@unluckyxxxxxxx

Dear Albedo,

Paint me like one of your French girls,

And study me like one of your hilichurls.

@unluckyxxxxxxx

@ninotbh

INTP and Friends

How in the ever loving fuck do you make friends as an INTP? I am fully aware that being an INTP has little to do with my lack of social/ friend making skills but I need something to blame my ineptitude on. I tried blaming it on my zodiac sign. I’m a Sagittarius so that didn’t work. 

I need an INTP adoption agency to hand out my resume to people willing to adopt a stray. “Looking for a shadow creature of a friend that will only text you back every other blue moon but still wants to be included in everything you do? Would you like a friend who’s just kind ~there~?”

Adopt your INTP today*

*No refunds or take backs. It’s for life.

Don’t Go.

A/N: SLAY. I think I like scaramouche idk 🤔 but it was sorta late and I just thought of this. It’s short so! Also I take request from any genshin character. Please send request i must have ideas 🤞

Pairing:Scaramouche x G/N!Reader

Warning:blood, death, angst.

He hated you, that part was obvious. He hated the way you smiled, or even called him sweet names. But no matter how times you tried to make him open up, he just wouldn’t budge. There were times where he would show just a tiny bit of vulnerability, but it would quickly fade away when he realizes. He was practically the definition of stubbornness, but that still didn’t stop you. You didn’t care how long it would take, you were convinced that he was just scared and he needed time. You ignored his insults, his nasty comments, everything. Actually, you didn’t even hear them. You just blocked them out with a smile. That stupid smile that he always hated. Why did you keep trying? He clearly showed signs of not cooperating, and yet you just continue to try. He despises the way you say I love you in that sweet voice of yours, or how you giggle at anything, and even hugging him. Those emotions are just gonna get in the way of his plans. And yet, he finds himself falling in love harder and harder every time. Even if you’re close to him on accident, he feels his face heat up and his hands becoming clammy and sweaty. And your scent just makes his head dizzy, and your eyes outshining the brightest light. When you excitingly call his name when you notice his huge hat, or his flashy clothing. You didn’t notice how his insults turned into soft sweet nothings, or how his nasty comments became one where he merely calls you beautiful under his breath. Or have you noticed how he would secretly go to your room to admire your sleeping and peaceful face, happy by the fact that you’re alive and well. Or when he gently holds your hand while you’re having a nightmare, saying that he is right here with you. But he always makes sure to leave when he knows you will wake up soon. He swore he would never allow himself to be filled with such filth, but if you were this pure then, maybe instead of filth, it would be something warm, magical. He really felt like a lovesick puppy.

So, why did things end up this way? He told you to stay away. He said that he doesn’t want you to be involved and that you should get the hell out, but you did pick up his stubbornness. “…what?” Is what he breathed out when he suddenly saw blood oozing out on his arm, a body twitching and the person coughing out blood and weakly calling his name. Aether watched as Scaramouche’s bloody hand from the other side of the body was twitching and shaking. Scaramouche slowly moved his gaze and to his horror, his instincts were true. It’s you. You were staring at him with wide eyes and your mouth dripping with blood. He slowly pulled his bloody arm off of you, and you instantly fell forward on his body. Scaramouche gently held you and felt his throat being clogged and burning. He didn’t know what to say or do, but he felt so dizzy when the smell of iron filled his nostrils and your blood soaking his clothes. “You must be kidding…” he says, his mouth forming into a sickening grin and his clean hand gripping your hair tightly. He forcefully lifted your head so that you were now facing him, but his grin faded away when he saw your eyes. Half lidded and empty. There was no life In those eyes. He doesn’t even see the shine that he loved so much. “Hey…what is this?” He question, but he already knows the answer. He tried shaking you, hell, even slapping you, but you wouldn’t even budge. He tried to cover the hole in your chest that he made, and he couldn’t stop the uncontrollable shaking in his hand. The traveler only watched in confusion when Scaramouche only begged you to wake up or else he’ll get angry. For someone being part of the Fatui and hurting a lot of people, it was surprising that he was almost on the verge of crying over a simple human.

“W-Wait, this has to work! You never heard me say it right? I-I’ll say it, okay?” No response. Scaramouche kneeled down and held your body close to his chest, making you feel his rapid heartbeat. He gulped loudly and slowly moved a strand of hair out of your pale face, and he took a deep breath. “I love you! I loved you, I’ve always loved you! I love you, I love you, I love you!!” He cries out, but you don’t move an inch. What was he hoping for? He practically ripped your heart out. But that still didn’t make him give up. “I love you, I love you!” He repeats, and he continues until he runs our breath and the realization slowly sinking in. He killed you. He hurt you. He’s no longer gonna see that smile of yours, or your laugh, or your hugs. You’re completely gone from this life. You didn’t even say goodbye. Scaramouche couldn’t hold in the tears that were spilling out, and he slowly leaned down to your face to place his forehead with yours, his tears staining your cheek and some mixing in with the blood that was still wet. He no longer cared about being a god, or killing the traveler. All he wants is for you to come back alive and tell him it’s all a prank, a stupid prank to see if he truly cared about you. He needs to hear that annoying voice of yours say “Just kidding!” Or maybe even an “I love you too”. He wants to feel your warmth again. Can’t he just be happy for once? He’ll stop everything if it means you’ll be awake in his arms again. Why are you so cruel?

“Don’t go, please…”

BLOODY MARY | OSIAL & MORAX

pairings: morax x fem!reader, osial x fem!reader

summary: caught between the rivalry of two gods, you, a priestess of osial, are sent to the newly founded liyue harbor during a festival honoring their deceased to add another body for the people to celebrate and mourn—none other than their god himself, morax.

genre: archon war au

warnings: fem!reader, reader is a priestess of osial, reader used as a pawn between osial and morax, heavy power imbalance so could be read as dubcon (gods vs mortal), reader wears a dress, sacrilege + desecration of the dead??? (osial fucks reader in his own temple on a throne that he built from the bones of old gods), osial is manipulative trying to get reader to agree to kill morax, mentions of breeding, outdoor sex (morax), semi-public sex (osial & morax), biting (osial & morax), morax grabs reader by the neck but not enoughto hurt, unprotected sex (osial & morax)

notes: god this wasn’t supposed to have any osial in it but i saw a fanart that @/galair made friday night and it consumed my mind body and soul. no monsterfucking or tentacles this time 💔 i’m not confident enough in writing that yet, perhaps next time — this is long, and i had a lot of fun writing it, so as always reblogs for boost are appreciated

tags: @tweris @mxnjiros @hanmas @dxlucs @7rkx @albedophoria @manjiroscum @festive @suyacho @niicevibe @alucrds @dynalite @tokyometronetwork

wordcount: 9.2k

The sand of the beach of the Guyun Forest was cool beneath your feet, you kept your breath steady as you waited for the telltale sign from Osial of what today would bring--storms or clear skies, still waters or rapid currents, would it be a day at sea for the people of Guyun Forest? Or would it be a day locked to the land? 

The sun broke slowly over the distant horizon, casting a glow over the unusually calm waters--the God of the vast sea of clouds was in a good mood today, you realized, today would be a productive day at sea. 

You lingered, an eerie feeling sweeping over you just for a moment--as if you should wait for something. But nothing happened, the sea remained still, the sun steadily rising in the distance, the gentle breeze brushing against your skin and ruffling your dress. You exhaled, turning away to make your way back to the temple so you could give up your offerings, to give thanks for a merciful day at last. 

The storms had been overwhelming for the past two weeks, a declaration of anger, war even, against the god who had risen to power south of Mount Tianheng in Osial’s territory--Morax, the God of Geo, the only god remaining in the nearby territory that could rival Osial for power, surpass him, even. 

You pushed the thought from your head--it was sacrilege, heresy to doubt Osial’s strength. He had proven his power time and time again in his war to conquer the Sea of Clouds and its shore--a war that he had won with ease all the while protecting the people of Guyun Forest, ensuring that they did not get caught up in the conflict between the gods. 

But you couldn’t help the nerves that crept through you--the reminder of the stone lances that towered into the sky on the borders of the Guili Plains, weapons of war that had slain gods and destroyed towns. Osial was strong, you had to remind yourself again.

But-

Your thoughts paused as you felt the waters creep so far into the shore that it swept beneath your feet, gentle and slow, as if trying to get your attention. You turned your head over your shoulder, breath drawing sharp as you recognized the figure that had appeared standing waist-deep in the water, watching you carefully.

Osial emerged from the water, expression lax and deep blue hair tumbling past his shoulders down to his waist. You swore that no air reached your lungs, gaze averting down to the ground at the sight of him. You knelt down, the sand damp and sticking to your knees.

You didn’t dare look up even as he approached, not until he was standing right in front of you, fingers grazing your chin before his grip tightened, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him. 

“Lord Osial,” your voice came out as little over a breath, wavering--you wondered if he had felt your doubts, sensed your lack of faith, but Osial was a prideful god and he did not seem to be angry. Looks are deceptive, you thought to yourself, the sea can look calm while the rip currents beneath could drown the strongest swimmer, and Osial is the epitome of the sea. 

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, tracing it, and your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling--it took all of your self-control to force your eyes back open, looking up at him through your lashes. Osial had an ethereal sort of beauty about him, ever-bored and unimpressed, eyes that reflected the deepest parts of the sea, his skin was smooth to the touch and his nails were sharp, weapons in itself, but he was always gentle with you… at least in situations like this. 

“You do not think I can defeat Morax,” your world stilled as he finally addressed you, words so soft-spoken that you barely even heard him. His touch was gentle, and his words were soft, but he was angry--the blues of his eyes swirled like a vortex forming deep in the sea. 

“My L-” you tried to explain yourself but you faltered under his gaze, lips parting and closing as you tried to come up with some sort of explanation for your doubt--lying to Osial would do nothing but draw his ire further. To wound his pride and then to lie to his face as if he wouldn’t know… It was like asking for the sea to swallow you whole. 

“Come.”

Osial’s hand dropped from your face and you felt cold as he swept past you to walk toward his temple. You didn’t move for a second, staring ahead at the open sea as you processed his words before you scrambled to your feet, following behind him. No thoughts were running through your head as you followed the god into his temple--the air was damp, cool enough to have you shivering, but Osial paid no mind, his body immune to the weaknesses mortals dealt with. 

He paused as the two of you entered a large room, an altar situated in the center where you made your offerings, a large throne made of an odd material that you had never quite been able to figure out was. 

Osial didn’t speak for a moment, shifting to stand behind you, chest pressed against your back. You let out a shaky puff of air when you felt his hands come to your biceps, holding you in place and forcing you to look forward toward the throne. His fingers were long and lithe, smoothing against your bare skin.

“Do you know what this place was before it became my temple?” Osial’s lips brushed your ear as he spoke, breath warm and so dizzying that you could barely bring yourself to answer.

“Yes,” you breathed out, trying to hold yourself steady, stop your knees from giving out. “It was your seat of power before the war began, and during the beginning of it.”

Osial hummed, pleased with your answer, and your head buzzed at the thought of satisfying the god, a light-headed feeling that had your knees weak. Osial did not pull away though, evidently not finished with his questioning. “Do you think I am a kind god, priestess?” 

You froze, head spinning at the question--was it a trick? Would he be insulted if you called him kind? Would he be insulted if you called him cruel? How do you respond?

“You are kind to your followers, Lord Osial,” you said softly, trying desperately to hide the anxiety you felt over whether or not your answer would anger him. 

Osial made a noise in the back of his throat, akin to a laugh. “Good answer,” he said quietly, and you wondered if that had been a test--if it had, you had a feeling that you passed, relaxing under his touch. 

But only for a second, because in an instant, Osial was gone. Instead of standing behind you, he was now in front of you, lounging back on the pale throne, watching you carefully. Your breath caught as he leaned forward, robes hanging off his shoulders loosely, fingers interlocked between his knees. 

“Do you think I won the war for the sea through diplomatic means?” The amusement that might have begun to form in Osial’s tone was gone, replaced by something cold that had a shiver running down your side. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.

You shook your head, throat spasming as you tried to force the words from your throat. “No,” you finally said. “I don’t.”

“Do you know what this throne is made of?” 

Your mouth dried, confusion flooding your system as your gaze dragged down to the throne he was sitting on before you looked back up at him. He was waiting for a response, expression closed off and unfriendly. You shook your head but Osial only tilted his head to the side, waiting for you to voice your answer out loud.

“I don’t,” you said, voice hoarse.

“I built this throne out of the bones of the old gods I slaughtered at the beginning of the war,” your ears rang as he spoke--his voice smooth and silken, calm as if he hadn’t desecrated the bodies of gods after killing them. You stared at him, processing the words slowly, waiting for him to continue but he did not. “Morax encroached on my territory. The land south of Mount Tianheng was rightfully mine, I killed the former God of the Sea and piked his head on the Chihu Rock.”

You didn’t speak, even if you wanted to speak, you weren’t sure what you would say. 

“And yet you still think I’ll fall to Morax,” Osial murmured, observing you. You shook your head, opening your mouth to deny the accusation but Osial’s expression left no room for argument. “You do. You don’t think I can sense what my priestess is thinking?”

My, he said it so fondly, in a way that made you feel warm despite the cool air within the temple.

“Come,” another order--your body moved on autopilot as you made your way toward him, the stone of the temple was cold beneath your feet and only got colder as you drew closer to Osial, to the throne.

You paused right in front of him, wondering if you should kneel or bow your head but Osial spoke again before you could.

“I said come,” his voice was sharper and your brows furrowed as you tried to figure out what he meant. He had leaned back in his throne again and it only took him glancing down at his lap once for you to realize what he meant. Your lips parted in shock, fingers trembling at your sides--your teeth scraped against your tongue, a warm feeling building in your lower stomach as you realized what exactly he wanted. 

Your body itched to move forward but you hesitated, and you wouldn’t have if he hadn’t just told you what the throne he was sitting on was made of. On the throne made of… there was a lump in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow, be it from anxiety or the prospect of what was to come 

Osial watched you, eyes lidded and heavy, expression not having shifted once from the cool indifference. You took in a deep breath, legs shaking beneath you as you moved forward. Your face burned in embarrassment, chest tight and not even daring to breathe as you shifted onto his lap. You were careful not to touch him, not until he explicitly gave you permission to, but your thighs were tense and trembling on either side of his, your nails dug into the arms of the throne, trying to keep yourself steady. 

Osial hummed and at once, something pressed against your back, knocking you off balance. Your hands flat against his chest as you fell forward against him. Your heart was erratic, face pressed against his shoulder and body flush to his--you could feel him pressed up against your thigh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, you could already feel his gaze on you. 

“Look at me,” he said and yet again, your body betrayed you, head tilting up so you could look at him. 

Up close, Osial was even more ethereal--his eyes a mirror of the sea, skin nearly glowing against the morning sun shining through the large windows of the temple, his hair felt neatly on either side of his face down to his hips, you were careful not to accidentally pull it when you shifted. Beneath his thin robes, his body was littered with battle scars you had become well acquainted with. Even covered, you knew you’d be able to trace each and every one.

“Why is it that you doubt me?” he asked, but you couldn’t even hope to speak as his hands trailed up and down your thighs before slipping between them. You bit back a whimper as his fingers dipped between your folds. You should be embarrassed at how wet you were already but Osial was pleased, you could tell that much from the glint that had appeared in his eyes.

“I-I do not doubt you, Lo-” you tried to say but you faltered when his grip on one of your thighs tightened, just enough to silence you. 

“Do not lie to me, priestess,” he said, and there was a thick feeling in your throat that made you incapable of pushing out any words. Priestess, he called you, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if Osial even knew your name--you adored him, he was your god, your lover, but what were you to him? 

Nothing, a voice whispered in your head, a tool, a pet.

He favored you enough to lay with you, you wanted to argue, lips parting in a silent moan as you felt the tip of Osial’s cock slip against your cunt. And he lay with you not just once or twice, he came back frequently enough so that there was never a time his marks weren’t decorating your body, bruises from where his fingers gripped just a bit too hard, bite marks from his sharpened teeth and nails. 

Osial was a kind god to his followers but he was a cruel lover, albeit unintentionally, you liked to believe. You figured all gods were to their mortal lovers—unaware of their limits, apathetic to them, focused on their own pleasure and release. 

“You worry for me… what would you prefer then?” Osial’s tone took on a mocking lilt, nipping at the underside of your jaw as you panted, nails clawing at his loose robes as he held your hips to bring you down on his cock. Tears stung your eyes as you tried to get used to the feeling of him filling you up. This wasn’t the first time you had laid with the god, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last, but you swore every time he pushed himself into you felt like the first--you could never get used to it. “Bear my children? Give me half-gods to fight at my side?”

A long whine escaped your lips, body shaking as Osial’s nails dug into your waist, surely drawing blood, grinding you down on his cock. He was deep, too deep inside of you, your head felt fuzzy and you couldn’t think of anything but the feeling of his cock stretching you out. 

“Is that what you want?” You weren’t entirely sure what he was asking. Want, want, you wanted him, you wanted him fully and completely, in every possible way. “... or would you rather something else?”

You tilted your head back as Osial’s lips trailed down your neck, leisurely and meticulous. Your nails dug into his biceps but Osial didn’t seem to care, more focused on rolling your hips against his, fucking you at a slow, agonizing pace. You couldn’t help but notice even in your half-fucked out state that Osial was being more careful than usual--his teeth were not marking up your neck as they usually did. 

“Would you rather that you, yourself, be the one to kill Morax?” 

You jolted at his words, like a splash of cold water. Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you pulled back to ask what he meant but you didn’t get the chance. Instead, Osial brought you down hard on his cock and your eyes knocked back as you felt his tip brush so deep inside you that it felt like your body was on fire, splitting open on his cock.

One of his hands slipped behind your head, fisting your hair and tilting your head back down to face him. His eyes were lit up with something you couldn’t quite place in your haze, searching yours as he looked up at you. His lips brushed yours, breath hot and dizzying as it mingled with your own, “Is that what you want? You want to become a god-slayer, priestess?”

He spoke your title with a sort of reverence that had you crying out, nails dragging red lines against his arms, back arching and body spasming in his hold as you came all over his cock. He didn’t stop after you finished to give you a second to recuperate, he never did. Instead, he brought you down faster, harder. The lewd, slapping sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of your cunt echoed throughout his temple--if any of the other priestesses came by the temple to give offerings to Osial, they would know very well what was happening within there before they even laid eyes on their god fucking his high priestess. 

His grip on your hair tightened again to make you look down at him and your body was all but limp in his hold already--he had never taken you in this position before, always preferring to take you from behind, and somehow everything felt more intense, overwhelming in a way that your body couldn’t handle. 

“Some say that if a mortal is to kill a god, they can take his place,” Osial breathed out, lips dragging from the corner of yours down to your jaw, to the spot behind your ear that always had you weak. “Is that what you want? To stand at my side as my goddess? To rule over the sea and land together?”

You sobbed, not even fully processing his words as you nodded, you wanted more but you weren’t even sure if you could handle more. Osial’s hands felt as if they were everywhere, sliding up and down your sides, squeezing at your breasts, flicking over your nipples. His lips dipped down from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, tongue tracing the crevice, teeth grazing the bone.

Your vision flashed dark--you were cumming again, you realized, you weren’t even sure if you had stopped cumming to begin with, the feeling of Osial’s cock was simply too much. You could feel his breath against your skin, hot, heavy, the telltale sign that he was close, the closest thing you would get to a warning. 

You could barely hear the low grunt that caught in the back of his throat as he grinded his hips up into you, eyes rolling back as his cock twitched inside of you. You felt warm, full, too warm and too full as he spilled his cum deep inside of you, biting down hard on your shoulder. His sharp teeth dug into the scar on your shoulder that he had left the first time he had laid with you--a way to mark you as his and his alone. 

You were still trying to recover from your high when you felt Osial shift beneath you, you shivered at the feeling of his cock moving inside of you, biting back a whimper, walls fluttering around him, sensitive from your orgasms.

Your eyes were still shut even as Osial cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch before you let your eyes flutter back open, eyes meeting his--they were dark, a sort of emotion swirling beneath them that was unsettling. Your eyes trailed down between your bodies, faltering when you noticed that he was holding something, a dagger

“What is this?” you asked quietly, eyes tracing the blade that Osial was twirling in his hand--it was made of an odd material, one that looked suspiciously like the throne beneath the two of you. You looked up at the god questioningly, when he didn’t respond right away. He was studying you and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. 

“The bones of the dead gods of the sea,” Osial explained after a moment. “The power to kill a god.”

---

“In two weeks' time, there will be a festival in the newly founded Liyue to honor Morax’s fallen adeptus, Skybracer.”

Liyue Harbor was larger than you expected. Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth as you looked around--you had known it was big, you could see it lit up at night from the southernmost island in the Guyun Forest, but it was different seeing it in person. The buildings were twice as tall as the houses in Guyun and the streets were bustling in a sort of way that had you anxious. There were too many people and too little room.

“Morax will be at the festival--surrounded by his own people and the adepti, he will let his guard down. I knew him well enough before the war to know this.”

Let his guard down, you thought to yourself, eyes drifting around the streets, following up to where the crowds grew denser, soldiers lining the streets leading up to where Morax sat upon his throne watching the celebrations below, the adepti scattered around the general area on high alert. 

A resentful feeling grew in you at the sight of Morax, lounging back on the throne donning a white hooded robe. The people traversing the streets were forced to walk around you as you stared at the god from a distance. He looked bored, apathetic even, as his gaze drew across the streets--exuding a sort of arrogance that only a god could so casually. 

“You will have to find a way to get him alone.”

Alone. Reality was beginning to set in on you, the chatter and music around you becoming a distant hum, muted compared to your heartbeat pounding in your ears--a city of five-thousand people and over a dozen adepti, and you had been sent to slay their god on the night they commemorate their fallen comrade. 

Had you been handed a death sentence?

Did it matter?

The logical part of your brain held up a weak argument when confronted with the rest of you, loyal to Osial, willing to lay down your life at just a single command. He was your god, and if he wanted you to die for him, then so be it. But he did not ask you to die, he asked you to kill his enemy, he asked you to live, to take Morax’s godhood and stand by his side for the rest of eternity.

Take his godhood, a myth, no one knows if it’s true. If you succeed, you’ll be stoned to death by the people of Liyue for killing their god.

If you succeed. You did not want to know what fate waited for you at Morax’s hands if you failed. 

A brutal god, ruthless and violent, Morax was the reason that the war had escalated so severely in southern Teyvat. By the time news reached the Guyun Forest of the battle that laid waste to the Guili Assembly, ravaging the plains and slaying the Goddess of Dust, Morax had already settled his people into the shores of Osial’s territory and gone off to wage war against the remaining gods of the land. 

It was he who forced Osial’s hand, choosing to settle in his lands rather than those of one of the slain gods. The Sea of Clouds and the land of Liyue could have been two separate territories, ruled by two separate gods but Morax chose the one area that would draw the ire of Osial--a tyrant and warmonger he was, but Morax was no fool, he knew exactly what he was doing when settled his people in Osial’s territory. 

A particularly loud cheer pulled you from your thoughts, bringing you back to awareness. You let out a breath, trying to quell the spiraling resentment and anger--but your heart leapt in your throat when you noticed that Morax’s gaze was no longer absently wandering his people.

Was he looking…

Amber eyes were trained steadily in your direction, a cold feeling settled in your gut. 

… at you?

You swore that you could see his lips curl up into a smirk, even at this distance, but before you could figure out if it was just a figment of your imagination, it was gone--replaced by the lethargic expression that had painted his face before. 

You wrote it off as your mind playing tricks on you, nerves over what you were here to do getting to your head. Shaken, you turned away, intent on going to find a stand to distract yourself with until you could figure out how to conjure an opportunity to separate Morax from the crowds of people and his adepti. 

---

“You are not from here.”

You hesitated as you took the last bite of the rice bun you were eating, swallowing it as you stared ahead, deciding whether or not you should turn around to face the man that had spoken to you. 

Should you lie? Claim that you had come with the settlers from the Guili Assembly--there would be no way for them to prove you weren’t but… maybe it would be better to claim to be a refugee from the west, the Tianqiu Valley civilization, or even further west, where your ancestors hailed from--the Hypostyle Desert of Sumeru. 

You let out a breath, having come to a decision as you turned around to face whoever approached you. As you turned, you noticed distantly that all of the Liyue residents who had been near you had backed away, and the street was now suspiciously quiet.

Frowning and with an answer on the tip of your tongue, the words died as your eyes fell upon a familiar white robe, the gold decorations glittering underneath the lights of the lanterns. Your gaze drew up from the long white robe, eyes meeting empty amber ones that peered down at you in a way that had your blood running cold. 

Your mouth dried, your throat tightened. Bow, you told yourself, bow, you must bow. But your body wouldn’t cooperate, the thought of kneeling to any god other than your own made you feel sick to your stomach. You tried to force your knees to buckle but they were locked, your own body damning you. 

“Where are you from?” Morax’s voice was a low drawl, as if he were amused by the situation, and once again resentment brewed as you stared at the man. You couldn’t help but notice how the people did not seem shocked at the sight of Morax walking among them, you wondered if it was a common occurrence. 

“The west,” you finally said, voice tenser than you meant for it to be, not as respectful as it should have been--but Morax did not look incensed, even if his people were agape at your tone. “Tianqiu Valley.”

“A follower of Khienar,” Morax noted. “How fascinating.”

You wondered if you had spoken wrong but Morax did not appear to be suspicious of you. As if he could read the question on your face, wondering why it was fascinating to him, he continued. “Liyue Harbor does not often host outsiders these days,” he said. “Come.”

Morax did not wait for you to agree or disagree, and your throat closed up at the order--not quite finding the God of Geo’s words as appealing to follow as Osial’s. He walked ahead, and you hated that you knew you had to follow otherwise you would garner even more suspicion, and you hated that he knew you knew you had to follow and it was exactly why he didn’t wait to see if you would. 

The arrogance of gods-

The arrogance of gods. Your world stilled as your thoughts spun, was this the opportunity-

You didn’t have the chance to dwell on the thought, you were losing sight of Morax and all you could do was rush after him--not that it was difficult, the crowds of people had parted at his arrival, making way for him to go as he pleased.

As you caught up to him, you tried to make sense of what was happening--he sought you out, was it really because he could tell that you weren’t native to Liyue Harbor or the Guili Assembly? Or was it something else? Did he know who you were, what you were sent-

“Have you tried the slow-cooked bamboo soup at the Wangshu Stand?” Morax asked suddenly, your brows furrowed as you stared at his back--his back, the knife holstered to your thigh burned, screaming at you to take the opportunity now, kill the tyrant in front of all of his people, damn your own fate, you were ready for their stones. But just as your hand twitched at your side, Morax turned his head over his shoulder to look at you. 

… what?

You couldn’t even find the words to speak as you stared at Morax, barely even having processed his words--too lost in your own thoughts, at the opportunity in front of you. Bamboo soup at a stand--did you try it?

“I did not get the chance,” you finally said, and you hated how hoarse your voice sounded. Your eyes drifted around the streets, the way people whispered, stares adoring and wide-eyed. They loved him, a tyrant and warmonger, they were all just as ba-

Morax hummed, looking ahead again, “Pity. I fear the stand is closed now. It is my favorite. They attempted to show me how to make it but alas I find myself a poor chef.”

Was this a joke? You wanted to ask, but you couldn’t force the words out. He was leading you somewhere—up a stone staircase, and you could only follow numbly behind him.

Of course, they loved him, vengeful over what happened at the Guili Assembly, the death of their goddess--they wanted to exact the same fate onto every other people of Liyue so they hail the warmonger and tyrant as their hero. 

“I haven’t had the opportunity to speak to a mortal from another civilization since the war broke out,” he said, and you swore--you swore--that he must know exactly who you were, how you felt, what you came to do and he was playing with you, taunting you.

“I wonder why,” you couldn’t help the spite that slipped from your mouth, the resentment simply too intense for you to bite back. Morax only looked back at you again, an odd expression on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher--not angry, but not amused. It was as if he had been waiting for you to say something like that, as if you had played right into his game. 

He didn’t say anything else as you followed him up the stairs, away from the crowds of people, the chatter and cheering growing distant with each step you took. It was warmer on the mainland than it was on the Guyun Forest isles, the seabreeze not quite as strong--even as he led you up the side of Mount Tianheng, you stayed warm. 

A part of you wondered if he was bringing you up there to kill you, spare his people the gory sight of your death--although you had a feeling that if they knew you were a priestess of Osial, they would drink and dance to the sight. 

You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but you didn’t want to continue to test your luck, you were stuck between a rock and a hard place not knowing whether or not he knew who you were already. Every action you took made you anxious that he would figure it out if he hadn’t already.

Morax came to a step half-way up the side of Mount Tianheng--a pretty, flattened area with a few benches and a small koi pond. Alone, you recognized, you were alone with him. He had brought you somewhere where the two of you were alone. 

“You will have to find a way to get him alone and only then will have the chance to drive the dagger through his heart.”

Osial’s words rang through your ears as Morax moved to stand on the edge of the mountain by the railing, looking down over Liyue Harbor. He looked over at you, eyes lidded and lashes brushing his cheek--he was waiting for you to join him at the ledge.

You did, albeit reluctantly. Your hands were wrapped around the stone railing tight, as if that would do anything to save you if Morax decided to kill you.

“Speak freely,” Morax said, and your head snapped toward him, eyeing him suspiciously, not trusting a word he said.

“So you can have my tongue for speaking out of line?” you questioned, Morax’s amber eyes glittered in an obscenely beautiful way as he looked down at you, amusement painted across his face.

“Speak freely,” he repeated, an order this time, as he turned to face you. “I want to hear the opinion of someone who is not my own people.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some sort of trap, but gods were impossible to read--their faces masks indiscernible by the average mortal--though you had a distinct feeling that if you refused, it would anger him more than if you said how you truly felt. 

“You are a warmonger,” you finally said--you could no longer look at him, instead looking down at the harbor, afraid that you would be smited just as the gods who dared stand against him were. Your knuckles tight around the railing, body tense as you waited for his reaction.

“I seek order,” Morax responded after a moment, and you thought that his answer incensed you more than admission to being a warmonger.

“You seek order through war. You are a tyrant,” your voice grew sharper in your anger, taking a tone that would ordinarily be a death sentence from a god, but Morax only leaned back against the railing, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at you. 

The amusement that had been shining in his eyes was gone, replaced by a more serious expression, but he did not appear to be angry.

“I do not wish for dominion over Liyue but I cannot continue to watch the common people suffer,” Morax responded after a moment. A cool breeze danced your skin, trying to quell your rising anger but you couldn’t hold back the scoff that bubbled at your lips. 

“You do not wish for dominion yet you seek out any god that can rival you to kill them,” you shot back at him. “The-”

Your words died when you felt two lithe fingers grab your chin, turning your head to the side to force you to look at him. All of the air whooshed from your lungs as you stared up at him, catching the mirthful look in his eyes, the way his lips were pulled up in an unkind smile. 

“Let us make one thing clear,” Morax murmured. “There is no god that can rival me.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, taken aback by the arrogance--was it arrogance? Or just confidence--not even Osial dared to imply his enemies were weak, a sort of insult that brought bad tidings to its speaker. Morax’s hand dropped from your chin but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“Continue,” he said off-handedly, your lips parted to speak but you could barely even remember where you were heading with your comment--you couldn’t even remember what had you said to make him say that, you were completely thrown off. 

… seek out any god that can rival you to kill them, you remembered. Ah, that was it. 

“The common people will suffer whether you kill their gods or not,” you said, and Morax made a noise in the back of his throat, one of acknowledgment as he processed your words. You let yourself look at him again--he was looking back out at the harbor again and your breath almost caught at the sight of the lanterns below reflecting in his eyes, the way his skin glowed beneath the moonlight. Morax had a different sort of beauty about him than Osial, somehow warmer, not as sharp, but far more deadly.

“Can you deny that they will be safer once the wars between gods end?” Morax questioned.

“Your people will be safer,” you responded. “What of the rest of us?” 

“You will become my people,” Morax said off-handedly. 

“I would rather die,” you countered too quickly to process your own words.

Morax turned his head to look at you again, amused by your words. “How familiar,” he said softly, almost too soft to pick up but you didn’t get the chance to question it before he was talking again. “You say you come from Tianqiu Valley, daughter of Khienar?” 

You hesitated, only for a second, but you knew he picked up on it. “Yes,” you said. 

Morax pushed away from the railing, walking behind you--slow, lax, deceivingly so. You wanted to turn around to face him but your body wouldn’t cooperate, your fight or flight instincts failing you as you froze up. You felt distinctly like a deer being hunted by a lion, cornered and unable to bring itself to try to flee. 

You could hear every step as he paced back and forth behind you, the sound of his white robe dragging against the stone was soft but grating against your ears. You stared ahead, gaze trained on the southern islands of the Guyun Forest in the distance, barely visible in the dark.

Osial was out there, you tried to calm yourself, but the thought was only a distant comfort--he was too far to do anything, you were at the mercy of his enemy, at the mercy of Morax. Your pulse thrummed in your ears as Morax came to a stop behind you, you could feel his chest against your back and the nearness of him had you feeling light-headed.

He leaned down. Morax’s nose brushed the crook of your neck, he inhaled deeply, breath hot and heavy against your neck. You felt dizzy, your mind felt slow. “I can smell your god on you, priestess.”

Your heart leapt to your throat, eyes widening as your hazed out mind processed his words. You scrambled, reaching for the knife you had hidden in your inner thigh, but Morax was faster, stronger. 

Your hand flew to his wrist as he grabbed you by the throat to hold you still—not hard enough to choke you or bruise you, but enough pressure that you knew it was a warning. 

Try anything and I’ll crush your neck.

Your mouth was dry as Morax parted your legs, knocking your thighs apart with his knee before reaching between your legs to grab the dagger. An unwelcome, dreadful realization swept over you as Morax’s lips twisted into an amused smirk at the weapon.

“Did you really think this would be able to kill me?” Morax’s voice was low and mocking. “Perhaps a lesser god like Osial would be weak to the properties of our marrow, but it would be little more than a tickle to me.”

His arrogance made your stomach churn, and any little hope you might have had left was swept away as he tossed away the dagger, watching it clatter against the stone before sinking into the pond.

“I knew who you were and what you had planned the moment you stepped foot in my city,” Morax leaned in close, lips nearly brushing yours as he spoke. “Your god sent you to die, priestess.”

“He wouldn’t-“ you tried to protest, talk back even though you knew it wasn’t in your best interest to argue against the god. But you were going to die anyway, you realized, and you figured how else to spend your last moments than defending the god you had devoted your life to.

“But he did,” Morax murmured, a sort of faux-sympathy in his tone that made your skin crawl. “He knew I would know who you were. He knew I would play along. He knew I would be insulted enough over the situation to seek him out on his territory to fight him. He used you to try to turn the uneven tides in his favor by setting up a battle on his home ground.”

You tried to shake your head again, tears stinging at your eyes. “No,” you said, “He-”

“What did he promise you?” Morax was mocking you, he was still mocking you, you could see the mirth clear in his eyes. Your lips trembled as your nails dug into his wrist, the pads of his fingers pressing just a bit harder against the sides of your neck as he waited for you to respond. “The old wives’ tale of taking a god’s place after killing him?” 

You took in a breath, sharp and shaky, choking back a sob. You couldn’t hold back the tears, cheeks wet as they spilled over. 

“He did,” Your reaction was confirmation enough for the god, who brought his free hand to your face, thumb wiping away the tears that escaped. You hated how gentle he was being because you knew you wouldn’t live to see the daybreak. “How gullible. If such a thing were true, the King of Sal Terrae would be the new God of Salt, and I would have countless domains.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, and you tried to look away but he didn’t let you--the grip on your neck held you steady, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Do you see now? Osial is so threatened by the idea of me he would send his priestess to certain death just at the slightest prospect for a chance…” he trailed off, eyes flickering down to your shoulder. “His lover, even?”

Your breath caught as the fingers brushing away your tears trailed down your neck, grazing your skin before coming to trace the scar on your shoulder, the mark left behind by Osial. You let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut.

Morax speaks the truth, the more logical side of yourself was arguing again, a newfound strength against the rest of you, blindly loyal and devoted to Osial. Osial knew what fate waited for you in Liyue Harbor and he still convinced you to go. 

But-

There are no ‘buts’, he sent you to die, are you ready to die?

You should be, there should be no question about it--there wasn’t earlier, you knew that there was a good chance you would die being sent to Liyue Harbor when you first arrived, so why now were you faltering in front of Morax? Questioning your faith?

“I don’t want to die,” it slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself--your voice shook, little over a breath as you spoke, the tears were building again and you were struggling to hold them back. 

The hand circling your neck slid up to cup your cheek in a manner similar to the way Osial would, and despite Morax’s hand feeling foreign and unfamiliar, you still leaned into it, desperate for any sort of comfort even if it was in the hands of the god who would kill you. 

“You don’t have to,” Morax said, and your eyes widened, searching the amber of Morax’s for any sign that he was being honest. “His lands, his people, his crown, I’ll show that coward of a god that everything that is his will soon be mine,” he murmured, and you could barely process his words as his thumb ran along your bottom lip. “... starting with you.”

Starting with… you?

You tried to understand what he was saying but his words went in one ear out the other, it wasn’t until he leaned in close, tilting your face up toward him that it slowly began to register. His lips brushed yours, “What is your name, priestess?”

Had Osial ever asked you that? You assumed he knew because of who he was but… he had never asked, nor had he ever used it. It was always ‘priestess’.

And you told him, voice hoarse and shaky, waiting for him to do something. He repeated your name, voice low, a soft drawl that had heat pooling in your lower stomach because of the sheer idea of a god saying your name like that. 

You thought you should say something, anything, instead of standing there but Morax didn’t give you the opportunity. You let out a noise of surprise as he dipped his head down, lips brushing yours before he pressed them together more firmly. Your hands curled around his forearm and bicep, eyes fluttering shut as Morax’s hand pressed against the small of your back, holding your body flush to his.

The robe did little to hide the way his body felt against yours, you could feel each and every crevice and contour of his abdomen, the way his muscles rippled as he shifted you away from the railing to lay you back on one of the stone benches. He followed you down, body sliding on top of yours as he deepened the kiss.

Osial rarely kissed you, a part of you couldn’t help but note as your lips parted for Morax when you felt his lips prod open yours. The most Osial kissed you was when he let his lips brush yours when he leaned in close to talk to you. This was a new feeling for you, overwhelming--you had never kissed someone before, not like this. 

Morax’s biceps flexed as he held himself steady above you, you hated how a whimper escaped you when Morax pulled back to kiss down your jaw. It was different, you couldn’t help but compare, it felt more intimate. 

Your body was trembling and your head already felt a bit fuzzy just from his kisses. One of his hands slid between your bodies, between your legs. You gasped as his fingers grazed your panties, grazing the damp silk, the slick that had started pooling as soon as Morax had come in close proximity to you.

You could feel his lips pull up into a thin smile against your shoulder, a low huff of laughter that had a whine building in the back of your throat. 

“I am the warmonger, and yet your god is the one who built a shrine of his defeated enemies,” Morax’s teeth pressed lightly over Osial’s scar and you couldn’t stop the way your entire body shivered at the feeling. “Perhaps I should slay him on his throne, grind his bones to dust until it melds with the rest and take the throne as my own too, hm?”

Your only response was a moan, looking up at him through your lashes, eyes lidded as his fingers slipped beneath your panties--soft circles over your clit, slow and meticulous, your thighs were shaking, trying to grind your hips up against his hand but Morax kept at the slow pace, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch, aching and begging for more. 

“Is that what you want?” Morax asked. “After I take you, his priestess, his lover… you want me to go to the Guyun Forest and finish this?” 

What did he say? Go to Guyun Forest and…

Your heart lurched, eyes widening--finish this? As in… kill Osial?

You couldn’t linger on the thought because Morax was spreading your legs, slipping down your panties and pulling off his robes and your dress. Your mouth dried at the sight, panting as your gaze drifted over his body shamelessly. Morax had a body free of any scars—a distinct contrast to the battle-scarred body of Osial’s that you were used to. The thought made your throat tight, realizing that maybe Morax had no scars simply because there was no god he fought that was strong enough to lay a blow on him.

“Let us make one thing clear. There are no gods that can rival me.”

Would Osial even stand a chance?

He sent you to die. 

But you loved him, you’d always love him, he was your god and-

If you loved him, would you be sleeping with his enemy? The one you were sent to kill?

Morax’s fingers trailed down your body, between your breasts, down to your navel, your skin burned everywhere he touched. It was hard to think straight beneath his touch, remember whose you were with Morax above you, replacing Osial’s marks and touches with his own. 

“Perhaps I should bring you back to him,” Morax said, and you gasped, head tilted back against the stone as you felt his tip press against your entrance. He leaned forward, cupping the back of your head and lifting it off the bench and tilting it down so you were looking down between your bodies. Your breath caught, eyes wide and throat thick at the sight of his cock--he was bigger than Osial, would it even fit? you wanted to ask but just as you tried to voice your concerns, Morax shifted his hips forward, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you at a pace that had you on the verge of tears. “Take you on his throne, on the altar you give up offerings to him… force him to watch.”

You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut, toss your head back against the bench, but Morax kept you steady and you just couldn’t draw your eyes from where the two of you were connected.

“S’not gonna fit,” you gasped, the burn was too much, leaving you hot and light-headed, he’d barely even pushed the tip in and you were certain you were on the verge of passing out. Morax ignored you, one hand grabbing your hip hard while he continued to push into you. Tears spilled over your eyes, a sob bubbling at your lips as he stretched you out, not giving you time to adjust to the size of him.

By the time he had pushed himself fully inside you, you swore you were going to split open, your entire body tense and trembling and you tried to brace yourself for the inevitable thrust of his hips as he chased his own pleasure--gods were cruel lovers, even if it was sometimes unintentional. 

But it never came. Instead, Morax leaned forward, body hovering over yours as he wiped away your tears, again, he kept himself still inside you, waiting for you to calm down. And you thought it ironic, really, as you focused your gaze on his face, realizing that the barbarous Morax was treating you more gently than your own god ever did. 

He rolled his slips slowly, cautiously, even, eyes tracing your face as he watched to make sure you were ready for him to move. It really didn’t take long for the painful burn to shift into a more pleasurable one, each roll of his hips had you trembling but this time in a way that had you eager for more. 

It wasn’t until your hips bucked up that he let out a huff of amusement, tongue darting out to lick the stray tear rolling down your cheek before he drew his hips back and snapped them up into yours. You barely bit back a moan of his name, but he reached out to grab your cheeks, squeezing them together to get your attention

“I want to hear you,” he said, voice rough before he let go of your face, reaching down to grab one of your thighs to push it up against your chest--a new angle, deeper, Osial had never taken you in this position before, he usually preferred to take you from behind, fisting your hair as his hips snapped against your ass.

Morax pressed his lips to yours, messily, teeth nearly clashing before he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your cunt had you dizzy, clawing at his back for more, one leg wrapped around his waist while the other tensed in his hand. 

“Feels s’good,” you cried out, writhing beneath him at the brutal pace, each thrust had his tip brushing up against your cervix, your entire body was burning, walls spasming and fluttering around his cock, sucking him in deeper every time he drew his hips back. Your jaw was slack as he shifted into a kneeling position, somehow hitting inside you deeper, harder, faster with every buck of his hips, impossibly so. “I’m gonna cum.” your voice was slurred, and your vision was blurry, you weren’t even sure if he could understand you. “I’m gonna-”

“Say my name,” Morax groaned. “Loud enough for your god to hear.”

“Morax,” you sobbed, loud--you were loud, and the sound of the two of you was loud, sloppy, messy, you wondered if his people could hear their god defiling you from the streets below. “Mo-”

Your cry of his name cut off as Morax bit down hard over the mark that Osial had left, hard enough to draw blood. Your back arched against the bench, chest pressed to his as you came all over his cock at the feeling of his teeth digging deep into your skin.

Low grunts into your neck, hips rutting into yours at a pace that had your eyes rolling back, drool pooling at the corner of your lips--he didn’t stop after you had cum and it was too much for you to handle, your vision was getting spottier and spottier with every thrust, you couldn’t hold his arms to brace yourself anymore, limp beneath him, letting the god use your body to chase his own high. 

And use you he did, strong enough to hold you in place while fucking his cock deep into you, teeth still buried in your shoulder over Osial’s scar, as if he were trying to remove the very idea of him from your body and replace it with himself. He came deep inside you, filling you up and then fucking you still, fucking his cum back into you every time a bit of it leaked out. 

You could barely stay conscious, you weren’t even sure if you were fully conscious. You weren’t sure how long he continued to fuck his cum back into you, you weren’t sure how many times you had cum, you weren’t sure of much of anything besides the feeling of his cock stretching you out and his cum warm and thick, stuffing you full. 

Morax’s kisses were wet and messy, lips stained with your blood as he dragged them from your shoulder back up to your neck until he pressed his nose against the side of your head, panting heavy, lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “You’re mine now--my priestess, my lover, mine…. How about we go show that god exactly what he lost?”

Cyno: im small but knowing

Alhaitham, not looking up from his book: you don't be knowing what the top shelf looks like

This is all i have the energy to draw lately

Tonight, I'm numb.

Floating on my bed,

Alone,

Breathing,

Silent,

Skin buzzing for warmth,

Eyes loving the moon,

Then, a thought of you passed by.

– Rune

Imagine if fatui Scaramouche ever got to encounter Albedo

The parallel and contrast between them is insane—Albedo yearning for the very thing that happened to “ruin” Scaramouche’s life is *chefs kiss* (I also wanted to draw scaramouche letting everything out and crying and breaking down)

You can’t hurt an overthinker, they already seen it coming you’re just proving them right