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sleepynoons · 7 days ago

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Under the Same Sky

Mydeimos and you are husband and wife. In ancient China, where the heavens and earth exist in the same dimension, your husband slays beasts and demons to protect the Emperor and the Holy Nation. You yourself are closely related to divinity, though it is a relationship you wish to abandon, because the heavenly forces have only wished the worst upon you. And it seems nothing has changed, when the divine wants to destroy your and Mydei's relationship.

mydei x afab!f!reader, chinese mythology!au, nsfw

word count: ~17,400

cw: angst/slight comfort, minor character death, religious/spiritual imagery/themes/depictions, graphic descriptions of violence/blood/death, unprotected sex, marking kink, a singular instance of a blood kink, undertones of codependency, unintended phainon slander (truly just for the plot)

notes: to my beloved beta, @staraxiaa, i love you. truly. you have such a beautiful mind and an unmatched cadence to your words. thank you for all that you do for me, and this piece would not have come out of the vault without your encouragement and advice.

to readers, would soo appreciate reblogs, comments, and tags on this piece! i always put a bit of my soul in my writing, but truly, as a chinese person myself, this fic is especially special in my heart. i may post an author's note (update: you can find my thoughts here), but for now, i hope you are able to walk away from this piece knowing a bit about my heritage, culture, and mythology, though there may be several historical inaccuracies LOL

EVERYONE IN the village knows Mydeimos loves you and you love Mydeimos. In particular, the elders, those who often sit under the weeping willows at noon and fan themselves with their cheap linen imitations of the gongshan, laugh amongst themselves about the blush that had blossomed on Mydeimos’ face with your first appearance and has never left since, until the faint outlines of their grandchildren appear on the border between the horizon and the flat earth. Because who could believe that their village chief, a figure of authority and demand – though a son he will forever be remembered as in the villagers’ eyes and memories – would ever look so pathetically adorable. But at this point, it is not a question anymore, moreso a teasing remark the people make in the presence of their adored chief.

And you, a girl of an unknown origin, from another collective li and li away, have also become a beloved member of this village. Even if you were not Mydeimos’ wife, your kindly manner, speaking always with a warming wisp of a smile, and the gentle curve of your upturned palm have won over the hearts of the villagers here.

It is clear to everyone that, by the decree of the heavenly gods above and their kindred spirits down on this earth in the forms of the water, leaves, wind, and destiny, that you and Mydeimos are for each other, to always be intertwined and inseparable in this vast, vast universe.

–

My love.

Mydei – just Mydei in your presence – twitches in his sleep, the magnetic pull of your voice coming from somewhere between the depths of his half-conscious, sleepy haze and the echoes from the four sun-stricken brick walls of your shared bedroom. You tantalize him already, when he has so much to do, so much to worry, so much to protect. After all, being one of the Emperor’s generals is no casual title, and one can tell because all he can boast about is the long hours of never-ending work and the deplorably large number of men he had to send to the infirmary the other day for they all lacked strength comparable to his. Indeed, he has much to be concerned about, yet in the spare moments of tranquility he is granted in the early morning, he allows himself to bask in both the warmth from the dawn sunlight that streams through the bamboo folding screens and radiates from your lulling tone.

Mydei.

He blinks awake, your silhouette discerned with more clarity with each closing and opening. You are holding the blanket up to your chest with one arm, while your other reaches over to stroke his hair, straightening out strands that have splayed themselves across his forehead, intermingling with the lengths of his eyelashes and paralleling the cut of his jawline.

You will be late.

Displeased at your reminder, he grunts and leans into your palm, the shape of it meant to caress and cradle his cheek. You do not make any noticeable reaction, except for the slight lifts at the corners of your lips. And you let him assume control of your hand, relinquish your time as well, so that you can connect with him before he sets off for another long day at work. Though work is never just work for someone as noble as Mydei, as even the trek to the Palace is fraught with danger, where assassins and mercenaries can be prowling in the shadows, waiting for the right timing to strike, attack, kill your lover, the chief of a village a slight ways away from the Capital, a general to the Emperor and this Holy Nation.

Mydei then cups one of his hands over yours, and sits up with your fingers interlaced. With a quick glance, he is sated and actually smirks at the marks that bruise, bloom, and flourish across the delicate skin of your shoulders and neck. He leans over to kiss a spot that is undoubtedly the most stubborn of them all, the last that will fade from remembrance.

I know. I am on my way now.

And, without another word, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up to stride over to the washroom. You watch from your position, eyes lingering over the hardened and muscled build of his legs, the jagged scars that etch themselves into the broad scope of his back and sides, and the tanned lines that have begun to form on his arms, a sign that the height of spring has arrived. You wait until he has left the room to release a pleased hum before you, too, stretch and prepare yourself for your day.

In the courtyard, it is more than obvious that spring has fully encompassed the Holy Nation. The magnolia buds are green, hurried and eager in their pursuit for growth, and the scent of damp soil has begun to dissipate from the lack of overnight snow and frost. A young female servant, a recent addition to your handful of helpers, speaks in rapid, excited breaths as she serves you powdered cakes in bite-sized pieces and pours oolong tea into a brown porcelain cup, reciting news about the Emperor’s several princes she had overheard when she went to the market earlier today. You cannot help but chuckle as the servant takes a seat beside you, her arms propped up on the table with her face resting on her fist, humming as any young girl in love would. It just so happens that your head maid comes over at this moment and scolds the younger one.

Get up! Where are your manners? Apologize!

You simply wave them both off and ask the young servant to continue her relay. After all, she is not of age yet, so she can only daydream, and who are you to not indulge in such whimsies. She tells you of the second youngest prince, one of three in her generation, and she fantasizes of colliding into him in the streets as he makes an escape from the Capital. It is no surprise that the prince, along with all nine of his royal brothers, are mischievous, something that many Daoist priestesses have foretold as they ventured in and out of the Palace, prophecies that trace back even before the births of many of the Emperor’s sons. Yet the young servant’s fantasies are far too exaggerated and dependent on coincidence to ever materialize, so after a while, you begin to ask her other questions.

How are this season’s harvests? Are there murmurings of strife and conflict along the Northern border? Are the rabbits back?

She responds accordingly: seasonal goods, such as green peas and plums, seem to be more expensive and sparse than last year; no outbreaks so far, and people are anticipating a peaceful year ahead; the rabbits have begun to leave their burrows! In fact, regarding that last point, the servant urges you to finish your tea faster so you can visit the babies, and despite the exasperated protests from your head lady-in-waiting, you gulp the last dregs of your drink, bits of loose tea leaves included, before gathering your dress into your fists and rushing out of the pavilion.

Rabbits are cautious creatures. They are aware of their disadvantages and their being on the bottom of the food chain. And while this village that you have become a part of and that Mydei grew up in has long taken root in this region of the Holy Nation, the local flora and fauna have yet to fully adapt to the presence and caprices of humans. Where you are from, it is quite the opposite, in that the people of your origin have learned to assimilate with this earth, rather than the other way around. Where you are from, the rabbits are not afraid to come out of their burrows and shallow mounds to peer curiously – fearlessly – at their human neighbors.

As you and the young servant approach a lush corner of the courtyard, your steps decrease in stride and bumbling excitement. Instead, the two of you tread with silent passes, almost as if you were rabbits yourselves. And when the two of you make it to the edge of the walkway, you stand still and hold your breaths, waiting earnestly for even the most fleeting of a glimpse of the animals.

Since your youth, you have had a talent for disappearing, in the most neutral sense possible. With ease that a person of ego cannot bear to imagine or replicate, you are capable of shedding off all and any attachments you have to your person and melding into the sways of the wind, the humming of the bees, the thrums of the soil beneath your feet. You showed this ability of yours to Mydei before, albeit unintentionally. It was happenstance, something you had done out of habit when he had taken you out for a stroll along a manmade pond near the east end of the Capital and you were trying to feed a pair of restless magpies. You were only shaken out of your illusory state from the grounding pressure of his hand against your shoulder blade.

With an ability like that, you could easily conceal yourself and become an assassin.

You shrugged in response because, unlike him, there is no obligation for you to pursue the art or administration of death, and you figure you will never have to either.

This is all to say that, had it not been for the chirp of excitement from your lady-in-waiting, the rabbits would have approached you out of sheer intrigue. And as quickly as they shuffled out of their home, their grey and white whiskers and fluff ruffling in the breeze, their beady eyes take note of you and your servant before they recede back to safety. Your lady-in-waiting sighs with palpable adoration and lovesickness, and you promise her that there will be another chance tomorrow.

For the rest of the morning, you eat a quick breakfast under a pagoda, admiring the jasmine blossoms that flourish around the circumference, before making way to your fitting. Fittings only occur when special occasions are imminent, and with a banquet at the Palace in celebration of the fourth prince’s birthday occurring in two weeks, your other ladies-in-waiting have brought back several robes from the market for you to try on, no doubt on Mydei’s orders. There is a generous collection of blush, cream, and sunshine brocade and linen that await you, and as you dress and undress, tie and untie, spin and spin, it is unanimously agreed upon by all of your attendants that nothing will be returned. There is also a tray that holds various accessories, most notably a tasteful amalgamation of embroidered fans and gold-accented jinbu, and those are all kept as well. Of course, upon realizing that all of these valuables are yours and yours only, you pass on a message to one of Mydei’s servants to also visit the market with expectations of purchasing new cords for your husband’s hair, as well as a replacement for his worn yudai.

Then, it is lunch, but you tend to spend this time with the other villagers. With a parasol in one hand and a basket of tangerines and dried dates in the other, you head to the edge of the village, accompanied by two guards for formality’s sake. At the perimeter, where brick walls intercept a wide, trodden path, there are several benches and tables so that both residents and travelers alike can rest. When you first arrived, you, too, sat down here, gulping down a flask of water as you observed the hustle and bustle – not as busy as the Capital, but festive enough to indicate decent business and progress.

The elders and a few mothers already present greet you with dips of their chin. Usually, citizens are to greet those of nobility or high-ranking government positions with strict curtsies and bows, and while Mydei insists on the custom in speech, he does not uphold this rule quite as stringently. The reason for your visits are twofold: to know your people and to gather information. Though you have not yet born descendants of your and Mydei’s own, you have come to realize that children have sharp ears and loose mouths, fervent in their interminable search for entertainment and delight. The village is close enough for children to pursue education in the Capital if their parents so wished, so until many of them return, you pass your time underneath the arching path of the sun exchanging pleasantries and discussing matters.

By the time the little ones return, the sun is bathed in orange gold, half-concealed by the mountains you had once traversed, and there are but a few of the fruits remaining, just enough to quench their parched throats. As children do, they clamor to their respective guardians, complaining about the heat and how they are so sweaty and tired that there is no conceivable way they can continue to study later tonight. They also recognize you, and with a lightheartedness that more often occurs between friends of the same generation, they whine for your treats. You laugh as you hand the last pieces out, as you would when feeding cabbage bits to rabbits.

Upon your return home, the moon already having replaced the sun as the night’s guardian, you dismiss your guards, so you can bathe while the rest of the household eats. You much prefer solitude when you are in a vulnerable state, and your ladies-in-waiting are no exception to this preference, even if they are no stranger to a woman’s body. Sat on a stool, you strip yourself, letting all the layers collapse in a disheveled pile, and remove any pins and beaded strings from your hair. By now, your servants have become familiar with your ways, so there is already steaming water in the bronze bathtub, so you directly step in and submerge yourself up until your neck.

The hot water is not very pleasant against your warm skin, but you stay regardless, as spring evenings can still be unforgiving and biting. You watch as the water sloshes against the solid walls of the tub, causing the steam to waver before resuming its vertical ascendance, and do nothing even when a few splashes escape and drip down the exterior. After all, this time is allotted for you to think, nothing more. Your thoughts are preoccupied with declining trade with farmers outside of the Capital, many citing long-lasting droughts and fires as primary culprits, and there have been a sharp incline of those suffering from heat strokes and asthma. Some have even mentioned hallucinations of more than a single sun in the sky, and while you are not one to be affected by superstitious or mythical stories, you do find it odd that there have been multiple accounts of such a phenomenon from various distinct folks. These are pieces of information you must report to Mydei, though it is too early to draw any actionable conclusions.

You arise from your bath half an hour later, when the water has simmered down to a lukewarm. You dry yourself, adorn a simple beige gown with a matching robe over it, and make your way to the kitchen. By the moon’s position, if all goes smoothly, your husband should return in about two hours, more than enough for you to prepare his dinner.

Although you are not obligated to cook, you have sensed Mydei’s hesitation when it comes to consuming food that is prepared by those he is unfamiliar with. He trusts you and the villagers, but many of your household’s servants are from the Capital or elsewhere. Therefore, for both his sanity and safety, you have taken on the responsibility to provide him meals so that he may eat in peace at home. Besides, it is also an opportunity for the two of you to simply be together.

Just as you have set the last plate onto the dining table, Mydei returns, lamellar plates thunking and chain mail jostling with every heavy step he takes. It is a heaviness that resounds in your heart, for it is a reflection of his fatigue and, more importantly, the weight of the responsibilities he bears.

He does not come to greet you, not yet. He does not like appearing in front of you with his armor still on. He wants to avoid bringing in the stench of blood and grief into this abode he shares with you – does not want to taint you, his person of comfort and solace, with the violence you have no desire to take part in. Though, try as he might, deep down he knows it is to no avail, as his hands, the same ones he uses to touch and feel you, are already stained with death.

In the small shed, surprisingly compact and spare for a master of many weapons, he shrugs everything off with laborious groans. As each weighted iron slab and scratchy sheet of chain mail drops to the ground, Mydei lavishes in the slow regain of freedom in his movement. Lastly, he pulls off his helmet, and with a quick rub of his sleeve against a permanent smudge, he sets it on top of a drawer that contains duplicates of his uniform, first aid, and short daggers. He does not linger, and instead, swivels around to head to where you are.

When Mydei rounds the corner to stand in front of the kitchen entrance, double doors swung wide open, he cannot help but pause in his tracks, just a few paces away from joining you at the table in the center of the room. You peer at him from your seat, your chin resting in a divot formed by your palms, and also observe him, his face shrouded in shadows.

It is not so much a staring contest as it is a reverent yearning for one another. For no reason at all, it seems the two of you have a habit of practicing restraint – hesitation – before allowing yourselves to indulge in each other.

Come sit beside me.

I will. Let me admire you first.

And so you wait.

From Mydei’s perspective, you are the most beautiful at this time of the night. It is not to say that you are not in the morning, when you are still slumbering beside him with your hands splayed across his bare chest, or when you are pinned underneath him, a sinful image of you in your most disheveled state – his stained robe splayed out underneath your figure, your lungs heaving with pitched whines, your knees trembling with indecision as you fail to choose between spreading yourself open so that he can enter deeper or closing, and thereby restricting his movement, because the pleasure is unbearable. You are always his most precious, but he believes you are at your best when you are working towards an objective. And since your marriage, you have honored his same priority in protecting his people, and he will forever admire this determination of yours.

Truthfully, he never required such a sense of responsibility in his wife. In fact, before he met you, he had never imagined shouldering this duty with anyone else, let alone a stranger from somewhere far beyond. But you are no longer a stranger, and now, during your shared dinners, you are able to speak of this place as if you grew up here, alongside him and all the other villagers. You speak with incredible depth and acute intuition, and fortified by the precision and clarity in your words, he cannot help but think that, despite your personal aversions towards leadership and confrontation, you deserve to stand beside him in the ranks.

The oil lamps and candles on the dining table brighten your face with a gentle golden glow. He can see the flames’ flickering in your eyes, and behind you, he can hear the crackle of smoldering wood and charcoal. He walks over and takes a seat beside you, noticing the faint traces of fire and herbs that linger in your hair and at your shoulders. Pressing the side of his thigh against yours, he picks up his chopsticks and begins to eat, a gesture for you to initiate the conversation.

There is noticeable delay. We can no longer ignore the growing connection between the slowdown of trade with the recurring delusions of multiple suns in the sky.

Do you think it could be divine punishment?

If we had incurred the wrath of Tian, we would have long suffered, and the Emperor would have justified the recent happenings. Our deities have no interest or patience for prolonged torture.

We will need to wait then. We need to know more, or else we will be searching in vain.

No.

You set down your bowl and look straight ahead, peering outside at the courtyard – or rather, at a point somewhere beyond the walls of the courtyard. Mydei can feel your presence wax and wane, expand and recede, until it settles down into a light thrum, akin to the tranquil qi of lotus petals and mossy creeks. He can still see you, without a doubt, but he knows that if he had not been in this room with you right now, he would have never been able to find you here without incredible effort.

It is magical, truly, how you can quiet your presence. In his many years of training and fighting, he has met only a handful of incredible soldiers who can do the same. He was only able to gain this ability himself after maturing as a person and facing the near-death consequences of overwhelming, unbound bloodlust in the midst of combat. That is not to claim that you did not learn in the same ways, but he cannot confirm nor deny because, for better or worse, you never speak of the past. Otherwise, outside of the army, he only knows of the high priests and priestesses that can also adopt a kind of otherworldly aura during their rituals and prayers.

He chews slowly, more preoccupied with observing your profile. Your features are unperturbed, essentially blank, and there is an unfocused fog in your eyes, sharply distinct from the ambition burning within your irises at the beginning of dinner. You shiver, probably to your own ignorance, and he places his things down so he can take off his robe and wrap your shoulders with it. To his surprise, and contentment, you instinctively lean over to rest your shoulder against his without disrupting your thoughts. Just as you wait for him, he waits for you.

By the time the shortest of the three candles, once a sixth of its original length, is about to extinguish, you come to, and the light in your eyes returns as well.

Innate divinity – not to be conflated with the ability to call forth divine powers or forces – is only granted to a few select individuals. More than likely, there will be no need to search the common folk.

Let us begin at the Palace.

Will the Emperor take to this idea?

Perhaps he already has conjectures of his own. I shall request an audience.

Divinity is an intricate, mysterious subject. Deeply embedded in the belief systems and cultural underpinnings of this Holy Nation, most people are naturally mesmerized and fearful of Tian’s deities and their abilities. Even those who are born with divine abilities, namely the Emperor and a select few of his children, and those who can invoke divinity through sacred objects and incantations, such as priests, priestesses, and monks, advise all to be cautious of incurring heavenly wrath.

When you first heard of the hallucinations, you thought it to be the aftershocks of severe heatstroke. Then, when many more farmers and traders began to verify the sighting of various suns, it became clear that the divine was involved because, when individuals who have no capacity for divinity are exposed to these mystical forces, their minds and behaviors can be continuously affected. That must mean they must have come in contact with a mythic beast or creature.

The deities are known for having many children and several other distant brethren, some of which exist on the earth, roaming around as Buddhist guardians, such as the regal Dapengs, or man-eating snake monsters, the most infamous being the nine-headed Jiuying that terrorized seafarers for decades until Mydei slayed it. In this case, an immediate possibility was the return of the boar demon Feng Xi who often wreaked havoc upon farmlands. Feng Xi was also subdued by your husband a few years ago, but it would be no surprise if it were to appear again, typical of the inexplicable nature of divine beasts. But upon investigations of the ruined farmlands by their respective prefectural ministers, there were no signs of terrifying waste or death, only the usual symptoms of a long-lasting drought and ashy remains from fires caused by unrelenting dry winds. With further consideration, you also know that it is impossible, from personal observations and experiences, to invoke a heavenly force powerful – brutal – enough to cause a disaster of this magnitude. In other words, by process of elimination, the problem has to either be the direct doing of a human blessed with divinity or, even worse, a creature or deity from Tian themselves.

You can only hope it is not the latter.

Your concern must be showing on your face, as Mydei leans over to rub his thumb firmly against the apple of your cheek.

No more. Come back to me.

You nod, knowing when to be obedient. When Mydei speaks to you in this tone, sympathetic yet earnest, you know he is looking out for you, grounding you before you can fully lose yourself. While you have impressive mental strength and foresight, you lack an attachment to the present, and without supervision, there is a very real risk of you drifting far, far away, disappearing as you once did when you were young.

Your husband takes you by the hand and guides you back to your shared bedroom. The brief walk is silent, save for your footsteps and the occasional greeting from a guard. The two of you part momentarily when you enter the chamber, as Mydei heads to the side to open the window screens to allow streams of moonlight into the room, while you take your seat on the center of the bed. It is not cold even as a slight breeze filters into the room, for his robe still shields your back and shoulders. However, you elect to take it off, and Mydei watches you strip, not just his clothing but also your layers underneath, from where he is standing.

The moon always manages to cast a romantic light on all that it befalls, and through the midst of your moans, his pants, and the joining of your bodies, over and over and over again, it generously extends its rays so that the two of you are able to have a clear view of each other in your otherwise pitch black room. Surprisingly, there is also a warmth to the moonlight, a soothing and comforting quality to it, that makes you feel as if time is passing slower than it actually is. In this prolonged moment, you can pinpoint every single movement and sensation between you and Mydei – his steeled grip around the base of your neck as he presses you tightly against his chest, the curling of your toes with every deep thrust, the crescendo of his heartbeat against yours. In this room, there is only you and him, isolated and ignorant to the rest of the world – the universe, even –, and defying all rules of space and physics, you solely focus on extending the present for as long as you can, while Mydei struggles to convey to you just how deeply obsessed and enamored he is with you. No one can intervene in this proud, unabashed act of intimacy, and if either you or Mydei dared, both of you would even describe your shared bond as sacred. And, especially for you, you know to not use that word so carelessly.

And when Mydei lays you down to peel off your legs and instead press them down, as close to your ears as possible, he goes impossibly harder and deeper. In this space, there are only the two of you, though you are only seeing him, and he is only seeing you. There are no thoughts or even carnal desires, just a fundamental appreciation and unconditional loving for the other. You whimper – my love – as he presses his sweat-stricken forehead against yours, and he responds with a passionate roll of his hips and a scathing bite that draws blood at your left shoulder. With your arms wrapped around his head, you keep him there and leave him with no choice but to continue making love to you until you unravel at your climax with your teeth clenching, thighs shaking, mind spinning, soul soaring. Mydei soon follows, piercing his nails into your hips to mark you on the outside, releasing within you to mark you on the inside, and between labored rasps of your name, he smears his lips and tongue over yours in hopes of memorizing your addictive taste, your delighted sounds, and your passionate touch.

The two of you stay intertwined, even when neither of you are reeling from the impact of your highs. To part would be to abandon this private realm, which would mean returning to your normal tendencies of hesitance and restraint, and even though all of this will repeat once again tomorrow, you lack the patience to wait, still imprisoned in the moon’s warped, elongated trajectories of time and space.

Despite your defiance, the two of you fall asleep, consumed by wariness and longing, and another day of your life passes.

–

The Emperor has ten sons and countless more daughters. Today marks the seventeenth birthday of the fourth prince, and as expected, it is a grand event. Earlier, at the celebration’s reception, there were hundreds of dancers in neat rows, all flicking their sleeves and arching their fingertips to the rhythm of the Capital’s grand orchestra, also perfectly organized and harmonious as a whole. Following the conclusion of the performance, guards, servants, and lower-ranking officials dash back and forth and around the expanse of the Palace to ensure the undeterred progression of the fourth prince’s birthday party, while higher-ranking officials and generals, along with their accompanying guests, mill about before filing to their respective seats along the two columns of tables laid out parallel to the walls of the central courtyard. In the center front, there is a raised stage with a constructed overhang large enough to accommodate the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, and all ten sons. The platform and steps are entirely covered by a luxurious red carpet with golden floral patterns, and from Mydei’s seat, you can marvel at the delicate porcelain dishware set on top of masterfully carved wooden countertops. You are not used to such lavish displays of wealth and luxury because, although Mydei has long been one of the Emperor’s most loyal and trustworthy generals, that does not necessarily mean you are invited to visit the Palace often. Therefore, as the two of you wait for the birthday ceremony to officially begin, you try to sit as still as possible in order to marvel and take in your surroundings.

During this period, many governmental and bureaucratic figures visit your and Mydei’s seat to say their greetings and make elucidating small talk. Despite assuming his role as one of the Holy Nation’s protectors, your husband cannot abandon certain pet peeves of his, and he shuts down all but one of these conversations with dry responses that reveal nothing of his thoughts or opinions. The only official that he properly responds to is the Head of the Security Bureau, a man by the name of Phainon. From past dinner conversations, you remember Mydei mentioning this man but with the questionable nickname “Deliverer” instead. It was in reference to Phainon’s previous position under the Central Secretariat, though the reason behind his transfer to the Security Bureau continues to remain a secret even to your husband. Regardless, it is obvious that Mydei only tolerates this man at best, so you make sure to listen intently to their conversation.

Mydei! Rare to see you so festive!

It is Mydeimos for you, Deliverer.

Ha, yes, of course.

What is the Security Bureau doing here? What happened to keeping a low profile?

No worries, it is only me, and almost everyone here still believes I remain under the Secretariat. I am also here because I have news to share with you.

Hurry, then.

Phainon does not, though. He hums and begins to look around the courtyard. For a moment, you sense his gaze, but it does not linger for more than a full second. With a shake of his head, your husband sighs and takes deep gulps of water to keep himself preoccupied until the Security Head finally carries on.

He will want to speak to you, when it is your turn to congratulate the prince.

Regarding what?

But Phainon shrugs, and this time, there is no hint of evasion or distance. He truly does not know. But he does leave Mydei with one last piece of instruction.

You will be last in line.

After a few more teasing remarks, Phainon bids the two of you farewell, and from your periphery, you watch him disappear from the south gate.

Before dinner, all of the officials present are to line up in terms of rank and nobility, and, one by one, greet the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the princes, as well as present their gifts. As per military customs, Mydei requested a new sword sheath of untarnished gold be made for the fourth prince, to represent unwavering courage and honorable victory, so that shall be your offering. However, these interactions usually do not last for more than a few minutes, the last ones usually even more rushed, to ensure that everyone gets their turn and are not too irritated by mealtime, so you wonder how exactly the Emperor will relay his message. Furthermore, you find it suspicious that Phainon requested your husband, one of the generals under direct supervision of the Emperor, to place himself last.

Alas, you find yourself in another situation where you cannot draw sound conclusions. But now that Phainon has left and no other officials have the gall to approach Mydei, you can actually enjoy the ongoing celebrations with your husband.

You fill his tea cup and then yours, though you take a sip first. When you look up at him, he nods in affirmation before drinking himself. The walls, you notice, are a rustic red-brown, though much of it has been covered up by the willows and persimmon trees that were moved specifically for tonight’s event. Scattered between the trunks of the trees are gathered shrubs of all kinds, from batches of orange peonies to short stalks of bamboo to clusters of purple asters. You wonder if you could bring back a few roots or seeds with you, but with one sharp glance from Mydei, you discard the idea immediately.

Your husband knows that you are bored, though, so he offers some reprieve.

There are rumors that the fourth prince might not even make it to his own birthday party.

I am not surprised. I have heard the Emperor’s sons are quite rowdy.

I believe Phainon is here to ensure that all of the princes arrive on time and participate through its entirety. I must say, it is quite entertaining to see him chase after a few brats.

Mydei.

Do not worry. The Emperor is understanding. Besides, I am sure he wholeheartedly agrees at the current moment.

Oh?

Mydei raises his chin, staring up at the night sky. It is hard to make out any one star due to the outstanding numbers of torches, lamps, and fires distributed around the courtyard, but it is not like Mydei was looking at the stars in the first place. The two of you are different in this way. You often seek the world when you think, looking outwards for celestial signs, while Mydei often becomes more introspective with his musings. Even when it looks like he is searching for something, he most likely is not, as he believes all of the answers he needs are usually, perhaps with some effort required, within one’s grasp.

Phainon has aided our investigations of the Palace. He is confident that the culprit is not to be found here.

Your fist digs into the sleeves of your gown.

There are not even signs of collusion?

You know the deities would never stoop to that level. They do not need the help of mortal intelligence or treachery. Regardless, the Emperor has been made aware of the situation, and is quite preoccupied with it. His sons’ constant running about and lack of any sort of drive or initiative is certainly not doing him any good either.

Pursing your lips, you glance at your husband, only to find him already staring at you.

Fear not, my wife. I have slain products of the divine before.

His eyes seem to glow with fierce intensity. The red and orange streaks in his eyes are more noticeable, not because of the myriad torches surrounding your table, but rather because his eyes are widening out of enthusiasm. You scowl, disapproving of his evident bloodthirstiness, yet despite your opposing morals, you slip a hand into his hold. By instinct, he begins to press at the pads of your fingertips, while rubbing circles into your palm. If it were any other day, any other moment, his physical affection would soothe and reassure you. Unfortunately, as Mydei has just confirmed the worst of your suspicions, the fear taking root in the pit of your stomach has already begun to sprout and overwhelm the rest of your emotions.

Surely there is no need to jump into a fight.

Huh, you propose a negotiation? Our deities already know what the consequences of their actions are – they do not care to change their ways, even with such knowledge. What makes you think their minds are still susceptible to reconsideration?

Perhaps some of them do care.

Your husband snorts. To be honest, he is a little surprised by your response. Neither of you are particularly devout, and throughout his many years of knowing you at this point, he knows you are not fond of the divine. So for you to defend them, to the extent of betting on their fickle and spare goodwill, is unusual.

It is not up to me, my wife. I act based on what the Emperor asks of me.

Something in you – a gut instinct, a trained intuition – tells you that you will find out the Emperor’s decision by tonight.

After another half hour, composed of more light-hearted conversation and small bites of snacks to whet your appetite, a gong finally sounds, its ringing reverberating throughout the entirety of the Palace. You feel your bones quake with each vibration, and only after its last echoes have died off does your body regain stillness. The Emperor’s secretary makes his way to the center of the stage, and with a deep bow, commands everyone to rise for the Imperial Family. Everyone stands and bows, faces parallel to the floor, until all members of the Imperial Family settle into their seats, which the secretary confirms several minutes later. Afterwards, you all line up.

Other officials have curious looks on their faces as they see you and Mydei turn away from the stage. One even asks where the two of you are headed, wondering if you have lost your minds and are intent on abandoning the ceremony, but neither of you respond and continue toward the back of the line.

You and Mydei do not speak for the entire hour that it takes for your turn to come. The whole time, nervous and intimidated stares are directed your way, but both of you could care less, simply standing side by side, close enough for your sleeves to brush against and overlap each other.

When the rest of the officials have returned to their seats, only you and Mydei remain, standing a few feet away from the steps that lead up to the raised platform. With a nod from the secretary, Mydei leads you forward, always a step ahead, and when the two of you stand level with the Imperial Family, you get on your knees and raise your clasped hands in front of your dipped heads.

Good evening, your Highnesses. Congratulations to the Fourth Prince, for reaching his seventeenth birthday. We hope the prince continues to live a prosperous, fortunate, and long life, and I present this sword sheath, a product of the finest metals and months’ worth of labor, a tool that we hope he will use as he prepares to lead this Holy Nation. We pay our deepest respects to the Imperial Family.

An attendant takes the sheath from Mydei’s outstretched arms. Usually, one would be dismissed shortly after presenting their gift, but the secretary has yet to tell either of you to rise. Instead, you hear the sound of a chair’s legs rubbing against the carpet’s fur, along with padded footsteps that stop right in front of your husband.

General Mydeimos, you have done incredibly in serving me, and ultimately, this Holy Nation. Your loyalty is not to be questioned.

You recognize this voice. It is jaded yet firm, gentle but irrefutable. The Emperor is telling you his decision.

I want to make an announcement to all that are present, to heed my intent and my resolve. This Holy Nation has coexisted with and lived under the guidance of Tian, but it has not always been a harmonious or even peaceful endeavor. As Emperor, it is my sworn duty, an oath I have undertaken since the day of my inauguration, to protect my people, including all of you, and I can promise you that, throughout these many years under my rule, Tian and I are connected and that I have been in constant search to make a more serene coexistence – a symbiosis, if you will – possible. However –

It seems the Palace and everything within it unanimously sucks in a quavering breath.

– it has become apparent that the heavens have no interest in granting us such serenity. Of course, by no means is this speech of mine a declaration of war or defiance. Rather, I believe this burden I am about to share with you is, in fact, a challenge for this Holy Nation, and one that will be undertaken by a representative of my choosing: Mydeimos. General Mydeimos, please rise.

As much as you would love to raise your head and stare at Mydei like everyone else, you have not been granted permission to lift your head, so you can only continue to heed the Emperor’s message carefully, trying to discern any subtle implications while continuing to pay attention to the words that follow.

For the many years that he has served me, General Mydeimos has become a pillar in the Holy Nation’s defenses. He has slain many of Tian’s earthbound descendants, protecting this land from the destruction of loose spirits and evil demons. Under his watchful gaze, he had confirmed the prophetic fragments I was receiving from Tian, that it is part of this Holy Nation’s fate that we are to face our doom if we remain motionless and ignorant. My people, hear me now, and listen to me carefully, as this message of mine is not meant to inflict any unnecessary fear or anxiety. However, the heavens have told me, as I am telling you, that if nothing is done, the entire world will be burned to its core by the manifestation of ten suns. No human, no animal, no plant will survive the onslaught of ten more suns, no ocean or lake or sea can withstand the fire of ten more suns, not even Tian’s earthbound descendants will be spared.

For this most inauspicious prophecy, I must apologize, on behalf of my ten sons, for their continuous mischief and negligence have been deemed the cause of this impending tragedy. Indeed, Tian has whispered as such in my mind. This Holy Nation deeply understands the various attitudes our deities have towards humans. Some are indifferent, some are intensely curious. It seems this impending tragedy has come about from the latter. My ten sons, this Holy Nation’s royal princes, have inspired the same mischief and negligence in ten of Yudi’s sons. They aspire to experience the same carefree play that my sons have gone away with – escaping the Palace, tricking the innocent to satisfy their personal greed, disappearing for extended periods of time. This behavior has never been acceptable in the Imperial Family, yet despite our fervent attempts to curb their behaviors, Yudi’s sons have already seen enough.

There is now more than one sun in the sky, there is no mistake to that. We will continue to see more and more suns appear, and by the tenth, we will all perish. We must not cast doubt on this matter anymore, because the severity of this issue is life-threatening.

But, again, need I remind all that are present that I do not wish to embed an unjustified sense of fear or anxiety in any of you. The reason I have called upon all of you is because I would like all that are present to bear witness to this heavenly oath that General Mydeimos will take.

You cannot help but gasp, a sharp, harsh intake of breath that almost causes you to sputter and cough. But, even when the world feels like it is falling down on you, you manage to bear the pain, and you stifle it with tears gathering in your burning eyes.

General Mydeimos, there is no end to your remarkable feats in the military, and we are grateful for all that you have done. However, this ask of mine is one of a difficulty I can promise you have never faced before, and you must know, it could be the last task you ever undertake. Knowing all of the risks, I still ask you to take the following oath: I, General Mydeimos, under the watchful eye of the people of this Holy Nation, the Emperor, and all of Tian who are interested, I pledge to take down all but one of the suns, even at the cost of my own life.

It feels impossible to breathe. It seems, no matter how you try to escape, how far you run away, or where you disappear to, the divine will always catch up to you, pulling you away from your loved ones, and the other way around. Hot streams of tears pour down your cheeks, and the only way to prevent yourself from making any noise is to bite down on your lower lip, until your jaws are locking and your teeth are piercing through the thin flesh. Your clasped hands shudder violently, not only from the exhaustion of holding them up for so long, but also from how tightly they are gripping onto each other. Your knuckles are without a doubt strained, and your fingernails are digging into the backs of your hands. Your ears ring with deafening silence, while straining to hear Mydei’s response, yet you also do not want to listen, fearful because you know that, even if he had a choice, he would always agree to a brutal fight.

Without a beat of hesitation, your husband, chief of your village, a general of this Holy Nation, speaks.

I, General Mydeimos, under the watchful eye of the people of this Holy Nation, the Emperor, and all of Tian who are interested, I pledge to take down all but one of the suns, even at the cost of my own life.

Despite the crescendo of applause, the drums, the gong, you hear nothing. You are not sure how it is that you manage to bow to the Emperor, make your way down from the stage, and return to your seat alongside Mydei’s, but to be honest, you do not care how you did any of those things. All you can think about is that, once again, your loved one is being separated from you, all because of the heavens and the divine, and even if his hand is clutching onto yours at this moment, so tight that you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers or the center of your palm, he has never felt farther away.

–

There is no more of your routine with Mydei. He is taken away at the end of the birthday party to begin making preparations for his conquest, leaving you to return to the village alone. He does not visit, can only make time to send concise messages, but he does promise you that he will return the night before he is scheduled to leave.

This is not Mydei’s first conquest, but it is his first conquest that you are dreading, to say the least. It is difficult to encapsulate the extent of your mental anguish because the resurfacing of past traumas, of memories you are insistent on forgetting, is a dark, murky sensation. It is asphyxiating, but you do not know that you are being choked until it is too late, past the point of return. You are no different from a sleeping mouse in the coiled chokehold of a starving snake, and there is nothing to save you, not even to witness your death. Part of you knows this is a globalization of an internal anxiety, as Mydei has not been slain. He is well and alive presently, but that does not answer your deepest concern: will he survive? Even if you sought out divine signals as you had once routinely done over a decade ago, you have been taught that it is taboo to seek the fate of an individual. Fate can be consulted for villages, the weather, long-term wealth, but to determine the death of somebody, even an important figure, is strongly discouraged as there is no use in disturbing one’s mind over a matter that has been set in stone since the birth of this universe.

Not that any of that is relevant. You are sure the divine, even the weakest of Tian’s spirits, would not heed your call, would pay no mind to a trivial woman that had, a long time ago, abandoned her position as a high priestess, and in turn, her prolific ability to invoke divinity. Had you remained at the convent and grown into your role as high priestess, perhaps only then would they give you a fraction of their time, but then, in that case, you would not be praying for Mydei’s safety, but rather for the protection of this Holy Nation as a whole.

There is no particular reason for why you have hidden your past from Mydei or the villagers, other than to save face. After all, no one would believe in the loyalty or commitment of a traitor. Regardless, now that there is established trust, you staunchly believe there is no need to share distasteful matters, like your pathetic past. At this moment, everyone should prioritize Mydei, as well as ensuring the operations of the village during his absence.

Mydei finds you not in the dining room, but in his office at his desk, with a candelabra burning away, as if you are prepared to work the whole night. You are combing through a few scrolls that were once shelved, the old texts he used to pore over when he was training to become village chief. It is not that you are a stranger to their contents or to the duties of the village chief. It is simply that, when you are uneasy, you tend to return to the very basics, to instill confidence within yourself that there is a logical rationale behind your actions and decisions. He knocks on the office doors and watches through the parted screen window as you scramble up from your seat from surprise. He chuckles, but had there been any listeners, they would know those were half-hearted at best.

We need to talk.

It is comforting, though, that there remain some things that will never change. Even if you are not honest, Mydei will always face you with a straightforward attitude, and compared to before, he feels more present, confirming that he is, in fact, standing in front of you, when he loops your arm through his. You let him guide you away from the office and to your shared bedroom, where you can, for the last time in a while, immerse yourselves in this space dedicated only to the two of you.

On the bed, he pulls you into a tight, engulfing embrace. With his chest molded against your arched back, his legs spread out to barricade your form, his chin atop your left shoulder where the bite mark once was, the two of you parse through all and any matters.

There will be a caravan arriving in a month’s time.

The north west gate needs to be rebuilt.

We should consider extending trade to some of the towns in the south.

You will miss it when the peaches are in season.

Be sure to visit Grandma Li. She tends to forget to take her medication.

Do not forget to rest your arm. Feng Meng will not take it easy on you, even if you are his general and him your soldier. You will always be his master first.

When you need me, look up at the moon, because I will also be gazing at it. Never forget that we are forever under the same sky.

The moonlight is especially consoling that night. Unlike his usual tendencies to dominate and overwhelm, your husband lets you set the pace, and atop him, he watches you surge up and down, the moon’s beams illuminating your damp skin, your parted lips, and your glossed eyes. Your breasts, hips, thighs ripple with every unforgiving drop of your body onto his, and his cock pierces you deeply in turn, reaching and hitting spots that cause you to see stars. He never fails to make you feel fulfilled, but tonight, you are voracious, and you just want more, more, more of him. You want to embed pieces of yourself into his body, so that throughout his campaign, no matter how long it lasts, he will never once waver when he thinks back to your touch, your scent, your love. As you continue riding him, you run your hands over his sturdy form, letting your fingers trace the divots of his muscles, the fat of his chest, the red streaks of tattoo that paint his arms. It is also so that you will never forget, drawing an illustrative map of his body so that in your times of loneliness, anxiety, and want, you also have something of his to depend upon. Perhaps you have forgotten how to live without your husband, but that is a subject for introspection later. In the present, you decide to accelerate your movements and apply more force with every exerted rise and fall.

Eventually, you collapse forward because by no means do you have as much stamina as your husband, but you urge yourself to push forward nonetheless and resort to more shallow lifts and dramatic swirls of your hips. With your face buried against the underside of his chin, you begin to mouth at his neck and Adam’s apple, the rumble of his groans and hisses traveling and vibrating straight through the thin skin of your lips. When it looks like your husband’s exhibiting a significant amount of restraint, with the way his head keeps shaking side to side and his hands grip onto your thighs with shackling strength, you cannot help but smirk, ready to give him his release that he is so desperately delaying. You litter a line of kisses down to his collarbones, and after a few laves of your tongue, as if to smooth and placate him, you bite down, sinking your teeth into the juncture where his neck and shoulders meet, clamping down so hard with the intent to punish, to instill guilt, to kill his fighting spirit.

Normally, you would never do such a thing. You have no interest in tying your partner down or forcing them to sacrifice the people and things they love and enjoy. But since he has granted you so much selfishness already, you might as well go the full way and make him really understand the state he has put you in. For, even upon reflection, you know it in your bare, raw soul that you will never know life without your husband. Where he goes, you follow. If he is alive, you will be, too. But if he were to die, then your time will also have come.

Your husband cries out loud with a wild shout of your name, arms flying to enclose themselves around your figure out of both surprise and overstimulation, and with a spontaneous jerk of his hip upwards, his cock collides with your core and slams into that spot, the one that always has you ripping apart at the seams and screaming for mercy, pulling you up to your euphoric high with him. Ironically, it feels as if you are falling from Tian, soaring through the sky while being unable to breathe, a coursing pleasure followed by a stinging, bittersweet pang. You do not even realize you are sobbing until your husband muffles your wails with his mouth, swallowing your grief and despair down with his own fears, of which he definitely has but will never voice.

Mydei is not used to seeing you so sentimental. You are more aloof and reserved, so he is not as practiced with handling your outbursts as he should be. But even he knows that this torrential surging of your emotions is really a broken heart personified. You need him to know that your heart is being torn and cracked and smashed by the inevitable reality of his leave, and he knows you are telling him that only he can fix you by coming back in one piece and with a sound mind.

For the remainder of the night, he holds you impossibly closer, one hand always keeping your face to his chest, the other always wound around your waist, his legs always tangled with yours. And before he falls asleep, he looks out the window, gazing up at a sliver of the starry sky, and prays to the moon to cast its gentle, assuring light upon you every dusk he is gone. Despite his personal gripes with the divine, he is convinced that, with the way it has never failed to make you look so mesmerizing and delicate underneath its glow, the moon will continue to bask you with its nurture and protection for as long as it takes for him to return, and he is soothed by that thought, because someone needs to look out for you in his absence.

By the early dawn, he is ready to leave. The two of you stand at the entrance to your abode, and with a chaste kiss to your forehead, he finally parts from you, distancing himself in slow motion. You watch, rooted to your spot, as he gets on his horse, relishes in one last longing gaze, and sets off. He rides away without looking back, and when he is out of sight, you, too, return to your bedroom without even the faintest sign of indecision or doubt.

–

Mydei returns not the following summer, but the summer after, right when the peach blossoms have begun shedding to make way for the green buds that will, in two to three weeks’ time, fruit. There is no fanfare or parade, not even an announcement to notify you of his arrival. In fact, for the little over two years since his departure, you were not informed of any aspect of his campaign from official channels. It did not matter, though, when everyone was able to keep track of his progress with every morning that passed.

Barely a month after his leave, you woke up with sweat soaking through your clothes and blankets, as if you had remained in a bath with your clothes on for several hours. You made it a habit to leave your windows open every night, but had you woken up that morning any later, you would have been sunburnt to the point of permanent scarring from the three suns that were just beginning to rise in the sky, their unrelenting heat scorching everything that happened to soak in its light. You got up and warned everyone in the household to remain indoors, and perilously, you took not one, but two, thickly lined parasols with you as you made your way through the village to issue warnings and usher those that were outside back into their homes. The flowers that you had tended to just the other afternoon were already wilting, dehydrated, and you goaded the rabbits from their hole with a trail of fruits and leaves to another you had haphazardly dug where there was everlasting shade.

Later on, you would hear that Mydei had first tried to negotiate with Yudi’s sons, telling them to fulfill their appetite for mischief with something else, but given the inconsistencies in the rumors, it is not clear whether the sons ignored or denied the general’s demands. It seems that Mydei’s attempt at swaying their minds only further encouraged them to follow through with their plan, and Yudi’s sons began to wreak havoc shortly afterwards. As a result, it became a hunt, one that required Mydei and his troop to race around the Holy Nation in search of each of Yudi’s kin. Mydei and his men could only attack at night, when the sons had left their daytime posts to make way for the moon, but they never came down together, instead settling in different parts of the Holy Nation.

The information you managed to garner, in the form of riveting tales and dubiously trustworthy gossip, either came from the village children’s eavesdropping or the occasional letter from Phainon, which he sent under personal regards. There never was an explanation for why you were kept in the dark, and you never bothered to ask either, because what good would it do for you? Had your husband been slain, you and everyone else in the world would have known already, and you need not entertain excessive hope. All you had to do was see if you could wake to another day.

The worst occurred a year and a half into Mydei’s journey, when there were six suns in the sky at once, their brightness bleeding out even the pure blue of the space beyond. Everybody stayed indoors and covered every possible crack or opening to prevent sunlight from leaking in, but not without the cost of broiling within their own rooms. On days when it was more possible to venture outside, you and your guards had to visit the occasional house to pull out dead bodies, smelling of decaying rot, feces, and steam, and bury them before even their right to a dignified burial was stolen by Yudi’s kin. And this was not a problem exclusive to your village. The Palace began to ring a large gong, three resonating beats, at noon every day to honor the growing number of victims, and there was a national decree for every home to light incense and perform daily prayers during the early evenings to beg for Tian’s interference.

Of course, nobody from Tian ever responded, but it seemed as if Mydei had sensed his people’s tortured cries, and from that point onwards, the suns continue to be felled, one after the other, until only one remained, the same sun that has stood with the earth since the very beginning.

You are in his office when your head lady-in-waiting calls out your title with excited raps against the paneled doors.

My Lady! You must come! Someone has come for you!

You are on your feet immediately, and you almost knock her over when you burst through the doors.

However, you are not greeted by your husband. Rather, it is another familiar face that greets you with a toothy grin and a proud hand saluted at his head.

We have made it back, safe and sound!

You cannot help but throw your arms around the man’s neck, hugging him without reprieve for air. His arms do not reciprocate, for it is inappropriate for a man to demonstrate affection towards a taken woman, but by his hearty laughs, you know he is overjoyed by your reaction.

Where is your master, Feng Meng?

In the Capital, reporting to the Emperor. I have come to fetch you, Madam, to attend his ceremony! You must hurry!

Without another thought, you and your servants rush to dress you. There are flurries of orange sashes, twirling skirts with golden beads sewn at the waist, the clicking of green jade against white jade, and in no later than ten minutes, you are in an oxcart that speeds its way to the Palace.

It is extremely difficult to get to the Palace. First, all entrances to the Capital are at a standstill, bottlenecked by a flood of traffic composed of several donkeys, horses, and merchant carts. The inside of the Capital fares no better – in fact, made worse by all of the pedestrians, street-side shops, and narrow paths. It is only after your cart finally pushes its way through the long lines and leaves the more populated and mercantile neighborhoods that the traffic disperses, and then it is an orderly journey to the Palace. When the guards ask for the purpose of your visit, Feng Meng simply needs to flash the handle of his sword, and you are directed to enter through the back gates, typically only reserved for guests of honor.

You swallow thickly from the infinite, various thoughts swirling in your mind. Will he have scars etching every corner of his body? Will he be several shades tanner? Is his hair an unruly length, or has he cut, or worse, singed it short? Is he a changed person, more violent in demeanor or fatigued from excessive stress? You do not plan on bombarding him with your questions, as he is probably answering plenty from government officials and the Emperor himself, but you also cannot guarantee that you will be able to restrain yourself. Though, the more you think about it, you are not sure how you should react when you see him. Should you wait for him to approach you, or should you take the initiative? Will he want to embrace you or keep you at a distance to give himself some space? How different is he from the man he was more than two years ago, and what will this current version of Mydei think of you when he sees you?

You fail to devise a plan by the time your cart comes to a stop and Feng Meng holds his elbow out to help you jump down. The Palace guards instruct you to wait with the other soldiers' wives, mothers, and fathers in the tea room around the corner, and Feng Meng directs you before he has to leave to prepare for the ceremony himself. You are unsure if Mydei will come to you as you wait in the tea room, so in the case that he does, you find a chair closest to the open entrance, and sit in perfect posture, still and quiet. The other people in the room are frantic, sharing the same questions and concerns you have, but requiring and taking advantage of the comfort of family to alleviate each other’s doubts and fears. You are reminded that neither you or Mydei have other family to turn to, only each other, and oddly enough, you become more optimistic.

All of you are in the tea room for two hours before a Palace guard comes to beckon the entire gathering to follow him. The guard guides all of you to your seats, near the back of the same courtyard you were in for the fourth prince’s seventeenth birthday party. This time, instead of two columns of tables, there are rows upon rows of people kneeling shoulder to shoulder, facing in the direction of the raised center stage. As per usual, the Imperial Family has yet to make their appearance, but they soon will after the highest-ranking officials finish taking their seats.

Finally, with the blaring sound of horns and gongs and drums, the award ceremony begins, and the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the ten princes ascend their thrones. The secretary comes at the end of the line, and with a nod from the Emperor, the former begins his speech.

Today marks the official end of General Mydeimos’ campaign to defeat ten of Yudi’s sons. General Mydeimos and his men have returned victorious, and so, we host today’s ceremony in tribute to their bravery and success.

The crowd breaks into a clamoring of applause, a little more unruly due to the ecstatic and celebratory atmosphere.

We will present General Mydeimos and his troop of 62 surviving soldiers with honorable military status, in addition to multiple monetary benefits. We will also mourn the loss of the 138 soldiers, whose lives were lost throughout the campaign’s duration, with a funeral procession that will take place the following Saturday and Sunday. Families of the deceased will receive imperial support, and on behalf of this Holy Nation, we are indebted to the sacrifices you and your sons have made. More information regarding the funeral and compensation will be announced and distributed in the coming days. With that, we will begin by awarding the 62 soldiers.

A line of soldiers marches forth from behind you, and you closely observe them as they trod past you. Their faces are set and stern, and they are wearing their tattered armor, rusted and melted swords, bows, and spears held in place on their backs. You also notice several holding onto the solder in front of them, and with a closer look, you realize many of them have either a diminished or total loss of sight. As the line reaches the steps to the stage, the secretary begins calling out each name, handing every person when it is their turn a bronze badge with an engraved solar insignia and a hefty bag of riches. There is no applause, as silence is a way of demonstrating utmost attention and respect, until all the soldiers have been named and awarded. The survivors line up once again and seat themselves along the walls of the courtyard.

Then, an obedient hush falls across the crowd, all in anticipation of the true hero. You, too, suck in your breath, eyes darting around in search of your husband, the chief of your village, a general of this Holy Nation. With a deep breath, the secretary announces his presence in a booming, grand voice.

General Mydeimos, please enter!

Your abilities to speak, breathe, even think are stolen from you. It does not feel like reality when you see Mydei, his hair tied in a clean knot on the top of his head, a velvety black cape billowing behind his broad, intimidating figure, the metal blade of his glaive glinting fiercely underneath the rays of the single sun in the sky. Mydei spares nothing to the crowd, not a prideful smirk or disinterested glance, and simply kneels deeply when he makes his way in front of the Imperial Family.

The Emperor rises from his seat, and the secretary is prompted to narrate.

General Mydeimos, the Emperor would like to personally bestow you your rewards, for your incomparable feat in defeating Yudi’s sons, ten of Tian’s mightiest creations. On behalf of the Imperial Family, he would like to award you a ranking within the nobility and an accompanying northern estate in the Capital. Furthermore, your village will receive recovery aid from the government and many trade benefits. Thank you, once again, for your service.

The Emperor gestures for Mydei to stand, and attaches a noble badge onto the latter’s cloak. Mydei then turns around and bows to the crowd.

General Mydeimos, would you like to say anything, in light of your return and victorious conquest?

He sweeps his eyes across the hundreds of people in front of him before lifting his head and glaring up at the clear blue sky.

My men and I have returned, and the Holy Nation is safe. We are safe, and undefeated.

Through the thundering of applause, cheers, and cries, you tear up at the glorious sight of your husband. He is far away, not as far as he was these past two years, but still a fair distance away such that you cannot make out the features of his face. How blessed it is to live in the same world as him, you think, and it seems your undivided admiration of your husband causes you to accidentally rid yourself of your presence. Mydei’s head snaps to look in your direction, having sensed a change within the audience. He cannot see you individually, but he knows you are somewhere amongst that section of the crowd, and he nods his head, dipping his chin with solemn confidence. Then, he begins to make his way down the steps to take his leave.

That is, until a shiver runs down his spine, a gut instinct alerting him of a formidable presence, and he swivels around to look behind him as his hands reach for his glaive, only to be blinded by a shining white light. What is even more concerning is, as he tries to block the light from his view, he notices that there is no reaction from anyone else present – in fact, there is no sound at all. The light begins to retract on its own, and as Mydei blinks through his stunned vision, he sees that the secretary, the guards lining the bottom of the stairs, the officials sitting in the front rows of the audience – all of them are frozen in place, mouths open in mid-conversation, hands stuck beside their heads in dramatic gestures, eyes wide open, unblinking. The scenery has not changed one bit, aside from the fact that everyone and everything is unmoving, yet he can still sense the formidable presence surrounding him.

Oh, I thought it was just you and me.

A voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere, speaks. Suddenly, a familiar voice – your shout – pierces through the silent space.

Mydei!

He turns to where he once looked in the crowd and spots your standing figure. But before he can sprint to you, or call you over, the voice speaks again.

Forgive me, I do not mean to scare either of you. I had only intended to speak to Mydeimos, however.

With that, your body slumps over and drops onto the ground. Without hesitation, Mydei swings his glaive and, with a snarl, holds it out in front of himself, body poised to attack.

What did you do to my wife!

You cannot fight me, for I will not appear in front of you. As for your wife, I have put her to sleep. I only wish to speak to you.

Concerning what matter?

But the voice does not speak again, and instead, his glaive is replaced, and a ball appears in one hand.

What is this! Answer me!

An elixir of immortality, made of a blade of grass found only in Tian. If you ingest this elixir, it will grant you endless life, and you will become one of us. Take this as a sign of my gratitude.

Before he can respond, there is another flash of that same blinding white light from earlier, and the chaos of the courtyard returns, everything resuming their intended ways. Only the ball in his hand, the lack of his weapon, and your unconscious form indicate that his conversation actually took place.

Following the award ceremony, Mydei is invited to stay as a guest in the Palace, but he declines, not even trying to come up with a reason to justify his need to return to his village immediately.

He returns before you do but only needs to wait for half an hour before he hears you running through the walkways of your estate, approaching your chamber where he is waiting for you. Even though he had encountered Yudi’s sons, all ten of them combined would pale in the face of the omnipotent force that had approached him, and he is sure you are as, if not more, distraught as he is.

When you come rushing in, he rises from the bed and catches you as you leap at him, your trembling body against his.

My love, are you alright!

I need to show you this.

You refuse to separate from him, though, so he squeezes his hand into the crevice between your neck and his chest, and presses the elixir against your skin. That causes you to jump back, and your expression can only be described as one of pure shock.

That cannot be.

Mydei purses his lips.

The voice said it can grant immortality.

That - that voice. Only Yudi and Wang Mu Niang Niang possess access to the elixir of immortality. It - it must have been her! How can this be!

If it is Wang Mu Niang Niang, she said this was a gift out of gratitude.

He watches you take shaky steps back to him. You are trained on the ball in his palm, in disbelief of the existence of it.

W-well… are you going to take it?

Mydei snorts.

Of course not. I would be a fool to separate us from each other for any longer. I also have no intention of becoming a liar or a hypocrite, when I have had little regard for the divine since my birth. Have you forgotten what your husband is like?

His words, mostly tart with a hint of lilting tease, manages to draw a huff of a chuckle from you.

I am home. And I plan to stay for a while.

He scans your face and frame. There are more lines on your face, no doubt a result of your labor and sleepless nights from watching over the village by yourself. Your hair has also gotten quite thin and is a lighter shade, washed out by the suns’ harsh light, and there is both a rigidness and a frailty to your aura, both of which he has never sensed before. You, too, take your time in observing your husband, who has indeed gotten quite tan, and his hair is even longer, reaching down to his hips. There are several patches of his skin that are charred and burned, and you wince at the notion of such extreme pain and beating. Some things remain the same, however, such as the chiseled lines of his muscles and the bold red of his tattoos.

Moreover, this beat of hesitation, of holding each other at an arm’s length away, stays constant as well. But it does not last as long anymore, when Mydei breaks first and draws you into his hold. This embrace is one saturated with warmth, longing, and satisfaction, your first genuine hug since the two of you parted ways over two years ago. You take in his presence, as he does with yours, and in this room, this space just for the two of you, it finally feels complete and whole again.

Later, before the both of you head out for dinner with the rest of the villagers, Mydei decides to hide the elixir in a wooden box that he conceals in the corner of the bedroom. Though neither of you may have a need for it, it may be safer to conceal its existence, especially from potential prying eyes and envious minds.

–

A week later, a Palace messenger arrives at your estate to announce the holding of a banquet that evening in honor of Mydei and his troop. Your husband scoffs at the invitation, but with a stern glare from you, he begrudgingly accepts. These days, Mydei deigns to leave your side, constantly following you about as you resume your village duties and responsibilities. You also make time to bring him around to show him what he has missed out on.

One dawn, you take him to visit Grandma Li’s grave. You bring a basket of pears, homemade rice cakes filled with peanut butter, and incense pillars as offerings, and Mydei kneels for a long time in front of the grave. Another lunchtime, the two of you go to collect peaches, and as it was a Sunday, the children who had no school to attend that day joined you with their parents and siblings. You also show him the rabbits that you raised, the babies now fully grown with fluffy white coats and beady red eyes. And the night before the Palace’s banquet, your village hosts its own at your estate, and many of Mydei’s men come over. Mydei sits with his disciple Feng Meng, while you mill about to pay your respects to the village’s elders and to extend your appreciation to the soldiers present for their loyalty toward your husband.

You pass by a table occupied by a large family of seven. You are especially close to this family’s twins who are both ten-years-old, though not out of personal bias, but because they are relentless in their pursuit for your affection. As so, when the twins notice you, they scream out to you.

Eat with us! Eat with us!

You laugh, shaking your head with a soft smile.

Sorry, little ones, but I must eat with the chief tonight. I will join you for a meal another day.

They huff, crossing their plush arms across their chests. Then, as twins are with their shared thoughts and intuition, they share a cheerful look before turning back to you. The older of the two, a girl, speaks first, before the younger one, a boy, follows up, and the two continue to alternate back and forth.

We heard something interesting at school yesterday!

It is about the chief!

And we heard it from the ninth prince himself!

The prince said the chief had a forbidden medicine –

– a medicine that would make him young forever!

But we read in our books that that kind of medicine only exists in Tian.

Yet the prince looked awfully serious. Is there something wrong with the ninth prince?

Or is the prince right? That the elixir of immortality is real?

You pat their heads while maintaining your expression.

Lower your voices and hush now. If you are caught speaking ill of the Imperial Family, you will lose your tongues. Eat, before dinner gets cold.

You bid your farewell, and head back to your table. As you walk, though, you mull over the twins’ words.

As much as you despise your upbringing as a child of the divine, you find that the hard skills you learned since young have been more helpful than not throughout your life, even after you abandoned your post. Like now, you know not to ignore the signs. Twins are fortuitous, especially boy-girl pairs, and given that they brought up the elixir of all subjects tells you that Wang Mu Niang Niang’s gift is not something that can be so easily forgotten or discarded. You must exercise caution and remain vigilant, all while exhibiting inconspicuousness.

When you return to Mydei’s side, you realize Feng Meng is gone. You ask about the latter’s whereabouts, to which your husband responds that his disciple went to the bathroom. You run your hand through his hair, tracing your fingernail through his braids that you did this morning, before you excuse yourself to change into something warmer.

You pad through the darkened walkways, stopping whenever you run into a guard or a lady-in-waiting. You ask if they have seen Feng Meng, and you follow each of their instructions, until you realize you are navigating towards your husband’s office. Before you make the bend that would allow you to see the office, you wait, extinguishing your presence as you have done when tending to the rabbits and channeling your foresight. When your soul is quiet, everything around gets louder, and though it is faint, there is a vanishing trace of disdain that you can sense that stains the path to Mydei’s office. The flickering nature of the presence tells you there must be another human nearby, one skilled but not yet masterful. But before you can fetch Mydei for help, you must confirm your suspicions.

With quick and light steps, you glide to the old willow that drapes itself over the office building. From behind the trunk, you can peer inside one of the windows, though it does take some effort as it is only wedged open by a fraction and there is no light inside. From what you can tell, there are several unfurled scrolls strewn across his desk, and if you strain your ears, you can hear the shuffling and rearranging of the items on the shelves closest to you. While you do not know who this intruder is, as it could be someone other than Feng Meng, it is clear that someone is there.

You hurry back and try your best to keep up the silencing of your qi, despite the thrumming of anxiety that courses through your blood.

Mydei catches onto your intentions quickly, as he notices your appearance has not changed at all upon your return. You note that Feng Meng’s absence persists. He comes up to you, but instead of directing him to where the intruder is, you loop your arms through his and gently urge him to follow you around the villagers and soldiers. After all, you do not know if the intruder is acting alone, and if not, there could be those watching your husband closely.

As you pace around, you quietly inform him.

Someone is ransacking your office. I believe they are looking for the elixir.

How would they know about it?

Even the children have heard about it. At the very least, it is known that the ninth prince has been talking about its potential existence in the Capital.

How would the ninth prince know about it?

It is a good question, so you ponder it briefly.

I have a hypothesis, if you will entertain me.

Please, go ahead.

Remember how I was awake initially? It could be that the Imperial Family was also awake.

How could I have missed that?

No, not in the same way that you and I were awake. We could move about, even under Wang Mu Niang Niang’s spell. I was most likely able to withstand her spell because of my tolerance to divinity. By that logic, then, it is possible that the Imperial Family and priests were also able to retain their consciousness during her appearance, but were solely limited to that.

That is enough said on your part. The rest, Mydei understands. It is his turn, then, to formulate a strategy.

I will take the direct route to our bedroom. Veil yourself and go from the back, around the washroom. I will leave first, or else they will be suspicious of you.

He rubs his thumb across your cheek, a gesture of reassurance, and he makes some conversation with a few of the elders to his side before he goes on his way. You spend even longer lingering around the villagers, but also with the soldiers, to see if any of them are accomplices. But there is no sense of hostility or hatred from them. The more you investigate, hovering within the soldiers’ presence, the more confident you are that none of them are involved. That leaves you with two options: the intruder is acting alone, confirming their identity as Feng Meng, or alongside members of the Security Bureau.

You sigh. You must go now.

–

Mydei is broiling with anger. There is no need to hide his presence, as he wants to make it known that he is furious. His people have long suffered at the hands of the current empire, the village having been conquered during his incompetent father’s reign, and while he has tried to make peace with the Emperor, he has never once forgiven him and the Holy Nation. Now, he is being targeted for something he did not ask for – if they wanted it, they could have just asked for it! He shakes his head and rolls out his wrists, preparing to draw his blade and kill all that invades his home.

You are too reckless, Mydei.

Mydei swings, but misses.

Deliverer!

The Head of the Security Bureau steps out of the shadow, a black mask covering all but his piercing blue eyes. Had Mydei not worked with the Head before, the latter’s sudden appearance would have startled him.

You fool! You have always been the Emperor’s dog!

Mydei, it is you who is the dog. You need to be subjugated. The Emperor will no longer tolerate defiance from you or your village.

Defiance! How laughable!

This is not a laughing matter.

This is no matter in the first place.

I am afraid, then, that this is not something we can talk through.

Mydei has no doubt that he can defeat Phainon. His only fear is that he will not be fast enough.

–

It seems you were right in following the signs because you are exceptionally lucky. The moon lights your path so that you can navigate your way through your abode with ease and speed. So far, there does not seem to be anybody trailing you, and the intruder is nowhere to be seen, so they are not targeting you either. At this rate, it is likely that the intruder has left Mydei’s office and is searching elsewhere.

You take a deep breath out of relief when you arrive at your chamber and realize that no one else is present. There is only one entrance to your bedroom, so you take extra care to be silent as you come around from behind the building, and when the coast is clear, you sneak into your room. You pay no mind that the inside is dark, as you know the placement of everything by heart. You approach the corner of the room where Mydei hid the wooden box inside a large jar with bamboo planks stacked on top. You remove everything one by one, hurrying but prioritizing the need for silence above all else. But, again, it seems luck is on your side, and you are able to retrieve the elixir without a hitch. You move everything back to their original placements, except for the medicinal ball that you tightly clutch in your fist.

All is well, until you step out of your bedroom.

You cannot help but scream when you see Mydei, bloody and battered, fighting against Phainon, bruised and limping.

No!

Both of them cease their movements, surprised by your presence. But before either of them can come to, something surges up from beneath you, and a hand flies up to grab you by the neck, limiting your ability to breathe without delay.

It hurts. It is an excruciating pain of being crushed under a heavy weight. You have heard that suffocating is akin to drowning, which feels like being roasted and burned from the inside out. You wonder if Mydei has ever experienced pain like this, perhaps when he received those patches of permanently seared skin. In your choking, murky view, you can make out the blurred outline of Feng Meng, his face contorted in an ugly, deceitful frown as he breathes heavily. And through your pounding ears, you barely make out his words.

I know you have it! If you just give it to me, Madam, your life will be spared!

Even if you could talk, you would not answer. However, since you cannot speak anyway, you demonstrate your refusal by flailing, thrashing your legs in every direction possible and beating Feng Meng’s arms with your fists. You know that you are only wasting your energy, but since Feng Meng is not ready to kill you yet, you desperately take in shallow gasps of air as well. You can hear Mydei screaming your name over and over again in between silvery screeches of gold colliding against brass, and by now, you think your guards should be on their way to address the commotion. But even their arrival might be too late for you, and it seems your luck has run out.

Feng Meng’s grip on you tightens, preventing air from entering you entirely. You probably look like a fish out of water, uselessly gaping your mouth and sputtering drool all over.

Madam, I will only ask you once more, or I will take it by force! Please hand over the elixir!

It is no use. You will not give him the elixir, and he needs to retrieve it by any means. With no compromise in sight, the two of you are at a standstill. That means one of you has to take action.

Without another thought, with the last remnants of your fading strength, you bring your shaky fist to your greying lips and release your clutch, dropping the ball into your mouth.

Then you swallow.

It is as if time has stopped, once again. Everyone else, including Mydei, is frozen in the middle of their actions, and only you are able to move for however long you have. You remove Feng Meng’s chokehold on you, and heave in desperate breaths.

Your mind immediately begins to clear, and that is made apparent when you sense her. Now that you know who she is, her omnipresence, preceded by a white light, is less frightening.

That was not intended for your use.

You take another deep, shuddering breath.

My apologies, Wang Mu Niang Niang. But I figured it would be better than handing it over to the likes of Feng Meng. He would have eaten it on the spot.

That was not a call for you to make.

But you knew this would happen. I know the divine are capable of seeing into the future.

You are too powerful for your own good. Perhaps this was the best outcome, after all.

Seeing that you are still on your own, you rush to Mydei’s side, placing a hand on his cheek. His eyes are wide, golden and rouge irises twinkling under the moonlight. His mouth is wide open, as he was probably in the midst of screaming at you to Just hand it over! There are blood splatters that cover his temple and neck, and you use your sleeve to rub those away, before peppering kisses onto the corners of his lips.

Mortal, I will allow you to bring two things from this earth to the moon, where you will join me.

You pause in the middle of your kissing to respond, icily.

If you are pitying me, I will have none of it.

Are you in any position to refuse pity? Regardless, you do not have a choice. This elixir is of my making, so you must obey my commands. On the moon you will reside, and every year on this day, I will grant you the opportunity to see your beloved on this earth.

You leave one last kiss on your husband’s nose before you step back. Although you will be able to see him once a year, it feels… strange. You had promised yourself that, upon Mydei’s return, the two of you would be able to return to your normal routine and only be subjected to a few hours’ worth of separation every day. Even now, as you let your eyes linger over every centimeter of his face, you can tell that much of him has changed throughout his campaign, and before you have the chance to memorize his new contours and creases, it is you who must leave, by divinity’s demand, and you will never be able to know him as well as you once did.

How strange and twisted, you think, but for some reason, there is a distinct sense of acceptance within you. Perhaps the past two years have tested you, and you no longer fear fate’s outcomes because, at the very least, Mydei did the impossible in defeating Tian’s dwellers and survived. It might also be that you know Wang Mu Niang Niang is already demonstrating as much mercy as the heavens will allow, so even if you were to throw a fit or beg for more, the goddess herself would not be able to do anything. Or maybe, at one indistinguishable point, you unconsciously resigned yourself to the divine, and knowing that it will do anything it can to torment you, you have carried that grief along and never once set it down. This sudden unraveling of your life and the way you have known it to be has simply allowed that grief to surface, and you can only shake your head when faced with the darkened, disintegrating state of your heart.

You proceed to shuffle backwards, away from Mydei, until he is barely out of reach. You take the golden cuff that holds his front braid together, before you walk to the nearby courtyard where the rabbits reside. You uncover their burrow, unrooting purple forget-me-nots and creeping buttercups, and reach in to pull out the runt of the newest litter, no different from a solid figurine in your palm.

I am ready.

How strange, your choices. Explain to me, mortal.

There is not much to it. I suppose I find sentimentality in things that keep me going.

How bold of you, to not tell the truth in front of the likes of me.

You could force it out of me, if you so wish.

You watch as a staircase and railing of stardust, moonlight, and cosmic nothingness appear before your eyes in the middle of the courtyard, spiraling upwards and into the sky, ending somewhere far beyond where the moon hangs. You stare at Mydei’s braid cuff and the baby rabbit, which you notice is beginning to shiver, and you tuck both of them in the inside of your robe before ascending the first steps of the staircase.

As you climb, you notice the earth below you gradually resuming its time. A breeze brushes past the tips of your ears, and you delight in the perfume of fresh mint, blooming magnolias, and rose peonies it carries. In the distance, an owl hoots, and a pair of magpies flutter down to a pond you cannot see. You lose yourself to the natural order of the earth because, soon, you will leave this land.

Suddenly, a yell of your name draws you back. You lean over the railing and see that below, Mydei is gazing up at you. You can still make out the expression on his face – one of loss, desperation, and frustration. He is biting on his lower lip, and there are divots between his eyebrows. His eyes appear especially glossy and bright underneath the moon’s light.

Where are you going?

To the moon.

Can you come back down to me?

I cannot.

Your husband takes a few seconds before replying, and as you wait, the sound of grass blades ruffling and bats flying fill the silence.

I see. Then can I come up to you?

Wang Mu Niang Niang intercedes.

No. You will live out the rest of your life and die on this earth.

You and Mydei share a solemn look. Neither of you can say anything, as both of you have begun to weep, quiet tears clumping together eyelashes and rolling down the apples of your cheeks. But Mydei is also aware of the unforgiving reality that you may disappear at sudden, so with a shaky, breaking voice, he attempts to carry on the flow of the conversation, clinging onto any chance to hear his wife’s voice again.

When will I next see you?

Whenever the moon rises.

I will look up at the night sky every evening. And in person?

Every year, on this day, at this time.

I will meet with you every year. I swear.

I look forward to it, my love.

Are you cold? I am sure it is cold on the moon.

Do not worry. I have all that I need.

Wang Mu Niang Niang intercedes once more.

Enough of your idle chatter!

But the two of you carry on, because both of you have realized that Wang Mu Niang Niang is kind, and no longer are the two of you fearful of Tian or the divine or divinity as a whole. Rather, in the last, ticking seconds that you have, it is most important to cherish and express the unyielding, everlasting love you have for each other, as husband and wife. With soft, longing smiles, you utter the same sentence together.

We are forever –

– under the same sky.

Both of you press your fingers to your lips before extending your arms out towards each other, hoping that the full extent of your yearning, love, and devotion will be conveyed and reach the other. Then, with a flash of blinding white light, you disappear from Mydei’s sight.

You, of course, can still see him, but you will yourself to turn your chin away and climb up, up, up so that by tomorrow night, you will have made it to the moon, and Mydei will be able to see you from the window of your shared bedroom.

The world resumes, as if you were never there at all, as if time never stopped flowing. But Mydei knows you were real, are real. He reminds himself he need only survive tonight alone, and tomorrow, he will see you again, for the two of you can never be apart for too long.

And he is right because, by the decree of the heavenly gods above and their kindred spirits down on the earth in the forms of the water, leaves, wind, and destiny, you and Mydeimos are for each other, to always be intertwined and inseparable in this vast, vast universe.

–

“Lao Lao, why do we eat mooncakes during the Mid-Autumn Festival?” A little boy, no more than six- or seven-years-old sits at the dining table, feet kicking back and forth as they dangle off the edge of a chair meant for an adult. On the table, there is an array of emptied pots and plates, evidence of a large and festive meal devoured. Sitting directly across from him on the other side is his maternal grandmother.

“Because the lady on the moon likes them,” the grandma replies, preoccupied with tearing apart the packaging of a mooncake, which she hands to her grandson.

“Why do we care about the lady on the moon?”

The grandma’s eyebrows furrow. “Aye, Duo Duo, watch what you say! It is an important cultural celebration.”

“But why?”

“So many questions! She saved her husband, alright?”

“What happened to her husband?”

The grandson watches his grandma pause before recalling, “He was murdered by his student with a club made out of a peach tree.”

“Woah, that’s oddly specific. Did the husband love the lady on the moon?”

“Of course! Do you know nothing about the Mid-Autumn Festival? Before his death, the husband would burn incense and stare up at the moon every night to see his wife, and every year, today was the only day he could meet his wife in person. That is why we honor our ancestors during this festival, because we are closest to them now.”

The grandson shrugs, having lost interest halfway through his grandma’s explanation, romance lost on his inexperienced shoulders. “Sounds weird.”

“Duo Duo!”

The grandson ignores his grandma and pries open his mooncake. “Wait, Lao Lao, can you eat the yolk for me?”

“Aiyah, just eat it all yourself!”

244 notes · View notes

atlaculture · 2 months ago

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Hello!! Firstly, I love your blog, thank you so much for providing such useful and interesting information! Secondly, how was pirate culture in the Qing dynasty? Especially in regards to their clothes. I'd like to make an Earth Kingdom pirate oc, so I've been taking some inspiration from Jiang from the comics and Ching Shih, a famous pirate, but I'd love to see any information you could provide about this topic! Thank you!

What a neat question! The pirate culture during the Qing Dynasty was really interesting. Since I know I have a lot of historical fashion fans following this blog, I'll show you the inspiration board I created first and then try to connect it to the Avatar world. If you're interested in the history of Qing-era pirates or the greater context behind my clothing recommendations, you can click on the "Keep Reading" line.

So what might the pirates of the Qing Dynasty have worn?

Since Qing Dynasty pirates spent most of their time in the South China Sea and docked along the China-Vietnam borderlands--- both the Qing Dynasty and the Tây Sơn Dynasty had employed these pirates at different points in time--- they were likely a mix of Chinese and Vietnamese culturally, if not ethnically. Their clothing would reflect this, as well as incorporating fabrics and cuts that would be suitable for a tropical climate. In general, their wardrobe would be very Southeast Asian in style.

Since you seem to be designing a female OC, I figured I'd make a collage of clothing and accessories that a Qing Dynasty lady pirate might have.

Headwear

Khăn lươn (Vietnamese Women's Headwrap) - Used to keep hair neat and out of the way. It's like a halfway point between a turban and a hairband.

Khăn mỏ quạ (Vietnamese Women's Headscarf) - A bandana that Vietnamese women would wear over their Khăn lươn to shield their hair from the sun. It literally means "Crow's Beak Scarf", because the bandana forms a triangle shape at the front.

Mũ chữ Đinh (Vietnamese Military Officer's Hat) - Many Qing Dynasty pirates would offer their services to the Tây Sơn Dynasty (Vietnamese) navy. I can imagine some pirates wearing these hats as a spoil of war.

Nón lá (Asian Conical Hat) - A traditional hat that is commonly worn in Asia by any profession that labors outside. It's probably the hat most associated with East and Southeast Asia.

Đinh Tự (Vietnamese Women's Hat) - A giant, wide-brimmed hat made from dried palm leaves--- it's basically an Asian conical hat on steroids. Whereas the nón lá is relatively gender-neutral, the dinh tự is considered a feminine hat.

Tops

Yếm / Dudou (Vietnamese/Chinese Halter Top) - Fun Fact: Its original purpose was to keep the belly warm, as the stomach is the sea of chi!

Áo gấm (Vietnamese Tunic) - A thin overcoat worn over the yếm. It's often fastened with a sash.

Áo bà ba (Vietnamese Folk Shirt) - A lightweight shirt with slits on the side.

Suoyi (Chinese Folk Raincoat) - A cloak made out of local materials such as palm leaves and grass. It was also worn by laborers in Vietnam, Japan, and Korea.

Bottoms

Kangkeng Le (Thai Fisherman Pants) - They're from Thailand, but I've seen them worn in other parts of Southeast Asia.

Váy (Vietnamese Skirt)

Miscellaneous Speculation

Kiềng (Vietnamese Gold Necklace) - Traditionally, gold or silver Vietnamese/Chinese necklaces were solid rings of metal, rather than being composed of small chain links like European necklaces. I imagine a powerful Asian pirate queen would wear at least three kiềng necklaces.

Tattoos - Since Confucian cultures traditionally considered body modification (including cutting your own hair) to be a sign of rebellion and criminality, tattoos would be the perfect status symbol for an Asian pirate! For a uniquely Vietnamese look, you could try incorporating ancient Vietnamese (Dong Son style) patterns to your design. Alternatively, they could have "protection charm" tattoos on their body, to ensure that the spirits watch over them while at sea or during battle.

Cormorants (Fishing Birds) - Historically, the fishermen of China and Vietnam have trained these species of bird to catch fish for them. I think it would be really cool if your pirate OC had some bird companions.

Weapons

Going to lean into the Vietnamese influence for the weapons as well. Most Vietnamese weapons were heavily inspired by Chinese weapons, but with uniquely Vietnamese touches. Generally, these weapons tended to have more tapered blades, metal engravings with floral patterns, and rattan-corded grips with smaller guards compared to their Chinese counterparts.

Dadao/Trường đao (Chinese/Vietnamese Machetes)

Jian/Kiem (Chinese/Vietnamese Doubled-Edged Swords)

Changdao/Guőm truòng (Chinese/Vietnamese Two-Handed Swords) - Fun fact: These swords were really popular with Chinese and Japanese pirates during the Ming Dynasty, as well.

Niuweidao - I don't think there's a Vietnamese version of Oxtail Sabers. Anyways, I've discussed Zuko's trademark swords at length elsewhere. They're civilian weapons that look very pirate-y to me.

Who would the Earth Kingdom pirates be? How would they make a living?

It has been shown that their is a Vietnam analog in the EK, as I've posted about before. The Swampbenders have some Vietnamese inspiration, as well. So the main base operations for EK pirates might have been that EK village that Zuko and Iroh begged in. Maybe the jerk that Zuko stole the swords from was a pirate.

Considering that Froggy Swamp denizens and other Water Tribers would probably be marginalized by EK society, I think their would be good reason for them to become pirates. Especially since waterbending would obviously be a very useful skill to have at sea. Also, since the Northern Water Tribe is shown to be a bit sexist, I could see the surprisingly not-as-sexist world of EK piracy being especially appealing to the ladies of the NWT. As far as EK natives go, farmers and fishermen who've been displaced by the Fire Nation would probably also turn to piracy. Similarly, jaded or corrupt Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation naval officers might switch to piracy, as well. What drives a person to piracy would definitely inform their clothing choices and weaponry.

Like the real-life pirates of the Qing Dynasty, Earth Kingdom pirates likely have no real national loyalties. If you paid them enough, they'd be willing to fight for either the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom. You also have to pay them off to cross their territory unscathed. Pirates raid merchant and military ships alike. For refugees who could afford it, they likely paid pirates to smuggle them into Ba Sing Se. Pirates probably also smuggled goods between nations, as well as drugs.

I also think Earth Kingdom pirates would worship water-related spirits, like Yue (+ the Ocean Spirit) or the Painted Lady. Perhaps they'd lay out offerings to spirit alters they'd have onboard or even "feed" the offerings to the seas themselves.

The Greater Context of Chinese Qing Dynasty Piracy

Who were the pirates of the Qing Dynasty?

The pirates of Qing Dynasty were predominantly made up of former farmers and fishermen. During this period, population growth in China lead to land shortages and many farmers lost their land either from being unable to keep up with rising taxes or outright theft from corrupt officials. Fishermen turned to piracy when fishing could no longer guarantee their survival, especially with European pirates and colonial ships invading their waters. In general, extreme poverty drove people to piracy.

Also, Chinese pirates were surprisingly more accepting of female leadership than men from more "respectable" parts of society. This is due to the fishermen roots of many pirates. Traditionally, when a fisherman died, his wife was expected to take over his boat and crew. Also, the two most prominent patron Chinese gods of seafarers are goddesses, Guanyin and Mazu.

What did these pirates do?

Qing Dynasty pirates were a unique fusion of bandit, mercenary, and drug smuggler. Obviously, if you planned on sailing through pirate-infested waters, you had better pay off the pirates to be left unscathed. Otherwise, your ship was getting plundered.

Qing pirates also offered up their talent for violence to the highest bidder during times of war. In the 18th century, Imperial Vietnam would frequently hire and train up Southern Chinese pirates to assist their fleets during naval battles. Those who earned merit during these conflicts would even be granted official military titles. In 1857, the Chinese government would even employ these same South Sea pirates to take down the Portuguese pirates terrorizing their waters.

Finally, as Qing Dynasty piracy reached its epoch at the same time as the First Opium War, Chinese pirates participated in a lot of drug smuggling. As pirates have no loyalty, they had no issue serving as middle-men in the profitable European drug trade.

Where were these pirates found?

The South China Sea was the stomping ground for Qing-era pirates, particularly the Gulf of Tonkin. In terms of ports and towns, they tended to spend a lot of time in the border areas where China met Vietnam. Remember that these pirates offered their services to both Imperial Vietnam and Imperial China, so they didn't exactly have national loyalties.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #atlaculture #earth kingdom #vietnam #cultural fashion #cultural weapons #I went a bit overboard with this post #no pun intended #I'm just really into the idea of incorporating more Southeast Asian cultures into the ATLAverse #I also just think outlaws are kind of neat #replies

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baka-bakeneko · 2 years ago

Text

Don't Stop Now - Wade Wilson x Fem! Reader [NSFW]

tags: MDNI, comic version Wade Wilson, quick recovery, dominant Wade Wilson, sub reader, face-sitting, squirting, enthusiastic consent, body appreciation, mating press

word count: 3.3k

synopsis: Round two of marathon s-e-x series; Wade's not holding back now.

a/n: be honest with me rn, are you a fan of wade wilson?

You rolled to belch over your shoulder after Wade grabbed you a beer from the fridge. The two of you had slammed through the chinese food, leaving egg roll crumbs on the bed sheets only adding insult to the damp injury.

Upon stretching your arm out, you noticed a red fabric tucked just under the mattress. Wade leaned over you, ghosting his lips along your stomach and ribcage before planting a firm one just under your right breast.

"Where you goin'?" He asked, his voice a delightful gruff. Your hand touched at the back of his head, only encouraging his action before you grabbed the fabric and pulled it free.

You held it in your palm, staring at the red bunch of fabric with black ovals stitched into it. You hummed at the fabric, wondering what it was before Wade's lips found your nipple and generously suckled.

"Ah," you whimpered, holding his head to your chest before running your fingers down the back of his neck. "Wade, quit."

"Why?" Wade asked as you restuffed the fabric under the mattress. "You love it."

You rolled your eyes, stretching out over the rest of the bed. Your legs melted apart as Wade's hand skirted along your waist, savoring every inch of your bare skin before teasing a finger down to your slit.

You hid a soft wince, your hand going for his wrist. "Hey, easy. I'm rubbed raw."

"So sensitive?" He puled, teasing you as his mouth moved between your breasts. "Are you done for the night?"

The thought was tempting, especially with the chinese food and beer now sitting like a deadweight in your stomach. You grumbled, relishing in the attention of Wade's scarred lips against your skin.

You craned your neck to look at him, tilting your chin to beg for his kiss. Wade smirked, stretching his body over yours to kiss you, catching your bottom lip between his with a tender nibble.

You hummed, rolling your hips up to feel Wade slotted between your legs. His cock began hardening against your stomach, his tip nudging along your belly button.

When he pulled away, you groaned and dropped your head back down over the edge of the bed. Though your body was now too full and elated to keep going, you shifted back onto the bed and reached for your beer over the foot end.

Tilting the can back, you took a long swig as Wade's lips started dotting upwards to your neck.

"I know I get you for a year, but I feel like I'd waste a second," he whispered as he touched your sides.

You shut your eyes and focused deeply on Wade's touch, his burnt fingers tender and trembling. When he got to your shoulder, he paused and held himself there. He inhaled through his nose, exhaled over your skin before pursing his lips with another kiss.

You smiled, finishing off the droplets of your beer then turned to Wade. You kissed his temple, nudged your nose against his forehead.

"I dunno, I feel like I might belch in your face. Not romantic of you to fill a girl full of sodium then ask her to fuck."

Wade chuckled, resting his cheek to your shoulder. "That's where you're wrong. I, for one, would love for you to belch in my face."

You hid a roll of your eyes, leaning to kiss Wade again. You looked over the bed, speckled with crumbs and soy sauce stains against the mess you two made earlier.

Wade's fingers slipped between your thighs, touching at your pussy timidly. You gasped sharply, tilting your head against your free shoulder.

"Let me clean up at least, I can't fuck on food. That's my hard pass."

Wade grinned, shaking his head on your shoulder. "I'm not ruining another set of sheets, waterworks. I'll eat the crumbs off your ass."

You reared up from Wade and onto your knees, shrugging him off of you. Pushing to stand, you leaned over him and kissed his cheek.

"That's sweet," your teeth grazed playfully at his skin, taking a tender nibble at him. "Too sweet."

Wade groaned and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms out over the edge of his bed. You stared at him, his eyes trained on you, and smirked.

Your gaze slowly drifted down his form, taking in each puckered inch of his skin before backing away from the bed. "Stay put, okay? I'll be right back."

Wade nodded, tilting his head back further to watch you from this new angle. "I'll keep your seat warm for you," he teased, reaching a hand out to offer a tender stroke to his cock.

You hid a deep groan, backing into the bathroom again to freshen up. Your hips ached at the thought of spreading for Wade again, but the sluggish trail of yours and his cum was tickling its way down your inner thigh.

Turning around, you marched into the bathroom to pee and clean up as best as you could, taking water from the sink to rinse the sweat from your face.

When you returned, the bed was empty except for Wade now resting in the center of it. The sheets were cleaned to the best of Wade's ability and the chinese food and empty beers were moved back to the kitchen.

"You didn't have to do all that," you crooned to Wade, now sat up on his elbow and resuming the stroke of his cock.

"Kitten wants a clean bed to fuck on, kitten gets a clean bed," he said with a bit of his bottom lip. "Feel better?"

You nodded softly, standing before the edge of the bed. Wade turned his free hand upwards to edge his finger at you, a 'come hither' motion that you could feel in your core.

"Wanna go again?" he asked, his voice a distinct pinch of grit and almost exhaustion.

You cooed at his question, your body ready to cave into his and feel his skin all over yours. You furrowed your brows slightly, tilting your head as you crawled over him.

"Are you tired?" You whispered, pressing your lips to the center of his chest, then another time at the base of his neck.

"N-no, no, I can go again," Wade responded, shaking his head slightly. He flopped onto his back and tilted his chin at you. "Can you?"

You narrowed your eyes playfully at him. "As long as you can."

Wade grinned then, his perfect white teeth gleaming. "Like I'd rather sleep."

You hummed, leaning down to kiss him as you hitched your leg over his waist. "I could go all night then."

A deep grumble emanated from Wade's chest into yours, both of his hands resting at the backs of your thighs. He eased you back an inch, allowed your wet pussy to graze the heat of his cock. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, arching your hips to get even closer to it, to him.

"Not yet," he whispered, shifting you away from him with a soft wince. "I got a better seat for you." Wade urged softly.

You furrowed your brows, sitting just above Wade's cock.

He smirked and tapped your thighs, instructing you silently to move further up his body. When you shifted a bit further up Wade's chest but stopped, he chuckled.

"Kitten," he purred out, resting two fingers to his chin. "Right here."

Your eyes widened at him. "No, no Wade I can't."

You tried to squirm away the thought, your pussy still betraying your mind.

Wade groaned, his free hand sliding to the front of your hip as his thumb pet at your slit. "You're thinking about it."

You folded your hands up to your chest, holding your palms over your breasts. "I-I can't. I don't want to crush you."

Wade leveled his brows, his smile genuine. "What a hell of way to go if you did. I can see the obit now. 'Wade Wilson ate pussy so hard that his girlfriend crushed his head. His and said girlfriend's orgasms were quoted as: 'awesome', before Wilson died from significant thigh squeezing.'"

You scoffed at his response, reaching to swat his chest. "Now I definitely won't do it, I don't want to be the one to kill you."

Wade hid a deep roll of his eyes, tilting his chin up to elongate his neck with a groan. "Would you please come sit on my face for a minute? If you hate it, I'll eat you out the old fashioned way."

You cut your eyes to the ceiling, dropping your hands to brace his chest. "One minute, okay? I don't want to suffocate you."

Wade was absolutely giddy at your agreement, waiting as you crawled on your knees up to his neck before a shaky breath escaped your mouth. You raised up on your knees, watching Wade level his chin before you rolled your hips forward and grazed your lips to Wade's.

"F-fuck," you whimpered, edging your knees to either side of Wade's head, brushing his ears to your inside thighs. "One minute."

Wade grinned, the bottom of his face disappearing under your hips. "Just let me mouth fuck you."

His hands curled around the back of your thighs, holding you down to his face. Wade opened his mouth and instantly probed his tongue into you, his nose nudging against your twitching clit.

"Yes," you whimpered, instantly folding at the warmth that radiated through you from Wade's hot mouth.

Your hand went for the top of Wade's head, trying to force his wet, morphous tongue further into you as your thighs twitched around him. You tightened your muscles, thinking hard to not meltdown over Wade's neck.

Not to mention he called you his girlfriend. You rutted softly against his open mouth, feeling his lips kiss back at your pussy while his tongue curled in a steady motion inside of you.

"You," you began, looking down to Wade and immediately meeting his gaze. His molten glare shot through your back and you trembled over him. What you wouldn't give to let him have his last desserts, just to show what he was doing to you. "You called me your girlfriend."

Wade cocked a brow at you, rubbing his nose to your clit while he nosily slurped at your juices. Your hand on his head twitched, nudging his face a bit further into you.

You threw your head back with a loud whimper, no longer holding back your noises for Wade's sake.

"Am I...?" you began to ask, only for Wade's fingers to slip into your pussy just alongside his tongue.

You began to see stars, your eyes crossing at the feeling instilled in you from Wade. 'Boyfriend' was moving a bit fast, but this man was definitely on his way to seeing what you thought of him every day you could.

"I'll be yours," you whined, cried to the ceiling as loud as your body would let you. The fluttery feeling along your back soared up and caught you with all the heat just below you. "If you'll be mine."

At that utterance, you rocked your hips once and sealed your fate. Your hands braced your thighs, trying your hardest to stay upright though your strength was fleeting.

You tried to back off of Wade's face but found yourself locked in by Wade's arms around your legs; your thighs twitched, your body convulsing softly at the heat continuing to lash through your orgasm.

It was almost torturous, trying to pry Wade's face from your pussy before your stomach tightened and you contracted just along his chin, effectively drowning him in your wet.

Your vision suddenly went dizzy, still being catered to by Wade's hot, even wetter mouth now. You were ready to tap out, your pussy no longer soft and hot but now throbbing and aching.

"Wade," you mewed, finally gaining an inch to pry yourself off of Wade with your remaining knee strength.

Wade popped his two fingers into his mouth, sucking the essence of you as you unhitched your leg from his head. "Like I said, hell of a way to go."

He sat up on his elbow again as you sat just against his waist. You were convulsing now, leaning into Wade's chest and resting your forehead to his shoulder. The wisps of euphoria in your body made you twitch, curling into the man's beautiful burned chest.

Wade ran his hand down your back, admiring the curve of your spine before wiping his mouth of your juices then licking his palm clean.

"That was..." you tried to say.

"Too hot, even for you?" Wade asked, attempting to finish your statement.

His damp palm reached out and gripped his cock, stroked it slowly. "I was about to cum all over your back if you kept squirming."

You exhaled deeply, your hips instinctively angling to wriggle against Wade's stroking hand. "You should've."

Wade hummed, leaning into your ear to whisper. "I'm saving it for when I'm balls deep in you."

You groaned at the thought, raising your head up to meet his lips. "That was good. I'd love to cum on this face for the next year."

He offered a peck to your lips, his swollen and wet. You could taste yourself from his kiss, intoxicated on sharing spit the same.

His free hand combed through your hair, shifting you to your side before pulling away. "I'd like that a lot."

Wade shifted next to you, his arms curling around your waist with appreciative touches. "Do you want to keep going?"

Your eyes fluttered at his question, loving every time Wade asked. His tone was almost eager but muted, ready to go along with every word you offered him. Slowly, you tempted your knee to Wade's hip, spreading your legs just above his at-attention cock.

"Please," you begged softly, dropping an arm back to the bed and stretching your body out before him.

Wade's brows furrowed softly, dipping his mouth to your chest and taking your nipple between his lips. You flinched at his warmth, your hand returning to the back of Wade's head to hold him close to you.

You whimpered, edging your knee up further.

Wade's tip grazed against your pussy, causing it to flex in response. You angled your hips closer to him, slowly spearing yourself onto his cock.

Your other hand reached out for his shoulder, pulling him closer to you. Wade released your nipple and worked on the other one, taking your breast in his hand to massage it circles as he sank into you.

You angled your hips up to accomodate more of him, releasing a long drawn moan to the entire apartment. Wade chuckled, pulling away from your breast with your nipple tenderly bit between his lips.

When he parted from it, a line of spit twinkled from his bottom lip to your nipple. He leaned into your neck, opening his mouth to lick a thick stripe at the meet of your clavicle.

"Oh kitten, my neighbors are gonna love you," he teased, his hands taking grip of your hips. "I want you to be so fucking loud."

You felt a streak of blush on your cheeks as sweat beaded on your forehead; your arms crossed under Wade's shoulders, trying to hold his hot body close to yours.

You only nodded to his sentiment as he held your hips steady as he pulled out slowly then reversed back. You licked your lips and turned your head in Wade's direction.

Wade lifted his head as he shifted his knees to the bed, driving your hips closer to him until he was fully inside. He rolled his eyes at driving into you, tilting his head back with a low moan.

"Damn, this pussy is insane," Wade groaned, sliding his hands down your thighs to pull up to his waist.

You dropped your hands over your head, watching Wade start a pace as he folded your legs along his sides. Then he leaned back over you and you lost a sliver of your sanity.

"Shit," you whispered, feeling Wade sink deeper into you while the backs of your thighs burned as they were pressed to your chest.

"That feel good?" Wade asked, his hands planted on either side of your head.

You lost your breath, driven to a pant as your hands reached to cradle Wade's face. You stared deeply into his eyes, pulling him closer with your lips parted to breathe against his mouth.

You tried to speak but were silenced by Wade's steady pace, his hips rolling and slapping against you while his cock roused your g-spot.

All you could do was nod along with his strokes, your eyes crossing while you got lost in his fluid movements and accuracy to pleasure.

"Baby," you whispered before Wade's lips, "So good. Go slower."

"I'm going..." Wade breathed down your neck, spotting kisses along your shoulders and between your breasts. "to savor you."

Wade caught your lips in a kiss, molding his tongue along yours while he rocked slowly. A heat built up between your stomachs, your eyes rolling at the tender upscale slope that came with each long stroke.

Your hands curled around his shoulders, edging your knees tighter to your body to allow him further until he was tapping right where he needed to.

"Wade," you moaned, pulling away from his mouth with a soft smack.

Your hands pressed tight between his shoulders, arching your back and rolling your hips to meet his thrusts before you cascaded over.

You reached out to the small of his back, silently willing his hips to stop as your pussy throbbed on his cock and you came with a loud string of moans.

Wade groaned just before you, his eyes trained on your face scrunched in pleasure as he shortened his thrusts to find his own peak.

"I know you got something for me, waterworks," Wade teased softly, ignoring your hand placed just along his back to resume his pace.

You coiled on him, your knees twitching and losing their position close to your chest; he faltered slightly at your still-pulsing pussy and froze, letting it drive him to his orgasm.

"Shit," he began with a low gasp of air. "I almost had you too."

You hid a roll of your eyes, letting your legs fall to the mattress as Wade rested his weight on top of you. "I almost let you, too."

He chuckled lowly, raising his body up on his elbow to peer down at you. "You don't know how badly I want to make you do that...every single time."

Your heart skipped at that, sitting up after Wade. "Please don't, my pussy can't take that."

"Aww," Wade began, kissing at your cheek. He gently pulled out, slipping down your body to between your propped up legs. "Let me apologize?"

You wriggled away from Wade, trying to clench the cum seeping out of you from ruining more of the bed. "Not this time."

Wade smacked his teeth in mocking disappointment. "Damn, maybe later."

You hummed in response, looking around the apartment before finding the same towel from the previous session. You reached for it on the floor, pulling it up and sliding your ass over it.

Wade sat back from you, eyes trained between your legs as it slid down between your lips and met with the towel. He hid a gulp, taking grip of his cock and folding it to his thigh.

"Fuck, that's hot." Wade whispered, hissing at the sight before prying himself from staring and shifting off of the bed.

You watched as he crossed the room to the kitchen, opening the fridge for two more beers then popping two egg rolls into his mouth on his way back to the bed.

"Power snack," he muttered, pulling one egg roll from his mouth and offering it to you.

"How chivalrous," you smiled, taking the egg roll then the beer he offered just the same.

"Gotta keep that energy up," Wade said, chewing through his egg roll before pressing his greasy lips to your temple. "We got all night to get through."

#deadpool x you #deadpool x reader #deadpool #fan work #fanfic #fanwork #comic deadpool #mss: bakeneko #bakeneko #wade wilson x you #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson

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littlepuddingsworld · 7 months ago

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Okay, this is going to sound insane, but please hear me out.

In the 19th century, there were doctors who specialised in curing "female hysteria", which was often just misdiagnosed sexual frustration (Whenever women were too out of control for men to handle, it was diagnosed as hysteria. So it was basically anything, sexual frustration included...). The cure was fingering...yeah. It was relatively normalised to, as a doctor, finger someone's wife...quite a way to make a living. There was basically a handbook written in Latin about how you do it (oil up your hand, insert here, there will be muscle contraction, the lady in question will breathe heavily before ultimately having a hysteria paroxysm (this is a former medical term for orgasms btw)). Obviously, there were mixed opinions about giving another man's wife an orgasm, however, the Catholic doctors concluded that it cannot have been sexual, since there was no penetration. "It's our duty as doctors to cure these poor women of their hysteria, Sir 🫡"

FUN FACT: Since some doctors would experience wrist pain from the...hard manual labour, they invented a device that does it for them: The vibrator. When the vibrator was first used in pornography, the doctors said NOPE and left their profession behind. In 2011, there was a period romcom made about this called Hysteria. It's not even that bad, unironically. Oh and by the way, the name hysteria is derived from the Greek word hystera, meaning uterus, hence why only women were diagnosed with hysteria.

Anyway, getting to my point:

Imagine a yandere thinking that you're being incredibly hysterical, emotional, out of control and then proceeding to sit you down and curing you of your hysteria the old-fashioned way...

They either do it knowingly, or are just too oblivious to even realise that what they are doing is...not quite the correct solution for the problems they caused you in the first place...

Just wanted to share this with someone...take it as you will...

,,, to be honest, I knew about the hysteria, but I didn't know about the fact that a vibrator was created that way,,,, sexy big brain<3333 i love your words so much, mercury kissed you at birth,,,, very brainy, very many cerebral convolutions, I love it,,, come here to kith kith pretty pie—

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

your husband is so sweet, so adorable — especially when he's on his knees in front of you, purring something about how he should help you, as if it's not his personal fault that you feel like this.

... ♡ unhealthy relationship, misconception of the century / time, hierarchical society, mild sexism? (more classism?), mild maledom elements, mention of religion, forced marriage implied, male pregnancy mentioned because no pregnant reader, unethical treatment methods?; doctor!noble!husband x darling!reader

dubious consent (dubcon) -> consensual sex, crying, mild sadism/masochism, mention of degradation (g.), hair pulling (g.), oral sex (r.), mild fingering (r.), praise (r.)

If THEODORE had been told that he was "mistreating his darling spouse", he would have

agreed.

It was logical: if he treated you well, then would you enter into a frenzy of emotions, scream and look as if you were about to faint before falling at a table made of pleasantly smelling wood, — Theodore knew that you love this variety; almost all tables, chairs and other wooden utensils was of this sort, — completely exhausted, unable even to drive away your narrow-minded husband, only waving a fragile palm in his direction, as if desperate, while he took your fan, straight from the hands of the best chinese craftsmen, and gently fanned you, letting you hang head? Of course not.

You, his breathtaking spouse, were so touching and gentle, full of spring charm and a few drops of exquisite, expensive coquetry, like the first flowers in spring — delicate, almost transparent, not at all like the luxury of scarlet roses that gardeners grow every season, or the exuberant scent of lilac and juniper, especially in July. Not at all. Your charm was subtle, unique, corresponding to the rumbling of the first rivers or the first drop falling from the roofs after the melting of the snow. You have never been a socialite — never; parents were rich enough to support you and your siblings, but not rich enough to live in idleness and not worry about money.

You were introduced at the first ball and attended others from time to time, but most of the time you couldn't afford to walk around with "old dresses", not wanting to be considered poor or shame family by not being able to buy new clothes. Theodore understood perfectly well — being from a not-so-rich family, somehow coping with this whole world, you simply could not afford to live bohemian, expensive and shameless out of fear that money was too little, as if you did not even think that you could just marry someone rich and sponsor with their help your family. Theodore didn't blame, having heard about you for the first time from the mouths of other dandies who follow every new "coquette fan", more than an eloquent sign of finding a partner, though; "too conscientious and didn't understand how this world works" or just a prude,

but now, he understands that you just knew your worth and waited for someone like

him.

After all, in a world where divorce can only happen after death, and infidelity is punished by an enraged spouse with a knife, how could you easily marry someone? You were so alluring, like ripe peaches filled with juice — naturally, not everyone can and should touch your delicate, perfumed hands and caress skin so soft that no overseas silk can compare.

Theodore was sure that there were words about you: "If the cost of their kiss was hell, // then I will kiss their lips, // so that in hell I can brag to the devils // that I was in heaven without even entering it." Because you were paradise, it didn't matter if you smiled, cried or screamed — or were "not a couple who deserved," but only because you could have become the monarch's spouse right away, but he found you earlier.

He had no doubt that you were special — definitely to him. Therefore, he did not think long before he came to your parents to take you to his estate, in the sweetly itchy haste of first and only love, kissing your hands and touching the slightly trembling fan with thin fingers while you looked down in frightened amazement, while your parents confusedly exchanged glances, not understanding why he came to "court you". Theodore did not ask if you had someone — after all, if you had, you would rather slit your throat than let another touch your thin fingers, because he would have done exactly the same in your place if he were still a dependent young man (now, of course, he was not — having studied at a very prestigious university, where his parents also studied, he was more than an enviable independent bachelor and knew it). And if earlier he was afraid that, what if!, was not "normal", then when saw you, he knew that he had been waiting for you all this time — and you were undoubtedly waiting for him too.

If, in order to be with you, he had to refuse the sky, the sun and the moon, he would do it without hesitation. This is love — Theodore had no doubt that you yourself understand this.

Your parents, however, soon dispelled his prejudices. You didn't just "didn't understand it" — you weren't like that, but Theodore, hesitating only for a few seconds, realized that you just weren't like everyone else. While others were blinded by love, like him, you couldn't be like that — you just didn't understand it, didn't feel like that, and your parents were only afraid that your "defect" in the marriage market would make you lonely for the rest of days.

Theodore, however, did not think so: you were the same age as him, he was childless, unmarried, rich and educated, had an estate with intelligent and trained servants, good sources of income, a lot of free time, did not have the habit of drinking a lot of alcohol or tobacco, — and the fact that you were allegedly "not sensual enough" was, of course, stupidity. He wasn't going to use the fact that you can't pick up a knife to kill an unfaithful spouse! And I wasn't going to cheat! He won't do any harm! Yes, you may be a little... very very little defective-ish, but isn't love blind? He will accept you at any cost, even with such a... 'setback'.

... Of course, it is wrong and even abnormal that you cannot kill someone who is cheating on you, and are not ready to die just to be with someone you love, and that it is wild for you to give up everything for your beloved... But Theodore understands that you are already too perfect, and it's okay to have flaws. He's not thirteen anymore.

As long as this is not passed on to children, everything will be fine, please, don't worry, ma joie, — he gently whispers to you, touching gloved fingers, stroking fingers gently, looking into your very happy face ? — I'll accept you for who you are, even with this. With everything. Because you and I, being whole by ourselves, become more than just "ourselves" together.

And it was true, don't get him wrong! His pedigree was good, he was, uh, "thoroughbred," and his family tree was beautiful, worthy of your hand. Theodore was not self-confident, but he was confident, buying everything you want, not walking through salons and entertainment houses and not being in any dubious circles, his entourage was only intelligent people who had an education and could both write and read, and not in two languages, and there was no one in his circle someone of the same gender, and he wasn't squeamish or suspicious. After all, what else can you worry about? But you were worried. Over time, it's even a little noisy.

You shouted, sometimes threw yourself, behaved strangely, as if he was not a refined learned man who was your shadow and wrote poetry to you, not forcing you to do anything even after your approved marriage, but a brute or an invader. Did he take you away without permission? Perhaps using his status in society to a little and influence your parents with children who have not yet appeared to the beau monde, and used a little influence to convince these people that he will help your siblings in the future to find a better match than they can now count on — but then why does he need it: status, influence, reputation, — if he can't even convince his love to stay with him? Otherwise, you can't blame—

... Oh wait.

You can.

Theodore realizes with annoyance, sitting hs office with a book in hands, writing notes in diary, and adjusts his glasses: he had completely forgotten — you're "not like that." You're different. Your parents told him. You understand love differently, you look at your partner differently, you cannot understand the concept of love itself... Theodore used to think that they just raised you wrong, but now he understands what they meant: that the feelings that ordinary people spend on a partner, you leave inside, letting them accumulate, and when you realize that you can no longer, you emotionally explode and behave as if something is wrong with him or you — it's obvious! You just can't do it any other way! Of course, why else would you be unhappy with your situation? After all, it's natural that your family hardly communicates with you or that you can't spend a lot of time outside the house — everyone lives like that, except the unmarried! You just don't understand it!

Because you are so emotional, so sensitive, so responsive, that, naturally, you need special care and care, and not a sidelong glance from your husband, who behaved so coldly, only supporting, but not helping you in any way! After all, he studied at the best university, was one of the best students, even had an internship and, of course, corresponded with his comrades, learning new ways to deal with diseases and disorders. After all, what kind of "good husband" is he if he can't even help his gentle, easily excitable spouse cope with their, he's not afraid of that word, illness?

You just don't understand...

“... Darling, we need to make one thing.”

You are gentle, soft, not submissive — both in clothes and under them, and although you may consider him a little pathetic when he whispers it to you, burying cold nose in your thigh like a lost dog, but after shouting and throwing things, you are no longer so full of destructive energy. Holding him tightly by the hair, you look down with pursed lips, but do not answer anything — and in expensive clothes, with jewelry, sleek and clearly not deprived of the love and affection of a bohemian husband, you look like a deity that descended from heaven.

Theodore knows that he must decontaminate for sure, but what can a spouse hide from a spouse, right? After all, you are more than a "single whole", especially when he is sitting on his lap, no problem as long as you are sitting on a chair made of your favorite wood, soft and comfortable enough, allowing him to carefully get rid of excess clothes without disgrace, looking at how thin lips touch your skin in a respectfully pious way.

Even your heavy breathing from the outburst of emotions sounds like music that should be played in the church if they want the heavenly ambassadors to descend.

Is he too "sugary"?

No, he's just a realist.

“Darling, please...”

You don't push away even when fingers gently touch your thighs like feathers, just frowning a little harder. But not by pushing it away. You are smart, you always have been, and, of course, you yourself understand that you are sick, and only he, as your husband and doctor, can help you. It's natural. Why do you need another men- or women- another doctor? How dare someone else touch you? Only you can touch him and only he can touch you. He's yours — a husband, a doctor, anyone. As soon as you become healthier, he will definitely be your lover — and maybe one day you will take a child or will he carry it. After all, how dare he sleep with you and use you, so gentle and airy, like a messenger from heaven, while you are so deeply ill, not even really knowing what love is and how to react to it?

“Darling... It's just a little help. Just say the word and we'll stop anytime. I don't want to harm my spouse, you know... Besides, you can always stop me by force.”

You yourself spread your warm, soft, almost plush thighs while he meekly looks up from the bottom, trying to unobtrusively encourage you to let him just look a little. Theodore was not an expert on issues related to sex life or the influence of genitals on human behavior, — although, undoubtedly!, it was important, but he preferred less dirty things, — but now, kneeling in front of you on a soft carpet, stroking your skin, it did not seem something vile or dirty, animal, but for some reason pleasant and... airy-natural; the very sight made him want not to wince and turn away, but not to look away, even when you pull his hair harder, frowning, clearly not too willing to continue this, but it's better than if he drags you to someone else.

You knew yourself that your husband sometimes got too involved with the human body in a not too, uh, "harmless" sense, but it was never dangerous or illegal, unless against the law of god, so you let him correspond with 'friends' and 'colleagues', studying new diseases and learning more about experience and practice. But if you knew that one day you would be the subject of research, you would definitely throw his ink and letters into the fireplace — along with other things.

“Mi único... I want to help... Do you know what hysteria is? This is when a darling behaves very much... emotionally because of the internal tension. And so we have recently come up with a... new way to deal with similar diseases. It can help our marriage... Te quaeso?”

Theodore is not an idiot; rather, he feels like a trainer or a tamer, gently pushing and touching, without making any sudden movements while you look at him, gradually relaxing the tense body, letting his fingers, slightly slippery from oil and disinfectants, touch the delicate skin of the inner thigh, massaging and stroking, not hurrying. He doesn't have much experience — practically none, you never shared a bed even after the "wedding night", — but there is enough theory and ideas how to use it, especially when thin, slightly cool fingers slowly touch the skin under stomach, stroke as lightly as possible along a sensitive line, kissing with warmed lips the skin. If he could, he'd love to just open his mouth and eat you, or at least nibble — but he's not the type who eats his darling and then walks around saddened widowers and widows without the opportunity to remarry, he's a more sophisticated type and definitely not that creepy, even if the way you are you pull his hair as fingers gently circle around, rubbing and stroking, using precum for better contact, makes his eyes water and his mouth open slightly, breathing, feeling too ambiguous even for a "husband", let alone the role of the "doctor" in which he was.

“Please... d-darling...” He chirps something slightly hoarsely, stroking, caressing, breathing every other time, as if you are holding not by the hair, but by the throat; when his fingers tremble slightly, you hiss, making him blush slightly shamefacedly, as if from your swearing, — but he tries not to break the rhythm, ignoring, as befits a refined well-mannered husband. Do well-mannered husbands use their fingers on their spouses? Theodore doesn't have that much experience to respond, especially when you flinch slightly, curling your toes, — and he wants to bite just to remove this strange shameful, almost perverted feeling of a mixture of lust and guilt inside, clearly not too approved by religion, but when you start breathing shallowly and harder, closing your eyes, Theodore moves his fingers faster, watching your face.

Is that right? You don't hold him so tightly, but don't take your hand away, and his fingers are so slippery and wet that he's almost ashamed, as if it's all his juices, and he definitely should at least look away, but this is scientific curiosity, just curiosity, even when he changes his position, sinking lower shamelessly, feeling himself for a moment, it really was some kind of fallen man from entertainment houses, with an implicit gurgling feeling in the lower abdomen, listening only to your breathing and slightly squelching sounds. Theodore hardly breathes, looking at his fingers, trying for a moment to distract himself with the fleeting thought "good that cut nails" — but when your... your bare foot touches his shoulder, it seems so perversely seeing your calves that he does not know where to look — freezing for a moment, his eyes are drawn only to you, even if it looks so... sweetly vulgar, completely wrong, — but you're already married, so it's okay even if you're not like that, right? It's okay when he sees something below your neck and bare arms, it's okay when you squeeze his hair tightly again, it's okay when he hears your hot, loud breathing, as if you're breathing directly into his red ears, although he can't even look up from the way you're holding him.

Your fingers are strong, dexterous, squeezing his strands so hard that he can't move anywhere, but for some reason he is too pleased with this than he should be, even when Theodore feels like you are pushing him even closer shamelessly, as if he is not your, actually, noble and high-minded husband, who is now plays the role of your doctor, helping you with your "hysteria", but some kind of fun boy!

Outrageous!

“D-darl-!~”

You hiss something, almost growl — and pull too hard, forcing Theodore to briefly let out a distant sigh without resistance — and obediently open his mouth, hastily removing his fingers so as not to interfere before he finds a new, more comfortable place. His eyes are slightly watering from the mild pain, but when he does not see a shadow of the old irritation or anger in your face, he obediently sticks out the tip of his red tongue, not trying to shirk his doctoral duties — or is this already a marital duty? Theodore doesn't know, he's not sure, — especially when you hold him even tighter, not listening to what he says, knowing that if he really was "against it", he would have already got out, and not looked at you like a fawn at a hunter, as if it wasn't because of him that you were here, with legs spread apart and heavy breathing from the heaviness in the lower abdomen.

Is this really what he was taught at university?

A boy for fun.

The corners of your husband's eyes turn red, but he does not try to say anything or justify himself, — why should he? — making inarticulate sounds, but only moving his head, hesitantly holding your hips as much as he could do it respectfully and unobtrusively; after all, he is a learned man, even if he was kneeling like some kind of animal or a slave.

When Theodore awkwardly, clumsily moves his tongue, trying to make sure that you feel good, for some reason the world feels much brighter and sharper, — especially when the heat gets stronger, making you tremble slightly, feeling a wide tongue and thin flexible fingers, as if they are perfect only for this, but there is less air in your lungs than you need to continue dirty deservedly whisper to him how low he has sunk, from his 'writing letters to the best doctors he studied with' to kneeling in front of his spouse.

It's not that you're going to stop him or let him change his position, of course, but just force him to continue doing what he's good for, while he's almost meowing, almost purring, not trying to pull away anymore.

... It's not that he's wrong, though.

You definitely feel better after a little therapy.

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luveline · 2 years ago

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Idk if you’re still taking requests for Hotch but if you are— when I have bad anxiety I get a head to toe rash- hives and super itchy/hot. And Hotch comforts them/takes care of them, lots of reassurance. Thank you!

thank you for your request ♡ gn!reader

"Don't be so rough with yourself," Aaron says. You're in such a sad mood that he's managed to become the chipper one of you both. "Let me see."

"I'm not being rough," you insist, smoothing Aloe Vera down your leg with two cruel hands.

You're being normal. Anything beyond petting is too mean for Aaron, though, and he takes your hands.

Sleeves rolled to the elbows already, he certainly doesn't care about how messy and gross this feels. Head to toe, hives spot your skin. They crop up whenever you feel acutely anxious, worsen your anxiety by ten, and then linger unhealed. Aaron never signed up for this, and he's never baulked either way. You might even say he likes it. Not your incessant itching, but getting to help.

Your foot on the bed, leg held up, he squirts Aloe Vera into his hands. It's cool, kept in his fridge specifically for you, a gesture that manages to cheer you up some.

"You're rough," he affirms, passing big palms up and down the flanks of your shin with a familiarity to aid your calm. His touch feels better than any medicine, though the itchiness prevails, and you're glad for it when he stops and ushers your opposite leg onto the bed.

You curl a hand into his shirt to stop from falling over. "Sorry," you say.

"It's okay. Don't worry about it, honey."

"It's gross."

"Not any more gross than me." He's methodical at first, spreading the translucent gel in equal palmings down the length of your leg. He forgets what he's doing halfway through, feeling at your knee and inner thigh like he would laying in bed together, touching just to touch.

"You don't get hives when you worry."

"No, I get wrinkles. Mine are permanent, so really, you shouldn't complain." Your laugh makes him smile, happiness stickying his tone as he murmurs, "I should say sorry to you. I'm harassing you."

He pushes the hem of your pyjama shorts up a touch as he spreads cold gel there. The linen shorts stick to the gel as soon as he moves his hand. You fan your face, feeling uncomfortably hot and scratchy.

Aaron helps you put your foot back down on the floor and sizes you up. You've managed to cover pretty much every hive at this point, your skin shining with a green hue if you catch it in the light the right way.

He sits down at the top of the bed and opens his nightstand drawer. Inside is a number of things, a cell phone, pills, a bag of throat soothers. He reaches toward the back and unveils a handheld fan, charged and raring to go as he turns it on and points it in your direction. The Aloe Vera suddenly feels wetter, the cold providing a quick relief.

He's already asked you what's worrying you. He knew before the hives that something was wrong, not just because he's a profiler. He really, truly cares. Aaron's frowning now like the pain is his own, waving the fan in a gentle side to side. Your eyes slip closed, content to feel it wash over you like a rare breeze in the middle of summer.

"You know the worst part about all of this?" he asks.

"What, baby?" you ask, lips barely parted. This is the most escape you've found all day. "You can't kiss me?"

"I can't kiss you," he says firmly. "How'd you know?"

"You always say stuff like that."

"You always provoke me…" Aaron shifts closer, taking your hand into his. "Feeling any better?"

You preen at his soft touches, his thumb skirting lightly across your fingertips. "A little."

"This is better than the Chinese menu, right?"

Aaron had taken to fanning you with takeout menus whenever you got too hot before his recent purchase. He fanned you for hours, until you could imagine the twinging ache in his biceps, his overworked wrists, never once complaining.

"This is amazing, Aaron, thank you," you breathe out.

He kisses your fingertips. "You're welcome."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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comatosebunny09 · 1 year ago

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firestarter [ pt. 2 ] | leon k.

genre(s): romance, friends to lovers, erotica, mild angst warning(s): mutual pining, explicit language, female reader, pet names summary: “you’re a shitty liar, you know that?” leon rasps against your lips. etches a sluggish triangle between your mouth and eyes, his breath fanning across your cheeks, turning your brain into a kaleidoscope of colors and sensations. the hand at your throat doesn’t help matters, squeezing with enough pressure to turn your lungs to cinder. music inspo: champagne cool - jackson wang spin bout u - drake & 21 savage notes: part 2 to this. thank you so much for reading! hope you enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

It’s a rhythmic tapping that draws you from your catnap.

Knocking that hauls you from the softness of your couch, the news channel droning in the background as you blink away the fog. The floor is icy beneath your feet while you pad over to your front door to answer it. Not really thinking, forgoing the peephole to throw it open.

Sunlight filters in, blinding like a flashbang. You squint against its brilliance, your vision slowly wading through shapes and colors. And if you weren’t already awake before …

“Hey, stranger,” Leon Kennedy drawls from the threshold, tone brassy as if he’s just awoken himself. You feel it in your chest. Curling around you like smoke, weakening your knees.

He bears a youthful smile while he leans against the doorframe in an easy slouch, gazing down at you with such fondness. Clad in grey joggers and a black tee that does little to disguise the power of his body, a slither of abdomen peeking from beneath.

Your lids flutter, dispelling the final vestiges of sleep. Mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, throat growing dry. Your arms fall listlessly at your sides, your voice turning to ash.

He takes your silence as a welcome. Wears a somewhat guilty expression as he holds up a small, white bag, condensation beading inside. “Brought Chinese,” Leon offers, shaking it for good measure. A peace offering more than a greeting. Surprisingly good-natured, considering you’ve dodged him since you returned from your mission a week ago.

You step aside, completely on autopilot. Still dumbfounded as your partner maneuvers past you into your apartment, carrying the scent of ocean waves and teakwood with him. You flinch at the chaste kiss he presses to your cheek. At the graze of a callused palm on your hip, searing you through the fabric of your sweats.

Gaze fixated on the rail in front of your apartment, your lips twitch into a sardonic smile. Least he has food, you inwardly snort, slowly closing the door. Wait for a few beats with your head bowed and your hands frozen on the lock, preparing yourself for the unavoidable.

You square your shoulders with a sigh, trailing after his shadow towards your living room.

But, it’s surprisingly easy to fall back into tempo with him.

With you both sinking into the couch, your legs stretched across his lap. Large hands rubbing your feet, a ghostly smile rounding his lips when you giggle and squeal as he tickles them every so often. Feel at ease when he kneads the muscles of your calves. A softness to his ministrations like he’s missed this—missed you. And you catch him watching you in your peripheral as if he wants to say something. Yet, neither of you wants to break up the monotony of the moment.

Takeout lies partially eaten on your coffee table. Drinks half full. The T.V. flickers mindlessly over your bodies, the only source of light permeating the darkness of your home. Your attention is elsewhere, dispersed amongst the clouds as you chew on your lip.

Sure, you’re still a little rigid. Still guarded after you bared your thoughts. The dreams haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve grown in intensity. More vivid, painted across the walls of your hallway, floors, bedroom, the fucking bathroom …

Warmth inhabits your cheeks at the memory. You slap a hand over your face, a muted groan burbling from your throat. You’ve had nothing but time to relive your fantasies, having taken a week off following your reconnaissance mission. Sparingly spoke to the object of your desires, your texts and phone calls brief. Made room for good mornings and good nights, fearing anything longer would result in your partner breaking off whatever this is.

His hand sears your wrist, slowly drawing it away from your mouth. “You alright?” Leon cautions, wariness dwelling in his timbre.

You nod with your stomach in knots and your heart on your sleeves. Try to ignore how his grip on you lingers and his thumb skates placatingly over the veins of your hand.

“Hey,” he husks. Insistent as ever, tugging you closer toward the safety of his body. An arm slings around your shoulders, nimble fingers creeping under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. “Hey, talk to me.” His proximity makes your head spin. The calmness of his voice squeezes something in your chest. You’re finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. And you’re looking at his mouth without thinking, entranced by how the delicate flesh trembles and parts with each breath. “What’s on your mind?”

You shake your head dismissively, averting your gaze to the side. “N-nothing.” A lie as obvious as the palpable tension between you, and he fucking knows it. He seizes your jaw again, leveling his steely blues with you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” No. Not really. Because all you’ve wanted to do since he walked through your door was peel his shirt from his shoulders and sit on his—

His chuckle, husky and rich like chocolate, breaks through the swell of lustful thoughts. “You’re a shitty liar, you know that?” Leon says, etching a sluggish triangle between your mouth and hooded lids.

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy smut #leon x reader smut #resident evil 4 x reader #re4 x reader #kindle series

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bl-bracket · 3 months ago

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Anyways I was going to make a post about the process of picking bracket topics and whatnot and was trying to come up with some examples of types of topics that would or wouldn't work and for whatever reason I thought of the concept of a "best murderer bracket" and I can't stop thinking about it lmao

it's just like such a funny concept? the idea of fictional murderers battling it out, especially ones from bls (which like I don't think is most people who are not super familiar with the genre as having a lot of characters who have killed people) is just funny in like an absurd way. like abstracting yourself from tumblr and tournament blogs, the idea of telling someone else that there's a tournament going for fictional murderers from east asian mlm tv shows, a genre that for several years was primarily shows about high school and uni students.

anyways that devolved into thinking about it more seriously, and then deciding a more practical way of doing it would to make some kind of directory of bl murderers. which would then lead to a lot of interesting statistical analysis, like characters with highest on screen kill counts, which countries have the highest proportion of fictional killers, etc. you can then make a separate category for characters with implied kills that aren't explicitly shown on screen or vague. and you could track how the number increases over time, which I assume exponentially goes up as more bls are exploring darker and more serious genres.

anyways back to the country stats, I started thinking about what the breakdown would look like so here's my guess based on zero research and just my general knowledge of shows

China. While having very few bls (censored or otherwise), they have a very unfair advantage and that is genre conventions. The 3 biggest Chinese bls I can think of are: The Untamed, Word of Honor, and Guardian. With The Untamed and Word of Honor, the conventions of xianxia and wuxia genres means that there are a lot of characters and almost all of them have killed before (usually nameless canon fodder but still). And then with Guardian, it's a supernatural detective mystery show with murder plots in it and a lot of characters, which again leads to a pretty high kill count. So even only counting these 3 shows, China will probably have the most killers in bl, or at the very least most kills done.

Thailand. It's a numbers game on this one. There's just so many Thai bls and an increasing number of like detective or mafia ones. A show like Kinnporsche has a lot of killers and deaths. Then there's other shows that include a few murderers (but less than Kinnporsche) like The Sign, Manner of Death, 4 Minutes, 3 Will Be Free, Never Let Me Go (Palm did shoot a couple guys dead elt's nto forget), Dead Friend Forever, etc. However the numbers also hurt Thailand in terms of proportions, since there's a lot more Thai bls that don't have murder, so it actually might be 3rd.

Japan. You're not getting much murder from your Cherry Magics and Old Fashion Cupcakes, which is what a significant portion of bl fan's primary exposure to Japanese bl is, but let's not forget that there's a lot of dark Japanese bls where murder is definitely on the table. Now I don't actually have a good gauge of what the numbers on this is, cause I haven't really delved that deep into this corner of the bl market, so I can't make a good estimation but I bet there's more than I'm aware of.

Taiwan. They've got a couple of mafia shows like HIStory 3: Trapped and Kiseki: Dear to Me, both of which have some implied and explicit murder (though less then you would expect if we're honest). That'll give them a few kills and they also have a relatively smaller pool of shows to pull from, meaning percentage wise it's a bit higher.

South Korea. Ok I am far from an expert of bls from South Korea, but unless there's like obscure short films I'm not aware of, the only drama I can think of from here with kills is Long Time No See? or I guess The Director Who Buys Me Dinner has like 1.5 murders? anyways Korea also has a not insignificant amount of bls to their name so proportionally it will be quite low.

The Philippines. Out of all the countries on this list, I am least familiar with the bls from here, but from what I've gathered during my routine mdl searches, basically all of them seem to be murder-free (unless of course there's some shocking plot twists in them)

anyways I'll probably never do this project just cause it would require a lot of time and collaborative effort and I've got a lot irl going on right now (hence why the submission period for most whipped is so long lol) and also have some other projects I'm already planning on doing so I don't really have time to do it. but I wanted to tell y'all about my thoughts on the matter.

also sorry if this is the weirdest thing I've ever posted. kinda had a major stress breakdown today but then resolved it relatively quickly cause I realized I could just reschedule the life altering appointment that was causing the breakdown lmao so I'm in a strange frame of mind lol

#not a poll #like I was walking around looking like some haunted peasant from a dostoevsky novel #and then suddenly was like wait can I reschedule #and I could #and then I thought about this and then made this post #and here we are #get ready for strange posting over the next couple months as high stress levels with a pretty decent dosage of psychiatric meds combine int #unhinged ramblings about bls lol

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cegiel-athelia · 6 months ago

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Love in the Stars

(A Love and Deepspace x Qi Xi Tale)

This is a sequel to the Moonlit Orchid Day event on 10 August 2024.

I thought that it is important to educate the fans about the true nature of the event, that is, Qi Xi (七夕), commonly known to simply be the Chinese Valentine’s Day, but it is really more than just that. It is a love story. It is a story of broken hearts and eternal love all at once.

I have done my best to summarise the myth into an easier read for players, so please, enjoy.

Genre: Very Fluffy (and slight angst, only if you are able to catch the nuance.)

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The low, soft humming of the engine of the car as Zayne was driving us back from the festival was steady and consistent amidst the melodic chorus of the song, “Mountains in the Night”, which he said that he would play enroute our way home to Linkon.

I laid on my side in the reclined passenger seat, gazing tenderly at the stoic, yet magnanimously caring man before me - the same person I have known since my childhood, and I was grateful that fate had not only given us the chance to reconnect after years had passed, but that we now had something that is more than special.

His soft chuckle cut through the ambient noises when he noticed my staring, and he said in a voice that was gentle, “what is it?”, as he removed his grip from the steering wheel to take my hand in his, intertwining our fingers – a gesture confined to our private moments together.

I shook my head, a fond smile playing on my lips as I replied, “Dr Zayne, what did you wish for on your sky lantern?”

He let out another amused chuckle at my question, releasing my hand to shift the gear. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t come true.”

I smiled knowing that that was not exactly true, but I did not insist. Instead, I murmured, “I saw you peeking while I was writing my wish on my lantern. How much did you see?”

A blush formed on his cheeks which spread to the tips of ears, almost imperceptible by the dimness of the night and confines of the car. He cleared his throat as if to brace himself before he spoke. “I saw that you wrote ‘I wish to be with Dr Zayne forever’, and you punctuated it with five exclamation marks.”

I groaned an agonised sound, covering my face with my palms from the embarrassment, and his chuckle drifted to my ears again. In concession, he spoke in a gentle voice, “I wished for the same thing with you, but I excluded the exclamation marks.”

I lifted my head from my hands and for a fleeting moment, I saw the curve of a smirk on the sides of his lips before he returned his attention to the road ahead.

We stayed there in the comfortable silence for a while, until I soon found myself drowsy with sleep. In defiance against the lull of slumber, I asked, “Dr Zayne? Could you tell me more about the origins of the festival?”

The familiar chuckle came once more, one that was of tenderness and affection as he obliged. “Sure,” he muttered, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “Moonlit Orchid Day is really the ‘Qi Xi Festival’. It falls on the seventh day of the seventh lunar month.”

He paused, slowing the car at the corner to make a turn. “On Qi Xi, the stars align, such that, it allows the constellations, ‘Vega’, ‘Altair’ – the star-crossed lovers – and ‘Deneb’ to come together. Deneb forms a bridge over the Milky Way to enable Vega and Altair to meet once every lunar calendar year.”

He glanced over at me and a wistful smile graced his features as he spoke. “In the Chinese mythology, Altair is the man known as Niu Lang, and Vega, the girl named ‘Zhi Nu’. There are several versions of the story, and this is but one of them.”

Zayne’s eyes were on the road, but his gaze appeared distant, as if, deep in thought. “Zhi Nu, together with her sisters, are the daughters of the queen of heaven, the Queen Mother. One day, they came to earth and bathe in a river in the mountains. Niu Lang was smitten by Zhi Nu’s beauty and he stole her clothes, which prevented her from returning to heaven with her sisters. Zhi Nu eventually fell in love with Niu Lang and they married, and were blessed with two children.”

I continued to listen to Zayne, or at least, I attempted to. However, his voice, combined with the low droning of the engine and the occasional sound of crunching asphalt under the tires, created a harmonious lullaby and my eyelids grew heavy as the minutes passed us by.

Still, I strove to listen to his words in my subconscious as I felt myself succumbing to the lull of sleep. “When the Queen discovered the marriage – one that was forbidden – Zhi Nu was immediately seized and returned to heaven. Niu Lang finding that Zhi Nu was gone, searched for her with his two children, embarking on a journey to heaven, intent on reuniting with his wife.”

Zayne’s expression became pensive, although his eyes did not leave the road as he navigated towards home. “To thwart his advances, the Queen ‘drew’ a river with her golden hairpin - the Milky Way is symbolic of that river – making it impossible for Niu Lang to cross.”

“Niu Lang mourned for his wife by the river, unable to cross it, and soon, the news spread and a flock of magpies, having compassion for Niu Lang, formed a bridge for the lovers to meet. The Queen eventually allowed the lovers to meet only once a year on that magpie-bridge – the constellation, Deneb.”

“That one day a year, is Qi Xi.” Zayne’s voice trailed off as he concluded the story, turning to look at the figure beside him, now soundly asleep.

Her breathing was slow and even, the glow of the passing streetlamps faintly illuminated her features, and her eyelashes cast long shadows on her cheekbones. He felt a breath catch in his chest at how ethereal and fleeting she looked. He reached a hand to brush a lock of hair away from her face, careful not to rouse her in the process and he could not suppress the tender smile forming on his lips.

He leaned in to whisper ever so quietly, “I will love and find you in every lifetime,” and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I promise.”

===============-END-=================

#love and deepspace #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace rei #zayne #loveanddeepspaceedit #reiloveanddeepspace #rei #zayne and reader #zayne and you #lnds zayne #love and deepspace fanfiction #loveandDeepspaceshowercard2

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apothecaryscript · 3 months ago

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Halloween Art Short Video / 薬屋のひとりごと　ハロウィンアート　ショート動画

Please note that the English lines are just my translation.

<< 猫猫/Maomao >>

（キョンシー/Kyonshī/Jiangshi ：中国版ゾンビ/Chugoku-ban zonbi/Chinese version of zombie）

猫猫「お前、うまそうだな。血のいい香りがするぞ」

Maomao “Omae, umaso-dana. Chino ii kaoriga suruzo.”

Maomao “You look tasty. I can smell the nice scent of blood.”

<< 壬氏/Jinshi >>

（九尾の狐/Kyubino kitsune/Nine-tailed fox : 中国に伝わる九本の尾を持つ狐の妖怪/Chugokuni tsutawaru Kyu-honno o’o motsu kitsuneno yokai/A nine-tailed fox monster from China）

壬氏「取って食ったりしない。こっちへ来い」

Jinshi “Totte kuttari shinai. Kocchi’e koi.”

Jinshi “I’m not going to eat you. Come over here.”

<< 高順/Gaoshun >>

（雷震子/Raishinshi/Leizhenzi : 『封神演義』の登場人物/‘Hoshin-Engi’no tojo-jinbutsu/A character in the classic Chinese novel ‘Investiture of the Gods’）

高順「空が騒がしい。ほら、そこ！雷に気を付けてください」

Gaoshun “Soraga sawagashii. Hora, soko! Kaminari-ni ki’o tsukete-kudasai.”

Gaoshun “The sky is noisy. Look, there! Be careful of thunder.”

<< 玉葉妃/Concubine Gyokuyou >>

（鉄扇公主または羅刹女/Tessen-Koshu or Rasetsunyo/Princess Iron Fan ：　『西遊記』の登場人物/ ‘Saiyu-ki’ no tojo-jinbutsu/A character in the classic Chinese novel ‘Journey to the West’）

玉葉妃「この芭蕉扇が欲しいの？奪えるものなら奪ってごらんなさい」

Gyokuyo-hi “Kono Basho-Sen-ga hoshiino? Ubaeru mono-nara ubatte goran-nasai.”

Concubine Gyokuyou “Do you want this Palm-leaf fan? Go ahead and take it from me if you can.”

―――――――――――――――――――――――――――――――

「うまそうだ(Uma-soda)」: looks tasty

「うまい(旨い、美味い/Umai)」: tasty (more manly and rougher than おいしい). Recently women also use this word, but it’s not formal. It’s no wonder Maomao say うまい, but noble women such as Concubine Gyokuyou or Concubine Lihua never use it.

「取って食う(とってくう/Totte-kuu)、取って食べる(とってたべる/Totte-taberu): It’s an idiom used in the negative form when reassuring someone who is frightened. Let’s say you are a big boss and summon a new staff to your room, and he is very nervous and worried in front of you. Then you can say, “Please relax, I’m not gonna eat you. I just wanted to see you.”

Hereunder please see the lines from Demon Slayer, Season 1 Episode 24.

胡蝶しのぶ「別に取って食べたりはしませんから、大丈夫ですよ～」

Kocho Shinobu “Betsuni totte tabe-tariwa shimasen-kara, daijobu desuyooo.”

Shinobu Kocho “Don’t worry, it’s not as if I’ll gobble him up, all right?”

煉獄杏寿郎「それはそうだろう！アッハハハハハ…」

Rengoku Kyojuro “Sorewa so daro! Ahhahahahaha…”

Kyojuro Rengoku “Well, of course you wouldn’t!”

It’s like a joke in order to lighten the mood. But in case of this Jinshi’s line, he is saying as a monster of the nine-tailed fox. So you might get eaten if you believe his sweet words of invitation and approach him…

「奪(うば)えるものなら奪(うば)ってごらんなさい」: Go ahead and take it from me if you can.

「できるものなら、やってみろ」: Do it if you can. (= You can never do it. Let’s see you’ll try it.)

These words are totally provocation.

#apothecary english #apothecary romaji #the apothecary diaries #apothecary diaries #learning japanese #japanese #薬屋のひとりごと #薬屋のひとりごと　英語 #薬屋　英語　学習 #japan #KNH

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apollos-olives · 1 year ago

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as I am sad and sick I would like to hear some nice things. Is there any Palestinian flora/fauna you wish everyone could see?

(Personally I'm a biiiiiig fan of the cedars as a tree lover, but I've never been fortunate enough to see one in person 😭 cedrus libani... I will visit you one day...)

i hope you feel better soon!!

i don't know much about flowers in general but palestinians are very big on fruits. most palestinians grow a few fruit trees around their houses, and if they own some acres then they often have stuff like olive trees or palm trees. whenever you go to a downtown of a city, you can usually find stands upon stands of fresh fruits and flowers and whatnot. we're really also into nuts, and we spice and season nuts as a snack as well.

my grandpa has a small house in jericho, and he grows many trees of fruits around his home. he mostly grows figs, which are usually ripe when we come over so we can pick them right off the tree and eat it there. he also grows tiny oranges (?), about the size of a curled up pinky i think. you can usually pick them off the tree or bush and pop the whole thing in your mouth, even with the peel. it's kinda tart and i didn't like it very much, with it's textures and whatnot. i don't actually know if it's an orange, but it's definitely some sort of citrus. my dad said it might be called "kumquats" in english, but i just now got off the phone with my family in nablus and they said they called it "chinese oranges" in arabic lol. no one really knows what they're called but that's something that is easily grown around.

we have a LOT of palm trees, and usually if you're driving around the area you can come across many fields of palm trees and find dates. you can eat them before they're "ripe", when they're more round and yellow, and they're very sweet and delicious. in jericho, up on the mountain of the temple, you can look down on the city and see very long fields of dates being harvested. usually their harvesting season is around august/september (which means jesus would've been born in the summer since mary ate ripe dates when she birthed jesus lol), so if you go during the summer (by the way. jericho is BOILING during the summer. lowest place on earth, boiling hot. our car engine fucking MELTED WHILE WE WERE DRIVING) then you can find some really good fresh dates being served.

we just really love our fruits

#palestine #sorry it took so long to respond i called my family to ask what those lil oranges were called and then we got off track and talked for hour

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mathmusicreading · 1 year ago

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Currently thinking about the title of Supernatural season 4 episode 1 "Lazarus Rising". It's so simple and so evocative. I think I get something extra from it because I love Terry Pratchett, Discworld, Hogfather, Discworld's Death, and the quote "where the falling angel meets the rising ape". (Do the Destiel shippers go wild with this? The Cas fans supporting his love for humanity and even creating free will? They should.) But just on it's own, it's referencing coming back to life and the phrasing has connotations of ascension and empowerment. It also avoids connotations of zombies or likening Dean to Jesus Christ.

On that note, I wonder how much Supernatural meant to parallel Dean Winchester to Lazarus of Bethany, and Castiel to Jesus for that matter. (With how little I engage with Supernatural canon, I think my thoughts on Chuck's relationship with Castiel are mixed and not set, but for fun right now: Castiel is Chuck's favorite angel, and Chuck hates it and hates him for it!)

Dean was dead for four months, much like Lazarus was dead for four days. (Dean was also in hell for 40 years, a significant number and amount of time in the Bible. And moving away from the Christianity angle, four is a fitting motif with Dean's death given "four" sounding like "death" in Mandarin Chinese.)

Dean is "the righteous man", while part of the title with which Lazarus is venerated is "Righteous Lazarus".

If "risen dead" evokes zombies and "risen from the dead" invokes Jesus, then "Lazarus rising" conveys that the subject of resurrection is a normal human, and the key is that they are resurrected by a great power who is good. Specifically, Lazarus is resurrected by Jesus, the Son of God, and Dean is resurrected not by a necromancer or demon, but by the angel Castiel, sent on a holy mission.

Jesus did not immediately save Lazarus, rushing to heal him upon hearing of his illness, but waited two days before traveling to and resurrecting Lazarus after he died. I can't help but feel like this is similar to Castiel's not rescuing Dean until 40 years into Dean's sentence in Hell, after he had broken on the rack and become a torturer shedding blood in Hell.

Jesus did not merely heal Lazarus when he was sick, but resurrected him after death, for God's glory and that people might believe in Jesus' own coming resurrection. (God resurrecting Castiel, anyone?) I think Supernatural canon is not explicitly clear, and it may be widespread fanon or a popular fan head canon that Castiel was sent immediately to rescue Dean, but wow the similarity to Jesus and his mission if Cas couldn't reach Dean or wasn't sent until after Dean broke because of heaven's ultimate plan to carryout the apocalypse, rescuing Dean not being about saving a righteous man but about breaking the first seal to Lucifer's cage.

Not full of meaning, but Jesus resurrected Lazarus in his tomb and still wrapped in his grave cloths. So for the people jokingly asking why Castiel left Dean in his coffin, six feet under, instead of zapping him out, it's because we're really leaning into the Jesus angle. (Is Cas lobotomized Jesus?!)

And the kickers now that we've gone through all that: Jesus wept. He was moved with compassion for Lazarus' sisters and friends. He mourned Lazarus' death even while on the way to resurrect him. It was well known by all that he loved Lazarus. Take that how you will and run with it, Cas fans and Destiel shippers!

Last thing not being included with the rest because you can't as easily get it just from reading John 11:1-44 or doing an internet search for Lazarus. DiscIaimer that above, I got the title with which Lazarus is venerated in the Eastern Orthodox Church from Wikipedia, and so too the following Biblical interpretation/theological commentary.

The miracle of the raising of Lazarus is the climax of John's "signs". It explains the crowds seeking Jesus on Palm Sunday, and leads directly to the decision of Caiaphas and the Sanhedrin to plan to kill Jesus. Theologians Moloney and Harrington view the raising of Lazarus as a "pivotal miracle" which starts the chain of events that leads to the Crucifixion of Jesus. They consider it as a "resurrection that will lead to death", in that the raising of Lazarus will lead to the death of Jesus, the Son of God, in Jerusalem which will reveal the Glory of God.[17]

Dean's resurrection led to Castiel's death. Castiel died because he saved and loved Dean. When Castiel first laid a hand on [Dean] in Hell, he was lost! Castiel died because Chuck is a Pharisee that can't accept his manly everyman main character (sorry, Sam) is bisexual instead of straight. Chuck can be bisexual, but the manly everyman main character has to be straight, and so he killed Castiel for it. Dean too if you believe Chuck won.

And if the point of Lazarus' resurrection is Jesus' divinity, then the point of Dean's resurrection is that the angel is gay and Dean is bi!

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shenrickyz · 5 months ago

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﹙ 𖤐 ﹚. . . a quick soloist deep dive !

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a star, and though the star couldn't grant wishes, the star brought euphoria to all who took a glance its way. a swarm of astral deities debated on what to do with said star, what kind of star serves no purpose besides entertainment? what use is there to make people happy? advancing across the milky way and barrages of nebulous asteroids in the hopes of finding a place among the celestial rings, the star came to be known as the astral nova . . .

i'll be right your side tonight 💫 ! ─── ASTRANOVA ( 아스트라노바 ) is a south korean-american singer, songwriter, and producer under EUNOIA CO. with a stellar stage name quite literally just meaning " star ", he aims to wield the novas in his palms as he spreads irresistible elation through catchy, occasionally amusing, and sometimes melancholic music which has captured the hearts of many since his debut in january of 2021. having simply started as a former trainee who then became a silent producer for his labelmates, the transition to.. well— artist, was pretty " unconventional " in his own words.

ASTRANOVA made his formal debut on january 10 2021 with the mini album ‘NOT MY MEMORY’ which was headlined by the single ‘AMNESIA’, a song meant for an entirely other group, but eventually given to him after his original demo of the song went viral. he wasn't a new face, not exactly anyway, he was actually a face people had been begging to hear from for years. of course, before he became ‘ASTRANOVA’, he was just EZRA KWON, a tall, loud mouthed, hilarious sm entertainment trainee who seemed to have a good future ahead of him. before his abrupt departure from the company, he was suspected to have stolen a spot in NCT DREAM, but then he just suddenly disappeared from the company and went silent for five years. where did this sudden 2021 debut come from? and what's with the new name?

so let's talk about it then, the guy is quite literally a star after all. though having a sister formerly apart of a famous group and once being in the lineup for one, it seems it was never all that easy for him. hopefully after this, he becomes just a little bit more understanding to those full of confusion.

﹙ 21:29 ﹚. . . the basics !

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ BIRTH NAME . . . astro ezra kwon ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ KOREAN NAME . . . kwon eunwoo / 권은우 ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ PREFERRED NAME . . . astro / 아스트로

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ NICKNAMES . . . ez, rozi, asty, eunie, nunu, wee woo ❪ his family , his close friends ❫. tokki, white rabbit, snow bunny ❪ his close friends , his fans ❫. gentle giant, a tall softie, astro long legs, reaching for the stars, cell tower, tall woo ❪ his family , his friends , his fans ❫. little hye, baby lux, moon sibling ❪ his fans & his sisters' fans ❫. #1 amnesiac ❪ his fans ❫. star-boy, little star, astral angel, lumi, baby nova ❪ his fans ❫. 7/11 addict, keeping convenience stores open, slushies forever, twix crazy ❪ his close friends , specifically dakota & kihyun , his fans ❫.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ BIRTH DATE . . . december 20 2000 ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ ZODIAC SIGN . . . sagittarius ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ CHINESE ZODIAC SIGN . . . dragon

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ BIRTHPLACE . . . juneau, alaska, united states ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ HOMETOWN . . . juneau, alaska, united states ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ RESIDENCES . . . juneau, alaska, united states ❪ 2000 — 2011 , 2016 — 2018 ❫. seoul, south korea ❪ 2011 — 2016 , 2018 — present ❫.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ NATIONALITY . . . american ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ ETHNICITY . . . korean

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ SPOKEN LANGUAGES . . . english ❪ 100% , standard english ❫. korean ❪ 100% , gyeonggi dialect ❫. spanish ❪ 100% , castillan spanish ❫. cantonese ❪ 70% , hong kong dialect ❫. tagalog ❪ 45% , unspecified dialect ❫.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ GENDER IDENTITY . . . demiboy ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ PRONOUNS . . . he / they ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ SEXUALITY . . . gay

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ HEIGHT . . . 188 cm ❪ 6'2" ❫. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ WEIGHT . . . undisclosed ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ BLOOD TYPE . . . b

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ NATURAL EYE COLOR . . . dark brown ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ NATURAL HAIR COLOR . . . black ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ CURRENT HAIR COLOR . . . blonde

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ BODY MODIFICATIONS . . . 2 piercings ❪ left ear ❫. 4 piercings ❪ right ear ❫. 4 tattoos.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ FACE CLAIM . . . choi soobin / txt ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ SPEAKING CLAIM . . . choi soobin / txt ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ VOCAL CLAIM . . . lee jinki / shinee ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ DANCE CLAIM . . . kim jongin / exo ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ RAP CLAIM . . . kim jongin / exo

﹙ 21:29 ﹚. . . the career !

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ STAGE NAME . . . astranova / 아스트라노바 ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ EXPLANATION . . . he picked it himself, it's derived from the title of the first ever song he wrote and produced which was 'the astral nova', a song that was more of a personal dump of his issues as a moody sixteen year old than an actual collection of lyrics, fit with music. of course, the song has never been released, but the name stuck with him (the song also sort of made him appreciate his first name more).

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ REPRESENTATIVE EMOJIS . . . 🐰 / 💫 ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ EXPLANATION . . . the bunny is pretty self explanatory, literally everyone thinks he looks like a bunny when he eats. the star is also pretty fitting because his name, stage name, and literally everything about him is stars. this man has an obsession, really.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ FANDOM NAME . . . estrella ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ EXPLANATION . . . again, star obsession. estrella is the spanish word for star, the fandom name still would've been related to galaxies or stars anyway, so he didn't pay it much mind. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ FANDOM COLORS . . . ocean blue ❪ #4f42b5 ❫. periwinkle ❪ #ccccff ❫.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ AGENCIES . . . sm entertainment ❪ 2012 — 2016 ❫. eunoia co ❪ 2018 — present ❫. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ OCCUPATION . . . singer, songwriter, dancer, producer. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ TRAINING PERIOD . . . 9 years 4 months. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ DEBUT DATE . . . january 10, 2021. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ DEBUT AGE . . . 17 ❪ producer ❫ 20 ❪ singing ❫ ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ YEARS ACTIVE . . . 2015 — present

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ SOCIAL MEDIA . . . ─ instagram ⨟ @ astroproxy ❪ 2409 posts , 2.3m followers , 22 following ❫. @ newstar ❪ 1099 posts , 5.5m followers , 0 following ❫. ─ twitter ⨟ @ astrodotcom ❪ 347 tweets , 991k followers , 27 following ❫. ─ youtube ⨟ @ astranova ❪ 6210 videos , 7.7m subscribers , 2 subscribed to ❫.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ KNOWN FOR . . . hating when he's compared to his sister. having an inactive twitter page. keeping his local convenience stores in business. his underrated singing voice. deeming himself "not romantic" yet literally having a discography full of love songs. sleeping.. all the time. his overwhelming little caesars addiction. freaking out his team with literally everything he does. crying when he got the opportunity to sing an ost for a kdrama. technically being an original nct dream member. lightly shading sm with big smiles on his face. just falling off the face of the earth for five years until he randomly debuted. his sheer "platonic soulmatism" with kihyun of neverland. having so many friends in the industry despite his introversion. being cool with everyone. his impeccable comedic timing. being the mastermind behind a lot of his labelmates' music. his former history at sm. being the younger brother of nebula's luxury neriah. being a human air conditioner. ❛ well i'm from alaska not the arctic you fuck ❜. his complicated memory. getting a social media ban every other week for swearing at his team. turning his team into celebrities of their own. his silent chaotic energy. saying he would never adopt any pets but then getting twin cats. ❛ okay but they're my babies so ❜.

﹙ 21:29 ﹚. . . the personal !

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ MBTI TYPE . . . istj-a / defender

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ STRENGTHS . . . supportive, reliable, observant, enthusiastic, hardworking. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ WEAKNESSES . . . overly humble, too sensitive, repressing feelings, too altruistic, struggles to stand up for himself.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ PHOBIAS . . . atychiphobia, fear of failure. aquaphobia, fear of deep open water. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ STRUGGLES . . . standing up for himself, being too nice, talking about his feelings, taking proper breaks.

﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ FAMILY . . . father, paternal grandparents, older sister, godmother, and a plethora of aunts. ﹙ 𖤐 ﹚ FAMILY DESCRIPTION . . . compared to how most people may envision it, astro's family is much more different. his family consists of many members, his father, his older sister, his paternal grandparents, his godmother, and his many aunts. his father was a man who struggled throughout life, raised in a foreign country and having had his first child at seventeen, then went on ten years living in a cramped apartment with his parents, his young daughter, and his partner. it got especially bad when astro's mother passed away, he sunk into his depression and then that turned into substances. when it all got bad, his parents (astro's grandparents) stepped in, anaiah (his older sister) was also a comforting figure in the early days after mom's death. his godmother, who is his father's childhood friend, was also there to be a person of solace whilst dad was ignoring everyone's existence and work was taking time away from everyone else. as for his aunts, they aren't actually aunts on the related side, his aunts consist of his older sisters group members, who, funnily enough, all treat him as their own.

where do i begin with this story? the beginning of the story almost seems like the middle, but i guess a good tale is one those would love. the story of ASTRANOVA technically begins in 2015, when he coined the name which he would eventually become known for, yet the story also begins in 2011 when he joined his first company, or in 2007 when his sister debuted and became extremely well known, at this point, we could start at any point, but let's just start from the semi beginning.

in 2007, his older sister anaiah made her debut as the maknae, center, and main vocalist of girl group nebula. better known by her stage name ‘luxury neriah’, she was a power tool in the industry. though private, somewhat irate, and still secretly coping terribly with the death of her mother, she charmed the hearts of south korea up until the groups disbandment in 2019. he hung around in the background and watched everything, just silently there in a tiny seoul apartment as his sister experienced the ‘idol life’, something so intriguing to him that he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it as flawless as she did. she was the figure who inspired him to do it all, watching her be an idol made him think he could make it, and the constant encouragement gave him the hope he so desperately needed.

after a grueling six years, six years in which these events transpired in his life: he joined sm, he became apart of sm rookies, grew a sizable predebut fanbase, was on the korean mickey mouse club, got put into nct dream, got pulled out of nct dream, and left sm because his father got into a car accident and he couldn't stand not being at home with him. he then found his first calling, producing. through journeys with his barely hanging on laptop and free soundcloud beats, ASTRO coined his name ASTRANOVA as a cute little pseudonym that he conjured up in the first song he ever created when he was fifteen. seemed producing worked, as after scouting from several companies (who only wanted him for the connection he had to his sister), he took up an opportunity with eunoia co because they were actually giving him something he wanted.. not idoling.

it's cliché yes, but ASTRO had given up on the idea of being an idol, he instead devoted his time to university work and producing for his labelmates. he made his production debut on the track ‘LOVE BOMB’ which was given to his labelmates AVIIX. over the course of two and a half more years, he would go on to participate in creating hits like: ‘PANTOMIME’, ‘THIS TIME’, ‘LOVE IN SPACE’, ‘THE RAINY NIGHT’, ‘FLICKER’, and, of course, ‘AMNESIA’. there are definitely more songs but his catalog extends a long while, we'd be here forever seriously. he was making sure to keep himself busy even without the idol life on his back.

‘AMNESIA’ started it all. it was in mid–2020 when he wrote it for NEVERLAND on a whim, but the song was a mixed bag for management, who couldn't decide if the song fit the groups concept, they kept it on the back burner for a while. then, someone released the demo without the company knowing, and.. it went viral. it was only ASTRO's second time doing the demo for a song he created, yet it seemed that so many wanted more. considering the idol dream had been long gone for a few years, he found it funny how people wanted for him to debut, but at the same time, it also boosted his ego in just the slightest.

the company gave him an ultimatum, he could simply remain a producer, or, he could use the chance he'd been given and finally make his idol dreams possible whilst remaining with just less creative power than before. considering the song was created by him, he could just release it himself. so he decided to take his chances, after sort of disappearing for five years and even getting a new stage name which was cool as shit (his own words), ASTRANOVA debuted on january 10, 2021, and a true star he is indeed.

there are definitely issues that need to be worked through, but with a team full of ‘just the sweetest assholes’ (- ASTRO 2022), broken promises healed, friendships rekindled, and many many songs saved in his files, it seems that he's always two steps ahead. the story doesn't have a surefire happy ending, but he's determined to get there, don't give him a challenge, he'll crush it.

#˖﹙💫 ﹚ABYSS ! ─── astranova : profile #fake kpop oc #fake kpop idol #male oc #original characters #idolverse #fictional kpop community #fictional kpop oc #kpop soloist #male soloist #fictional idol oc #fake kpop soloist

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sifu-kisu · 11 months ago

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A Brief Discussion of Cheng Style Baguazhang

by Liu Jingru

Wuhun Magazine, 1999 vol. 1 no. 127

translated by Joseph Crandall

Baguazhang is one of the more famous of the traditional Chinese martial arts. It has distinctive practice skill methods and its palm method changes unfathomably. It has a good balanced reputation in the martial community. From the time of Qing Chengfeng (1851-1862), when Mr. Dong Haichuan introduced it until today, it is daily practiced and enjoyed by martial artists in China and overseas.

Mr. Dong Haichuan had many disciples. Yin Fu, Ma Weiqi, Shi Jidong, Song Changrong, Cheng Tinghua, Liang Zhenpo, Liu Fengchun, Zhang Zhankui, Fan Zhiyong, and Liu Baozhen were very famous. In terms of skill, achievements, dedication, and fame, Mr. Yin Fu and Mr. Cheng Tinghua come to the forefront. Although the principles and methods of their skill in Baguazhang was the same, after many years of training and teaching, each one gradually developed their own special style. These have become known as Yin Style Baguazhang and Cheng Style Baguazhang.

Mr. Cheng Tinghua, also called Yingfang was from Shen County in Hebei. He was born in 1848 and died in 1900. He was 52 years old. In Mr. Cheng’s early years he practiced Shuaijiao and Shaolin. As a result of someone’s recommendation, he asked to join Dong Haichuan’s school. He deeply got the pure essence and spirit of Baguazhang. Mr. Cheng was a large and strong man. He had an eyeglasses shop in Beijing. Therefore people all called him “Spiritual Strength Eyeglasses Cheng”.

In 1900, the Eight Countries Allied Armies invaded Beijing. Mr. Cheng wanted to stop a unit of the German army who were bullying the peaceful populace. He engaged the German army unit and was shot and killed.

Mr. Cheng had many students. The most famous were: Feng Junyi, Zhang Yukui, Kan Lingfeng, Li Wenpiao, Zhou Xiang, Zhang Yongde, Sun Lutang, Yang Mingshan, Guo Tongde, Liu Bin, Cheng Yougong, Cheng Youlong, and Cheng Youxin. They all made outstanding contributions to the development of Cheng Style Baguazhang.

Feng Junyi, was good at using the leg method. Men called him “Flying Legs Feng Junyi.” Zhang Yukui, was from a miller’s family. Men called him “Miller Zhang”. Kan Lingfeng men called “Kan Eight”. Zhang Yongde, sold boots. Hedid not know how to write, and often asked people to write letters for him. He never brushed pictures, only boots. Men called him “Boots Zhang.” Zhou Xiang’s face had pockmarks. Men called him “Pockmarks Zhou”. Guo Tongde sold steamed buns to make a living. Men called him “Steamed Buns Guo.” Yang Mingshan first studied with Mr. Cheng to make eyeglasses. Then he asked his teacher if he could also study Bagua. Liu Bin was Mr. Cheng’s youngest disciple. The above men all had very pure skills and were famous in the martial community.

Li Wenbiao, also called Guangpu, was among Cheng Tinghua’s most outstanding students. He was big and tall. His eyes were bright and his spirit was awesome. He was burly with enormous strength. He deeply got the pure understanding of Baguazhang. Li first followed Supervisor of the Military Xu Shichang and went to the Northeast. In Fengtian he was appointed to seek out foreign spies. At that time, many martial artists, like Warlord Li, Spiritual Wrestler Ji Si, Pigua Li Baorong, and Mr. Cheng’s nephew Cheng Yougong in the troops under his command. Later he held office with President Cao Kun in Beijing. Within his troops there were no less than ten of his Baguazhang classmates and some juniors, like Miller Zhang’s student Cui Yugui, Cheng Youlong’s student He Jun, Zhu WenBao’s student Liu Zhigang, and Cheng Tianhua’s student Liu Zitai. When Feng Yuyang rebelled against President Cao Kun, Li was killed in the confusion and looting. Master Li was famous for his depressing palm (ta zhang). No man dared to lightly test him. At that time, the martial community universally praised him.

Mr. Sun Lutang followed Guo Yunshen’s student Li Kuiyuan and studied Xingyi Quan. Then he asked Mr. Cheng Tinghua to teach him Bagua. Later he met Hao Weijin. Because his knowledge was already comparatively deep, he thereupon studied Taijiquan. Mr. Sun purely studied these three styles of martial art. He deeply got every nuance and fused them together. He authored The Real Meaning of Fighting, The Study of Xingyi Quan, The Study of Baguazhang, The Study of Taijiquan, and The Study of Bagua Sword, to be left for future generations. Mr. Sun held a teaching post at the Nanjing Central Kuoshu Institute. He was famous all over, and was one of the great martial arts teachers of his time.

Cheng Yougong, also known as Xiangting, was Mr. Cheng Tinghua’s nephew. When he first practiced Baguazhang, he would get up when the rooster crowed and practice assiduously. One time, in the Eyeglass shop, the disciples were all walking. Eyeglasses Cheng was in the central room drinking tea. Mr. Yougong was in the courtyard practicing the Turning Palms. Mr. Cheng not speak and Yougong was not allowed to stop or pause. In three years Yougong progressed greatly. When he followed Master Li Wenbiao in Fengtian looking for spies, he would practice the palms with a ten pound iron staff. He was never idle. Daily, by himself, would go out and arrest bandits. At that time, the bandits without a doubt all heard his name and lost their courage. He had a position in Headquarters Indoctrination Hall of the Northeast Army of Zhang Zuolin. He taught Baguazhang to Zhang Xueliang.

Cheng Youlong, also called Haiting, was Mr. Cheng Tinghua’s oldest son. When he was young he received Eyeglasses Cheng’s parental teachings. After he lost his father, he practiced his skills even more diligently. He later studied Taijiquan with Mr. Yang Jianhou and blended the two arts to make “Bagua Taiji Quan.” He was fair-skinned, and his nature was forthright and frank. He had a scholar’s air. He was pure in Baguazhang. He was also an expert in drawing and calligraphy. He extensively researched the principles of fighting. He also researched every nuance of the Paired Baguazhang Method and Bagua Meridian Mandarin Duck Axes. He died because he smoked too much. All of his classmates deeply mourned him.

Cheng Youxin, also called Shouting, was Mr. Cheng Tinghua’s second son. When Cheng Tinghua left this world, Youxin was only nine years old. He really never got his father’s true teachings, but learned from Cheng Tinghua’s students. They all gave him instruction and he reached a very high level. As a result of this, the instruction that he received came from many teachers. He did not receive one formal Bagua transmission. Nevertheless his skill caught up to that of his older brother, though it did not surpass it. Mr. Youxin was short and small. He was expert in lower basin stepping. Men called him ‘Cuo Ye’ (Short Uncle). The sum of his studies was his 64 Palms, only he was closefisted in teaching it. Only Mr. Liu Tanfeng got his teachings.

Principle Characteristics of Cheng Style Baguazhang

When practicing, you must walk the circle. Each circle is made up of eight steps with the idea of the feet stepping on the eight trigrams. Walk using the mud treading steps. The inside step moves straight. The outside foot slightly hooks inwards. Walking is done along the edge of the circle and is divided into upper middle and lower basins.

When the hands go out, you must have one palm reach out to the front and one palm defend in the rear. The fingers of both palms point upwards. The thumbs are open wide. The tiger’s mouths are round and push out. The remaining fingers are slightly curved. The fingers can be slightly spread or you can have the fourth and fifth fingers sticking together. The palms face the front and are naturally concave. The form of the back of the palm is like a tile. The heel of the palm pushes out. The palm strength is vigorous. It is called “Dragon Claw Palm.” The basic palm formation above is from Mr. Dong Haichuan.

The steps in Yin Style Baguazhang are small, lively, and tend towards a natural step. In Cheng Style Baguazhang, the steps are slightly larger. They change and transform at many points. Cheng Style Baguazhang is especially good at using large swing and hook steps. This is because Cheng Tinghua practiced Shuaijiao in his early days. The gripping and throwing method was blended into his Baguazhang. The swing step and hook step are truly transformed to cause tripping.

The outgoing hand in Yin Style Baguazhang is direct, with particular attention paid to suddenness, crispness, firmness, quickness, and abundant springy shaking strength. Men call it hard palm. Cheng Style Baguazhang pays attention to the interplay of hard and soft, with a lot of spiraling energy. It often has touching, sticking, continuously following, neutralizing, issuing and releasing, all coordinated together.

Cheng Style Baguazhang mainly uses hidden legs. It is very good at using the tips of the foot. When doing piercing palm, the heart of the palm faces upwards. The five fingers point to the front. The pierce goes out under the front arm. The palm method has cloud, thrust between, pierce, and strike... only it mainly uses push, uphold, pull aside, lead, parry, hook, split and advance.

Cheng Style Baguazhang is very good at holding three forms concurrently: Walking like a dragon. Turning like a monkey. Changing postures like an eagle. Sometimes it is tight and compact. Sometimes it is big and open. It is nimble, circular, and lively. It stretches out everywhere. It is especially good at twisting, wrapping, drilling, and overturning. The turning palms are like twisting rope.

The Palm Method Routines of Cheng Style Baguazhang

Mr. Cheng Tinghua had many students. For the most part they all had skill before they sought instruction from the master. Some of the students only studied a few palms before they left the teacher. They gained considerable fame among their contemporaries. Consequently by the time we get to the fourth generation, the names of the practice methods of the basic eight palms, eight big palms and their routines are no longer the same. Cheng Youlong’s student Sun Xikun wrote Genuine Transmissions of Baguazhang. In it his Eight Big Palms are: Single Change Palm, Double Change Palm, Flowing Posture Palm, Three Piercing Palms, Grinding Body Palm, Overturning Body Palm, and Returning Body Palm. Mr. Cheng Youxin was Cheng Youlong’s little brother. His Eight Big Palms do not have Three Piercing Palms, but instead have Turning Body Palm. My teacher, Luo Xingwu, asked Cheng Yougong about this business. Mr. Cheng Yougong said, “The Eight Big Palms must contain Turning Body Palm, and do not have Three Piercing Palms. Maybe Sun Xikun only had seven palms. Maybe he kept one palm secret and used Three Piercing Palms as a substitute.” Saying this, he immediately demonstrated Turning Body Palm. Therefore my teacher’s Turning Body Palm is from Cheng Yougong’s tradition and not Li Wenbiao’s teachings.

The Palm Method Routines of Cheng Style Baguazhang are:

Basic Eight Palms: Fierce Tiger Leaves the Mountain, Big Peng Spreads it Wings, Lion Opens it Big Mouth, White Ape Offers the Peach, Embrace the Moon to the Center of the Chest, Black Bear Searching Arms, Point to Heaven Insert to Ground, and Green Dragon Searching Claws.

Each palm has its own special energy and strength. Each palm has its own functional method. These are not just sections of Bagua’s palm method, but they are also the foundation of the Eight Big Palms and the 64 Palms. Therefore they are called the Basic Palms.

The Eight Big Palms: Single Change Palm, Double Change Palm, Flowing Posture Palm, Behind the Body Palm, Turning Body Palm, Grinding Body Palm, Overturning Body Palm, and Returning Body Palm.

The Eight Big Palms are not only the core routines for practicing Baguazhang skills, but they each also possess eight distinctive striking methods.

Single Change Palm is the outgoing hand already striking. All of a sudden it appears and it is over. Double Change Palm is a continuation of Single Change Palm, doing two or three strikes in a row. Flowing Posture Palm goes in the same direction as the opponent’s incoming hand. The energy and strength flow with the posture and yet strike. Behind the Body Palm goes contrary to the opponent’s incoming hand’s direction, contrary to energy and strength and yet strike. Turning Body Palm is turning to the left and right in front of the enemy. It has the left rotating and right turning striking methods. Grinding Body Palm uses toeing in and toeing out stepping in place in front of the enemy. It uses close-in striking. Overturning Body Palm uses suddenly turning over the body to strike in adverse circumstances. Returning Body Palm uses striking and then immediately walking away. Suddenly you turn back and strike again. Thereby defeating your opponent by a surprise move. Thus, the saying: “If you have Single , then you must have Double. If you have Flowing then you must have Behind. Turning Body Palm rotates left and turns right. Grinding Body Palm is not far from the enemy’s body. Overturning Body Palm is like the overturning body of a python, it defeats ones opponent by a surprise move. Returning Body Palm strikes and then walks away, walks and also returns. It is like a sparrowhawk turning back its head to grips its body.”

64 Palms: Though not included in the Eight Big Palms, each palm again adds seven palms. Together they are called Single Change Eight Palms. These are eight kinds strikes having the outgoing hand striking suddenly and being suddenly done. Double Change Eight Palms continues from Single Change Palm. It has eight types of strikes done two or three times in succession. Flowing Posture Eight Palms has eight types of strikes moving in the same direction as the opponent’s incoming hand’s direction. Behind the Body Eight Palms has eight types of strikes that go contrary to the opponent’s incoming hand’s direction, energy, and strength. Turning Body Eight Palms has eight types of strikes done now to the left and now to the right in front of the enemy. Grinding Body Eight Palms has eight types of strikes toeing in and toeing out in place close to the body in front of the enemy. Overturning Body Eight Palms has eight types of suddenly overturning the body to strike in adverse circumstances to defeat the opponent by a surprise move. Returning Body Eight Palms has eight types of striking and walking away, walking and also returning to strike.

The 64 Palms is a complete summation of the practice methods that Master Cheng Youxin learned from Master Cheng Tinghua and all of his classmates. truly is second generation, third generation and master Cheng Youxin’s 50 years painstaking training. By practicing the 64 Palms, not only can you strengthen your skill, but you can enrich the palm methods, and it can even help you to grasp the skills and essentials of Baguazhang.

Swimming Body Connected Palms: Swimming Body Connected Palms consists of the Basic Palms, Eight Big Palms, and the 64 Palms reorganized into connected routines. It can be used for participating in competitions and performances. It provides the practitioner with aesthetic grace. By practicing it you will strengthen your awareness of attack and defense. It will add many more changes to the palm method. The body method will become more agile. The stepping method will become still more ingenious. The skill will become richer. By going through with the training, the whole body, each muscle, joint, and organ, all parts of each physiological system get trained. It dispels disease, strengthens the body, and is a means of prolonging life.

Cheng Style Baguazhang Weapons Routines

Master Dong Haichuan was very good at the saber method. Master Dong’s epitaph says: “Dong’s hands went inches past his knees, therefore fists and palms many leave the man unexpected, all difficult defend against.” The length of the body of the Bagua saber is 4 feet 2 inches. Add this to the fact that Master Dong’s hands reached past his knees, we are approaching seven feet of length and beyond. We can infer that Master Dong, when he had a saber in his hand, was an impressive and extraordinary sight to behold. Therefore all of Master Dong’s students were good at the Bagua saber method. Cheng Style Baguazhang has in it Rolling Hand Saber, Point the Road Saber, Crowd Blocking Saber, and using the principles of walking and turning is Turning Saber.

Cheng Style Baguazhang has the sword method in it. Sun Lutang wrote a book A Study of Bagua Sword. Master Sun Xikun also has a sword method in his True Transmission of Baguazhang. The sword’s style and functional method are similar to the Bagua Saber. The Bagua sword has two edges, and besides the saber-like methods, there are the many uses of the sword’s point.

There are spear methods in Cheng Style Baguazhang, many of which are from the teachings of Big Spear Liu Dekuan. After Master Cheng Tinghua died, Big Spear Liu was the acting teacher and controlled the junior apprentices. He did his best to teach them, and give guidance and support to the less advanced. His transmission has Fighting Body Spear, Eight Spear, Black and White Sparrowhawk, Small Sparrowhawk, the method of the halberd, qinna methods and the straight line practice of 64 Hands.

#sifu kisu #lok #atlab #northern shaolin #kung fu #northern shaolim #atlab lok #jian #baguazhang #piandao

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vintagepresley · 2 years ago

Text

Pretty Baby

Chapter Two: There's An Art To This

Pairing: Elvis Presley x OC Reader

Word Count: 6, 963 words

Warnings: 18+ Cursing, mention of pills, smoking, talks of porn, typical Elvis stuff. That's about it. Nothing too crazy this chapter.

Author's Notes: Hi besties, I'm so happy that some of you that had read the first chapter really enjoyed it! I wasn't too sure how well it would do. But I'm happy to know this story already has some fans. Once again, this is starting off a bit slow. But we will be getting to some juicy stuff next chapter. I'm not promising any smut but there will be some angst. But we WILL get to the smut very soon. This is more of a slow burn type of story as I mentioned before. But I hope you enjoy this next chapter and the cute little banter between these two as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also peep the Elvis phone bit I took from Joyce Bova’s book, lol. Possible spelling errors.

Pretty Baby series

Elvis let out a soft hum as he settled into the backseat of his Cadillac as Lamar pulled off from Rebecca’s house. He informed Joe who sat across from him that he wanted to make arrangements to have his things brought from the hotel in Uniondale into a hotel in the city. He wanted to be close to Rebecca for their dinner tomorrow night. In Elvis’ mind the dinner was a date. He smiled down at the phone number scribbled in the palm of his hand, his mind on one thing, Rebecca. He couldn’t get her out of his mind the entire ride to the new hotel or those big green eyes of hers. There was just something about her that had him completely hooked that he needed to know more about her. She may have been 20 years younger than him, but she seemed wiser beyond her years just from their little conversation alone. Once he arrived at his new hotel in Manhattan; Red, Sonny, and Charlie walked with Elvis inside as they made arrangements for his stay as Joe used a payphone to contact Jerry who was back in Uniondale and telling him about the new arrangements and how they needed Elvis’ things brought to Manhattan. Meanwhile once they got the room squared away Elvis walked with the guys up to his suite and all he was concerned with was getting to a phone and calling Rebecca. He wanted to get a time down for their date before she got a chance to consider changing her mind. Not that he thought she would, but she seemed unpredictable and he didn’t want her to get away that easily from him.

Back in The Village Rebecca couldn’t make sense of what happened that night. Did she really just agree to go to dinner with Elvis Presley? She wasn’t sure if she should tell her friends because they probably wouldn’t believe her. But she wanted to tell someone because it just didn’t seem real and she was still a bit weary of him or what his intentions were especially with him being an older man, they usually only wanted one thing from her when they find out what she does for a living. But he seemed trusting enough and if it didn’t work out it’d be an interesting story to tell people in the future. She went off to her room to get showered and dressed in a tank top and just a pair of black underwear and headed downstairs where she plopped down on the couch, smoked a joint and watched television. The thought of Elvis lingered in the back of her mind. She had wondered if he’d call tonight or if he’d call at all. After some time had passed she heard the front door opening the voices of both of her roommates, she smiled as she saw the two of them and was even happier to see that they had grabbed chinese for dinner. Paul, who she had met at one of the gay clubs in the city a couple years back, was practically her other half; they became quick friends and he offered her a room in his place and she’s been there ever since. Abby was Paul’s friend and was already living there with him, she and Abby got along fast because they had a lot in common and shared similar interests. They were the only two people she trusted more than anyone.

“Perfect, you got dinner!” Rebecca laughed as she put out her joint and got up to kiss Paul’s cheek as she snatched the bag from his hands and set it on the coffee table.

“I figured you’d forget it was your turn to get dinner this time.” Paul chuckled as he plopped down beside her and unpacked the food from the bag. Rebecca had a cheeky grin on her face because she did in fact forget especially with everything going on with Elvis. How could she remember to grab dinner?

“I’m going to get showered and I’ll be back down.” Abby hummed as she made her way toward the steps. “And don’t touch my eggroll, Paul!” she yelled from the top of the steps. Paul and Rebecca laughed softly.

Rebecca grabbed the carton of lo mein and some chopsticks and began to eat her food. “How was your day?” Paul asked with a smile. Rebecca raised an eyebrow at his words as she swallowed her food.

“Fine.. Just like any other day. Why? Nothing special happened.” She asked suspiciously.

Paul laughed.

“I’m just asking. Why are you so defensive?” he uttered.

“I’m not defensive.” Rebecca said softly as she rolled her eyes and continued to eat her food. Paul chuckled and shrugged as he began to eat. She didn’t mean to get defensive but Elvis was still on her mind and it felt as if people knew about her encounter with him when they didn’t. Abby soon joined them back downstairs and the three of them settled into the couch eating their chinese food.

Elvis had been settling into his hotel suite as he waited for Jerry to arrive with his things which would be some time with the traffic. While he waited he asked one of the guys to get some food ordered up to the room and he went off to his bedroom, shutting the door and sitting down on the bed and staring back at the phone number on his palm again, a smile gracing his lips as he picked up the phone and dialed the number. For a moment as the line trilled, he thought about what if she had given him a false number. But he had hoped she wouldn’t have done that to him. Paul was in the kitchen as the phone began to ring and he went to answer it.

“Hello?” he answered.

Elvis furrowed his brow when he heard a man answer the phone and now his mind was running wild. Maybe she did give me a false number. Or maybe this is her boyfriend? “Uh… Hello. Is, uh.. Rebecca there?” Elvis mumbled softly.

“Yeah, I’ll get her for you.” Paul replied as he set the phone down and headed back into the living room. “Becca, some guy with a southern accent is on the phone asking for you.” Paul said. Rebecca raised an eyebrow and the two of her friends were giving her a look as if there was something she wasn’t telling them. It couldn’t be Elvis.. If it is, he sure doesn’t waste any time. She thought to herself as she set her food down and got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. She picked up the phone and held it against her ear as she glanced back toward the living room to see Paul and Abby looking in her direction before they turned their attention back to the television acting as if they weren’t listening.

“Hello? Elvis?” Rebecca said in a hushed tone.

“Hey, honey.” Elvis hummed with a smile when he heard her voice.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at him calling her honey again, but she gave up on correcting him and she glanced back at her friends once again as she held the phone close. “I wasn’t expecting you to call so soon.” she whispered.

“I told ya I’d call, honey. Say, uh.. Who was that guy that answered the phone? Your boyfriend? You never said ya had a man..” Elvis murmured, feeling a bit disappointed if she already had someone. He raised an eyebrow when he heard Rebecca suddenly laughing on the other end. She practically started giggling at his assumption especially since Paul was gay. Her friends peered their heads in at the sound of her giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Elvis asked curiously.

“Oh, nothing.. I don’t have a man. That was my roommate.” she said as she rolled her eyes.

Elvis raised an eyebrow at her words. “Your roommate’s a guy?” he said with a hint of jealousy in his voice. Rebecca giggled again; she just found the whole thing hilarious.

“Oh, relax. I can hear the jealousy in your voice. Besides, Paul's gay.” she said nonchalantly. There was a silence from his end of the phone but the sound of his breathing quietly escaping from her end.

“O-Oh.. Oh okay, ya got any other roommates I should know ‘bout?” he asked.

“Just my friend, Abby. That’s it.” She said with a smirk.

“Mm.. So, what time are ya free for dinner tomorrow?” Elvis asked with a smile. Rebecca took another glance back at her friends who were now preoccupied with the newest episode of ‘The Mary Tyler Moore Show’. Her attention back on Elvis now she took a moment to think as a small hum escaped her lips.

“Pick me up at 7:00. Don’t be late.” Rebecca said sternly.

Elvis laughed. “Yes, ma’am.. I’ll be there at 7:00.” Elvis assured her.

“Good. Well, I’ve gotta go. Bye, Elvis.” Rebecca hummed.

“Bye, Rebecca. Have a goodnight, honey.” Elvis said with a smile before she hung up and he held the phone for a moment as he listened to the dial tone humming into his ear before he put the phone back on the hook. Elvis made sure to write her number down before he got up and headed back out to join the guys for dinner.

Rebecca had a small smile on her lips and quickly snapped herself back to reality not wanting to swoon over this man like women typically do. It was just dinner and that’s it. She cleared her throat and headed back into the living room where Abby and Paul looked right at her with grins on their faces. Rebecca folded her arms over her chest. “What??” she said with a bit of an attitude.

Paul chuckled as he and Abby shared a look before they looked back at her. “Nothing. We just didn’t know you were seeing someone.” Abby answered.

Rebecca shook her head as a soft scoff escaped her lips. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’s just dinner.” she remarked.

“Uh huh.. Who is this mysterious southern gentleman you’re having “just dinner” with then?” Paul teased.

Rebecca couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the two of them. Why was she suddenly on trial? It was just dinner. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you who he was.” she replied.

Now she had gotten their attention and Abby quickly muted the television and the two of them were practically at the edge of their seats as she had their full attention now, desperately wanting to know the name of the mystery man. “Man, now you’ve gotta tell us!” Abby pleaded.

“Spill the details. Is it someone we know?” Paul questioned.

Rebecca couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her at his question. “Maybe someone your parents know..” she mumbled under her breath as she sat in the chair across from them. “When I tell you it cannot leave this room. I mean it.” she said in a serious tone. Now their eyes were wide which only furthered the need for them to know even more. Rebecca took a deep breath trying to find the words to tell them because just the thought of saying it outloud now just sounded ridiculous. “It’s Elvis Presley.” she blurted out. She scanned their faces trying to get a read on their reactions. The two of them were visibly shocked.

“Isn’t he like…. super old?” Abby uttered.

Paul laughed softly at her comment.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at Abby’s response. “That’s the first thought you have? He’s not that old. Besides, what does that matter? It’s just dinner.” Rebecca remarked.

“Yes, we know you’ve repeated it several times. It’s just dinner. How the hell did you end up going to dinner with Elvis???” Paul chimed in.

“It’s a long story that we can talk about another day. But now you guys know.” Rebecca hummed as shrugged and stood back up. “I’m gonna head to bed.” she said softly as she made her way upstairs, leaving the two of them still completely in shock by the news. It was probably best for them to know so she wouldn’t have to sneak around in case things went a little further which she wasn’t counting on. She climbed into bed and under the covers, reaching over to turn her lap off and she laid there staring up at the ceiling as she got lost in thought and strangely enough a part of her was nervous for this dinner, while the other part was curious. But the natural instinct in her kept telling her not to trust him. She laid there for nearly an hour with Elvis on her mind before she had fallen asleep.

Meanwhile back at Elvis’ hotel his night was far from over and once Jerry finally arrived with Elvis’ things they got everything situated. He and the guys horsed around after dinner and talked about the interesting day they had on a porn set and they talked about some of the girls. But they were careful not to bring up Rebecca. Elvis engaged for a bit, but he would get lost in and out of his thoughts about her. It wasn’t until Sonny began to speak about her with the other guys that caught his attention. Which had the rest of them not wanting to say too much about her because they could see Elvis had taken an interest in her. But Sonny, a few drinks in didn’t seem to care as he began to ramble on.

“Man, oh man, that one chick we drove home, goddamn she was hot.” Sonny shouted to the group. Elvis raised an eyebrow as he stared at Sonny. Red and Charlie tried to get him to sit down and shut up when they saw the look on Elvis’ face.

“Sonny, shut up and sit your ass down, man.” Red mumbled.

But Sonny couldn’t stop himself. “And did ya see the tits on her? Whew, man and with a pussy like that, I’d sure like to watch her in action again.” he said drunkenly with a laugh. Elvis clenched his jaw at his words and his eyes were narrowed as he quickly stood up from the couch and guys knew not to get involved as Elvis approached Sonny and he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“What the hell did ya just say?!” Elvis shouted angrily.

A drunken Sonny was wide eyed and confused as he stared at Elvis. “Aw man, I-I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.” he uttered. Elvis gripped his collar tighter as he got in his face, he was so angry you could practically see the steam radiating off of him after hearing Sonny speak about Rebecca that way.

“Keep your goddamn mouth shut when it comes to that girl! Ya hear me?! Don’t even fuckin’ look at her!” Elvis snarled as he let the man go pushing him away causing him to nearly fall as he began to head to his bedroom. “Get the hell out of here! All of y’all!” Elvis hollered as he slammed the door shut. They all did as they were told and hurried out of his hotel suite. Elvis knew that lots of men who probably saw her in those films probably spoke the same way about her, but he’d be damned if he let any of the guys speak about her in such a way. She was more than that. Just speaking to her in such a short amount of time he could tell she wasn’t meant to be doing that kind of work. He was determined to be able to help her out of it anyway he could. The anticipation for their date tomorrow night was driving him crazy. She was all he could think about and those eyes that were burned right into his mind. He couldn’t wait to get to know her more.

Elvis got dressed for bed and he took a couple pills to help with his insomnia and he climbed into bed. He figured he should call Linda and check in with her. Things between the two of them haven’t been great. She wasn’t in the dark about the women he would be seeing when she wasn’t around. But this time things felt different. He just didn’t feel in love anymore. He honestly felt so lonely and was searching for someone to take that feeling away. Their conversation was a short one as he made his usual promises to her and professed his love to her as they told each other goodnight. Once he was off the phone he grabbed a book off the nightstand and read a few pages until his pills kicked in and he fell into a deep sleep with the book opened on his chest.

The Next Day

Rebecca awoke sometime late in the afternoon and she could only think about one thing and that was Elvis and their dinner later tonight. She thought about canceling or not even answering the door when he showed up. She was starting to think this was a bad idea because she just wasn’t sure what his intentions were or if he was just trying to sleep with her. But her curiosity about him she just couldn’t shake. She wasn’t sure what she was going to wear and she spent a good portion of the afternoon searching through her closet for an outfit. She didn’t want to wear something that gave him any ideas that he’d be getting laid. But she also didn’t want to appear as if she had no idea how to dress. She finally settled on a floral bell sleeved crop top that tied in the front and dark blue bell bottoms with a pair of black platform heels. By the time she had finally found what to wear and had it laid out on her bed her room was a mess and it was already going on at 4:30pm. She still had to decide on how to style her hair and how she was going to do her makeup. She stripped off her pajamas and slipped into the bathroom to take a long hot shower.

It was typical of Elvis to wake up late in the afternoon but for once he was up earlier than that. He had breakfast and watched a bit of television and hung out with the guys for a bit. He couldn’t wait for tonight. He managed to get the restaurant in the hotel closed just for the two of them so they wouldn’t be bothered. When the rest of the guys had left to go explore the city Jerry had stayed behind to hangout with Elvis and got to talking about Rebecca since Jerry didn’t get a chance to see her.

“Man, just wait til ya see this girl, Jerry. She’s beautiful.” Elvis hummed with a smile.

“I’m sure she is. I can’t wait to meet her.” Jerry replied.

“And she’s got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. Can’t get ‘em out of my head.” Elvis laughed.

Elvis just went on and on about her which only furthered Jerry’s curiosity about this girl and what she looked like because it was easy to spot that Elvis was completely smitten with her already, but that wasn’t any different than usual. He was always like that with women but Jerry noticed this was a little different. After a while Jerry headed back to his room to allow Elvis to get ready as it was getting closer and closer to his date. He showered, shaved and came back out in his robe, looking through his clothes and deciding on a two tone light blue and dark blue suit and a light blue button up shirt to wear underneath and in the usual Elvis fashion it had a high collar and belt to match. He also added some of his gaudy jewelry to the look along with a choker. He styled his hair in the usual way and grabbed his glasses and picked up the phone calling down to Joe’s room.

“Hello?” Joe answered.

“Does Lamar have the car ready? I don’t want to be late, dammit.” Elvis demanded.

“Yeah, he’s waiting out front. Did you want us all to come with you?” Joe replied.

“Nah, I’ll just take Jerry and Charlie with me. I’ll meet y’all down at the restaurant when we come back.” Elvis answered before the two men ended their conversation and hung up.

Rebecca was hurrying to get her hair and make up down, choosing to go with a more natural look. She put on a little foundation, a bit of blush just to give her cheeks a rosy look and she put on mascara and colored in her eyebrows, putting on a shade of light pink lipstick. Then she curled her hair brushing it out so the curls were a bit looser. Once she had finished she went to get dressed and put on some earrings and a matching necklace. For the finishing touches she spritzed a bit of her Jean Nate perfume on her wrists and her neck before looking at herself in the mirror and exhaling softly before she grabbed her purse and headed downstairs to wait for Elvis. He better not be late. She thought to herself as she paced back and forth in the living room.

Jerry and Charlie walked closely with Elvis as they got him downstairs to the car and hopped inside behind him. Elvis looked at his watch, seeing that it was already 6:30pm, but they weren’t too far from her house and the traffic didn’t seem too crazy yet. Lamar began their drive to The Village. Rebecca stared at the clock and she didn’t understand why she felt nervous, she rifled through her purse to grab a cigarette to calm her down and she lit up, taking a big drag from it before exhaling and she could feel herself calming down. As time ticked away, she looked up at the clock again to see that it was now 6:50pm. She walked over to peer out of the curtains not seeing a car yet. Five minutes went by and at 6:55pm Elvis was pulling up to her front door in his fancy cadillac and he ran his hands over his suit to soothe it out as he let out a small exhale as Charlie got out to open the door for him and Jerry followed behind him as he approached her door. Elvis knocked lightly and Rebecca felt her heart drop, part of her had hoped he forgot all about this dinner. She took another glance at herself before she went to open the door, she raised an eyebrow at him seeing his outfit which was flashier than what he was wearing last night and she glanced at the clock.

“Well, right on time.” she hummed.

Elvis smiled widely at the sight of her.

“Told ya I wouldn’t be late, honey. You look beautiful.” Elvis responded.

Jerry could see why Elvis was a little obsessed with her. She really was beautiful and he wasn’t kidding about her eyes. Rebecca recognized Charlie and Lamar who were sitting in the car. but Jerry was new.

“Thank you. I see you didn’t come alone.” she said softly as she stepped out the house and locked the door behind her.

Elvis chuckled as he reached out for her hand to help her down the steps, but she swatted him away. “I got it.” she murmured.

“Of course ya do, honey and I told ya we wouldn’t be alone. No funny business like you asked.” Elvis replied as the two of them made their way to the car and got inside. Just like last night she didn’t sit too close to him and she stared at the other two men as Lamar headed back to the hotel. Rebecca looked over at Elvis who was already staring at her with a wide smile on his face.

“So, where are we going?” she asked.

“Well, it’s kinda hard for me to go anywhere without being mobbed. I thought we’d have dinner at the restaurant at the hotel I’m staying at. I managed to get it closed just for us.” Elvis responded.

Rebecca nodded and she wasn’t surprised he was able to get a whole restaurant shut down just for him. Elvis continued to stare at her and he cleared his throat a bit. “Y’know you can sit a little closer. I ain’t gonna bite.” Elvis laughed.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow at him and shook her head. “I’m okay right here.” she hummed. Elvis nodded and couldn’t help but smirk a bit to himself because he felt she was determined to not get too close to him or maybe not even like him. When they finally returned to the hotel and got out of the car, Elvis slipped his hand around her waist as they walked inside and she looked over at him with a look that only made him laugh. She was going to be a challenge for him and he loved that. As they approached the restaurant the rest of the guys were already there sitting at another table. Jerry, Lamar, and Charlie joined them while Elvis led Rebecca over to another table just for the two of them. He pulled her chair out for her and she wanted to roll her eyes so badly, but didn’t as she sat down.

“Thank you.” she mumbled. Elvis nodded and took a seat right across from her. She noticed that dinner was already on the table for them. She was surprised to see that someone of his celebrity status didn’t aim for a fancy dinner but something simple like burgers, fries and a couple of cokes. That made her smile a little because she felt it took some of the pressure off. Elvis noticed the smile on her face.

“Well hell, you should smile more often. It’s gorgeous on you.” he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes as she smiled more, shaking her head. When she saw him start to eat she followed right behind him. Things felt a bit awkward at first as the two of them didn’t really say much and just continued to eat. The faint sounds of his friends chatting away filled the room. As Elvis swallowed his food he looked at her again.

“I’m happy you agreed to this date, honey.” he said warmly. Rebecca raised an eyebrow at him.

“Who said this was a date?” she remarked.

“Is it not?” Elvis replied.

“No, it’s just two people talking and having dinner.” she answered.

“So.. A date.” Elvis said with a chuckle.

“Whatever. If that’s what you want to call it.” Rebecca said with a smile.

He grinned and when he finished his food he wiped his mouth with his napkin and she pushed away what she had left and drank a bit of her coke before she lit a cigarette and stared at him as she took a drag. Elvis raised an eyebrow as he watched her smoke.

“Y’know.. You shouldn’t smoke so much.” he says.

Rebecca furrowed her brow at him as she purposely took a bigger drag and blew the smoke in his direction with a smirk.

“You’re gonna lecture me now on smoking? Thanks for the heads up, dad.” she said sarcastically.

Elvis shot her a look because of her sarcastic tone which he was still getting used to. The two of them stared at each other for a moment before they both started to just laugh. It felt like the ice was finally beginning to break between the two of them as they began to engage in conversation.

“Can I ask ya something? I hope I don’t offend you.” Elvis asked.

“Ooh, this should be good! Ask away.” Rebecca said happily as she put her cigarette out.

“What made you get into porn?” Elvis questioned.

Rebecca had a feeling that was going to be his question because that was always the first question people wanted to know. She never had an issue answering either. She smiled at him as she took another swig of her coke.

“I know it’ll sound cliche. But growing up in the midwest I’ve always had dreams of coming to New York and becoming an actress. I love movies and also admire actors and actresses and felt it was something I could do. Something I can still do. So, I moved here at 17 and struggled for some time trying to get auditions and a year later I saw this one company was looking for girls for an “artsy” film. I thought it could be a start, you know? Turns out that artsy film was porn. By that point, I didn’t have money and it was a job. So, in hopes of being discovered for what I really want to do, I did it. I’ve been doing it since.” she said with a shrug.

Elvis listened intently to her every word, finding her story fascinating. He only just met her but he could see she could be doing more with her life. More than just porn. She had the face for movies and already looked like a movie star.

“Have ya thought about trying to find real acting jobs? Y’know, doing something where you could be creating real art. You seem to be wastin’ your talent with porn.” Elvis asked.

She laughed at his words.

“I have and I still do. But who’s gonna take a pornstar and make her a real actress? And hey, who says porn isn’t art? There’s an art to this. But men don’t see that because you’re always concerned with the pussy and the fucking.” Rebecca said with a small laugh.

“Oh? Now I’d love to hear more.” Elvis replied, completely fascinated with the conversation.

“Well, just think about it. There’s always a story being told that leads up to the fucking. They don’t just start fucking. There’s this huge build up. But men don’t ever notice that. Hell, you don’t even care about the story that’s being told. Sometimes the story is more interesting than the fucking. Trust me.” she explained.

Elvis raised an eyebrow and smirked a bit.

“You’re telling me a dirty movie like Deep Throat has a story to tell and it’s not just about her sucking dick?” Elvis laughed.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, man. Deep Throat pathed the way for the porn that now have these detailed stories of how two people end up fucking. They get real creative.” she answered.

“Wow, I never thought of it like that.” Elvis responded as he smiled at her.

“Men never do.” she said with a smirk.

“You’re somethin’ else, ya know that?” Elvis hummed.

Rebecca smiled at him and she could feel her walls coming down as the two of them continued to talk about their families and their jobs. Elvis mentioned his daughter to her and showed her pictures. Rebecca wasn’t expecting the night to go so well or to even find him this interesting but once they started talking they couldn’t stop. As the night went on they had been talking till nearly midnight. When Rebecca noticed the time she suggested she’d get home. Elvis respected her wishes and had Lamar bring the car around so they could take her back home. On the drive back to her house she was now sitting beside him feeling a bit more comfortable with him after getting to know him more and seeing what a gentleman he had been the whole night. Elvis smiled and they continued to talk some more the entire drive.

Once she got back home he got out to walk her to the door.

“I told you last night I’m a big girl.” She laughed.

“You can never be too careful, honey.” he hummed as he smiled at her.

The two of them stood on her front porch and stared at one another for a moment.

“So, I really had a nice time with you tonight. Unfortunately, I’ve gotta leave tonight to continue my tour. But I’d like to set somethin’ up and come back out so we could do this again, honey.” Elvis said.

Rebecca nodded and smiled at his words. She had to admit she wanted to do this again. She actually had a really nice time with him and it was the first time she had an intellectual conversation with a man who didn’t want something in return from her. He actually listened to her. She was surprised to see just how smart and deep he was.

“I’d like that, Elvis.” she hummed as she leaned over to kiss his cheek before they said their goodbyes and she headed into her apartment, she watched from the window as he smiled to himself and got back into the car and Lamar drove him away.

For next few months Elvis would fly out to New York and the two of them would have dinner in some hotel lobby restaurant or sometimes in his suite with the guys always present as he promised. The two of them would talk about everything and anything. Film, music, books, spirituality. They never ran out of things to talk about and the relationship was growing closer each time. She really began to look up to Elvis and saw him as a sort of a mentor and a friend. She felt such a closeness to him in a short amount of time because of how much they seemed to have in common especially with their age difference. But it was a closeness and a friendship they both needed because they were two people searching for something more. Eventually Elvis convinced to get a phone put in that he bought that would be just for him to call. She named it ‘The Elvis Phone.” Whenever he wanted to get in contact with her that phone rang, sometimes it would be him and sometimes it would be Charlie letting her know he was coming to town. But it was getting hard for Elvis to make these trips because he could tell Linda was growing suspicious as to why he was always flying to New York. She always turned a blind eye to his other women. But something was different this time. He saw her less and grew more and more distant as the months went on.

The Ritz Carlton - New York - December 1975

Elvis and Rebecca were having their usual dinner of burgers and fries with a couple of cokes and as their night was dwindling down and nearing an end. Elvis smiled at her and rested his hand on top of hers and she flashed him a smile. She could tell something was on his mind because he kept staring at her as if he wanted to ask her something.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

Elvis chuckled.

“Well, I wanted to ask ya something. I’ve got to head out to Vegas to fulfill my engagement there at the International and I’ll be there for a few weeks. So, we won’t be able to do this. So.. uh.. I was wonderin’ if you’d come out and spend a week or two with me. Just so we can continue to have our dinners.” Elvis replied.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow at his words and she carefully pulled her hand away from him.

“Um, I don’t know.. You know with work and everything. I can’t afford to miss out on pay. I’ve got responsibilities. I also can’t afford Vegas” she uttered hesitantly. She didn’t really like the idea of being away with him for two weeks. Yes, she’d miss their dinners if he couldn’t come out to see her. But together in Vegas? She just wasn’t sure. Even though she felt like she could trust him she still had her guard up once in a while with him.

“Listen, I’ll pay you what you’d get working. You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing if you came out. The room would be paid for and I’d take care of it all, honey.” Elvis assured her.

She shifted a bit in her seat and she shook her head. “I don’t want your money, Elvis. I don’t want that to become a thing in this friendship.” she responded.

Elvis raised an eyebrow when she called them friends. Elvis felt more than just a friend to her, so that hurt a bit. But he wasn’t going to get into that now. He shook his head at her.

“Well as a friend I want to help you and I’d like you in Vegas with me. Please?” he hummed.

She let out a soft sigh. “Can I think about it?” she asked.

He nodded once. “You can. But I’m leavin’ tonight. So, I’d need an answer soon.” Elvis replied.

She nodded at his words as their dinner came to an end Elvis took her back home and as usual she kissed his cheek goodnight and thanked him for dinner.

“I’ll give you a call in about an hour. I hope you decide to come.” Elvis mumbled before the two of them parted ways and she headed inside to find her friends sitting on the couch and they could see the puzzled look on her face as a soft sigh escaped her.

“Everything okay, Becca?” Abby asked.

Rebecca nodded as she came to sit beside them. “Elvis asked me to come to Vegas with him for two weeks. But I don’t think I’m going to go.” she said softly.

Paul nearly shot up in his seat as he looked at her. “What? Why not?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just.. I don’t know. I just have this feeling that I shouldn’t go. I’ve enjoyed my time with him, but two weeks in Vegas? With him? I don’t know.” Rebecca remarked.

“You’d be crazy not to go, man. You practically spend so much time with him when he’s here and if you didn’t like him a little bit, I’m sure you wouldn’t have gone out with him as much as you have these past few months.” Abby chimed in.

“Exactly. We see the way you light up when the Elvis phone rings.” Paul adds.

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just become a good friend to talk to and we have a lot in common.” She says.

“Even still. There’s something about him you like even if you won’t admit to anyone or yourself. So, don’t be stupid. Go to Vegas with him, man.” Abby responded.

Deep down Rebecca knew that the both of them were right. She did like Elvis but not in that way. But she did begin to care for him as friends do. But that was it; her feelings for him was purely friendship on her end and she didn’t want anything to ruin that. But she would be stupid to say no to him plus she’d get a chance to see him in his element which she hadn’t gotten a chance to do yet. He’s seen plenty of her. She got up from her seat and smiled.

“Alright, I’ll go. This is why I can always count on you guys to get me out of my own head.” She said with a small laugh. They chuckled as they watched her rush upstairs. She headed to her room and went to her closet to get her suitcase and she knew she didn’t have a lot of time to pack especially with him calling shortly for her answer. She grabbed what clothes she could and packed them into her suitcase along with her makeup, toothbrush and curling iron. She needed another suitcase just for her shoes as she rushed around the messy room making sure she had everything she needed and in the midst of all of this the Elvis phone began to ring and she smiled as she stopped what she was doing and went over to answer it.

“Elvis?!” she answered.

He chuckled at the way she answered the phone.

“Hi, honey. Have ya thought about it?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ve decided I’ll go. But just for two weeks.” she replied.

She wouldn’t know it but he had the biggest smile on his face when he heard her answer. Now all he had to do was keep Linda from coming out for those two weeks.

“Perfect. I’ll have Lamar come pick you up soon and I’ll meet ya at the airport.” he said softly.

Once they got off the phone she finished up packing and she decided to let the director of her next film know she’d need a replacement and before she knew it Lamar was back out front with the cadillac and she said her goodbyes to her friends as she headed out the door and into the car, taking a deep breath as she got into the car and Lamar packed her bags into the trunk and on their way to JFK airport she stared out the window and her thoughts ran wild and she hoped that she was she doing the right thing. As they got to the airport Elvis was already there waiting for her on the steps of the plane and she got out of the car and Lamar carried her bags for her as she made her way over and up the steps to Elvis who had the biggest grin on his face as he greeted her. The two set out for Sin City together as they boarded the plane, unaware of what was to come during the next two weeks.

Las Vegas is calling and I must go….

Tagging: @18lkpeters @peaceloveelvis @iloveelvis @elvispresleygf @wanderingelvis @richardslady121 @dkayfixates @jfkkenndy @coolgirl462 @kendralavon7 @honey6578 @azzawrites @marie73ep @wanderlustingtomboy @literally-just-elvis-fics

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