#common sect L

[mosscub]

at the rpcs revolution fest conference rn, and the other sects are not sending their best to give really weak comments outside lol

like you came all the way here, say something worthwhile not just "nuh uh" like come on

[not-so-superheroine]

how did you come to join rlds/coc?

Sorry it took me so long to get to this question. I just knew it was a long answer.

I think my testimony gives a good idea, and i'll include . Because I felt the presence of God calling me to go join them is the overarching answer, but I can also give points that drew me in.

But in a few some points: 

I fell in love with the modern RLDS version of zion (and some of the old one too. nothing to do with israel.)

I saw they strived to be an inclusive place.

The Community of Christ's Enduring Principles are things I want to strive to live my life by.

The community made me feel very welcome and I saw people conduct themselves in a Christ-like manner

The community is very tight knit. society needs more of that.

Like, there is a certain behavioral affect (? cultural distinction?) that many members have that i thought was strange at first but it’s lovely. It’s kind, loving, and welcoming, and you adjust to it very quickly imo. Even to the lingo, which was a fun process. 

Continuing Revelation. Saw evidence of fulfilled prophecy in the Doctrine and Covenants and the spiritual growth in the church over the years

Continuing Revelation in general. I like that my faith is alive like that. We have prophets, God could reveal new truths for new scripture tomorrow. We are encouraged to be prophetic ourselves and discern the future together, i like that.

Also, no new scripture allowed in the mainstream? why not? does God still not talk in this way? great points in my head.

The communal aspect to everything is good. Just like how any sect of mormonism should imo The people i reached out to while seeking (investigating) were very kind to me and open to my questions. They were also there for me spiritually, and became friends. 

I could email leadership with questions and get responses. At one point, one of the church Presidents reached out to me. 

It’s academically welcoming. I was able to accept the book of Mormon as scripture when taught from a 19th century point of view. This, in turn, made me much more comfortable with the Bible. Community of Christ has an official statement on how to read scripture and there is scripture on how to think about and use scripture too.

I can even acknowledge when the history and the religious text don’t match. Because scripture doesn’t need to be historically correct to be sacred and hold an important message from the Lord.

Not really a reason but it is there: Joseph Smith III rocked and was intended to be next. It shouldn’t matter. But what does matter is that he set the church on a good path imo. Emma too. Out of all the early schisms of mormonism I would have to go RLDS belief wise, because Nauvoo era theology isn’t something I believe in. I think Smith got caught up in his own head and desires for much of it. No offense meant to post Nauvoo mormon sects.

This does not mean I haven’t picked some things up from Brighamites. For example, Trinity doesn’t work for me. And I pray to Heavenly Mother. I believe in one Divine source with many expressions. But that doesn’t mean “anything goes” and I accept it, just knowing that God speaks to people of many cultures all over, as the good book (of mormon) says.

But yes. This is why Community of Christ. Not that there are all common Community of Christ beliefs, but I thrive here spiritually and am encouraged to grow all the same.  Older testimony under cut that gives detail

I encourage y'all to watch this on video rather than just the text edited version i put here. not to be like "watch my talk on it" but please, watch my talk on the subject. I also talk about unity of the saints and what i have learned from other christians including other groups of latter day saints. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8w2M6PEKfg

I start giving my testimony and talk at 26:36

____________

I am Wednesday. Here I share a portion of myself and my testimony. At the time of this writing, I have lived 26 years. I am a Black woman of Gullah/Geechee ethnicity. I was raised in the African Methodist Episcopal church, which I am extremely grateful for. My nascent spirituality was nurtured here. I learned the meaning of community and was immersed in my culture. I was taught to love and respect my Black self, in a society that would not be inclined to show me the respect and love any human deserves. I may have converted, but I was meant to be nurtured here. I am a Lesbian, and have experienced discrimination in faith communities due attitudes towards LGBTQ+ persons. I despaired over thoughts that God didn’t love me, and wondered if I would be condemned to Hell. In part because of this and being scolded for my questioning nature regarding God and church doctrines, I fell away from faith. I grew a lot in this away time, but didn’t really deconstruct my faith until 2021. My isolation in the pandemic gave me time for introspection. I would watch content from mainly atheist ex-christians who discussed their deconstruction journey. They were usually ex-evangelical or ex-mormon, and were really helpful to me for unpacking the mess that was my faith. Then something peculiar happened that changed the path of my life. Through the ex-mormons, I encountered the Restoration. There was something intriguing about it, and I wanted to learn more, so I did. I learned history, and the doctrine of different Latter Day Saint sects. I loved how innovative and “of the people” the early church was and how alive the faith seemed to be. I listened to members and ex-members, past and present, talk about their experiences within their faith communities and how they experienced the Divine. These were some of the worst years of my life, but there was something here that gave me hope. 

I came across an interview featuring John Hamer, in which he talked about Community of Christ as a home for those in faith transition. Many of the concerns I had about Christian faith communities were addressed. I craved such a spiritual home and became a seeker.

I asked many questions of missionaries, and my inquisitiveness was welcomed. I got myself an Inspired Version of the Bible, Doctrine and Covenants, and Book of Mormon. I was very impressed by the Doctrine and Covenants and found the contents to be Inspired and even prophetic, so I started attending Beyond the Walls services online.

One Sunday, the service was centered on the Worth of all Persons, Christian acceptance of LGBTQ+ persons, and the church in Tahiti. I listened to the members talk about their acceptance, their being guided by faith in Christ in the process, and how those things were compatible and complementary. The speakers affirmed God’s love and mercy for all. Their faith was strong, and they spoke with authority. Their Christ-like compassion was palpable. I felt what I now recognize as the Holy Spirit, come over me. After the message, the choir sang “Spirit of God like a fire is Burning” and I felt that fire burning in my chest and cried and praised the Lord for hours after.

My faith in God is stronger than ever. And my passion and belief in the Restoration bloomed.

[cheolism-archive]

DEVOTION

✰ — choi san x gang leader!f!reader ✷ — summary: after a year of fighting in a rebellion, san was tired of battle. like an angel, a goddess, you offered him peace.  ✰ — wc is approx. 12k ✷ — genre: nsfw, first meetings, mafia/gang society, simp!san, themes of worship, cultish if you squint, toxicity but san likes it ✰ — warnings: morally grey themes between both reader and san. violence, blood, and murder alongside other mature scenes, including those sexual in nature. in particular: literally licking someone else’s wounds, finger sucking, gagging, and oral sex. there is a heavy power imbalance with reader being the superior, but san is explicitly into this. he has a praise, humiliation, and devotion kink. non-sexual feet washing as a worshipping act. reader has pussy hair and is hinted to be a virgin, but not established. ✷ — rating: 18+. pay attention to the warnings.  ✰ — note: the reader in this fic is the leader of a gang, or a “sect” that inhabits a city and she is referred to as “the empress”. at one point san will lick blood off of the reader. i will put the beginning and ending of this sequence in bold so those who are disturbed can skip. thank you to ally @lovetaroandtaemin for beta reading and offering words of enthusiasm to this fic!! i really appreciaste it <3

p r o l o g u e .

the city held its breath when you fall ill. it's a fleeting illness, your aunt, who was left regent in the wake of your illness, announced. the empress will return to her duties as quickly as possible.

and then nothing happened for six months.

rumors spread. you'd died and your death was kept a secret to prevent rival sects from trying to steal territory; you'd been kidnapped for ransom and the "sickness" is a smokescreen. some spoke of treachery, but that's quickly hushed up. for who would dare betray the empress, the sweet little lamb of a girl who crowns her citizens with flowers?

then your aunt was found dead in a pool. seemingly too suspicious to be a coincidence, you began to get better. 

the city let out a relieved breath.

you began to appear in public once more. the city basked in your attention. all seemed to thrive. you kept the city secure under your watch, each entrance and exit under firm surveillance, guards on the corners of streets with guns at their hips, politicians carrying suitcases of powder, corrupt men and women entering your penthouse and never seen leaving.

"it's wrong," said choi bada to his brother. "she'll run our sect to the ground."

and once again the city held its breath as choi bada took a single, nearly-perfect shot at you, missing by a mere breath.

war had begun.

choi san had no choice but to stand beside his brother. surely choi bada was right; he wouldn't steer san in the wrong direction. he wouldn't do the wrong thing.

public buildings were desecrated with bullets and blood. san got used to the feeling of fighting, of bruised muscles and blood staining his clothes. he was commanded to destroy a temple you had dedicated to the gods, offerings of the common and rich alike littering the white granite steps. and so he got used to the feeling of wrongness, of feeling as if he was walking a dark and dangerous path of sin.

then choi bada was killed.

the empress, it was relayed to san as he was chained to a wall, was giving him a choice: die beside his treacherous brother or fight in the empress's arena for her forgiveness.

in the end the choice was easy. after all, san had been fighting for the past year of his life. what was one last battle?

san would forever remember the face of the final body. his opponent’s face was a violent mixture of red and purple, blood staining his mouth and teeth. he was ugly from the brutality of the world, another testament to the harshness of the world. 

the crowd roared with approval. they were thirsty; fervent. 

it was deafening. the screams and shouts of the crowd nearly drowned out the thundering of blood in san’s ear, his adrenaline shooting through his body like waves crashing down against rock. he couldn’t think. he couldn’t do anything other than stand there in the arena, looking at the bodies littering the sand. 

“our winner!” declared a voice, loud and booming even without a microphone. the overseer moved into the arena, his clothes a bright, clean stain against the bloodied sand. he effortlessly wove around bodies to get to san. “our champion!”

the overseer grabbed san’s forearm. the other man’s hand was spotless against san’s skin, which had dirt and sand and sweat molded to flesh. san protested for a moment, instinctively pulling away. 

he had been fighting for as long as he could remember. touch meant hurt, and he had long stopped expecting otherwise. 

the overseer laughed at san, lips twisted thin and wide. he grabbed at san again. “keep easy, pup,” he hissed out. “you’ve won the fight. congratulations. but you won’t win the battle if you keep trying to bite.”

san wanted to punch this man. he remembered how the overseer had introduced him, the snake in wolf’s skin, the brother of the traitorous subordinate to the empress. he remembered the overseer glancing over him, loudly announcing that he’d do. 

san was just another pawn for entertainment to the overseer; to the crowd. he was just another puppy expected to sit and lay and play dumb. 

he’d been fighting for so long. who would fault him if he were to swing around and throw a punch into the overseer’s face? who’d disapprove if he were to slam the man into the ground, if he were to fucking drive his knee into his stomach? 

san made to draw back. he cast a wild look around, searching for something. instead of aid, his eyes caught on the large screen. for a split second he saw himself, feral and filled with hatred. then the screen switched, showing the empress. 

the empress’s lips were split in a smile, showing off the white of her teeth. she had her chin resting on her hand, watching; watching san.

“our champion!” the overseer yelled out once more. “the winner of our empress’s victory! choi san!”

the crowd’s praise grew to a frantic roar, rabid with their adoration. he couldn’t see them, the lights of the arena bright. they loved this, san knew; loved blood, loved fighting. it was a performance to them. it didn’t matter who was in the arena; they were all dispensable. 

who mattered was who walked out. 

“to the empress,” said the overseer, moving his hand to clap san’s shoulder. his nails dug into san’s flesh. “she was most impressed by your little performance.”

san let the overseer direct him from the arena. the crowd was alight with awe, despite knowing san. well: despite knowing san’s brother. despite knowing that for the past year san had fought alongside his brother, war replacing the blood in his veins, soft words replaced by venom. 

none of that mattered anymore. none of it mattered now that san had won, had survived a fight against forty-nine others. he was blessed, the crowd saw now; blessed by the gods and to be blessed by the empress. 

he had punched and murdered and shot relentlessly in the name of his brother for the past year. and as the overseer bid the guard to open the gate separating the sands of the arena from the crowd, san realized he wouldn’t be expected to fight anymore. 

because that was why he had been fighting, wasn’t it? 

he was bound by blood to fight alongside his brother. even as he realized it was wrong – fighting for the sake of it, fighting for the sake of power was wrong –  he had to stand beside his brother.

and now he was stepping from the arena, stepping from the sands of war and leaving behind bodies he had injured with his own hands. he realized he could leave it all behind. he walked in a prisoner, was walking out a winner. he won the empress’s crown; would wear the flowers of victory. 

it didn’t matter who was in the arena. 

who mattered was who walked out. 

his brother was no longer his ruler. 

now it was – 

“the empress,” the overseer began, speaking loudly into san’s ears as to be heard over the crowd. people reached out to press their fingers against san. he didn’t know why. he had been bathed before the arena, but it didn’t matter. he was covered in sweat and grime. he was bruised and scratched. 

someone pressed their fingers against san’s bicep. he flinched back, inadvertently pushing back into the overseer. the other man gripped san tight. “when you see the empress, you won’t look the empress in the eye. kneel at the empress’s feet. both knees, hands on the ground, forehead between. the empress will say your name. you will announce your wrongdoings and beg for forgiveness. if she forgives, you will earn the empress’s victory. don’t look at her. don’t say anything beyond what i have instructed you.”

the overseer directed san up the stands. there were all kinds of people: some wore tattered clothes; some suits, hair greased back; some industry uniforms. they were all youthful and vibrant beneath the arena lights. 

the empress and the empress’s court, as it were, were separated from the rest. the empress’s balcony overlooked the entire arena. only the elite within the gang – sect, san remembered, within the sect – were allowed to sit this far up, this near the empress. 

and it showed. they wore polished suits and glittering jewels. the holsters of guns were bedazzled and glimmering. instead of cans of beer, they held crystal glasses. these were the ones the empress trusted most – no, san corrected again. the empress doesn’t trust anyone. these are the ones that have gained, in one way or another, the empress’s approval. 

murderers and sellers; crooks and robbers. 

san was directed up a short staircase. he stepped foot onto the platform. the metal was covered in soft, lush rugs. incense was lit, overtaking the dusty air of the arena with a fragrant scent. it was purified; they were purifying the space. 

san’s eyes flitted over the rising smoke from the incense, and then he caught sight of the empress. 

caught sight of you. 

“eyes,” the overseer warned. 

san fixed his eyes onto the ground. the overseer guided him with a hand on the shoulder, steering him towards the center of the podium where you sat. once the overseer adjusted san so his shoulders were square with you, presumably, he dug his hand down onto san. san went, obediently, to his knees. 

his knees, bruised and raw from fighting, hit the soft carpet. san placed the palms of his hands down against the rug, his knuckles violently red from all the punching he had done, already swelling – and he placed his forehead down against the carpet. 

something settled the crowd, silence taking over and reigning. 

a voice broke through. “choi san,” you said, “younger brother to our dearest choi bada, of the formerly respected choi clan.”

your court tittered with laughter at the reminder of how far he had fallen. 

“no worry.” your voice neared. you had risen from your chair – your throne. “the man you were when you walked into the arena is no more. now you are before me, clean from your sins if you so wish to be. 

“tell me: choi bada spoke of treachery and murder, of annihilation of our precious sect; do you concur with your brother’s disastrous agenda?”

san spoke to the ground, but, he found, he was speaking from the heart. “no.”

two letters, one syllable. 

that’s all it took to renounce his brother, to turn his back on his brother’s corpse. 

“no,” you echoed. “yet you had fought alongside him. you had killed and burned alongside him. were you not his most trusted?”

san scraped his nails against the rug. “i was.”

you hummed. san thought he recognized the tune, but then it was gone just as he was able to reach out and catch the thread of it. “you could have chosen loyalty to this true emperor, as he proclaimed himself. my guard would have killed you alongside choi bada. and yet you entered my arena, fought, and won. you entered to leave your old life behind, yes? you entered to renounce your clan.”

“yes.”

“and so you will,” you said. “rise, choi san, and know that no hatred, no ill-will, will be held to you.”

slowly, as if you were a predator, a lion, and he were the prey, a mouse, san moved. he lifted himself from the bow. he did not stand. he remained kneeling, palms placed on the torn fabric stretching over his knees. san kept his face towards the ground. 

“let me see you.”

san thought back to the overseer and his warning: don’t look. he wasn’t to look at you. yet you were asking, were telling him to look. 

so san looked. 

and looked. 

maybe it was because for the past few years of his life he had been fighting. ever since his brother had declared himself the new emperor, had spurred a rebellion in the name of progression, of tradition, san had been fighting. perhaps he had been fighting since he was born, constantly trying to remain in the good graces of a temperamental, powerful older brother. 

regardless: san had been fighting for far too long, and he was tired. 

before he’d thrown the final punch; before the man with the bright smile tried to stab a knife into san’s thigh; before san had stepped foot into the arena, before his name had been announced to the masses; before his wrists and ankles were put in chains; before his brother announced his surrender, fuck, before he even announced his rebellion, san was tired of fighting. 

he wanted to fucking stop. 

‘if she forgives, you will earn the empress’s victory.’

and now you were before him, brilliant and beautiful and blinding, offering an end. 

you were confession and absolution. you were thunder clouds parting to reveal soft, ever-blue skies. you were serenity and stability. you were peace, an end to a life of war. 

you were beautiful. 

san drank you in greedily. he took in the shape of your nose, the curve of your lips; the fall of your hair, the way you were dressed plainly in white and clean of any jewelry despite the extravagance of the elite around you. 

your eyes widened as san didn’t look away from your gaze. the overseer hissed behind him. neither of you paid him any mind. instead san watched as a small, pleased smile teased at your lips. 

you stepped down from your throne. everyone seemed to hold their breath as you descended. san knew without looking this was being projected onto the screen. 

your feet were bare. san remembered you were not to step on unclean earth, were not to be touched by unclean hands; not to hear unclean words. your attendants, san had heard, were cleaned before aiding you. their nails, even, were cleaned meticulously. only the pure could touch you. 

“choi san,” you hummed again. you had a twinkle in your eyes. a more ignorant man would claim it to be innocence. san knew better. you were analyzing him. “your brother named you one of his most trusted, bid you to aid him in rebelling against our sect.”

“he did.” 

you waved your hand. an attendant stepped forward. he held a golden platter. upon it rested a circlet of flowers. san didn’t know flowers, but even the most ignorant concerning flowers would be able to recognize the small, white blossoms as wax flowers. as your flowers, as the empress’s victory. 

your blessing symbolized. only those worthy could wear it, show off the empress’s favor. it was a sign of their devotion to you; of your protection to them. to gain it was magnificent; to be stripped of it, deadly. 

“and you rejected choi bada.”

san furrowed his brows. he should lie; should say he rejected his brother, claim he felt it was the wrong thing to do from the beginning. he should claim his allegiance was only ever to you, his empress. 

but san couldn’t lie. not to himself; to you. 

“not at first.” the elite on the podium gasped. you shot the crowd a silencing look. san only carried on once your eyes were upon him once more. “he was my older brother. i thought he could do no wrong. it was – was my duty, my pleasure to be with him.”

you moved towards him, hands going to the crown of flowers. “until?”

“the temple,” san said, hesitating. “it – it was wrong. he was wrong. it was evil. cruel. horrible.”

you smiled down at him, the crown of flowers resting delicately on your fingers. “your heart is golden, young wolf.”

san shook his head. “if it was then i would’ve known from the beginning.”

“the plots of those closest to us,” you began, “are often concealed. we do not regard our precious ones with clear eyes, choi san.”

you were talking about your aunt. the one who had poisoned you for five years to weaken you, had used your illness to try and spread her territory and harvest your riches. who had exploited your youth, your naive innocence and trust and turned around and hurt you. 

perhaps you and san were alike. you both had been betrayed by those closest. 

san considered you. the line of your proud shoulders, the stability of your hands. you were the heavens revealed after a storm. you were his empress; his goddess. 

“no,” he said gently. “i should have known better. the gods have honored and blessed you as our empress. i should not have presumed any man to know better than the gods. i should have known better than to listen to my brother’s lies.”

“lies,” you repeated back. “i suppose he spoke of my imperfections. in some regard, he would not be wrong. i am mortal.”

san frowned. he lowered himself again. slowly san crawled forward, his bruise knuckles and bloodied forearms – not his blood, of course – stark against the soft white of the rug. he reached, with dirtied fingertips, for the hem of your long, white dress. he lifted it, and, like a devotee to a goddess, lowered his head and press his lips to your feet. 

he withdrew. 

“you are perfect,” he said. “any imperfections, spoken or thought, are lies. you are my empress. i would give myself to you for an eternity. i will give myself to you for an eternity.”

your face, for a split moment, was horribly vulnerable. he saw you not as an empress, as a queen of a city of sin, but as a woman. 

then, just as quickly, your face turned back into stone. 

“you would give yourself,” you said, “to me.”

“every part of me is yours,” san earnestly said. “body and soul.”

you glanced over him, eyes taking him in. san wondered what you saw. he wondered if you just saw the superficial part of him, what only appeared on the surface. if you saw the sharp cut of his eyes, the line of his jaw; the broad square of his shoulders and the bruises and scrapes that littered his skin. or if you saw beneath that. 

what lay beneath the surface of him, san did not know. he didn’t know if it was anything special – if he was anything special. he had killed and sinned just as any other person in the arena; had been taken as a prisoner. he was just as dirtied as everyone else. 

everyone but you. 

your shoulders relaxed back and you grew to your full height, an empress once more. you stepped to san, lifting the crown of wax flowers up for all to see. “the redeemed brother of choi bada,” you announced, “who prostrates himself before our gods and our great empire. this empress, low and humble before our heavenly fathers and mothers, accepts choi san into our empire with open arms. 

“let choi san spend the rest of his life in reparation to our empire. let him serve our great city in body and soul. let him prove himself devoted, and let us say no more of his past.”

and then you were placing the flower crown upon his head. 

the crowd roared with approval. 

you glided your fingers along his hair. he wanted to stop you. he knew his hair was greasy from sweat, knew his skin was dirty. he wasn’t clean. and yet you traced the side of his face with the pads of your fingers, let your nails skim along the line of his jaw. 

it was too much. it was too much. san couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him and he didn’t expect pain. here you were caressing him as if a lover, as if he were precious. it was too much. 

you brought your hands back to your body. you raised one up, palm out, for silence. the crowd quieted, reverent before their empress. 

when you spoke, your voice was stern with authority. “let it be shown our gods and empire is just. let it be known that our empire will not turn its back on those who repent. let it be known that i will not punish those who offer themselves wholly, who renounce their sins before me.”

your hands framed his jaw. you tilted san’s face up, and then you were pressing your lips to his forehead. 

san felt his entire body go numb. he couldn’t think; couldn’t breathe. 

the crowd screamed fervently. you continued to speak, though san wondered if anyone was able to hear your words. 

“let it be known i will not turn my back on those who need me.”

and like a flower with the sun, san so desperately needed you. 

you stepped back. your face had grime around your mouth from where you had kissed san’s dirty forehead. a attendant stepped forward with a white cloth, but you waved them aside, letting the dirt remain. 

“bring him to my bath,” you ordered, gesturing towards san. you looked towards him, brows raised. “you will serve me, body and soul, yes?”

san nodded. 

you smiled. it was a small turn of the lip, but san felt it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

san couldn’t help but feel horribly out of place in your penthouse. 

it was the sort of place that he never would have stumbled into ordinarily. windows took up the entire wall, clean and giving him a view of the artificial glow of the city underneath the moon. the furniture and carpets were all white and spotless, the floor a mute beige that warmed the space. 

everything was all clean. there were no personal touches within the penthouse from what san could see as he was guided from the overly large living space to the master bathroom. everything was meticulously placed, offered no insight as to whom the owner of the penthouse – the entire building, really – was. 

there were flowers throughout the penthouse, san noted. they were the only source of life within, the only sign of color. geraniums and roses, lilies and petunias. they were spaced out as to not overwhelm and truly were the only things within the space that betrayed the character of the owner. 

the attendant slid open the door to the master bathroom. immediately san was hit with the gentle scent of vanilla and flowers, though he couldn’t place what particular sort of flower he was smelling. the bathroom’s size was in proportion to the rest of the apartment, meaning it was still considerably bigger than any bathroom san had stepped into before. 

the bath was already running, though san was tempted to call it a pool. it was longer and wider than any man or woman could possibly be, settled into the ground with shining white marble framing it. the bath only touched one wall, artificial stone breaking up the smooth texture of the rest of the room. 

the attendant moved about the bathroom, leaving san by the door. she turned off the faucet of the tub. “don’t worry about the water, there’s a heater in the tub.”

she went to the lights. the bright overhead lights dimmed; the wall scones lit up, giving the bathroom a dark, moody feel. 

“usually you should be scrubbed clean,” the attendant said, wrinkling her nose as she took san in. “obviously you haven’t bathed in days. but the empress insisted on leaving you as you are.”

the attendant went to the marble counter. she pressed on something, and then a cabinet door was opening. san wouldn’t have been able to guess anything was there at all, as there were no handles and he couldn’t see the frame of the door. 

she withdrew from the cabinet with white towels. “the empress will direct you on how to attend her. do not presume familiarity; do not mistake her kindness for permission. it’s hard to get blood out of stone.”

san’s eyes snapped to the white stone wall framing one side of the bath. it had been unassuming before, just another pretty feature; now it seemed to stand before him ominously, a stark warning. 

“you mean –” he broke off, brow furrowing. “the empress –?”

“our dear lady is not a sweet little lamb,” the attendant said, pride the undercurrent to her tone. she placed the towels on the white counter. she bumbled around, pulling things from drawers san hadn’t noticed. the attendant reached out for a vase of flowers, sweet little things with white petals and yellow centers. 

“the biggest mistake one can make is to presume her submissive in any respect,” the attendant advised him. “never presume to know more than her. never think, for a single second, that you aren’t eating out of the palm of her hand.”

san shifted back. you had been – well, not unassuming. but he hadn’t – didn’t – this picture the attendant was illustrating of you seemed so stark in comparison to the woman who had grabbed his face and kissed it so gently. he couldn’t imagine you like this. san couldn’t imagine you being a master manipulator, couldn’t imagine you having some secret agenda. he couldn’t imagine you, so benevolent and beautiful, being a snake wrapped in lamb’s wool. 

the attendant hummed, content with the flowers. she turned to san. she looked him up and down. “if you have some sort of secret agenda –”

“i don’t!” the words were forceful and sure as they escaped san’s lips. he frowned at the attendant, standing straight and staring down at her. he crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the muscles of his arms clench from how rigidly he was holding himself. “i swore my body and soul to the empress. any person who dares to say otherwise is wrong.”

the attendant inclined her head. “so you say.”

and then you were walking into the bathroom. 

san felt his breath leave him all at once. even in the dim artificial lighting you were perfect. you were bare of any accessories, simply clothed in a white dress with your feet gently slapping against the floor. yet you were more beautiful than any gaudily clad creature san had ever seen. 

you said something to the attendant. san didn’t hear. he was too busy taking you in: the soft lines of your arms, the precious curves of your mouth. the way the very air around you seemed to sweeten with your presence, bending to your purity.

the attendant left, and then you were raising your arm up to finger at your earrings. 

and san saw red. 

literally. 

your forearm was painted a vibrant red, blood gently pulsing from a single cut. 

san was at your side in a second, his hands reaching out for your arm. he grabbed you, his hands cradling your forearm as he frowned down at the injury. 

“what happened –”

but san was cut off by your hand pressing into the tender meat of his neck. your thumb pinched mercilessly, making san shutter and his grip on your arm weaken. 

“down,” you hissed, sharp and severe. 

obediently san dropped to his knees, hands at your hips. ignoring your own injury you grabbed his hands, forcing them away. 

“don’t touch me,” you snapped, your injured arm darting out. you gripped his hair in your hand, nails digging into his scalp. you wrenched his face back, exposing the line of his throat and making him gasp into the humid air of the bath. “never, ever touch me without permission. you understand me?”

“you’re hurt,” san gasped out, eyebrows high on his face as he pressed his head back into your hand. it hurt, your grip on his hair harsh. yet he didn’t want to move away, didn’t want to move from the pain you were delivering onto him. “you’re hurt, empress.”

he watched through squinted eyes as your jaw, which had been jutted out in anger, softened. the corners of your mouth sagged from where your lips had been twisted from fury. 

your grip on his hair loosened. you clicked your tongue, stepping close. 

gone was all anger from your being. instead you moved close, your hand cradling san’s cheek. blood dripped from your wound, down onto his pants and the marble floor. 

you hummed down at him, thumb gently swiping along the sharp cut of his cheekbone. “i apologize,” you whispered, voice sweet. “forgive me. when a person rushes towards me i cannot help but react.”

san felt his heart clench at hearing you say such a thing. if it was up to him, you’d never feel fear again. never feel as if you were in danger, never feel anxiety or terror. you’d be safe; safe for ever and ever. he’d make you safe. he’d make the world safe for you.

“i should have known,” he said in apology. 

you smiled, then. you laughed softly. your fingers went to his black hair, pulling slightly as to expose his face to you further. “sweet boy,” you said. 

san turned his face towards your palm. you let him. he let his eyes flutter shut, nose tucking into the curve of your hand. he felt treasured like this; precious.

“next time you greet me,” you said, voice light, “remain still until you are acknowledged. understand?”

“yes, dear empress.”

you grinned down at him. “my sweet boy,” you cooed again. 

yes. 

yours.

“you are hurt,” san said. he blinked up at you, mouth pushed into a soft pout. “what happened?”

“nothing of consequence,” you returned. “i only worry about it staining your clothes.”

san frowned. you were hurt, and it wasn’t anything important?

“you could help me clean it,” you said, hesitant. 

san looked up at you. you were so beautiful and kind. you were a powerful woman, far above any else in superiority and worth. and yet you were allowing him to help you when you were in pain, when you were in need of aid. 

you, so innocent and – and holy, to be touched only by the pure, were letting san touch you. not only that, you would letting him clean you. 

“come on, pup,” you instructed, “clean me.”

slowly, as to not startle you again, san grabbed your arm in his hand. he moved your hand from his face, immediately missing it. but you had given him a task, and san would be deplorable if he were to hesitate in acting on it. 

when san touched his tongue to your blood, he found, to his astonishment, it tasted perfectly normal, as anyone’s blood would. it was tangy, tasted like rust. it wasn’t horrible, san found. it wasn’t revolutionary, of course; he wouldn’t go around drinking other’s blood. but it was, well, your blood, a symbol of your humanity, and you were letting him lick at it. 

you hummed softly, stepping close. you slid your free hand into his hair, petting softly. there was little space between the two of you. and san loved it. he couldn’t help but smile gently into your skin. san pressed a soft kiss to your arm, ignoring how he only seemed to further spread your blood. 

“so messy,” you said, and san peeked up at you. you were smiling down at him, and san swore he could see your eyes sparkle. “such a messy eater, choi san.”

he pressed another kiss to your skin. san alternated between kissing your arm and licking at your wound, his mouth overwhelmed by the tangy taste of your blood. he endured it, though. he couldn’t help himself. he felt, weirdly, as if he was drunk. 

it was almost as if this was some sort of drug; as if worshiping you were addictive. san was kneeling before you, blood smeared over his mouth, and he didn’t want to stand. he didn’t want to erase that gentle smile from your face. if that meant kneeling before you and licking your wounds, then –

well. 

he’d done worse things for more horrible people. 

eventually you pulled san away. your wound had long stopped bleeding. your arm wasn’t entirely clean, thin smears of bright crimson a blight against your skin. 

you cupped his face with both hands. you looked over him. san wondered what you saw. 

you pressed your fingers to the corner of his mouth, lightly following a path he was blind to. “you’re so messy,” you said again. “covered in blood and dirt.”

your fingers wandered over his face. san’s eyes fluttered. you followed the curve of his nose, the sharp jutting lines of his cheeks. 

“you are to attend me in the bath,” you said, voice a sweet song. “and yet you are covered in filth. you will wash before you serve me.”

then you stepped away. 

you went to the hidden cabinet the attendant had gone to earlier. you opened it, removing a white towel. 

“kneel in the shower,” you commanded. 

the shower was tall and large. the showerhead was large and like a saucer, and when you turned it on the water was like a trickle of rain. 

san went and kneeled in the shower underneath the water. 

“your clothes,” you said, tossing the white towel onto an ottoman beside the shower. “take your clothes off.”

san felt himself flush. you hadn’t said for him to take off of his clothes, and so he hadn’t thought of it. he felt sheepish; stupid. 

you didn’t make fun of him, though. you held out your hand. san stood, beginning to take off his clothes. you kept your eyes on him as he did so. first came his tank top. it was white originally, though the arena had dirtied it considerably with sand and other grime, and tight against him. once it was off he handed it to you. you took the shirt from him, letting it hang from your fingertips, continuing to let your eyes smooth over his abdomen and chest. 

next, his shoes and socks. he kicked those out of the shower. 

he only hesitated when his thumbs were hooking into the waistband of his underwear. 

you laughed at him, dropping his pants and shirt to the side. “don’t be shy now,” you teased. “are you not going to attend me? will you not wash my body with your hands? be naked and let us be on equal ground.”

and so he pushed his underwear down. he fought to get it over the swells of his thighs, but then they were quickly falling to his knees and onto the floor. 

you stared at him openly. 

san’s dick – regrettably – was at half mast. he felt as if he had been hard ever since you made him kneel in front of the arena crowd. and with you staring he felt a small sense of shame, but still his cock continued to harden, blood thickening it and letting it take on a darker hue. 

“cute,” you laughed again. “now on your knees.”

san returned to his knees. you stepped into the shower. you were still wearing your white dress, and you were ignoring the shower water as it rained down on you. 

slowly, leisurely, you reached for a bottle of soup. you squeezed out a small white liquid to your hand, and then you were stepping close. 

you were perhaps half a foot away. you were close enough to where all san had to do was lean his head forward to press his face into your stomach if he wanted to. 

your free hand went to his chin. you tipped his face up. you cupped water in your hand and then began washing his face. after a handful of seconds you were lathering his face in some sort of face wash, fingers gentle as you scrubbed. 

“you’re getting all wet,” san mumbled, opening an eye to peer up at you. 

you raised your brows at him. you rinsed off your hands, and then you were cleansing his face of the soap. “i’m bathing you,” you said simply. “why would i take off my clothes?”

san thought it was odd for a fleeting moment that you weren’t undressing despite the fact your dress was absolutely soaked, but then you were running your fingers through his hair. 

“you will have to keep yourself clean,” you instructed him. “especially if you are to attend me.”

“attend you?”

you scoffed. “did you not devote yourself to me, ‘body and soul’? regretting your words already, choi san?”

he hurriedly shook his head. you left him for a moment to reach for a bar of soap. 

“if you’re going to attend to me, ‘body and soul,’” you began, sliding the soap along his shoulders, “you will need to keep clean. you cannot touch me if you are dirty.”

you stilled. you tapped his chin with a finger. san looked up. your face was serious, your eyes sharp and mouth firm. “you are devoting yourself, yes?”

“until i die, empress.”

you relaxed, visibly pleased at san’s eagerness. “you will be mine. you are mine, then, choi san.”

“yours.”

you returned to cleaning him. he tried not to look at you too much. the white dress stuck to your skin as if it were your skin. san could see the curve of your breasts – tits felt too crude of a word to use for you – and the soft imprint of your nipples. 

“if you do well enough when you bathe me, you can be my bath attendant,” you declared. you stepped back. “stand.”

“bath attendant?” san stumbled to his feet, legs slightly numb from having been kneeling for so long. he’ll have to get used to it. he liked being on his knees for you. 

“‘body and soul,’” you reminded. “don’t you want to bathe me?”

san nodded. “so badly,” he said.

and he meant it. he thought about bathing you, his hands gently massaging soap into your hair. he’d wash whatever part you wanted. he’d take care to wash behind your ears and neck, to lightly rub soap over your breasts if your nipples were particularly sensitive. he’d even wash your pussy if you’d let him. 

san felt blood rush down to his dick at the thought. it was horribly, disastrously crude of him to think such a thing. he should be ashamed. 

you rubbed the bar of soap over him. your hand followed, sliding along his skin and smoothing the suds. your hands were sure as you slid them along his abdomen, thumb swiping over his muscled stomach. 

“so strong,” you said. “it would be a shame not to have you as a member of my personal guard.”

“‘body and soul.’”

you laughed at him, reaching up and pinching at one of his brown nipples. he hissed, dick throbbing as he reached up and cupped his own tits to protect them. “you are awfully devoted,” you teased. “it is a good thing you stumbled into my arena instead of someone else’s, choi san.”

“i wouldn’t be like this to anyone else,” san announced. his eyes flicked over your face. your hair was stuck along your forehead, and he could see that you had on mascara, the black liquid running over your cheeks. 

rise, choi san, and know that no hatred, no ill-will, will be held to you.

you had crowned him with the empress’s victory. you had promised him absolution of his sins. you were merciful. you were beautiful. 

“you wouldn’t have to be in my guard,” you murmured, moving around him. you went to his back. he felt acutely aware of you. the soap traveling over his skin, your hand smoothing over the muscles of his back. “you fought for one tyrant already. i will not be another.”

san let out a sharp breath. 

he turned. he looked down at you. 

“i’d do anything for you.”

for a moment you just stared at him, your hands stilling over his abdomen. the shower beat down on his back, water sliding along his body. 

“so much power for one woman to have,” you murmured. “turn back around.”

you continued to bathe him. your hands slid over his body. when your hands went to his dick, san couldn’t help but tense. you ran your fingers along the veins of his hips, letting them lead to the base of his cock. his cock was fully erect. you paid his tumultuous state no mind. you slid your hands along his dick methodically, touch sure and firm. 

san sucked in a deep breath, his hands going to your shoulders, searching for something to tether him. 

“hands off of me,” you ordered. your hand could just barely wrap around his dick. you slid your fist from the base of his cock to the tip, wrist twisting. 

san let out a groan, and he tried to ignore how high his voice went at the end of it. your hand continued to his balls, fondling lightly as you gave a perfunctory wash there, too. 

you released his dick. it flopped up to his stomach, and he couldn’t help but wince at the urgent need that shot through him, his cock throbbing. san wanted your hand wrapped around his dick again, wanted it so badly. 

“finish up,” you commanded. you stepped from the shower, dropping the bar of soap onto the ground, not bothering to hand it to him. 

san turned and bent over to grab the soap. when he straightened, he turned back to face towards where you had left him. you had one shoulder of your dress down around your elbow, your hands reaching up for the other as you watched san. 

he got, delightfully, the feeling as if you had been studying him while his back was turned. san felt, stupidly, as if he were a little mouse and you were the mighty lion. as if he was running frantically between your paws, searching for a way out as you continually shifted your paws, not giving him a way out. 

well –

san didn’t want a way out. 

if you wanted to play with him like cat and mouse, san would let you. you saved him. from what, san didn’t know, though he did know whatever his fate would have been had you neglected to acknowledge his victory would have been far worse than this; worse than standing naked in the bathroom of your penthouse, erection strained and wanting. 

you saved him; you wouldn’t hurt him. 

you gave him the empress’s victory. you would protect him. 

further: you asked him to bathe you, to guard you. 

you wanted him at your side. 

when san finished washing, all the dirt and grime of his old life swirling down the shower drain, he turned off the water. 

you had completely undressed, and were standing by the sunken tub. your dress and undergarments were scattered. san couldn’t help but let his eyes rove over you. he looked at the curve of your thighs and where the meat of them mellowed to bleed into your knees. san stared at the hair of your cunt, at the soft skin of your stomach; the hang of your tits and your nipples, hard due to them being exposed to the room. 

his dick ached. 

“get into the tub,” you ordered. 

the tub, san found, varies in depth. the steps were cold white marble, and when his foot was submerged beneath the water, it was extremely warm. the water was the sort of warm that would lure its occupants to sleep. 

when he crossed the tub, as the stairs were on one side and you the other, the level of the tub floor began to steepen. near the stairs, once he was off of them, the water only went to the middle of his thighs. as he neared you, the water began to slowly rise until it lapped against his lower hips, warm around the base of his cock. 

you had lowered yourself to sit on the edge of the tub when he climbed in. your legs were hanging over the edge, knees parted just enough for him to stand between them. 

you were grinning, the white of your teeth striking against the plush color of your lips. 

“what a predicament you have there,” you murmured, eyes flicking down to san’s dick. 

he felt blood rush to his face as you gazed unabashedly at his cock. “i –”

“clean my feet,” you interrupted. you leaned back on your hands, not concealing your body in the slightest. san looked over your stretchmarks, over the pebbling of your nipples. he wondered, fleetingly, if you’d let him lick them.

“your feet?”

“you said you would clean me,” you said. “go grab the soap.”

the soap, as it turned out, was on the other side of the tub. slowly san waded through the water, pushing against it. he grabbed the soaps, all flower-scented and bottled, and turned back to you. 

“shame,” you said. “i quite liked the other view of you.”

blood shot to his face again. san was sure his cheeks and ears were vibrantly red. 

“this view is not so bad either,” you amended. 

he knew you were talking about his abs and his dick, just as he knew you had been talking about his ass with the prior comment. san was being treated as if he were some piece for you to ogle at, and fuck, if that didn’t make his dick absolutely throb. 

you spread out your knees, letting san press close. he set the bottles beside you, and then he couldn’t help but let his hands hover over your hips. 

“you want to touch me?”

san looked up to you. your head was tilted slightly, and you were looking down your nose at him. he traced the curve of your jaw with his eyes, the line of your throat. he wanted to touch every inch of you. he wanted to devour you. 

“yes,” he said, voice hushed and yearning. 

you smiled, baring your teeth at him. you raised your leg, and then you were pressing your foot flat against his stomach. 

“clean me.”

and so san began to wash your feet. 

he cupped the water in his hand, bringing it up and letting the water escape his hand to trinkle over your foot. san ran his hand over your foot. despite the fact that you walked barefoot, as to represent your divinity, the underside of your foot was nearly clean. 

even as san finished cleaning one foot and shifted to the next, starting by rinsing it off, his erection didn’t flag. he continued to wash your foot, trying to ignore how his cock throbbed in tandem with his heart, how the warm water of the tub lapped over his balls and the base of his dick. 

you hummed as san finished washing your second foot, toes flexing in his hold. he smoothed his hand over the gentle incline of your foot, thumb swiping over your ankle. 

san looked down at your skin. your foot was drenched, your leg dry. he ran his fingers over your skin, letting the pads of his fingers drag along your flesh. san 

“could i –” san broke off, looking up at you. you raised your brows at him, waiting. “can i kiss your skin?”

you tilted your head. you flicked your eyes up and down his figure. eventually, slowly, you nodded. 

san felt his heart flutter in his chest. he bent over. he pressed the tip of his nose to your leg, feeling the slight bumps along your skin from where your shaven hairs were trying to break through. he let his lips ghost over your skin, torturing himself; appreciating you. 

san let his lips trail down your leg, and then he was at your ankle. 

slowly, but not hesitantly, he pressed a kiss to the skin there. 

you sucked in a breath. 

san pulled back slightly, looking up at you. his voice, when he spoke, seemed to come from deep within him. “you okay?”

“i’ve been worshiped before,” you said, in lieu of an answer, “but not quite like this.”

“shall i continue?”

san watched as you visibly shivered before him. his dick throbbed, a slight pearl of precum budding from the tip. 

you nodded. san pressed his lips to your ankle once more. 

san let his mouth move over your skin. he didn’t bite or lick or anything. he simply explored. his mouth was but a tool used for mapping, learning the rises and curves of your body. 

once san found he was satisfied with one leg, he shifted to the other. 

san’s mouth went to the crook of your knee. he turned your leg in his hand. he pressed his mouth to the part where your knee and thigh met, his nose pressing into the flesh as he mouthed at your skin. 

you let out a gentle sigh. it was slight, hardly there. san only heard it because he was so incredibly tuned into you. he wanted to listen to every hitch in breath, wanted to be able to see every twitch of a finger. san wanted to devote himself to you, and so he heard the slight breath that escaped you, the little exhale, as he kissed your thigh. 

his dick, horribly, angrily, throbbed. his balls were tight against him, precum beading and sliding along the head of his dick. 

you hummed at him, and then you were lowering your leg. “you’ve a problem.”

“it’s not a problem,” san said. he settled his hand on your knee, wanting to press his mouth back into your skin. “i can ignore it.”

you shook your head. “fuck yourself,” you said, words so horribly dirty compared to the white aura of pureness that clung to your identity like a shroud. “fuck your hand, choi san.”

san took his hand, the one not on you, and moved it to his dick. he didn’t begin fucking, instead intently watching you, as if he were a dog waiting for the command from his master to have the treat. 

“i told you what to do,” you said, voice dry. you shifted closer, thighs now dangling over the edge of the tub. 

san fisted his cock, immediately shivering into his touch. he felt as if he had been effectively edged for hours. san brought his hand down to the base of his dick, slowly, deliciously, dragging it up to the tip. the water smoothed the stroke, each motion of his hand making san keen into the touch. 

“how funny,” you said. san looked at you. you were still, eyes watching his hand as he fucked himself. “such a strong man driven to patheticness by the sight of a pair of tits.”

“no,” he groaned from the back of his throat. san thumbed at his dickhead, not bothering with the slit; being uncut, he was far too sensitive there to bother, the sensations too harsh for him. his foreskin glided with his strokes, concealing and revealing his tip in equal measure. 

“it’s you,” he got out eventually. “been – been hard.”

you chuckled at him. “since when? since i made you kneel for me in front of hundreds?”

san was quiet. he stilled his hand at the base of his dick, furtively bucking his hips into his hand, the sensation too little to do anything proper. 

“oh it was,” you said, glee gently curving around the edges of your voice. “you’re really into this devotion thing, aren’t you? into worship.”

“never been before.”

you laughed again. you reached out one foot, nudging against his thigh. san let out a choked noise, and then he was fucking his fist down onto his cock. 

“you get hard from kneeling to your empress,” you said. “the strong man who killed ten men before my eyes likes being made to bow in reverence. how fucking cute of you, choi san.”

san groaned, this one loud. he began fucking his fist in earnest, the strokes quick. you placed your legs on either side of his thighs, and then you were bringing him close, legs wrapping around him. 

“fucking choi bada’s general. likes bowing to the empress that demanded the death of his brother, hm? that it, choi san? just needed me to tell you what to do? you like me telling you what to do, choi san?”

“yes,” he hissed out. 

you laughed, loud and harsh. he opened his eyes to watch your chest heave with your laughter. you looked at him, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

“then cum,” you commanded. 

san’s orgasm ripped from him, balls tight and throbbing as his release tore through him. he couldn’t help but tip his head back, exposing the column of his throat, hand frantic as he worked over his dick. 

san didn’t stop fucking his hand until it was bordering on the edge of too much, little shocks of pain shooting through him. 

when san opened his eyes, satisfied, it was to the sight of you covered in his cum. 

thick and white, the fluid stuck to your skin. his cum was covering your thighs and stomach and tits, not great enough to completely conceal your skin, but still significant. 

san felt horrified. 

here you were, this pure, divine person in front of him. you wore white, your attendants had to clean themselves before even handing you a glass of water. and here you were: covered in his cum. 

“i suppose,” you drew out, “it is a good thing i’ll be bathing.”

you lifted a hand, going to swipe at some of the cum on your stomach. 

san darted out, his hand wrapping around your wrist. “don’t,” he said, urgent, “it’s dirty.”

“then you’ll just have to clean it,” you taunted back. 

you drew your hand through the cum on your stomach. you pressed your thumb to the fingers stained with san’s spunk. you inspected it, as if you were curious. 

then you held out your hand. 

“clean me.”

for a moment san was confused. his brow furrowed. he looked between your stained fingers and your face. 

you raised your brows. “clean my hand, choi san.” you paused, and then: “it’s the least you could do for touching me like you have.”

san felt himself blush. he reached out, both of his hands wrapping around your wrist. he was acutely aware of the fact that you were watching him, eyes not missing a single movement. 

san lifted your hand to his mouth. he hesitated for a moment. he pressed his lips against the tips of your fingers, and then he was moving them into his mouth. 

your skin was salty in his mouth, and slightly soapy from having bathed san. san didn’t take your fingers out, though. you had told him to do something, and he was damned if he wasn’t going to do it. 

san guided your fingers further into his mouth. his spunk was on the tips of your fingers, and nearly immediately he could taste it. it was bitter and horrible, and san didn’t understand how anyone could swallow it.  

knowing you had commanded it, however, and not wanting to let you down, san continued to push your fingers into his mouth. he gagged when your fingers were halfway, the pads of your digits pressing gently against his tongue. 

you laughed. “oh cute,” you cooed. “poor little choi san can’t handle two fingers in his mouth, yeah?”

cheeks tinged with red, san fought against his gag reflex to slide your fingers further. he had to stop when he felt the tops of your nails at the far back of his mouth, the feeling of wanting to gag licking at the back of his throat. 

“don’t gag,” you said. “i hadn’t told you to take my fingers into your throat, but now that you’ve decided to do so, you will. swallow around my fingers, choi san.”

feeling bullied, but not disliking it, san swallowed around your fingers. 

his mouth went tight. he could feel the vacuum of it, the sucking sensation. 

“suck my fingers clean.” you shifted before him, your free hand reaching up to brush at your cheek as if you had an inch. “lick them.”

san ran his tongue over your fingers, gathering his cum from them. he swallowed again, only to immediately gag. san pulled away from your hand abruptly, lips pressing firmly together and throat working fervently to try and assure that there was nothing else foreign in his mouth. 

you wiped your hand over his shoulder. “how boring,” you said absently. 

“i’m sorry,” san apologized. he placed his hands on your knees. you didn’t immediately scold him. “it just felt weird.”

“it just felt weird,” you echoed back. “are you going to make it up to me?”

san nodded, and then he was pressing his face to your tits. 

instantly your arms were around him, hands sinking into his hair and nails digging. he hissed, and he heard you say his name, low and dangerous. 

but then san ran his tongue along the curve of your tit. he found he loved the first taste of it, the combination of your slightly sweaty skin and his spunk, and so san quickly licked a long stripe over your tit again. 

your fingers weakened in his hair, nails scraping lightly. you gripped the ends of his hair, and then you were pressing your nose to his ear. 

“you better lick me clean,” you muttered. “i don’t want to dirty the bath water with your spunk.”

san shivered in your hold. he didn’t know if it was from your command or how your voice spat out spunk. 

san ran the flat of his tongue over your skin. he licked at your tits as if it were his favorite meal. 

once you deemed them clean, you were pushing his face lower to your stomach. 

san, ever obedient to his empress, began cleaning you there, too. 

it was weirdly relaxing. san lapped at your skin. he continued even when most of the cum had been licked from your torso, just letting his tongue rove over your flesh. 

“good boy,” you eventually praised. 

then you were spreading out your legs, pushing san back. you were gentle with it, however, and he felt his heart flutter in his chest and his dick give a little lurch. 

“here,” you said, your hand sliding to your cunt. “don’t forget here.”

your cunt, in consideration with the staining of cum to your tits and stomach and thighs, did not need to be cleaned. 

but san found himself kneeling along the ledge that ran the complete length of the sunken tub, his fingers going to your cunt. 

he used his thumbs to spread your lower lips, nails scraping lightly against your damp pussy hair. for a moment san just looked, taking in the pretty shape of your cunt. 

then san was pressing his nose to your clit, tongue rolling out to lap at your hole. you were wet, the fluid bittersweet. san couldn’t help but lick at you again as soon as he had tasted you, running the broad width of his tongue up your pussy. 

you moaned out, the loudest san had heard from you thus far. 

and he found it absolutely addictive. 

san didn’t know if all cunts were like this; didn’t know if it merely pertained to your pussy. but san found himself completely fixated, letting his tongue run from your hole to your clit, gathering your fluid and swallowing it eagerly. 

he wanted to, quite simply, devour you. 

no – 

that wasn’t right – 

san wanted to worship you. 

your cunt was his altar, and san was devoted. he thrusted his tongue into your hole, licking at the rim. san moved his tongue to your clit, and that, too, he worshipped. he found it particularly addicting, the way you moaned and thighs tightened around him as he lapped at your clit.

san slid a finger into your hole, and you gasped out as you tightened down on it. your cunt clamped down on his fingers as it if were his cock, unwilling to let it go. your pussy milked his finger greedily as he ran his tongue over your clit messily, your hips in constant movement underneath him. 

“fuck,” you groaned out as his finger arched up, pressing against a spongey pat of your pussy. your voice was loud, echoing around the bathroom. fleetingly, san thought about the other attendants and how he didn’t want them to hear the precious sounds you were making, because then, honesty, he’d gave to punch them until they forgot their own name, but then you were tightening your thighs around him. 

fluid trickled around san’s finger as he thrust it in and out in rhythm with his licking of your clit. he lapped at the velvet area framing your clit, flicked his tongue rapidly against the spot in sporadic stimulation. 

eventually your moans crescendoed, and a rough call of “san!” burst from your mouth as your pussy tightened around his finger and fluid gushed from your cunt. 

san didn’t stop fucking his finger into you and licking at your pussy until you were hissing, physically pushing him away. 

you had laid down at some point, and now you were propped up on your elbows. your face was twisted into a scowl, chest heaving as you looked at him. 

for a few moments you didn’t say anything. you just stared at him. 

eventually you pushed yourself up off of the marble. your skin was covered in goosebumps, and when you ran your fingers along your hairline san saw sweat had collected there. 

you were shockingly quiet. 

san laid his hands on your thighs, coming close. “are you okay?”

you looked at him, brows furrowed. your eyes danced over his face, taking him in. 

then you scoffed, pushing him back. “you’ve got cunt juice on your face.”

you slid off of the edge of the tub and into the water. you were close to san due to him having been pressed against the edge. your hands went to his hips, and then you were moving him away from you, albeit not cruelly. 

san watched as you sunk down into the water, letting it come up to your neck. you grabbed a handful, wetting your face. 

“what do you want me to do?”

you glanced at him, eyelashes clumped together from the water. 

“i suppose you wash me,” you said. “no one has ever attended me in the bath before, so you won’t have a point of comparison. you can decide if that’s good or not.”

“no one’s served you in the bath before?” san frowned, moving to grab the face wash. it was, in a complete contrast to the white marble of the room, in a sweet pink bottle with little cartoon characters decorating the bottle. “that attendant said you had killed someone in here.”

you shrugged. you stepped to him, your hands on his abdomen. you angled your face up towards him, waiting. “i have. did. and can.”

san ignored the threat. he held the bottle in one hand, using his free hand to spread water over your face once more. he tried to ignore the proximity, the way your hands touched his stomach. 

he didn’t dare to ask at first, knowing it wasn’t his place. he was made to serve you, and san didn’t have a problem with that; he would never ask for anything different. more importantly: san didn’t want anything different. 

“what happened?” he squeezed some of the face wash onto his hand, and then he was gently rubbing it into your cheek. “why did you kill someone?”

“i’ve killed a lot of people,” you mumbled, eyes falling shut as san’s hand roamed over your face, applying the face wash. 

san hummed in acknowledgment. it was hard to think of you killing anyone, especially when you were like this. you were still in his hold, pliant as san ran his fingers over your face. you were soft and sweet, hands gentle against his abdomen, and he just couldn’t imagine you using those hands for sin. 

“you shouldn’t have to kill anyone.” san, satisfied with how your face was lathered with face wash, dipped his hand into the water. he then, gently, slowly as to not get any in your eyes, began to wash the soap off of your face. 

you frowned at his words. 

san, sensing you wanted to speak, wiped at your mouth. he pressed his thumb along your lips, swiping at the soap. 

“i am the empress of a large . . . enterprise,” you said. you peered at him. “to ask another to do such a thing without being willing to do it myself leads to dissent. i cannot be a good leader if i am unwilling to do what i ask of my followers.”

san felt a pang in his chest. he couldn’t help but feel admiration for you. the thought of you killing anyone, of bloodying your pure hands, filled san with such unease that it twisted at his stomach. but your explanation for the brutality filled him with pride. you were not some far-off, lofty creature urging worship. you were willing to do what had to be done. 

san decided, not for the first and certainly not for the last time, he was proud to be the one you crowned victorious. 

he smoothed his hand over your face one last time. san let the pads of his fingers trail over your chin, and when you didn’t immediately push back, he continued his exploration. san dragged his fingers down the column of your throat. he couldn’t help but watch his fingers travel. san settled his finger on your clavicle, letting his thumb drift down. 

“do you need your hair washed?” san’s voice was deep even to him, and he could feel blood rushing down to his cock. his dick throbbed as he smoothed his hand downward, the thumb gently gliding along the curve of your tit. 

your nails scraped against his abdomen. “no.”

san looked over your tits, admiring the hang of them, your pebbled nipples. he wanted to put his mouth on them, san decided. 

“i do need washed,” you announced. 

san pulled away. he immediately missed your body, missed your hands against his body. 

san grabbed the body soap, and then he was returning to you. 

“lift your arms,” he said, glancing you over. 

you hummed, tilting your head. you looked him up and down. “no,” you said. “i’m sure you’re capable.”

san hesitated before you. he wasn’t sure quite what you were saying at first. but then you raised your brows at him, waiting, and san felt his dick throb painfully as realization struck him. 

san slowly, haltingly, reached for your arm. san ran his hand over your arm, lathering your skin. he hesitated before sliding his hand along the underneath of your arm, fingertips pressing into your armpit. 

you stood still, letting san wash you. he was gentle but efficient, trying not to linger on any spot in particular. 

san tried to fight the instinct to just run his hands along your body and attach his mouth to your tit, wanting to worship. you were perfect and before him, and he didn’t know how long you would let him admire you for, and he sort of wanted to test it. 

eventually, you went to the ledge of the tub, climbing to rise up out of the tub. your skin immediately broke out into goosebumps, and, seemingly despite yourself, you shivered. 

you turned to him, water falling in droplets around you. “my legs,” you said. 

and so san began to wash your legs. he was careful here, too. he ran his hands along your calves, along the backs of your knees. san took care when cleaning the insides of your thighs, biting down on his lip to keep his touch from lingering. 

once he was done, he sunk his hands into the water to wash them. 

“i’ve finished,” he said, glancing over you. 

“not quite,” you returned. you sat back on the edge of the tub. you spread out your legs, baring your cunt. “you haven’t cleaned here.”

san blinked. 

he tilted his head, confused. “but i already cleaned you there, didn’t i?”

you sighed, rolling your eyes. “you’ve licked me,” you clarified. “i need to be cleaned, choi san. i can’t walk around with a dirty cunt.”

“do i – do i lick you again?”

“choi san,” you admonished, “who knows where your mouth has been? your fingers are clean enough.”

and so san went between your legs, your knees knocking against his arms. 

san smoothed his hands over the inside of your thighs, taking you in. he hadn’t been quite able to fully look at you before. now, with his dick throbbing and hard once more, he looked his fill. 

you were laid back against the cold marble. your tits were like mounds, rising with every breath you took. 

“you better hurry,” you announced into the bathroom air, “and clean my cunt before i get too cold.”

san swallowed his hesitation down. 

then he was sliding his hands to your cunt. 

he didn’t quite know what you were wanting from him. he didn’t know if there was a special soap you wanted him to use, if you truly meant for him to clean your pussy. san was a man confused, and you didn’t look like  you were going to give him any aid any time soon. 

san thought back to how he had cleaned your cunt earlier, lapping at it like a puppy. he decided you didn’t truly mean for him to clean your pussy. 

so san slid one of his wet fingers into your damp cunt, slow and rigid. 

he watched as your body tensed beneath him. you relaxed just as quickly. 

san, for a lack of a better word, swabbed your pussy with his finger. he searched within your cunt as if it were some vessel in need of cleaning, as if he were trying to find something hidden within you that needed addressing. 

eventually, though, you got tired of it. 

“a second finger, choi san.”

san withdrew his forefinger. he was gentle as he slid both fingers into your cunt, knowing two was significantly more of a stretch than just one. you let out a long breath as you forced your body not to react to the second intrusion, lashes fluttering. 

this time san took creative liberty. he scissored his fingers out, forcing your pussy walls to spread out and accommodate his digits. you weren’t loud, instead letting out gentle gasps. 

your pussy, san noted with some degree of excitement, was gaining dampness. the hair of your cunt had already been wet from the tub, but as your body began to dry, your cunt only seemed to maintain its moisture. 

as he scissored his fingers, feeling your walls resist and relent, a decidedly lewd and wet sound began to fill the bathroom. it was, of course, the sound of your cunt wetting itself, the slick noise produced by the near-constant move of his fingers within. 

san looked over your body. you were so angelic, all spread out on the marble. his dick throbbed in response to you and your beauty.  

san changed the angle of his hand, lowering himself so he could kneel along the ledge and get a better angle. he curled his fingers up towards the front of your body, hitting that branch of nerves that had your knees squeezing around him and mouth opening wide in a sweet gasp. 

“san,” you gasped out, and – 

– and fuck –

his name was a blessing falling from your lips. san had heard many beautiful things in his life: the song of a violin in an orchestra hall; the bubbling laughter of an infant; the silence that came after a year of battle. he had never thought a single word could be beautiful, thought it could be glorious when uttered, but the way you said his name made san feel as if it was gilded and sparkling. as if you were a goddess uttering a blessing. 

san bit down on his lip, and then his second hand was joining his first at your pussy. he began thrusting his fingers into your cunt in a decisively wicked and relentless rhythm, striking the branch of nerves perfectly. 

he coupled the sensation with slick swipes of his thumb over your clit. san watched as your body reacted beneath him, thighs lifting up off of the marble, hips eagerly trying to search something out. 

you gasped into the air, back arching. 

“won’t you say something?” your voice was raspy, and when he looked down at you your legs tightened around him, knee lifting up as if you were trying to cover yourself with it. “say something.”

“you’re perfect,” san said. 

when you came, cunt tight around his fingers and mouth open wide, he thought you were divine. 

san continued to fuck his fingers into your pussy as you came, though he gentled considerably. he drunk you in greedily, eyes darting over your body as you tried to catch your breath. 

he loved you, he thought.

eventually, you let out a strangled groan, your foot on his hip and pushing him back. 

san went obediently, pulling his hand from your pussy. he stepped off of the ledge and into the tub. 

you sat up, eyes distant. he didn’t know if it was from the force of your orgasm or not. for a few moments, you just sat before him, brow furrowed and lips pressed into a firm line. you were not, for a few minutes, tether to the earth. he wondered what you saw. 

san could see the moment you came back to yourself, blinking and seemingly shaking yourself out of whatever daze you had been in. 

“are you –”

“back,” you commanded. 

san moved further into the tub. you shifted, gently lowering yourself in. san watched as you stoically washed at your inner thighs and pussy, not caring to be particularly gentle or modest. 

deeming yourself clean, san supposed, you stood from the tub. 

he went to the edge, bracing his hands on the marble. “let me help –”

“no.”

you stood, water dripping down your figure. san watched as you went to the white towels. you took one and wrapped your hair up, your body shivering in the cold air. next you wrapped yourself, though you didn’t quite stop shivering. 

“clean yourself,” you announced. you didn’t look at him as you went to the door. “you’ll find things to make a bed for yourself in the living room. i am not to be disturbed.”

san pushed himself out of the tub, kneeling on the marble, lips ready to ask a question –

but you were gone, leaving san alone in the bath with the white flowers on the marble counter.

[astrology-by-sita]

ARIANA GRANDE BIRTH CHART ANALYSIS

Hi guys! Let's look into the chart of Ariana Grande who was born 2 days before me!!

Her Ascendant is in the 9th dodecatemorion of Capricorn which is Virgo. Adventurous (9h) and perfectionist (Virgo).

The 12th part of the Ascendant is in the bound of Virgo. Valens says that this bound is lucky in theatrical matters but unlucky in love. I see this bound common in performers.

So a question you might ask is why she is so rich with her 2h ruled by saturn rx in a night chart. "Astrology is fake blah blah". No.

11th from the Lot of Fortune is wealth. So LoF is in Libra and 11th from it is Leo, ruled by the sun. The sun is in a tight square by degree to moon and jupiter and a sign based square to LoF.

The ruler of her Lot of Exaltation in Leo is the sun in Cancer and it's the 10th from Fortune which shows fame.

Her LoF is ruled by Venus the benefic of sect, and Venus is in a great condition in this chart. LoF is also conjunct the moon and Jupiter. This moon, Jupiter and LoF conjunction is in aversion to both malefics which is good. It shows good health in general and robust vitality.

The moon conjunct Jupiter (with moon Ruling 7h) shows that she is adventurous and changeable in the area of relationships. There are rumors that she is unfaithful. Well, i wont deny she does have an adventurous approach to relationships.

The moon is waxing in a night chart which isn't really good. 9th part of moon in Sagittarius. That Venus in the 5th house rejoicing shows that she's not the nost serious person you'll meet.

This is a good Venus in her sect and house of joy but its also in the same hemisphere as the sun and a morning star. This Venus can be too heated and erratic, unpredictable.

She is ruled by saturn and her saturn is in the Venus bound of Pisces (exaltation) which shows status. This saturn is retrograde and slow, and it is the out of sect malefic. No fire in this chart except the north node, wow.

There are issues with expressing the divine spark of inspiration and asserting the ego. There is that Lot of Spirit in Aries in the Mars bound ruled by Virgo Mars in Mercury bound. Her mind is probably always active, restless.

Saturn opposite Mars shows inner tension and frustration especially that is in 3h of communication. Practicing sports or martial arts would help her get this frustration out.

I usually don't do outer planets . But Uranus and Neptune are on her Ascendant directly so it is hard to ignore them..many people idolize her and view her as an icon. She is often described as "ethereal" and this is Neptune influence.

Let's do the triplicity rulers of the sect light for her. The sect light is the moon. Air triplicity for night charts is Mercury, Saturn and Jupiter. Mercury is angular. It is also belonging to the sect of the chart, as an evening star.

This is about privilige and happiness in life in general. Saturn is not angular, as you can see it is cadent. It is also the out of sect malefic.

The 1st part of her life is better than her 2nd part of life. Let's find out when the change occurs.

So in ascentional times for the sign of cancer in her latitude is 34.11 degrees. I chose Cancer bc it contains mercury her 1st triplicity ruler of the sect light. around 34 years of age a change will occur in her life. She is likely to have some difficulty.

Her father is a graphic designer and her mother is a CEO of a company thay manifactures marine communication equipment. Saturn usually represents the elders so in this case a parental figure...and it is in her 3rd house of communication, in pisces, a water sign, so it does show the profession of her mother in this case (marine communication). It is in the bound of Venus which shows Exaltation (status - CEO).

Her parents split when she was 8 years old and then she had differences with her father and they cut off contact for years. So saturn is elderly figures again and it is opposite Mars. Mars separates. So she was separated from an elderly figure in her life who is her father. "Grande" is actually the surname of her mother, she did not use her dad's surname (Butera) cause they cut off contact.

Her father is a founder of a graphic design company. this is expressed in her Taurus Venus near the IC in the 5th house of creativity.

When she was 8 years old she performed at a karaoke lounge on a cruise ship. I don't know, that is again her pisces saturn asc lord playing out!

So i think you guys want to know about the concert attack in Manchester. It occurred on May 22nd, 2017. She was in a Sagittarius year ruled by Jupiter. In the 2016 solar return she had Jupiter in its sign of depression which is Virgo...

It is conjunct rahu (erratic and unpredictable incidents), and the sign of the year which was Sagittarius contains the out of sect malefic saturn and its retrograde.

This is the Solar return for that time :

When counting from her natal Lot of Fortune (stuff that she has no control over) in Libra it is a Virgo year and that contains her natal Mars (vioIence). In the solar return the dodecatemoria of the Lot of Fortune is next to Mars in Scorpio.

This is her monthly revolution chart for when the attack happened. The sign of the year Sagittarius is in the 8th house of sudden events with saturn the out of sect malefic rx there. And the lord of the year Jupiter rx in the 6th house of injuries.

Let's do a prediction for the "year ahead" for her. This is for her upcoming birthday - June 26, 2025. She will be in a Virgo year. In the Solar return she has Virgo on the 12h with Mars and Ketu there. The lord of the year is Mercury. It is on 10h.

So some hidden info (12h is hidden stuff amd Mercury is info) can come out and affect her career (10h).

The asc in the solar return is her natal 10h so her reputation might be fluctuating for better or for worse.

[hindulivesmatter]

Resources to learn more about Hinduphobia, and Hindu culture.

Making a masterpost about this because I'm getting a lot of asks for it. The list will be updated!

Books to read:

Not Without My Daughter by Betty Mahmoody. This is the memoir of a woman stuck in Iran and how she has to illegally sneak out with her daughter. It doesn't focus on Hinduphobia but it does highlight the violence perpetuated by Muslims to women. This is a true story and a movie has also been made on it. Also, I just need to appreciate how well it's written, I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.

Aavarna by  S. L. Bhyrappa. This book basically details how Hindu history was derailed and destroyed by Mughal invaders, specifically Aurangzeb, the plot is fictional but the history is real.

All Religions Are Not the Same by Sanjay Dixit. This is a new book and I've just ordered it actually. It discusses the differences between religions and how secularism affects that.

Why I Killed Gandhi by Nathuram Godse. Includes the testimonial of the man who killed Gandhi. I'm about to read this book and I'm excited. Don't be fooled by the one-star reviews.

Hindus in Hindu Rashtra by Anand Ranganathan. Illustrates 9 examples of the hypocrisy of the current government when it comes to legalities and laws concerning Hindus.

Some people you can follow on Twitter are Dr Anand Ranganathan, The Skin Doctor, and VivanVatsa. They're all well-read on Hinduphobia and/or Hindu history.

A fantastic account on Instagram called vrindkavi posts amazing comics on Indian history and mythology.

Blogs you can follow for awareness, and learning about Hinduphobia/Hindu culture:

@rhysaka (debunking common myths, awareness, politics/geopolitics, news, culture)

@mrityuloknative (debunking common myths, awareness, politics/geopolitics, news, culture)

@main-agar-kahoon (debunking common myths, awareness, culture)

@yato-dharmastato-jayah (history and explanations, culture)

@forgotten-bharat (amazing for the history of ancient India, and culture)

@kailash-se-birha (culture, awareness)

@aranyaani (debunking common myths, awareness, politics/geopolitics, news, culture)

Interesting masterposts from other blogs:

Booklist to learn more about Hindu History by @mrityuloknative

The Ayodhya Masterpost by @mrityuloknative

Some important Hindu literature:

Mahabharata This is classified as an Itihasa text. It deals with a war between 2 royal factions and is a vehicle for describing the activities of the Avatar Krishna.

Ramayana This is also an Itihasa text. It provides the biography of Lord Rama who is considered an Avatar of Vishnu.

Bhagavad Gita This is an important text of the Vedanta school and is treated separately although it is part of Mahabharata. It provides a coherent summary of Vedanta.

Srimad Bhagavatam This is a Purana and provides a biography of Lord Krishna. This is an important text for the Vaishnava sect of Hinduism.

Shiva Purana and Linga Purana These Puranas provide the biography of Lord Shiva and are important texts for the Saivite sect of Hinduism.

Chandi or Devi Mahatmyam This is an important text for Saktas who worship Sakti or Devi. This text is really part of the Markandeya Purana.

But really, the best way to combat Hinduphobia, is to learn about our history and culture, because if you know the truth, you won't fall for the twisted narrative being peddled by the media today. If you've got to the end of this, thank you for educating yourself and learning about us.

[yukiwhitetm]

What's your writing pet peeve?

My pet peeve is when writers mix up step-family, adopted family and foster family. So often I see a writer say step-family when they mean adopted family or foster family. I think it's my their, there, they're!

Explanation of step-family vs adopted family vs foster family below:

Step-family

A step-family (step-mother, step-father, step-sister, step-brother, etc) is when a single parent from one family a marries a single parent from another family, making them into a new family. Anyone in the newly married family that one isn't biologically related to is now their step-family.

Example:

Cinderella! After Cinderella's mother dies, her father is left as a single widower. He then marries a single woman with two daughters. This makes them Cinderella's step-family - her step-mother and step-sisters. Cinderella is not related to her step-family in any way! They are only a family legally through the marriage of their parents.

Adopted family

An adopted family (adopted mother, adopted father, adopted sister, adopted brother, etc) is when someone(s), known as the the adoptee, is are legally adopted into a family, known as the adopter, without marriage, making them into their adopted family. It is usually children being adopted into families, however adults can be adopted as well, depending on the laws of your country (i.e. you can't adopt adults in the UK but you can in the USA). It is also typical that the adoptee is being adopted as the adopter's child not their sibling, however it is possible that sibling adoption exists somewhere too. When someone is adopted into a family, that makes them fully legally a part of that family and they are treated by the law as if they were born to that family, including inheritance and debts.

Example:

Roald Dahl's Matilda. Matilda is famous for her intelligence, bookishness and wits (as well as her telekinesis powers!). She survives great adversity through her abusive head teacher Miss Trunchball and her neglectful birth family. As anyone who has watched the film knows, by the end of the story, Matilda's parents give up their parental rights to her and so allow her teacher Miss Honey to adopt her as her adopted daughter. After this, Matilda and Miss Honey are a happy adopted family.

Another example is Anne Shirley of Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery who is adopted by brother and sister, Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert. She is brought up as a beloved adopted daughter by them.

Foster family

A foster family (foster mother, foster father, foster sister, foster brother, etc) is when an adult(s) fosters a child as their ward. Legally speaking, they are not family. Not by law. The adult is simply the child's caregiver, their guardian. Now, that doesn't mean that any foster parents don't see their foster children as their children and treat them as such, that does happen and is common. However, since the children are still legally part of the foster system and not lawfully the adult's children through birth or adoption, they do not have full rights to them. Foster children tend not to inherit, unless outright specified by the adult's Will amd Testament. Foster parents are given money by the government to care for the children because they are not legally their children. Think of it as a system connected to orphanages. Plenty of foster parents, however, do choose to adopt their foster children, however there are many factors effecting whether they choose to do that or not.

Example:

Wei Wuxian from The Untamed/The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation | Mo Dao Zu Shi by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. Wei Wuxian's parents die when he is five-years-old, he then ends up living on the streets until he's found and taken in by Jiang Fengmian at about nine or ten years old. However, he is not just taken into the Jiang martial sect as a disciple, he is taken into the Jiang family as a son and brother... but not legally adopted into the family. Meaning, although they don't have the terminilogy in the setting of the story, the Jiang are Wei Wuxian's new foster family.

Now, the fact that he is not legally adopted creates many problems throughout the story. Societally, it puts him in a weaker position than he might have been if adopted, he's seen as the son of a servant not the brother to the Jiang siblings Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli. And it means he can't inherit anything outside of the most extenuating of circumstances. If he were adopted he would be in a much more safe and secure position politically and socially speaking but he isn't, leaving his place in question. Sometimes, he is treated as a son of a servant and, sometimes, as the brother of the Jiang siblings, whichever is most convenient to the speaker.

Of course, his lack of adoption is likely a very purposeful choice on the part of the Jiang parents Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu, as Jiang Fengmian is grooming Wei Wuxian to be his son's perfect right hand man (no matter what he might want for himself) and sacrifical lamb, and Madam Yu sees Wei Wuxian as a threat to Jiang Cheng's inheritance being that Wei Wuxian is five days older and more talented. (Exacerbated by the rumours that Wei Wuxian is Jiang Fengmian's illegitimate son - he isn't.)

Unfortunately, they are not a good foster family to him, as Madam Yu abuses Wei Wuxian and Jiang Fengmian is complicit by not doing anything about the abuse and grooming him. Whilst Wei Wuxian's relationship with his foster siblings is complicated, sometimes strained and often toxic because of their parents' abuse (psychological towards the Jiang siblings), they do see him as their brother. Jiang Yanli outright calls Wei Wuxian her didi (little brother) in public and sacrifices her life to save him. And Jiang Cheng chooses to sacrifice his golden core (the source of his magic) to save Wei Wuxian. Unfortunately, due to manipulation by outside forces, by the end of the story, Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian as the last remaining Jiangs have a distant relationship. They will always love each other but have to let each other go. They are both close uncles to Jiang Yanli's son Jin Ling, however.

A not-example of foster family is Morgana from BBC Merlin. Early on, Morgana is presented as King Uther's ward, in other words King Uther's foster daughter, and Prince Arthur's foster sister. However, it is later revealed that she is actually King Uther's daughter! Meaning that she is Prince Arthur's half-sister (they have different mothers) and has a right to inheritance of the throne of Camelot.

See how step-family, adopted family and foster family are totally different! And should not be mixed up!

[flaskofceruleantears]

Knight-Sorceress Asteri, Last of the Astrologers

Asteri, Tarnished spellsword and, to her knowledge, the sole remaining member of the sect of mages that long predated the art of glintstone sorcery, the Astrologers. With the Shattering of the Elden Ring, and the stars being held in stasis by Starscourge Radahn for time immemorial, astrology - the magic art of being able to read fate and the future by movements of the stars - is a dying art. Asteri alone bears the torch of this lost art, and carries with it a solemn vow to record her people's history and talents before her own time comes. Along with this comes the secret, quiet hope that she may find others of her lost sorcery.

Loadout:

Commoner Headband (Altered)

Blue Cloth Vest

Nox Bracelets

Sorcerer Leggings

Alabaster Lord's Sword (R)

Academy Glintstone Staff (L)

[queensoflumis]

The Amazons of the Lunari Sect

[L-R] Empress Rosana of Clan Moon of Lumis, Entertainer Sapphire of Clan Frost, Scholar Kaitlynn of Clan Starr, Warrior Skylark of Clan Taylor

The surviving daughters of their generation, they each embodied their roles in their sect, but also reaching a tragic end.

Empress Rosana grew the medical advancements of Lumis after a plauge took many of her people in her youth and she was blessed with twin daughters, a great omen for the people of lumis, but sadly died in a fire in 2512 RA.

Entertainer Sapphire was one for the people, going down to the settlements and guilds and helping out when she could. She was beloved by all, as both Entertainer and consort of the Empress, giving a gentle hand to the common people. Saddened greatly by the death of her wife, Sapphire passed soon after in her sleep in 2516 RA.

Scholar Kaitlynn researched much into the stars, specializing in astronomy and astrology, talking with many of the Great Priestesses to further their use by the common people. She created many schools for the tribes and various settlements. A great teacher she was to her people. She outlived both Empress Rosana and Entertainer Sapphire, dying in old age in 2544 RA.

Warrior Skylark, the oldest of her generation, scared of all the death she witnessed in her youth had become a harded general, serving her people with great honor and later aquired a potion to become a Lamia. Not wanting to see all her friends die she begged Empress Rosana to send her away, regreting her decision to become a Lamia as soon as she had done it. Empress Rosana made her the Eldur Sect Queen, an honored position for one of her dear friends. Warrior Skylark left without having to witness the deaths of Empress Rosana and Entertainer Sapphire, and even later with Scholar Kaitlynn, but Queen Skylark still attended the funerals and mourned them as the sisters of bond they were to her before her transformation.

[cromwellrex2]

The Restoration: ‘As to things of State - the King settled and loved of all’

The Compromise Settlement of Charles II

King Charles II by John Michael Wright. Source: Wikipedia

FOR MANY former supporters of the Parliamentary cause, the Restoration must have been hard to take. For all the warm words of the Declaration of Breda, it must have felt to those that had followed John Pym, Arthur Heselrige, Oliver Cromwell and John Lambert, and especially the comrades of John Lilburne, that their own world had been turned upside down. For the Restoration, in so many ways, was precisely that. Not only was Charles II settled on his throne which in truth, by 1660, all but the most ardent republicans believed was the only way out of the constitutional impasse the Commonwealth had found itself in, but the House of Lords was re-established; the Church of England, including a hierarchy of bishops was reintroduced; the New Model Army was abolished and even the Divine Right of Kings was reinstated. It must have seemed to the advocates of the Good Old Cause that all those years of tumult, death and revolution were for naught: the Monarchy and all its works was back with a vengeance.

And of course, there was indeed vengeance. As described last time, the regicides that were still alive were pursued mercilessly by the new government, even the dead not being safe from the King’s wrath. In addition, the so-called “Cavalier Parliament” consisting of triumphal Royalist MPs, presided in many respects over a victor’s peace. The disestablishment of the New Model Army was, after the executions of the regicides, the most visible sign of a restored monarchy. The Army had been the instrument of Charles I’s defeat and the constant protector of the Commonwealth, and it had also been a major political player that forcibly dissolved Parliament after Parliament. To see this formidable military force that had destroyed the Royalist armies, crushed the Scots and ended the Irish Rebellion, simply disappear was no clearer sign that not only was the Parliamentary cause dead, but that the gravest threat to the Stuart regime was also no more - and without a shot being fired. The successor regiments that later became the Coldstream Guards and the Royal Horse Guards, comprised the core of a 7,000 man militia, loyal solely to the monarch - a situation that Charles I had long craved. These regiments would become the basis of the standing British Army, whose oath of loyalty remains to the monarch - an echo of the settlement of England’s civil wars.

Charles’ religious settlement was, on the face of it, a restoration of the Anglican Church in its prewar form. Episcopalianism was back, including in Scotland, supported by a new Book of Common Prayer. Bishops were also readmitted to a restored House of Lords, where they sit still. Despite Charles’ Breda promises of religious toleration, the Solemn League and Covenant was repealed, and the cause which had spurred the Scots into rebellion and war against the King’s government in the late 1630s was effectively suppressed. Although Charles himself was personally quite tolerant of different religious persuasions, including notoriously, Roman Catholicism, his Parliament was not. The confident Cavaliers remembered how hard the Presbyterians had tried to enforce their version of Protestantism on the three kingdoms; how the rule of the Major-Generals had tried to squeeze all joy out of Christian worship and, recalled with horror, the republicanism and threat to land ownership that millennial sects, sheltering within the ranks of the Levellers, had tried to introduce. A number of anti- Puritan bills were passed, most notably the Corporation Act of 1661 (which excluded non-Anglicans from public office) and the Five Mile Act of 1665 (which banned non-Anglican ministers from their former livings). These Acts effectively excluded Presbyterians and other low church groups from participating in the new political or religious establishment. This led ultimately to these disenfranchised faithful into forming their own churches. They called themselves Nonconformists and Dissenters, eventually formalising themselves into the various strands of Methodism. Within these churches the spirit of anti-Royalist and Anglican sentiment remained, leading ultimately to eighteenth century radicalism and part of the impulse that fuelled the desire for independence within Britain’s American colonies.

Scotland was freed of military occupation and its Parliament restored, but government garrison troops remained and Scotland never recovered the independent swagger it had enjoyed earlier in the century when it was able to interfere in the affairs of England and influence the outcomes of the civil wars with easy confidence. With its government impoverished and subservient, its independent military strength non-existent, its religion subordinated and the fault line between Highland and Lowland populations exacerbated by the civil wars, Scotland was a shadow of its prewar self. The days of routine Scottish invasions of England were over forever. In less than fifty years, Scotland’s mercantile class, faced with bankruptcy following catastrophic economic decisions and ill-advised colonial adventures, would petition the English Parliament and Crown for an Act of Union, granted in 1707, which would make the United Kingdom a political, as well as a monarchical, reality.

In Ireland, Charles’ government was focused and ensuring rebellion did not recur and made great efforts to rehabilitate, and reconcile with, the landowning Old English aristocracy and breaking the religious solidarity with the Old Irish rural workers and peasants that had driven so much of the rebellion’s early success. Charles’ own pro-Catholic sympathies helped this process, but he also did little to restrain Scottish Protestant settlement in the north and west, thus sowing the seeds of a sectarian conflict that would get ever more vicious over the next three hundred years.

But the Restoration was not absolute and Charles did not intend it to be, whatever the attitudes of the Cavalier Parliament. Charles had not spent half his life prior to his return on the run in order to simply repeat the mistakes of his father. Although not the constitutional monarch envisaged by George Monck, Charles nonetheless attempted to rule in partnership with Parliament. For Charles, his Divine Right to rule was a device to secure his legitimacy, not a principle by which a king should govern. There were several political factors that caused Charles to eventually dissolve the Cavalier Parliament in 1679, but new elections were held immediately. Unlike his father, Charles was never tempted by Personal Rule and was rarely in dispute with his Parliaments, unlike his predecessor governments. Parliamentary rule was solidified under Charles’ settlement in a way unimaginable in the years leading up to the civil wars.

Similarly, for all the anti-Puritanism of his regime, there was no systematic persecution of dissenters and no legal requirement for his subjects to adopt the new Prayer Book or the Anglican Communion. In Ireland, the ferocious oppression of Catholics and Irish self-determination was still in the future, and that would be driven principally by Protestant settlers, exacerbated significantly by the renewal of civil conflict in Ireland in the late 1680s. Charles was a cautious and astute man. His love affair with particularly, the English, population, had significantly dissipated by the end of his reign, but all his subjects, whatever their views of his government, were grateful to him for ensuring peace was maintained and that the conflicts that had led the inhabitants of the British Isles to fight and kill each other for years, were not reignited.

The immediate view of history, that lasted well into the nineteenth century, was that the British civil wars and the republican experiment were anomalies, best forgotten. The skill of the Stuart and Hanoverian regimes in suggesting the civil wars were no more than a family quarrel, quickly forgiven and forgotten, is the reason why there is no direct link between the proto-socialism of the Putney Debates and the the later Radicalism of the eighteenth century. Issues such as land reform and universal suffrage were effectively barred from public debate for 150 years.

Charles’ later reign did contain conflict and there was even a Radical attempt to kidnap the King at one point, but the most dangerous issue was that of the succession. A new political Parliamentary party, with a sneaking admiration for the Good Old Cause, called the Whigs, was formed determined to prevent the accession of Charles’ brother the openly Roman Catholic James, to the throne given the absence of a legitimate heir to Charles. A staunchly Royalist group which became known as the Tories formed to oppose the Whigs and support the Stuart succession. Thus the contours of future Parliamentary debate and factionalism began to take shape.

In February 1685, Charles died. There was, in the event, no challenge initially to James ascending the throne as King James II. However, the new monarch resembled his father in a haughty attitude and political ineptitude. The conflicts that drove civil wars would be reprised and, once again, absolute monarchy would be the loser.

[lemonlimebitcoin]

:(hello there. a fellow purpleblood asking h!j!nx here): :(! assume youre at least moderately rel!g!ous? with you wear!ng facepa!nt and all. any spec!f!c sect you belong to? personally ! dont really l!ke the clownchurch at all, but ! do wanna keep my m!nd open on th!ngs):

HA: Express your concern.

‟thE fIsh swAm dEEp bEnEAth thE lImEstOnE mOUth Of A rIvEr cAvE.¹⁴⁰⁹⁸ bElIEvIng thAt thE gArblEd EYEs Of thE pOtAtO trEEs cOUld nOt fOllOw thEm thErE.¹⁴⁰⁹⁹”

‟YEt As thEY swAm thEIr fIns brUshEd AgAInst fAmIlIAr rOOts. tAnglEd nEts thAt ExtEndEd fAr bEnEAth thE rIvErbEd.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean.

HA: Rephrase???

‟pErhAps At thE hEIght Of hEr mOst dElEctAblE hUbrIs thE hErEtIc cOUld fInd cOmmOn grOUnd wIth thOsE OthErs thAt rEjEctEd thEIr sAcrEd rEspOnsIbIlItY tO thE wIckEd bUskErs Of thE dArk cArnIvAl.⁰⁰⁰⁰”

‟bEnEAth thE pAlE mAsk wAs nEIthEr thE spIrIt Of cOmEdY Or trAgEdY, bUt A vOId thAt nO lOngEr dAncEd AcrOss thE stAgE At All.⁰⁰⁰⁰”

-- hydrostatAcquiescant [HA] attached the file [UNRELATED.MP3]

‟thErE OncE wAs A grOUp Or sElf-rIghtEOUs fEmAlE fOOls whO dIsrEspEctEd thE prOmIsE Of thE dArk cArnIvAl wIth An UnrEAlIstIc fOIlIng - "thE cUrtAInfAll HArlEqUInAdE". bUt thEIr lOvIng trAnsfOrmAtIvE hAUghtY IdEAs wErE stAmpEd OUt bY thE rIghtEOUs lAUgh Of thE trUE prOphEts.⁹⁹⁹⁸⁹”

[seomapping]

Brooklyn Jewish Funeral Services: Supporting Families with Respect

Jewish Funeral Service Brooklyn

Funerals are solemn occasions that vary across cultures, each infused with unique traditions and rituals. When it comes to Jewish funeral services in Brooklyn, the rich tapestry of customs and practices reflects a deep-seated respect for both the departed and their heritage.

Introduction

In the heart of Brooklyn, Jewish funeral services hold a distinctive place in the cultural mosaic. Understanding the intricacies of these services is not only a matter of respecting tradition but also a way of supporting grieving families during a challenging time.

Understanding Jewish Funeral Customs

Jewish funeral customs are deeply rooted in tradition and symbolism. From specific rituals to the simplicity in arrangements, every aspect carries significance. The emphasis on modesty extends to the choice of caskets and the immediate burial concept.

Location and Facilities in Brooklyn

Brooklyn offers a range of Jewish funeral homes, each equipped with services and amenities catering to the specific needs of the community. The availability of these facilities provides a comforting environment for families during their time of grief.

Traditional Jewish Burial Practices

The concept of immediate burial is a central tenet in Jewish funeral practices. The simplicity in casket choices reflects a commitment to honoring the deceased without unnecessary extravagance, aligning with the cultural emphasis on humility.

The Role of the Rabbi

Rabbis play a pivotal role in Jewish funeral services, providing spiritual guidance and actively participating in the funeral rites. The inclusion of prayers and religious ceremonies adds a profound layer of meaning to the proceedings.

Shiva and Mourning Period

The shiva tradition, a period of mourning, is a unique aspect of Jewish funeral customs. Exploring the significance of this tradition and the support provided by the community during this time sheds light on the communal approach to grief.

Pre-Planning Jewish Funerals

Pre-planning Jewish funerals is becoming increasingly common, offering advantages such as peace of mind and ensuring adherence to cultural practices. This section provides insights into how individuals can navigate the pre-planning process.

Unique Features of Jewish Headstones

Jewish headstones carry profound symbolism and often feature specific inscriptions. Understanding the regulations and traditions surrounding headstones in Jewish cemeteries provides a glimpse into the depth of cultural significance.

Cultural Sensitivity and Inclusivity

Judaism comprises various sects, each with unique practices. Exploring the ways funeral services cater to this diversity ensures that the needs of the entire community are met with sensitivity and inclusivity.

Dealing with Grief and Offering Support

Grief is a complex emotion, and this section delves into the psychological aspects of mourning. Additionally, it highlights the importance of support networks and available resources for those navigating the grieving process.

Comparisons with Non-Jewish Funeral Services

Drawing comparisons between Jewish and non-Jewish funeral services provides a nuanced understanding of the cultural distinctions. Acknowledging these differences is essential for funeral service providers to meet the diverse needs of the community.

Memorialization Options in Brooklyn

Beyond traditional burials, this section explores alternative memorialization options available in Brooklyn, including cremation. Understanding these choices ensures that families can make informed decisions aligned with their cultural preferences.

Maintaining a Respectful Environment

Creating an environment that respects diverse cultural practices is crucial in the funeral service industry. This section emphasizes the importance of cultural sensitivity and open communication to ensure a respectful and supportive atmosphere.

Legal and Administrative Considerations

Navigating legal requirements is an integral part of funeral services. This section outlines the administrative aspects involved in Jewish funerals, providing a comprehensive guide to assist families during a challenging time.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Jewish funeral services in Brooklyn stand as a testament to the rich cultural heritage and traditions that shape them. By embracing these customs, funeral service providers contribute to creating a meaningful and respectful experience for grieving families.

[h3artf3ltint3nt]

Never in his wildest dream had he imagined he'd be killed by his brother in any way. Yes, this isn't really his brother, this is Mingjue's mindless fierce corpse, not knowing the difference between friend or foe. Huaisang hadn't expected the end battle to contain fully as many people present as it did, especially not Kexin, but she had somehow found her way to the Guanyin Temple. She's now trying to stop the bleeding from a fatal wound caused by the man dearest to them both, a man long since dead as well. Huaisang gives her a weak smile. "N-no... u-use..." He is dying. He knows it. She knows it. Everyone there knows it. Huaisang expected to die today. It is all fine. All letters and documents are in order in his work room. Nie Shuchang will become sect leader, being the closest blood relative to Huaisang. "Shi-m-mei... h-help... help... t-tánggē..." Everything is getting colder and number, the colours draining from his vision. "M-make sure... san-ge... dies..." The snake needs to die. He does not deserve to live and Huaisang knows that Kexin will make sure it happens if he survives this battle. "L-love... y-you..." he breathes out, feeling the last of his life running out with the thick crimson blood painting the floor beneath him. It's finally over. Now, Nie Huaisang gets to rest.

(no meme, just Ezra being EVIL T-T )

"A-Sang!" she cries out the moment the hit lands. Mingjue's corpse seems to hesitate for a split second, before he turns on Guangyao again. Meanwhile, Wanyin makes an attempt to grab her arm to keep her from running into the danger, but he's injured and she's determined, so the attempt fails. The moment she gets to Huaisang, she kneels beside, immediately tearing off a square of her robe to press to the wound. "It's okay. You'll be okay. I'll stop the bleeding and get healers-" she rambles, despite her vision already becoming blurry from unshed tears. Then he speaks, and his voice is so weak and she can no longer deny that she won't be able to save him. "No. No. Please. You can't-I can't-" is as far as she gets before she can't hold back her tears any longer. They fall in a never ending stream as she tries to focus on his words

At his urge for her to help Shuchang she can only give a barely there nod, too consumed by grief already to properly acknowledge such a thing. His next request garners far more attention. Make sure San-ge dies...he killed Dà-gē and the resentment that had consumed him and caused Huaisang's injury was because of that. "I will. I promise," she says, her voice barely audible. When he says love you, a part of her wants to scream out 'then don't leave me' but it would do no good. "L-love you," she manages to choke out with a sob. The moment he draws his last breath she holds him close to her, as he had Dà-gē all those years ago, and heaving sobs rack her body.

When Mingjue had died, Huaisang had been a tether, the only thing keeping her from letting her emotions completely take over. She had to comfort and be there for him, so she couldn't lose it. But now, there wasn't that tether. She didn't know how long it was but suddenly her grief transformed into a blinding white rage that she had never felt before, urged on by Xin Yi's echo of his words in her mind "make sure… san-ge… dies…". Die. Kill. Who could really blame her? Losing the person she cared about most, after a rough couple of days for all of them. A time in which she hadn't the time to meditate or balance out her qi with her fan. She still practiced saber cultivation, after all and angry outbursts were common for those that practiced it. Perhaps she was on the verge of a qi deviation for real at the moment, but she simply couldn't bring herself to care if she was. She gently moves him off her lap, grasps Xin Yi's hilt and stands, a dark look that was practically foreign to her face outside of Sunshot crossing her features and makes her way towards him.

"Jin Guangyao," she says, far too calmly. "This. All of this, is because of you. You took them both from me," she says, her voice still eerily calm. That is until she lunges at him with a shout of "Why should you get to keep breathing?!" Unfortunately, Xichen is able to apprehend her, though not before she manages to get a slash in. Then someone is pulling her away and taking Xin Yi from her hands. When they let go she starts sobbing again. At some point in the scuffle, she had cut her hand, which she only notices when she goes to wipe at her tears. Fresh blood, and they're only blocking her from getting to Guangyao. Not blocking her from the coffin. That's how she could keep her promise.

Making a show of forcing herself to stand on shaky legs, reaching out to the coffin to assist her, she places her cut hand right atop the seals that Wei Wuxian made on it. She plays it even further by screaming and dropping back to the ground as Mingjue's corpse breaks free, immediately lunging for Guangyao. She crawls back over towards Huaisang. The suddenness made it rather impossible for anything to be done before Guangyao is in Mingjue's grasp. Her promise complete. When Xichen turns to her, she's crying. "It was an accident. I-I didn't know there was blood on my hand. And before that when I- I was just so angry and hurt and I couldn't stop myself I didn't mean-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Er-ge," she sobs, bringing her knees to her chest and continuing to sob into them. And she notes that the majority of it isn't a ruse. She was genuinely conflicted. But in the end, that promise to Huaisang and the need for Dà-gē to be avenged overcame that conflict enough for her to make the decision she did. Even if it was likely a decision that would haunt her for however long she decides to stay alive.

[celestialsibyl]

planetary archetypes: ancient astrology

𖤓 hierarchy of the cosmos 𖤓

the luminaries [sun & moon] are the brightest celestial bodies that emit the most light. the moon ☽ is the sun’s ☉ mirror, reflecting solar light and illuminating the night sky

the following planets are in order according to their distance from earth.

moon ☽ ➝ mercury ☿ ➝ venus ♀➝ sun ☉ ➝ mars ♂ ➝ jupiter ♃ ➝ saturn ♄

sun ☉ diety: sol [roman] hēlios [greek] shamash [babylonian] surya [indian] is the light of the mind, perception of the soul, the source of energy. its creative power is absolute. at a personal level, sun expresses itself as self-esteem and confidence, sense of purpose, ambition and determination. associated with the symbolism of an emperor with his central authority, leadership. illuminator. so[u]l.

moon ☽ diety: luna [roman] selēnē [greek] sin [babylonian] chandra [indian] is a cosmic mirror, reflection of solar and creative light, thus the analogy with multiplication, reproduction, and chaos. it is constantly going through its phases and cycles from new moon to full moon. associated with the mother and nurturing principle. body.

mercury ☿ diety: mercurius [roman] hermēs [greek] nebu [babylonian] budha [indian] is the writer of destinies, the scribe god, bestower of intellectual and practical wisdom. interpreter of dreams. mercury rules the mind and as the fastest moving planet, it symbolizes the speed of thought. messenger and trickster.

venus ♀ diety: venus [roman] aphroditē [greek] ishtar [babylonian] shukra [indian] is the goddess of love, femininity, beauty, music, art, and sexual pleasures. venus is the yin side of libido, passive and dark. venus is magnetic and seductive, she knows how to make things happen without actually doing anything tangible. brings harmony and softness. affinity with artistic endeavours, aesthetics and creativity.

mars ♂ diety: martus [roman] arēs [greek] nergal [babylonian] kuja [indian] is the god of war, the warrior, the rage, anger, passion, vitality, will to fight; the will to live. it is violent aggressive. the yang side of libido, active and light. mars brings destruction and chaos when not disciplined. mars is sharp either physically or mentally.

jupiter ♃ diety: jove [roman] zues [greek] marduk [babylonian] brihaspati [indian] is the sage of wisdom, abundance, optimism, faith, luck, philosophy, and higher knowledge. jupiter is the biggest planet in the entire solar system, symbolizing expansion and growth. jovial and hopeful.

saturn ♄ diety: saturnus [roman] kronos [greek] ninurta [babylonian] shani [indian] is elder, the authoritative figure who puts you in solitary and through long-lasting punishments. saturn makes you or breaks you, for the greater good in the long-term. the visible rings around saturn symbolize constraints and restrictions. what bounds you can also be your key to freedom.

classification of the planets:

hot - sun ☉ mars ♂ jupiter ♃ venus ♀ changeable - mercury ☿

cold - moon ☽ saturn ♄

dry - mars ♂ sun ☉ saturn ♄ changeable - mercury ☿

moist - moon ☽ venus ♀ jupiter ♃

planets can be classified as hot, cold, moist, and dry

benefic - jupiter ♃ venus ♀ changeable - mercury ☿

malefic - saturn ♄ mars ♂

planets can be classified as benefic, "doers of good", or malefic, "doers of bad".

masculine - sun ☉ jupiter ♃ saturn ♄ mars ♂ androgynous - ☿

feminine - moon ☽ venus ♀

diurnal - sun ☉ jupiter ♃ saturn ♄ common - mercury ☿

nocturnal - moon ☽ venus ♀ mars ♂

planets can belong to either the diurnal (day) sect or to the nocturnal (night) sect.

what planet is your chart ruler? what condition is it in? let me know in the comments!

made by yours truly <3

- @celestialsibyl

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for a Fic

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1. So there's been a few times where I've stumbled upon a fic that I wouldn't have normally read/sought out, and ended up really liking it. For the next itmf, what are some fics like that for the other fair readers of this blog, and why did you like it?

The Teenage Girl's Self-Saving System by mercyandmagic (T, 108k, WLJ/WC, WLJ/NMJ, wangxian, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, JC/WQ, OC main character, transmigration, everyone’s least fave characer gets character development!) evadingreallife: ‘i'm not a fan of OCs, modern-to-xianxia, self( or any-) inserts, and ofc wang lingjiao, but the premise of this fic was so crack-ish that i just HAD to check it out, and it was a good one in the end´

Let the streetlights guide you home by tellthemstories (M, 37k, wangxian, modern, UST, car racing, Mojo’s bookmark) flamingwell: ‘aka the illegal street racing AU you never knew you needed BUT YOU NEED IT!! Also one of the most *incredible* podfics I've ever listened to’

Spilled Pearls by nirejseki (T, 88k, LQR/WRH, sect leader nie / WRH, slow burn, angst w/ happy ending) Mod L: ‘Aside from all the WIPs I follow I couldnt decide between these three lol For this first one, it’s somewhat difficult for me to grow interested enough to read a fic on pairings and characters I’m neutral about or not fond of. It was really fascinating to read and I liked the exploration of LQR & WRH’s characters in this one.’

The Cloudweavers《云织之者》 by Joythea (T, 38k, wangxian, Madam Lan & OCs, post-canon, OC pov, fluff & angst) Mod L: ‘OCs can be really hit & miss for me and I don’t usually go for fics with OC povs. I loved to read WX’s love from outside and also about madam Lan.’

Diplomatic Incidents by Ariaste (M, wangxian, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, dragon age crossover, getting together, linguistics, fluff, post-canon mdzs) Mod L: ‘I generally prefer MXTX crossovers when reading MXTX works. And outside of those, I prefer similarly themed(?) crossovers. But sometimes you feel like exploring and come across a crossover that you didn’t think would work well at all. The differences and similarities between the main pairings were just really nice :’D’

~*~

2. hello! I know this is a wangxian blog mostly but I was just curious if anyone knows any good xuexiao fics? Not ones with heavy angst or unhappy endings. So many xuexiao fics are far too sad for me and I was hoping someone might know some fics that are happier. I just read Misalignment by Kasasagi and was looking for something kind of similar? In that Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen have a healthy relationship / talk things through and a happy ending. Could be either Canon or modern era. Also please no songxiaoxue. I like song lan but I just want xuexiao fics. Thank you ~~~

The body's way of saying... by Aoshika_October (T, 2k, WIP, XueXiao, Modern AU, Sickfic, Common Cold, Fever, Caretaking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Literal Sleeping Together, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Relationship, tags will vary depending on the chapter, Idiots in Love, Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, terms of endearment, Self-Indulgent)

3. For the next itmf... are there any fics where wwx doesn't get blamed for everything? Even when people are "on his side" they're calling him stupid and getting mad at him all the time. Yeah he's reckless with his own safety but it's rarely acknowledged that he was literally raised to be that way? And that kind of mentality and upbringing takes a lot to break free from, and yelling at someone for it isnt exactly helpful. And the Lans are always written as being mad at wwx for not realizing lwj was in love with him when there really was no way wwx could have clued into that pre-resurrection? Are there any fics that just... point out how cruel that kind of treatment is? That call people out for ALWAYS blaming wwx even when it's not really his fault?

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not Rated, 82k, WIP, WangXian, Canon, Slow-ish burn, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Light Angst, Fluff, Developing Relationship, warprize au with a twist, Eventual Smut)

The Young Masters of Four Seasons Manor by gaotamao (G, 91k, WenZhou, WangXian, WOH Crossover, Time Regression, fix-it, WKX raises monstrous sons, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, No Golden Core Transfer) x-over with WoH, but even if you're not familiar with WoH it's worth a read just for the great outsider POV of WWX and LWJ's lives

The Chinese Garden Court by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Reincarnation, Immortality, Museums)

The Return Series by LtLJ (G, 63k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Brothers Reconciliation, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, breaks from canon during the time skip, YL WWX, CQL Canon, BAMF LWJ, BAMF NHS, Hurt/Comfort, WQ Lives)

~*~

4. mdzs prompts/ looking for

idea originated from a fic I hope that you will come and meet me by feyburner

"I will, I'll sleep here every night. Do you understand? If Lan Zhan wants me to, I will. If Lan Zhan wants me in his bed, that's where I am. If Lan Zhan wants me gone, then I'm gone"

idea: what if lan zhan did want wei ying to be gone or disappear? seems impossible but i want it (ʘᗩʘ’) @ner-u​

Does anyone even read work titles? idk what to call this by Nighttdust (M, 14k, WangXian, Curses, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Established Relationship,Post-Canon, Happy Ending, Protective WWX, Insecurity)

the ugly truth by reidviolet (T, 3k, wangxian, modern, heavy angst, breaking up, sad WWX, losing interest, sad ending)

Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, modern, medical residents au, childhood friends, pining, oblivious WWX, sexual content)

~*~

5. For the next In The Mood For post I'd really like to see… anyone's favorite fics with Wei Wuxian in peril! Of course he's very capable and powerful, but everybody needs help sometimes. Would like to see WWX in danger and have someone ride to his rescue -- Lan Wangji is a fav of course, but even better would be Wen Ning, or Jiang Cheng or the juniors, or anyone else who cares about Wei Wuxian. @mikkeneko​

Story-Shaped by lingering_song (T, 13k, WangXian, NHS & WWX, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Inventor WWX, Found Family, Mentioned Character Death, Alcohol, Protective NHS, WangXian Endgame, Not JC Friendly, Not particularly gentry sects friendly overall tbh) NHS does the rescuing in his own way

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation,  [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin ) WWX goes missing, Jiang Cheng and LWJ team up to find him. The focus is on all the Emotions that team up brings up, but very much does include a dramatic rescue scene

In The Dark Right Now by phnelt (T, 10k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, graphic depictions of injuries, trapped in a cave, Near Death Experience, fatalistic thinking, established wangxian, Family Feels, Nobody dies in this fic, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort) the one where wy and jc are trapped in a cave in- lz on the radio

just as the stories say by TheDameJudiWench (T, 11k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Medical Procedures, some gore, Yunmeng brothers feelings, Family Dynamics, Attempted Murder, Injury Recovery, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Found Family, POV Outsider, Revenge, Grief/Mourning, Forgiveness, Whump, Near Death Experiences) the one where a young girl tries to murder the yiling laozu and almost succeeds

See Me, Feel Me (Listening to You) by Ghost_Honey (T, 29k, WangXian, Junior Quartet, POV WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX's Abyssmal Self-Esteem, Emotional Healing, Angst, Curses, WWX is an Unreliable Narrator, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, The Angst is Mainly Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling) the one where wy is cursed so he can’t see or feel anyone who feels strongly about him and assumes this means that the people he cares about actually hate him

Something at the Door by Pip (Moirail) (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, background 3zun, Background Yi City trio, Intrusive Thoughts, Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mystery, Urban Fantasy) wwx has a horror-flavored bad time - mostly lwj helping, with a dash of jc for spice

medium blues by darkterrible (E, 193k, WangXian, Horror, Spooky, Opposites Attract, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Ghosts, Necromancy) WWX requires rescuing on a frequent basis

Inkstone by PorcelainBlue (T, 7k, WangXian) an AU that begins with the Twin Jades and some juniors coming to the rescue of Artist! WWX

heroic aftermath by Last_For_Hell (T, 5k, WangXian, Aftermath of Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Guilt, References to WWX’s Cynophobia, Implied Sexual Content) the Juniors are caring for a critically-injured WWX (he got mauled by a pack of dog yao!), feeding him spiritual energy in relays until LWJ arrives.)

The Losses and Gains Remain Uncommented On by caesteves (Not Rated, 7k, WangXian, WWX & LXC, Married Couple, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Worried LWJ, Case Fic, (sort of), Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort)

Don't Hold Too Much in Your Heart by caesteves (Not Rated, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, Worried LWJ, Fluff, Accidents, Concussions)

transitory by lao_you_tiao (E, 5k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Post-Canon, Porn with Feelings) LWJ rescues a drunken and roofied WWX from a would-be rapist

Cotton Wool ch 5 and Hubris by incendir, the same story from LWJ’s and WWX’s POV respectively, both by incendir; LWJ comes to rescue WWX from an attempted rape by prior harassers. (WWX has been doing a devastating job of self-defense, but is injured, dissociating, and in need of talking down and comforting.)

~*~

6. hi! this blog is such an amazing resource for people like me (bad at using ao3) and thank you guys for the work you do!! sorry if this has been answered, but do you know of any fics that are about a-qing? not as a background or side character but as the/a focus of the fic. brave and clever a-qing :,(

The sparrow's curious song by Mhalachai (T, 13k, NHS & A-Qing, adoption, A-Qing gets happy ending, NHS’ revenge plotting) NHS, intrigued by the clever street rat who picked his pocket, recruits AQ as a disciple

stare at the sun by chomrafy (Not rated, 2k, A-Qing & QS, A-Qing & JRS, canon divergence, fluff, light angst, family feels, everyone lives au, or at least A-Q & QS live) AQ is taken in as a babysitter by QS, who has run away with JRS to live incognito in Yi City

despite it all by novalotypo (T, 292k, wangxian, canon divergence, god of luck WWX, memory loss, non-linear narrative, WIP) WWX, ascended as a God of Luck, takes AQ as his First Disciple

walk with me (I think we'll find a way) by bringsnofear (T, 9k, SL/XXC, AQ & SL, AQ & XXC, hurt/comfort, mute SL, XXC lives, blind XXC, AQ lives, reunions, yi city fix-it) with A-Qing as the main character

Covered By Frost and Snow by Siamesa (T, 44k, wangxian, canon divergence, outsider POV, canon-typical violence, grief/mourning, disabled character, angst & humor, male-female friendship, families of choice, not everyone dies au, major character injury, rabbits, female friendship, WIP)

someone will remember us by captain_apostrophe, MonocerosRex (M, 39k, ChengQing, MingQing, Fluff, yunmeng siblings, Family Feels, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, he gets thoroughly trounced dw, Lan Yi did nothing wrong, mianmian is a rare Functional Bisexual, Canon Schmanon, previous generation, Blood, Violence, Guns, Cowboys, jgs gets what he deserves, MDZS Women Appreciation Weeks) a would-be rapist learns not to fuck with poor defenseless little blind girls.

Fractured - yet unbroken by ThetenthtenbeingofTen (G, <1k, OYZZ/OFC, wangxian, post-canon, yi-city, OYZZ getting married, reincarnation) AQ is reborn to OYZZ and his OC wife as twin girls, one blind and one mute (her soul having been fragmented); they become personal disciples to LWJ and WWX.

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7. mdzs prompts/ looking for

lwj and wwx having secret relationship (cloud recess study age?? or maybe older, anything is fine) and wwx died or got into a comma. their relationship only got known after wwx died/comatose @ner-u

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8. Hi!!! Thanks for everything yall do for us 1st off. Secondly, for the next itmf do yall know of any fics where one part of a couple and 1 half is reincarnated in modern times? I love this kind of fic and have only read a couple (throughline by lunatea and all old things are new again by the feels whale come to mind) especially the intensity of when the reincarnated person gets all their memories back! @curlytopped​

the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by b_ofdale (T, 29k, wangxian, modern, reincarnation au, post-canon, immortal LWJ, jack of all trades artist WWX, pining, light angst, reunions, hurt/comfort, implied sexual content, asexual character, good vibes, Mojo’s post)

🧡 The World We Made by  updatebug (T, 80k, WangXian, The Old Guard fusion, Immortals, Immortal  LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, Modern AU, The Old Guard  AU, Temporary Character Death) 

I will wait by shadowchan93 (T, <1k, wangxian, major character death, post-canon, immortal LWJ, bittersweet, angst, grief, sadness, not super sad ending but not a happy one either)

Yiling Poltergeist by jaemyun (G, 16k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mention of canon history, Ghost! Wwx, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Humor, Fluff)

Thirty-three Lashes by Winglesss (E, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Reincarnation, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Nightmares, Ghosts, Curses, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Memory Loss)

🧡We Were Never Strangers by NeverEnoughWangxian (M, 36k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, POV WWX, (mostly), College Student WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Immortal LWJ, Immortal LSZ, Dreams, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content)

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9. Hello Lovely Mods! Thank you so much for all you do. I was wondering for the next I'm In The Mood For - if you could suggest any fics where voice cultivation is explored/used. I read a fic where Jingyi learned it, but I'd be happy with anyone. It was such a cool premise that I find myself wanting more. Thanks in advance 😁 @ommited-miscellaneously

Tumblr comic by @lee-luca​  may have originated the idea of LJY studying vocal cultivation.

Please Take This Radish by Wildcard (M, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bad Parenting, not abusive parenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comedy, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Dysfunctional Family, demonic radishes, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, For Want of a Nail, Temporary Character Death, Mistaken Identity, musical cultivation) has Xue Yang following Wen Ning home to the burial mounds, where he becomes wwx's 'disciple' (or the teen gets forcibly adopted by the entire village) and learns voice cultivation from wwx. really REALLY good wip au of burial mound days/first siege of burial mounds

Running up that hill by Lhaewiel (M, 9k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Tumblr Link) sorry to answer a Mood request with a Fic Finder request, but I seem to recall a Tumblr fic (illustrated with photos taken from other of the actors’ roles) in which all three Yunmeng Jiang Siblings were musical demonic cultivators: WWX of course played the dizi, JYL played the pipa, and JC sang.

These bright and violent delights by worrystone (G, 15k, XiCheng, ZhanCheng, ChengXian, ChengYao, ChengJue, JC/Everyone, Demonic Cultivator JC, Role Reversal, what if jc had fallen off the cliff instead?, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, read warnings girlies don't say i didn't warn you) role reversal; Yiling Laozu! JC uses vocal musical demonic cultivation

Mending the Pieces by JustAWanderingBabbit (G, 98k, 3zun, post-canon, reincarnation) the Jin Rusong of JustAWanderingBabbit’s stories is a vocal musical cultivator, notably in third-generation fic Mending the Pieces

Different Paths to the Same Route by JustAWanderingBabbit (T, 184k, WangXian, 3Zun, Canon Divergence, What-If, Implied Necrophilia, At least they're talking now, Medicical science in a cultivational world, Magical Genetic Testing, Family Issues) chapter 23 has him being tutored by Lan Jingyi (who thus gets to be a cool Shixiong.)

Gift by Befallings (G, 403, WWX & LXC, Bunnies as a cure to Sadness, Seclusion is Stupid, Light Angst, Angst and Feels, Family Bonding) WWX proposes vocal cultivation to LXC (during Bunny Therapy) as a musical path for LJY

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10. Y’all I read a threadfic and now I’ve got a craving. I’m in the mood for stories where the Lan brothers aren’t on good terms. Specifically after Wei Wuxian’s death and the ensuing 16 years, but I’ll take whatever I can get. I just want some Lan family angst 🥰

恩仇仙人- Enchou xianren (Immortal Avenger) by AshayaTReldai  (E, 133k, WIP, WangXian, Angst, Mental Anguish, Pining, Revenge, Execution, internalinter-clan politics, Reincarnation, TGCF notions of ascension and deity, WWX/LWJ marriage, First Time, Post-LWJ whipping, Injury Recovery, Issues of justice, Torture, Not friendly to the Clans - they all get their comeuppance, Hurt/Comfort, Dark LWJ, novel compliant characterisation)

kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Angst, Fluff) is not the main focus but I really liked the Lan brothers relationship in kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight

Bitter Recompense by mondengel (M, 1k, LXC & LWJ, Angst)

to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 34k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soulmates, Chronic Illness, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Hanahaki Disease, but as a curse, Feelings Realization, obsession with interior design, Fluff and Smut, Family Angst, sibling angst, Wedding, Motion Sickness, sect politics, Marriage Proposal)

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11. Hi!! Lately I've read one fic with JC and LXC being a couple and I liked it! So for the next "I'm in a mood for" I'd like recommendations of fic with JC and LXC falling in love, arranging marriage, etc. With Wangxian too, please. I don't mind witch couple is the main one, but I'd love to read fics with this two couples. Happy Endings please! Thank you!! 😊 (If you can find fics that happens when JC and Wangxian were teenagers it'd be awesome!)

Even the Sunlight Pierces to the Bone by OrdinaryRealities (T, 16k, JC/LXC, 2nd in series, post-canon, 5+1, cooking as a form of friendship, relationship based on friendship, working through trauma together, good uncle JC, communication, listening, JGY was a friend and a villain)

smells like teen spirit by TheWanderingHeart (G, 6k, JC/LXC, JC & WWX, ABO, cloud recesses study era, fluff & humor, courtship, omega JC, alpha LXC, puberty, scents & smells)

Utterly Inevitable by sami (M, 20k, XiCheng, WangXian, Family, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, References to Canonical Character Death, Recovery, Character Study, Established Relationship, Getting Together, Marriage, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, Post-Canon)

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) If you don’t mind poly I rec this one.

~*~

12. hello lovely mods, does anyone know if this has this been done for wangxian as a crossover? bc idk about y'all but this screams wangxian vibes to me. just imagine! lwj as the cleric and wwx as the disguised mxy on the run bc of fear of rejection just does it for me lol (bonus points if lwj actually was the cleric who did the reviving but wwx doesn't know that) @xiaokuer-schmetterling

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13. HI Mods! Do you happen to know of any story where at some point, JC gets all pissed at JGY bc he's trying to turn Yunmeng Jiang into Yunmeng "Meng"?

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14. Hello! for ITMF, are there any fics where wwx dies before/during the sunshot campaign? thank you in advance!

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, Dogs, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels) He dies when the Wens attack Lotus Pier

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15. Hello there!I am in the mood for angsty fic like:

Novel canon, post whip punishment, injured LWJ is able to meet WWX prior the first siege, yet the siege still happen and LWJ witness WWX’s death as in novel version. (NOT falling from a cliff as in CQL)

I am relying on you! Thank you in advance! @yellowridge

~*~

16. Hi. I'm not sure if you're still taking these but I'm in a mood for wangxian fic where wwx is madly in love with lwj but thinks his love is unrequited as lwj always looks conflicted when he has to interact with wwx. What he doesn't know is that lwj is equally in love with him if not more and is just a dork who's bad at emotions.

All at Once It's You by tiptoe39 (E, 28k, wangxian, accidental bonding, love curse, no plot happens au, wens are not evil, gusu lan summer school, internalized homophobia)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others background NieLan, background WQ/MM, inter-faculty romance, Strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers) 

Fervid as a Flame by snowkatze (T, 5k, wangxian, modern, getting together, first kiss, pining, insecurity, misunderstandings, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending)

Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, modern, medical residents au, childhood friends, pining, oblivious WWX, sexual content) (link in #4)

Straight at the Sun by diamondbruise (E, 33k, WangXian, Canon Universe, no war though, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Misunderstandings, First Time, Anal Sex, wwx desperately wants lwj’s attention, lwj desperately wants to marry wwx, Miscommunication, Jealousy, in abundance, Happy Ending) kinda

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17. Hi! Thank you so much for this blog and all your hard work! For your next iitmf, do you know any fics where JC deals with drug taking/addiction/getting clean? I don't mind where the fic is set, just no JC bashing! Thank you!

the long way back home by Misila (E, 210k, WIP, WangXian Yunmeng Siblings, Family, Romance, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, JC-centric, Dysfunctional Family, Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Themes, Recovery, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note) i think it is implied in this one, my memory is kinda bad though😅

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[flautistsandpeonies]

To Respect a Scholar

Read my Prompt [Here]

You can also read this on my Wordpress.

Tags: Wei WuXian Canon Genius, WangXian, not for JC fans, JC Canon Characteristics, JC’s Canon Homophobia, Author!WWX

Word Length: 5,648

Time to Read: 30 Minutes

Wei Wuxian was dead.

There were many emotions that Lan Qiren was feeling at that statement. Relief was the most prominent one,as the greatest threat their way of life was gone. Dread was a lesser feeling, at the thought of the discussion conferences to come, what claims people would make to what remained of the Yiling Patriarch and his inventions, but that could not be helped.

However.

He never expected to feel angry.

It had been another long day of teaching. This year’s batch of students were lacking in many areas of cultivation and he was considering writing to their sect leaders and families about ousting the current mentors they had available and choosing persons better suited to the job.

Some of them couldn’t even name their founder’s for goodness sake!

It was nearly curfew and Lan Qiren had long settled into his home, having fixed himself a pot of black tea to calm his nerves and relaxed into his common room with a few scrolls and books at his side.

The first book was a work of fiction, the image of a person with their back to the cover dressed in white and silver robes, a tall, elegant guan in their hair, and their spiritual sword- a shining silver blade with a seafoam green sheath embellished with tiny birds and tree branches stood atop a mountain peak overlooking a small, worn-down village. On the character’s shoulder was an owl, a black, demonic thing with wisps of evil flowing from its tail feathers.

It was titled: The Lost Pearl of Niu Village by Wei Wuxian

It was a tale of an older brother searching for his stepsister. Having been accused of being a sorceress at the age of seventeen, the young girl, Feng Yun, ran away from home in fear of execution. The protagonist, Gao Han, was already training to become a cultivator at the time and tried to vouch for his sister’s innocence, but went unheard. Years later, when his training is finished, he takes on the life of a rogue in order to find his long lost sister.

At first, he was a little more than apprehensive at reading anything that that boy had written, having long heard of his tales of debauchery and his many vices. However, he stilled himself, taking a deep breath to remind himself that he had dealt with Wei Wuxian at his most rowdiness and could handle anything the adult version threw at him.

He treated the book as he would any other, taking in its plot and themes, doing his best to understand what metaphors the author had made towards certain moments. He even found his lips upturning at the growth the characters within the story underwent. He was so interested that he barely remembered the pot of tea waiting to be consumed beside him. However, as he continued on through the chapters he also couldn’t help but become angrier and angrier.

‘What a waste!, ‘he found himself thinking, ‘What a waste of a great mind!’

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that Wei Wuxian was intelligent; the boy was just as knowledgeable as his youngest nephew- ‘perhaps even more so’ part of his mind whispered to him as the piles of cultivation manuals found inside Wei Wuxian’s den surfaced in his mind.

Shaking his head, Lan Qiren continued on with the tale, getting more intrigued with the story and even more angrier at the person who had wrote it.

“Truly a waste, “Lan Qiren grumbled as he lit another candle as the first one flickered out

If anyone was to ask why a candle was burning in his home all night, Lan Qiren would ask them why they were out after curfew.

--

It had been a year since Wei WuXian died.

And Lan Qiren was annoyed.

It had taken many months, but the elders of the Jin Sect were finally able to get through some of the locking arrays Wei WuXian had put on all of his manuals. The most prominent of the few were the schematics to the Stygian Lure Flag and the Demon Wind Compass. With them, the Jin Sect quickly gathered their most talented weavers and metal workers to create and put the items up for sale for the entire cultivation and civilian worlds.

Lan Qiren was one of the first to receive a compass, and as he eyed the intricate detailing and sigils carved into the sidings and needles, he became angry at Wei WuXian once more.

‘What a waste of a great mind!,’he thought

But that wasn’t the reason he was annoyed.

“But if you really think about it, the Demon Wind Compass isn’t all that useful, is it? I mean, it only gives you a rough estimation of where the creatures are, and it doesn’t tell you how strong it is either, so you really don’t know what you’re up against.”

The time for the guest disciples to leave the Cloud Recesses had come, and their parents had come to get them. For days now, Lan Qiren had had to sit through multiple meetings with sect leaders giving them his personal reports on what their children needed to do in order to excel in their learning.

It was midday now, and most of the Cloud Recesses had settled into the dining hall for lunch, guests included. Many still awaited in line, having their chance to chat before they had to abide by the rule of “No talking while dining”.

Standing near the entrance were a couple of AnpingRong disciples, talking about the newest cultivation tool.

Lan Qiren felt a tick forming on his forehead as the young man continued to flippantly talk down about the device that he had personally seen save civilian lives  from certain doom and alert cultivators to danger in their midst.

Lan Qiren couldn’t help but speak.

“It is well known that notes for a second version of the Demon Wind Compass was underway long before the Siege on the Burial Mounds. If one wants a more accurate compass, then one should read the Yiling Laozu’s notes and attempt to create it yourself.”

The two Rong disciples flinched and snapped their heads in his direction. At the sight of his unimpressed eyes, the young disciples shivered and immediately took back what he said.

“Ah-ah, Lan-Laoshi, this one has spoken too much it seems. I apologize for this one’s arrogance. Wei WuXian was truly thoughtful to leave such an invention behind.”

With a bow, the two disciples hurried along to the food line while Lan Qiren stood in the doorway watching their every move.

--

Despite fears that the Yiling Patriarch would return, Wei Wuxian was still dead.

And Lan Qiren was agitated.

While the Lan Sect hadn’t sent as half as many disciples as the Jiang and a quarter of the Jin, to the Siege of the Burial Mounds they still sent enough to be recognized for their efforts. When the Jin claimed all of Wei Wuxian’s texts on Diabolism and Jiang Wanyin took Chenqing, the Lan and Nie were given the chance to take what they were owed.

Being a clan known for their predilections towards literature and music, the Lan of course secured as many music, fiction, and poetry books as they could.

They’d taken the texts and built a side room on the pavilion dedicated to them, shelving them on dark blue shelves and putting cleaning and banishment talismans all around the room along with the typical fire-resistant talismans of the rebuilt library.

But that wasn’t why he was agitated.

“What in the world is this chicken scratch?! You’d think the Yiling Patriarch could at least write; I mean my four year old cousin can write better than this.”

Two Lan disciples-two juniors no less- sat in the middle of the Diabolism Archive, sets of books in between them. One, a peachy eyed young man looked at their friend with wide eyes as the other scowled down at the books on hand.

Lan Qiren himself was visiting the library to head to this exact archive. He was looking for the second volume of The Good Lord’s Concubine, another one of Wei Wuxian’s fiction novels.

“Ugh, this is useless, i can barely even read it, “the Lan junior threw the book to the ground in a fit of frustration

Lan Qiren had little patience for the visiting disciples of the sect not taking proper care of the texts within the library pavilion, so one can imagine how he felt about this.

“It is a known strategy, “the two juniors stood so quickly that you’d thought they’d been stuck with pins, “for a writer to get down information as quickly as possible, no matter how the writing looks, as to not lose any thoughts. They will later rewrite those words into more elegant texts, “Lan Qiren stood in the doorway like a judge, jury, and executioner

“Lan-Laoshi, “the two shivered uncontrollably

“We have multiple of Wei Wuxian’s texts that show that his calligraphy is near perfect. The Yiling Patriarch was working on multiple inventions by himself and would have had even less time to rewrite his works, “Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed, “As he is dead, you can understand that these are the only versions we will ever have of his work…unless you wish to rewrite it yourself?”

One of the boys started to shake their head rapidly, “No, no senior. We…we ourselves are only beginning to understand talismans. To try and rewrite Yiling Laozu’s work and be able to put it into an understandable form is….”

He didn’t have to finish.

Lan Qiren huffed, “For almost damaging intellectual property you will copy “Etiquette” fifteen times, am I clear?”

The boys let out a “Yes, Lan-Laoshi” while nodding their head solemnly.

Not sparing the boys another glace, Lan Qiren walked to the shelf containing the second volume of his current fancy.

...

Wei Wuxian was alive.

And Lan Qiren…..didn’t know how to feel about that.

He knew he still didn’t like Wei Wuxian. Didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to hear him, didn’t want anyone else in the Cloud Recesses to have to deal with him.

“Do not go near Wei Ying.” He’d carved the rule into the stone just days after Wangji returned from eloping with his husband

But at the same time….

Wei Wuxian was barely seen around the Cloud Recesses; he could still be heard at some points however. He spent a lot of time in the Library Pavilion, as he learned from a couple of passing seniors, time to the point where his life was split into three activities: 1. Corrupting the youth who were ignoring the rules, 2. Further corrupting his youngest nephew, and 3. Doing heaven knows what inside the Library Pavilion.

A few of the elders had came to him with concerns about the matter.

“What if he’s inside the Room of Forbidden Books?, “Elder Lan Jiao-long groused to him while pulling at their sleeves, a nervous tick of theirs

“We should tighten security, who knows what he could be thinking up?, “Lan Fai urged him

Lan Qiren tugged at his beard, “I will see to him; be at ease.”

At that, the two smiled and said no more, knowing that he had little tolerance for the Yiling Patriarch as it was, and bowed before continuing on with their day.

He had a bit of time before his next class, so he hurried along the paths towards the library pavilion, certain that Wei Wuxian would be there.

By the time he got there, most of the disciples had long cleared out, more than likely going to prepare for their next class. He eyed with displeasure some of the books and scrolls which had been left thrown any which way on the tables, and made a mental note to talk to the class about their behavior. Righting the texts, he continued on through the building looking for the only set of black and red robes in the entire Cloud Recesses.

Despite its large size, even the Library Pavilion had a limit to how large they could actually build it, and at the back of the building sat his in-law.

Wei Wuxian was sitting alone- Lan Wangji had taken a quest to Guangling and left his husband, who had finished a nighthunt with the juniors the night before, to rest. Stacks of blank parchment sat to his side along with a pot of ink. On another table sat finished papers laying out to dry.

“Wei Wuxian, “Lan Qiren walked up to the man with narrowed eyes

Wei Wuxian looked up and gave him a smile, “Lan-laoshi, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lan Qiren frowned, “What are you doing?”

“Writing,”Wei Wuxian waved his hand, “Just had a fancy for a bit of fiction is all.”

Walking over to the other table, Lan Qiren ignored the diabolist’s side eye and picked up one of the parchments.

He read:

--

“I don’t care! I don’t care! Just let it all burn!”

Zhou Su’s scream was consumed by the flames raging all around them. Dropping down to the floor, Gao Han ripped his sleeve clean off and snatched his canteen out of his satchel. Again, ripping the sleeve in two, he doused them with what water he had left and crawled on his belly toward Zhou Su.

The young maiden was curled in the corner, shaking as the shelves around them were engulfed in blue fire. Getting up close to her, Gao Han ran his hand through her white hair causing her to whimper.

“We have to leave,, “Gao Han said, trying to sound as level headed as possible

Zhou Su shook her head from in between her thighs.

“Go, “she muttered, “Just go.”

The young woman pushed at Gao Han, “Leave me!”

‘Not a chance!, “Gao thought, flinching when another shelf fell down behind them

Wrapping his wet sleeve around his mouth, Gao Han swiftly threw his arms under Zhou Su and picked her up. The woman startled.

“What are you-, “Zhou Su gasped in alarm, “Put me down!”

With all her might, Zhou Su struck at Gao Han’s back as the young man hurried to the stairs of the cellar. Her trailing red robes were singed by the the ever looming fire.

“Let me go! Let me die! I don’t want to live anymore!, “Zhou Su shrieked as they neared the top of the stairs

“Stop it, “Gao Han ordered, throwing Zhou Su over his left shoulder to fiddle with the door’s lock

“No, let go!, “Zhou Su shook with whatever strength she had left, forcing Gao Han to drop her on the stairs

“Zhou Su!, “the young rogue got down on his knees to pick her up again

“No!, “the maiden crawled backwards on her hands, “Stay away!”

Hurriedly following after her, Gao Han tried to wrestle Zhou Su back into his hold while the young maiden tried to throw herself back down towards the fire. The flames themselves were not far behind them, the blue inferno had reached the stairwell and smoke was slowly filling the hall.

“Zhou Su, “Gao Han coughed, “Please, stop. Come here.”

Zhou Su swatted at him, “No. No! Get out! Go away; let me be!”

She kicked him in the face and irritation filled the young man’s eyes. Throwing himself at her once more, Gao Han tried to force her hands behind her back.

Gao Han snarled a beastly sound, “Stop it! Stop fighting me, Feng Yun!”

--

“This is The Lost Pearl of Niu Village, “Lan Qiren set the sheet down on the table and turned back to his in-law

Wei Wuxian blinked, “You’ve…read it before?”

“I read the first installment, “Lan Qiren replied with pursed lips, “You never finished it.”

Wei Wuxian huffed and looked back to his writing, “Yes, I was a bit preoccupied in the afterlife and couldn’t find time to finish it.”

“You are writing more of it?, “Lan Qiren walked and sat down on the other side of the man

“Yes, “Wei Wuxian blinked again, “Sizhui loves this story. I made it for him you know, and I wanted to finish it for his birthday as a surprise.”

Lan Qiren looked down at what Wei Wuxian was currently writing before looking back up, “Is this all your doing?”

“Hmm?, “the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation quirked a brow at him

“Do you only come to the library to write fiction?, “Lan Qiren already knew the answer but wanted to hear it out of the man’s own lips

“Of course not, “Wei Wuxian smirked, “You can’t really expect me to never do any research again, do you?”

“Stay away from the Room of Forbidden Books., “Lan Qiren immediately ordered

“Okay, “the man hmmed, twirling his brush in his hand

Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed at him once more, suspicious at the easy acquiesce. Wei Wuxian met the man’s eyes head on, and his smirk widened.

“I promise I won’t go into the Room of Forbidden Books, Lan-Laoshi, “Wei Wuxian spoke, amusement coloring his voice

That just meant that he would probably ask Lan Wangji to go into it for him, the Lan elder immediately realized, and there wasn’t anything Lan Qiren could do considering that banning a blood member of the clan from entering parts of the pavilion was nigh impossible due to the function of their tokens.

Lan Qiren felt a tick wanting to form on his forehead and sighed deeply.

“Let me ask you something, Wei Wuxian, “he spoke again

“Hmmm?, “Wei WuXian set down his brush

“It’s about the first installment of your book, “Lan Qiren laid his hands atop one another in his lap

“Yes?, “Wei Wuxian rested his head in his hand

“It’s about Huang Ling, “Lan Qiren stated, “I wanted to ask if you intentionally wrote him to be as spoiled as he was, and what his parents had to be like to raise such a discourteous young master!”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes widened at the Lan elder before he let out a loud laugh and threw his head back, to Lan Qiren’s irritation.

Wei xnickered a bit more, “Well, Lan-Laoshi, do you really want me to spoil the story for you?���

Lan Qiren let out a huff, “If learning a small part of a story ruins the entire thing for me then the story wasn’t worth my time in the first place.”

Wei Wuxian shook his head, silver eyes shining with what could only be glee, “Very well then. You see Huang Ling….”

--

Wei Wuxian had been back for three years now.

And Lan Qiren was annoyed.

Not at Wei Wuxian, if one could imagine that, but at Sect Leader Yao.

“Wei Wuxian is a depraved fiend. Everywhere he goes he has to prove how shameless he is! How could he write such dribble?, “the man spat to Sect Leader Qin

The “dribble” the man was referring to was one of Wei Wuxian’s newest fiction novels. It was a romance between a young female disciple and the heir of another sect. The young girl was once a street orphan who’d been picked up by a benevolent sect leader and allowed to cultivate. Through hard work, she became well known for her achievements. The sect heir himself was exceptional and was praised for his work all around the Jianghu. The conflict of the novel was the fact the young sect heir’s family and friends didn’t like his relationship with a former street rat and attempt to have the young woman assassinated, implicating the sect heir in the process.

It was titled: In the Valley of the Plum Blossoms and was Lan Qiren’s next read.

Today was the first day of this year’s GusuLan Discussion Conference, and Wei Wuxian himself was not present. Instead, he and Lan Wangji had decided to take a trip to Qishan along with Lan Sizhui and Wen Qionglin. Lan Qiren himself had been pleased at the idea, because that meant that the man would not be there to cause dissent within the cultivation world.

But it seemed dissent would start whether he was there or not.

“What does that heretic know of love? It’s common knowledge that he’s used his demonic wiles to seduce Hanguang-jun; it’s an embarrassment to GusuLan that he thinks he can get away with this!, “Sect Leader Yao continued

“It has been added to the fiction section of the pavilion actually, “Lan Qiren said as he strode across the room

Lan Qiren rarely dealt with Sect Leader Yao, barely felt the need to. The man was usually quite crafty with his words and knew who and what to talk about most of the time to get reactions and support out of people. Most of the time, Lan Qiren didn’t let the man get to him.

Today was not that day.

“Lan-Laoshi?, “the sect leader was incredulous

“As Yao-Zongzhu knows, GusuLan collects many forms of literature and other texts. To have another one of Wei Wuxian’s works as part of our collection is no embarrassment to us at all, “he said swiftly and concisely

“Ah, “Sect Leader Yao blinked, “I see.”

“If it pleases Yao-Zongzhu further, I have personally read many of Wei Wuxian’s works of fiction. They are not filled with debauchery as one might think. Many of them are tales of righteousness and romantic stories, which is a principal of the Lans, “Lan Qiren continued

A sweat formed on the sect leader’s brow, “Is that so? That surely is an interesting development, Lan-Laoshi.”

It was interesting to everyone but the Lan Clan, who knew that Lan Qiren would read everything under the sun as long as it was not obscene material or the waste of parchments known as spring books.

“I read many things Yao-Zongzhu would not believe, Wei Wuxian’s works among them., “he slaps his hand with his ruler

One more look from Lan Qiren sends the Yao Sect Leader into a full on cold sweat. Eager to get out of the situation, the man quickly apologizes before engaging the Lan elder in a talk about next years classes.

“Tell me, Lan-Laoshi. What beginner’s talismans will you teach next year?”

--

It had been five years since Wei Wuxian came back.

And Lan Qiren was agitated.

Not at Wei Wuxian, somehow, and not at Sect Leader Yao either. Probably because the man wasn’t there.

“It amazes me how shameless you can be, Wei Wuxian. Spending other people’s money without a care in the world.”

Lan Qiren could count on his hands the number of times Sect Leader Jiang had visited the Cloud Recesses. The man had made it clear on his third visit, two years before the Siege of the Burial Mounds, that he would much rather wait weeks for correspondences than have to deal with their “onerous” rules.

“Look at all this trash! Does the Lan Sect really allow you to waste your money on- what is that- loquat seeds?”

Today was a special occasion, not because of Jiang Wanyin’s visit mind you, but because tomorrow was Wei Wuxian’s birthday. Everyone in the Cloud Recesses was surprised to learn that the Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation had never celebrated his birthday before, and Lan Wangji had decided that that could not stand and went behind his husband’s back to plan a celebration with Lan Xichen’s support. Lan Qiren assumed that Wei Wuxian was a bit in know, as disciples who would not be in the Cloud Recesses on the day of the event had started giving the man gifts a week in advance.

That was the “trash” Jiang Wanyin was referring to. The loquat seeds themselves were a gift from Lan Jingyi, who was going to Baling for a joint hunt with Ouyang Zizhen and Jin Rulan to search for a deer yao so they could bring its beast core back as a gift for the diabolist’s research.

“It must bring the Lan elders great shame to know that not only is one of their heirs a cutsleeve, but his husband is a spendthrift to boot! Lan Wangji’s ancestors must be looking down on him in humiliation, “he laughed then

Lan Qiren didn’t even know why the man was here. Was it because he knew Wei Wuxian’s birthday was tomorrow and wanted to create strife? Did he know that Jin Zongzhu and Nie Zongzhu were going to attend and thought his presence important?

At the insult to his husband, Wei Wuxian’s eye’s narrowed, “Watch your tongue, Jiang Cheng! Say what you want about me, but don’t you dare insult my Lan Zhan.”

If there was one thing Lan Qiren would never admit, is that he was proud of how protective Wei Wuxian was of his nephew.

“Watch his tongue? How dare you tell Jiang Zongzhu what to do?!, “another voice interjected

Lan Qiren set his eyes on the other man. It was Sect Leader Jiang’s head disciple and right hand, Du Lim. He was a pretty average cultivator, followed Jiang Wanyin’s teachings and orders to a t. Lan Qiren had personally taught the man once and thought that he didn’t really have a mind of his own, never really quite thinking and always following.

But perhaps that was what Sect Leader Jiang wanted.

Wei Wuxian spared the head disciple a quick glance and nothing more, “Jiang Zongzhu has come into my home and insulted my husband. If he cannot even give the barest amounts of respect towards the owners of the home, perhaps he shouldn’t have come.”

Jiang Wanyin had snarled then, “You! How dare you? Know your place, Wei Wuxian!”

Sandu Shengshou had reached out towards Wei Wuxian then, his other hand going for his sword.

Despite knowing the man didn’t need his protection, Lan Qiren found himself standing in front of Wei Wuxian.

Jiang Wanyin’s fingers were inches from his face.

“Jiang Zongzhu, "Lan Qiren said staring the man down

Unable to hurt another sect’s elder, Jiang Wanyin quickly snatched his hand back.

Lan-Laoshi, “the man glared at the cultivator behind him

“Is there a problem?, “Lan Qiren raised an eyebrow

Jiang Wanyin scoffed then, “Problem? Just that Wei Wuxian never seems to know his place. He has no respect for those in power!”

“His place?, “Lan Qiren’s voice gave away nothing

At that, Jiang Wanyin’s gaze shifted towards Wei Wuxian once more. The man was looking back at him with no emotion what so ever, like he was a fly trying to annoy him.

“Isn’t his behavior against your rules?, “Sect Leader Jiang looked back at Lan Qiren, “Shouldn’t he be punished?”

“Punished?, “Lan Qiren paused letting the silence reign over them for a moment, “No, not at all.”

Jiang Wanyin clenched his fist around his sword, “And why is that?!”

“It seems Jiang Zongzhu had not noticed, but I have been here the entire time, “Lan Qiren starts, “I have heard everything.”

Before the man could open his mouth, Lan Qiren continues, “Wei Wuxian has not bought these items, they are gifts from his students and members of the clan. His family gives him these with all the love and respect they can offer.”

Jiang Wanyin’s face started to turn a dark shade of red. Behind him, Wei Wuxian looked ready to interject, but Lan Qiren started to speak again.

“Further more, know his place? Wei Wuxian fully knows his place as the spouse to the sect’s heir, “Lan Qiren’s eyes narrowed, “Heaven’s forbid anything happen to Xichen, but if anything does-as he does not have an heir yet- Lan Wangji would become the sect leader and Wei Wuxian would help him lead it.”

Lan Qiren threw an arm behind his back, “I find it appalling that Jiang Zongzhu would come into our home and attempt to attack the heir apparent’s spouse. Such an action is a declaration of war!”

Jiang Wanyin finally shouted out, “Don’t tell me you’d actually declare war for him? For Wei Wuxian?”

“As long as he is married to my nephew, Wei Wuxian is a member of the Lan Clan. We are always willing to go to war for our family, “Lan Qiren’s voice was final, “Now, I suggest Jiang Zongzhu and Young Master Du go to their designated guest rooms and await for someone to be able to receive them. Do that, and perhaps I won’t inform Lan Xichen of what has transpired.”

Eyes alighting in what could only be abject rage, Jiang Wanyin looked to be ready to throw another tongue lashing at his former head disciple. However, when he looked at the man, Wei Wuxian simply laid his hand on his Chenqing and the words died in Jiang Wanyin throat.

Jiang Wanyin couldn’t tell if Lan Qiren was bluffing about going to war or not. But at the off chance that he wasn’t, Jiang Wanyin wasn’t dumb enough to chance it and end up having to fight an army of the undead along with the entire Lan sect and their subsidary sects.

With one last severe look at the Yiling Laozu, Jiang Wanyin muttered a quick, “Fine” before yelling at his head disciple to follow him back to their rooms.

As Jiang Wanyin and Du Lim stormed off, Lan Qiren turned back to look at his in-law.

“The disciples should have known better than to weigh you down with so much as once, “he said tersely

Without letting Wei Wuxian reply, Lan Qiren picked up a box with what he was sure was stuffed with fans, and books, and jewelry.

Wei Wuxian blinked at him in surprise, “Lan-Laoshi?”

“I’m sure you have better things to be doing than standing around here dealing with this nonsense, “Lan Qiren replies before turning around

With that, Lan Qiren started in the direction of the Jingshi. Wei Wuxian had no choice but to follow after him.

--

It had been ten years since Wei Wuxian married into their family.

And right now Lan Qiren was facing a headache.

“There, there, a-die is here, “Wei Wuxian cooed

“Waaaahhhh!”

Infants were a blessing, but they were also very very very loud. This little, loud blessing was named Lan Jing. His grandniece.

“Oh, little one, it’s alright, “Wei Wuxian stood, turning in slow circles as he rubbed at the girl’s back, “Baba will be back soon to make it all better.”

Lan Jing had become part of their family five months ago. In a trip to Yiling to check up on the cenotaph to the Wen remnants, Wei Wuxian and Wen Qionglin had come across and newborn abandoned on the edge of the cursed mountain. Wei Wuxian took her as his own merely seconds after his eyes landed on her.

As soon as they two returned with the infant, Lan Wangji too accepted her and the two parents spent the week with the healers getting a check up for their new daughter. Unfortunately, because she was left out in the elements for so long, little a-Jing’s body was weaker than most, and so she was prone to sickness.

The child sniffled in her father’s arms, “Waaahhh!”

“I know, I know, “Wei Wuxian smiled as she snuffled closer into his chest, “Baba will be back with your medicine soon.”

As Wei Wuxian landed a kiss on the top of the child’s head, Lan Qiren contemplated why he was even there. He was passing by when he spotted Lan Wangji bolting from his home in the direction of the healing pavilion, and simply walked inside without wondering what was going on.

“Bofu, “Lan Sizhui’s voice brought him out of his contemplations. “Here.”

The young man set a cup of black tea in front of him. It was inside one of Wei Wuxian’s newest inventions, a cup that would hold tea to the proper temperature without burning one’s hand.

He hated to admit it was his favorite invention.

Seeing his grand-uncle take a sip of tea and hum in content, Lan Sizhui turned to his father.

“a-die, I can take her until baba gets back. You should get back to your writing, “Lan Sizhui stood and walked with his arms open, ready to receive his little sister

“Hmm, are you sure Sizhui? She bites!, “Wei Wuxian grinned while adjusting the five month old in his arms

“It cannot be that bad, “Sizhui grinned and effortlessly took the young girl from his father

“Mhmm, you’re right about that, nothing can be as bad as a-Yuan’s bites, “Wei Wuxian’s grin widened, “I remember when you first started teething you bit me so hard on the chest Wen Qing thought I’d been attacked by a snake!”

A bright blush covered Lan Sizhui’s face, “Ah, I’m sorry!”

Wei Wuxian laughed and placed a hand on top of the young man’s shoulder, “I was okay, just surprised!”

Giving the young man a quick pat, Wei Wuxian went to sit back at his desk while Lan Sizhui sat the table with his sister, her little cries slightly muffled by his robes.

“There, there, a-Jing, “Lan Sizhui used the same tone as his a-die, “Baba will bring a remedy for your sniffles soon enough.”

Looking at the two sibling a little while Longer, Lan Qiren’s eyes soon shifted to their father in the corner. From what he could see when he walked in the room, Wei Wuxian was working on two things at once. One was a set of children’s books that was going to be placed in the newly constructed nursery in the Jingshi. The other was a book about a young village boy who comes to find he has the power of ice manipulation.

He couldn’t wait to read it.

Suddenly, the front door to the Jingshi slammed open and Lan WangJi emerged with a medicine jar in his hands.

Lan WangJi eyed his uncle in surprise, “Shufu?”

Lan Qiren grumbled, waviing his hand towards Sizhui and a-Jing, “Wangji, quickly, come give her the remedy!”

---

Hope you all enjoyed!

Read my Other Prompts and WIPs [Here]

[from-the-notebooks]

From the initial propaganda of their enemies to the depictions in modern games such as Assassin’s Creed, the group that would come to be called the Assassins have gotten a singular depiction as cultish murders. They were in actuality members of a militant Ismaili (popular subset of Shia) sect founded as a revolution against Sunni Seljuk rule of Persia (and later spread into Syria). They used tactics of deception, assassination, popular support, and strategic operations out of formidable castles to fight on all fronts. Seljuks and later Mongols threatened from the East. Fatimids, Abbasids, and Crusaders encroached from the West. They were a notable if never dominant force in the region until the Mongols eventually struck them hard enough to drive them out and massacre their followers.  While the Nizari Ismaili did use Fida’i, self-sacrificing fighters, for assassinations often, it has been played up in how they are remembered, due to enemy propaganda and the early orientalism of the crusaders. Assassination was a common tactic before and after their rise and fall. The idea that their leaders controlled them through Hashish or that they were hashish smokers was a European misunderstanding of a Fatimid insult against the Nizari. They didn’t call themselves Assassins or Hashashins but the Da’wa, meaning the “way”. They were a theologically complex group with an interesting history of revolutionary egalitarianism so it's a shame they are remembered only for exaggerations and lies.  Sources: Daftary F. The Alamut Period in Nizari Ismaili History. In: A Short History of the Ismailis: Traditions of a Muslim Community. Edinburgh University Press; 2020:120-158.  Acosta, Benjamin (2012). "Assassins". In Stanton, Andrea L.; Ramsamy, Edward (eds.). Cultural Sociology of the Middle East, Asia, and Africa: An Encyclopedia. Sage. p. 21 

Advice for other people making 24xx games?

I'm always excited to meet more 24xx fans! It's a very simple system to work with and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I do.

Don't worry if your first game is essentially a reskin of the SRD. My first 24xx game, 25th Century Vampires, was very much this! I was dipping my toes into the system and made something very simple and self-indulgent (vampires fighting demons? Heck yes!)

The more familiarity you gain with the system, the more comfortable you'll get adding and removing pieces. In 84xx BC I added approaches (which grant bonuses to rolls based on whether or not you are using your favored approach.) In Super Unnatural, I replaced the polyhedral dice with a d6 system, and there are only 3 skills instead of the usual 10+.

I'd also highly recommend joining this 24xx Discord! It's a great place to promote your own work, discover others, and share advice. I've shared most of my games there and everyone is very lovely and supportive. There's also a lot of discussion of modifying the system more generally- recently someone was running 18xx Muramasa heavily modified and I got to hear some super cool insight!