#its very parental mora day )

[tidesfate]

Yknow what, Watchling / Watcher headcanons:

They are born from the shed eyes of Hermaeus Mora, and each inherit a specific facet of its personality- regardless of how large or small that aspect is. It does mean some of the more niche parts of Mora exist a lot less frequently.

Watchlings do not become Watchers- they are two different creatures. At "birth" they seem the same with no clear distinction- Mora is able to tell- and this difference does not show until later. (Similar case to illithids vs ulitharid tadpoles as a comparison)

Much like Mora had to and continues to grow with the consumption of knowledge, they too require the consumption of knowledge and memories to grow.

Mora does give them their names, though they may pick alternate names as well.

This is partially a watchling/watcher hc and part a Mora one, but the different eye styles is because Mora too has different types of eyes (cause I've enjoyed seeing that concept so I'm taking creative liberties).

A good chunk of them seen in other Princes realms are ones Mora has 'gifted' or has told them to 'betray' it so it has eyes on the other realms.

There are ones that are actual original spirits like most daedra whom just adapt the form of the Mora-created watchers/lings, but Mora treats those ones more similarly to how it treats the other true daedra of its realm like lurkers or seekers; they are to do their jobs simply.

[wri0thesley]

cw: cunnilingus, not sfw, arranged marriage reader wearing a gown (no pronouns). based on this post from a few days ago. 3.1k

There's a pout on your pretty mouth that Wriothesley is utterly itching to kiss off. 

It’s an expression he’s grown rather used to on the face of his spouse; somebody as properly born and bred to society as you finds themselves a touch adrift when faced with Wriothesley’s own gruff manner, his inability to kowtow to the strictures that Fontainian society attempts to place on those who have ascended to its lofty heights. 

Unfortunately, when his availability had become common knowledge and eager parents had flocked to him in order to hawk their beloved children like so many lovely wares, he had found himself exceedingly drawn to you. To the stiff little way you held yourself and inclined your head, the way your voice had shook - the way that you hadn’t immediately tried to flutter your lashes and laugh at things that were not jokes. 

It had not hurt that your family, though fine of name and lineage, had fallen somewhat into financial difficulty. Some parents had withdrawn their offspring from the game of courtship when it had become clear that though Wriothesley now had the title of ‘Duke’, he was still at heart a former criminal, and not the genteel fawning aristocrat they had expected to find. 

(A title is not enough to take back over half a life spent in the fortress of Meropide, after all; not enough to scrub the memory of noses crunching beneath his fists, of what it feels like to end someone’s life even if it is for the greater good). 

Your family, though, had needed the boost; the Mora and the prestige. And so you had remained achingly polite and maddeningly prim and proper and so very obviously inexperienced that the sweetness of it all made the back of Wriothesley’s teeth ache. 

“Where are you taking me?” You ask him, in a soft whisper, as his hand fastens firmly but not bruisingly about your upper arm; as your husband maneuvers you away from the chatter of the ballroom. “You’ve barely greeted anyone--” 

He knows you are scandalised; that your parents have taught you to be the gracious party guest, to bow and chatter idly and wax poetic about crystal champagne glasses. But Wriothesley has spoken to Chief Justice Neuvillette (just as out of place and adrift here as Wriothesley himself), and he considers that his duty properly done. He has no desire to do the things that are expected of him. 

Not when that pout on your face - the way the light hits the glimmering petals of your lower lip - is begging to be kissed within an inch of its life, and the moonlight streaming through the windows is illuminating the curves of you in your pretty gown, and he knows that you will squirm and squeak and call him a dirty old man in that way he loves, your voice pitching with desire you’re still not sure about, the moment he has you alone at his mercy in one of the shadowed hallways of tonight’s party. 

“Just to get some air,” he says, giving a smile that’s all wolf-bared teeth to the closest gentleman who dares to give you both a briefly disapproving look. “Isn’t it just so horribly stuffy in there?”

Your nose wrinkles, between your brows creasing. Wriothesley thinks about kissing every place the flesh furrows on your face, covering you in them until you’re helpless to do anything but laugh. He always feels like a hero when he has managed a laugh out of you; you seem to give them so rarely, and it’s such a darling little bell of a noise. 

“It’s barely been ten minutes,” you settle on, the faintest hint of reproach in your voice. “It’s really not polite . . .”

What is not polite, he thinks, is the way that the run of his thoughts have turned to your dress, cut low enough to make people think indecent thoughts about you. There are no manners, either, to the fact he is thinking about the perfume he had watched you dab on this evening, and wondering how long he’d have to rut into you until the only thing that people could smell on you would be the musk of his ownership. 

“They’ll live,” Wriothesley says firmly, steering you out into the hallway. “You ought to know nobody here really wants my esteemed company.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice. Wriothesley does not want to be beloved of this particular roiling mass of humanity; the aristocracy, in his experience, is all artifice. He may spend his time with criminals, but at least the criminal underclasses are usually honest about what they want. They’ve been taught that ‘you do not get if you do not ask, do not try, do not work for it’ - these people, this gathering of society schmoozers . . . they get simply by being born. 

Of course, since he married you, there have been more invitations than before. 

Part of it is curiosity - what kind of spouse will the Duke of the Fortress take? One like him, who does not conform? Some of them want nothing more than to ogle at you and find out your secrets, poke you in your softest parts so they know if you will be a weakness that they can later exploit. Wriothesley finds these people distasteful - at least some of the invitations come from those who have already met you, who have been charmed by your pretty manners and sweet way of speaking, who are hoping that perhaps you will be some calming influence on your uncivilised brute of a husband. He still doesn’t like these invitations, of course (any event in which he is forced to put on a stiffly starched shirt and button it to his throat, to fuss with cravats and tailcoats when he’d rather stick to his own clothes, are not generally met with much pleasure for him), but at least you always seem thrilled to get them. 

It’s because of you he had accepted this one. When you had brought the invitation to him all bright-eyed and chirping, like a pretty magpie with a shiny coin, he had not been able to think of an excuse faced with you looking so utterly thrilled . . . and so he’d helped you choose a dress (he does so love you in black and red, and if he had chosen something cut low in the chest for reasons of his own, who is going to blame him when they see you?), and had travelled out of the Fortress in order to please you. 

He’d only lasted ten minutes, but perhaps after he’s pleased himself the two of you can go back out into the throes and he will have the memory of what you’ve just done to dwell on as he pretends to care about the difference between the fish fork and the dessert fork. 

“That’s just because you don’t let them see the real you,” you begin, but Wriothesley has seen what looks like a likely little hallway - secluded and dark, only one or two doorways leading off of it. He tugs at you, and though you offer a token resistance, you allow yourself after a moment to be pulled into the little alcove, and for your husband to cage you against a wall. Your breath catches, your lashes fluttering as your eyes flit to take in the breadth of him, the muscles, the way you are inescapably caught by him - and Wriothesley does not miss the desire that dances over your gaze. “Your Grace--”

“Mmm?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, lowering his face closer to yours so that he can see himself reflected in your eyes. His cock twitches at the way you bite your lip unconsciously, and he knows from the little gasp that you do not miss the sensation of it against you. “Am I doing something untoward again, sweetheart?”

He lets his voice roughen a touch on the word; the patois of the criminal flavouring it in a way that reminds you he is dangerous, and you pout so sweetly and let out the quietest little whine that he doesn’t know how he stops himself from having his way with you right then and there. There are many untoward things he would like to do to you; many untoward things he is planning on doing to you, right here, in public. 

“It’s indecent . . .” You gasp - but you still wrap your arms around his neck, and still pull him in to let him kiss you hot and hungry and fierce as a wolf. He cannot get enough of the way you taste beneath him; there is sugar that lingers on your lips even when he hasn’t seen you imbibe anything but a single glass of champagne when offered. He wants to devour you; to taste every part of you, until his mouth only remembers the lingering remnants of your own. 

You gasp, pressing your body - soft and impossibly pliable - against his wherever you can reach him, hard planes of muscle meeting the softer give of your flesh beneath your gown. 

“You seem to like it well enough,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to whisper it into the delicate shell of your ear, delighting in the way the words make you shiver. You try to school your face to sternness, but your own desire betrays you even as you try and pull your dignity around you like a cloak. 

“B-But, Your Grace, in public--”

“Mm . . . doesn’t the thrill of being caught make it seem all the sweeter?” He gives you a grin that shines like the sharks that sometimes float past the Fortress, serenely serrated. You squeak in a cross between dismay and longing as he sinks to the floor, and his big, scarred hands find the hem of your gown to begin pushing it up your ankles. 

The frills and fripperies of lace and ribbons look almost wicked, in those hands; fine, delicate concoctions of fabric and satin that were not made to be man-handled. You shiver at the thought of his grip ripping through them; of fine fabrics being rent asunder in his hands as you know he is capable of. 

“We shouldn’t--” You whisper, in that pitching whine of ‘don’t’ that is only a step away from ‘please don’t stop’.

His palms - he will not even grudgingly wear full gloves - feel cool, even through your stockings, as he slides them up your calf. His chuckle is a rough-spurred thing, and before you can say anything further he has disappeared beneath your skirts entirely, and you find yourself clinging to the moulding on the wall behind you to try and get some semblance of purchase. 

He tugs at one of the ribbons that keeps your stockings held up, and from the hot puff of air against your bare thigh, you know he has done so with his teeth. Your pulse flutters in your throat, your vision fair spotting with the mixture of feelings that Wriothesley’s actions are drawing forth from you - desire and shame and wanting and need and unsurety, all mixing together inside of you in a cocktail of arousal so potent you barely know how you stand it. 

A wet, open-mouthed kiss is pressed to the spot above your stocking, on your bare thigh. You feel the graze of his teeth against the soft skin, unseen by anyone aside from him. Unmarked by anyone aside from him (you have learnt that the Duke is very fond of using his teeth, during his bed-chamber escapades; you have learnt more at his mouth and his fingers and his mercy than you had ever thought that you would have cause to know). 

Wriothesley’s cock is so hard in his too-tight formal trousers that he can barely think of anything but the pulse between his thighs, but the moment he has his head beneath your skirts and he can scent your arousal on the air, all thoughts of tending to his own almost-painful erection instead turn to tasting you, smelling you, burying himself inside of you until you are a helpless mess. 

He knows that logically you taste, probably, of the oils and the powders and the lotions you use, on your skin and in your bath. Perhaps a touch of your own sweat - but to Wriothesley, the taste that lingers on the tip of his tongue as he takes his time kissing up your thigh, working towards the apex between them, is nothing short of ambrosial. He can hear his own breaths, hard and panting, but he has never been the kind of man who lets himself feel shamed for doing what he wants. 

“You’re dripping,” he grunts, and the muscles in your thighs jump, tensing, as if you’re cringing at what he has said - and though he cannot see you from his place beneath the skirts of your gown, he can gladly imagine the expression on your face. You’re darling. He wants to kiss you until you can’t breathe and fuck you until you can’t walk; but for now . . .

He settles by kissing over the softness of your mound, letting his hot breath once more fan out over that most intimate part of you. He hears you whine again from somewhere above him;

“Wriothesley, you’re being obscene . . .”

He lets his mouth fully envelope your cunt; lets his tongue lathe out across your folds, flickering against your clit in a way that makes you violently jerk. The moan that you let out is muffled - one of your own (gloved, as is right and proper in society) hands has flown up to your mouth. Though he will miss the sound of your enjoyment unencumbered, he supposes it is better for privacy if you at least make an attempt.

“So you want me to stop?” He growls, the taste of your slick lingering on his tongue, honey-thick and just as sweet. To drive in the point of what you would be missing, he lets himself give your clit - the swollen nub standing to attention, as if begging him for more - a kitten lick. 

“Don’t even think about it, you scoundrel,” you say, whisper-soft and gasping, and Wriothesley knows you cannot possibly fail to sense the curve of his lips against your cunt. 

“As you wish,” he says. “Never let it be said that I don’t take my duties as a Duke and a gentleman seriously.”

And he returns to his task with voracious excitement. 

He has done this to you before, but never in public - never with you standing, never with the threat of discovery looming over his head . . . he finds he does indeed quite enjoy the thrill, so he takes his sweet time exploring your folds with his tongue, letting himself be even wetter and messier than he’d normally be. 

The sound is indeed obscene, as he delves the tip of his tongue between your folds - as he finds your pulsing entrance and toys with it, slipping just a little of the flexible muscle inside of the channel until he feels you try and clamp down on it, before he returns to the wet circling of your fluttering hole. 

His nose presses directly into the softness of your mound, grinding against your clit with every slight adjustment of his head. Normally, you’d at least be able to tug on his hair as he did this (and he’s rather fond of that too - the way you do even that so neatly, so apologetically), but now you are entirely at his mercy and it is obvious from the tremble in your thigh, as if you are going to swoon to the floor at any moment. 

You shift to rest more against the wall and Wriothesley takes that as an excuse to manhandle you - he takes one of your thighs and slings it over his shoulder, unbalancing you but for a moment - but giving him far better access to the spot between your legs. 

Far easier, like this, for him to use thumb and forefinger to tease the lips of your labia apart and to settle his mouth around the pearl of your clit. 

You jerk in surprise again, more soft muffled whimpering coming from above. He can make out a few of the words - ‘scoundrel, rake, you filthy pervert, Wriothesley Your Grace please don’t stop--’

He is not a cruel husband, so he does not. 

Your clit, pulsing with need, is drawn into his mouth - and Wriothesley takes great pleasure in suckling upon it the way that one might a particularly delicious candy, his tongue lathing over and over and over. You squirm in his grip, and he imagines your face as it always is when you are close to the edge. You tremble and sweat and shake for him and Wriothesley needs you to fall apart like he needs air. 

He redoubles his efforts; his other hand clenches on your inner thigh, his forefinger finding the pulsing, clenching hole of your sex. As he sucks, he gently inserts just the tip of it inside of you, and oh, you are greedy for more than his mouth--

You come with a strangled cry that is not quite caught by your glove - a clamping of your thighs around Wriothesley’s ears, and a gush of wetness that Wriothesley is more than happy to let flow into his open mouth and down his chin, to stain the collar of his starched white shirt.

When your aftershocks are over - when you are trembling not so violently, and he trusts you to stand on your own two feet, he presses a kiss to your cunt before he returns your leg to the ground.

He disentangles himself from your skirts, his knees only aching a little - nothing, really, compared to the inescapable pulse of his cock where it’s longing to be pressed hot and deep inside of you. He does not bother wiping his mouth of your release - and when you see him, his face shiny and wet with the proof of your enjoyment, you huff in embarrassment and avoid his gaze. 

You’re the sweetest little thing, he thinks again fondly. Even though you had moments ago been rutting against his mouth like the most brazen and desperate creature in Teyvat . . . now, faced with the proof of what you’ve done, you’ve gone over all proper again. 

Deftly and firmly, he takes your chin in his hand and presses a kiss against your mouth, making sure your own taste lingers on the soft petals of your lips. He makes sure he takes full control of it; that it is a press of his ownership of you like his seal pressing into wax on the missives he writes down in the depths of the Fortress. If only you knew just how much of him you owned in turn. 

“I think,” he says, his voice thick, “I feel much improved. And you were right, sweetheart, about it being rude to leave a party so quickly. Should we return back to the ballroom?”

[sailorstar9]

My Stepsister Seduces My Husband, But What She Doesn’t Know Is That...

F/N and Zhongli had their wedding shortly after the Lantern Rite Festival.

Everyone thought F/N found a handsome man, not knowing the truth. They were all deceived by his chiselled face and body; F/N's step-sister was one of those deceived. Because no one, save for the Adepti in Liyue Harbor, knew that Zhongli was the Prime Adepti.

After the most recent 'Rite of Descension', he started to work at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour as its consultant.

A few days after the Lantern Rite Festival, F/N brought Zhongli home to visit her parents. They brought along three large boxes of gifts along with Gaming and a fellow guard from the Transport Agency. It was Zhongli first meeting with his wife's family.

The presence of Zhongli and the two Transport Agency guards scared F/N's biological father and stepmother.

The dinner table was set after Zhongli paid Gaming and his partner for their services.

F/N's step-sister, dressed to the nines, kept helping Zhongli to food, trying to impress him. “My sister is merely a junior tax agent working at the Ministry of Civil Affairs. And yet she found such a wonderful man like brother-in-law. I envy her; unlike me who works hard training under Director Yun every day, afraid to eat more just to maintain my figure. I might be able to perform alongside the Director some day and may not even find a partner as good as brother-in-law.” she sighed, showing off by pinching her slim waist.

F/N's step-sister, Zhen Yu, was brought by F/N's stepmother; their two families were from divorced and remarried families.

A few years ago, F/N's mother died from a rock slide while working at The Chasm. Shortly after that, F/N's father quickly got together with Zhen Yu's mother after a meeting with the marriage broker.

Ever since Zhen Yu entered the household, the two step-sisters never got along. Zhen Yu especially loved competing with F/N. When Y/N pulled her hair into a bun with a hair stick, Zhen Yu would also bun up her hair the next day with an extra hair stick. When F/N was thirteen, a boy from the neighbourhood gave her a love letter. Zhen Yu then intentionally wore a floral dress in front of him and claiming F/N was dirty and didn't bathe. Seeing the boy flee from embarrassment, Zhen Yu smirked to herself. Later, when F/N approached Yun Jin for an apprenticeship, Zhen Yu followed suit and applied. She cried pitifully, saying she didn't dare to ask for much. And if her real father was around, he would definitely be willing to send her.

The Yun-Han Opera Troupe apprenticeship fees were very high and the family could only afford to send one person.

F/N's father, feared being accused of favouritism by his new wife, sent Zhen Yu to Yun Jin.

F/N gritted her teeth and started working, using the Mora she saved from her salary to pay for her way through law school.

Later, when F/N brought a classmate home to introduce him as her boyfriend, Zhen Yu also stole him from F/N.

At this moment, when Zhongli heard Zhen Yu's words, he put down his chopsticks with a bang. He frowned slightly but didn't say anything, just overturning his bowl on the table. “My apologies.” he started. “I don't like anyone, except my wife, serving me food. I'm disgusted by the saliva.”

Zhen Yu was stunned, her face flashed with embarrassment. She looked at Zhongli plaintively, “I'm not a stranger.” she whined.

Zhongli did not say a word and just pointed his knee with a finger. “Move your feet under the table away from my legs.”

F/N peered under the table cloth, noticing Zhen Yu's foot was reaching under her chair to try and touch Zhongli's leg.

Zhen Yu was instantly dumbfounded; after all, this trick of hers always worked. It's not something a normal person would point out directly. Seeing everyone in the family glance at her, she was so embarrassed that she quickly explained, “Brother-in-law, have you all misunderstood something? If you don't like me serving food, it's okay. I know my sister is usually petty, but I really don't mean anything by it.”

F/N's step-mother immediately spoke up, “Mr. Zhongli, this is Zhen Yu's goodwill. She usually looks down on everyone, never being so gentle and caring. It's just a kind gesture. Did F/N say anything to cause you to misunderstand?”

F/N father also chimed in, “Our table is small. Bumps are inevitable. Don't think so much about it. Zhen Yu is just caring for her brother-in-law.”

As F/N watched her father's and step-mother's behaviour, she couldn't help but sneer. Zhen Yu had done this kind of thing not just once or twice; they had always turned a blind eye and they weren't any different now.

As soon as they finished speaking, Zhongli unbuttoned the top button of his suit with a somewhat amused smile. F/N was about to get angry at her father's words, but he patted her shoulder. Then, he manifested a sharp Geo shard from his palm. Letting the shard twirl above his palm, he said, “F/N has told me everything about the family. Let me make it clear to you all. F/N is my wife. If you still want to bully her in the future, don't blame me for being ruthless.” snarling at the three of them after he dispelled the Geo shard, he added, “Respecting you as F/N's parents, I won't speak any dirty words. If you don't want trouble, don't let your attention wander to my wife.”

F/N's father opened his mouth, his face red with rage, wanting to say something, but he knew he was helpless against a Vision user. Infuriated and trembling, he yelled, “How dare you... how could you find such ruffians?”

F/N simply cleared her throat and grabbed Zhongli's arm. “Ruffians? Dad, don't talk nonsense. Don't you know Zhongli is a renowned consultant at Wangsheng Funeral Parlour?”

Zhen Yu and F/N's step-mother's faces turned so ugly it could have dripped ink. They probably couldn't continue eating that meal.

Zhongli didn't say much as the conversation had ended. “it's getting late.” he started. “You should rest early. I'll take F/N home.” with that, he wrapped his arm around F/N's waist and walked away.

Turning back to her childhood home as she and Zhongli walked to the walk path, F/N saw Zhen Yu glaring furiously. F/N, it's not over between us. She swore. I must have your man. There's no cat in the world that doesn't steal fish. Just you wait and see.

“Looks like my step-sister has set her sights on you.” F/N turned to Zhongli.

F/N was surprised when her father paid her a visit at her workplace, bringing ham to apologize.

“Your mother's favourite was ham, you know.” F/N's father spoke, picking a piece of Minty Meat Roll at Wanmin Restaurant at lunchtime.”

“Alright.” F/N sighed, knowing her father's underlying intentions. “Here's the address.” she wrote down her current lodging address on a piece of paper.

“Let Zhen Yu bring them over to you.” F/N's father suggested. “She also wants to apologize to you.”

Using family ties to deceive me. F/N wondered after her father left the restaurant after paying for his share of the meal. Was it just a ploy to get Zhen Yu my address? It seemed like my sister hadn't given up; still determined to win Zhongli over.

Sure enough, that weekend, Zhen Yu showed up at F/N's door, knocking. She was dressed in a figure-hugging qipao and high heels.

Seeing F/N answer the door, she hesitated for moment, collecting her flirtatious look. “Your place is hard to find. My feet ache from all that walking.” she whined.

“Then, why don't you hire a transport agency?” F/N was not amused.

“How could I?” Zhen Yu complained. “I've come to apologize in person. I wasn't being polite the other day.”

Then, she simply entered without taking off her shoes and gave a glance around. “Is Zhongli not at home?”

“He's out getting bamboo shoots.” F/N answered, just as Zhongli came in with several bamboo shoots in a basket.

As soon as he saw Zhen Yu, his eyebrows farrowed and he gave F/N a questioning look.

“I couldn't help it.” F/N shrugged. “She sticks like glue.”

Zhen Yu's eyes lit up when she saw Zhongli. She practically skipped over, but before she could take a few steps, she tripped and fell in front of the married couple. She rubbed her legs awkwardly, “I think I sprained my foot. Honey, could you help me up?”

“You're an adult and you can't even walk properly without tripping on flat ground.” F/N chided. “Maybe you should get checked up at the Bubu Pharmacy.”

Zhen Yu pouted when Zhongli just walked over her and into the kitchen.

“Why bother with her?” the Lord of Geo looked at his wife as they prepared ingredients for Oncidium Tofu.

“She's like a rush that you can't shake off.” F/N replied, slicing the tofu.

Zhen Yu, feeling awkward, noticed that neither of the couple were paying attention to her. After a while, she picked herself up before darting towards the kitchen. “Is Zhongli the one who cooks at home? It must be hard for you; working to support the family then coming home to cook for my sister. When I have a husband, I won't let him cook for me. Cooking is women's work. Men shouldn't be in the kitchen.”

Zhongli poured himself a cup of Chenyu Brew, blew across the tea cup and took a sip to calm himself down. Rolling up his sleeves, he downed the entire cup, revealing his entire sleeve tattoo. “What's on the menu tonight? Let's cook this.” he looked coldly at Zhen Yu.

“Cook...” Zhen Yu stuttered, her face turning pale at the golden diamond-shaped tattoos decorating Zhongli's arms. “In our house, both of us handle the inside. Do you have a problem with that?”

“I don't have a problem.” Zhen Yu stammered. “I just feel sorry for my sister. It's not easy for you.”

“You're not someone to me.” Zhongli replied dismissively. “Why should I pity you?”

F/N pulled the still shell-shocked Zhen Yu away, “It's better to just give up. Not all men fall for your tricks.”

“Wasn't my brother-in-law just joking?” Zhen Yu recomposed herself with a forced smile as she prepared to leave F/N's house. “He's really funny.”

“Don't worry, mom.” Zhen Yu assured her mother once she returned home. “There was a small mistake there. There's no man I can't handle. I'm set on winning Zhongli and making F/N miserable. You didn't visit their house. You don't know they live in a house bigger than ours and they have more antiques than us. It's just her husband seems a bit off but rich people all have their quirks. It's normal. F/N is not as attractive as me. Why should she have such a good husband? She must have tricked him. Wait and see. I used to steal all her boyfriends. Now I will steal her husband too. Men are all the same.”

“Now, what is this about the ex-fiance of yours?” Zhongli breathed, the couple were cuddling in bed after a night of lovemaking.

Acting upon Zhen Yu's instigation, F/N's former fiance had harassed the couple during lunchtime.

“He's just a cheating scumbag that's not worth mentioning.” F/N replied. “We cut off any contact a long time ago. Zhen Yu is bothering you, not me.”

“So, someone's still yearning for your husband and you're not jealous?” Zhongli quirked an amused smile.

“Of course, I get jealous.” F/N playfully poked Zhongli's bare chest. “But I know not everyone can seduce my man.”

Days later, F/N's relatives begun to gossip about Zhen Yu's dismissal from her apprenticeship. She had bullied her fellow junior troupe members and attempted to seduce the troupe elders' sons to get more prominent roles which backfired when Zhongli made a formal complaint of her misconduct directly to Yun Jin. She was permanently expelled from the opera troupe, ending her dreams of performing alongside the troupe director.

[onestepbackwards]

Hello Soulmate

🔸Zhongli x Reader Drabble🔸

Summary: You've had a weird soulmark on your wrist since you were young. Who knew it was the soulmark of a god who has waited for you for almost 6000 years?

CW: Fluff, soulmate au

Word Count: 1428 words!

--❤❤❤--

Imagine Zhongli, in all his years alive, has never found his soulmate.

On his chest above his heart, a small bird symbol lays dormant. If it wasn't for the very obvious mark, he'd believe he never had a soul mate to begin with.

But not once in his thousands of years on Teyvat, had it ever lit up, or burned, or glowed. Tell tale signs a soulmate is alive, and that you have met them, or that they were nearby.

His did none of those. It just sat innocently on his chest.

At least it wasn't ashen grey, showing his soulmate had passed.

He had long grown not to expect his soul mate to appear. Zhongli did have hope after becoming an Archon, hoping that would make finding you easier.

But you never once showed up.

Eventually time went on, and he no longer felt hope.

Well, that would be a lie.

He felt hope, but it had long since grown into a warm, smoldering coal, instead of the blazing fire it once was.

The dragon knew if he were to still meet you in this life, he would love and cherish you, excited beyond belief.

But that day had yet to come.

So with a heavy heart, he went through with the death of Rex Lapis.

It was one of the most difficult decisions he had ever made. But it had to be done, regardless if he truly wanted to step down or not.

Erosion would eventually come its way for him, much like it had done to Azhdaha. It was best to let his country grow on its own two legs, and be prepared for when that day came, whether it be in a hundred years, or a thousand.

A part of him worried you would come, only when he was beginning to wither.

Zhongli didn't want you to see him like that. You already missed him in his prime, but he had nightmares of meeting his soul mate when his mind started to erode.

But it had to be done.

He wasn't too surprised to see your mark on his human vessel, though he still felt so empty. Deep down, he yearned to hold his soulmate, even now.

So when he was sipping tea one day, taking his time for an order for Director Hu, he dropped his tea cup when he felt a burn on his chest, right above his vessels heart.

His eyes widen as he reaches up to touch the spot. For once, he curses himself for wearing so many clothes.

He's leaving the tea house he is in, uncaring if the mora he slammed down on the table was enough to cover his meal. Rushing to his small home he had bought years ago, Zhongli slams through the door, almost stumbling to his room.

Ripping off his clothes, he shakes as he sees it in the mirror.

Your soulmate mark, alive and glowing warmly on his chest.

He stares in wonder, fingers gently reaching up, touching the delicate looking mark with awe.

You were real. You were alive. You were close by.

Old instincts pushed at the boundaries in his mind, and he forced them back down.

Not now. You were alive. You were real. He had time.

Rex Lapis waited 6000 years for you. Zhongli could wait just a little longer.

Meanwhile, you had an odd soulmate mark, ever since it first materialized as a child.

It was the Geo symbol. Just that, the Geo symbol.

Your parents had been stumped since the mark showed itself, on the inside of your wrist clear as day.

It glowed a stunning amber, and was outlined in black. Whoever it was, was alive and well.

Most marks had very interesting meanings. But THE Geo symbol?

It had your parents scratching their heads.

Not once had anyone you met had any symbol similar. Never had anyone seen a mark of one of the elemental sigils.

As you got older, it only brought more questions than answers.

Though you remember talking about it with a friend in the bar in Mondstadt, when the bard there asked about it when he saw it on your wrist in passing.

"You know... It might be someone from Liyue that uses a Geo vision. Or maybe an adeptus that works with Rex Lapis? Who knows, maybe even Rex Lapis himself?"

The bard then laughed, and your face went red at the remark. You? Being able to claim a god as your soulmate? Please.

The head of the bar ended up dragging him away, though the mischievous, almost knowing look that bard sent you over his shoulder had you second guessing yourself.

His words kept whispering in your head. Maybe your soulmate was in Liyue? That was the nation's symbol after all. If anything, it would be a good place to start looking.

After all, you always felt sometimes you had to grab fate by the horns and take control of it yourself.

So when you packed a bag and headed out, your parents tearfully waving goodbye behind you, you didn't think much of it.

If you found them, then you did. If not, you could always go home.

Though you weren't expecting your mark to burn when you stopped to rest at a Statue of the Seven near the harbor. The late Rex Lapis' statue.

A part of your mind grew anxious at this news. Your mark glowing and burning like this.

"Who knows, maybe even Rex Lapis himself?"

The bard's words echoed almost tauntingly in your mind.

You tried not to sadly laugh as you felt the warmth flow through your body.

Of course, if it really was Rex Lapis, it would only be your luck it was a dead god you were tied to. If only you had been a year sooner...

But that didn't mean Rex Lapis' spirit was gone. You had read the papers, and Lady Ningguang had mentioned a dream where he told her about how he had perished.

Or something like that.

Perhaps that was what this was then? Since he was a god, that's why your mark wasn't ashen grey? His spirit was strong enough to live on?

How cruel. If that was what this was, your soulmate was taken from you far too-

"I found you."

You scream as you spin around, and a man with the most gorgeous amber eyes you have ever seen is standing behind you.

He looked a bit disheveled. His clothes almost haphazardly thrown on. You got the impression he normally didn't look like this.

The mark on your wrist pulsed, and your eyes widened.

"You..." You began, though you couldn't think of the words you wanted to say.

The man is quick to unbutton his shirt, and tug it to the side.

When you saw the glowing bird, pulsing on his chest above his heart, you knew.

That mark was yours.

Carefully, you lowered your wrist, and he oh so carefully reached out for it. His hands were so gentle as they took your own, as if you were made of glass.

The spark that followed as a thumb ran across the symbol, left you breathless.

"My symbol..." He murmured, in awe over the small mark.

But you could already tell there was weight behind those words.

His eyes snapped back to your own, and you saw it.

This man... he was older than he looked. Those eyes were the ones of an old soul.

You felt power radiating from him, and your mouth went dry.

"You aren't... human, are you?"

It wasn't so much a question, as it was a statement.

The man blinked, almost in surprise, before he began to laugh.

It was a gentle one, one that had your heart pounding in your chest.

He smiled at you, eyes glowing bright.

"I should have known my soulmate would be able to figure it out first thing."

"Who knows, maybe even Rex Lapis himself?"

Those word rang in your mind once more, and you found yourself speaking before you could think about what you were asking.

"...Rex... Lapis...?" You asked, almost unsure, though the thought somehow felt so right.

His eyes seemed to brighten, along with his smile.

He brought your hand up to his mouth, and kissed the Geo symbol on your wrist, sending shivers through out your body. He then nuzzled against your hand, eyes never leaving your own. The loving look he sent you left you almost breathless.

"Hello, my dear. It's nice to finally meet you."

[l0viez]

This is a very random idea but like imagine,,, instead of YOU🫵🏻 being the creator of Teyvat, your actually just your parents sassy smart ass kid! and somehow your parent is the "CREATOR" of Teyvat💀 but..

SAGAU IMPOSTER!AU

Imagine this alright, your parent plays genshin and so do you (your the one who introduced it to them! isnt that nice) now you both somehow got sucked in Genshin Impact💀(dont ask how, its for the plot LMAO)

You and your parent got chased, almost got killed, yelled at, insulted, got called as a imposter yk all that normal typical SAGAU Imposter fanfics😭

Now you and your parent somehow got mora and decided to buy a house, howd you guys even got the mora to begin with and where are you guys even buying the house from? Some shady bussiness man from Sumeru that looks like they came from Snezhnaya (no its not one of the fatui's)

Alright so let's say you both got a house now, not too big not too small just right, Sometimes some abyss mages comes by to your house and brings food at first you and your parent was warry of it (Who wouldnt?😭) but seeing the abyss mages being actually friendly it calmed your parent down abit and decided to accept the foods

One day your parent decided to go and search for some extra food so you guys dont go hungry! which leads you being the only one inside the house.. Of course you didnt pay mind into it at first then later on, you heard some people outside your house (maybe 6-7?) you heard one of them yelling that they finally found the "imposters" house and is about to break in

You look through the window and remebered one of the rumours & gossips about whoever can capture the imposters will get a very high huge ammount of rewards

You noticed these people possibly trying to kill you and your parent were Treasure Hunters

You acted quickly and went to find items to protect yourself

//(Now you know that movie "Home alone"? Where that kid's name is kevin and made some traps to keep the robbers out of their house until his family , yeah thats you rn Lmao)//

Good thing you being in that boy/girls scouts payed off, you made sure to watch every Troom troom videos/jk

No but seriously, You and your parent is prepared for this and they trained you what to do if this ever happens, you quickly went to the room where you and your parents putted the traps to protect your house

You began to set off the traps and went a place to hide somewhere in the tables (you a kid so you bet yo ass your short asf) once you fully trapped the whole house and grabbed your makeshift weapon

Once you heard them go in the house you watched the treasure hoarders fail miserably on trying to get pass through the traps you have planted

Once theyre injured enough they finally gave up and flee not obtaining anything

Meanwhile you laughing your ass off

Once your parent finally came back you told them everything that happened

and your parent laughed with you

Lets just hope those treasure hoarders wont come back or call more back up or else theyre gonna get theyre ass beaten by traps planted by you once again💀

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - V

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

You peered out between the crack in the doors at the back of the cathedral.  Every pew was full.  Breakfast, what little you had of it, churned in your stomach.  Your hairpins were too tight and you fought the urge to fix them. 

The front steps were packed to the brim with common folk shivering in their coats and furs, eager to get a glimpse of you despite the bitter cold.  Why would the inside of the church have been any different?

Everyone seemed accounted for.  You had gone through the guest list extensively; it was far too long for your liking.

And it was far too late to back out now.

The high collar and long lace sleeves of your dress were soft, rather than irritating; you were right to have chosen the shop you worked with.  Your final fitting had induced tears, both of lamentation and awe; you only wished you shared such a moment with anyone other than the Tsaritsa.  Who were you to deny an Archon, after all?

She gifted you the veil that now covered your hair and face, as light as freshly fallen snow.  

Part of you wished, hoped, that perhaps you might catch a familiar shape in the crowd.  But as far as you could see, neither of your parents were present.  As expected.  Your father wouldn’t have been in good shape to attend, at any rate.

All that waited for you was a Harbinger, dressed in white, and the Tsaritsa beyond.

You rehearsed this for the past few days with the Omega Segment acting in its master’s place.  The very act did nothing but weigh on your nerves like your boss weighed his mora.  It was infuriating, actually, that Lord Dottore did not deign to show up to his own rehearsal ceremony.  He had that luxury.  You were required to appear.  After all, you had no copies of yourself to delegate tasks to and you were the only one in the ceremony who would do more than just stand and speak.

Typical Harbinger.  Others suffered while they reaped the benefits of their positions.

Running would get you nowhere except a shallow grave.

You agreed to this.  You gave your word.  And such a position would give you plenty of information to pass on.

The music started, the doors opened, and on beat, you began the long trip down the aisle. 

Your grip on your flowers tightened as you went.  The bouquet in your hands was a monstrous thing, flowers practically spilling out of it in an array of irises, cecilias, glaze lilies, and an overabundance of greenery.  The florist had gotten far too overzealous and you wish you hadn’t been so tired during those meetings.  Around you, the church was sparsely decorated except for the long carpet you walked on.  All eyes were, inevitably, be drawn to you.

 Brides were supposed to smile, you reminded yourself.  You hoped your smile only felt tighter than it looked.

Lord Dottore was dressed in mostly white and, naturally, not without that feathery mechanical thing draped over his shoulder like a mink pelt.  His mask was black with blue accents, different than usual mask he shared with Omega.  The tails of his coat were accented with bright blue, matching his waistcoat, and it even looked as though he repurposed the usual dangling tubes into accessories for his suit jacket.  Across his chest, a red sash, not unlike the Tsaritsa’s, denoting his station and affiliation.  A bright and luminous aquamarine gem was nestled into a pin at the base of his throat, floating above a white cravat. 

Despite the upper half of his face being covered, he did a decent job of appearing enamored: a tilt of the head; a charismatic smirk that passed for charming; a shifting of his weight as he fixed his cuffs.  If you didn’t know any better, you might have believed it yourself.

As you approached, you realized his shirt wasn’t black but a deep blue, almost as deep as the midnight sky back home.

You caught the quickest glance at his sharpened teeth when he attempted to match your smile.  It came off more like a snarl as you passed your flowers to an attendant and took Dottore’s awaiting hands.

You shared his sentiments.  Your feet were already aching and the event had barely begun.

The Tsaritsa spoke of a blur of sentiments that, perhaps in any other situation, would have brought you to tears.  Selflessness (impossible for the man before you), a reciprocity of compromise and challenge (only out of necessity to keep your job), sharing in the accomplishments of another (again, impossible for your future husband) were things that, surely, the crowd collected here knew to be absolute bullshit.  Il Dottore, Second of the Fatui Harbingers, was infamous for his ruthlessness, his lack of humanity, unwavering resolution for knowledge at any cost.

Hell, you even severely compromised on traditions that might have added authenticity.  Normal couples celebrated in Snezhnaya for at least two days; a marriage for a high-ranking military official would have warranted far more.  Back home, it was still common to practice the tradition of ransom for the bride but that required your parents and you caught a muttered remark about the cost of your ring.  Betrothal and Crowning were replaced with a simpler ceremony that would not insult the Tsaritsa while remaining true to Dottore's sentiments towards godhood (absolute bullshit, in his opinion). 

He cared little for ritual.  Ritual was nothing more than unsubstantiated nonsense to explain a world instead of looking closely for answers.  So long as everything was legal, it didn't matter to him otherwise.

In exchange, both of you would instead endure a tour of the main city for photographs before the reception.  Pantalone's idea.  Of course.

Would anyone really believe the two of you were serious about this…

The Tsaritsa did though. 

Didn't she?

You tried not to marvel at Lord Dottore's long fingers when he removed his gloves to exchange vows and rings.

His recitation was, of course, perfect.  If he wasn't a scientist, you were certain he might have been a stage actor in another life.  Dottore's touch lingered as he carefully arranged both of your rings and slid them home, ensuring they nested into one another perfectly. 

Compared to your pair of rings, his appeared plain when you slid it on after affirming your vows in return.  Then again, this union meant nothing and his adornments were always more about his rank and their functionality.  An unassuming band of platinum suited him just fine.

Touching him was less a sparking jolt at the sensation of skin on skin and more akin to a burn, as if thawing one's hands in front of a roaring fire after a day in the tundra.

The Tsaritsa spoke again, giving closing remarks.  You wanted to pull away already but there was little choice in the matter.  Dottore's fingertips were curled into yours, the smallest amount of contact you could get away with already, and it wouldn't take much for him to decide that you weren't playing along.

"…your union will be sealed with a kiss."

Lord Dottore's shoulders squared instantly and you felt the tension run into his fingers, now feeling more like curled claws.  Fuck.  Of all things you had discussed…practiced, even (you stepped on his feet more times than you cared to consider and yet still had your feet).  Had both of you truly forgotten…

The longer neither of you moved, the worse this was going to be.  You felt expectant gazes and heard a soft wave of whispers.  Convincing.  This needed to appear true—

You let go of Dottore's hands and you were thankful that he took the cue to lift the edge of your veil.  Disappointment sunk in your stomach as he kept his head as level as possible, preventing you from sneaking a look up his mask.  You stepped forward to close the distance, cupping his cheek with your left hand before you tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips to his.  Fluid, smooth, natural.

That was your role, you reminded yourself.  It would take both of you to make this work.

His lips were soft, as warm as his hands (warmer, perhaps, you considered).  As human as any other person you kissed before.  You pulled away, catching a glimpse of his ears turning pink, before he ducked down and captured your lips again, finally back on track. 

He turned his head to break the kiss but didn't pull away immediately.

"Quite efficient, Accountant," Lord Dottore whispered.

His words tickled your neck and threatened to send a shiver down your spine.

The closest you would never get to gratitude.

Touring the city was excruciating.  In-between trying to put names to faces and track who was speaking to whom, you waved and smiled from the carriage window, thankful the gray clouds were holding off their inevitable snowfall.  Every stop meant a photo, meant standing too close to your husband, all the while hoping you came off as shy and dutiful rather than stiff and uncomfortable. 

The schedule left little time for breaks.  You managed to nurse a glass of water, fix your makeup, and gather your remaining strength as an attendant bustled your dress before you entered the Palace Ballroom, arm in arm with the Harbinger.

If your husband was a different person, you would have pushed back on his insistence to get the first dance out of the way as soon as you were in the room.  But you agreed with him and it was better to get it over with.

As rehearsed, you took your position, thankful all the while he had slid his gloves back on as soon as you were in the carriage hours ago.  Bad enough you had to be essentially pressed up against him for this.  You would rather eat glass than touch him again, especially if he was going to feel warmer than he truly was.

He smelled more pleasant than you usually experienced.  The lack of viscera and disinfectant helped.  This close, closer than you had been all day as he led exactly on beat, you caught hints of musk, along with sandalwood, mint. 

Dottore pulled you flush against him after spinning you out, angling his head towards the crook of your neck.

"Relax your shoulders," he muttered.  "You're resisting the rhythm and making this harder than necessary.  All that convincing work earlier can be undone quite easily, Accountant."

"Is that a threat, my lord?" you teased, passing off a playful smile.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth but it didn't stay long.  He was quiet in the carriage, professional.  Other than his vows, he barely said a word to you all day.

"For once, not from me."

You schooled your face, instead resting your chin on his shoulder as the mantle's feathers brushed against your cheek.  It was much softer than you expected.

What had you missed?  Other than perhaps appearing, as any person might, a little weary during the tour, you had been nothing but polite and warm during any interactions with guests. 

"Even one as erudite as myself knows to move with the music and the flow of the event.  Stop thinking, Accountant."

You tried to ignore the slight squeeze of his arm around you; it was a little too tight to be assuring.  Focusing on the music, a song you could hum in your sleep by now, you tried to relax your shoulders and hips and follow through with the sway of each step.  The song ended; its final note was cut short by the sharp sound of knives on glass.  You fought a grimace, realizing your guests were goading you to kiss again.

This time, the Harbinger was quicker, stealing your lips as soon as you lifted your head from his shoulder.

"Better," Dottore whispered as he pulled away.  "By the end of this, you might even fool yourself."

You threw him the same smile and demure look as you did in the jewelry store and fixed his cravat to stifle the urge to punch him.

"Are you sure I won't fool you, Lord Harbinger?"

"I'd like to see you try."

The socializing took the longest.  The Harbingers themselves, although never without a quip to throw, were civil enough.  You led most of the conversations once the two of you reached the tables of dignitaries and nobles, Dottore falling back to either have more in-depth discussions or to observe, as he often did.  Eventually, it was just you when he muttered something about getting air and you were determined to get greetings and gratitude off your plate before dinner.

Your head swam as you recalled every single face, every name, every seating arrangement.  It wasn't that different from data, from account numbers, balances.  No one would call you an extrovert by any means but the only thing keeping you going was the very knowledge that Dottore was not going to do it.  Such things were not worth his time.  Without his Segments in normal situations, he was protective of his time; now, it was your turn to fill in the gaps.

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at yourself.  Your duty was to the people of Snezhnaya and beyond.  Your duty was your family.  This marriage was a means to an end.  You only played your part because if you didn't, the consequences were far, far worse than you wanted to consider. 

You were partway through the final table when you felt a hand on your elbow and you saw everyone at the table straighten considerably, as if they were puppets ready to perform.  Instead of any kind of introduction or pleasantry, however, Dottore turned his attention to you, his hold gentle.

"Dorogáya moya, come eat before your plate gets cold."

You felt your face flush at the use of the term, both at the familiarity and the double meaning.  Over the last few weeks, you learned that he was not a native to Sneznhaya, as you were, but he spoke the language so fluently one would never know.

With a smile, you let yourself be taken to the head table, where the first course of many sat waiting for you.  Your stomach grumbled at the sight of food.  You'd been hungry since before the ceremony.  Now that you looked, you noticed that the wait staff were well into bringing out dishes, carrying trays over their shoulder.

Funny that he would come find you when he left you alone to tackle the ridiculous social obligations of his station.  Then again, Lord Dottore couldn't exactly have you fainting at your own wedding. 

"So, I'm expensive, am I?" you asked, glancing through your peripheral at him as you took a long sip of water.

You half-entertained wine earlier but you needed your faculties and wits about you.  Water was best.

"If time was a currency, yes," Dottore turned his head to you, fork and knife still poised on the plate.  "Surely you can quantify how much of my time could be better spent on almost anything else."

"And surely you know how easily anyone could read into a Harbinger calling his new wife expensive as establishing an amazing matrimonial foundation."

Dottore tilted his head and raised a shoulder, a gesture you always took to mean silent acquiescence.  If you could see his eyes, you imagined his eyebrows would be rather expressive as well.

“I never cared for the opinions of others, especially those who never had to try to improve their life, such as most of our guests who were born into their position.  There is little reason for you to be anything beyond polite.  It is those closest who must be fooled, not the rest of the country.”

“All it would take—” you hissed.

“You’re forgetting who you married, Accountant.” Dottore gave you what anyone else would have called a charming smile. “Unlike you, they fear me.  Now eat.”

He needed you to cooperate but if he thought he was going to spend the next year commanding you around...arrogant, self-important, manipulative ass…

You kept your face neutral as you lifted a utensil, pushing away the thought of driving your fork into his leg.  It was the least he deserved. 

Flavor exploded in your mouth as you took a bite to eat.  Any other time, you might have reacted beyond simply reaching for another forkful from your plate.  The finest thing you tasted in months, years, and just like everything else, it was wasted on this moment.  A moment you would never get back. 

Funny how right he was.

Food helped.  Each of you played the part of doting newlywed, dancing, smiling, laughing.  You only ever heard Lord Dottore chuckle but never outright laugh.  It was almost sweet, how genuine the sound was.  Did he even realize it, you wondered, when the mask slipped and for a moment he appeared almost human?

Of course he did.  Nothing would ever get passed him.

Except you.

If you made it out of this alive.

It was no secret that a Harbinger's station meant a certain quality of life.  Estates of their own, entire wings within the Palace for work and for leisure.  After all, the Cryo Archon only had her Harbingers to dote on, who else would make use of the space, you often wondered.  Staff were well-compensated and taken care of but the stark contrast between your dormitory and living spaces compared to the soaring ceilings and marble pillars and gilded frames turned what little food you managed to keep down.

You weren't in charge of auditing the annual operating budget (that was exclusively for the Ninth himself) but you could estimate.  More than what you would make in your lifetime thirty times over, probably.

The walk from the ballroom to the far reaches of the Palace was shared in silence.  Exhaustion was woven into the very layers of your gown and by now face-planting into the bed, makeup and all, sounded like a wonderful idea.  After all, it was not as if anything about this arrangement was normal and Lord Dottore himself expected nothing, he had been quite clear about that from the beginning.

He was impossible to read right now, even for you.  Mouth in a flat line, shoulders back, arms behind him as he walked as if he were simply out for a stroll.  Without the context of a common discussion topic, mostly regarding his funding, you couldn't tell if he was simply bored, exhausted, or annoyed.  All three in a stormy cocktail seemed likely. 

The rooms themselves were as lavish as the rest of the Palace.  Opulent furniture that was dusted but never used filled the sitting room that you walked into, the walls lined with filled bookshelves.  Floor to ceiling windows revealed the usual white landscape and the mountains beyond while projecting your reflection back at you from the illumination of a nearby lamp.  Your bag, the singular container of all of your packed belongings sat on a sofa, as if discarded hastily.

Through a set of double-doors was a second private sitting room and the bedroom, as large as half of your entire dormitory floor.  Dark wood, flowing lines, clearly hand-crafted rather than assembled on a factory line.  Too many pillows on the bed. 

Did he even sleep?

The only details the space was even occupied were the books piled haphazardly on a coffee table, on a bureau, scraps of paper and blueprints scattered but clearly organized in a way that made sense to someone.  A coat strewn across a couch arm.  Mechanical parts and a small set of tools on a table where one might ordinarily hold a private dinner party.

You caught sight of a large closet and beyond it, a washroom, each room with their own set of double-doors to close the space off.  For a man as arrogant as Il Dottore, perhaps even vain (after all, who made clones of themselves if they weren't?), you expected far more clothes and shoes.  His budgets rarely, if ever, accounted for clothing unless it was for a specific occasion but that didn't mean much.  And you doubted he would have made room for your pitiful amount of belongings.

On one side of the closet was a large three-way mirror, the kind you dealt with at the seamstress, complete with a platform.  Obnoxious.  This felt out of place compared to the amount of space in the closet itself.  Unless, of course, he did his own tailoring or a Segment did.  Would explain the lack of receipts and mentions of it for his budget reviews.

You locked eyes with your own reflection and saw where your make-up was thinning, how your hair had finally succumbed to the weight of the product in it.  No matter how hard you tried to keep your eyes open, they seemed to have minds of their own; you were beyond tired at this point.

And the dress was finally taking its toll.  The lace was scratchy and the corset was digging into you.  Without thinking, you finagled your feet and removed your heels without bending over.  You closed your eyes, instantly relieved at the sensation of your heels sinking into the carpet.  The pain was still there but it nice to be on even ground again.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt slight tugging on the buttons of your dress and it took everything in you now to jump, nerves frayed and split.  Dottore looked up from behind you, mask still in place, and you could only presume he was making eye contact.  Harder to determine without facing him.

"Don't tell me you expected to reach every single button yourself, Accountant," he sneered.

"More like I didn't think you would help.  Not without prodding."

Dottore scoffed as he undid the buttons running the length of the dress and loosened the back stays of your corset.  He tugged slightly at your dress' sleeve but not enough to reveal your shoulders.  Never once did you feel the brush of his gloved hands on your skin. 

Dottore stepped back when he finished, your gaze remaining fixed on his mask.

"Polite for a man who stepped foot into my office covered in blood on more than one occasion," you remarked.

You were graced with the wide, vicious smile you knew so well, sharpened teeth gleaming.

"Go wash up, you smell like you wandered through a florist's nightmare."

He nodded his head in the direction of the bath but made no attempt to leave the dressing room.  You held back a grimace as a sound of disgust escaped your lips.

"You have such a charming demeanor, Lord Harbinger."

You gathered up your dress and entered the bathroom before he could remark further, shutting the doors behind you with the resounding clicks of the latch and lock.

The bathroom was tiled and just as ornate as the rest of the rooms: a large vanity with more counterspace than you ever saw in the dorms; a water closet for the toilet; a standalone shower; a tub that stood on its own feet and looked as if it was intended for at least two people, maybe more.  You were beginning to think there was no in-between in the Palace; either everything was utilitarian and functional or overly-decorative and wasteful of resources. 

Here too, you could only see a smattering of personal effects.  Signs the room was occupied but not necessarily used.  Curiously, you picked up a bottle and read the label once, twice, and then again, realizing it was actually some kind of acid and not a mouth rinse solution.  Whoever brought your things over from your dorm had at least been insightful enough to unpack your toiletries and you were thankful you would not risk burning off your scalp to wash your hair.

Just as you were rummaging around for your things, you noticed a bundle wrapped in soft tissue on a chair near the door.  Weird.  Was this for you?

You removed the rest of your jewelry and tugged gently on the lace sleeves, the upper body of the dress coming free without further resistance.  You stepped out of the dress, arranging the pile of tulle and lace neatly nearby before turning your attention back to the small package.

Gently, you pulled apart the paper.  From the pile of cloth, you plucked the top piece and held it up, frowning.  It left little to the imagination.  Same for the other half.  On the bottom was, you presumed, what was meant to be worn over the lingerie, made of the same fabric with a small bow on the back and ruffles on the hems.

To the credit of whoever put it there, it was very fine material.  The kind that was befitting of your newly acquired station.  Lace this soft and sheer was painstaking to make and couldn't be machine-replicated. 

There was no note in the packaging.

Lord Dottore held no expectations, you reminded yourself.  Had a servant put this here?  If so, on whose behalf?

You put the lace back down and ran the shower, adjusting the water as you ran through scenarios in your mind.

Was Dottore testing you?  Could he have only said such a thing to get you to agree?  If he'd changed his mind, it would have been more prudent to tell you.  On the other hand, telling you would allow you to prepare and he wasn't in the habit of allowing anyone, subject or not, to have time to skew results.  Plausible enough.

Or perhaps Pantalone, in his ever-insistent and nosy nature, had this planted here?  Considering the state of your ring situation, this was also viable.  He wasn't above planting evidence, arranging scenarios so they worked in his favor without fail.  From Lord Pantalone's perspective, Dottore acquiring a wife so soon after their deal was struck would have been immediately suspicious and potentially short-sighted, subject to various tests of his own...

Maybe it was neither and a servant or even a Segment thought the notion would be funny.

But it was too expensive for that.  No one paid that much mora on something without a purpose…or at least, most people didn't.  Your boss was, as always, the worst exception.

You stepped into the shower, ridding yourself of your makeup and perfume and the rest of the day's trappings.

As you stepped out of the shower, feeling at least a little more human, your stomach sank.

In your frustration with Dottore, you never grabbed a change of clothes. 

Because your bag was in the sitting room.

Your heart squeezed as you lamented your poor planning.  Really?  At this rate, you would be found out.  How the hell could you possibly think this was going to work when you didn't even grab your things and put them in the closet?

Why hadn't the one responsible for the task done that?  That just made sense!

You could walk out in a towel, go grab your things, and make it even more obvious that you were only doing this because, perhaps, you might get better intel. 

And while Lord Dottore wouldn't care about any of that, was it really necessary to make a show of how much you didn't want to show skin around him?  No. 

He thought well enough of your professionalism.  And part of that would be embracing the role you were supposed to play.  If a servant were to see you not in lingerie as befitting a wedding night, but in drab pajamas…whispers usually spread like wildfire on a good day.

You dried your hair as best you could, freshened up, nestled the lace against your skin.  While you weren't used to the cut of certain things, it wasn't uncomfortable per se.  Altogether, it was quite lovely. 

Another thing wasted on the wretch in the other room.

When you stepped back into the bedroom, you found Lord Dottore laying on the bed, covers pulled back as he scribbled into a book.  Even now, his mask was still present.  His hand stilled and he turned his head to you briefly to acknowledge your presence before he went back to what he was doing.

Steeling yourself, you crossed the room, crawled onto the bed, and straddled him.  He hadn't changed at all, only bothering to remove his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat.  Deftly, you grabbed the book from his hands and tossed it to the floor to force him to look at you.  He was solid and warm beneath you, the same as any other, and you tried not to think of how little separated the two of you, how bare you were under the lace.

Dottore tilted his head, lips pulling into a smirk for a moment before it spreads into a full-toothed grin, his hand reaching for and gripping your thigh.

A leg wrapped around yours and you met the bed quicker than you expected to, soft sheets and a firm mattress under you.  You blinked, Dottore's grinning face above you, never far from reach.  You felt a hand ghost over your side, your breast, your collarbone, before it settled on your neck, caressing your pulse point.  Despite your proximity, you never felt him press against you, not even when he brushed his lips over your cheek, where the faintest scar remained.

"I hardly you know, my dear.  Besides, I already told you that I have no expectations beyond those in public.  Such acts between us are quite unnecessary," he said.

Dottore rubbed his thumb up and down the column of your neck before he angled his head so his lips were near your ear.

"Unless, of course, you're simply needy enough to put yourself in the maw of a wolf so easily for a quick reprieve.  You never struck me as the sort but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Heat flooded your cheeks at the insinuation but before you could protest, the Harbinger rolled off of you and out of the bed.  He bent down, picked up the book, and made his way to the door to the sitting room.  For a moment, Dottore looked at the leather-bound cover in his hands before he turned his attention back to you.

"There is little need for someone as lovely as you to give more than is asked to a monster such as myself.  We leave at daybreak."

Oh.  Right.  Honeymoon.  He took care of that and you still had no idea where you were even going.

Without another word, the doors shut, leaving you alone in the large bedroom.  Light bled in through the bottom of the doors.  No doubt he would be awake a while longer. 

You clutched at the bedspread, embroidered with silk and stuffed with down.  It gave easily under your hands, as such soft feathers often did, providing nothing substantial to squeeze.  You weren't insulted or even hurt, as many others in your position would have been.  Confused, certainly, but your ego was intact.

Seduction wasn't precisely a skill you practiced.  Numbers told stories in unique variations and patterns and provided more consistency than people.  People were unpredictable.  Il Dottore especially.

You fell asleep, wondering when all of this would come back to bite you.

[harmonysanreads]

all this kaveh angst (canon wise) has me pumped up w ideas, man 🤦‍♀️ i can just imagine yan!kaveh in the hexagon love au falling deeply in love w darling as they offer him a shoulder to cry on. maybe there’s this bridge of understanding between them as darling rubs his back, telling kaveh its not his fault, he shouldn’t carry the burden of all his stresses alone. kaveh wants to cry but he’s just listless, looking at darling as he falls deeper in love. someone cares for him? oh yeahhh, darling defff wants him (bc he’s delusional like that). maybe that’s a skewed perception of love, but kaveh feels very seen right now, and he’s has these feelings brewing more deeply since it’s coming from darling ofc!

or heck, maybe in the vamp au where maybe, immortality is really getting to kaveh as he continues reminisce his old mortal life, even if hundreds of years has passed. and there’s this cute little mortal, his darling love, who’s somehow managing to carry of all his sadness despite their small little pea brain (bc how can a mortal be able to fully comprehend immortality and its grief?). kaveh is smitten, regardless.

overall, yan!kaveh is the type to just dump all of this on darling and he sees it as a very glaring sign that darling is returning these feelings of comfort…and perhaps…its a mutual feeling of love. because if darling cares, they must love him right?

and if darling is willing enough to play therapist, then it’s game :P

also i have this little ramble for the hexagon au, where kaveh isn’t that much of an avid drinker (nowadays, that is, ever since meeting you and years has passed every since his parents….). but he does get a little nervous around you. his hands always manages to get clammy and he can’t help the ache in his stomach when he sees you. to quell his nervousness, he drinks. just a little to give him a boost of confidence! so he comes to the tavern around late noon when the sun is setting. for the first hour he’s preoccupied in drinking to calm his shaky hands and his shyness (read: he’s trying to impress you with his rizz not his awkwardness) then when he’s a little bit better, he’s laughing and talking freely with you; kaveh becomes quite confident.

throughout the weeks to the months he’s lingered around, he grows to talk less of jokes and begins to complain about work, and worst of all: al haithaim, when there’s a feeling of comfort established within him. one day he slips an insult about his work and his need for sleep. you shoot him a sympathetic smile as you put down the glass you were going to give him, the fifth he asks for. he usually stops after the second glass, but he was more than fine with giving you more mora as an exchange. you lean closer to him as you put a hand on his shoulder. you whisper to kaveh that he should head home early for tonight. this was certainly a first as kaveh felt magnetised to your touch. he feels himself move closer to you, the last sip of alcohol is heavy on his lips. he was way past tipsy. the warmth of your hand and your worried look, your lips moving to speak your heart to him of all people. “i—,” kaveh would hesitate to respond back at first. but your furrowed brow and your eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the lamps nearby. your face so soft and how your lips gives him a weary smile, which has his him weak. “thanks for worrying. it’s just that…”kaveh can’t help but find himself sharing his personal ailments. thus born, a wretched and broken man seeking comfort in you. he speaks and speaks until his tongue could no more push him to speak any longer, even if his tears dry up. but you won’t look away from him—never. kaveh notices how you don’t even turn your back on him, you’re always there. sometimes you turn a blind eye to other patrons as you stay beside him. feet planted firmly in your spot as you give him all that he asks for in the world. a reciprocation to mediate this feeling of loneliness. you’re giving him smiles and your words mends the cracks in his broken heart. you touch him too, giving him warmth and shelter from the cold. kaveh is convinced, you must feel the same way as he does when he sees you. no longer did he see you as a crush, it was way more to him at this point.

he comes the next day again, acting as if he didn’t tell you all his burdens. but when you look at him the moment he sits himself down at the bar, “did you get enough sleep last night?” you ask. kaveh is soaring.

he’s willing to spill himself to you and when he wakes back up tomorrow morning in his bed, still in his clothes from the day before with hair tousled about, his heart feels less heavier and he’s yearning to see you once more.

oh gosh, you’re everything to kaveh.

and here comes al haithaim busting through his bedroom. “it’s your turn to do the dishes. or are you too hungover? you were practically dragged home last night.” al haithaim mocks. kaveh immediately sits up, eyes wide open. “you went to get me?”

“no, i wouldn’t waste my time to go and find you when i’m preoccupied with better things to do. so, someone else did. that person you keep mentioning. what’s their name?” al haithaim is silent for a moment before an all too familiar curious look glints his eye. “y/n.” he states with a sureness to his tone. kaveh can’t help but feel his breath get caught in his throat.

anyway sorry for the ramble LOL i love this au 😭 i got more to say about the other participants

Omg Nonnie........ I cannot thank you enough for blessing us with this feast 😩

First let's talk about Vampire!Kaveh, the relationship with Darling and Kaveh here is very dependent. They have much in common ; both of them are lonely (one more chronically and stretched out for centuries but lonely, still), both of them want someone they can connect with deeply and both of them want to be loved. Similar to Vampire!Alhaitham, Vampire!Kaveh is also drawn to darling for their innocence. To normal humans, it may not have been anything noticeable but for these creatures who've known darkness and corruption intimately, Darling is a flicker of hope for them. Though, as Kaveh is one of the few vampires who can, despite their age, still feel, he's... astounded at the existence of a human like you.

The Venn diagram of Vampire!Kaveh and good old broke architect Kaveh would intersect at the part that he dumps his trauma and emotions on Darling. Actually, this is a vital point for even getting Kaveh to fall in 'healthy' love for you, it's an unintentional test. Can you handle the mess that he is? Graciously carry his burden? And still be his pillar until he can stand straight again on his own? A very interesting thing you pointed out that Kaveh is rather delusional. This pairs up well with the previous fact about him developing feelings for you that I mentioned, after all, it takes two to make a quarrel.

Also please please please send in your thoughts for the others — if you have time, of course<3 I'm literally addicted to this.

[grogusmum]

Seven Tears part 6

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 2500ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Summer moves quickly on Roan Inish, Pearl and Cee grow close and the baby is born, but the fall brings the annulment at last, and with it there is retaliation and a choice is made.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, though set in mid-20th century Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse, and his family are white, reader gives birth (not described), Cee in peril, ANGST, Colin and Jamie continue to be horrible people, Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning, excessive use of pet names, painful cliffhanger - its going to be okay, I promise! (as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

A/N: Welp, at 364 days since the last update- it hasn't been a literal year since the last chapter... After I finally got it down and started editing I realized why I had such a block. At least part of it anyway... This is a tough one. I understand why I kept diverting to writing side fics with sexytimes, new-fangled doodads, flashbacks of shenanigans, and so forth. While I was figuring out this chapter, and well into writing it, I spent most of the time saying to Ezra, can we just make breakfast and snuggle??? Of course, he's no help because he says yes let's. Like so many of my penultimate chapters, it's a cliffhanger and a painful one, and I am so very sorry. But I am not stopping and taking a break to do other fics. I will be writing part 7 this weekend.

Gaelic Translation (with a dash of history)

Móra dhuit ar maidin: good morning, is a twist on the traditional Dia dhuit ar maidin which means God (be) with you. Some believe this is where the infamous “Top of the Morning” Mor meaning big, Mora believed to be a “lost word”. However, it was discovered that in fact, this is one of the quite rare surviving pagan blessings. Mór was a significant goddess (note: attributes quite different to the Morrigan or Mór Ríon, even if sometimes mixed together) with many avatars. Of course, this all can be debated to the end of time, when one’s religion and language are made illegal so much is lost.

Gaeilge translation

A ghrá: love

Mo stór: Literally translating to “My treasure,” this phrase is often used to mean “my darling.”

Part 5

Series Masterlist

‘You would have to become a selkie yourself.’

Ezra stopped further conversation that night about it. “Today has been long and arduous, and not the hour for decisions of this magnitude, Moonbeam.” He had said, then unfairly distracted you as only he can.

Your time on the island was magical. You cleaned out the other cottages and your parents brought some basic furniture. The cottages were sparse but appointed with the necessaries to visit comfortably. The visits from your family and Tilda and Fergus were lovely. Because your relocation was for your safety and protection, no one knew beyond that circle. You knew you would miss your friends and cousins. But for now, you were distracted from missing them too badly because Cee came to visit, often. It was new to her, and she found it great fun. She would look at her human feet or hands and laugh with wonder, she would tell you later ‘wonder at their ridiculousness’. You noted fondly that she had a little bit of her father’s laugh.

The first time she came up out of the water you got to see the transformation firsthand. Her flippers felt for the seam under her snout, invisible to the eye. She then pulled it apart and a blonde teenager emerged. 

Blonde. You looked at Ezra, flabbergasted. To which he said-

 “There is a saying, my Pearl, all toads are frogs but not all frogs are indeed toads. Uncommon it may be, but one needs only look for the sea storm in her eyes to know.”

Cee came and went from the shoals, and Ezra reminded you not to worry, that as your belly rounded with every week that passed, he would be the worrier in the family.

Spending the morning fishing with your Da and Thomas, Ezra is gone when you wake. This is his way of thanking them as they usually have other supplies for you. Cee emerges from her bed which is curtained off in one corner of the great room, as you set out two bowls of porridge. 

“Móra dhuit ar maidin (MOR-uhg(w)itch air MA-jin), Cee”

“Móra dhuit ar ma–” Cee yawns openly, “jin. Where is me Da?” 

She, then, sniffs the oats hopefully.

“Fishing,” You tell her. “Why don' you cut some apples, dear.” 

“With hooks and a line?” Cee chuffs as she sets to the task. You can not help joining her mirth. 

You are with Cee on your own for the first time-

“You must have missed Ezr- your Da. I did not know I was keeping him from anyone- I would have encouraged him to visit. I am truly sorry, Cee.”

“‘tis the nature of things,” Cee says, mouth full of apples and oats, “besides if he were to slip back into his pelt and visit, he could not return to you for seven years. He has loved you a long time- everyone knows that!”

You are taken aback, you hardly register the sweet knowledge that she and others in his pod knew his love for you, thinking about the fact that if he goes in he can not return for seven years. Seeing her come and go, you assumed, with no small amount of relief, that bit was a myth, and you tell her so.

“Oh, I can come and go, because I am a natural-born selkie. Da was turned.”

“How was he turned?”

“Well,” Cee starts, “ehm, that is probably a story he ought tell you. Though he don' really like to tell that tale.”

By the time of Ezra return, Cee’s words were pushed out of your mind. For the pair of you had gathered seaweed and dug clams for luncheon, and you had felt your first real kick from the baby.

“Pearl! Come sit,” Ezra pulls you into the house. “You need to rest.”

Sitting you down by the fireplace, he settles on his knees, splaying a large warm hand on your lower belly, soft brown eyes on you, hoping to feel another kick. 

“How does everyone?”

“Very well, Moonbeam,” Ezra absently runs his hand over the expanse of your middle, then drops his head on your lap. “Patrick had some supplies for us as well.”

“Any news?”

“Well…”

“What, a ghrá (uh GHRAH)?”

“Colin and his brother are still ragin’. Dierdre is making progress with the annulment, tis not sitting too well, it seems.”

“Pity sake”

“He deserves none," Ezra's eyes darken and you see his selkie nature for just a moment.

On the longest day, your water breaks at 4 a.m. The gift of midsummer's day is that daylight is already breaking, and Ezra can take the currach out right away and fetch your mam. The whole of the family comes back with Ezra and waits outside the cottage as Deirdre and Felicia help you bring young Rory into the world, with Ezra attached to your side. 

When Rory's shoulder breaches its final barrier with your last mighty push, he slips like a seal into your mother’s waiting arms. 

Ezra kisses your glistening brow and with a whoop, he runs to the window to shout to kin both seal and man-

“Tis a boy! With a shock of red hair from who knows where!” To which everyone whooped and laughed hardily.

“It’s midsummer! That’d be the faeries doing!” Hugh calls.

“Someone tell that boy to hush,” Deirdre says to no one in particular, shaking her head and crossing herself. She hands off the swaddled babe to Felicia, who brings him to you. Your Mam goes to the fireplace takes up an iron poker and draws talismans into the ash, muttering about faeries, calling St. Bridget to protect the home and all dwelling within.

You, Ezra, Rory, and Cee grow more in love with every passing day. There is nothing Cee enjoys more than when Rory is in his boat cradle, being lulled in the shallows tethered to a rope you hold fast to. During his fussy times, it is the only thing that calms him. She swims round and round it, bobbing up to check on him. Ezra barks his laugh at Cee’s antics and in the evenings he holds his son close, nosing his cheek and murmuring in the old way. And of course, any chance he gets, he brings you closer to him than many would find humanly possible. Nights are spent worshipful, in one another's arms. When the babe is wakeful, Ezra brings him to you, and when Rory is fed and dozing he silently takes him back to his cradle.

Summer rushes past as it has a habit of doing and autumn comes. Plans are set for this morning to go to the mainland to sign papers for your annulment. 

“Tis finally here,” you sigh, kissing Ezra, the baby dressed and ready for a boat ride. “I’ll go to the church and get this settled at long last and meet you at the pub?”

“Agreed, mo stór (mu store)” Ezra says as he carries out a basket to the currach, he sets it in the boat and then helps you aboard, as you hold Rory. 

The tide is with you as is the wind, so your trip is uneventful and swift. Ezra kisses your cheek and takes the baby for Tilda and Fergus to see and you head up to St Bridget’s to finally wash your hands of Colin. You smile as you walk the familiar cobbled road, excited butterflies in your belly. You remember to be watchful, knowing Colin and Jamie, this day is sure to stir up a hornet's nest. All is quiet, but you start to feel as though it is too quiet.

Ezra brings Rory into the pub, head up, bursting with fatherly pride, and Tilda comes round the board, hand on her heart. She takes up the baby as she gives Ezra a peck on the cheek. 

“You may never get the wee one back,” Fergus laughs. 

“Look how big you’ve gotten!” She coos.

“He is but a weed of a thing, growing faster-” No sooner does Ezra sit to catch up with his friends, does Hugh run into the bar, holding a stitch in his side. Ezra stands, his nostrils flaring as his eyes go dark, as if the barometer just fell and he could feel a dangerous storm brewing.

“I was- I was down at the docks-” he gasps trying to catch his breath. “Cee was there, knew it was the- the big day. But Colin-” 

Ezra was on him, hands like vices on his shoulders. 

“Ezra!” Tilda commands. He let go but the huff of his breathing bristles his mustache.

“What about Colin,” Ezra’s voice is like nothing they have ever heard. Rory fusses.

“He’s got Cee in a net, started dragging her out. Da -.”

Ezra bellows. 

“Watch over Rory, Tilda. Hugh, does she know?”

“No, I came here first. Thomas has a boat- one with a motor-” 

“Good lad,” Ezra breathes and storms from the pub, Hugh following behind.

At the dock, Ezra prowles up and down, until Thomas comes into view.

“Over there!”

Ezra looks at the small vessel with an outboard motor, mildly distrustful. 

“Hugh stay at the dock and keep watch. We will get to the boa-”

“No. Go back to the island.”

“Wh-”

“I need my pelt.”

Cee twists and bites at the net, angry at herself for getting caught. Knowing this was to get to you and Ezra. Other seals surround her, trying to help.

She barks, nostrils flaring, pointing with her nose behind her. Two seals peel off and go in the direction she indicates, while one stays with Cee.

Soon enough two gray seals like torpedoes reach Ezra, flanking the port and starboard bows. Their heads come above the surface and one barks.

"Go on ahead to the island, in the hamper at the end of the big bed. Fast. Meet me back at this boat. Mind the propeller," Ezra shouts over the wind and motor.

The seals put out a burst of speed, porpoising in and out of the water. 

"What are you going to do?"

"You have to tell her," Ezra's voice breaks, eyes rimmed red. "Tell her,  I will return even if she can't bring herself to come to me. I will-"

"Ezra?"

"I promised," he wails, "I have never promised anyone anything- only she! But I can't let Cee-"

"She'll understand."

"I'm deserting her!"

"I will tell her."

"Is there anything to write with?"

Thomas rummages a bit and pulls from his pack, a small notebook with a pen tucked in its spine.

Ezra takes it and begins scribbling frantically.

Jamie’s boat speeds along, gulls scold them, and seals chase. Colin and Jamie jeer at them, determined to take their offense out on the young selkie. Heedless of the long-held taboo and the consequences that can befall entire villages, for harming a seal. Whether or not they know Cee was a selkie or a seal, they laughed in bad humor and wondered if one of them would make wife of her. They are both quite lucky Cee could not hear their base chatter. 

After chewing at the net for some time, Cee finally breaks through the net, barking a laugh of triumph. When she slips free, she rolls and tumbles with her companion in celebration. When she has had her fill, she bobs in the water watching as the craft continues east. Cee barks at the other seal and sets after the boat at top speed. Only after she chews the netting that held her captive to shreds, does she make way to the mainland. But it is not long before she is faced with her mistake. 

You arrive at the pub in good spirits, but your relaxed smile is wiped clean off at the sight of the faces within. Your face falls further seeing Tilda with Rory, and Ezra nowhere to be found.

"Where-"

For the second time today, Hugh bursts in like the devil is at his heels-

"C-cee-"

"Is she alright?" Tilda says standing.

"She is! She- she got away, but she's ragin' on the stand!"

The lot of you pour out of the pub. Fergus tosses out a lone customer and locks up behind. Hugh hastily explains what he knows, as your eyes become saucers. At the beach Cee is half out of her coat,  as she is covered with the blanket that Tilda had the forethought to bring, she seethes-

"Da went after 'em. He didn’ know I broke free on me own until after he’d done it! He's angrier than I have ever seen!"

"Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?" Your eyes search her.

"He's not mad at that- well he is bu' he's fit to be tied because-" Cee's words pull up short, she looks like she might cry. "He thought- he- put on his pelt. I- I'm sorry."

You look as though you've been struck in the face, but you rub her shoulder absently hoping she knows you do not blame her. 

"He's gone after the boat, he wi- he'll sink it," Cee finishes.

"Where's Thomas?" Asks Hugh.

"I'm here!" Thomas runs down the rocky steps, and hands you the note.

My shining Pearl,

I am loath to break my promise and beg your forgiveness.

Do I dare remind you that we spoke of you coming with me? 

Though I admit that conversation was far from over.

Do I presume to ask for this gift? 

Would you don a silken seal coat, mo ghrá? 

Would you do this for me though I hardly deserve it? 

Yours forever,

Ezra

When you finish reading, you find yourself turning a lost circle, pebbles shifting underfoot. 

"I- he-" You look down at the note again, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"He didn't want to!" Thomas says, beside himself.

"Of course, he didn't," Dierdre soothes. 

Trembling, you rush to Tilda grasping her hands. Blinded by the tears that refuse to fall, you don't see what everyone else can see plain, she knows your question and hates the answer.

"The Maiden and the Seal-lord! She- she was able to take her grandmother's pelt! You have one from yours, yes? Please yes!"

The waves crash, as though very ocean can not abide your tears.

"Darlin, my seal gran has too many greats in front of it to tell us, even if I could dig it up and give it to you," Tilda holds your panicked face in her worn hands. " Which I would, I most surely would. But it would not transform you- for no matter how close I hold you as kin, you must be a blood relation. Your way… if you wish it, it will be harder." 

Your wail breaks her heart, gulls echo your cry. 

You take Rory in your arms, the note crushed in your hand, and climb Widow’s Rock.

"Ez-ra!" 

Deirdre sends everyone back to the house and carefully climbs the rock. She wraps her arms around you and Rory. 

"For right or wrong, God forgive him. He will sink that boat and come back to you, even if he can't take off his coat."

You nod in response, eyes on the open water-

"I need to talk to Cee.”

Part 7

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my stories you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

[aeneaans]

that fated day

synopsis: after a tiring day, you and diluc decide to watch a meteor shower together

word count: 1,323

c/w: none !!!

note: hi !! this is my first time posting on tumblr >_< please enjoy !! i dont post super often but yeah :3

There wasn’t a single cloud in sight that night, the stars littered the vast ocean in its reflection. “Hey, do you believe in wishing upon a star?” You asked as the two of you returned to Mondstadt after taking down a few Fatui camps together in the evening. Diluc lowers his head slightly and ponders his response. His steps across the ground are soft, yet they still hold a sense of authority to them. It’s quiet. Crickets chirp in the warm summer breeze, the sky turning dark at last. Mondstadt has mostly fallen asleep by now–the city that’s filled to the brim at the brink of dawn has not a flicker of light in sight. The windmills continue to spin, as does the wind blow, and the summer dew trickles from the petals of the Cecilias.

“I’ve never thought about things like that. I suppose I don’t.” Diluc responds after a few seconds of thought. “Why the sudden question?”

Right before you set out on your adventure with Diluc, Mona happened to be at the main gate. As it turns out, she briefly informs you that there’s a meteor shower tonight. It was Mona you’re talking about, so of course you’d trust her words.

“I heard there’s a meteor shower tonight,” You explain. “It reminded me of when my parents gave me mora to toss in the fountain in exchange for a wish, I guess.” And to that statement, Diluc’s lips faintly tugged upwards. You reminisce back to when you were just a small child, when Mondstadt seemed so much more peaceful compared to now. The idea seemed rather childish now.

“Do you want to check it out?” He says, head facing the sky to look up to the stars. When he says that, your eyes light up accompanied by a bright smile.

“Well…it’s true that I haven’t seen one in a while. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out.” You say, trying not to sound overly-excited. You clutch your bag tightly, fiddling with the strap.

“We’re not too far from Cape Oath.” Diluc mentions so quickly that if you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have missed it. Nobody is out this late anyway, so it’d be a nice break from all the battling the two of you have been facing.

“Then let’s go to Cape Oath!” Suddenly, you realize the implications of the two of you going to Cape Oath—‘The Lovers’ Oath’—together.

After a few seconds, it hit you. “Ah,” You mumble under your breath. “Maybe we should just stay here to watch?” You turn back to him, desperately trying to avoid any misunderstandings and awkwardness. He looks at you and tilts his head innocently, seemingly confused as to why you’d change your mind so fast. He stares at you as you try to explain yourself without making it obvious you were a flustered mess. It doesn’t work very well, as your hands begin to fiddle with the strap of your bag once again. Your eyes dart around as words just seem to pour from your mouth, neverending.

After some more sputtering from your side, Diluc lets out a soft laugh. He clearly put two and two together in the time you tried, and failed, to explain yourself, understanding why you’d want to stay put instead.

“It’s okay,” He smiles at you and begins to walk towards Cape Oath, gesturing for you to follow. You quickly catch up to him, the grass crunching quietly beneath your feet. After several minutes of walking in silence, Diluc points out a light in the sky.

He seemed to frown, “It started already.” Diluc purses his lips, looking back at you. Though, it’s hard to tell when he’s actually frowning since his resting face always seems to be so…somber.

“Isn’t it good that it started so early?” You ask, curiously. You looked up at the sky, shards of space rock shooting down into Teyvat.

He stops in his tracks and turns to you. “You were quite excited to see this meteor shower.” He glances back to the sky, admiring it for a few seconds before looking toward Cape Oath. He seems to be lost in thought, brows somewhat furrowed and squinting toward your destination.

“We’re still seeing it, aren’t we?” You were never a believer in ‘special locations’ that much. Superstitions didn’t make sense to you. After all, is fate really real? What matters is that you live the life the way you want, right?

He stopped in his tracks, finally turning back to you. “You wanted to see it at Cape Oath, no?”

But he was right. Cape Oath was a scenic area, and it would definitely be a better view than in the middle of nowhere. Just imagine: The meteor shower filling the sky with dozens of warm tones as the color is reflected into the large body of water below the cliff as you’re surrounded by greenery.

“Well, yes. But it’s not much of a difference. Besides, you’re here with me and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” Diluc’s eyes widen for a second and look away from you.

“We can still make it if we run.” He mutters to himself. It was just the beginning of the show, it definitely hasn’t gotten to the best part yet. As the shower continues, you grab his arm out of sheer impulse.

“Then…let’s go.” You weren’t exactly sure why you did what you did, but you did it. You dashed across the grassy plains, feeling the grass crunch beneath your feet. You felt Diluc being pulled along with you before he finally managed to balance himself again, running with you. You felt the wind brushing past your face with each step you took, covering a large distance in a short time. You felt your breath getting irregular and your throat felt dry, but you didn’t stop.

Your eyes weren’t focused on the meteor shower anymore, just on your destination—Cape Oath. You looked back at Diluc occasionally, the two of you rushing toward the cliff with no words exchanged. Perhaps it was to save some breath, or perhaps it was the fact that there were no words left that needed to be said.

Luckily, the two of you weren’t that far from the cliff. It was only a few minutes of nonstop, high-speed running. But before the two of you know it, you've arrived at the cape. Panting from all the running, you immediately fall onto your knees, your legs were provided a somewhat soft yet rough landing by the vast field. A few dandelions surrounded your being, a few crushed under your leg. The broken stems left a trail of water dripping down your lower leg down to your ankle.

Still catching your breath, you finally speak. “You were right, Cape Oath really is a good spot for this stuff.” You lean back, your palms flat on the ground. Diluc gives a quick nod before sitting down again. His breathing is quiet, but he’s definitely panting. You find it a little silly as to how he would try to hide the simple fact that he’s tired. After all, anyone would be.

“Did you make a wish?” You break the silence again, catching Diluc off guard. Your gaze is stuck to the sky, the bursts of colors before your very eyes.

“Yeah,” As you were about to ask what it was, you remember your parents saying that the wish won’t come true if you say it out loud.

“Did you?” He asks, finally turning to look at you.

“I did, but I’m not telling you.” You turn to him as well, giving him a cheeky smile.

“Of course,” He closes his eyes for a split second before they flutter open once again just to take in the view. Together, just near the edge of the cape admiring the spectacle that nature staged for Mondstadt, there’s a comfortable silence that can't be broken between your pair.

[sunlightamed]

.         albedo / / @spidergourmet asked,

albedo has never needed a special day to treat klee accordingly. even so, the festivities and merriment make a golden foiled gift feel all the more magical. he squats to klee's height, a gloved arm beckoning her closer—the other arm waits patiently behind his back, seconds away from revealing the surprise of the hour.

"happy lantern rite, klee." albedo draws out a red pocket, presenting it to his younger sister. "i think red quite suits you. did you know? it's the color of a hero, of sparks, and particularly in liyue... of 'luck'. just like your clovers."

just like everything that has led him to here. there could be no greater fortune than what she has given him. ten, a hundred, a thousand, a hundred thousand mora has nothing on it.

"now, make sure not to spend it all in one place, yes?" a palm cups the side of her head—albedo's language of doting is silent like snowfall, but certain as the imprint of footprints left in its powdery white blanket. "you mustn't forget to indulge yourself, either. i'm very proud of how responsible you've been growing in your adventures."

received: albedo's red pocket! a weighted crimson envelope packed even heavier with mora. 100,000 mora, to be exact. happy lantern rite!

little sun was almost too eager to be anchored by her other half, smiling from cheek to cheek, her chest rising in uneven breaths as she panted and tried to collect herself before her brother. after all, running to and fro in a game of chase with the other children of the harbor surely put her out of breath! but no matter how breathless, how dizzy with excitement, this mage's gaze immediately stuck to the arm albedo kept extended behind him. round, bright eyes narrowed, her mouth opening to maybe exclaim her surprise before all of her attention is pulled back to his face. to his smile, mainly.

thus, she giggled, tawny skin flushing merely from excessive joy as she nodded, "happy lantern rite, big brother! i━━" but a gasp interrupted her; her gasp, to be specific. a red pocket was raised to her gaze, bright and golden and full and hers! all hers!! klee squealed and hopped on the tips of her boots, anchored only by the hand albedo gently had on her arm, keeping her close enough within the invisible bubble of their conversation.

her first red envelope of the year! or, well, that's how the tradition went... but! it was a first! klee giggled until the mirth trembled her shoulders and her voice spilled into the sweetest fit of laughter, her arms outstretched, not to reach for the envelope, but instead for her brother. she practically tripped into his arms, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck and trapping the crimson pocket between their bodies.

"klee knows! klee knows! mama said she knew red would be my color ever since... well! ever!" little sun held him closer, laughing against his skin until she pulled back, still smiling, still bright. gloved hands carefully took the crimson envelope, holding that, too, close to her chest as she swayed on dizzy feet. a softer fit of laughter slipped from her at the touch of albedo's hand against her head, thus, she pressed back into the embrace.

klee's assurance came in the form of little uh-huhs and happy mhms. she nodded, "i promise! klee will be diligent with this." but her promise came too early, as albedo hadn't finished. and, when he did, his words left her in a silent, wide-eyed state. she blinked, rapidly, bright eyes unable to fathom what he had said.

but then, little sun laughed, a small sound, glancing away albeit nervously, kicking her foot against the wood of the harbor beneath them. "oh, big brother..." she whispered, clutching onto the red pocket as though it were him, hugging it to her chest until she remembered that, unlike her parents, he was tangible; kneeling before her with a gentle smile.

so, once again, klee embraced him, arms around his neck and head bowed slightly. laughter hadn't left her, still prominent as she said, "thank you, 'bedo! thank you so much! klee's grown so much and learned so many things and it's all because of you! well, most of it. hehe, i can't forget about the other knights." when she pulled away, it was to press a quick kiss to his cheek, before ultimately remaining in the embrace. "klee can't wait to buy so many souvenirs with this... and, oh! maybe we can take a trip to fontaine and buy some of their gear! have you seen this lady━━very pretty and blue━━who..."

[coffeeandmagicaltales]

The Auror & The Devil part 19

AesopSharpxadultMC, no disclaimer

Aesop knew perfectly well that if he took even a few days off, he would completely break down. He was struggling, feeling terrible, and the pain in his leg was increasing, but... After a few days, he simply gave up and concluded that this was his fate and he had to endure it, somehow learn to function with it.

He wandered alone through the forbidden forest and marshes. His heart still bled, he constantly thought about Morana, catching himself looking for her during dinner in the great hall. Once on a Saturday, he absentmindedly prepared sandwiches for her, accustomed to her coming to him hungry without breakfast exactly at that time... He cried for hours afterward, unable to control himself.

He had the horrible feeling that what he felt was some form of mourning, even though Mora hadn't died... She had, however, disappeared from his daily life, leaving a cruel emptiness in her wake, she was gone. He felt uncomfortable with the thought that he had fallen in love with her. Professor Fitzgerald's words hurt him deeply; she had scolded him like a student who didn't know that what he had done was inappropriate and improper. He realized the mistake he had made by burying his professionalism for Morana. He didn't need to be reminded of it...

He worried that someone might find out...

He listened for gossip even more attentively, was alert, anxious, slept very poorly, waking from nightmares in which Professor Black summoned him and bluntly told him he was being fired because he knew about his feelings for her, or, Merlin forbid, accused him of being seen having sex with Morana on school grounds, and despite Aesop's denials that it never happened, he was expelled from Hogwarts and publicly humiliated... He woke up screaming, drenched in sweat, trembling with fear, rummaging through his mail, looking for a non-existent reprimand from the Ministry...

It was also painful that he had no one to share his fears with; he was completely alone with his anxieties.

He didn’t want anyone to find out, furious with himself for revealing it to the Guardians in a fit of anger. He didn't have the courage to talk about it even with his mother or the goblins, because they would only worry unnecessarily. He knew he had to occupy himself with something... to return to the life he had before he met that black-haired woman in Fig's office. Somehow not go crazy... Get out of this terrible abyss that had consumed his mind and emotions.

One morning, as he dragged himself to breakfast with no appetite at all, a familiar owl dropped a letter on the table in front of him. He trembled immediately, knowing who the message was from. Before he could pick it up, a few more envelopes fell in front of him, the new Prophet, the "Even Bigger Cauldron" monthly, and he used the moment of commotion and the distraction of other teachers grabbing their mail to hide Morana’s letter deep in his pocket. There was no way he would open it here, fearing what it might contain, expecting a message saying, "I don't want to know you anymore," though there was no reason for that...

The rest of the letters? Some nonsense from the Ministry, which he didn’t even open, correspondence from parents panicking before exams, and... What a surprise... He immediately cut open the envelope addressed to him by Miss Galatea Flint, curious about its contents.

Aesop,

after recent events, I have only now found the strength to apologize for my behavior.

I am terribly ashamed. I had no bad intentions towards you, and I did not mean to hurt you, but that does not mean it didn’t turn out quite the opposite. I have no excuse for my actions, I acted wrongly, and I am ashamed to ask if I can somehow make it up to you. However, I want you to know that if there is a need, I can use my influence in the Ministry as much as I can. Recently, the situation here has been quite tense due to the deaths of Aurors and the suspicion of goblin retaliation for Ranrok’s death. There is talk of some dark magic weapon they are creating... I have taken the liberty of attaching the results, or at least everything I managed to gather about Mr. Moon, who, without the help of some artifact, would still be hiding his lycanthropy. If it weren’t for your instinct and the help of your friend, I probably wouldn’t be here anymore. I ask you to remain vigilant, though.

Not everything seems clear.

Galatea

Aesop moved in surprise and glanced at the hastily written parchment attached to the letter, marked with ink blots, as if Galatea had written it in great haste. "Unknown magic, seems to work similarly to Crucio (?), literally tearing life energy or more specifically the ‘magical essence’ or soul from the victim, only magical creatures (?), I'm not sure, Mr. Moon permanently maimed, torn wounds."

He had mixed feelings towards her, but he didn’t want to label her as "evil." He was above that, and besides, he had made many mistakes in his life that he sincerely regretted to this day, having lost dear friends. Everyone deserved a chance. She had hurt him, but he saw that she was far from immoral and corrupt. She sincerely regretted it and apologized, which was enough for him, despite the disgust he still felt at the thought of her hands on his body. He closed that chapter easily and should have done the same with Morana...

The longer he postponed reading the letter, the more he feared its contents. Even when he had long finished his lessons and it was late, the unopened envelope still lay before him on the desk in the classroom. He stared at it, not knowing how much time had passed, and when, angrily, he decided that reading the letter shouldn’t be difficult, fear quickly overtook him again. He frantically arranged scenarios in his head of what Morana might have written, most often imagining that for some reason she had learned from the Guardians about his feelings and was ordering him to disappear from her life...

Trembling all over, he finally cut open the envelope, and almost immediately, a shining black feather fell out of it. He was sure it belonged to her.

Aesop,

The flight went without any problems, though I got caught in a snowstorm. A flock of wild ravens, whom I befriended, helped me get out of it. I got a bit lost on the way and only arrived two days ago. It seems the Ministry forgot to inform that I had transferred schools, and only those enrolled at Durmstrang know where the castle is... There was some confusion. The castle is truly beautiful, but it can't compare to Hogwarts... Well, one of the pluses is that there are many more Slavs here, a few people even come from the vicinity of Nitra, but once again, I am the 'new' and have to learn the local customs... So far, I am making nothing but blunders, no one here speaks English, barely any German, and the Durmstrang welcome is rather chilly, perhaps because everyone is focused on the exams that I had already passed at Hogwarts... I have been told that due to my age, I will be treated more as an intern in one of the senior professor's workshops, an assistant...

I definitely plan to learn more about ancient Magic, on the way I saw many sources, abandoned castles that could have been created by people like me... Don't worry, I won't abuse diffindo, if trouble comes, I still have your marvellous potions.

I know I haven't been myself lately, probably because everything overwhelmed me... I hope that being far away from it all, everything will somehow work out.

I don't know how to thank you for everything... In the envelope, you will find a small token imbued with protective magic, you could say it's a kind of amulet. The spells, whose words I cannot reveal, I have learned come from my homeland, they are very old and will serve you well. I've heard various disturbing rumors that are hard for me to believe... Goblins are not likely planning any attack, the Ministry is clearly afraid to admit that they are dealing with someone dabbling in dark magic. They are probably doing everything to avoid causing panic... I don't know what to think, I just want you to be safe, and the only dark magic you’d have to deal with at Hogwarts would be a biting toilet into which Garreth poured the contents of his cauldron.

Yours,

Silly Bird

Aesop stared blankly at her signature, overwhelmed by a flood of thoughts and feelings. He took the feather in his hand, watching the candlelight glint off its iridescent colors. He stroked it, feeling its familiar softness under his fingers, then brought it to his lips and kissed it. Immediately, he smelled the scent of malt and herbs. He sank into the chair, clutching Morana's feather to his chest.

Even though he wanted to, he probably couldn't close that chapter of his life. He felt both relief and terrible pain, anger that she had written at all... And foolishly, after pocketing the gift, he began to write a reply.

“May I interrupt?” He heard Mrs. Weasley's voice as she knocked hesitantly on his classroom door. “I know it's late, but you weren't in your room...”

“No, no, it's ok... What happened?” he asked, quickly hiding Morana's letter with a flick of his wand. The woman's expression was very somber, and he became worried. “What happened?” he repeated.

“Did you read the letter from the Ministry?” Surprised, he shook his head. Matilda pulled out a piece of paper, adjusted her glasses, and began to read. Her voice was breaking.

Dear Faculty,

This year, the application rules for the position of Aurors have been changed, and the recruitment will only be a necessary formality. Graduates will not have to take internal exams at the Ministry and will only undergo a few weeks of training. Please encourage students to take advantage of this opportunity. This decision has been approved by the Minister of Magic, who has unofficially declared a state of emergency due to the growing threat from the Goblin community, which must remain strictly confidential. The letters are secured with tracking spells, and we will know if anyone reveals this, with the expected penalty being a minimum of one month in Azkaban.

We cannot afford a repeat of the rebellion sparked by Ranrok. Currently, his scattered ranks are regrouping into smaller factions led by self-proclaimed leaders experimenting with dark magical artifacts to create powerful curses.

I also inform you of the immediate recall of all retired Aurors to the reserve, which will transition from dormant to active duty in the event of a worsening situation. This applies irrevocably to all former Aurors and, for now, will remain a formality as there is no immediate need for radical action.

Teachers are requested to remain vigilant and report any deviations from normal student behavior, limit the time students spend outside the School's walls to the absolute minimum. The same applies to visits to Hogsmeade.

Sincerely,

Chief Constable

Vincent Ærinbjørn Fromm

Aesop froze.

“Encourage the students!?” he growled after a moment of silence. “Have they completely lost their minds!? It’s a certain death sentence for those fresh out of school. No, Matilda, I won’t be a part of this, even if I have to fail everyone this year without reason, I... I refuse to comply, do you understand!?”

Matilda nodded sadly and patted him on the shoulder.

“Parents’ ambitions won’t be diminished by this...” she admitted sadly. “They’ll think it’s a great opportunity, not knowing the Ministry’s true intentions and the issues with the lack of Aurors...”

“I’ll tell everyone, damn it!” Aesop stood up abruptly, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his knee. “I’ll go to Azkaban for a month, so be it! But they must know that...”

Matilda pointed her wand at him.

“I won’t let my best friend fall into the hands of the Dementors! One more step and I’ll erase your memory!” she shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re not a Gryffindor to play the hero, Aesop!”

“What am I supposed to do then!?”

“I don’t know, I really don’t...” Matilda sank onto one of the stools at the students' desks and sighed deeply. “Use your Slytherin brain!"

“We should call a staff meeting... Professor Hecat will surely have something to say about this, it’s worth thinking it over together...” Aesop leaned against the edge of the table, his hand slipping into his pocket to absentmindedly stroke the feather. “The only thing we can do is effectively discourage the students from joining... I see no other way but sabotage.”

Matilda nodded.

“What do you think about all this?”

Aesop shrugged.

“It’s definitely not the goblins. I spoke with Torq two days ago. The Bank is fortified by wizards, the Aurors are quite aggressive... Both sides are scared. One reckless move and it could get ugly. They can’t reach an agreement... I think someone is benefiting from this chaos. The Ministry knows this and prefers to cover it up rather than cause more panic... Or they prefer to have ‘some’ culprit rather than ‘none.’ Maybe they’re conducting some secret investigation, Singer hasn’t said a word, the sneaky snake has some good connections.”

Matilda nodded and added after a moment.

“Aesop, what if... What if they summon you?”

Aesop took a deep breath and shrugged. He really didn’t know what to expect, but he doubted that anyone would need him, a cripple, as he would only hinder the work. He reassured her, nothing bad will happen.

Matilda stayed with him for a while longer and then went to rest in the Faculty tower.

Aesop still had his night watch in a few minutes. He sat at his desk, lost in thought. He took out a parchment and began to write. '

Silly Bird!

You have no idea how helpless and lonely I feel without you. Without my best friend, the only person who would know how to advise us in a difficult situation... You would probably come up with some crazy and dangerous idea, which would definitely include a few of my stolen explosive potions, at least one dragon, and probably Miss Sweeting as company. You have no idea how much I’d love to be part of such a mad escapade, even as Madame Niffleur...

I miss you.

Things are going badly. The Ministry is doing everything it can to hide someone dangerous from the wizarding society, probably out of their own pride. They can’t show that they have lost control of the situation, that some wizard has slipped through their fingers. It’s not someone previously known... Or they’ve been hiding cleverly... My intuition suggests a few scenarios, but they are just guesses for now...

The investigation, some goal, is the only thing that still convinces me that I am worth something. And maybe my duties to the school... I want to feel at least a bit needed. My place is at Hogwarts, especially now, when things are getting dangerous again.

Would... Would you like to visit me someday? Maybe come over for the holidays, if it wouldn’t be a bother?

I have so many things to tell you. Things that shouldn’t be written down. Although I’ll probably burn this letter. It will never reach your hands.

I’ve fallen in love with you.

It sounds awful, I know, but I couldn’t control my feelings for you. I don’t know when I realized it, probably very late; suddenly I stopped seeing you as a student and saw Morana—the woman I would want with all my heart to call 'my beloved', to be her partner, to serve her with my advice, my help, to be close, to spoil her... I’d give anything to be your family.

I don’t know what the future holds. I have bad premonitions. With your departure, a part of me has died.

Forever yours,

Aesop

The letter immediately burst into flames and turned to ashes.

Morana sat in the middle of the floor surrounded by unpacked suitcases. Overwhelmed.

She didn’t know where to start, feeling the weight of the letter that had flown a few days ago with her owl to Aesop. She glanced at the fireplace to make sure that the other letter she had written first, along with the words of the spell she had cast on the feather, whose visible words still read “...may it protect him from evil and death, I beseech by my love for him. I beseech with magic...,” had turned to dust.

Well, she had achieved her goal. The world of Ancient Magic was open to her, surrounded by people from her region, and she had immediately received a well-paying position... She shouldn’t feel like an outsider here.

Why didn’t that feeling disappear?

Why did she still feel ‘incomplete’? What had gone wrong?

After all, all her sorrows, longings, and passions were thousands of kilometers away... The thought twisted her stomach, and she glanced at the fireplace once more. The die was cast, she couldn’t go back, it was better for everyone this way. In her dreams, she increasingly saw herself walking a dark path, led by the glow of Aesop Sharp’s Patronus trotting ahead of her... She felt so safe with him... As if Aesop knew she needed to find her way through the darkness and sent her a part of himself... She had no idea if it would actually work, or if it was some open-to-interpretation vision showing how desperately she wanted to be close to him.

With a heavy heart, she got up from the floor and glanced at the upcoming schedule... She had two days off and didn’t intend to waste time sitting in the castle. It was time to occupy her mind with why she had come here.

She unfolded the maps of Europe, marking probable sources of magic in Norway, near the castle. However, she felt she would only find trolls and a few old books with knowledge she had already acquired at Hogwarts. Her gaze also fell on a marked spot much lower, in Central Europe, “NITRA.”

She had spoken with Slovaks from those areas, and they all knew the Witch of Gymes Castle. They knew she was a Muggle and couldn’t explain what her ‘magic’ was, but it seemed to work. Morana opened the narrow window, letting a gust of icy air into her chamber, and stood on the windowsill before throwing herself into the abyss, easily transforming into a raven. A long journey awaited her.

The Witch might still know a lot. Her instinct told her that this was where she needed to look, or at least that’s where Aesop would have started.

Something Wicked was coming this way, she was dead certain.

End of part 19, thanks for reading!

[starliit]

Mental Illness.

CONTENT WARNING for mentions of substance / drug use, alcoholism, suicidal ideation & a near - suicide attempt - along with a general analysis of several mental illnesses and their effect on kaveh's life.

DISCLAIMER: I believe Teyvat, especially Sumeru, does have diagnoses and/or explanations for some mental illnesses and even some treatments for them. However, for the ease of comprehension I will be referring to diagnoses that exist in the "real world", but would obviously not be known by such names or descriptions in Teyvat. The titles of these diagnoses are not as important as the symptoms they create - which, of course, I will detail in my reasoning.

The earliest evidence of mental illness in Kaveh's life is his ADHD. A predominantly hyperactive-impulsive type, young Kaveh was a child always on the go - running around, talking everyone's ears off - unable to sit still or remain quiet during any waking moment. He would focus intensely on tasks he found interesting (particularly creative endeavors) and rarely on those he did not.

Before his time in the Akademiya, these traits did not usually impair his daily life other than his parents sometimes having to beg him for silence to finish their work. As a student however, the struggle with his disorder became more apparent, Kaveh powerless to stop fidgeting or getting up during his classes (among other issues). Much to his instructors' surprise, these issues would not cause his grades tp flounder due to his interest in his chosen study path and above-average intellect.

Nevertheless, anxiety and depression would make their debut, rising partially out of this untreated ADHD and post-traumatic response to his father's death. He would become overwhelmed with fear about his studies, about his mother's health, and sometimes nothing at all - he just worried. And his early depression would be evident in the development of his guilt at his father's death and some fluctuating interest in his hobbies. At this time, his depression would not impair him as badly as his anxiety.

Tighnari would be Kaveh's saving grace - introducing the scholar to an incense made of a mixed batch of mushrooms and herbs that would calm Kaveh's anxiety enough to function appropriately again. Unfortunately, the substance would be the trigger for Kaveh's first major manic episode. He would not sleep for three days straight, catching up on work and research he had been ignoring. The two thought it was a one-off reaction to a possible bad batch and didn't worry.

What Kaveh would shrug off was the "beginning" of his battle with bipolar disorder.

While it's unknown whether it would be due to his trauma, genetics or something else entirely, his father very likely showed signs of the disorder as well - particularly shown in his reaction to Sachin's consciousness.

Over the next few years Kaveh's mood swings would grow worse. He would try to ignore his mania, enjoying much of its supposed benefits - including but not limited to his increased self-confidence and extreme periods without the need to sleep, Kaveh going several days with maybe an hour or two or none at all. The biggest negative to him would be the signs of excessive & frivolous mora spending long before his debt to Dori. But it wouldn't be until after his episodes that he realized the trouble that the purchases may have caused him.

His depressive episodes would grow deeper, longer and harder to break - particularly in the wake of his mother's absence. Many times he would find himself imagining and even wishing for his own death, either believing it a requisite exchange for his father's death or simply hating himself enough to wish for an end. He's only had one near-attempt - the night after the Withering destroyed every bit of work on the first attempt of the Palace of Alcazarzaray. The night he decided he would give everything to finish the project.

While his mood swings continue to bother him, time has taught him better coping skills and moving in with Alhaitham has helped ground him some leading to some more stability than he's been used to.

(Dis)Honorable Mention: He would start drinking a few months after his mother was married in Fontaine, but the more his mood swings have gotten out of control - the more it's become a problem and the more likely one would call it alcohol abuse. He does not currently believe it is a problem despite being called out by his friends for some of his actions - particularly day drinking after getting irritable with a client.

[liminalpsych-in-teyvat]

Notes for A Matter of Duty - Chapter 17 - Like a fish to water

The patron had kissed him—hesitant at first, then sharp with yearning. Lost in the memory, Thoma drew a finger across his lower lip. Softly, gently, like the patron’s first shy fumblings. He traced his upper lip too, remembering the touch of a stranger's on his own, and wondered. Wondered about the texture of a beauty mark, and the taste of his lord's mouth.

Thoma has twenty days to get information out of a prisoner before Ayato takes over the interrogation. Twenty days to spare Ayato from losing more of himself. He throws himself into the investigation with a desperate will.

- - -

Aaand we're back! I give up on estimating how long things are going to take; I should know better by this point. However, my frantic writing deadlines are done. I was writing every spare minute for the past 2-3 months for a project that finished up in late Feb/early Mar (and went really well!) and it's finally over, so I can put my focus back on Genshin fanfic.

Any guesses as to who Thoma's patrons were? The Liyue sailor and the Liyue merchant are both actual Genshin NPCs.

This chapter was a bit of an experiment. I'm not sure if it worked or not, but I needed to get through a lot of plot points very quickly and didn't want to spend *tons of chapters* doing so.

(I might write out some of the more interesting Sakura-za scenes in a spinoff at some point. You know... this fic was originally meant to be kinky porn with some angst, and some handwaved plot in the background. Now I keep cutting out the porn because it'd bog down the plot. Siiigh.)

Back to a more traditional format next chapter. Thanks to: PancakeBeast for beta reading, and the Hidden Akasha Records discord for all the general support!

Notes and references:

Characteristics of Japanese block-printed books in the Edo period: 1603-1867: This is mostly for block-printed books, though I don't see why blank journals would be constructed any differently. (Also some nifty stuff on a particular book binder's books.)

Sugoroku: Probably dice games were more popular by this point, but board games have a certain sedateness to them that's valuable for conversation—yet I didn't want to use something too cerebral like shōgi or Go, so sugoroku it is.

My math. Conversion rates grabbed off of... some forum thread or another; fees for actors sourced from The Great Mirror of Male Love by Ihara Saikaku, a collection of m/m short stories published in 1687.

- Sleeping with apprentice actors cost 1 bu of gold (1/4 ryu of gold, about 25k yen or 170 usd) - $1 USD = 297.52 mora. So 1 bu = 50k mora - 5 ryō of silver = 66,665 yen = 455.98 usd or 423.10 euro = 135k mora for a night with a full fledged onnagata actor of no particular stardom

Studies in Kabuki: Its acting, music, and historical context - Specifically page 46 talking about dance (but I've referenced this whole piece heavily).

Summary of the fic itself with content warnings, tags, etc so you can decide if you want to read it or not before you click on the link.

A Matter of Duty

A year after the death of Ayato and Ayaka's parents, the clan succession is contested from within and without. Kamisato Ayato will do anything—_anything_—to ensure the safety of his family and the stability of his clan.

But powerful supporters come at an unimaginable price. When Ayato's own sacrifices aren't enough, he is forced to involve Thoma in a web of intrigue and exploitation that will push them to the breaking points of their bodies, their minds, and their very hearts.

or: Kushiel's Dart meets Genshin Impact in a quick-scorch-to-slow-burn romantic drama of court intrigue, sexual politics, and sacrifice.

Note: Mind the tags. More specific content warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter, and the story tags will be updated as needed. All characters in sex scenes are adults.

Rating: Explicit. It's porn with plot. Porn as a vehicle for plot, or plot as a vehicle for porn, you can interpret it either way. (I prefer: porn and plot as a vehicle for ~feels~)

Tags that I'm not actually turning into tags here, but it gives you an idea of what you're in for: Kamisato Ayato/Thoma (Genshin Impact), dubious consent but not between Ayato and Thoma, slow burn, sex ed, first time, self-sacrifice, humiliation, exhibitionism, oral sex, anal sex, bdsm, bad bdsm etiquette, rough sex, breath play, impact play, bondage, service kink, abuse, sadism, codependency, shame, guilt, jealousy, possessiveness, trauma, ptsd, dissociation, political sex work, or sex work for political maneuvering, or political survival sex work if that’s a thing, exploitation, blackmail, political machinations, political intrigue, no aftercare, maybe someday some aftercare, hurt/comfort, mostly hurt for a long time but eventually comfort, oblivious disaster gays, for such socially savvy people they are terrible at personal relationships, dominant Ayato, submissive Thoma, top Ayato, bottom Thoma, Ayato is incredibly parentified, Thoma has no sense of self-preservation, self-sacrifice isn't a contest but don't tell Ayato and Thoma that, it's like the snipe-the-check game at restaurants but with sex and politics, Kushiel's Impact, no really this was in my drafts for the longest time as Kusheline Thomato Fic, everyone's an adult in this timeline except Ayaka, she gets protected at all costs, original characters out of necessity, finding appropriate existing Inazuma npcs for some of these roles was impossible

Full fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47604337?view_full_work=true

Chapter 17 - Like a fish to water

Thoma has twenty days to get information out of a prisoner before Ayato takes over the interrogation. Twenty days to spare Ayato from losing more of himself. He throws himself into the investigation with a desperate will.

Chapter contains: sex work, bdsm

[multifandom1writer]

Genshin Impact brainrot!

I've had this idea for years and I'm gonna write it now cause I wanna and I have free time.

2nd person cause I realized I hate writing in 1st person (thanks to the previous post, go check that out btw, also, STOP SCREAMING AT ME IM WORKING ON PART 2 GODDAMINT)

You had been a bounty hunter since you knew how to walk, your parents taught you everything there was to know, how to haunt, stalk, attack and kill.

You knew every way of killing and how to kill.

From rabbits and frogs, to beasts and humans, there was not a single thing that could escape your hands.

Therefore you made your way up in the ranks till you became part of the top 3.

However you did have a more kind and caring side to you.

You found love and raised a family, and now you've had a lovely husband and son for hundreds and thousands of years, being inmortal had its perks.

You had your job and your love, two things you'd like to keep very far away from each other.

Your husband was none other than Mora- I mean, Zhongli, former god of contracts and archon.

You met him hundreds of years ago in the aftermath of a mission

You were wounded and hurt, walking for miles and miles of snow in a deserted mountain.

Gripping your arm in a futile effort to stop the intense bleeding in your arm.

Wounded and hurt you walked and walked, not any closer to home than when you started your journey.

Your immortality only made the travel harder, walking and walking the blood in your veins never ending.

You felt it, deep in yourself, your soul, it wasn't ever going to let you go.

Suddenly, a man came out of the mist of snow, he was dressed in beautiful golden and white robe, beautiful long hair tied behind him.

You knew the man before you was no shorter of an Archon.

You could feel it in the way he just looked at you.

Suddenly he reached his arm forward, signaling for you to take it, so you did

Slowly all the pain seemed to flow out of your body, warmth enveloping your every being, overstimulating your mind and brain, fainting from the calloused feeling of peace.

Slowly you had woken up back home, everyday since then he came and visited you.

Shortly after, he started talking and soon enough you guys became friends.

Friends to partners, partners to lovers and lovers to soulmates.

You readied your matching sickle blades and stored them in your pockets.

-"I'm heading out"- you spoke and kissed your husband's forehead as you walked to the door.

-"best of luck"- said Zhongli from behind you, drinking some tea.

-"Where's Xiao?"- you asked, fixing your black collar.

-"Who knows where he is these days..."- sighed your husband.

You chuckled at him and gave him one last kiss before heading out.

You spent your day picking out bounty's and picking up your reward, sometimes being hired for a small job or two.

You were walking home when a Fatui guard stopped you.

-"Anything I can help you with?"- you murmured while glaring at the guard.

He only handed you a note and spoke

-"if your still interested meet me tomorrow at 6pm here."- he spoke in a low voice before walking off.

You simply hid the note in your pocket and walked home.

You didn't really have any grounds to reject him, hence you've worked a lot of jobs for the Fatui before, much to your husbands, and sons, dismay.

You opened the door and was greeted with a lovely smell of tea and food.

-"I'm home!"- you yelled out, maybe for now you can forget about the note.

You had a lovely dinner with your husband, surprisingly your son also stopped by so it was a great time all around.

Now came the dreadful moment where you'll have to read the note.

You hated working for the Fatui because normally it can get very messy.

(Plus your husband would kick your ass when you got home)

You opened it and read it carefully.

"Dear Bounty Hunter,

Greetings, how have you been?, We have another job we'd like to hire you for, surely you've heard all about the traveler, recently their missions and request have gotten in the way of our plans, and as much as we didn't want it to come to this, we decided we want you to end his life, as always the details will arrive later, but so that you decide this is worth your time, the pay will be much higher than any other job you've received from us.

All the best, Bounty Hunter.

- Fatui Harbingers"

You sweat dropped as you fisnihed reading the note, you knew exactly who they were talking about, after all he had made quite a name for himself, but to the point they want you to kill him?

It was insane, what's also insane is the thought of you actually considering it, the Fatui have always paid you high amount of mora, so much so that it came to the point you didn't have to work for a month or two.

And with that much of a raise, and how they pride themselves on how they pay in full everytime, you had no doubt in your mind they would follow through on their promise.

You sighed and put the letter away weighing the cons and pros of this whole thing, tomorrow you made your final desición.

Sooner than you would've liked morning came and you were getting ready to leave.

You heard Zhongli in the shower and sneakily grabbed the letter, making your way outside, screaming a -'See you later!'- to Zhongli before heading out.

You let the day run it's course and soon enough 6pm rolled around.

You tapped your foot impatiently waiting for the guard from yesterday to come around.

He came into view and you stood up straight.

He bowed and spoke -"sorry for being late, they didn't think you'd show"- he said.

You scoffed and replied -"whatever, just show me the details"- this was the last test, the last guarantee on wether you should take the job or turn the other way.

You read the letter and you knew, your brain had made a choice in no less than a second.

'1,600,000 Mora as payment'

You put the note away and looked at the guard, stretching out your hand.

-"Deal, lead me to him"- The guard smirked and shook your hand leading the way.

The traveler was wondering alone, he got a mystery commission and decided to take it.

He was walking in a humid cave, Paimon behind him commenting on every thing she saw.

He heard footsteps coming closer, and turned around pulling out a sword.

Soon enough you came into view, the traveler looked at you slowly.

You had messy brown short hair, black under liner, a sleeveless black turtleneck, with a chain going from shoulder to shoulder, Morax's sigil on each side, black military pants and matching combat boots, deadly sickle blades rested on each side of your waist hanging on by your belt.

You looked at him up and down, his grip on his sword never wavering or flattering.

-"Who are you"- he spoke as he looked at your unresponsive self.

-"I don't think it'll matter"- you muttered, getting closer to him

-"Why won't it matter?"- he spoke stepping away as you took a step closer

-"When your dead."- you spoke in a raspy voice, blades coming down on his sword, breaking it.

He cursed under his breath and threw the sword away, Paimon grabbing him by his side and lead him away, having realized who you are.

You grumbled lowly -"I hate it when they run"- you muttered and chased after them.

You chased him through the cave, coming close a few times, cuts and bruises littered his form, yet his pace never stopped.

Soon enough you reached the end of the cave, he fell and Paimon fell to the floor crying into the travelers chest.

You clinked your weapons together, sparks flying off because of the friction.

-"This was fun, sadly it won't be happening again"- you said, bringing your blades down.

He yelled something however, a name, as you went for the kill, one you didn't hear that well.

When your blades were supposed to meet with flesh they collided with another weapon.

You didn't bother looking at the travelers saviour before kicking them away.

Glaring as you stood straight, the figure helping the traveler up.

You decided to glare at them ready to attack.

However your moves came to a stop as you recognized the saviour of your enemy.

-"Xiao...?"- you murmured lostly as he took your moment of weakness to teleport somewhere inside the cave.

You grunted as your hunter senses came back, sickles out and looking for the two boys, almost like a predator stalking their prey.

Xiao looked around at the place he teleported them in, he couldn't think straight and he was looking around nervously, just trying to find a way out.

Aether stopped his raggedy movements, worry filled his being at the sight of his friend in such a state.

"Xiao what's wrong? How did that guy recognize you?" Spoke the traveler, softly holding his friends wrists

Xiaos breathing was fast and uneasy as his eyes centered on Aether.

He hugged him tightly, tears spilling.

-" your alive! Oh my archons your alive"- he spoke, worry and anxiety filled his very being at his words.

-"what do you mean?"- Asked the traveler pulling away from him.

-"The man you encountered is no one short of a god, he's powerful, fast, strong, smart and most importantly, he can never be killed."

-" He's had many names through the pass of time, Bounty Hunter, Karma's blade, Blood god, many many names, he's killed thousands, kings, Gods, beasts, creatures, everything, if you ever encounter him, you aren't getting out alive,"-

Worry filled aether's veins as he stared wide eyed at him.

-"But we may have a chance of getting out of this alive"-

-"If all those people you spoke of died how do we have a chance?!"- whisper-yelled Aether.

-"Because..."- He stopped in his sentence before making eye contact with Aether, his breathing finally calming down

-"Because he's my dad"- he spoke, eyes directed to the floor in sadness.

-"but isn't Zhongli your dad?"- asked aether.

Xiao held his hand up and pointed at his middle finger, aether slowly realized.

-"You have two dad's?!"- spoke the traveler at Xiao astosnihed.

Xiao shushed him aggressively putting a finger to his lips.

-"yes! Yes I do!"- he spoke trying to shush the screaming boy.

-"and one of them is trying to kill me.."- dread filled aether's body, the world coming down and crashing on him.

-"Yeah, but the other may be able to help"- murmured Xiao.

Suddenly a bang was heard and you were seen walking through destroyed rocks, eyes red, walking closer to the two of them.

Xiao stepped Infront of aether, getting his weapon out, his mask covering his face.

-"Move aside, you know I'll never hurt you, so don't force my hand"- you muttered gravely at your son, however his stance protecting his friend never moved.

You came closer and closer with each step.

-"C'mon, we even had a lovely dinner the other day, don't make me do this"- soon enough you were face to face with Xiao, your blood colored eyes having died down back to your normal brown ones.

You looked at him with such love Aether would've never believed you were the same person attacking him earlier.

-"please..."- you muttered gently, hand coming up and stroking his cheek through his mask, gentle tears ghosting your eyes at the thought of even hurting your son.

And just for a second, a slim second, Aether thought he might get away with his life after all.

However that hope was broken as Xiao slowly whispered

" 'm sorry...", He jumped and got in a fighting stance.

Your eyes went wide and brown was infected with red as you stared up at him, unsheathing your sickles.

He kicked you away with all his force and ran with Aether .

You had blocked the hit but the rocks around you had not been so lucky, you had bloodshot eyes and sharp fangs adorned your teeth.

You let out a low groan, almost growl like and ran after them in unimaginable speeds.

Destroying everything in your path, not a single nook and cranny left unbroken.

-"XIAO! WHERE ARE YOU?!"- you spoke loudly, voice booming around the cave, panting like a crazy man and acting like an animal.

You heard a clatter and ran over and destroyed the wall from which it came from.

It opened up to a whole new room, crystal shards littered every corner of the place.

Drop!

You looked around, it was silent for a few minutes and you just stood in the center of the room.

You closed your eyes and listened to everything around you.

Silence

Drop!

Silence

Clink

Silence

Crack!

Silence

Got ya'

You turned around and met the fearful eyes of Aether, you turned and ran to them, Xiao's voice cutting through your ears.

-"Move aether! Move!"- he yelled in a futile attempt to save his friend, however it was to late, your blades ran closer and closer, his demise and your reward only a second away from reaching your cold, merciless hand.

Closer and closer.

-'Goodbye Traveler, it was a gun hunt'- you smirked sadisticly at Aether.

-"DAD DON'T-'" spoke your son but you didn't listen to him, he had his hand reached out, tears falling down his face, hoping for his friend to grab it.

Everything seemed to go in slow mo.

BOOM!

It echoed through the room and the cave.

You stood up, out of it, while holding your head.

Your weapons laid coldly at your side.

You picked them up but didn't look the other way.

-"Teaming up against me now?..."- you spoke lowly, almost hurt and broken.

You knew that blast no matter where you went, the gentle sprinkle of gold around you only proving you right.

-"Zhongli, my love, why are you defending this boy?"- you spoke, turning your head and glaring at your husband and son, defending the traveler.

Your hungry, bloodthirsty red eyes met his own brown, calm and collected ones.

-"What curse has befallen you to the point you'd hunt a lost boy looking for his sister?..."-

Zhongli spoke, disbelief in his words as he looked at you wide eyed.

-"Why should I care? I don't even know his name..."- you grumbled slowly walking towards Zhongli.

-"and yet you hunt him like a wild dog...what happened to my husband? Because you are not him"- he spoke firmly, tears in his eyes.

-"I don't tend to mix work and my personal life, but don't worry darling, once I kill that stupid boy you'll never have to see this side of me again, and with the pay I'm receiving I'll be able to help out around the house for months!, Doesn't that sound lovley?"- you chuckled darkly walking closer to him, fangs and eyes on show as you walked closer to him.

You stopped Infront of him, looking down at his face, him looking up at you.

-"let's just forget about this yeah? Go home, I'll be back later."- you smiled intoxicatingly sweet at him.

-"no..."- he said.

-"no?"- you wondered at him.

-"then why waste my time."- you spoke bitterly at him, smile dissapearing as you looked down.

-"To distract you."- you turned around and aether and Xiao we're no longer there.

Turning to see Zhongli only to find he was no longer there as well.

You screamed out of frustration and looked around to see any sign to where they might have gone.

-"MORAX!"- echoed through the cave.

-"Traveler, I am trying to understand but the chances of this happening were almost impossible."- spoke Zhongli as he slowly helped the two of them up the cave and outside.

-"I'm just as lost as you are..."- spoke aether, his brain still processing everything.

-"We need to help him! If it wasn't thanks to us he would be dead!"- spoke Xiao running ahead of Aether and to his dad.

-"I am aware, but I do have a plan, my husband is very strong, stronger than the whole world, we may not be able to defeat him, but we may be able to get Aether away from here with his life."-

To which Aether responded to Zhongli

-"I'd think if I want to get away it'd be with my life thanks"- he muttered looking down at the ground wide eyed.

-"I won't promise anything, let's draw him in once we get to the top of the cave, there we'll hide the traveler and me and Xiao will try to speak with him"- said Zhongli guiding the group, decing on the plan.

You had been looking for a hot minute yet there was no sign of any of them.

It was moments like these were you cursed Zhongli's sneakiness.

Suddenly you heard some steps above and smirked.

'Rookie mistake'

You climbed your way on top, fast and unscathed

You landed on the hard rock and looked at the night sky, looking for any of the three.

-"Dad."- you turned around quickly and Xiaos form came into view.

-"Got tired of running from dear old dad?"- you laughed bitterly at him.

-"Don't patronize our son dear"- Zhongli spoke from beside you.

You laughed and walked backwards.

-"What, you came up with some amazing plan to take me down? Is that what this is?"-

You chuckled bitterly running a hand down your face.

-"Why?"- you spoke, both Xiao and Zhongli staying quiet and looking at you.

-"Why are you wasting so much time and effort on this- this- this boy!"- you spoke, disgust and surprise in your voice.

-"That 'boy' helped me and saved me, I owe him everything"- spoke Xiao, standing up to you.

You looked at him but before you could respond Zhongli decided it was his turn to speak.

-"He's right you know? That boy is powerful, he is a person with a lot of value and will, he's the means to an end! And your willing to throw that away just for a few more Mora in your pocket?"- spoke Zhongli staring at you in disbelief

-"I've killed millions and thousands, little boys and little girls, father's and mother's, grand parents and even Gods..

What does one gifted boy have that they didn't?"- you muttered through gritted teeth and hate.

Not at your family but at everything else that made you fight against them

Zhongli scoffed and looked at you.

-"you think all those kills are something to be proud of? I love you, I truly do, but the demise of someone is not something even the darkest of monsters are proud of..."- muttered Zhongli at you, tears pricking his eyes.

You looked down at him and murmured -"Then I guess I'm a monsters nightmare.."-

Silence enveloped the both of you.

Till you spoke up.

-"Both of you!"- you yelled out

-"You have 5 hours to decide, that boy or me, depending on your answer, this could turn for the better....or the worse."- you muttered walking over to a rock and sitting on it.

Making both Zhongli and Xiao tense up, you smirked and reached down, Aether's long hair in your hand as he was pulled out by your string hand.

You scoffed at him and threw him on the ground.

-"5 hours, that's all you get"- muttering you started sharpening your blade while they went off to talk about what to do.

The time went by painfully slow, slow strokes in order to sharpen your blade were everything that met your ear

Once 5 hours hit you stood up and walked over to them.

-"made your desicion?"- you said looking down at them.

Xiao and Aether straightening their back, Zhongli giving you the same calm and collected look.

-"Yes we have"- spoke your son.

You made a 'Well?' look and Xiao sucked in a breath before speaking.

-"We choose Aether."-

Well shit.

Your eyes widened but you collected yourself

Nodding at the two of them before walking and taking out the letter from your pocket.

They all stared at you in question, wondering what your next move was gonna be.

You pulled out the Fatui card and then a lighter burning it.

It dropped to the ground, slowly creating ashes.

You looked down and shut your eyes tight, bracing yourself for the pain.

The sound of a sword reached your ears, but you didn't even try to fight it.

The sharp object bit through your skin and chest.

You dropped to the ground and coughed up blood, you knew this wouldn't kill you, it couldn't kill you.

But Archons did it hurt like hell.

You looked down to see your blood covered hand and the screams of your son and husband.

You were shaking and while you knew you were going to survive, it did not stop the underlying anxiety.

You felt as two guards came and picked you up, passing out from the pain.

You told them whatever they choose, the outcome would change drastically

Zhongli's eyes widened and he stared at his husband, on the ground in pain, he yelled out to him but Fatui guards came and held him back.

He screamed for you to get up while Xiao was trying to get past them, Aether helping how he could.

Zhongli didn't want to resort to violence, but when he saw two guards have the audacity to grab you and try take you away.

He

Saw

RED.

The battle field was broken and bloody, Xiao laid bloody on one side, helping an innured Aether.

Zhongli softly sang while holding your unconscious body, treating and healing your wounds, just how he did a hundred years ago.

All the Fatui soldiers that had come to take you away now laid dead and bloody around the peaceful man.

His humming just became more tranquil once he finishes his job.

Stroking your cheek with love, looking down at you in his lap with adoration.

He kissed you in the forehead, staying there for a few seconds before rising up and carrying you in his arms.

Mumbling something about 'having a serious talk about your jobs later'

Both of the boys just smiled at the figure of a walking Zhongli, lovingly holding his much larger husband in his arms as he sang and talked with him, even if he was unconscious.

The two of them were clearly made for the other, just a simple interaction and it was clear as day how destiny had aligned their paths.

A God and A killer.

Both of their souls entwined, no matter what happened, what fights and battles they got into.

They were always going to love each other.

Always.

How sweet.

[boundinparchment]

Of Blood and Sparks - VI

Karina Alexandre of Fontaine lost her position, her family, and her Archon's favor. A dead Electro Vision is her mark of guilt. A reminder to never fail again. Faith shattered, and suspicious of the Fatui, she eventually makes her way to Liyue, where she encounters a certain funeral parlor consultant. Little does she know it's only the beginning. Original character centric; eventual Zhongli/OC. Posted originally at @chevalier-of-fontaine. ArchiveOfOurOwn || FF.net || Karina's profile

Her muscles longed to feel the shockwave from her blade hitting something.  Stances and motions were wholly different from exacting force onto a target.  It took more control to end the swing precisely where she wanted, to pay attention to the way her weight shifted.  

But there were only rocks here and she wasn’t about to dull her blade so quickly when the sun was only just beginning to crest.

The edge of the harbor was quiet, save for the lapping of waves and the fluttering of wings.  For the only section of beach near a populated city, it was often deserted, but that worked in her favor.  No one could interrupt her and her thoughts could mute themselves as she focused on breathing, treating her sword as an extension of her arm.

Her fingers ached in a way they hadn’t in years, pricked and tender from holding a needle tightly for too long.  Several days of work had given her a dress and a new shirt and pants but she hadn’t missed the long hours hunching over fabric, tearing out stitches, and hoping she hadn’t messed up when cutting the fabric. 

So much labor for so little.  It was no wonder so many Fontaine ateliers began to take up the machines that were growing in popularity, last she heard.

One of the last business discussions she recalled her parents having was about whether to invest in the foot-pedal version of the stitching machine.  She’d been slow to pick up projects when she returned from her trial and while they were kind to her, even she knew it would hurt the bottom line if deadlines weren’t made.

Hand sewing felt appropriate now, almost as meditative as her footwork.

Neither seemed to help get rid of the image of the man from the other day, however.  No sound was as melodious as his voice and every glimpse of gold paled in comparison.  The very mora in her wallet looked dull if she gave a second (or third or fourth) thought to the glimmering golden gaze from the stranger she only knew as Zhongli.

Liyue Harbor was large.  She doubted they would ever see each other again.  Besides, she was here for work, to start something new.  And that something new didn’t include infatuation.  That’d never gotten her anywhere.

Karina sheathed her sword and began the trek back to the harbor.  She stopped on the outskirts, just where the beach began to end and where the quartermasters’ voices could be heard.  She rested her weapon against a nearby rock and her boots followed suit, placed neatly next to the sheath.  Karina rolled up her pant legs to her knee and then stepped into the ocean, sand pressing between her toes.  The water was frigid, lapping at her ankles as it yielded to the will of the tide.  If she wasn’t awake from the adrenaline running through her veins, she was certainly awake from the icy touch.

On the docks, she could see workers starting their day.  Ships were loaded, unloaded, inventory counted once, and then probably a second time.  Manifests were triple-checked, orders barked from captains as ships began to prepare to head back out to sea, making way for new ships to come in.  

Everything ran like clockwork, well-oiled and perfectly organized.  Predictable.  Like the tide.

Or perhaps more like the Geo Archon the people liked and revered so much. Steady as stone, smoothed down until the perfections were nonexistent.

But every stone had its cracks, its weak-spots, and all it would take would be the right people to exploit them.

Which was why distractions like a certain stranger would do her no good and it wasn’t worth her time.   Usually such people were one in the same.

Even still, she made connections in Mondstadt, and they made time feel a little less numb and empty.  Only a few days of settling in and she was already missing Lisa’s research suggestions, word of Klee’s antics, and the occasional night out at Angel’s Share where familiar faces dotted the space and she was never left feeling as though she didn’t belong.

Something Zhongli’s exchange had given her as well.  He was at least kind and courteous to her and seemed to want nothing out of the conversation other than to help her.  

It wasn’t as if anything much worse could happen.  After all, her family was dead and her powers dormant, probably for good, and she’d never return home.

Perhaps it couldn’t hurt to at least try.  If not with Zhongli, then the next person who at least made the harbor feel a little less strange.

_____________________

The shop was tucked into a quiet street off of the main thoroughfare, nestled between a quiet tea house and a bookstore.  Karina triple-checked the address and smoothed out her dress before stepping inside.  A bell above the door gave a soft jingle as she crossed the threshold.

It felt strange to not have the weight of her sword at her hip and have thin hosiery over her legs instead of pants.  Even stranger to wear something that was both new and of her hand rather than garments that were repaired and well-worn.  Her Vision hung where it always did, heavy against the fabric.  

The entryway was small and narrow, with enough space for a few places to sit and a front desk.  A small set of stairs led to the back of the shop, where Karina could see the platform and mirror where a client would be measured and their clothes pinned, several racks of clothes, and a few doors to what she presumed were changing rooms.

Dark cherry wood dominated and while the space seemed dark at first, it was actually very well-lit in the workspace.  Homey, even.

She never again thought she would consider any other atelier to be as such.

“We’re not open just yet,” a voice called from the back.  “Mr. Yuan makes a fantastic cup of tea next door, if you’d like to come back.”

“Forgive me for intruding, I’m Karina, the new seamstress and assistant.  I thought it prudent to arrive early before clients began coming by.  I sent a note a few days ago.”

She had, although whether her handwriting had been legible from her exhaustion was a different story.

There was a sound of a throat being cleared and then the smaller but unmistakable sounds of work being put down and away.  A tall and slender woman appeared at the top of the short set of stairs, once-dark hair faded with silver streaks pulled back into an older fashion.  

“I’m Jun Lei, the shopkeeper.  I’ll need another example of your handwriting; your letter seemed like it was written by the dimmest light,” the other woman said.  “You came highly recommended, both for your drive to fight and for your experience in tailoring.”

Gray eyes scanned Karina up and down as Jun Lei descended the stairs, still towering over the Fontaine woman by a good few inches.

“From my understanding, you grew up in such a shop and have close to two decades of experience.  With the exception of your military time, of course.  An interesting combination for one from a humble background.”

“I wanted to serve my country and my family.  My skills lay with a sword but I wield a needle well enough, madame.”

“I can see that.  Neat and tidy stitches, careful embroidery on the cuffs and hemline.  Not the approach I would have taken but styles vary.”

A thoughtful hum came from Jun Lei as she took Karina’s hands in hers.  Calloused fingers ran across tender fingertips and roughened palms.  Few parts of her hands were soft, even if she wore gloves when fighting.  

“You’ll do,” Jun Lei released her hands and gestured to the stairs.  “Come, I’ll show you your workstation and we’ll get started on the paperwork.”

[coghive]

Amanda Danziger & Filipe Michael To Release ‘Seasons Instrumental’ January 20

Amanda Danziger and Filipe Michael will release part two of their Seasons EP, titled Seasons Instrumental on Friday, January 20, 2023. The project which initially launched in November was created to emulate cinematic soundscapes, which Danziger describes as devotional worship. “Devotional worship is a place of listening and stillness,” explains Danziger. “Over the years I have written every song I’ve done with my co-writer Filipe Michael, so I wanted to show that we are a team with our latest project Seasons. Filipe is the sole-composer of this project, while I have written the lyrics and melodies. Seasons Instrumental is going to give the listener a completely different experience — you’ll be able to hear all the nuances and creativity my co-writer put into composing Seasons. I hope listeners go into a quiet place for this experience when it releases.” The Seasons In Sound Seasons caps Danziger’s musical journey through the year. Each season she teased listeners with singles included on the album, starting with “Vindicate” for winter, “Prison Walls” for spring and “Refining Fire” for summer. And in the final album release this past November, “Be Still” completed the seasonal journey with fall. Each song in Seasons begins with a distinctive sound to evoke the season. “Vindicate” starts with the rush of a winter storm. Rain and thunder open spring’s “Prison Walls,” and the crackling of a summer campfire introduces “Refining Fire.” For fall, the sound of walking along a leaf-strewn path in the woods begins “Be Still” (pre-save the Instrumental EP here). “Each song is approached in a cinematic style that paints a musical picture of the season,” Danziger shares. With Danziger musically drawing the outline for each song, she relied upon producer and co-writer Filipe Michael to paint in the colors.

“Amanda and I collaborated on this project in a very unique way. Even though we are only separated by a state lines, we worked on this project remotely. Amanda would only provide a vocal track in our sessions and then explain what the song would picture — after that I would take over and compose the project,” explains Mora. “When we would talk on the phone about the project, I told Amanda that I’m ‘painting music.’ This project gave me the fresh air that I needed to think outside the box. Together we created something beautiful.” Collaborating in His name Childhood friends who met in church, Danziger and Michael have been collaborating since 2019, seperated by state lines – Danziger in Pennsylvania and Michael in New Jersey. Working remotely with musical sounds as their primary means of communication, they brought the album together. “Soundscapes are like painting a picture and my part of our collaboration is to bring these visions to life,” Michael says. Adding spice to the soundscapes they create is that both come from multi-cultural backgrounds. “Filipe will joke with me that my melodies don’t sound mainstream, and that’s because of my upbringing. I’m a first-generation American after my parents moved from Egypt in the late 70s. I grew up listening to Arabic music in my home, so I find myself singing in minor keys and experimenting with the sounds of Egypt.” Michael grew up in Sao Paulo, Brazil though they first connected in an Arabic-speaking church. “We used to lead our peers in worship, and from then on, we’ve always known we would create a very special musical piece one day. Seasons is it,” Danziger believes. Recognition After releasing the first song of Seasons with “Vindicate,” Integrity Music recognized the unique contribution that Danziger made in the contemporary worship genre and signed her to a licensing deal through its Integrated Music Rights program. This allowed Danziger to remain an independent artist, but also gain access to a record label infrastructure and opportunities. “The timing was all in God’s hands. I was so excited for this opportunity because it came right in time for the launch of Seasons,” Danziger states. “Seasons is a journey. It is a walk through of an entire year of thoughts, prayers, and life — and I’m grateful to launch this project with the Integrity team. They’ve encouraged us and helped us navigate throughout the entire process.” Read the full article