#along the old silk route

[strangelittlestories]

After the occupation, the princess was confined to the palace.

Once a month she'd be taken on a walk around the city, heavily guarded of course, to show the people that she still lived. It also served, of course, as a reminder of what they stood to lose if they made trouble. The princess did her best go wave and smile and give the people what encouragement she could.

The rest of the time, her life was spent in musty rooms and dusty towers. She filled most of her time scouring the castle for materials which she would sew into more and more elaborate outfits, which she would show off on the days when she was allowed outside.

Indeed, the public loved their princess and her dresses so much they'd often sketch or paint them along the route and pass the images on so that all could see the princess at least was well.

This pleased the occupiers for two reasons. First: it kept the princess out of trouble. Second: it gave them a reason to sneer and they did love a good sneer.

"What a vain creature she is!" They would remark.

"Doesn't even care we murdered her brothers so long as she gets enough satin to make her little dresses!" They squawked.

This was unfair, of course, for to call her creations "little dresses" was to call Queen Murderfun the Needlessly Genocidal "a tad piquey". Her dresses were gravity-defying wonders lace and pearl. They were thunderstorms captured in velvet and waterfalls summoned in silk. She was a wizard with silk.

Still, she bore their mockery with a tight smile and careful deference.

"Please, good sirs, my home, my people and my city now belong to you. Let me keep, at least, this one last joy."

And they sneered and they crowed most unpleasantly, but they let her keep her sewing room.

Of course, they would have known their mockery to be doubly unfair had they realised the true purpose of the princess's elaborate designs. For hidden in the intricate embroiderings across her gowns, jackets and fans, the princess had encoded secret (and very detailed) messages. When she would go on her monthly walk, the city's loyalists would line the route, sketching down the patterns to decode later.

Thus did the princess transmit all the occupiers' secrets (unearthed while supposedly 'searching the castle for old fabrics') to the city and thus did she build her resistance.

On the day the revolution finally came, she girded herself in armour of thick spider silk and whale bone. She cut a fine figure with a lacy handkerchief in her top pocket and a razor sharp knitting needle keeping her hair up.

As she waltzed through the castle to open the door for her army, the Usurper King tried to stop her and she simply unfolded her handkerchief and showed it to him.

Upon seeing the impossible arcane pattern emblazoned across it, he fell to the floor with blood streaming from his eyes.

She always had been a wizard with silk.

---

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[blueiscoool]

Stunning Tang Dynasty Murals in a Tomb Unearthed in China

A Tang dynasty tomb unearthed in China dates from the 700s, and the murals on its walls give an unprecedented view of daily life at the time.

Archaeologists in northern China have unearthed a centuries-old tomb decorated with stunning murals portraying daily life during the Tang dynasty, which ruled much of central and eastern China from A.D. 618 to 907.

The tomb includes never-before-seen depictions of daily life, including men threshing grain and making noodles.

One of the murals also depicts what appears to be a "Westerner" with blond hair and a beard who probably hailed from Central Asia, Victor Xiong, a professor of history at Western Michigan University who wasn't involved in the discovery, said in an email.

The tomb was discovered in 2018 during roadwork on a hillside on the outskirts of Taiyuan, the capital of China's northern Shanxi province, but archaeologists only reported on the completed excavations last month.

According to an article from China’s government-owned news agency Xinhua, an epitaph in the tomb states it was the burial place of a 63-year-old man who died in 736, as well as his wife.

The tomb consists of a single brick chamber, a door and a corridor. Scenes from life during the Tang dynasty adorn the walls of the tomb, the door, the corridor, and the platform on which the coffin was placed. The domed ceiling of the chamber is painted with what may be a dragon and phoenix.

Tomb guardians

Several figures painted near the door represent the "doorkeepers" or guardians of the tomb; they are wearing yellow robes and some have swords at their waists, according to Xinhua. Other murals portray natural landscapes, as well as men threshing grain, women grinding flour, men making noodles and women fetching water from a well.

They are rendered in the traditional "figure under a tree" style that was popular in the Shanxi region at the time, the South China Morning Post (SCMP) reported. As its name suggests, the style features people carrying out activities underneath beautifully depicted trees.

Many of the figures in the murals look like the same Chinese man and woman, and archaeologists think they may have been the two people buried in the tomb. The woman, in one scene, is dressed in a colorful gown and is leading four horses, alongside a bearded man holding a whip.

Other murals show mountains, trees and camels, and the series of paintings around the coffin may represent the Chinese tomb owner at different stages of his life, Xinhua reported.

Traditional style

The murals in the tomb appear to be well preserved. "The most familiar theme depicted in these murals is that of human figures under trees — a tradition that harks back to the Han dynasty [206 B.C. to A.D. 220]," Xiong said. Similar murals had been found in China's Xinjiang, Shandong, Shaanxi and Gansu regions.

He noted that the blond "non-Han" man leading camels has distinctive clothing. "Based on his facial features and outfit style, we can identify him as a 'Westerner,' likely a Sogdian from Central Asia," Xiong said. (The Sogdians were a trading people along the Silk Road routes between Asia and Europe at the time, living mainly in what are now Tajikistan and Uzbekistan.

He added that many of the murals gave "never-before-seen" representations of daily chores and labor during the Tang dynasty.

By Tom Metcalfe.

[mtchee]

Bubbles Along the Surface - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

A minor god awakened years after the Archon War, and with your brother, Osial, pinned to the depths below, you've made your own way in the world. In the most recent year, sailing with a merchant crew, you've forever decided to conceal your identity as a god, keeping to the life of a mortal with an intense fascination with the land of Geo. In all your years, its only now you have the chance to finally step foot in Liyue, meeting a tall and handsome man who eventually comes to be your beloved--but not without a few misunderstandings.

cw: not edited, fluff, minor angst, second-person-pov, spoilers for liyue playthrough but nothing major, osial is [name]'s older brother, archon siblings fr, zhongli loving on you, a reassuring zhongli, feat. childe but really he only gets like four lines

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[8.2k]

Eons ago, after the Archon war, arose a young archon hidden in a dreamless sleep beneath oceanic depths, protecting them from the catastrophe above. Awoken by the change in currents, they rose to the water's surface whilst their elder brother was pinned to the crust below—for they was the beloved sibling of the God of Vortex, Osial.

Their own title, God of Bubbles, and it was they whom were responsible for the health of marine life and the ocean oxidation.

While their followers had either converted or were wiped out in the war, they retreated from their title as an Archon, knowing it would only get them into trouble with the rising seven who battled for their rightful seats in ruling Teyvat.

Though their stories never died.

Sheltered due to the war and then lost without their big brother, they began a new life as a merchant, sailing the high seas and traversing from nation to nation. Although the world had changed from what they had originally thought, they were open minded and of a bright spirit—and couldn't wait to explore.

"To Liyue we sail!" The captain called, a rugged but sweet man who practically adopted you, "they've new silks due for Inazuma on the second moon, if we get there early enough we can rest on some solid ground for a while. Lets give ourselves a holiday, ay?"

The rest of the crew cheered back ecstatically, having been docked in Schneznaya for more than long enough. They could use a change of scenery; most weren't built for this kind of cold.

You laughed at their eagerness, quickly aiding your mates in loading on the last few crates of supplies before the ship was to set off once more.

You made sure your route was clear of storm—well, as much as you could. Your power's influence was better equipped for the water's depths, not its surface.

But you made do.

"Excited, love?" Darla, a Fontaine merchant about ten years your senior (physically at least) approached, a wide and knowing grin on her face, "you've always wanted to go to Liyue, haven't you?"

You grin back, eyes closed as you giggle sheepishly, "You've heard all my rambles, haven't you? Of course I am! And we get to stay there for... how long? Oh! Almost two moons! Two moons! Darla, that's two months of exploring! I've always wanted to visit the adepti shrines..."

"Of course you have," The older woman rolls her eyes playfully, gently bumping into your hip, "calm yourself, dear. We don't want you to combust."

You laugh at her in good nature.

"How come we're staying so long anyway? Not that I'm complaining."

"Why do you think?" Darla gives you an incredulous look, "because you're the captain's pearl, that's why. He's always had a soft spot for you," she nods her head towards the old man by the wheel, "not that the rest of us mind. Gives us a break too."

They watch as while the evening prevails, the ship's leader bounds below deck despite his age and practically hauls up a barrel of drinks for the mates to share, letting out a bellowing laugh all the whilst.

You snort, "Mm, I see what you mean."

After a week or so of smooth sailing, you finally port in Liyue Harbour and settle yourselves at the available inns, unloading any personal cargo and clearing the ship for its future stocks.

The Portside is bustling with life, fishermen promoting their fresh produce and other sailors maintaining their boats. Your eyes are wide in awe at the architecture and vivacity, excitement only continuing to build within you.

"Oh, pa!" You eagerly turn to your father figure with pleading eyes, "the city's just past the docks, may I please—?"

"Just be back before dark, alright?" The captain huffs out with feigned exasperation, "some of the crew and I will be hangin' around the plaza for a bit. Some place called Third around Knockout? I dunno..."

He scratches the back of his head before letting out a puff of air as you launch yourself at him, arms latched tightly around his torso in a hug.

His once narrowed eyes widen while the colour pink tints his sun kissed cheeks, "O-Oi!"

"Thank you, pa!" You pull back with a gleeful smile, "I'll be back soon, I promise!"

You lean up and places a chaste kiss on his frizzy cheek before rushing off past the docks.

The male stammers as some of the crew snicker at him from behind, teasing him for putting up his so called 'cold exterior'.

"Yeah yeah... uh, b-be safe!" He calls out at last. He quickly whips around to those laughing, "who're you chucklin' at, huh? hUh?!"

Eager to explore, you find yourself in the middle of the plaza ahead of your crew and are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of food and a rush of people.

You can't help but grin at the sight.

You wander past the open shops and stalls, simply admiring the sights and everything the locals of Liyue had to offer. You feel your heart swell at the kindness of a sweet granny who ran a toy stall, the elder woman giving you a colourful paper windmill with the only explanation being that you had a beautiful smile.

You express your gratitude and wish for her good health before continuing onwards with more of a skip in her step, gift clutched to you closely.

In the midst of your exploration, you bump into a tall man, profusely apologising as you stumble for your balance, toy falling to the floor.

"Ah, no sweat!" The male replies, and you look up to meet deep blue orbs and a boyish grin. The ginger haired stranger leans down to pick up your fallen gift, handing it back to you whilst introducing himself as Childe.

"[name]," You reply politely, shaking his hand with a bright smile, "it's a pleasure! Uh, a-apologies for the collision..."

At your sheepish expression, the male only chuckles and waves it off, a certain glint appearing in his eyes at the mention of your name.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He tilts his head curiously.

"Oh, no, heh, I'm a—" You stop yourself momentarily, clearing your throat, "I'm a foreigner. I work as a merchant across the waters."

"I see, I see," His gaze grows half lidded, flickering to the glowless hydro vision by your waist, "you like the ocean?" His curiosity peaks as he notices you perk up immediately.

"Yes! Indeed, aha, it's practically my life."

He gives you a nod of understanding, and you indulge yourself in idle chatter before parting ways, the male heading towards the crimson stairs leading to the balconies above. It's then that you realise where you are.

Not in the plaza, that's for sure.

Finding yourself lost, you take note of the increasingly darkening sky, "Oh dear..." your stomach drops.

Your eyes dart around hurriedly in hopes of landing on something familiar, spinning around in a circle and only managing to loose hope.

Your chest tightens as the sun finally dips past the horizon, and you cuss quietly under your breath. Your knuckles grip the stem of the paper windmill closely, the toy being your only sense of comfort.

"Excuse me," A deep voice adresses you from behind and you jump.

You whirl around, wide eyes meeting the chest of the individual talking to you.

Wary gaze trailing upwards, you come into contact with almost luminescent amber isises, and a concerned frown.

"Are you alright? You seem rather... distressed."

You take in a sharp breath, eyes flickering—the man is breathtaking.

He is tall and of a strong physique, with wide shoulders and a toned, but slimmed waist. His clothes are dark, although intricate and rich with black and brown to gold features.

His hair is long at the back, tied neatly in a low tail whilst the front frames his eyes in curt strands.

You blink, "Oh, yes. I—uh, ahem. I-I'm not from here, you see? And, um, I appear to have found myself a bit lost..." you can't help but feel small under his stony gaze, hearing him hum lowly in response.

"I see. From where do you hail?"

"Oh, I'm a travelling merchant. I docked today with my crew and told pa—uh, m-my captain that I would be back before dark, but..."

"Ah, I understand," The male's stern features seem to melt ever so slightly at your stammer, and he gives you a small smile to ease your nerves, "do you recall where you are suppose to be?"

"Somewhere called Third Round Knockout, I believe."

You give him a sheepish grin in return, toy clutched close. The stranger's eyes lighten in recognition of the name.

"A place I frequent in my days of rest. If you would like, may I escort you to your destination?"

"Really?" You brighten hopefully as he offers you his arm, "you wouldn't mind? Thank you, sir!"

"Zhongli," He states as you link your arm with his, "you may refer to me as Zhongli."

He smiles at you softly, causing you to flush, and begins leading you back towards the plaza.

"Mister Zhongli! Mister Zhongli!" You wave him down excitedly, the male breathing out a chuckle at the notion.

Throughout the following months, the two of you had bumped into each other once more and became well acquainted, soon becoming friends as you met up frequently.

The geo user became acutely aware of his new found friend's fascination with Liyue and was more than happy to show you around and tell you the many tales of said nation.

You got to know each other well within your first visit, you having been rather disheartened when the time came for you and your crew to leave--though the man had assured you that when you next returned, he would still be waiting.

"[name]," He greets with a gentle smile, opening his arms as you gleefully jumps into them, "how have you been fairing?"

"Good," You reply curtly, smiling up at him, "but better now that I'm here."

You laugh when he shake his head at you, "What about you? Are you okay?"

Zhongli tilts his head slightly with a confused hum, "I heard about the Archon's passing, news of it has already reached Fontaine although it was a few days ago. Are you alright?"

"Oh, that, yes," Zhongli clears his throat and composes himself, "indeed, it is tragic. However, I believe the Qixing has everything under control."

"I suppose. Something doesn't... feel right though..."

He leans forwards in interest, a certain glint in his eyes at your words.

"Oh? How so?"

"I'm not sure, I just feel as though Morax—uh," You glance at him momentarily, catching yourself before you blurt out something controversial.

As an Archon yourself, you swore you could still sense the presence of Liyue's God; though you doubt herself, chalking it up to the fact that you were an inexperienced Archon, simply sensing the ramenants of his power.

"N-nothing. It just feels, odd? Someone having the ability to murder a God, and the Geo Archon no less... Um, anyway..."

Zhongli hums, the glint in his eyes ever so prominent, "I understand what you are inferring. In any case, it will be a long time before any such revelations come to fruition."

He takes note of your nerves, watching as you squeeze your left hand nervously and swiftly changes the subject to ease your discomfort.

You traverse towards Yujing Terrace, where Zhongli breaks any silence by running his mouth on about the flowers maintained in the gardens.

"A dear friend of mine, Madame Ping maintains the flora."

"Really?" You hum, "what kind of silk flowers does she grow?"

"All three variations I believe," The man goes on to continue but is interrupted by a high pitched and child-like voice from afar.

"Mister Zhongliiiiiii!"

The duo pause and turn towards the sound, you tilting your head at the sight of a frantically waving, floating mushroom fairy child and a boy.

The unknown blond makes no attempts to hush his companion, simply shaking his head at her loudness before approaching.

Glancing to the side, you notice Zhongli's ease in their presence and calm yourself.

"Ah, Aether, Paimon, hello," He greets with a nod, "what brings you two here?"

"Oh, we were just about to meet Ms. Ningguang! We've got a special invitation to head up to the Jade Chamber!" The mushroom fairy child—Paimon—explains proudly.

"Oh? Impressive, indeed." Zhongli humours her kindly.

"Sorry, did Paimon disturb you?" The blond—Aether—asks, ignoring his companion's offended 'hey!'.

"Not at all," You give the two a smile, "don't worry about it. Zhongli was just going to show me around Yujing Terrace."

Your companion nods, "Aether, Paimon, this is [name]. A dear friend of mine."

"[name]?" Paimon blinks, "you mean like the—"

Zhongli clears his throat, "Anyhow, I suppose the Qixing won't be too fond of waiting. I take it you are prepared?"

Sharing a peculiar look with Aether, the two communicate silently.

"Right!" The blond scratches the back of his head, "we've just picked up a gift for Lady Ningguang. Hopefully it's good enough."

"I'm sure she'll enjoy it." The taller assures.

Paimon huffs and stomps in the air, "Hey! Why are you interrupting—"

"Anyway, we'll see you later then! It was nice meeting you, Mx. [name]!" Aether grins at you and waves before bolting off, leaving his companion dazed.

"I—uh, whaaa? Heyyy! Wait for me!" The floating mushroom fairy is quick to fly after him, the two fading from sight.

You laugh, mildly confusde, "Well, they're an interesting pair."

The male beside you releases the breath he was quietly holding, chuckling softly, "Yes, indeed they are. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, about the silk flowers..."

"[name]?"

You perk up at the sound of your name, peering up from behind the stock of open crates you had been counting.

"Oh, Zhongli!" You brighten immediately, hopping over the boxes to reach him.

"Hi! What are you doing here? I thought you had work today?"

Despite your concern, you give him a grateful smile, a familiar warmth creeping up your neck.

The man smiles at you contently.

"I took a small break earlier than usual, though my boss doesn't mind."

He internally winces and fights back a flush of embarrassment when recalling Hu Tao's thorough interrogation for the sudden departure.

He wasn't in any trouble for doing so, no—but once Hu Tao found out it was to see someone outside of work, oh boy...

"Ah, anyhow," he clears his throat, "I... wanted to ask you something, and I suppose I just couldn't wait any longer."

Your interest peaks. Unfortunately, so too does some of your crew mates--a few of them slowing in their work to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Zhongli takes in a breath, "I was hoping to be able to treat you to dinner tonight, if you would be interested?"

His amber eyes meet yours with a hopeful glaze. Despite his outward composure, he could feel his nerves skyrocketing once he took note of their minor audience.

Your eyes widen and you bite back a squeak.

Is this even real? Or are you just assuming things? Oh, you could feel the excitement bursting within you—wait, but you're an Archon... oh gods you forgot about that. Ugh, but he's so—

"[name]?"

You snap out of your thoughts, embarrassment flooding you.

You quickly blurt out, "Yes! I-I mean, uh," you straighten yourself up as to not seem so flustered, "sure, ahem. Um... a-are you...?"

Zhongli let's out a subtle sigh of relief, closing his eyes as he allows a ginger smile to grace his lips.

"Yes, [name]. If you would, may I take your hand in courting?"

Oh.

Oh.

OH SHI-

You tense and fight to push down an unholy squeal, mind racing. You could feel your mouth go dry the moment he reopened his eyes and made contact with yours.

You only manage to give him another giddy smile, nodding shyly with sore cheeks. Zhongli chuckles at you, taking a step closer and gently grasping your dominant hand in both of his.

"Then, I will see you tonight by the stairs of Yujin Terrace. Do not fret, my dear, you are perfect as always."

He brings your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon its skin whilst maintaining eye contact.

He gives you one last charming smile before stepping away and leaving the harbour, ignoring the light blush coating his cheeks.

Later that day, as the sun kisses the horizon, you make your way from the inn and towards Yujing Terrace.

The night life in the plaza is bustling, the noise and chatter growing faint as you move farther from the docks.

Well into the city and past Luili Pavilion, the moonlight glinting across the shallow water catches your eye.

You slow and stop for a moment to peer into the pool, smiling softly as the golden bass and koi curl towards you. You glimpse a shadow passes from behind.

You giggle softly and, with a wave of your hand, summon gentle currents beneath the water's surface to play with the fish.

While the bass laze and let the gentle currents drag them along, the koi play along with the hidden tides, weaving in and out of the streams.

"Ah, there you are."

With a gasp and a jolt, you drop your hand to your side and step away from the waters edge.

"My apologies, [name]," Zhongli chuckles light heartedly, "I did not mean to frighten you."

"No! Not at all, aha," You quickly smooth any secret crinkles in your clothing and give your suitor a sheepish smile, heart racing in mild panic, "j-just nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" The male quirks up a brow, "do I make you nervous, my dear?" Though his eyes--sharp as always--watch you attentively, the cheeky glint and subtle smile gives him away.

Stumbling over your tongue, you simply sigh and give him a pleading look, warmth creeping up behind your ears. Zhongli just smiles at you before offering you his arm; henceforth, commencing your date.

As evening turns into night, the moon rises higher and higher into the darkening sky with the two of you remaining arm in arm.

You find yourselves at the very top of the Terrace, where the annual Rite of Descension would have taken place.

Overlooking the sea of clouds*, you lean yourself against the railing, sighing softly as you gaze down at the waters fondly. Zhongli remains behind for a moment, watching you and getting lost in his thoughts before finally approaching.

He leans down beside you, facing the ocean although his attention is drawn to your being.

"[name]?"

You hum in response.

"May I... tell you something?"

Your attention peaks at his hesitancy, and you turn towards him curiously.

Zhongli keeps his glowing eyes out on the ocean.

"What I am about to say must remain secret between us. It is something that only a select few know," His gaze never wavers, "and I hope it changes very little, if it changes anything at all, between us."

Your brows furrow slightly, and you give his profil a soft smile, tilting your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

Zhongli takes in a breath, "You know my name, correct?"

Your frown deepends, "Zhongli?"

The male nods slowly, "Indeed. Although, prior to this name, I used to go by many others—the most famous of which is one, revered, throughout all of Liyue."

You lean towards him in your puzzlement, and it is only then that he looks at you.

"My name, is Rex Lapis."

He doesn't blink, and your heart stops.

You can't breathe.

Disbelieving of your own ears, you search his gaze for any sign of deceit.

Alas, he remains firm.

His sharp amber irises seem to glow in the low light, glinting beneath the moon.

You swallow nervously and take in an uneven breath, a single word passing through your lips.

"...Morax."

Dread fills your entire being, and fear overturns your heart.

Why would he tell you this?

Why would he tell you now?

Why should he have ever told you? You don't just say that you're a dead archon to your friends—

You feel deathly cold all of a sudden.

He knows.

All tension in your being drops into the weight of lead as the entirety of Teyvat comes to a halt.

He knows. 

He knows who you are, he knows you're a God, he knows all about you.

And for how long?

You feel sick to your stomach, and so you take a step back.

Seeing you fumble and your dreadful silence, Zhongli's firm gaze softens. He sighs quietly through his nose and moves towards you as he speaks.

"[name]—"

"Please."

He stops, face falling at the amount of fear in your eyes. He sees the unwavering fright in your very being.

The horrors of the war echo in your memories--whereby from stories or the experience of its aftermath.

Unadultered terror regarding your ultimate death as an archon sits like cement in your bone and tissue.

Zhongli watches, and you don't dare to breathe.

This wasn't how it was suppose to go.

He steps towards you again, but you fear to step back.

"Please don't."

Your voice wavers, almost a whisper.

It takes every fibre of your being not to retreat in immediate terror. But you know the power of a God, even if they no longer claim the title.

Zhongli's heart clenches, eyes widening as his mind begin to race once he notices your form trembling.

Though your hands were tense and nearly hidden by your sides, he could see their tight tremors. Barely glancing off to the side, he could see ripples surfacing from beneath the shallow pools of water decorating the Terrace.

They slowly grew bigger, and began to bubble.

"[name]... My dear, please. Calm yourself—"

"D-Don't!" Your voice barely raises, though your fear and desperation are apparent.

"Please... I...I don't have any followers. I don't have any land. I-I don't plan on taking anything, I swear I've basically only just woke up—"

His brows furrow, "[name]—"

"—I'll leave! I promise!" Your legs give out, and you collapse to your knees.

Your terror filled eyes no longer dare to look upon him, "I...I'm not a part of the seven but... I-I didn't..! I'd never..!"

A pitched cry forces itself passed your lips, "if I had a choice I wouldn't be here in the first place so p-please! Please... Banish me to the seas! I just--I... I don't want to die..."

Zhongli's stomach drops, "Oh, my dear—no..."

Sickness fills him to the brim and despair overwhelms him in waves.

He slowly lowers himself to your level, gaze soft as he does so.

"[name], please, look at me," Your lack of response causes him to sigh, but his patience is ever present, "here, how about you take my hand?"

Sniffling quietly, you tense when he draws closer.

"...I couldn't... M-Morax—"

"Whilst I retain the name of a former archon, the name you have come to know bares no such burden."

He keeps his hand outstretched, "So please, won't you look at me?"

It takes a moment of tension before you feel you foolishly dare attempt to make contact.

Your head lifts ever so slowly, and though you refuse to meet his eyes, you gradually reach out a trembling hand to meet his.

Zhongli breathes out a silent sigh of relief, gently tracing his thumb across your tense knuckles to soothe your nerves.

He whispers small praises of strength and gratitude, smiling gingerly when you look at him in alarm and embarrassment when he presses a kiss to your stiff fingers.

"There you go," He hums softly, "nothing is going to harm you, lest of all me, my dear..."

Slowly, slowly, the tremors stop and terror fades from your body. Exhaustion clouds you once you you're conscious of your senses.

Your embarrassment only grows at the awareness of your state: settled on your knees and with tear stained cheeks—not just in front of another archon but your (once upon a time) date no less.

Uh oh, you forgot about that.

You take in a sharp breath and look away to hide your face, clearing your throat as you attempt to pull away your hand.

Zhongli refuses to let go.

Instead, he stands, and gently pulls you up with him. Your voice wavers, feeling the dryness of your tongue, but Zhongli is patient.

He waits for you to gather your bearings.

"How," You sniffle quietly, "ah... how long have you known..?"

You refuse to meet his gaze.

Zhongli smiles gently, "From the very moment you mentioned your name."

"What?" You blink.

He chuckles lightheartedly, "No mortal would dare name a child after a God, my dear. Besides, your youth as an archon means you have yet to master how to conceal your presence."

"Oh."

While mortals may not be able to detect a God among the people, there is always a connection from archon to archon unless they wish to mask it.

As you are a young archon (though two thousand years old, you've been asleep for the past five hundred) with your elder brother trapped beneath the ocean depths, you lacked the guidance he would have provided.

You've managed to figure out a few things on your own, but your isolation from others of your being have left you clueless.

Zhongli smiles at you softly, "Not to worry, my dear. While I may have officially, well, unofficially, really—retired from being an archon, you are no longer alone. Do not carry this burden by yourself, hm?"

You take in a bashful breath, "R-Right. Thank you, uh, Zhongli."

He offers his arm to you once more, keeping a soft look upon his features as to keep you assured.

You glance between him and the ground, hesitation clouding your mind before you rationalise your thoughts—he had known about you from the moment you met. If he really wanted you gone, you would be.

But you weren't.

And so you give him a shy smile before accepting his arm, and you continue your night at a slower pace.

Though you both remain oblivious to the soulless blue eyes that observe you from within the shadowed darkness of the night.

A sly smirk traces his lips—a that plan would soon come to fruition.

Nearly two weeks since that night, you help load up at the docks on a bright sunny day.

The ramp creaks slightly with every heavy weight carried over from land and on board, the workers chattering about as they go on with their business.

Zhongli and you had continued to meet up, occasionally for lunch, but more so in the evenings so you had more time to spend together. Your crew mates teased you relentlessly, but they were nice about it—thanks to your pa, that is.

He was in near tears when he first heard about it, sniffling about how his little one was all grown up, even when you've never been a child in the time he'd known you, but it was funny (and sweet) nonetheless.

Darla was ready for all the gossip, and gave you all the romance talk you could ever need.

Needless to say, you were incredibly embarrassed that day.

Particularly when Zhongli came to pick you up at the docks after seeing you were late. Never again will you let Darla speak to him.

Zhongli was amused though.

It was around midday when things began to get weird.

It was only you who noticed at first, though you brushed it off seeing as you would be the only one to notice.

You'd noticed the currents beneath the water's surface began to quicken, gradually turning into a swirl. Then the sky darkened, and the swirling currents moved further out to sea before breaching the surface—a vortex.

Thunder clouds rolled in and lightning struck the ground. At the sudden change in weather, the people of Liyue slowed in their works.

Panic came to fruition as the vortexes rose into the air, connecting with the storm clouds above.

Harsh rain pelted down on Liyue Harbour, the ocean waves rising and crashing down like a dominoes on the docks; the water became so rough it began to damage the boats and ships, fiercely pulling the wooden stakes of the docks.

"Run! Run!" People screamed, "move inland!"

"Away from the waters!"

"Move! Quickly!"

The harbour was in hysterics.

You felt pain grip your heart at the fearful screams of the people you had come to love, worry flooding you as the wooden stakes began to rock.

"[name]!" Your pa comes barrelling towards you with heavy footsteps, his rain drenched clothes weighing him down, "stay away from the boats! Get inside the buildings!"

He hurriedly nudges you away from the docking point, eyes rapidly blinking to get rid of the water.

"What about you?!"

You have to yell over the sound of the thunder and heavy rainfall.

"I'm getting the rest of the crew!" He calls back, "stay put!"

You can do nothing but nod, dumbfounded at the sudden turn of events.

As you turn to leave the harbour, a deep voice calls for you.

It's quiet, yet it rings throughout your head and echoes in your ears, and your eyes widen.

You recognise the voice, though it had been many centuries.

"Big brother..." You mutter under your breath.

You move your gaze towards the violent waters, seeing a small, snake like tendril beckoning you forwards. You feel a sting in your eyes--and not just for the pelting rain.

Nervous butterflies flurry in your chest as the rain falling around you grows lighter.

"[name]..."

The voice beckons you, and you move closer.

It repeats your name again, "little one... follow..." the tendril falls back into the water, and you gasp.

"W-Wait! No!"

You rush towards the rough waters edge and collapse to your knees, peering into the depths.

Desperation clings to you and you loose all rationale, a cotton haze in your mind forcing you to no longer pay heed to the life you had built since your awakening.

"Brother! Brother, where are you!?" Your eyes dart around before spotting the tendril once again, and relief floods your system. It motions for you to follow before disappearing once more.

You follow.

Chasing it across Liyue Harbour and spying it from the ocean border, it popped up each time before dropping down and appearing someplace else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself by the cliffs of Wuwang Hill.

You struggle to see through the veil of rain, the thunder grumbling louder and louder. Through the thick of it, you spot the faint outline of a man, his back turned to you.

Shock almost paralyses your body. You find yourself slowly moving towards the man nonetheless.

The closer you gets, the better you can determine some of his features.

While tall, he maintains a lean build, ocean hued locks cascading down his pale back. His body is adorned in a loose hanfu, colours corresponding with the oceanic depths.

Your eyes widen when he turns his head toward you, lapis blue irises meeting with the [colour] of your own.

The smallest of smiles tugs at his thinned, pale lips, fondness softening his gaze.

"Hello," He greets, voice—though with a slight rasp—is rich and otherwise smooth, "little one."

Your heart races, a heavy breath leaving you before you bolt towards the man, tears streaking down from your eyes and mixing with the rain.

"Big brother!" You cry out, embracing his form from behind.

Despite your affection, the male keeps himself facing the cliffs edge. He places his hands upon yours, tracing your knuckles softly.

He hums softly, "My dear, sweet sibling," a sad look overcomes his features, and he gazes out towards the harbour.

At his lackluster, you sniffle before looking up confusedly.

"Osial..?" You question, eyes glistening.

He does not ordain you with a response.

Your attention slowly draws towards the city of Liyue, absolute horror filling you to the brim at the sight of it—vortexes reaching from between the sea and the sky threaten to swallow the buildings and wreck the stone mountains, whirlpools drawing closer to the bayside.

You spot giant tendrils of a hydra composed of water thrashing amidst the chaos, roaring and hissing as the rain pours heavy.

"Osial!" You cry out in terror.

"Brother—what's going on?! What are you doing?!" You remove your arms from the figure of the God, pushing yourself in front of him in a panic, "brother, please!"

The male's firm eyes do not falter, and he merely glances at you.

"It is for the best, dear one," A frown makes itself known on his once passive features.

You feel a swirl of emotions well up inside you, "What? No, no! Please—brother, Liyue is my home!"

Osial's gaze hardens, and anger clouds his view.

"Liyue," He spits the name, "has corrupted you, dear one," his fists clench by his side, and the large tendrils of water grow even more fierce, "he has corrupted you."

Your stature falters, "W-What..?"

The man only huffs, crossing his arms across his chest as he holds his chin high, "Do not act so naïve. I know who you confide with. You have betrayed me, little one."

"Betrayed you..? Betrayed? Brother, what are yo—"

"You have made treason with the one whom trapped me under our depths for millennia. You have taken side with Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon—he has taken you from me!"

The God's hair rises in opposition to the heavy downpour, locks twisting into the form of snakes that hiss, "and so I too, will take something precious from him."

His voice booms across the hills and across the waters.

From the edge of the Jade Chamber, Aether and his comrades divert their attention towards the sound of the yell, and their eyes widen.

You feel your heart break in your chest, "What..? No.. no! Osial! Brother—" you begin to scream, tears, like a waterfall, steaming down your face, "brother, please! Think for a moment! Brother!"

The elder ignores your cries of anguish.

Staring you down sternly despite the ache in his chest. He says nothing as he pushes you to the side, walking towards the cliffs edge once more.

He turns to you one last time, a sharp bite present in his tone.

"Once this is over, I will be back for you, dear one. And him," His eyes glint dangerously, "I will kill."

And then he leaps, vanishing into the furious, crashing depths below.

Your stomach drops, and the amount of panic coursing through you makes you dizzy.

You can't lose your brother.

But you can't lose him either.

And you surely wouldn't be able to cope without your beloved city.

So you run.

You race through the forest on foot, terror coursing through your veins.

While it would be faster to traverse through the waters in your bubbled form, it's current condition would render you immobile, and it would only be easier for your brother to hunt you down.

You hiss at the rain hitting your eyes, pushing through the irritation and the pain as you continues to run.

Not to the harbour, no.

It would be much to easy for him to find you there.

You must get away, far away.

Away from the waters, away from your brother, and away from him—your beloved, Morax.

Zhongli.

Your body aches and your heart shatters, but you persist--never once sparing a glance over your shoulder at the chaos that ensues.

You didn't know where you were, but even if you were far, the distance between you and the harbour still could not disguise the explosion from afar.

Your eyes widen at the light booming from whence you had gone, hands covering your gaping mouth as you fall to your knees with a stifled cry.

That was it.

It was done.

The fight was over, but you could feel it, in your heart, that it was not your brother who had won.

The breath in you chest is forcefully taken from you, and you can't find it within yourself to fight for it back.

You stumble into the nook of a mountain base you had hidden in, falling onto the cobbled and cold ground with tears. Your shoulders heave with your heavy and silent cries, before a loud scream escapes you, rocking the land and rippling the waters.

A searing pain grips your heart.

Despite their victory and with their feet on solid ground, the traveller and the rest cannot help but feel unease.

After their win is assured, a shrill shriek of pain ruptures the air, having echoed from afar. The people of the harbour shudder and almost collapse, looking around in fear, worry, and wonder.

But the group know better, and Aether shares a look of alarm with Paimon—their attention is yet to be caught by the figure slowly and weakly rising through the bubbling of the ocean water.

Through your tears and anguished cries, your exhausted mind forces you into a deep slumber—your body rested in the cave.

You remain undisturbed for days.

Panic and worry consumes those who know you, unknowing of your whereabouts and your condition.

Zhongli, putting aside his contract, feared for you the moment of the attack.

News reached him quickly of Osial's anger towards Rex Lapis for having 'stolen' his beloved sibling, though information of Morax's mortality remain only with the adepti and the Qixing.

By request of the former archon, the traveller sought the help of the fellow adepti to track down the missing god, the Qixing keeping an eye out, though having to prioritise the chaos of the people.

Within the time of their search, you awaken in a daze. Though still heartbroken, your mind is in more ease.

You peek outside of your little cave, stepping out and glancing around. It seems that you made it to the border between Cuijue Slope and Tianqiu Valley, near the adeptus mountains.

About to leave your enclosure, a cold fear consumes you as a shadow obscures you overhead. You look up, spotting the retreating form of Cloud Retainer from above.

Panic grips you again, and you immediately return to your stone cold haven.

They've discovered your existence—they're after you.

After the defeat of your brother, they've come to deal with you next. Since the destruction your brother had caused, surely only death would befall you as punishment in suit.

Tears gather in your eyes again and you muffle a weep. Your body stiffens at the sound of a shuffle from the cave's mouth, and your throat tightens.

Slowly, you stand, keeping silent as the intruder grows closer. You take in one last breath, deciding to play defense as there was no where for you to go.

You summon your catalyst which rotates with your elemental, encased in a bubble with strands of water circling around it. In your spare hand you generates the first burst of hydro, ready to attack.

Anticipation and anxiety flood you as a head pops around the corner, followed by a body with a sword in their hand.

Without hesitation, you clench your eyes shut and let out a battle cry, throwing down your elemental and attacking at a rapid pace.

While your original attack is not powerful, it's continuous onslaught is fast and taxing.

Yells of alarm and pain are heard from the intruder, voices reverberating around the cave.

"Wait! W-Wait!"

"[name]—Wait! It's me! Aether—t-the traveller!"

"A-Aether..?" You slowly cease your attack and peek your eye open, gasping at the sight of the familiar blond male and his floating mushroom fairy companion, "oh! Archons..! Aether, Paimon—I'm so sorry!"

The traveller gives you a sheepish grin whilst Paimon shakes the remaining bubbles off her head, smiling at you.

"Don't sweat it!" The little fairy dismisses.

"So this is where you've been hiding, huh?" Aether comments, "are you okay?"

You shrug, weapon dissapating, "I..I don't know. I've been too afraid to leave, and had fallen asleep in my grief... I don't know how to feel."

The male hums, "Liyue has been looking for you, you know," his voice is gentle, "come on. Everyone is worried."

With a bit more coaxing, the traveller and his companion manage to lead you out of the cave.

You freeze at the sight of someone waiting outside.

Xiao had been standing guard the mouth of the cave, waiting for Aether's return. His hardened eyes meet yours, and you cower in fear, re-summoning your catalyst on a whim.

Your hands bubble with hydro.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy!" Paimon flies in front of you, waving her arms about frantically, "it's just Xiao! Paimon knows he looks scary, but Paimon promises he's really nice! Deep, deep down!"

You glance between Paimon and the adeptus, who eyes you back wearily.

"He...he's not here to kill me..?"

"Kill you?" Everyone is taken aback by the statement, "why would he kill you?" Aether furrows his brows worriedly, "we've been searching for you for days."

"And Zhongli's been worried sick!" Paimon chips in.

"Z-Zhongli..?" Your eyes flutter, and your guard lowers, "oh no... please—take me to him..!" And so they do.

A weary but rushed trip back to Liyue Harbour consisted of Paimon fretting over you and lowkey (okay, highkey) freaking out over the fact that you were indeed another archon, you fearing for your life whenever Xiao so much as glanced at you, and Aether reassuring you that no one wanted you dead. 

Reaching the harbour was like a slap in the face for you, of both uncertainty and relief--relief at the fact that most were safe, and casualties were little, but uncertain of how those who knew you would react to you returning, especially the Qixing and Zhongli.

You wondered if the Qixing will let you roam or imprison you for your brother's acts, or if Zhongli will shadow you in favour for his city--though that would be fair, you conclude.

They are his people after all. 

"Baby pearl!" Your head perks up at the name, head darting around in search for the source of the watery call, "oh, thank the archons!"

Your papa comes barreling towards you, unshed tears glistening in his dark brown eyes as he wraps his arms around your frazzled form, "you're safe..! You're safe..." 

"P-Papa..." Tears, once again, well up in your pretty [colour] orbs, and you sniffle at the tightness of his hold, "...papa..!"

You let out a cry, sobbing into his shoulder, "I-I'm so sorry..!" 

"You're okay, pearl, you're oka-y!" The usually stoic captain's voice cracks, and he sniffles with you. As your tears die down, he straightens himself and clears his throat, turning towards your onlookers, "thank you, for bringing [name] back safe." 

Paimon tiltes her head slightly, "Hm? Doesn't he know that they're...?" She eyes you shaking your head rapidly and a lightbulb goes off in Paimon's head, "Ooh! Paimon gets it. Yes! We kept them very safe indeed! Hehe." 

"Of course, sir," Aether nods respectfully, Xiao simply dozing off into his thoughts. 

"Papa," You gently call his attention, "have you seen Zhongli anywhere?"

The man scoffs, "Where haven't I seen him? He's been frantic since you left. He's either by the pavillion or the terrace. You've given the young man quite the fright."

You sweatdrop.

"Ah, y-yes..." You give your papa one more shaky smile, planting a grateful kiss on his scruffy cheek, "I'll be back soon okay? I promise I won't be going anywhere again."

"Hmph, you better... now, come on you lot! We could use a few more hands down by the docks!"

Xiao promptly disappears at that, with Paimon groaning and Aether simply smiling and giving a polite nod before heading off to help. 

With that, the young archon begins making their way towards the destinated areas, checking the pavillion first before heading up to the terrace.

Anxiety pulses in your heart momentarily, but you quickly dismisses it--like papa said, Zhongli had been frantic, so you have nothing to worry about. 

Making your way up the stairs, you ignore the eyes of a certain ginger who walks opposite to you, watching as you pass him by.

Reaching the top, disbelief takes over your very being.

Your jaw drops and your shoulders sag at the amount of shock coursing through you. 

There, atop the end of the terrace, was Zhongli talking to a man only a few blue hairs taller than him.

His clothes are slightly tattered, and still loose, reflecting colours of the ocean depths. His skin, though pale, is slightly bruised. And although his brows are furrowed ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles rests confortably on his thin lips. 

It was Osial. 

Your brother.

Your brother. 

Talking to Zhongli. 

The geo archon. 

Civilly. 

How in the abyss were you suppose to react to this?

How the hell are you suppose to approach them?

Do you say hi to your brother first? Would Zhongli be offended? Or do you greet your lover? But wouldn't Osial be mad then? You couldn't really just waltz over either, you'd just been recovered from hiding. What does someone even say after that?

Your mind races with these conflicted thoughts, eyes dazed and mouth still agape in shock. 

You blink.

"Ah, [name]," Your brother addresses you first, the two men turning their attention to your figure, "dear one..."

His gaze is soft, a regretful look on his features. His shoulders are no longer held back and squared, and his chin is no longer held up so high. Sadness overwhelms him at your lack of response.

You continue to stare, only taking small, slow steps towards them. 

"I..." He sighs, "my dearest kin... I am so... sorry. Truly. It was I, who was corrupt, not you. Never you." His throat tightens, but he continues.

"So many years under trapped under the surface made my mind weary, and I was easily influenced by those you call the Fatui. I had not meant to hurt you, or cause you great fear... My mind was overwhelmed by anger when I was told that the very God who entrapped me had stolen you, forcefully entrapturing you," Osial closes his eyes in remorse, "it is only now that I learn it was all a ploy, and for that, I deeply apologi--"

He stops mid sentence, eyes snapping open in surprise with a silent breath. 

Once within arms length, you had thrown your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest with watery eyes. Osial looks down at you in bewilderment, Zhongli quietly chuckling at his expression off to the side.

You sniffle. 

"I'm just glad you're still here, big brother..." 

Blood rushes to the male's cheeks at the sentiment, and his own eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears. He takes in a sharp breath, holding you close and tight. He rests his chin atop your head.

"As am I, dear one... I had taken you for granted..." Osial is the first to pull away, smiling down at you gently.

He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing it gently, "My, how you've grown... so beautiful and mature now. I've missed you, little one." 

"And I, you, dear brother..." You smile tearfully back up at him, leaning into his familial touch. He places a loving kiss on your forehead before releasing you, stepping away and looking towards the former geo archon.

Your eyes draw towards the dark haired man, stomach fluttering while your heart does flips. 

Zhongli smiles down at you fondly, gaze soft. He steps towards you, outstretching his arms before pulling you into a secure embrace. He nestles his nose unto your head, breathing in your familiar scent.

"You had me so incredibly worried..." You flush at his bold affection, nuzzling him back. 

"I know... I'm sorry." 

He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face in his hands, "It's alright, my love. You're here now, and we're safe. Everyone is."

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart thumping from his endearment. He leans closer to you, nose brushing against your as his eyes grow half lidded.

"...I'm overjoyed that you're safe--"

"Ahem," Osial clears his throat, interrupting you.

Your face blossoms in heat with embarrassment, and you turn away in shame from your brother. Osial's arms cross with a deadpan look on his face.

"Not in front of me, you overgrown reptile," Osial hisses.

Zhongli rolls his eyes. 

"Blink, then, you water-born cretin." 

With that, Zhongli leans down and captures your lips in a long overdue kiss.

A squeak escapes you at his uncharacteristic vigor, though you figure he's doing so to get on your brother's nerves. Despite that, you can't help but indulge, eyes fluttering shut and humming into the kiss.

Your mind goes haywire at the feeling of his tongue gently running over the plump flesh of your lips. You can feel his breath through his nose caressing you, the air breaking upon contact with your skin, and he moans lowly against your mouth. 

Osial gags at the sight, "Alright--alright! That's enough! Get your filthy hands off of my family, you decrepit fossil!" 

It's safe to say that his protests went on unheard. 

[keeksandgigz]

thinking of eddie helping you braid your hair when you’re getting ready to spend the night

made this about eddie and witchy because i cannot stop thinking about them- this is also for the anon who said they can't stop reading it (thank u hehehe)

fluffy fluff below the cut, witchy being jealous and thinking of hexing his exes <3

He had to drag you into his apartment.

In a hilarious turn of events, due to some kind of San Francisco strike, all metro routes were suspended and there was no way you were going to walk in heeled boots all the way to Twin Peaks.

"Why call an Uber, baby? You can literally come upstairs at mine" Eddie says, watching you huff as you read over the e-mail about the strike.

"No Eddie you don't understand. I need to be home. I have a whole ritual! And silk pillowcases! Why can't you just drive me?" you whine, hoping he'll fold to your requests like he always does.

He grabs you by the shoulders, giving you a tender look.

"Because, my lovely witchy, metro routes being down means there will be absolute pandemonium in the streets. And I'm not trying to stay fifteen minutes stuck in downhill traffic" he laughs as you follow him around the store.

He's still working, you got off an hour before and after walking around the vintage stores for an hour there wasn't much else to do. It's just him in the record shop, working the closing shift. You follow him around trying to convince him to drive you back as he puts back the vinyls in the milk crates, folds band t- shirts, and rearranges patches in the display case.

"C'mon, witchy, just go up. I have Chinese takeout from last night or spaghetti if you wanna cook, I'll stop by the hair place across the block to get you a silk pillowcase. Promise" he says, leaning over the counter to kiss your forehead he opens up the cash till.

"But Ed-" you whine, you've never slept outside of your apartment before.

"No buts, I'm sorry witchy. Now get your cute butt out of here, I've got money out" he says, puckering his lips, ready for a kiss.

You lean over the counter and give him a quick kiss before he hands you the keys to his apartment.

"Don't forget to call Lorraine to get her to feed Circe!" he exclaims before you're out the door. You roll your eyes, of course you'll call Lorraine, your neighbor, if Lorraine existed.

But he doesn't have to know you can feed Circe with a snap of your finger whenever you forget to leave food out in the morning.

So you groan and you go through the backdoor of the store to reach the small, dingy courtyard of his apartment. Second floor, apartment 5C.

This building is so old it doesn't even have an elevator. You reach the door and open it, the rattle of keys falling over the counter is the only sound that can be heard, along with the clack of the short heels of your boots.

You take your shoes off and go through his fridge. Day- old Chinese takeout, a carton of eggs and milk. Three cans of Sierra Nevada, a half- drunk bottle of Coke Zero. You open his freezer.

Honey walnut shrimp and fried rice from Trader Joe's, a bottle of vodka, and a tub of ice cream from the last time you were craving it.

You roll your eyes and pick up the phone.

"Hey Ed, you have jack shit in your fridge. Can you stop by the Greek place down the block? I’ll have a gyro with chicken and falafel on the side” you request, hearing his groan at another chore he has to do post closing.

“Baby the Chinese food in the fridge is pretty good, it’s from the place we always go to” he’s not very convincing, but he’s tired and now lost count of the cash he was counting.

“‘kay i’ll put an online order for it so you just have to go pick it up, sound good?” you ignore him.

“Ugh fine but I better get, like, the biggest kiss in return.“ he groans, but it’s true. He is a weak, weak man when it comes to you. “Get me the pita wrap with lamb and fries, and lemme also get seasoned fries on the side. Thank you witchy, love you gotta go” he says, hanging up the phone.

So you order the food and then sneak in Eddie's bedroom to change into something comfortable. Getting rid of that fine line when clothes felt too much like clothes, the stitching pressing into your skin, the cuffs of your sweater feeling a bit too tight against your wrists, your jeans too tight on your legs.

So you venture in his closet and steal a pair of sweats and a ratty black t- shirt. One of his many. You go to the bathroom and notice there's no mirror. This dude.

So you tie your hair away from your face and use the nice face wash you got him- which you're sure he rarely uses- and wipe the makeup off your face. You go look for a clean towel, 'cause God knows you will not be wiping your face with the hand towel sitting on the rod on the wall.

After your face is clean you plop yourself on the couch and watch TV to pass the time.

Thirty- odd minutes later a rattling of keys startles you. Eddie walks through the door with his arms full of plastic bags. He places them on the counter.

"Hey witchy, I see you've made yourself at home?" he says, as you walk towards him and bury yourself in his arms. At least he smelled nice.

"Hmmm missed you, Ed" you mutter against the fabric of his t- shirt.

"You missed me?" you give a little nod, followed by a hum. His heart beats a bit faster, it's nice knowing you think of him when he's away.

"Aw, witchy. I missed you too, are you hungry?" he says, giving you a sweet kiss on the head as he detaches from your grip and reaches for the bag with the food, taking out the boxes.

"Also stopped by the hair place, got you that silk pillowcase and some shampoo and conditioner to keep here. Doubt you'll wanna use my three in one shit" he snickers, and you blush timidly. He's not sweet in the way that he'll kiss you in the middle of the street, but he is for sure sweet in the way he thinks about you an embarrassing amount of times a day.

"Thanks Ed, you didn't have to do that" you say, and he blushes, the boy tinges himself pink because you appreciate him.

"Y'know, anything for you" he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead as he brings the takeout boxes to the coffee table.

You follow him and plop down on the couch "I was watching 'Sex and the City' while you were gone" you explain, biting into your gyro.

"Was Samantha being her usual crazy self?" he doesn't even know who Samantha is, but he thinks it's funny to ask you every time. You giggle as he puts on a random show for you to watch.

After an episode Eddie stands up and stretches.

"I'm beat, I think it's time for bed" he says "c'mon, witchy"

You rise from the couch and follow him into the master bathroom.

“I have a toothbrush here for you, I kinda uh-“ from his tone you can tell he’s embarrassed “I got one for here the first time you came over, in case you ever, y’know, wanted to sleep over” he says sheepishly, while you wrap your arms around him.

He offers it to you, it’s pink. Your favorite color.

“Aw, Ed. You’re so sweet, thank you” you say and you swear you can see him blush as you place a delicate kiss on his warming cheek.

This slice of domesticity taken away from the mystic vibe of your apartment really makes you wonder. It makes you think about a normal life, with him.

The way he washes his face like a madman (without face wash), letting the water wet his bangs instead of pulling his hair back, the way he ties his hair up before brushing his teeth.

You take the toothbrush out of your mouth "Ah shtill don' undestand why you don' have a mirrah" you sputter, mouth full as you spit the toothpaste in the sink.

"Why I don't have a mirror? Previous tenant broke it and my asshole landlord still won't fix it" he says, taking off his shirt. Your eyes linger on the lines of his back a little too long, bordering the line between looking and staring.

So you turn around and you try to braid your hair without a mirror, but to no avail, every strand seems to be three different sizes.

You groan in frustration as Eddie approaches you.

"Lemme help, witchy" he says, standing behind you and tending an arm out for a hair tie.

He divides the hair into three strands. Your hair is so soft between his fingers.

He wishes he could stall so that he could caress it for longer, but an impatient yawn escapes your mouth as his hands deftly get to work. Over, under, over, under-

"Where did you learn to braid hair?" you ask, feeling the way he softly holds each strand, making sure he's not pulling at your scalp. You don't see him, but a smile forms around his tongue, peeking out of his lips in concentration. Over, under.

"I had girlfriends before you, witchy. They taught me to braid my own hair" he chuckles, as you try to tune out the word girlfriends. Under, over, under.

He can see a pout form on your lips, he smiles.

"Why'd you need to braid your hair?" you huff, thinking of going on a spiraling rampage and hexing every one of his exes. Over.

"Well" he begins "one time, an ex braided my hair and it came out super curly, so I wanted to try it myself. Turns out it needs to stay in the braid for a while for that to happen" he shrugs.

Under, over, tie.

"All done," he announces, placing a kiss on the crown of your head.

"Thanks, Ed" you examine the braid, flinging it over your shoulder "looks really nice" you say, and give him a small kiss at the corner of his mouth.

He gets himself into bed. His bed is oddly comfortable and his sheets smell of laundry detergent.

"I might have been washing my sheets every other day in case you wanted to sleep over" he confesses, blushing, as he lifts his arm, opening the warmth of his chest to you.

"You" you give him a kiss "are literally" another kiss "the sweetest guy" another kiss "in the history of always" last kiss.

He gets flustered when you call him sweet, because under the hardening exterior of black chains and shirts with exploding heads and hooded skeletal figures, there's just a sweet guy who loves you and wants you to like him for being himself.

"Just want you to, you know, have a good experience with me" he says, caressing your head.

"You get an 11/10 Yelp rating, can't recommend to anyone, though. You seem to be preoccupied with a really cool girl, and it seems it's going to go on forever" you giggle, as he smiles and gives you a kiss.

"Go to sleep, cool girl. Goodnight, love you" he says, before turning off his lights.

"Goodnight, Ed" you say, turning over so he can spoon you.

"You have to say it back" he whispers in the quiet of the dark room.

"Right, sorry. I love you too, Ed" you correct yourself and close your eyes, falling into one of the best sleeps you've ever had in your life.

The morning after, Eddie wakes up to his landlord bringing in a new mirror, his hair extra curled and all his exes blocked on his social media. But he doesn't have to know about that last one.

[spooky-pomegranate]

Eyes on Fire (pt 6)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 9.3k Read on AO3 Get caught up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Summary: Your daily life is upended after becoming Secondo's assistant. Meanwhile, Secondo comes to a startling revelation as he struggles to keep his emotions in check.

*apologies for the delay. literally fell down a flight of stairs and broke my hand. but we're back baby and better than ever. (Dividers by @wrathofrats)

Out beyond the summer gardens, there is a seldomly walked path. It twists and turns around broken trees, large boulders, and the placid waters of a glacial lake. There’s nothing important on the path anymore, or at least that’s what the upper clergy tells its youngest siblings, but the footpath is dangerous. It’s been decades since the ministry diverted funds away from maintaining it to build a straighter and safer walkway from the Abbey down to the lake’s oftused beachfront. Any markers that used to stand along the old route are long gone and the only indication a path used to exist at all are the faint traces of gravel that peek out from blankets of fallen leaves and overgrown grass. 

Most sane people avoid the old path. It’s not worth the risk they say. But every morning two creatures, one man and one ghoul, walk that crooked and crumbling path and neither is afraid…because they both know a secret. That at the very end of the path lies the most magical place on the Abbey’s grounds. 

The sun was still asleep as Secondo and Alpha walked along the forgotten pathway until they reached a chapel. Although it should be noted the chapel didn’t look much like a place of worship. It much better resembled an ancient ruin. Only three stone walls remained standing. Two were at half their original height and the third somehow still towered over Secondo’s head. There was no door. It had rotted away centuries ago, and the floor made of stone, was covered in a layer of dark green moss that was so thick it felt like a heavily weighted carpet underfoot. The only piece of furniture left in the ruins was an altar that had been crafted long ago from beautifully marbling petrified wood. But despite its well-worn appearance, when Secondo found this place years ago he immediately knew it was special. He could feel it in the air.  

Anyone who enters the Abbey, whether they are a follower of the Dark Lord or not, can feel dark magic around them. It’s often been described as an incorporeal haze. Although unseen, it lingers in every corner of the building and sits a bit heavy around you. In certain places, like the crypts and the ghoul dens, the haze is stronger. You can feel it physically. It brushes against your skin like a soft summer breeze or the flutter of silk bedsheets. But in all his years living in the Abbey Secondo never found anywhere where the haze was as strong as it was in the old chapel. 

So it’s here that every morning Secondo comes to start his day, to offer his thanks, and to hope that maybe today will be the day the Dark Lord finally speaks to him. Normally each morning in the crumbling chapel is the same. Secondo kneels before the altar repeats a round of prayers and offers any confession he deems necessary. Alpha kneels quietly beside Secondo and speaks only when spoken to. Any prayer the fire ghoul makes to his Lord is a silent one. This routine never changes. Every day is the same. 

But the morning after your stunt in Secondo’s bedroom, things went differently. Before Secondo could kneel Alpha was apologizing, spilling out words faster than Secondo could acknowledge them. 

“I’m so sorry about last night Papa. I didn’t want to disobey you. I should have never allowed it. I didn’t mean to offend-” Secondo held up a gloved hand and the fire ghoul caught his tongue. 

“It’s fine, Alpha.” 

The ghoul’s eyes snapped from the mossy ground up to his master, “Really? You’re not upset?” 

“Really,” Secondo answered truthfully. “I asked you to make sure she wanted for nothing and you did as I asked. I cannot be upset with you for that.” 

“Thank you, Papa,” Alpha sighed before bowing his horned head and inhaling deeply. Secondo eyed the ghoul carefully, looking over every inch of his guard. Alpha looked tired. Worn down. Exhausted. His shoulders rolled forward and his orange eyes looked more dull than normal. 

Secondo wondered if the fire ghoul was as burnt out as he was. 

Since his summoning two decades ago Alpha had always been a quiet ghoul. He hardly ever initiated conversations with humans and if the whispers around the Abbey were to be taken as truth, Alpha’s silence was born from his deep-seated distaste of human nature. Secondo knew that wasn’t really true but he saw how siblings often gave Alpha a wide berth when they passed him in the halls. He heard the names they called him. Most siblings avoided ghouls. But they practically ran from Alpha. 

Secondo never understood the cruelty. He had never really minded the fire ghoul’s reticence. He’d actually asked Primo for care of Alpha because he liked the ghoul’s quiet nature so much. It didn’t hurt that Alpha was more reliable and trustworthy than any sibling Secondo had ever met. 

And they had an understanding. 

Or so he thought. 

Secondo had always assumed that Alpha enjoyed their quiet moments together and lack of idle chit chat, but looking at the fire ghoul now he was starting to wonder if Alpha’s care was another item to add to his list of failures. Had he ignored signs that Alpha was struggling? Should he have been checking in with him more? Was Alpha suffering in silence like he was? Did he even like being by Secondo’s side? 

“Alpha?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you happy?” 

In all their time together Secondo had never asked Alpha that question. He wondered it many times but self-preservation had always held his tongue. Secondo had faults. He knew that. He wasn’t completely blind. But if Alpha hated him. If he hated his daily life then Secondo might just fall apart. He couldn’t be Papa alone. 

“What do you mean, Papa?” 

Santanas. 

He was going to have to spell it out. Secondo wanted to dig a hole in the moss under his feet and bury himself alive. 

“Are you happy by my side? Do you enjoy your life,” Secondo paused, swallowing against the self-preservation that had somehow turned to ash in his throat, “Do you enjoy your life with me?” 

Alpha blinked.

Secondo knew Ghouls were terrible liars. Something in their design made them brutally honest. It had something to do with being born from the brimstone of His fire. Or maybe it was because they were formed by the make of His hands? Secondo could never quite remember how the story went. Primo had told it to him so long ago when he was just a boy. But Secondo knew that while ghouls could joke and play around… for the most part they spoke plainly when asked direct questions. Normally that was something Secondo admired. He liked honesty. He liked people and creatures who spoke the truth. But right now Secondo wished Alpha was more human than hellspawn. He wished he would lie. He wished for anything but the truth because he knew it would sting. 

“No.” There it was. The answer he knew was coming. The sting hurt more than he’d expected. “No, most days I am not happy with you Papa.” 

Secondo turned away from Alpha and looked at the crumbling chapel wall. He felt like a fool. After so much failure the fire ghoul had been the only thing keeping him grounded. He’d been the only one who’d stood by his side. But now Secondo was realizing that maybe that was a bad thing. Maybe it was selfish to hold on so tight. Maybe he should set Alpha free. After all, why should two people drown in misery when one is far less cruel? 

“Would you like to return to Primo?” 

“No, Papa.” 

“Are you sure?” Secondo asked finding the courage to turn and look at his ghoul. “He will welcome you and your place in the band won’t change unless you want it to.” 

Alpha blinked again and Secondo tried to brace himself for another sting. “I don’t think my life here is about being happy. I know you’re doing important work and I want to be a part of your legacy.” 

Secondo didn’t know what to say. 

He didn’t know if he liked that answer. 

“But I was happy yesterday…” 

…with her. 

Alpha left the final two words unspoken and Secondo was thankful. His self-preservation was already teetering on the brink of collapse and he couldn’t bear to be pushed any further otherwise he’d have to die right here in this run-down place.

Secondo hummed in affirmation before closing his eyes. 

Alpha had been happy with you. 

You. 

Secondo thought of you. 

He thought of your eyes and how differently they had looked at Terzo last night. He thought of how happy and relaxed they’d been, pupils for once not blown wide from anger but instead sparkling with joy. Their iridescent color simply shining. He thought of your hair and how he’d finally seen it free from your veil. He thought of how soft your curls looked falling in waves around your bare shoulders. He thought of your face and how your lips had twisted up into that saccharine smile. A smile he’d never seen before and wondered if he’d ever see again. 

You had been happy. 

Alpha had been happy. 

Everyone in his entire damn room had been happy. 

There had been so much laughter, dancing, and joy. There had been so much happiness so much glee…and then he’d ruined it. Snuffed it out like depriving a flame oxygen. Secondo took a deep breath and tried to push away his own self-loathing. 

He thought of you again and the ache in his chest started to burn. It spread moving from deep in his lungs out until everything burned. Then suddenly Secondo started to cough. He coughed so hard that his eyes watered and Alpha immediately came to his side. A clawed hand gripping his shoulder. 

Secondo waved him off, trying to compose himself but the haze… it had never been this thick in the chapel before. Secondo could feel it sticking to his throat and sliding down into his belly. And then for the first time in his life, Secondo tasted dark magic. It was sweet like honey and floral like roses. 

If only he could have known how he would be chasing that flavor for the rest of his life. 

Apparently, you weren’t just Secondo’s Imperatrix. You were his assistant now too. 

You showed up to Secondo’s office at six am as he’d asked and were greeted with the biggest stack of paperwork you’d ever seen. The daunting thing dwarfed the tiny desk you’d been given and spilled onto the floor and over the carpet in Secondo’s office. There wasn’t much of an order to things and Secondo’s instructions on getting through the pile had been curt. Sign these. Edit this. Transcribe that. 

But truthfully you were thankful he didn’t have much more to say to you. You didn’t want to talk about what happened last night. You’d done enough of your own cross-examination, staying up half the night replaying it over and over and over again in your head while trying and failing to fall asleep. 

You’d nearly let him kiss you. What in the actual fuck had you been thinking? Papa Emeritus the Second. You’d actually let him corner you, and touch you, and tease you, and for some ungodly reason when it was all happening, you had wanted it. You had wanted him. Something in you had shifted and you became an animal motivated solely by the lust of their heat. Warmth had coiled in your belly like a snake and even a cold shower hadn’t been enough to quench what he’d started. Embarrassingly the only thing that eventually helped you get to sleep was the little battery-powered toy you kept in your bedside table. 

In the daylight of his office, knowing that you had made yourself come thinking about Secondo made you squirm. All that teasing had probably meant nothing to him anyway. You were probably just another sister in a long line of siblings he played games with. You felt toyed with like a mouse batted about by a house cat. Embarrassment was creeping in, especially since he hadn’t spent more than a few seconds looking at you since sat down at your new desk. 

Secondo was focused on his own stack of paperwork. While it wasn’t nearly the same size as yours he never seemed to take his eyes off it. He barely even took a second to blink. The man worked like a dog. 

If Secondo wasn’t signing papers he was on the phone. And when he wasn’t on the phone he was writing sermons and speeches and internal documents that were somehow all passed due. He never took a break, stretched his legs, or stopped for a sip of water. With everything expected of him, you started to realize there wasn’t time. There was always more to do, someone to answer to, or something that needed to be fixed. But Secondo was like a machine. He never ran out of steam. All you could do was try your best to keep up and before you knew it half the day was gone. 

Your head was pounding from so much reading and writing that you nearly cried tears of joy when the lunch bells rang. 

“Should I call the kitchens and tell them you’ll be in the dining room shortly, Papa?” 

You stood up for the first time in hours and walked around the desk, feeling the stiffness in your legs from sitting for so long. Secondo finally looked up from his work and his mismatched eyes met yours.

“No, I’m not hungry. Just bring me a cup of coffee and some water from the dining hall,” he replied coldly before turning back to his papers. You nodded and scurried out of his office thankful to finally look at anything besides the horde of papers. 

As you walked through the Abbey toward the dining hall you spotted Mountain as he tended to some of the Abbey’s ficus trees in the main hall. With a pair of sheers in his hand, he looked up and offered you a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey, little flower. How’s your head?” 

“Ugh,” you groaned posting up against the cool stone wall as you watched him primp and prune the small tree. “I don’t know why Alpha likes absinthe. I felt like there were bees in my head this morning.” 

Mountain chuckled before setting down his sheers and picking up a water canister at his feet. “Well, I had a great time. Dew won’t shut up about it either. Says he wants you to throw him a birthday party next week.” 

“Wasn’t his birthday last month?” 

“Yeah,” Mountain said moving further down the hall to another cluster of trees that needed watering, “but he said the one we threw him was lame.”  

“What?!” you cried following Mountain as he inspected the soil, digging his large fingers into one of the ficus’s pots. “He literally rode a bear!”

“I know! That’s exactly what I said. Little guy’s never satisfied,” he said shaking his head. “But anyway, how are you? Or maybe a better question is how much trouble are you in with Papa?” 

You paused for a moment and watched Mountain work. His fingertips idly traced the soft petals of a ficus tree inspecting it for rot and insect damage. It was amazing how such a large creature could care for something so fragile. 

“None,” you answered.“ I think Papa promoted me.” 

Mountain’s fingers froze over the leaves before he turned to look at you fully. “He what?” 

“I’m his assistant now I guess. He asked me to come to his office this morning and I’ve just been doing paperwork since. I was headed to get him some coffee now actually.” 

Even though Mountain was masked and the only sliver of his face you could see were his emerald eyes you could tell he was shocked. His dark green pupils blinked at you slowly, like he was trying to calculate the speed of the earth’s orbit divided by its distance to the sun. 

“You’ve got to be the only person in this place who can get away with what you did last night.” 

“Yeah maybe…” you trailed off before suddenly remembering something important you’d been meaning to ask Mountain. “Hey. While we're here I have a weird question for you. It’s about Primo’s garden.” 

“Shoot, little one.” 

“Have you seen any snakes out there lately?” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any actually. Pretty sure Primo does some sort of magic to keep them away. Looking for a new pet?”

Apparently, you were going to have to take a trip out to the gardens and ask the old Papa some questions. But that was fine you were overdue for a chat with the eldest Emeritus anyway. 

“Nah. It’s a long story. There’s a lot I need to tell you. But I really need to get going,” you said picking up Mountain’s watering can and handing it back to the big ghoul. “I probably shouldn’t test Papa’s patience anymore after last night.”

“Why don’t you come to the dens tonight? Aeth is cooking and I can make you a batch of the new tea I’ve been working on.” 

“Sure Mount,” you called out over your shoulder already walking toward the dining hall, “See you then.”  

The dining hall was busy. 

Siblings and clergy members piled in from all corners of the Abbey, settling down at the long wooden tables for their midday meal. The room smelled of hearty stew and freshly baked bread. Summer was ending quickly and the kitchen staff had already started to transition from lighter fare to heavier, colder-weather meals. You’d miss the strawberry salads and cold gazpacho but fall was your favorite. Spiced cider, fresh apples from the orchard, warm shepherd's pie, those were the best. 

You grabbed a large tray from the end of the buffet and waited in line. With every minute that passed a quiet pounding started to grow against your temples. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

You could feel it. A migraine was starting to build. The warm food couldn’t come quickly enough. 

As you approached the front of the line, you selected a portion of the hearty stew with chunks of tender venison and root vegetables, a slice of warm crusty bread, and a generous helping of crisp apple slices drizzled with honey. 

“Is that all Sister?” One of the kitchen staff, an older brother with dark hair greying around his ears, asked. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

The pounding in your head grew louder. 

“Actually uh…” you stammered, looking down at your tray and smelling the delicious food. “Can I have a second serving of the same thing?” 

“Sure thing,” the brother replied with a kind smile, ladling another portion of the stew into a second bowl. 

Secondo might get pissed but you were going to bring him back food. If he was anything like you, or even remotely human, you wagered he was sporting a similarly splitting headache. 

You carried the loaded tray before collecting two cups of coffee and two glasses of water from the drink station. Balancing the stacked tray, you navigated through the bustling hall and carefully avoided any wandering feet and stray elbows. But just as you were about to walk out the door a high-pitched voice called your name. 

“Sister… sister wait up.” The corners of Sister Luciana’s lips quirked upward, but her twisted and forced smile didn’t reach her eyes as she jogged over to you. 

“Sister Luciana,” you replied, setting your heavy tray down on a nearby table. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh aren’t you so sweet,” she cooed and you had to bite your lip to keep from rolling your eyes. “I just wanted to see if you’re okay. No one’s seen you in two days and I’ve been so worried about you.” 

Satanas. How fake could one person be? 

“Thank you for your concern, Sister Luciana,” you replied politely, masking your annoyance. “I was under the weather but I’m better now.” 

It’d be a cold day in hell before you’d tell Luciana the truth that you’d blacked out in the catacombs after talking to Lucifer and were held hostage by Papa in his suite for 24 hours. 

“Glad to hear you’re feeling better,” Sister Luciana replied. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe like she was trying to catch the lie on you. “I gotta tell ya I heard some of the younger sisters talking, you know how they like to gossip, and some of them seem to think you’ve been promoted to Secondo’s assistant. There’s no way that’s true right? He wouldn’t choose you for that.” Luciana’s eyes darted from you to the tray and the two servings of stew steaming on it. 

It was people like Luciana who reminded you why you avoided friendships with siblings. Anyone overhearing your conversation probably thought she was a concerned friend. Merely a sweet sister who was worried about you after your prolonged absence. But you knew better. This conversation had nothing to do with you. Luciana only ever looked out for herself. If she was here in the dining room at lunch it meant she wasn’t in Papa’s dining room. She was just worried that someone was taking away her access to Papa. And for a sibling like Luciana power and status were everything. 

“You know how rumors spread like wildfire around here,” you said, forcing a casual laugh. “But who knows what goes on behind Papa’s doors right?”

The skepticism was obvious in Sister Luciana's eyes, but you tried to keep your expression neutral. She smiled at you again and wished you better health. Luckily you were able to slink away without her pestering you further. 

You briskly walked through the halls of the Abbey, the tray heavy in your hands as you made your way back to Secondo's office. The pounding in your head had only gotten worse after talking with Luciana, and with each step, you could feel your pulse beat through your skull. 

When you opened the door to his office, Secondo was in the same place you’d left him, seated at his desk with the big stack of papers in front of him. His brow was still furrowed deep in concentration. 

“I brought you some lunch,” you said, setting the tray down on the tiny open corner of your desk. “I know you asked just for coffee, but they had stew today and it just smelled so good I thought you might want some.” 

For the first time all morning, Secondo looked up from his work. His eyes darted between the tray of warm food and you. 

He stood from his desk and you braced yourself for a reprimanding. You closed your eyes and waited for the fire and fury to rain down on you. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

The pounding in your head shifted to your heart. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

It was going to burst. 

You shot your hand to your chest and rubbed tiny circles trying to massage away the pain. 

But then the cool slide of leather brushed against your chin and you opened your eyes. Pain forgotten, Secondo tilted your face to meet his gaze. You stared into marble white and mossy green. You had expected his eyes to darken the way they did when he was angry, the green becoming nearly black and the white more piercing than an arrow. But Secondo wasn’t looking at you like that. 

He looked thankful, pleased, and dare you say it… glad. 

There was a moment before you remembered to breathe. 

You could smell him. Cologne, spice, and incense. The swirling muddled scent clung to everything. You swallowed it all down but the beast from last night returned and it wanted more. 

To taste… would it be so bad to push forward and just have a taste of him?  

Your lips parted and you breathed in deeply. 

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper as his thumb brushed against your cheek. “You didn’t have to bring me this.”

Then without another word, Secondo’s gloved hand slipped from your jaw, he picked up his bowl of stew and returned to his desk. 

Thud. Thud.  

Thud. Thud. 

Thud. Thud. 

As Secondo walked away the pulse in your heart returned to your head. 

You’d almost let him do it again. 

You idiot. 

You foolish and reckless fucking idiot. 

What the fuck was he doing? 

Had he lost his damn mind? 

Between this morning's incident in the chapel and whatever the fuck was happening to him now Secondo needed a minute to just… be. He needed to collect himself. 

He was thankful for the stew. The monotonous motion of simply lifting his spoon from the bowl to his mouth and back again gave him some cover. And he was thankful for it because he was spiraling. His mind was all over the place and if he’d even pretended to go back to his sermon he was sure you would have seen right through him. 

He’d touched you. 

Again. 

He had touched you. 

The same way he had last night and it hadn’t been some kind of power play or show of dominance this time. He’d touched you simply because he’d wanted to thank you but words hadn’t felt like enough. But why… why didn’t words feel like enough? You’d just brought him soup. You hadn’t brought him the moon. 

Last night he had meant to tease you. All he’d wanted was to get you worked up again but somehow he’d ended up touching you. He’d cupped your jaw and slid into your space before even realizing what he was doing. And you looked at him the same way you had just now. 

Your lips had parted, your breath had held, your eyes had softened, pupils growing and darkening, lashes fluttering, cheeks turning red, and you had looked… you had looked just for a moment… just for the smallest sliver of a second like you didn’t hate him. Like he wasn’t a monster. And you had…

No. 

Stop it. 

Focus. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Secondo cleared his mind and forced himself to concentrate. You weren’t supposed to be a distraction. You were here to learn from him and to serve Him. Whatever tricks his mind was playing on him he would squash. He would bury them inside just like he did so many other of his emotions. He had to remember what was important. What was at stake. 

The catacombs. 

The book. 

His voice. 

His guidance. 

His legacy. 

You were another test. He couldn’t forget that so Secondo ordered himself to focus. He finished his lunch quickly and tried his best to avoid looking at you as he returned to his work… but the ache in his chest persisted, a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with the stew he had just eaten. 

You sighed as you stared down at a particularly confusing text and Secondo couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed back from his desk. His papers now forgotten and stood abruptly. His chair screeched against the stone floor, echoing loudly in the room. 

He needed air. He needed space. He needed to get away from the suffocating walls that seemed to close in on him every time you were around.

“Papa?” you called out softly. 

Secondo ignored you and stormed past your desk, throwing open the heavy wooden doors to the hall. 

“Hello, son.” 

“Fucking hell!” 

Secondo jumped back from the door. In his jumbled mess of a mind, he’d forgotten about the meeting with his father. He glanced over at the clock above your desk.

Shit. 

He’d forgotten about the meeting he was supposed to have thirty minutes ago. 

“It’s rude enough that you didn’t come to my office on time. Now you’re going to just stand there and block the door. Move boy!” 

Secondo stuttered for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Papa Nihil to enter. Sister Imperator trailed closely behind him, pushing his oxygen tank as it creaked across the floor. In the corner of the room, Secondo saw you jump up from your desk and close the door behind Imperator. He’d forgotten to tell you about this meeting too. 

Shit. 

He hadn’t planned for anyone to be here for this. Meetings with his father never usually went well, and he’d like to spare himself the shame but it was too late to send you away now. 

Nihil and Imperator shuffled past Secondo and sat in the two tufted armchairs by the fireplace. Secondo moved to follow them, standing in front of the fire, and resting his elbow on the mantle. The heat from the flames licked at his back as he looked down at the elder pair. 

Nihil had always been a rotten bastard and a poor excuse for a father. How he’d managed to hold onto so much power in the Clergy, always amazed Secondo. He’d assumed, as did many others, that he would have been cast out of the church many moons ago if it weren’t for Imperator. It was she, he would need to placate today. She was the real power player in the room. 

Through the corner of his eye, Secondo watched as you sat back down at your desk and opened a little black notebook, readying yourself to take notes. He wanted to tell you not to bother. He’d never read them anyway. 

“Your lack of punctuality is concerning, my son,” Papa Nihil rasped, his voice muffled through the mask he held against his face. “Let’s hope you haven’t forgotten what we’ve come to discuss.” 

“I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been working hard on it. Last night I finished a new song. It’s called-” Imperator raised a hand silencing Secondo. 

“The clergy has concerns Papa. Have you reconsidered their offer?” 

If anyone else in the Abbey besides Imperator had asked that question Secondo would have barked out a list of insults so vile Satan would have blushed. 

“I understand,” Secondo said, forcing his tone to remain composed. “But I think the album is headed in a much better direction than the last time we spoke. Last night I-” 

“I don’t understand why he even needs to write a new album. Why can’t he just sing my songs and a few of his brothers? Wasn’t that the whole point of sending him out on that little tour last month? To see if this stronzo’s could even sing?” As Nihil prattled on Secondo glanced over at you, hoping to catch your eye, but you were too busy scribbling away in your notebook to notice him.

Imperator sighed loudly and Secondo looked back at the elder pair sitting before him. 

“You know why we need a new album, Nihil,” she scolded. “We need more followers. And new music is the best way to do that. It’s also why we have concerns over your album, Secondo. How will we attract more people to join us if your album is full of morose and macabre dronings? The clergy simply thinks a little outside collaboration will help spice things up. Help lift the veil a bit. Do you understand?” 

Secondo clenched his jaw and tried to swallow the boiling rage that threatened to spill over. The nerve of them to suggest diluting his art with outsiders, people who weren’t even members of their congregation. His music was sacred, a vessel for the Dark One's message, not some commodity to be watered down for the masses. 

“Honestly son, no one wants to hear it. Sathanas your lyrics aren’t even in English! Per Ad Ass whatever. See, I can’t even remember the damn title. How do you expect anyone to-” 

“I liked it.” 

Secondo’s eyes snapped to yours. 

You’d set your notebook down and were staring back at him, a meek little smile spread across your face. You pushed away from the desk and crossed the room, stopping beside him. Secondo swore the flames behind him jumped when the fabric of your habit brushed against his robes. 

Imperator raised an eyebrow, looking between you and Secondo with mild interest. Papa Nihil rolled his eyes.

“Sister if you're trying to get in this stronzo’s pants you don’t have-”

“Nihil enough,” Imperator growled, before turning toward you. “Please. Go on sister. What did you like about the song?”

Your eyes drifted from Secondo’s to the floor. Whatever had emboldened you a moment ago was slipping away. Your voice was soft as you started to speak. 

“I thought it was beautiful. I… I couldn’t get it out of my head after I heard it. There’s something… I don’t know something ethereal about it.”

As you shook your head Secondo balled his fist by his side. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to do this. You didn’t need to stick up for him. Nihil would always have something negative to say and for as long as he’d known Imperator she had never been his biggest supporter. But your eyes flickered from the floor to his and all his thoughts went out the window.

“No, maybe ethereal’s not the right word. It feels like… well it feels like that moment when we all gather together for Black Mass on All Hallows Eve. Everyone’s excited. A little nervous. Lust. Devotion. Passion. All those feelings we share builds that electricity in the air. You can feel it in your chest. That night it… it feels like the best of us. Like the best of our church, I mean. Everyone gathered together on the one night of the year we all looked forward to most. When the veil is thin and for most of us it’s the closest we’ll ever get to Him.” 

“Sister,” Nihil whined impatiently, taking a drag of his oxygen, and tapping his long fingernails against the armrest of the chair, “get to the point.” 

“I just mean. His song. Per Áspera Ad Inferí. It reminded me of why I’m a member of this church. It reminded me of why I’m here. Even if I didn’t understand the words I think it’s beautiful.” 

A TIDAL WAVE. 

A TORNADO.

AN AVALANCHE.

All three are natural disasters that consume. They claim every square inch of calm and bring complete chaos. Disrupting all that was. 

People can rebuild. They can lay out new foundations, frame new homes, and pave new roads. But life is never the same. It can’t go back. The world will never be the same once the snow tumbles down, the wave crashes in, and the winds wreak havoc. 

As Secondo looked at you he felt like one of those towns he’d seen on TV destroyed by such nature. His world would never be the same. Every thought that he had held was squeezed out. His world was disrupted. Interrupted. Changed. By you. 

Sathanas. 

He thought to himself. 

You’re beautiful. 

You’re so fucking goddamn beautiful. 

In was in that moment that Secondo realized you were the most stunning creature he had ever seen. He had denied it, pushed it down, and tried to bury his attraction to you and focus on other things like his papacy, the rituals, and the Dark Lord himself. But how could he ignore it now? How could he push it down and bury this feeling somewhere deep when you’d gone and said something like that? 

You went ahead and talked about the music… his music, like it meant something. Like it moved you. Like you had understood the very thing that moved him and motivated him to write it. He didn’t know when you’d heard it but that didn’t matter. You’d stormed into his mind now and there would be no rebuilding it to how it was before. He couldn’t ignore it. 

Maybe he should have seen it coming. Secondo was only a human. And so far humans haven’t figured out how to stop storms before they start so maybe he should have realized he wouldn’t be able to keep this feeling locked up forever. But he was here now, wrecking his brain. He saw you now. 

And you were so beautiful. 

His attraction had been there since day one, just simmering under the surface waiting for the right moment to boil over. But now it was happening at the most inopportune time and Secondo couldn’t put it off one more fucking second longer. 

He knew when this started. 

It had been the moment Imperator laid your photo out next to the others. He remembered it clearly. He was supposed to pick his first batch of Imperatrix’s. It was a high honor and an important duty as Papa but he hadn’t been able to pull his eyes off your picture. You were smiling, standing in the warm summer sun down by the lake. Your hair was undone, long, and flowing beautifully past your shoulders and you were wearing that sundress. The sweet little yellow thing with white flowers and a hemline landing just above your gorgeous thighs. 

You’d stolen all of his attention in that moment. So much so that he hadn’t even cared to look at photos of the others. He’d picked five more sisters at random. It’d been you he wanted. It’s been you he couldn’t wait to see in the dining room that first day. It’d been you he made sure was given the nicest suite. The one with the largest bath and the prettiest view of the summer gardens. He’d been disappointed when you’d told him you wouldn’t participate in the rituals but he’d tried to move on. The ritual was supposed to be only an offering after all. He’d been selfish to think of anything else. 

But Santhas how he wanted to kiss you right now. He could just wrap you up in his arms, yank off your veil, grab a fistful of your hair, and leave you breathless. He could have you panting, whining, begging for more. He could do it right here in front of his father and Sister Imperator. Or better yet he could kick them out, pick you up, and push you down against his desk and show how good he could make you feel with just his hands and mouth before he even used his cock. 

Fuck he could just-

“Why are we listening to this girl when she can’t even speak Latin?!” Nihil's ancient voice sliced through Secondo’s thoughts. “She doesn’t know what would make a good performer. Sister,” Nihil turned to face Imperator in his chair, “he is not ready.” 

“I may not speak Latin,” you snapped, taking a step toward Nihil and lowering your voice until it became an angry growl, “but I know that Papa commands every room he walks into. So why should a stage be so different? Why wouldn’t he be ready?” 

You took another step toward Nihil, positioning yourself in between the old man and your Papa but Secondo couldn’t let you throw yourself to the wolves. He reached for you, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you back to his side. He could feel your pulse throb with fury as his gloved fingers held you back. 

He wanted to pull you even closer and hold you against his chest but Secondo stopped himself. He was thankful for your defense but couldn't let you provoke Nihil any further, not when the consequences for you both could be dire. He needed you near. He needed you close. He wouldn’t let Nihil send you away for your insolence. 

Not now. 

Not now that you had finally consumed him. 

Imperator leaned back in her chair and observed, watching the exchange between you, Secondo, and Papa Nihil. She rested a finger on her chin, deep in thought. 

“Papa Nihil, your concerns have been duly noted. But, I believe the sister's perspective holds merit. Secondo you may continue with the album as planned for now. We will meet again in one month to discuss your progress.”  

Nihil grumbled under his breath but eventually nodded in reluctant agreement. “Fine,” he said. “But he needs to prove himself. We can't afford any more fuckups. Capisci?”

“Sì,” Secondo answered, biting down on his cheek until the taste of copper filled his mouth, “Capisco, padre.” 

A week had passed since your promotion to Secondo’s assistant. 

The job wasn’t easy, but you’d learned his routines quickly enough. A cappuccino in the morning. Reading glasses cleaned and on the left side of his desk before his arrival. A fire hot and roaring before he entered and freshly-cut firewood kept stacked in the rack by the door. 

The work itself was usually the same. Every morning Secondo started with the pile of papers on his desk. Signing, editing, and transcribing. As Papa, it was his duty to understand all the traditions and rituals of the church while guiding his flock toward or against the known and unknown dogmas. 

All important clerical duties were done by lunch. In the afternoon, Secondo dedicated himself to his music. He wrote, sang, and played his guitar, a beautiful acoustic thing with a solid Sitka spruce top and touches of emerald green around its body. Most days Secondo didn’t leave his office when he worked on his album, preferring to play by the fire. But sometimes he did wander down to the music room, where the walls are padded and he could mix tracks when he felt so inclined. On those days his most trusted ghouls usually joined him. Alpha. Omega. Aero. Crust. 

The nighttime was reserved for sermons. Secondo wrote and practiced them over and over again until his message was clear and memorized completely. You never realized how much detail was packed into each line he delivered at mass until that week. Every word served a purpose, every phrase held a deeper meaning. 

Through it all you helped Secondo the best that you could. You learned that he was meticulous about his robes and paints, both of which he wore every single day, so you started keeping lint rollers in his office and a pot of his special facial paints in your pocket at all times. You learned inspiration could strike him at any moment so you also carried a little black notebook and a pen in case he ever needed to jot something down. 

Alpha was around most days and you were so thankful for that. You enjoyed your time together when he did play bodyguard, posting up inside Secondo’s office like a sentinel. He occasionally would slip you little cartoons he’d draw of you or Papa. He was a talented artist and you wondered if all ghouls were born with such creativity. You wanted to ask him but for some odd reason, Secondo kept giving him time off saying things like “go enjoy yourself” or “make sure to rest.” It was strange, seeing Secondo pretend to care about someone else. 

Most days you didn’t speak to Secondo and the two of you worked side by side in total silence. Although on more than one occasion you did catch him staring at you, you tried your best to stay out of his way and anticipate anything he needed.  

Neither of you had taken a single meal in the dining hall in the past week either. There was too much to do and too few hours in the day to do it all. It’d become clear that Secondo’s last assistant was less than organized and the backlog of work she’d inadvertently created felt neverending most days. 

Every night when you dragged yourself back to your suite you felt the same. You were tired. You were body-aching, head pounding, feet burning, doggone tired. You’d never worked so hard in your entire existence and your social life, as modest as it was before, practically vanished overnight. Your world became absolutely consumed by Secondo’s. 

It’s been a week since you’d been able to see your friends in the ghoul dens. You never made it down for Aether’s cooking or Mountain’s tea the day he had invited you. You’d apologized for missing out when you bumped into Mount days later. He’d been kind and understanding, offering you a hug that you needed more than you realized. And since then he’d taken it upon himself to leave little snacks and energy drinks in your suite every night. 

“You need the energy, little flower,” he had said when he’d delivered you the first round of goodies.

The other ghouls helped out too. Aurora and Cumulus surprised you with little pink Post-it notes on your bathroom mirror full of encouraging messages and adorable drawings. Aether also brought you your favorite wine. And Dew brought you his favorite weed. Swiss, the chaotic little sweetheart that he was, lent you two piles of his favorite records. 

“Music to put you to sleep and music to get you going in the morning,” he had said when dropping them off at your door. 

At some point, you’d eventually figure out a way to thank everyone. You just needed a minute away from Secondo before that could ever happen. But today wasn’t going to be that day. 

It was Saturday evening and while most of the Abbey was preparing for a night of sin and revelry you were with Secondo, holed up in his office and staring down a stack of receipts that needed approving. Alpha had left several hours earlier and the sun was setting outside, casting a warm orange glow through the open window behind Secondo’s desk and a cool breeze swept through the room. 

Secondo had set aside his latest sermon and was plucking away at his guitar. You stole glances at him every now and then, watching the way his ungloved slender fingers danced over the strings with effortless grace. 

The song was different from the rest he’d been working on. This one was slower. Softer. If anyone else had been playing it you might even dare say it was sweeter. 

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…” 

Secondo sang, his voice rising over the crackling fire and gliding over you like the breeze from the open window.

“Ghuleh… Ghuleh…” 

You set your pen down and watched him. For all the vial names you wanted to spew at Secondo, you couldn’t deny him two things. The first was that the man had the voice of a fallen angel. You could easily imagine falling down again into the black void and meeting one of His princes. Maybe Belial or Beelzebub. You could imagine how they would probably sound the same if they sang. Confident, verging on arrogant but soft enough to corrupt any innocence they crossed. 

And the second thing you couldn’t deny Secondo was just how much you liked his voice. You could listen to him sign anything. The Macarena. Happy Birthday. God damn Barbie Girl. Honestly, it didn’t matter what Secondo was singing you’d listen to it all just to hear the way his voice could flit between light and delicate to those guttural deep growls that made your cheeks warm and red. 

You subtly reached up to your cheek and tried to hide the shame that they were indeed flushing red again. 

But luckily Secondo wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was elsewhere. His mismatched eyes were busy staring into the fireplace’s flames as he sang. 

“Putrefaction. A scent that cursed be. Under coat of dust. From the darkness. Rise a succubus.” 

On the last word, Secondo stopped, turned his head, and stared at you. If your cheeks had been tinged pink before they were bright red now. 

You had to say something. 

“That was beautiful.” 

Secondo’s gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat before he looked away. His fingers stilled on the guitar strings. Then Secondo did two things you never thought possible. He thanked you and he smiled. 

The deep-set corners of his eyes that were so often set in a frown shifted upwards. And his lips followed course. Moving big and wide. You were surprised at how nice it looked on him. How handsome his chiseled face was when he twisted it this way. Not that you ever thought you’d see it, but when you had imagined Secondo’s smile you’d thought it would be awkward, forced, and uncomfortable. But nothing about the way he looked at you now made you feel any of those ways. 

You don’t know why. But his thanks his smile…it felt like a truce.

Even if he didn’t know why you hated him and even if you didn’t know why he hated you something about the moment felt like a ceasefire. A break in the lingering feud between you both. You still hated him for what he’d said to you. And probably still despised you for your disobedience but right now… right now you could just co-exist. Right now that hatred didn’t feel important. Something else mattered. You weren’t sure if you could name it. But you felt it, fluttering in your chest and flickering on the tip of your tongue.  

Maybe the moment was getting to Secondo too, because he set his guitar aside and stood up, walking over to the window to watch the sun sink lower in the sky before rubbing his temples. 

You’d learned over the week that despite the front Secondo tried to put on he was indeed human. And he was a human being who suffered from pounding headaches just like you. 

“Headache, Papa?” 

“Nothing that won’t go away on its own, sorella,” he said despite mixing the white and black paint at his temples into a grey mess, as he moved his fingers in tiny circles. 

“Maybe you should take a break. Is there something you do to relax?” 

Secondo turned from the window and blinked at you. He looked surprised.

“I don’t have time for that.” 

You pushed away from your chair and reached into the pocket of your habit, pulling out a cotton handkerchief before handing it to Secondo and pointing to the grey smudges on his fingertips. 

“Well how about you take your guitar and I’ll take some of these,” you pointed back toward the stack of receipts on your desk, “and we’ll just go somewhere that’s more relaxing.” 

“Somewhere more… relaxing?” He repeated, eyeing you curiously.

“Yeah, maybe a change of scenery could help clear your mind.”

The idea seemed to intrigue Secondo. His gaze flickered between you and the window where the last rays of orange sunlight were fading fast. After a moment, he let out a sigh and nodded. 

“Lead the way, sorella.”

Secondo had lived in the Abbey his entire life and while he knew plenty of secrets about the old place he had never been here before. 

You had led Secondo through the Abbey into an abandoned classroom on the top floor of the eastern wing and climbed out its window. Then you’d scampered up onto the roof, where a black and red plaid blanket had already been waiting. A tin bucket sat next to one of the brick chimneys and Secondo peaked inside, noticing half a dozen smoked-down joints. 

You sat down on the blanket, deftly crossing your legs at your ankles, and waved at Secondo to join you. Secondo couldn’t help but think what a pair you two must make. What would people think if they saw you? A young Imperatrix, dressed in her most conservative black habit, not an inch of skin showing, and him…Papa Secondo, clad in all the finest regalia of his station donning black robes, mitre, and all. Even though the sun was almost fully set Secondo doubted that any sibling wandering the grounds below would be able to see either of you. But still, he felt subconscious about his dress. He normally didn’t mind people staring. But up here with you, he’d rather not draw stares. So he pulled off his mitre and gently set it on the roof before joining you on the blanket with his guitar. 

While the plaid blanket was decently sized, Secondo was forced to sit relatively close to you. Just a handful of inches separated the two of you. So he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon in an attempt to distract himself from the proximity and began plucking away at the strings of his guitar. Normally, keeping his hands busy was enough to distract himself. 

But tonight it wasn’t cutting it. Secondo couldn’t focus. 

Being here with you was so much different than his office or the music room. This felt too intimate. Two people, lying under the stars, with music in the air, this felt more like a date than the tail end of a long working day. And while Secondo was ready to admit that you were beautiful he wasn’t ever going to be the kind of man that took sisters like you on dates. He was missing that thing in him that sought out companionship, or the type of love that made people weak and vulnerable. Secondo was determined never to let himself be so at the mercy of another person. 

“I’ve never brought another human up here before?” Your voice cut through his idle strumming.

“Human?” 

“Yeah,” you said fidgeting with your habit. “I’ve only ever brought the ghouls up here.” 

Secondo raised an eyebrow. Most siblings were terrified of ghouls. But you were apparently comfortable enough to lay with them under the stars. Who were you? 

“The ghouls… they are your friends?” 

“They’re my only friends.” 

For two people who have spent every waking minute together over the past 7 days, Secondo realized then he knew absolutely nothing about you. He shifted on the blanket, moving his long under his thighs. Then he turned his broad shoulders in your direction so he could look at you fully. He hoped you look back at him. 

But you avoided his eye contact and stared up into the sky. 

The moonlight glistened on your face, casting shadows in the hollows of your cheeks and Secondo was struck by how ethereal you looked, like a beautiful unholy being bathed in silver light. 

“You are beautiful, sorella.” 

The words were out of Secondo’s mouth before he realized it. They’d simply escaped, like taking a breath, without any consciousness. 

But Secondo didn’t want to take them back. They were the truth and he couldn’t rewind time. All he could do was wait for you to say something… anything. The minutes stretched like hours. But you weren’t going to answer. You had frozen in place and the only thing that emerged from your lips were shaky and nervous breaths that puffed out into the cold night like little clouds. 

Then Secondo did something stupid. He spoke again. 

“You don’t like me do you?” 

This time your eyes snapped quickly to Secondo’s and nothing could have prepared him for how much angry fire was burning behind them. 

“Fuck you.” 

“W-what?”

“I said fuck you, Papa,” you spat out Secondo’s title with ugly disdain and dug a pointed finger hard into his chest. “You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met in my life. I bet you don’t even remember what you said to me do you?” 

Secondo tried to rack his brain. He tried to think of any interaction. Any possible bump in the halls, or faux pau in the dining halls. He’d only known you for a week. He’d never spoken to you before seven days ago. What the hell could he have done in that time to make you hate him so? 

As Secondo looked at you, it was obvious he didn’t remember. There was no flicker of recognition. No flashback running through his mind. 

And somehow that felt so much worse. How could he not remember when you’d never forget? 

“Sorella,” Secondo pled, “Tell me please. What did I do to you?”

Go back: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

(Read on AO3)

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (19)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T Words: 1.5k Summary: Unharmed

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The town is filthy, bits of sheet metal dangerously bolted together with people peering out from the cracks. To your right a man at least a foot taller than you, eyes hidden behind goggles, is welding a sign to a post. Children run by in the street, chasing each other and alternately begging people for caps.

They look happy.

You try not to meet their eyes, keeping your face hidden. If there was one reward poster out there, there were others too. He’d ripped off the amount but if it was less than a thousand you’d eat your hat.

Well, his hat.

Actually no, it was your hat now. You’d taken it fair and square. Wasn’t that the rule of the wasteland? Take what you want? Someone had told you that once you were pretty sure. 

Maybe even he had.

You snort and shake your head. You need to stop thinking about him. With any luck he was out of your life for good. You’d gone west after you’d left him, avoiding your true route in the hope he’d think you’d lied to him about it. You’d been an idiot to tell him in the first place. But a town was a good place to get lost in, even if he tracked you in he wouldn’t be able to track you out - there were just too many people.

Dusting your hands off you duck into the nearest trader, scanning your eyes over the ammo stacked on the walls. The guns you’d taken off Coop- no, you shake your head. He was just a Cowboy, some ghoul who’d been leading you along to sell you.

No need for first names.

The Cowboy’s guns were versatile and you stocked up on a variety of ammunition, from the fatal to the extraordinarily deadly. His caps paid for them, with plenty to spare. You were still tying the bag to your belt when you stepped back into the dirty street.

“Spending my hard-earned funds, are you?”

You freeze, hand darting to the revolver at your side. He doesn’t flinch, of course - better people than you had been threatening him for decades. Centuries even.

He looks… worn out. Maybe it’s that you have his ubiquitous hat and you’re not used to seeing him bare-headed in the bright light of day, but he looks old. 

And angry.

He’s trying to hide it behind a sardonic twist of his lips and cocked hip, but he’s pissed off. He looks naked without his accessories, even his bandolier a sad mockery. But he doesn’t look one iota less dangerous.

You consider your options. Running is still one of them, but you won’t be able to evade him forever, not without a significant head start. You could pick a fight but you’d seen how fast he was. 

Alive and Unharmed.

That’s your ticket. He won’t hurt you. He can’t, not and get his money. It’s in his interest to have you go with him willingly. All you have to do is make him think that’s an option.

“Thought I’d go for a stroll,” you reply after only a moment’s hesitation, “see the area.”

He makes a show of looking around the town. “Bit far.”

“There’s a lot to see.”

He nods, lips pursing. “You took my caps.”

“Call them recompense.”

“You whorein’ now?”

Oh, you could cheerfully slap him. “Excuse me?”

“I figure you might have taken it for all that fucking,” he picks at his teeth with one fingernail, studying whatever he finds before looking at you again, “mediocre as it was. Wouldn’t be the first to do it.”

You upgrade the slap to a strangle. How dare he? “There’s not enough caps in the world.”

“Maybe you remember it differently than I do,” he takes a step toward you and you take an equal one backwards. He stops, giving you a lopsided smile. “Seems to me I had a little filly on my cock begging me to give it to her.” His smile turns lascivious, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Panting like a bitch in heat. I think maybe you owe me a few caps for that, come to think of it.”

Your hand darts to your waist, weighing the bag of caps in your hand. Slowly you pull one out, studying it before throwing it at him as hard as you can. It doesn’t hurt him, of course, bouncing off his chest with a harmless click.

“You want payment? There, have at it.” Another cap thrown, clinking off another button and settling into the dirt. Nearby, a ragged looking boy eyes it greedily. “I fucked you because I thought I liked you. Because I thought you were someone you weren’t.”

Another cap and the boy can no longer help himself, darting forward and scooping it into his palm. He nearly misses his chance, a girl no more than eight grabbing the first two. 

The Cowboy stumbles, frowning at the kids at his feet.

“You want your caps?” You dig a hand into the pouch, pulling out as many as you can. “Come and get them.”

Sunlight dances off the metal as they shimmer in the air, a veritable cloud of caps thrown between you and him. A cry goes up from bystanders, people rushing into the narrow street. You don’t wait to see what happens, turning and at a dead run before they have a chance to hit the ground. You hear him shout behind you, hear him curse.

Good. You hope he chokes on it.

Rounding the corner into the market you point at the first person you see.

“Hat and coat.”

He blinks and you take a moment to dig out a smile, breathing deeply. “Hat and coat.”

You grab them both from the stunned grip of the man sitting there. Swinging the duster off you walk back out, settling the new hat on and praying he didn’t have lice. Nearby is a woman who kind of looks like you and you grab her by the shoulder and cup her face in one hand.

“Run.”

She glances down then up at you and you try to dig deep, to make yourself soft, to sink into the moment with her. You sling the old duster, his old duster, over her shoulders, settle his hat on her head, and point. “Run.”

She does. 

There’s an empty crate nearby and you settle on it, shrugging into the new coat and propping your feet up, tilting the hat down to cover your face.

It takes a good minute before you see boots you recognize. You try not to hold your breath as they go by, not even pausing near you. You count to ten before you glance up, just catching the familiar bald head rounding a corner.

Backtracking you look for the best way out. It won’t take him long to figure out what you did. Are you safer in the town? Probably not, anyone here would sell you out for a cap and a half.

Outside of town then, somewhere you won’t stick out. There’s a forest to the north, not much of one but enough to blend in. You try not to look like you’re in a hurry as you head that way, watching for any sign of him.

Thankfully you make it out without incident, striding as casually as possible away from the town. Soon enough the walls are out of sight and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’d hoped to get a bit more supplies - and you’d left some caps in the pocket of the duster, but all in all that could have gone a lot worse.

You avoid the worn trail, finding a path roughly parallel and trying to stick to rocks to hide your tracks. There’s a stream up ahead and you can follow it up a bit and probably get him off your scent entirely.

When it happens it catches you completely by surprise.

Arms lift you from the ground, super human strength hauling you backwards and you scream.

“Settle down,” he grunts but you don’t listen, kicking your feet out until they catch on a tree and you shove the both of you backwards. He lets out a pained oof and you take advantage, clawing at the skin of his arm.

“I said settle down.”

A ringing pain in your ears, did he just hit you with something? Whatever it is you don’t stop. Reaching back you dig for his face, pressing your thumbs into his eyes until he yelps and lets you go.

It’s unexpected and you don’t have your feet under you, stumbling and rolling until you can spring to your feet in a crouch, glaring across the small space at him.

“Leave me alone.”

“Now darlin’, I can’t do that.” His drawl is sickly sweet, a lure you now recognize.

“Fuck o-” you start to bite off but there’s a popping noise, a slight whoosh, and something stings at your neck. With a shaky hand you reach up and pull the offending object out, staring at the long needle in shock.

“Did you just-”

Then, nothing.

☢ ☢ ☢

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[killerbananas]

Longing

Miche has his way with you in the firelight of soft snuggling turned filth.

🔞 mdni | masterlist | 1,421 wc | afab!reader x Miche x (light) Erwin

Warnings: smut; frottage, clit banging, nipple play, Dom sub tones, xxx 📼 in the background, hair pulling, facial, come play, creampie, rough sex, group sex, exhibitionism/voyeurism tones, teasing, size

AN: Repost from my old account.

The movie flashes blend bright whites and saturated contrasts across your skin with the warm tones of the fire casting you in glow. Miche’s eyes have no interest in the television, just the star curled in his lap, clad in only a long knit sweater and your shared blanket. The soft fabric of the piece you’re wearing is both comfortingly insulated and in excess, pooling around the natural curves of your body pleasantly, engulfing your breasts, but pressed to clearly outline your budding nipples perfectly.

Distractingly, from Miche’s perspective. He has to exercise more self-control than he’d admit to keep his hands to himself. You’re snuggled into the crook where his arm meets his chest along the couch, fairly focused on the screen. It’s not until a suspiciously lewd moan that he questions the source of hits his preoccupied mind that he takes more stock in his surroundings; the movie, which also may explain your nipples. The fire was almost too hot from where Miche was lounging. Then again, stars ran hot, didn’t they?

“Did we choose an adult film for movie night without realizing it?”

You giggle in the way he finds adorable and unique to your personality. It’s got him grinning and shamelessly grinding his burgeoning hardness into your heated core. Not a drop of shame taints his actions, which only increases the collecting arousal flooding your pussy instead. He nuzzles your neck, tickling you with his facial hair and fine threadspun musculature of his visage twining with his smirk and exhale.

Your fingers comb the densely thatched, dirty blonde hair whirling across his chest and you bite your lip as you conjure your sincerest bedroom eyes to pair with a silly eyebrow wiggle and pout. Your chest vibrates with his baritone musings that rumble gently from his own. You could listen to his voice and smile for an obscene amount of time. He knows and uses it to his advantage, which you couldn’t hate if you tried. It’s too consuming.

He’s snuck himself out of his pants with a flick of his wrist. He’s so hard, the opening of his shorts glide off his cock like dripping silks along heated velvet-firm glory. Your mouth waters at the brush of his skin against yours, rasping crisp cotton whispering in the crackling atmosphere of the fire. Once positioned right, all he has to do is slip against your labia, rutting lapping thrusts against your smoothness, stimulating his swollen cock as it properly shows, peaking from the pillowy skin of your thighs, flushed head dewy with pearling precome.

It sends pangs of longing, showing his love and enamoration with your body physically, erotically intimate with your apex. It’s also lovely that he’s slowly managed to spread your wetness to combine with his and cross both your eyes stupid when that fat head rubs against your puffy clit, playing your pussy like a lewd violin with his rod, a sonnet of whimpers harmoniously lilting from your mewling pout. Eyebrows scrunching and tiny points on your expression knitting pairs intoxicatingly well with the blossoming blush canvasing your delicate cheekbones.

Miche’s hands squeeze your breasts roughly with the sounds, then route beneath your sensitive underarms before lifting you from his lap. He gets you on your back on the coffee table, sweater spread over your body as if a gift to open how he pleases. He is kind tonight.

Your upsidedown vision engages with the scene on the television as the air hits your unveiling skin. The fire has been warm, but your body is beginning to spiral into overwhelming arousal that tenses muscles and encourages you to buck emphatically into Miche’s mouth when he gets on his knees to worship your pussy at the same time as the scene unfolds to your brain on the screen. A truly embarrassing and ungodly, carnal sound leaves your throat unbidden, but Miche knows how to soak up every sense with you. Your reaction tugs groans from his connection point to you. He’s absolutely glued to your pussy, licking sucking inhaling caressing laving loving you with his imploring tongue, insistent mouth, invasive respiration, invoking desperation, as if to haze his being on your supple cunt.

He drinks, inspirates his fill and then some like a greedy boy.

The actress in the film receives a smack from a man dominating her, popping sound making your eyes flare wide and then roll with Miche sinking two fingers into your softness, splaying to massage you open to his knuckle. He’s so tender and considerate of his size and strength, the care suffusing heady passion in your soul, as he takes his time just letting you open up around his curling appendages and grunting his choral contentment.

The smacking of pounding hips degrades Miche’s patience and control in equal heaving, dignity-robbing shoves that have his shorts non-existent in milliseconds and his cockhead resting on your clit again. He suckles the sweetness off his fingers as he breathes deeply of your scent, dragging his cock down slowly to part your folds like a Smith parting smelting molten cream with his own unbreakable length.

A sinful gasp marks the moment his pelvis hits your petals and jars a whole lungful of air from you. Miche watches your body ripple like passion incarnated into kinetic energy when he finally sinks in as deep as he can, which is far, considering he’s got your legs over his shoulder, letting his hips angle down into your rich pitch of lust.

“Fuck, take his load, you dirty cockslut.”

You couldn’t help it if you tried. So, you don’t. Your pussy clenches unbearably tightly around Miche’s filling member; it interrupts his rhythm. He looks up to see two men standing over a sweating woman, one curled over and fucking his seed into her cunt while the other busts his load across her face. He can’t help the flex he gets at the scene either. So, he doesn’t.

You both make eye-contact and blush, almost concerned.

“Miss him, huh? Maybe if we get you down on your knees, you can pray for him, angel. I know you both get so needy being apart like this.”

He encourages your arms to cling up around his neck, places kisses along your throat, letting you hold onto his body while he places you on the blanket that crashed onto the soft rug. You cannot bear the stillness and begin to writhe against his lean torso before he even gets situated, letting your walls cling to him, stroking him like he’s home inside you. If it feels so physically good to you, it simply must touch something as deep and meaningful in him as the searing pleasure hums in your nerve endings like buzzing aphrodisia. Indeed, he finds, it does.

“Legs.”

He’s still tender with his touch until he has you where he wants you. He’d caught the text blinking on his phone’s lock screen, thinking himself daringly sneaky to find just the position to drive all of you-

“Fuck!”

Oops, he might’ve pulled a little too much there, but your body is still giving him every indication that it only turns you on more. He’s got you facing the door, tits arched forward, kissed by the firelight, cock stuffed as far as physically possible on instinct to combine the pull of all of you downward onto him with the tug on your hair. It’s the second your body crashes like a crumbling tower of coursing sensory overload onto the rumpled blanket balled beneath your hips from Miche’s fingertips tapping rhythmic madness on your clit, that the Devil himself walks in. It’s orchestrated to the movement of Miche dragging your throat to bare it upward, meeting your eye as he fucks you through your orgasm stutteringly hard, mounted to get fucked into the floor. You end up stuck on his still thriving member, milking him fruitlessly, eyebrows laced with confused arousal that exacerbates the spasm of your climax harshly. It draws your lips into the perfect circle for Erwin to fuck his cock into once he can rip open his fly.

Miche does not stop thrusting as he greets the new guest.

“You’re here awful early, Commander.”

He always arrives two hours before he originally says because he’s needier than one might guess.

“It looks like I’m just in time from where I’m standing and she’s panting. How hard did he work you, poor thing?”

“Just fucking right so far to warm her up for us.”

“Hm, I’ll be the judge of that.”

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[paganimagevault]

Female Europid Mummy from the Necropolis of Subexi III, Grave M6, Turfan District, Xinjiang. 5th-3rd C. BCE. Source: Baumer, Christoph.The history of Central Asia. Vol.1. The age of the steppe warriors. London : I.B. Tauris, 2012. pg. 218 left DS329.4 .B38 2012. Image via University of Pennsylvania. See maps in the post before this one for a better understanding of the geography discussed.

"Section 26 – The Kingdom of Nearer [i.e. Southern] Jushi 車師前 (Turfan)

1. ‘Nearer Jushi’ 車師前 refers to the kingdom or state centered in the Turfan oasis or, sometimes, to the tribe which controlled it. There can be no question that Nearer Jushi refers here to the Turfan Oasis. See for example: CICA, p. 183, n. 618; also note 1.5 above. For the etymology of the name Turfan see Bailey (1985), pp. 99-100, which is summed up in his sentence: “The name turpana- is then from *druva-pāna- ‘having safe protection’, a name suitable for a walled place.”

“One other oasis town is currently under excavation. At Yarghul (Jiaohe), 10 km (16 miles) [sic – this should read 10 miles (16 km)] west of Turpan, archaeologists have been excavating remains of the old Jushi capital, a long (1,700 m (5,580 ft)) but narrow (200 m (656 ft)) town between two rivers. From the Han period they uncovered vast collective shaft tombs (one was nearly 10 m (33 ft) deep). The bodies had apparently already been removed from these tombs but accompanying them were other pits containing form one to four horse sacrifices, with tens of horses for each of the larger burials.” Mallory and Mair (2000), pp. 165 and 167.

“Some 300 km (186 miles) to the west of Qumul [Hami] lie [mummy] sites in the vicinity of the Turpan oasis that have been assigned to the Ayding Lake (Aidinghu) culture. The lake itself occupies the lowest point in the Turpan region (at 156 m (512 ft) below sea level it is the lowest spot on earth after the Dead Sea). According to accounts of the historical period, this was later the territory of the Gushi, a people who ‘lived in tents, followed the grasses and waters, and had considerable knowledge of agriculture. They owned cattle, horses, camels, sheep and goats. They were proficient with bows and arrows.’ They were also noted for harassing travellers moving northwards along the Silk Road from Krorän, and the territories of the Gushi and the kingdom of Krorän were linked in the account of Zhang Qian, presumably because both were under the control of the Xiongnu. In the years around 60 BC, Gushi fell to the Chinese and was subsequently known as Jushi (a different transcription of the same name).” Mallory and Mair (2000), pp. 143-144.

“History records that in 108 BC Turpan was inhabited by farmers and traders of Indo-European stock who spoke a language belonging to the Tokharian group, an extinct Indo-Persian language [actually more closely related to Celtic languages]. Whoever occupied the oasis commanded the northern trade route and the rich caravans that passed through annually. During the Han Dynasty (206 BC-AD 220) control over the route see-sawed between Xiongnu and Han. Until the fifth century, the capital of this kingdom was Jiaohe.” Bonavia (1988), p. 131.

“Turpan is principally an agricultural oasis, famed for its grape products – seedless white raisins (which are exported internationally) and wines (mostly sweet). It is some 80 metres (260 feet) below sea level, and nearby Aiding Lake, at 154 metres (505 feet) below sea level, is the lowest continental point in the world.” Ibid. p. 137.

“The toponym Turfan is also a variation of Tuharan. Along the routes of Eurasia there are many other place names recorded in various Chinese forms that are actually variations of Tuharan.” Liu (2001), p. 268."

-Notes to The Western Regions according to the Hou Hanshu. Second Edition (Extensively Revised and Expanded). John E. Hill. University of Washington.

[i1f3klic]

Sub! Steve Rogers x Soft Dark! Black Reader

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex, anal sex, mommy kink, Steve being shy to show his boy parts, manipulation, and just reader being a total mommy,

It was a regular Saturday for Steve Rogers, being one of the earths mightiest heroes, it had its kinks. Tony had recommended, no he basically forced all the Avengers to live in the compound, so they could be closer together. So back to Steve, every Saturday morning he would get up before all the avengers, and go for a run, which would take 30 to 50 minutes. But, the best thing of his mornings would to see you. You were always in the kitchen when he got back, he felt as if you estimated the time when he would return. Like you knew that he wanted you, and he perceived that you wanted him to.

You would always start up a conversation with him, because you knew he was always looking at you as if you were stark naked. He always wanted to make a move, but he was a bit insecure of his man parts.

The air in the compound was crisp, it smelt like roasted cinnamon apple. Steve just came back from his morning run, and there you were in the kitchen as usual in your silk black tight nightie.

(Changing perspective)

“Morning Mr. America” I say with a smile. Steve was looking like a morning delight, even after a run he looked breath taking. “Good morning Y/n” he greeted back. Steve was wearing a wife beater with navy blue shorts. His pecs were traced through his shirt, it was a sight for sore eyes. If only he knew the things I’d do to him. I’ve always liked Steve since the first day I’ve seen him. I’m not the back down type , I like going for what I want but with Steve, it was like I didn’t know where to start off from with him.

“How was your run”? I asked as I was making pancakes for Tony and I, that man loved my cooking. “It was alright , I was sweating more than usual” he replied, I looked at him and his head was down to the counter. We barley ever locked eyes , I think he’s scared of me , I like that. “You’re probably just getting old” I laughed, and he let out a small chuckle. He was so cute, I wanted him, no , I needed him.

“You shouldn’t disrespect your elders” he said as he looked at me. Something in his eyes flashed me, it was a zing. I knew that was my chance to do something. “I would never disrespect you sweetie” I said calmly as I made my way over to him. I was standing infront him practically towering him. He looked so innocent , I just wanted to corrupt him, take his innocence away.

I leaned in and kissed him , his lips were so soft. Our tongues were devouring each other. I wanted more, “Come with mommy” I said as I led him to my room. I sat him on my bed and I admired him. Who knew I’d be on the route to fucking Steve Rodgers, he’d been on my hit list for a while. He looked at me , he was so beautiful and precious. I bent down infront him, gliding my hands over his crotch , his dick was rock hard.

I was about to zip his pants down and he stopped me. “I’ve never showed anyone my uhh” he said, red forming on his face, he covered his zipper part with both his hands. I gently grabbed them and looked deeply into his eyes . “You’re safe with me baby , say the world and I’ll stop, anytime. He nodded and unhid his hands. I unzipped his pants and his member flew up, it was a solid 11 inches and he had a pink tip.

I licked around his cock, hearing moans from Steve, I sucked on the sides of his cock and then gobbled it up. Bobbing my head up and down , Steve starts moaning uncontrollably, “uhhh Mommy” he moaned, everything about him turned me on. I got up and got on top of him. I licked his lips and sucked on them, “Your so pretty baby” I said. I licked my lips and took off my nightie, along with everything else Steve was wearing, his abs were majestic looking. I rubbed my hands on his abs and licked on them slowly. Everything about him was perfect and he smelled like lavender.

“Come here” I commanded him, I pointed my hand to the bed and he did as I said. His whole body was exposed , it made be wet jus by looking at it. I went and sat on top of him , with his dick entering inside of me. “Uhh” we both moaned as it entered. He grabbed my waist and motioned up and down. He hit all my spots without even trying. Steve had no idea how much power he had over me. I claw on his back and we’re in sync. Our bodies are colliding, the air smells like me and Steve or sex in general.

I get off from him and arch my back to him, “it’s all yours baby boy”. The room is silent , I guess he was trying to figure out where the hole was. When he entered he groaned loudly, “Just move back and forth” I instructed . He started of slow and sped up after every shot. I moaned and he groaned . His dick was so big , I was enjoying every second of it. He held my love handles (did I use this correctly?) and controlled my shit. We were fucking so loud, the whole team must’ve heard us.

He finally came and we both collapsed unto the bed in awe. “Soooo , how was that Stevie” , “Spectacular”

Hope y’all enjoy <3

[hyper-lynx]

Two Cats Attend the Blue Moon Ball

Chapter 1: Dusk

Featuring @wizblr-blue-moon-ball's Lurien and @flowers-the-sun-witch, along with Hemi and Liam of course. This is the first chapter of probably several that I will make for some of the prompts. Character appearances will vary and can be removed on request!

A calm wind blew over Wizard Island Island’s coastal region, bringing a mild warmth over the old stones and dozens of pointy-hatted towers dotting the landscape. The sky was overcast, but it was clear despite this that the sun was near the horizon. The shimmering line of the ocean adorned the horizon. Along a path of well-trodden cobbles, the air bent and tore, until, with a burst of chromatic power, two felines landed onto the earth. Hemi, wreathed in the gentle fabric of his deep indigo dress, felt the lukewarm air suddenly about his legs until the dress behaved itself. The emblem of the moon was dim in the low light, but still plainly visible. Shortly behind him, Liam practically flowed out of the rift. His gown had the general design of the lunar hibiscus -- pink and, in Hemi’s opinion, somewhat bulbous, but still quite elegant. He held the corners of the dress in a way that suggested he had experience landing from a dimensional vortex in such attire. Once both cats exited the distortion, reality was quick to mend itself.

“Aha, we’re-- um.” Hemi looked around, then let his head tilt. “Where’s--”

They stood at the long-forgotten gates to a property that was seemingly completely absent. There was not a trace of any building -- in its place, an immense crater marred the landscape. The only thing that remained was a tarnished silver archway and a few mana crystals that poked out from the ground at the edges of the place.

Liam gasped. “Did something--?”

“Impossible. If something this big was -- gone, I’d have heard about it. Besides, that gate… must have been abandoned for a hundred years.” Hemi closed his eyes and tried to visualize the route on the invitation he’d been given, but he was certain it led to this general area, and there shouldn’t be any other large estate in the vicinity. Were all his days of anticipation really --

“Oh--! Hemi, look!”

Hemi opened his eyes to the sight of what looked like an angelic being descending through the clouds. He plummeted rapidly and then came to a sudden stop in the air just beyond the gate, not displacing any air or showing any discomfort in the process. An elf with radiant wings, blue into yellow, clothed in shining white silks. Despite his short stature, the elf had a golden power behind his eyes that commanded respect. The emblem of the Blue Moon shone in iridescent stone, adorning his crown.

“Greetings! Hyperlynx Hemi, I presume?” The elf spoke with a quiet tone that nonetheless carried through the emptiness. “I see you’ve found our ‘back entrance’.”

“Oh--! Um, hello, sir--?” Hemi stammered in response as both cats approached the gate.

“Lurien is fine. In any case, I’ve arranged transport for you and your partner. Please proceed through the gate.”

Hemi tilted his head to the opposite side and gazed into the spiky, terrifying chasm just beyond the rusted passage. “Um-- I ah, don’t have any flight spell active…” He glanced at Liam, who shook his head silently.

“That’s fine, sir. I assure you there are accommodations for all creatures at the Blue Moon Ball.” He looked down at some kind of brass handheld timekeeping device. “Although, I would insist you move swiftly. The event will be starting momentarily.”

Hemi huffed softly and looked to Liam, who took the lead. Liam gathered his gown about his feet and cautiously stepped through the gate. He half expected the world to suddenly burst into light and color around him, but no such thing happened. Instead, his foot met with a soft resistance, an invisible surface. It felt a bit like walking across a mattress. Seeing the leopard defy gravity, Hemi followed suit.

“Impressive spell, but where is--” Hemi was cut off when the platform was suddenly thrust skyward. The earth fell away, and waves of amber light emanated from the invisible surface above them as it blocked the wind. Lucien cracked a soft smile -- the emblem across his chest shimmered softly as the three beings were brought up. Even the clouds broke around the barrier above them, until--!

The sun, from its place ever-lower on the horizon, lavished golden light across a wondrous skyscape. A great layer of clouds the size of mountains formed the base, speckled with tiny sections of floating stone -- likely pieces of distant floating islands that came in the wind across the sea. Beyond the shelf of clouds, the light glinted on the water. Above it all, though, a grand estate was situated. The main island consisted of an immense floating mansion. In a way, it was almost more like a town  -- the lower section was something of a hull, with docking ports for flying ships and tiered gardens protruding from openings in its sides. Atop, the mansion sprawled across a massive expanse of once-natural earth, with what must have been hundreds of rooms and halls. Near the center, the peak of a wizard’s tower wis visible, adorned with the same lunar emblem.

Lucien watched the two cats take it all in as he platform moved in a grand circuit through the air above the venue. “Sunset really is wonderful at this altitude, isn’t it?” He noted. The light cast off everything, and the shadow of the floating manor lengthened forever across the clouds. Hemi took a moment to glance down at Liam, whose eyes were literally wide with wonder. 

Their dutiful invisible chariot let them down in the plaza just before the main gates. It seemed nearly everyone else was already somewhere inside, since this courtyard was otherwise occupied only by a trio of gnomes who seemed to pay the cat-men no mind. Lucien directed their attention to a statue of a human woman, depicted 20 feet tall in marble stricken with veins of some shimmering blue mineral. Water flowed from small slots below the woman’s feet into small channels that fed this section of the gardens.

“This is the original owner of the manor, Mistress Areth Lunacai. It’s said she discovered the arcane properties of lunar sapphire, and therefore mastered the art of permanent levitation. In her time, her genius was not recognized, so she wrested her family’s estate into the skies, where it still remains.”

“Wow…” Liam looked up at her. Hemi, however, was already distracted by looking at the venue itself. As the light of dusk began to fade, Hemi crossed his arms over his chest.

“Lucien, sir?” He interjected. “Are we late for-- anything?”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “You accuse me of being late to my own ball?”

“Um--! Well, no, I--”

The host smiled. “No, it’s understandable. You are actually somewhat early. While most attendees have made their way to the main hall and its waiting rooms, the formal schedule will not commence for half an hour at minimum. Plenty of time, no?” Hemi nodded and looked to the side. He thanked the gods for the impenetrably thick fur that hid his now-red cheeks from view, then took a deep breath. There was no great rush. This was an event for fun, after all. The sleepless night before preparing… the weeks of anticipation… It all led to this night, where everything was arranged for him. He walked closer beside Liam.

Lurien turned over his shoulder, towards a figure in a blue dress who had appeared amidst the gardens. “Ah, I see a new guest has arrived. Excuse me.” Lucien bowed and began to gracefully stride towards the newcomer.

“Hey Hemi, do you want to go meet them? The person over there, I mean?”

Hemi looked to the newcomer, then back at the red wisps of frozen clouds high above. “I think I’ll watch the sunset for now. You go ahead -- we’re all going to the main hall anyway, right?”

Liam nodded and followed Lurien’s path through the gardens as quickly as he could without letting any dirt get on his outfit. By the time he arrived, the host was already leading the other person back up a scenic route along the terrain’s edge towards the fountain. Their long brown hair -- adorned with red flowers -- was tied into a set of four pigtails that dangled about elven ears and onto the shoulders of a truly cute blue dress, tied with a red belt bearing a once-live sunflower. They looked up at the approaching beastman with only momentary confusion. Lucien, without even looking in Liam’s direction, nodded. 

“I’ll allow you two a moment to become acquainted. There’s a matter I’ll need to attend to.” Lucien announced. A moment later, a great eagle flew dangerously close to the edge of the island and began circling the courtyard. Lucien sighed and, with a subtle movement of his wings, lifted off to redirect the bird’s rider.

“Oh gosh!” The witch put a hand against her mouth and giggled.

Liam shook his head. “Some people…” He turned his attention back to the immediate environs. “Well-- ah, greetings!” Liam gave a curtsy. “My name’s Liam.”

The witch returned the favor. “I’m Flowers, the Sun Witch. It’s nice to meet you! I like your dress.”

“Thank you~!” Liam twirled around a little. “Yours is very cute.”

The witch smiled, but didn’t reply verbally. The two watched for a moment as the now distant eagle followed Lucien -- from this range, a point of light -- towards the arcane beast stables on the lower levels. “I’ve not seen a dress of that style in a while. Lunar hibiscus, right?” Liam’s head tilted slightly. “How did you--”

“I don’t call myself ‘Flowers’ for no reason. The color’s pretty accurate, too. Though, those flowers are pretty rare on the island…”

“Ah, I’m not actually from here. I’m not even properly a wizard -- that title belongs to my partner. I’m his plus-one.”

“Oh!” Flowers looked along the rim of the floating landmass. “Is that him?” She pointed out Hemi, sitting alone on an outcropping, watching the redness leave the sky as night took over.

“Yeah…” Liam put his hand behind his head. “He’s a little shy. I’m sure he’ll warm up when things kick off.”

“Flowers nodded, then tapped her foot. “I hope the host is back soon… I hope everything’s alright with the bird situation.”

As if on cue, on a beam of light, Lucien appeared next to the two guests. “I apologize for the wait, Mx. Flowers. I hope you’ll forgive  my cutting your tour short for the moment, as the floor will open momentarily. I suggest you both make your way to the main hall and meet some more of the guests in the meantime.”

“Ah-! Of course, thank you.” Flowers began to walk down the garden path towards Hemi. Lucien, apparently satisfied, vanished into light.

“Um--” Liam trotted after her surprisingly quick gait. “The fastest path is to the right.”

“We need to collect your partner, don’t we?” The sun witch glanced back at him. “Besides, I need to compliment his dress, too.”

By the time they arrived, the sun had completely set, so Hemi was just staring off into the swirling expanse of the clouds below. His ears were somewhat askew-- when Liam approached, they swiveled to face him.

“Hey, we’re supposed to go inside soon.” Liam let a gentleness into his tone.

Hemi stretched and stood. He used a quick gesture to disconnect the dirt from his dress’ fabric, so it became fully clean in an instant. When he turned around, he started at the sight of the witch who accompanied Liam.

“Oh--! Um--” Hemi gave a clumsy bow. “Hello-- I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you.”

The witch extended her hand. “I’m Flowers. What’s your name?”

“...Hemi.” He said, and shook her hand with his paw. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well. I like your dress~!” She told him. Hemi’s ears flipped, but he smiled in response.

A latch sounded at the main door. “Ah, it seems it’s time to enter. Have a wonderful time, you two--!” Flowers curtseyed again, and was off.

Liam looked at Hemi with a soft grin..

“What? I was surprised…”

“Nothing, nothing.” He took Hemi’s hand. “Another adventure, right?”

“--Right.”

The two cats proceeded towards the gathering group of wizards and the great oaken doors. The blue moon shone bright overhead.

[peaches2217]

⚡️

For the longest time, I’ve always headcanoned Peach being afraid of thunderstorms, since that’s usually the kind of weather Bowser likes to strike in.

⚡ - Scared of thunderstorms

You, my friend, are a genius.

Hiding

~~~

As soon as the Shiverian ambassador took his leave and the doors shut behind him, Peach slumped back in her seat. Typically she waited at least another ten seconds, just to make sure she was truly alone, but her mind was reeling so violently she could feel it in her bones. All she wanted was a moment’s rest.

Discussing trade routes and the renewal of international contracts while also pretending nothing was wrong in the face of constant threat proved difficult.

“Are you alright?” the most tender, most compassionate voice she’d ever had the honor of knowing inquired, and instantly she felt just a bit lighter. 

Mario had already relaxed his attentive and dignified posture in favor of stretching his arms over his head. This was normally where he’d crack wise about his aching muscles, how agonizing it was to stand in one spot for so long, his eagerness to spend the rest of the day on the move, but he offered nothing of the sort today. His eyes had caught hers during the meeting more than once. He knew she was in distress.

And why was the great Mushroom Princess in such distress? What threat loomed over her and caused her endless torment?

A thunderstorm. She was scared of a sodding thunderstorm.

With each crash of thunder, she had been forced to gather handfuls of her skirts under the table and hang onto the emissary’s every word to keep her own mind centered, or count each of his whiskers, or follow every last stitch and weave of his parka when the old creature began to ramble aimlessly. Losing face wasn’t an option. Revealing that one of her greatest fears was a fear shared by many a small child was equally unacceptable. Even so, keeping it reigned in for so long was exhausting. 

Each time their eyes met, Mario had nodded to her, a silent promise that nothing and no one would hurt her. Now that they were alone, she could feel the pent-up tension leaving her body. She had been safe all along. She could be no safer than she was now.

She smiled and prepared to assure him that she was alright, if tired and a bit frustrated — but an ear-splitting crack of thunder froze her before she could utter a single sound.

The bright and familiar delegation room went dark around her, and suddenly she was alone in her bed, shivering but not knowing why. Unpleasant sensations overwhelmed her huddled form. A sense of dread so heavy it nauseated her. Quick, shallow breaths, too frightened to fill her lungs properly.

Her bed covers ripped back and ice-cold claws wrapping around her.

“Peach?”

WIth a gasp, she was back in the delegation room. The silk of her dress stuck uncomfortably to her skin with sweat, yet a shiver still ran down her spine.

Eyes of the gentlest blue fixated on her.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself forward and bury her face into his chest, grip the straps of his overalls, weep and beg him to take away her memories of that night. Instead, she forced herself to breathe. Inhale, hold. Exhale, hold.

Mario held her gaze as she calmed herself, whispering reassurances all the while — “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here,” anything and everything she needed to hear in that moment. He had taken her hands at some point and held them securely within his own. She was shaking, she realized, yet he was so steady, so stable against her.

Thunder rumbled once more outside of the window, distantly this time. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands.

“I feel so childish,” Peach whispered, her throat tight.

“You’re not.” Mario squeezed her hands briefly before dropping one to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, and she sighed against his touch. He was far too understanding. Far too patient.

After another moment, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Peach couldn’t help a rueful smile, closing her eyes and leaning her head into his palm. “Like I want to curl up and hide.”

Thunder. She flinched and willed herself to focus on his touch, the warmth of his skin which permeated his gloves. She willed herself not to go back to that night. It was over. She was safe now. She was home safe, and Bowser was down for the count, and the one who always came through for her was right here.

Something in Mario’s expression shifted when she opened her eyes. He studied her face for a moment, and she in turn studied his, watching as a sort of enlightenment bloomed across his features.

He squeezed her hand once more and gave a single nod of his head. “Then let’s hide.”

And before she could ask any questions, he pulled her from her seat and led her out of the room and into the grand halls of the palace.

No one gave them a second glance as he led her towards the southern wing wherein lay her quarters. Mario had been a castle mainstay for years now, serving as her personal daytime guard for most of that time. There was nothing unusual about him escorting her to her room, especially in light of recent events, namely the two months she was kept as Bowser’s prisoner after being taken by force in the dead of night.

Mario had risked and almost lost his life ensuring it never happened again. Even so, he and the entire royal council agreed that there was no keeping the princess too safe. So in the interest of her security, he was assigned to watch over her at all times; he spent his days accompanying her as per usual and spent his nights on a cot in her drawing room, always on high alert, her ever-faithful, ever-selfless guard.

At least, that was the official story. In truth, nothing kept him there past sunset beyond his own free will and her tentative request, and the idea of sleeping on opposite sides of her bedroom door fell through within the first hour of the first night. Now she dozed each evening and woke each morning tucked safely into his arms. But no one aside from them and their closest friends needed to know that yet.

They made it to her room quickly and without incident, and Peach was almost ashamed of the relief she felt. Already she was eager to hide beneath the blankets with him. She would happily flop right onto the mattress, heels, makeup, crown and all.

Once inside, Mario took hold of the uppermost duvet… and yanked it completely off of the bed. Not what she had been expecting, but he’d never led her astray before, he wouldn’t start now. Right?

She observed in stupefied silence as he brought the blanket over to her desk, a sturdy and ornate piece with a roll top and an empty cubicle framed by drawers, large enough for her to freely move her legs during long hours of study (or swing them like a giggling teenager when writing to her beloved hero). Mario pulled her chair out from its nesting place within that cubicle and began arranging the blanket in its place, singling out the heaviest objects on the desktop to keep it held in place.

It hung in front of the entrance like a curtain, and she felt her face go warm in embarrassment when she realized what he was doing.

“...You’re making a blanket fort.”

“Nope!” He remained focused on his work, his bushy mustache unable to hide his cheerful smile. “This will be much cozier than a blanket fort. Nice, dark, quiet—” he stepped back to admire his work, then turned and presented it to her with a flourish. “Perfect hiding spot!”

She was so baffled that she didn’t even notice another round of thunder.

“This isn’t really helping the, you know, ‘feeling childish’ thing,” she confessed. Bless her Mario, her sweet, brave, noble Mario, she knew his intentions were nothing but pure, and yet…

He hummed in understanding, yet he remained every bit as bright. “No, no, Princess,” he said, approaching her and reaching for her hands, “I promise, there’s nothing childish about it! Luigi does it sometimes you know. Whenever he’s anxious or all his senses are overloaded? He’ll back a table against the wall, throw a blanket over it, crawl inside, e ecco qua! He emerges a new man.”

Stubbornly, Peach tried not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Yet the combination of Mario’s impassioned description and the mental images it invoked wrenched a smile from her all the same.

He was being serious. And for some reason, she was buying into it. Stars above she loved this man.

“...Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

Mario cheered and gave her knuckles a quick kiss before rushing back to the improvised hideaway, lifting one corner of the blanket and ushering her inside. “Your Highness.”

Everything within Peach protested as she sank to her knees in front of her desk and crawled inside. She ignored it and busied herself pulling layer after layer of silk into the enclosure; once she had succeeded in stuffing herself and her dress inside, Mario dropped the blanket back into place, and everything went dark.

Peach blinked, settling into her chosen corner and assessing her emotions as they played out. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a child. Worse yet — she felt secure. He was right. There was something oddly comfortable about this setup. For a moment, she entertained the thought of some villain entering her room, only to leave in a huff upon seeing her bed empty, as though this little alcove were a secret and private extension of the castle rather than a desk with a blanket draped over it.

Thunder, uncomfortably close this time.

“So what do you think, Princess?” Mario asked almost as soon as she registered the thunder. Her pulse quickened, and briefly her mind took her back to that fateful night, but she swallowed heavily and replied before it could take hold of her.

“It’s not bad,” she said. “But it’s a bit roomy for my taste.”

“Oh?”

“You could easily fit two more of me in here, or maybe three Toads.”

“Or… maybe one portly plumber?”

“I was thinking a dashing, handsome knight, actually.” Peach’s trepidation faded to the back of her mind at his bashful chuckle. For someone so outgoing, he flustered so easily.

She heard a soft thud, and then light poured back into the enclosure as Mario lifted the blanket to crawl in with her. A lovely blush still colored his cheeks. “I can’t promise I won’t trample your dress.”

“I have at least ten more in this exact pattern.”

He puffed out his chest in a dramatized show of confidence. “Then here we go!”

They spent at least three or four minutes twisting about, accidentally elbowing one another in the face or in the stomach, giggling together as they tried and mostly failed to accommodate the mass of her skirts and his, well, everything. But eventually they found a comfortable position: Mario pressed his back into one corner with his knees bent, and Peach half-sat half-laid in his lap facing the opposite direction, her cheek on his shoulder and her skirts swallowing the remaining space.

“There we go!” Mario shifted beneath her, and once he settled, he rested his arms around her waist. “Nice and safe, see? No one will find us here. Nothing will hurt us.”

Peach hummed and relaxed against him, draping her arms loosely around his torso. That was something he’d started doing lately, she noticed. It was never “me” and “you” anymore, it was “we”, “us”. Was it intentional? Did he even know he was doing it?

Whatever the case, she hoped he’d continue. She liked thinking of themselves as a set, two inseparable pieces of one cohesive whole.

A clap of thunder even closer than the last pierced the air around them. She gasped on instinct, her body going cold, but immediately Mario’s arms tightened around her, and he drowned out the noise with a stream of reassurances. He sounded so resolute, so certain of what he was saying. And in the darkness surrounding them, they may as well have been the only two people in the world.

Peach snuggled into his warmth and let her fears be carried away on the wings of his promises. He had never led her astray before. He wouldn’t start now.

[bilehwit]

Bilehwit - Old English, also known as Anglo-Saxon, the language of the Bretons after the invasion of Norsemen.

Bilehwit means pure, sincere, honest - absolutely a word to describe a sweet lamb.

Isn't it?

Read More for AU details - This AU is under construction, and will be added to in further posts!

Bilehwit was born on an exceptionally cold spring day, to the dismay of their parents.

'At a time like this, in a place this awful?' This was the only thought the new parents had time to think, before it was time to run once more.

Years would pass, resentment and stolen seconds of fleeting happiness would be grappled with, and one would die to heretics before Bilehwit turned sixteen. Only a few months later, the other died to illness.

This was still long before the execution Bilehwit was suspecting would be theirs at the hands of the bishops. Lambs became more rare, almost mystical to see, glances of wool that disappeared into throngs of shrieking worshippers, eager to please their own Bishop.

Bilehwit learned to hide, to find comfort in cold grass stew, and to ponder the meaning of their name. They certainly didn't feel pure, not covered in muck and cowering in bushes from their end. They didn't feel sincere, thanking people from under their hood as they took goods from hands covered in blood. They didn't feel honest, pointing down an alley at another hooded figure to throw people off of their own trail.

This story ends how you think it will, as you know it has to.

Bilehwit was caught.

It wasn't some chase from an epic, it wasn't some brilliant moment that escaped them just too fast. They had crouched in the dirt, watching a tiny beetle wander in the muck, and a follower of Shamura had pressed a blade to their throat and coldly informed them that they were the last.

The Bishops were not just ones to kill the last lamb - they wanted a spectacle. They wanted to show their power was not easily usurped by mere species. They not once spoke to Bilehwit - instead, speaking to followers in special garb, giving instructions in booming, thunderous voices.

Lambs spoke the common language of the land, but Bilehwit only knew the language of the Lambs fluently. Their common was limited to asking for berries and the usual pleasantries. They were not informed of the next processes as they were tossed around.

Cleaned up by attendants in white, then fed foods covered in strange spices, even dressed in a new robe in silver, Bilehwit had no idea as to what was happening. They were inspected all over, invasive hands pressing and searching until someone made a declaration and pleased voices rebounded.

Once done, they were thrown in a silver coloured cage, and placed on a large wagon. Touring through the domains, they started in Leshy's forests of Darkwood. The verdant greenery towered above, and worshippers of the Chaos Bishop whispered and giggled as they passed.

The procession grew as the wagon toured next through Hekets domain, Anura, mushrooms crushed under the ever turning wheels. A phrase kept being repeated in mocking tones, but Bilehwit kept their head high.

Kallarmar's domain, Waterdeep, was their favourite to be put through - all the followers were covered in gold and jewels, beautiful men and women danced along the route, and the water cast dancing lights around them. The followers oooh'd and aaah'd at Bilehwit - they seemed pleased at their mock finery, and children chambered up parents to catch sight of 'The Last Lamb'.

Finally, they went to The Silk Cradle. Bilehwit felt sick to their stomach - bones cracked constantly under the wheels, the followers of Shamura stared silently or clicked their mandibles, and the cobwebs draped like veils over the cage to the point one of the attendants of the parade had had to brush them away with a sleeve over their hand to allow the spectators to see the Lamb.

Finally, they entered a secluded fortress made of stone brick. Inside was filled with trees that towered above even the bishops, and the comforts briefly afforded to Bilehwit were stripped from them as they were thrown into a cell for their final night. The silver gown was taken, and their meal that night consisted of beetroot stew. Bilehwit entertained the idea of staining their wool with it, but their captors had other ideas that didn't spill a drop.

Bilwhwit was lead out the next day in late afternoon after their last supper - a meal made of a piece of each Bishop's domain.

Leshy's had bitter grass and a holly leaf. Bilehwit had swallowed them with a scrunched face. They were pretty sure Leshy had forgotten and had grabbed leaves off the first bushes He saw.

Heket's had a large mushroom, stuffed with some kind of cheese, dusted with a hot red powder. Bilehwit ate that one slowly, pondering the conflicting tastes - Famine certainly knew how to cook.

Kallamar had sent some sort of raw tentacle from a Squid. It had squirmed when dipped in the sauce, and Bilehwit had been frozen in place, staring at it, before closing their eyes and forcing it into their mouth, chewing and pretending it wasn't still twitching. It had scraped down their throat. As much as they liked the domain, this was not for them.

Shamura's dish was some form of roasted scorpion - a dollop of soured cream on top. It tasted like chicken. Legs crunched as Bilehwit ate something more familiar - bugs had been eaten by them before, and this was not different to them.

Finally, a strange fruit was placed in front of them, by a nervous attendant. It was hard and smooth, and the same golden hue as their pupils and hooves. Another attendant sliced it expertly, until it fell in quaters with firm, pale flesh. Bilehwit stared at it, and stared back at the attendant, who wiped the blade of the clear juice.

Bilehwit ate, and found this fruit was the most delicious of all.

They were given a greyed robe, and trussed in heavy chains, and then lead out into the pavilion.

They walked the path.

They bent their head.

They tasted tart fruit on their tongue.

You know what happened next.

[rrcraft-and-lore]

The Monkey King - Sun Wukong who first appears in Chinese stories (Journey to the West) during the Ming Dynasty period 1368 to 1644 CE, well after the introduction of Buddhism to China in about 206-220 CE.

But, was he inspired by another Monkey hero/character of myth?

The prevailing and dominant theory among Asian scholars is ...yeah, likely.

That character, Hanuman, king of the monkeys (the monkey people -Vanaras- of Vedic myth!).

The story follows a Buddhist monk who is accompanied by Sun Wukong and others to travel west to India to obtain sacred Buddhist sutras. Many of their powers and personality traits are similar as well.

We know that Vedic god such as Indra have made their way as far as Japan to take root and be worshipped because of the spread of Buddhism.

As I've talked about before and is shown in texts such as the journey's of Ibn Battuta / Ibn Fadlan, storytelling was a weapon and powerful tool for idea transfer--propagation. Philosophy was huge in the old world - and places such as Nalanda - the first residential university in the world - invited scholars from all over such as Greeks from the west, and the Japanese. Buddhism became a vehicle for trading things such as: martial arts information, medicine, sciences, and of course, myths and stories.

However, as with stories, people usually altered/coopted elements and molded them to better suit their cultures and fancy. That's a thing as old as time. I've shared how the panchatantra stories and jatka tales are thought to be the inspiration for nearly 30-50 percent of all nursery rhymes, ballads, "fairy tales".

Anyways back to this theory - Chinese Indologist Professor Liu Anwu of Peking University has dedicated chapters to the comparisons (in one of his works) to further break down this theory focusing on consistent and or similar depictions of beats in Journey to the West that of Rama's story in Ramayama and the Buddhist sutras.

Even though today the story of Sun Wukong is a wholly Chinese story - it's important to note the power of oral storytelling and how it travelled evolved over thousands of years, and, just as important, the vehicles it used to do so. Not just storytellers and philosophers and travelers but religion! Philosophy!

This is a theme heavily commented on and shown in Tales of Tremaine, which is my love letter and sort of self PhD. in comparative storytelling, mythology, and story foundry through an Asiatic lens (hence a silk road analog) stretching along a similar route the silk road did from damn near as far as you can east (complete with the oceanic routes) to as west as old venezia, portugal, and spain.

Also note: this is the most popular theory atm, but the operative word is theory. Experts likely far better than you, Internet, so chill before you comment, are still debating this. I know last week some of you were doctors in sociopolitical relations, the music industry before that, and then you were leading virologists before that. Spare us simpler folks from your mighty genius just now and sit down.

The point here is the beauty of stories and their ability to travel and morph and comment on themes/points ideologies important to cultures while being entertaining and showing that humans like certain universal moments, beats, archetypes, tropes, and progressions in tales.

Now, is that because we've naturally been predisposed liking them, or the opposite in that everyone went, yo, i dig this, took it home and someone else went, this is cool but needs to be more US (insert culture) and retold it. And thus...timemachine noises speed up. Here we are today?

You might not know that about 35,000 Chinese words ( I said this instead of Mandarin because they don't just show up in one language) are derived from Sanskrit as well as Pali (a Middle Indo-Aryan Liturgical Language -- meaning language of sacredness/religious use, in this case connected to sacred Buddhist texts). It is important to make the distinction, because, Internet!

Sanskrit did not SHAPE the Chinese languages. They evolved on their own. This is just a commentary on how words/stories shaped over travel in this case strongly through the spread of Buddhism.

Religion was the mover.

Back from quick bathroom break. Going to add again - INSPIRED is the keyword here.

INSPIRED.

Sun Wukong is his own mythos/character. Influence doesn't nor can claim dominion over everything in a later tale. Sun Wukong has gone on himself to inspire legends and characters Outside of China - re: most famously and legendary?

Son Goku - who is openly a Sun Wukong inspired character.

...hell, tbh, he might be the most famous monkey inspired super powered character now. Dude makes soccer stadiums air his fights. @_@.

[dtriad]

summoning the soul 招魂

I keep coming across passages as I reread Good Morning! Workers of the Three Kingdoms that make me go :')!!! but also oof so many knives... which ngl is to be expected for a novel that's set in the Three Kingdoms era and is at least 66.66667% fighting (jk I have no idea what the % is, but no joke there are a LOT of battles). I do appreciate how the author refuses the temptation of OTT bloody descriptions for shock value, and tends to be more understated about the immediate consequences of war.

Context for this section I've translated below: it's set early on in the story, when Lu Xuanyu has been staying for a while in the city of Pingyuan under Liu Bei's governance—just a night watchman who's happened to make a name for herself as a phenomenally good swordsman after Stuff Happened.

Meanwhile, Cao Cao is nearing the end of his first invasion of Xuzhou (Xu Province) in 193 CE—infamously, he invaded two years in a row with such brutality that the Book of the Later Han talks of how the Si River stopped flowing due to all the bodies that clogged its course. Xuzhou is ruled by the old warlord Tao Qian, who's allied with Liu Bei's boss Tian Kai + bossboss Gongsun Zan, and they are worried about what Cao Cao's actions mean for the shifting alliances & balance of power in the region. Liu Bei is tasked with canvassing the situation, and he decides to send his subordinate (& childhood friend) Jian Yong as his emissary, accompanied by Lu Xuanyu for protection.

Ch. 99 | III. The Lightning Sword 列缺剑 (17):

They kept heading south, and as they traveled through the unaffected areas of Xuzhou, the news kept piling up. The good news was—after besieging Tancheng for more than ten days, Cao Cao had withdrawn because he’d run out of food; The bad news was—when the Qingzhou soldiers retreated back to Yanzhou, they took an utterly bizarre route. As everyone knew, Yanzhou was to the northwest of Xuzhou—if they wanted to withdraw, then they ought to go northwest. But Cao Mengde chose the road south; he took a detour to attack the cities of Qulü, Suiling, and Xiaqiu, and emerged victorious all along the way. Just as some were starting to suspect he was going down south to fight Yuan Shu in Huainan, Cao Cao finally returned to Yanzhou. As a result, she could finally test those conjectures she had idly discussed with the Black Blade in Pingyuan. —In the end, what kind of war had this been? —And what kind of person had started this war?

When they passed by Xiaqiu, the Qingzhou soldiers had already retreated, so people began to return one by one. Most of them had scattered during their flight from calamity, and hurried back to their homeland when they heard the fighting was over. But it seemed that there was nothing left of the city of Xiaqiu. What was missing ranged from the roof beams, window lattices, and door panels, to the clay pots, bamboo baskets, and dry firewood—and one needn’t even mention the gold and silk, or the livestock and foodstuff. However, it wasn’t quite accurate to put it that way, because the Qingzhou soldiers had left countless corpses in the city. Even before she entered the city on horseback, she heard the heart-wrenching cries, and then her eyes were filled with the sight of blood. The corpses had died in many different ways. Some had died easily, some had died painfully, but not a single one of them was clothed; whether man or woman, they were all hanging stark naked throughout the houses, or were piled up by the side of the road. So those who returned, one by one, began to search through the blood-bathed mountains of corpses, searching for their fathers and mothers, siblings and lovers, sons and daughters. They were as dazed as wandering ghosts, with tears flowing like blood from their eyes. In each and every corner of this small city, they turned over each and every desecrated corpse—did it bear the face of someone familiar, did it bear a birthmark that they remembered? If not, then they would go on searching through this ghost town, packed full of dead souls. And if they found that someone, then the stone in their heart could settle at last; and they could take off their clothes to shroud the body of their beloved, who would never speak or smile at them again; and they could drag them out, or carry them out in their arms or on their backs, and search beyond the city walls for a spot in the wasteland. And there they could bury them.

Such a city no longer distinguished between day and night. No soldiers were there to guard the city, and no city officials were there to enforce the law; naturally, no watchmen were there to call out the time, in a city so unsuitable for staying. Thus, their travel party slept in the open outside the city, and were able to see many people going in and out nonstop, all day and all night, moving and burying the bodies of their loved ones. Even though no one could find any coffin boards now, those who had survived still tried their hardest with all their heart, so Lu Xuanyu saw all kinds of funerals when she crossed the open land. Some people molded clay dolls, simple and crude in make with their features blurred, and yet they were treasured and valued—so Jian Yong told her: that is the custom of Chu, where they want to send servants to the dead, and it was once the most common of customs back when our great Han’s Gaozu rose up in arms in Pei County; Some people left their hair disheveled, held a flag aloft, and called out the names of their loved ones—so Jian Yong told her: those are Daoist believers, shouting names to gather them together, for they want to call the souls of their dearly departed back from the vast wilderness at night, and send them up to the heavens where the gods yet dwell; Some people tore at their clothes and wailed by the roadside, smashed the clay jars in their hands, and continued beating away on iron pots—so Jian Yong told her: these are people from Wu, and I heard that they believe ghosts are conscious and can do harm, so they want to scare off the ghosts, and will do so even if it’s their own family; And then there were some people who stayed silent, and heaped rocks on top of yellow paper filled with writing—so Jian Yong told her: I didn’t expect there to still be followers of the Way of Taiping; these people believe in ghost soldiers, and have to write down all the merits and demerits of a person’s life on yellow paper, for only after that can they see off the dead soul to the underworld. “Ah, how strange!” This scholar, who in normal times would always be chatting and laughing, kept gazing at the people out in the wilderness. “On ordinary days, if these people were to run into each other, I’m afraid they’d already be fighting. But look at them—it’s as if they can’t see each other.” She had been listening for a while, and suddenly asked, “Sir, Xiaqiu isn’t a city with any fame, so why would so many people come here from different places?” Jian Yong fell silent for a moment, then slowly said, “They were refugees from Luoyang and Guanzhong. They heard tell of Tao-gongzu’s benevolence, so they came a long way here to join him.”   His voice echoed in her ears, and seemed to echo too in the wilderness.  “They escaped from Dong Zhuo, and they escaped from Li Jue and Guo Si, but they couldn’t escape from this.” At the end of a funeral—and it didn’t seem to matter where the person was from—they would take out a piece of clothing and stand on this earth filled with graves, facing north and crying out to their loved one. That clothing was known as “belly clothing,” and it originally should’ve been clothing once worn by the deceased; but those who were dead practically had no clothes left, so the living had no choice but to take out their own, and hope that so long as their loved one had touched it, so long as the breath of their loved one had stained it, they could summon the soul of the dead—who would follow this familiar and intimate scent, and return to their side. “Mama—come back!” “Papa—come back!” “Darling—come back! Come back!”

On a night like this, there was no way for anyone to sleep in peace. She walked around outside her tent, but she didn’t feel lonely at all. For there were still people in the wilderness, who sat in front of the graves all night, or went on bustling about and lighting torches in search of hope inside the city. They wouldn’t feel lonely either, because they were together with the people they loved. It would be light soon; those souls hidden in the darkness could no longer be held back from leaving, for they were about to go on a long journey. Stepping on long grass and slurried mud, she walked slowly along the dirt road that Cao Cao’s soldiers had taken in their retreat. There were also corpses on the wayside, one after another piled on top. As the color of the sky brightened, she suddenly came to a stop. There were two bodies in the grass by the side of the road, of small stature; one looked to be a boy, twelve or thirteen years old, and the other was a little girl around ten years old. A bloody hole was exposed in the boy’s back, from a very deep stab; not only had it pierced straight through him, but it had also pierced through the girl underneath him, whom he had shielded with his body. But even so, that boy had tried in vain with all his strength to protect the girl in his arms… It had all been useless. She’s probably his little sister, she thought. Just like that, she stood there beside the two corpses, staring. It wasn’t until the Black Blade made a puzzled sound that she suddenly asked a question. [You know how San-lang died, right?] The Black Blade was silent for a moment. [Indeed, he died much like this.] “Young man, what are you looking at?” Lu Xuanyu was startled by this unexpected voice, and raised her head to see a woman of about forty standing next to her, smiling broadly as she gazed at her. She wasn’t properly dressed, her whole face was stained with mud and blood, and yet she smiled so happily. “Don’t look at them,” she said. “This is a good thing—they’ve all gone to enjoy a blessed life, they’ve all gone! My son has gone too. The void has shattered to pieces, and all of creation has flown like ash—they’ve all gone to a better place! Only those like you and I have been left behind to suffer here.” As she kept talking, she proudly raised her head, her expression very much like Fan-shi’s. So Lu Xuanyu couldn’t help but respond to her. “Your child, where did he go?” The woman’s loving and joyful eyes looked up at the sky, filled with the greatest pride and expectation that a mother could have, so she looked up as well. Dawn was breaking, and a faint light glimmered through the clouds.

I really, really like the part that's focused on the different funeral customs. ;__; 招魂 is the title of the chapter.

Fan-shi and her son San-lang were Lu Xuanyu's neighbors in Luoyang, and later Chang'an (where they took in a refugee girl, A-Huan). During the Battle of Chang'an in 192 CE, they were among the many who weren't able to escape & survive.

[wildemaven]

Saturdays with Javier: Honeymoon

Pairing: Javier Pena x F!Reader

WC: 1483

Warnings: T; Mentions of food and drinks; otherwise pure fluff!

A/N: I have missed these two so much!! Wrote this for this week's @wildemaven-prompts theme. Felt like the perfect setting for a getaway for the two of them. Like always, not beta'd so sorry for any mistakes.

Series Masterlist / Main / Honeymoon Playlist

The stretch from home to your destination was anything but quick. 

Miles. 

And miles. 

And then some. 

4 state lines. 

And hours upon hours of driving time. 

27 hours to be exact, that’s what Javier had clocked it at when planning the route west. He insisted he could make it in one shot, but you managed to convince him to stop and rest along the way. 

It was small dinky motels with creaky beds and musty bathrooms, but you found them charming in their own way— Javier wasn’t convinced by your enthusiasm for them. . 

Roadside diners, who’s specials were a hearty plate of steak, eggs and burnt black coffee, provided the perfect spot to refuel yourself until the next stop. 

Desert plains, snow capped mountains and roadways weaving across vast stretches of land. 

*

Javier had asked you not long after the wedding where you had wanted to go for a honeymoon, but you had insisted you didn’t need one, you were happy with just a simple weekend together at home. 

While cleaning up from dinner one evening, Javier had over heard you and Chucho talking about places you wanted to visit— bucket list destinations. 

You mentioned it had been a dream of yours from very young to travel up the coast of California to see the Pacific, redwoods and camp out in the mountains under the stars. 

He tucked this information away and planned for weeks to bring this dream of yours to life. 

It was presented in the form of an old worn road map wrapped in a delicate silk ribbon, sitting on your kitchen table with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers. 

“What’s this?” You ask Javier, who’s propped up agains the kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest, watching the confusion dance across your face. 

He shrugs as if oblivious, but you’ve known this man long enough to know he’s the worst liar. 

Untying the bow and carefully unfolding the tattered paper to unveil a map of the US. In red ink, a squiggled line drawn from Texas to California— a scribbled circle drawn around the central area of California’s coast. 

Big Sur. 

“Javi… what is this?”

Pushing off the counter he makes his way to you. His chest against your back, winding his arms around your front as he rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to go anywhere.” A brief kiss placed to the crook where your shoulder meets your neck. “But I over heard you and Pop talking, you mentioned this being a place you’ve always wanted to visit. So, we’re going to pack up the car—“ Another kiss to your shoulder. “And go for a little road trip.”

You can’t help the tears that depart from your now watery eyes, gently dripping onto the faded map— the red ink now a broken line of blurry smudges. 

“Javi—“ A small sob catches in your throat. “This is too much.”

“No. Actually, it’s not enough. And it’s already planned. We leave tomorrow.” He turns you to him, brushing the tears away, his eyes pouring out love and affection into yours. “Go pack and then we’ll eat dinner.” 

The kiss tender, but evoking a feeling of warmth and security. You felt so adored by this man and loved doing life with him. 

*

The faint crinkling of a bag pulls you from the nap you hadn’t realized you needed. A yawn and brief stretch to work out the soreness that has settled within your stiff muscles, grateful tonight for a bed and cozy clothes. 

Another round of crinkling has you turning to your left, Javier knuckles deep into a half eaten bag of trail mix— sans the m&ms you’d already picked out hours ago. 

His eyes steady on the road, left hand gripping the wheel as he drives you north up Highway 1. 

A glimmer of light streaks across the dashboard, the rays from the setting Sun catching on his gold band that he wears on his ring finger. A sight that you’re not sure you’ll ever get use too, but welcome the memories it represents and look forward to the ones yet to be made. 

“How long was I out for?” Still a little groggy with sleep. 

“‘Bout 2 hours. Your neck has to be hurting the way you were all curled up.”

“Yeah. Feels a little stiff now.” You say as you rub at your neck. He reaches out to you, his thumb pressing into the tender spot working out the pain just enough to feel some relief. “Mmm, that feels nice.”

“I’ll have to give you a better one once we get settled in. Should be there shortly.”

His eyes back on the road, laser focused gaze shielded behind his amber aviators as he intertwines his fingers with yours, placing a kiss to the top of your hand. The breeze from his open window sweeps through the cab disrupting his thick locks now flowing about freely, the air is salty and crisp as it fans across your face. The pink and orange hues grab your attention, the painted sky kissing the ocean as the sun begins slowly sinking into the horizon. It’s then Javier who steals your breath as hums to the music streaming through the speakers, the slight bob of his head and tap of his fingers as the miles roll on.

*

It’s nearly dark when you’ve both settled into the “room”, which was essentially a glorified tent. Nestled off the main highway and surrounded by the tallest trees you had ever encountered. The air was wet as the coastal breeze rolled through the mountains. 

You’d made sure to pack as many layers as possible knowing the weather would be a far cry from the warm dry conditions Texas holds this time of year. 

The crackling of the smoldering fire, chirps of the singing crickets and Javier’s breathy snores against your neck are the last things you hear as you fall into a restful sleep. 

*

Morning comes sooner than anticipated, but your eagerness to explore has you feeling alive and ready for the day. 

Turning you discover Javier is no longer next to you, but the clanking outside the tent tells you he’s already moving about, likely do to his rigid morning routine of coffee and breakfast before he can properly function.

The picnic table is already brimming with a feast of breakfast foods— bacon, eggs, pancakes, sausage links and sliced bread from the little bakery you’d stopped at for lunch yesterday. Warm coffee awaited you in a mug as you began to fill your plate with the delicious food Javier had prepared. 

“What do you want to do today?” His voices slightly muffled as he wipes the crumbs from the hairs of his mustache. 

“Anything. Maybe just drive a bit and see what we find. I want to grab some pictures so we can share with Pop.”

“There was a few pull-outs along the way we can check out. See if there’s any trails to explore.”

The man sitting across from you, so relaxed and happy, is your favorite sight. As you both sit here surrounded by such a beautiful setting, the tranquil atmosphere and beauty of the scenery, you can’t help the overwhelming amount of joy you have for this life bestowed on you. 

*

The coast line is socked in with a thick layer of fog as Javier pulls the car off the road to a look out point. The crashing water below just barely visible, the sound of each wave hitting the rocks before it recedes back out, a mesmerizing sight in itself. Their misty sprays floating up and around, making you grateful for the extra warm jacket Javier packed the car. 

The ocean is the perfect backdrop for your shared lunch, sandwiches and chips were an easy option for adventuring.

The fog finally burning off midday to reveal the luminous blue water, rippling waves as far as you could see. 

*

As the day came to a closure, bodies fatigued but hearts satisfied, you find yourselves wrapped up in each other. A thick blanket and newly lit fire add to the overall mood of the night. Stars making their appearance known as you gaze up through the tree tops. 

It’s whispers of excitement for your future together and for the love you both share always, as well as with in this moment. 

It’s intimacy you experience within the confines of your tent, brought on by your adoration and commitment to each other, pleasure being pulled from the depths of your bodies with fervor over and over again with soft precision.

It’s the thought this trip will become a keepsake of imagery that will forever be tucked away in your mind. Rolls of film once developed, will become the only tangible means to recall the road trip you fell in love with Javier all over again. 

[rarepears]

Mobei Jun, Luo Binghe, and Shang Qinghua walk into a town...

Okay so Su Xiyan escaped Huan Hua, pregnant and heavily poisoned... she didn't get far before she gave birth to her son, but she was close enough to the Luo river.

Young Mobei Jun was abandoned by his uncle near Huan Hua territory... he was probably left in some more crowded human settlement (aka a town or city) under the excuse of "oops I lost my nephew! It was too crowded and his hand slipped from mine!"

Anyways, what's not to say that Mobei Jun didn't run away from the main town into a more quiet location with fewer humans, hoping to escape detection (and the pursuing Huan Hua cultivators)... and runs into a young 5 year old Luo Binghe?

Naturally that protagonist halo ensures young Luo Binghe's safety and Mobei Jun ends up having Friendly Feelings for this adorable (naive and stupid) human child. (Luo Binghe in turn gets a LOT of gold that makes his mama drop all her clean washing onto the dirt path, making it all dirty again! Silly mama!)

Ah! There's so many possible routes to go from here!

A. Mobei Jun hangs out at Luo Binghe's little thatch house for a week, recovering from his wounds and Shang Qinghua's little mission goes without a hitch. Airplane never ends up becoming Mobei Jun's spy because he never gets the chance to patch up an injured ice demon.

(Shang Qinghua is actually kind of sort of very disappointed about that as much as he is happy that he's not going to get slapped around for the next couple decades)

B. Shang Qinghua and his motley crew of annoying ass An Ding canon fodders run into an injured ice demon! Who's accompanied by... a 5 year old peasant boy and washerwoman? But also the ice demon is under disguise - aka Luo Binghe's mama dressed up Mobei Jun in her employee's daughter's fancy silks along with a fancy hat and veil to hide the demonic features - and the two groups pass by each other none the wiser of what could have happened.

C. Shang Qinghua runs into Mobei Jun! He immediately swears his life into service of the little demon princeling, but also ends up serving the princelings.... little friend? follower? servant? Airplane is very confused what to call this little itty bitty version of the protagonist who's tagging along the ice demon like some hanger-on.

They weren't even in a brother relationship! More like an idol (Mobei Jun) and his fan (Luo Binghe with his big worshipping eyes looking up in awe.)

[More in #mobei jun meets a young luo binghe and his washerwoman mother au]