#lapis' talking corner

[dragonlapis]

I love everything about this card..

But let's not forget about those two in the background doing their own things

A happy day for all...more so Kokoro and Masara! I bet Kokoro's heart is pounding like crazy right now-

[zhongrin]

𒆙 morax

part 6/8 of ⎡∞ / 𝟔 𝟎 𝟎 𝟎 ⁺⎦, a zhongli 2023 birthday event

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

𖧷 tags ┈ minors dni, gn!reader, afab!reader, biting/marking, cockwarming, choking but not really, edging, dirty talk, cervix fucking but not really ‘fucking’-, i don’t know how to tag things help

𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓊 ❬ masterlist ❭ 𐫱 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭

“𝓁ord morax! must you keep branding me with these marks?!”

morax blinked owlishly as you barged into his little office. he would have immediately beheaded others who would dare act so boorish, but your presence - nevermind the fact you were glaring at him - would always be welcomed into even the most private corners of his life, so he merely leaned back on his golden throne, abandoning the papers waiting for his approval as he gazed at you like you were the whole universe. his cor lapis-lined tail coiling behind the chair thumped lightly on the ground as he spotted the tokens he had so graciously placed on your skin.

“…. yes?”

the honest answer seemed to have made you double back. you could tell from his clueless expression that he bore no remorse for his actions.

“i must beseech you to restrain yourself. the adepti dare not even raise their heads when i talk to them!“

“but… unlike minerals and other inorganic materials, your skin heals, so naturally i must renew the imprints every now and then. i cannot fathom what made you so displeased? i have taken precautions so the process would be enjoyable to you at the very least… or are you saying that the act was not pleasurable for you after all?”

you had to resist the urge to facepalm, but you couldn’t help the natural reaction of your cheeks starting to sizzle with warmth. morax’s gentle smile lilted into a slightly cheeky grin, and he beckoned you to come over. you both praised and berated yourself inwardly when you obeyed his command like a faithful pup, knowing to seat yourself on his lap.

“are you not proud to bear the proof that you are mine, my dear? if it truly upsets you, i… will try my best to reign in my instincts. but you know how i always seem to lose myself in the heat of the moment…,” his kisses journeyed from your temple down your neck and shoulder, a silent plea for leniency.

it would have been a sweet and innocent gesture if his hands hadn’t wandered above your silken robes.

“my lord….”

“mmm… i’m sorry, darling, it’s the dragon instincts,” he nuzzled lovingly onto the junction of your neck, and you quickly felt both the heat and his arousal rise. quite literally, that was. “your smell mixed with mine is just too tantalizing to ignore. to illustrate, would you be able to pass by a banquet full of your favored delicacies without salivating?”

“perhaps not, but i would be able to refrain from devouring the whole banquet like some greedy buffoon,” you faked a reprimanding tone, eyebrows raised.

“which proves that you are, in some ways, stronger than me,” his arms tightened around you, geo-lined appendages sneakily slipping beneath your garment to rub your inner thighs, before trailing over your dampened underwear, “though it seems to me that you’re putting up a front…”

you were torn between rolling your eyes or blushing in embarrassment, “perish the salacious thoughts. i came straight from the bedchambers, my lord.”

“ah, so these are both your arousal and the remnants of our passionate love last night? how delightful. no wonder you smell like the most fragrant and mouthwatering delicacy in the whole teyvat,” he pressed his lips on one of the hickeys, staring in contemplation at your body nestled on his lap, an idea brewing like the freshest tea in his mind, “say, darling… i know you’re tired, but won’t you at least let this lovestruck lizard steal a morsel from the figurative banquet? just a little arrangement to tide me over until the moon graces our nation.”

“….. i will consider your proposal; enlighten me.”

you really, really should have thought twice about making contracts with a dragon.

seated snugly on top of your beloved’s lap after he had - far too easily, much to his delight and your fervent embarrassment - eased you onto his cocks, his non-dominant hand poised to lightly rub your abdomen, right on the bulge indicating the way he was all nestled inside your tight heat. his other hand had long since left your hip and was in the process of writing some kind paperwork to ensure the construction of what shall be a prosperous harbor sometime in the far future would be going smoothly — or something along that line. he might have sort of meandered about it as he worked, but alas, you were too distracted to actually listen to his words, clenching and squirming like a bunny in heat instead.

morax hummed. momentarily, he set his pen down against the polished sandbearer wood of his desk. his slender fingers reached up to lightly brush and wrap around your throat. your breath hitched, heart soaring like a hummingbird, cunt trembling. he wasn’t even putting any pressure ー just a light touch. a warning. and yet the message was there; even more pronounced with the verbal warning whispered right beside your ear.

"mind your manners, darling."

you nodded with a whimper, gulping and feeling his fingers lightly caressing your pulse point before they detached themselves from your heated skin to curl elegantly around the pen once more. the deity resumed talking as if whatever happened was a delusional wet dream you conjured out of desperation this fine afternoon, but this time, you ceased squirming. he gave you a soft kiss on your nape as a reward. pride permeated your veins, your eyelashes fluttering and fists clenching in an attempt to control yourself.

"not to fret, your patience will be rewarded," he purred, deep and velvety and smooth, his breath tickling your skin, burning your nerves and sending your arousal lurching. perhaps you should have begged for him to relent to his depraved desires and devour the whole banquet instead.

the hand on your tummy trailed upwards to settle on your chest, palming idly before rolling a painfully hard nipple between the calloused pads of his fingers, the gentle movement a complement to the cold sensation of his rings pressing onto soft, sensitive flesh. sparks bloomed like fireworks and slick trickled down your stuffed pussy. yet still, you obeyed with trembling thighs; the only body part moving being your walls, squeezing around his cock, wishing for it to move and bully your sweetest spots with hard and precise series ofー

"so well behaved for me...."

you swore you heard him chuckle.

"my good mate."

he graciously bestowed you a new mark on your neck and a teasing little thrust, just enough for the two heads to peck your cervix like a teasing lover, savoring the enchanting wail falling from your lips.

“oh, this archon can’t wait to utterly ruin you tonight.”

𖧷 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓅 ❬ taglist ❭ ┈ @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sunnshineflxwer | @yuutasbabe | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @marina-and-the-memes | @mixed-kester | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @cakeboxie | @crystalflygeo | @ciexuvia | @illaasya | @celestewritestoomuch | @pams-comfortzone | @spidermanluvr444 | @ourstrawberryclouds | @ryuryuryuyurboat

[drunkenlionwrites]

Lapis Lazuli Warnings: afab g/n reader, slight sacrilege , p in v sex

You feel so devastatingly overwhelmed with sensations that your brain is almost shutting down. The back being pressed to the cold and moist surface of the frescoes-covered wall, the hot body of your lover against your chest, the tail of his slithering between your thighs to then hug your waist possessively while he languidly pushes himself into you.

The air around you is humid, Dan Heng’s exhales near your face only making you feel it stronger. The look in his azure eyes fills you with some kind of primal need and reverence. His skin is velvet under your fingertips. The strands of his hair are nothing but finest silk falling onto your shoulders. The act feels so sinful – a sacrilege of sorts, yet Dan Heng’s breathy grunts beside your ear make you forget everything else. “I see you’re still a sinner in this life, Dan Heng?” you manage to tease him, which grants you a deeper and harder push of his cock into your core.

One more thrust and a chuckle follows. “Don’t antagonize me. You’re the willing participant too, my love.” The sarcasm dripping in his tone, his movements shifting back to agonizingly slow again while his sleek tail wraps tighter around your waist. You whine, trying to shift your hips against Dan Heng at least a little. Naïve. He won’t allow you that. But still, you’re stubborn. “At least I’m not doing it against the relic of my people.”

“Oh, is it so? If I were you, I would know better than that and stop talking now. That is…if you still want me to make you come now.” His voice grew darker, but you knew that some darker parts of him resonated with your taunting.  With a huff you relent, deciding not to dwell on the subject deeper, biting his pointed ear and pressing the head to his shoulder. It served as a sign for Dan Heng to continue with your slow punishment.

Hands running up your thighs with utmost tenderness to only grip them harshly in attempt to bring your lower body even closer to his. Every grind of his length inside you painfully brings you closer and closer to your release. The feeling of his fangs grazing the skin of your neck hard enough to make it bleed doesn’t make it easier on you. The skin where your lower bodies collide is covered in your combined fluids and produces lewd squelching sounds now that make you shiver in the tight hold of your lover. It’s still not enough.

“Please…Please. I need more…I’ll be good to you” you mewled into his shoulder pathetically. Anything to make him move faster inside you.

“So weak now.” he chuckles, biting your neck once again until you cry out. “Well, let this sinner grant you with the long-awaited deliverance then.” he breathes out in your ear, which makes you clench around his length. His pace becomes punishing now, each thrust precise, each touch making you feel sublime, yet somehow dirty. Your pants and moans only encourage Dan Heng to move faster. The stinging pain in your neck and back adds to your pleasure and pushes you closer to your release.

With moans of your name his thrusts become erratic, and you feel him pulsing inside you so deliciously, that it serves as the last stroke before impeding orgasm. You shudder and pulse around his cock, barely registering now how his hot cum fills you. While coming down from your release, panting and holding each other close, Dan Heng smiles in his usual warm way – the corners of his lips slightly upturned, his eyes, now of darkened lapis lazuli color full of adoration. “Well that definitely ‘spiced it up’, right?” you murmured, exhaling.

I'm sorry, this just lived in my head and I needed to spill it out somewhere. Basically reader and Dan Heng are roleplaying here a bit to have rougher sex, but I feel like Dan Heng is still kinda OOC here and he for sure won't be joking about the sins of his past incarnation while fucking at the Scalegorge Waterscape of all places 😂

[cereovo]

A set of very conceptual notes I drafted a while back for someone asking for advice on learning to draw humans. I'm entirely self-taught so this is less of a tutorial and more of a very rambling set of general principles I follow and ideas that helped while I was learning. I figured I'd post it in case anyone else could get use out of it!

I also recommend checking out:

Drawing East Asian Faces by Chuwenjie

How to Think When you Draw (lots of good tutorials in this series)

Pose reference sites such as Adorkastock

Transcript and some elaboration under the cut:

Img 1 - Drawing a face

The two most important elements (at least for me) when drawing a face are the outline of the cheek/jaw and the nose*. I often start with a circle to indicate the round part of the skull, then add a straight like and a 'V' to one side [to create the side of the face and the jaw]. The nose creates an easy template for the rest of the face's features to follow (eyebrows at the top of the nose bridge, eyes towards the center of the bridge, ear lines up to eye) and the placement/direction and overlap with other features is a very simple way to indicate dimension. [A sketch of a face that has been adjusted by moving its parts to create 3 different angles. The following text is underneath:] -Different 3/4th views can be created just by adjusting the position of and amount of overlap between the facial features. - The top of the ear usually lines up with the corner of the eye. Think of how glasses are designed [specifically, how the arms run from the eyeline to the ear] [I go on a tangent in these next few paragraphs] *One thing I see many artists do - not just beginners - is learn how to draw A Person. As in, one singular person with one set of bodily proportions and one set of facial features. It's an issue that runs a bit deeper than 'same face syndrome' because sometimes these artists can draw more than one face, they're just not very representative of [the diversity present across] real people. Part of the reason I'm talking more about how to think about approaches to drawing - rather than showing specific how-to's - is because there is no one correct or right way to draw a person. The sooner you allow yourself to explore variety - fat people, old people, people of color, people with [conventionally] 'unattractive' features - the easier it'll be! Artists often draw their own features honestly and without [harmful] caricature, so it's always a good idea to look at art made by the kinds of people you're trying to draw if you're ever unsure about how to handle something. In general, it's far more important to learn how to interpret a variety of forms than to learn how to replicate the Platonic Ideal of the Human Body.

Img 2 - Stuff that helped me

Jumping into drawing humans (faces or otherwise) straight from photo reference can be overwhelming. The trick is to simplify forms into shapes - but even this concept is sort of abstract and it may be hard to know where to begin. Good news - Thousands of other artists have already figured it out. [When starting out] I needed to learn from photo reference AND artists I admired in order to improve. [When looking at stylization you are inspired by] ask yourself: WHY does this simplification work? How can I translate it into a different pose? Instead of copying what you see in a photo reference exactly, try to focus on the general forms first. My two biggest style inspirations for humans while learning to draw them were Steven Universe and Sabrina Cotugno's art. SU gets a lot of hate [in this instance I was specifically referring to a time on tumblr when the art was knocked for 'losing quality'] but its style does a great job of simplifying anatomy in a way that still portrays a diversity of bodies + features. [Extremely simplified drawings of Lapis, Steven, and Amethyst] SU characters are still identifiable- and still read as 'human' - even when reduced to just a few lines!

Img 3 - Things I keep in mind while drawing side profiles

- Eyebrows + eyes close to the 'edge' of the face - Forehead needs enough room for a brain - Eye is > shaped from the sides - Mouth kinda halfway [between the nose and the chin] but closer to the nose - Skin/fat exists under the jaw [and connects to the neck] - neck is about one half the width of the whole head - the back of the skull always sticks out a bit further than you might expect - Sometimes less is more - contours exist on every face, but drawing them in may make your character seem much older than they're supposed to be. However, it's a good idea to use them when you *want* your character to look old! These are very general notes- every face is different and has different proportions [and playing around with them creates unique and interesting character designs]

[hiraya-rawr]

dear osmanthus — zhongli .

synopsis !! after a traumatizing experience with treasure hoarders in your little rural teahouse, you find comfort in your regular customer and dear friend, Zhongli.

contains !! gn reader, preferably minors dni, tw // recovery from s.a., trauma response, intimacy, hurt/comfort!! some brief mature scenes but general sfw. father figure/familial zhongli! "darling" as pet name! protective zhongli out for vengeance. READ WITH CAUTION even if this is milder than other dark contents :>

note !! this is definitely one of the heavier works ill be posting here, but i did try to steer away from descriptive scenes. this has lotsa platonic intimacy tho! enough to make lovers jealous but you can take it as romantic too i guess?

Tossing, turning, the sheets tangled with your form. It's hot. It's cold—

It's closing time in the teahouse. The counters have been wiped and the floors have been swept, you only need to lock up. Perhaps if you had locked the doors first then you could have prevented everything.

You remember this scene. A crash, a bang, a group entering -rowdy and intimidating- pushing you back behind the counter. Then a rope, some laughter (not yours), mora being taken out of the register. It clinks and clanks into their pockets and pouches.

You're compliant— quiet and trying your best to be calm. You knew the odds of you, a rural teahouse owner, winning against a group of treasure hoarders and you didn't want to try your luck. Let them take the mora, the pretty wall decor, your best tea set— and tomorrow, you'll make a report to the Millelith. That was the plan you conjured as you tried not to shake in fear.

Then—

"Hey boss–" A skinny treasure hoarder tugs at the older, larger man. Leaning close to mutter something, "—The owner looks kinda cute."

The boss turns to you, eyes staring you down. Your stomach drops at the grin that spreads on his face.

"Aye, they do, don't they?"

"No!—"

"—No!"

You jolt up from bed, a scream at the tip of your tongue. Breath stuck. You choke from nothing. The dream felt so real. Their gazes, looking down on you.

Your blanket pooled around your waist from when you sat up. It felt heavy, like it was holding you down- holding you down- holding you down- You quickly shoved it away, kicking it off your legs and feet until it hanged on the edge of your bed.

The lost of a blanket made the room feel colder.

You stared at it, for archon's sake! it's just a blanket!

A sob echoed in the room. You realize it's your own noise. It's your despair that has repeatedly climbed up your throat over and over again, causing so much noise in the quiet of your room. Bringing your knees closer to your chest and hiding your eyes behind your palms, you give yourself a moment to cry.

A bird chirps by the window and little rays of morning sun peeks through the blinds. Time to start the day.

•

The teahouse was always busy during brunch. Today was no different— with groups of grandparents huddling in after their morning tai chi, merchants and their goods parked outside, little kids sent to buy some bread and maybe a sweet bao for themselves— the teahouse might as well be blessed by Rex Lapis himself.

It's comforting. You love mornings like these, accustomed to the early rush, but the talking grows noisier, their gazes are on you, you hear footsteps, you feel the crowd, calm down, calm down—

"Good morning, mister Zhongli. The usual?"

You greet the gentleman as he settles in his usual spot. A small table and tall chair by a corner, windows overlooking the mountains of Liyue.

"Good morning, darling. That would be most appreciated." He smiles back, a warm smile and you can't help but think how much it resembles the sweet grandparents on the next table. Honestly, Zhongli should value his youth more. What bachelor would spend his mornings in a rural teahouse with an old traditional book?

You come back with a pot of osmanthus tea and a plate of steamed buns. He's turning the pages of his book.

"Here you are."

"Hm? Is this the usual serving for baozi?"

"The extra baozi is a treat for being a regular customer, but don't tell the other customers that." You grin with a wink and he chuckles deeply.

"Of course, it's only because the tea here is exceptional that I keep coming back."

"Then I'll leave you to enjoy the meal. Ring the bell should you need anything."

•

"Uh three mantou, one congee–"

"Make that two congee."

"—Two congee, the pickled vegetable kind, not the meat, and umm shrimp dumplings—"

You're trying to be polite. You're nodding your head, listing down the orders. There's nothing wrong with the group, really, it's just that the group of men are taking too long. Their orders are repetitive and your list is full of erasures, they're a little robust, a little too loud, but it's nothing new in the service industry.

Then—

"How many pieces of mantou did I order again?" One of them stands up, slightly, from his seat. He's taller than the rest, he looms over you. You're sure he doesn't mean to, he looks kind, but his hand grabs at your upper arm, pulling you towards him, peeking at your list of their orders.

He grabbed you. He's grabbing you. His hand is on you and he pulled you and you went along with the force all too easily, so pliant to a show of strength, and all of a sudden—

"Hey, hey, hold 'em down,"

"Stop struggling–"

There's an arm around you. A hand on you. Another hand. Someone's knee presses on your thigh. You're struggling but you're not moving and it's surreal how futile your efforts are.

"Cutie's a little feisty." One says and it scares you how casually it's said; Like a passing comment on the road; Like a joke, but you're not laughing.

Before you knew it, you've shoved your customer away, his expression a mix of shock and confusion as you turn to the back door of the teahouse.

Some people turn their heads but most continued to eat, unfazed by the odd commotion, with the exception of a pair of amber eyes following your form out the door.

"Did I do something wrong?" The customer mumbles aloud, his friends shrug to themselves, "I think I should go after them-"

"Please allow me." Zhongli approaches the group, "I happen to be a friend of theirs. They haven't been feeling well lately, having a customer check up on them would only make them feel conflicted."

"I suppose you're right. . . I leave it to you, then."

•

You're heaving, hunched over the grass and trying to keep back what you had for breakfast down your throat. It's dizzying and you can't seem to stop the spontaneous shivers wracking through your body.

What have you done? To shove aside a customer over- over this? You have to turn back and apologize— did they notice? Did the whole restaurant have their eyes on you? You can't bare the thought of being so overly exposed.

You hear your name from a familiar voice behind you.

"There, there, it's alright, child."

The voice is grounding, gentle and calm. Not at all like the obnoxious laughter of those men, their disgusting suggestions and—

"You're alright now, there, there."

"Oh, mister Zhongli," You didn't mean to sob his name but it escapes you anyway, your arms reach out to wrap around his middle. His presence grounds you, like an unwavering rock when the water currents try to drown you. He reciprocates your hug, gently laying his arms around you, rubbing your back. "It's– it's not always like this," You stutter out, "Most days, I barely think of it. Most days, I don't mind this."

He nods along in understanding. Nevermind that you could be referring to anything else, he just understands.

"It's alright to feel this way," He holds you with a slight sway to his movements, comforting, calming, "You have every reason to break down, my dear. You didn't deserve what happened to you—"

He continues his soft reassurances, lulling you with his voice, wrapping you in arms that feel safe.

A soft bed, the quiet atmosphere of Bubu Pharmacy surrounds you.

"Are you alright?"

"Mister Zhongli. . .? What happened. . ."

He sits back, worried, "What was the last thing you remember, dear?"

"I was. . . closing the teahouse and then–" the men. You remember the men. You're breathing harder now, holding back the overwhelming feelings of disgust and helplessness and–

Zhongli is calm as he comforts you. He goes over the events carefully, how the Millelith came and apprehended the situation, how he just so happened to be there, lucky enough to accompany you to the Pharmacy Clinic. It's unfortunate but some of the men escaped. He holds your hand as he says this.

You don't remember the whirlwind of events (neither do you wish to remember). A fight happened, perhaps. You can imagine the Millelith storming in, the panic of your assailants, the dark of the night sky as you're whisked away for first aid, and Zhongli staying by your side the entire time.

"Thank you. . . for comforting me." You tell him, finally parting slowly from the embrace, "I think I'm feeling okay now. I have to apologize to the customer."

"I told them that you're feeling unwell today, they would understand if you take a leave for now and let your employees handle the rest."

"Should I?" You glance up worriedly, he nods in assurance.

"Yes, just take a rest for now." He smiles, it's warm and again, grounding.

"It seems you're always here when I need you to, mister Zhongli."

There's a flicker in his eyes. A sad look, almost regretful, "If I had arrived with the Millelith a little sooner. . . "

You sigh quietly, not out of disappointment towards him, but in the face of reality, "You did what you can and I'm more than grateful. After all, we are not gods. . . we are simply humans," Turning your head away from him, you stare up at the sky, "I can only hope that the gods would take care of the rest of them."

"I hope so as well. . ."

note !! *looks at upcoming works* yup, lots of platonic intimacy there. i joined the Zhongli fandom for hot daddy— ended up staying for wholesome grandpa <3

do tell me what you think of this fic! I tried a different writing process for it so :>

masterlist 2 // commissions // ko-fi

bonus scene —

zhongli doesn't mean to worry you. he really didn't plan on it, but he can't exactly explain to the millelith what happened to the remaining treasure hoarders, right? the stone forests of liyue are the perfect hideout for wanted criminals, not even moonlight could filter through the thick trees. mortals would find it difficult to traverse the rocky and rich terrain, hence why the millelith would avoid the place.

It's the geo archon's territory after all.

"Ah, so here's the rest of you." Zhongli says, a calm smile on his face, "I must say, you're rather unlucky compared to your friends who were caught. They must be sitting peacefully in their cells right now."

The group turns to him in confusion, the dark of the night makes it difficult to see the gentleman dressed in brown, but his piercing amber eyes strikes them like a predator watching their prey.

"Hey! Who are you?" One of them calls out, annoyed.

"Unimportant. But I suggest you run."

"What?"

Pupils turn to slits. Amber eyes glow brighter. And for a split second, if you focus really hard, the face of a dragon stares back.

"Run."

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08

[daydreamtofiction]

Thou Shalt Not Covet // 14: Rebirth

Contents | Part 13 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Benedict x Female Reader) Ellis is beginning to learn that what is meant for her won't pass her by.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult and sexual themes. Descriptions of periods/menstruation, financial struggles and money talk, discussions of death, grief & loss. Readers must be 18+

Soleil's eyes were the deepest blue, like two shiny, round gems of Lapis Lazuli. You found yourself staring at them in awe as you flicked through photos of her on your computer; even the clumsy editing and dull colour grading unable to diminish their shine. 

Still, Mara was right, the pictures were bad. So bad you couldn't fix them. You huffed and leaned back in the desk chair, staring up at the ceiling of your office, the weird piece of dangling plaster in the corner that hadn't moved the whole time you'd worked there. You hadn't been able to focus in days, couldn't keep still; your mind and body overwrought with a sense of uneasiness that left you with bitten nails and a pain between your shoulder blades.

The chair almost tipped back. You jerked forward and caught yourself before you fell, looking around the room in embarrassment despite there being no one there. You cleared your throat and went back to work, sipping on lukewarm coffee as you typed out a disgruntled email.

There was an ache in your lower back as you sat up straight, a heaviness in your pelvis that made you squirm in search of comfort. You ignored it at first, the pain nothing more than a niggle. But after a few minutes you paused, wondering if it could be something more.

You grabbed your bag and left the office, making your way down the corridor and into the women's bathroom. You locked yourself in a cubicle and hastily unbuttoned your trousers, relief pouring out of you in a heavy sigh when you saw blood in your underwear. 

"Oh, thank god," you whispered to yourself as you sat on the toilet, head falling into your hands. 

You'd only been three days late. But those three days felt like an eternity. Waiting for something, anything; a cramp or the slightest twinge, for a spot to appear on your chin, for your breasts to hurt when you squeezed them. You'd driven yourself mad, checking the foil packets of your pills for one you might have forgotten to take, scrolling back through your period app to work out when you would have ovulated. It would be just your luck - your punishment - the consequences of your sacrilege.

"Thank god, thank god, thank god," you muttered as you rummaged through your bag for a tampon, instead finding a single pantyliner and a packet of paracetamol. 

You huffed and put on the liner, buttoning up your trousers and stepping out of the cubicle. You walked over to the sinks where the free tampons usually sat, breathing out a laugh in disbelief when you found the large basket completely empty.

Dawn was sat behind the reception desk, the empty foyer echoing with the sound of her nails clacking against the computer keyboard. You rubbed your washed hands on the sides of your trousers as you walked over to her. 

"You alright, hun?" she asked, glancing up at you briefly. 

"There's no tampons in the toilets," you replied quietly. 

"Oh yeah, there was a problem with the supplier, something to do with that time I ordered a million by mistake. Delivery won't be here 'til next week I don't think." 

You closed your eyes and sighed. "Okay, I'm going to be out of office for about twenty minutes." 

"Okay love. Get yourself some dark chocolate too; good for cramps." 

You rolled your eyes and laughed. "Thanks." 

The country was five days into a heatwave. The thick, sticky air so close and suffocating you practically had to wade through it as you walked down the street. You hated it; how it made your clothes feel wrong on your body, made your eyes itch and your hair stick to your skin. You would walk past people sitting in pub gardens, their faces glowing as they laughed and drank together, and wonder if the sun somehow felt different to other people. If, to them, its smothering heat was more like a warm kiss.

There was a Boots a few streets over from work. You walked there quickly, stepping inside the air-conditioned shop and sighing as the cool, refreshing air soothed your burning skin. You dawdled down the aisles, basking in the relief from the sun, looking at body washes you didn't need and makeup you already had at home. When you got to your aisle, there was a young woman already there. She was looking at pregnancy tests, a different brand in each hand as she read the boxes carefully. You caught each other's gaze for a moment as you picked up your tampons, exchanging polite smiles, neither knowing whether to be happy or sorry for the other. 

You stood in the queue as a single cashier worked behind the tills. You didn't mind waiting, much preferring to look at the summer weather through a window than be stuck outside in it. There was a man standing over the road that caught your eye; a smart navy blue suit, shirt, tie and full dress shoes. How was he not melting? You watched as he hovered outside the building, straightening a tall signpost that had tilted slightly to one side. 

The queue shifted forward. You took a step closer and looked back out, taking more notice of the building behind him. It was three stories, victorian, ivy climbing over weathered brick and stone. The small front garden was plush and green, with flowers and a wooden bench beneath the front window, a path leading up to the pale blue front door where three separate letter boxes sat beside it. It was flats. 

"Who's next?" the cashier called out. 

You walked up to her, barely able to keep your eyes off the suited man as he took a leather binder from his car and walked back towards the signpost in the front garden. 

"Do you need a bag?" the cashier asked. 

"Er no, no it's okay. Thank you." 

She handed you your receipt and you took the box, walking out of the shop and making your way across the road. 

You stepped up onto the kerb and wandered closer to the building, gazing up at it, trying to figure out which floor held the vacant flat. 

"Hi, are you here for the viewing?" asked the man as he approached you. 

You turned to him in a slight daze, lips parted slightly before letting out a simple "Yes." 

It was like a compulsion. First Father Benedict, now him. Had you not learned your lesson?

"Oh okay great," he said, mopping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. "Sorry, my colleague called in sick this morning so I'm looking after her properties for the day. Haven't got any of her appointment info. I'm Aaron." 

He reached out to shake your hand, his eyes falling on the box of tampons you were holding. You looked down at them, then back up to him, pressing your lips into an awkward smile. 

"Right, well," he said, clearing his throat. "Shall we?" 

You followed him up the path and waited as he unlocked the door. He stepped aside to let you walk in first, closing it behind you.

"We'll be viewing 336C, which is the top floor," he said, pointing up the stairs. 

You looked around the entry hall, at the pretty tiled floor and cork board on the wall pinned with friendly messages and posters, a cute frog-shaped doormat outside 336A. He started up the stairs and you followed, taking in every detail as he continued to speak. 

"So the property is comprised of three flats. One on each floor. It's a converted house so it's had quite a bit of refurb done to alter the layout." He paused on the middle landing to catch his breath and mop his brow again before continuing, flicking through the notes in his folder as he went. "The owners say the neighbours are lovely, they take really good care of the place, as you can see. Area's also great; you've got the high street, bus and train station nearby, low crime, great schools - if that's something you're concerned about." 

You reached the top floor landing, still holding the box of tampons as he unlocked the door to the flat and gestured for you to follow.

"So it's listed as a one bed, one bath," he continued as he wandered into the flat. "But my colleague's written here that there's another room that could be used as a second bedroom if needed. It's just quite small so it's currently being utilised as an office. If you come this way you can see we enter straight into the living space..." 

He was still talking, but you could barely hear him anymore; your mind slipping into a state of awe as you laid eyes on the place for the first time. Your lips parted slightly as you drew in a soft gasp at the sight of a large stained glass window flooding the living area with shafts of iridescent light. It made you think of the church, of Father Benedict, but most of all, it made you think of serenity, of joy and of home.

You walked over to it, running your fingers over the lead ridges separating the pieces of coloured glass, how they swirled into flowers and hearts and ribbons, soaking in the sun's rays and turning them the most stunning shades of greens, pinks and gold. 

"It's a really lovely property, very unique," said Aaron. "Open but still cozy, lots of natural light. If you come through here I'll show you the kitchen." 

You turned around as he opened a door on the other side of the room, following him into a small kitchen and listening as he reeled off information from his folder. He took you through to a small alcove at the back of the flat, the bedrooms and bathroom neatly tucked away inside, letting you wander around as he spoke.  

"You've not said a lot," he laughed nervously as you walked back into the living area. 

"Sorry, I'm just... I wasn't expecting to like it this much."

"Oh, well that's good to hear. It is a really nice place. Would it just be you living here or is there a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Kids? Flatmates?" 

"It would just be me." 

He nodded. "I think it's the perfect size for one. Can just see you now, sitting by that window reading a book, coffee in hand." 

You smiled, pausing for a moment and swallowing hard. "C-can you just remind me how much it's going for... per month?" 

"Oh, I'm sorry it's er- This one isn't a rental. It's for sale." 

Your heart shattered, falling to pieces in your chest. You licked your lips, keeping your face straight. "Right, sorry, I don't know why I said that. I've been looking at rentals as well, must have got mixed up." 

"That's alright." He smiled and flicked a page in his folder. "This is listed for... £175,000." 

And just like that, the pieces in your chest turned to dust. 

"Okay, great, thank you," you said. "Well, I'll erm, I go away and y'know, speak to my... people and... yeah." 

He nodded and took a business card from his pocket, handing it to you with a smile. You placed it on the box of tampons, holding it there with your thumb as he began to walk you out. You turned back, taking one last look at the place before the door closed, a strange feeling of homesickness coming over you. 

"Can I just ask how much mortgage payments would be?" you asked as you followed him down the stairs. 

"Well I'm sure your broker will know better than I would," he replied. "But usually if you put up a 10% deposit, let's say 25 years, you're looking at something quite reasonable. Depends how good your mortgage is." 

"10%... So... £17,500...?" 

"Yep." 

"Right, okay, easy enough."

"I can't tell if you're joking or not," he laughed. 

"Everyone says that." 

You couldn't stop thinking about the flat. Every day after work, you would walk past it, just to check it hadn't been sold yet, as though there was any way you would ever be able to buy it. You would daydream about sitting at the window, just like Aaron said, book in hand, watching rain patter against the multicoloured glass. You furnished the place in your head, chose paints and tiles and cushions, imagined people coming over and saying 'wow, Ellis, you're so lucky to have such a beautiful home'. 

But you weren't the lottery-winning type. Weren't the kind of person to come up with an idea that made millions, or meet someone so rich that £17.5K would be like lending someone a fiver. It was unattainable. A dream. Another reminder that you were so far behind where you thought you would be by now. 

A car horn beeped, then beeped again a few moments later. You checked your reflection in the mirror and opened the front door. 

"Mum, Mara's here, I'm going," you shouted. 

"Okay, love," she called back from upstairs. 

You ran down the path, opening the passenger door of Mara's big, pristinely white car and climbing inside. She hated the heat too, the air-con blasting so strong it raised the hairs on your arms. 

"Hi," you said.

"Hi," she replied, eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. "Seatbelt." 

"Yes, yes, I know." 

She waited until you'd strapped yourself in before pulling away, the car engine so smooth and quiet you could barely hear it. 

You glanced over your shoulder into the back. "No baby?" 

"No, funnily enough I am allowed to leave the house without her," she replied sarcastically. 

You rolled your eyes and looked out the passenger window. "I take it you're still pissed off with me for convincing you to come today?" 

"Yep." 

You laughed halfheartedly. 

She looked over at you for a moment, then back to the road. "What's up with you?" 

You sighed, hesitating to speak.

"Tell me," she insisted. 

"I just..." You took a deep breath. "I'm losing hope that I'm ever going to get on my feet again." 

She pulled into traffic, taking extra care to look around before speeding up. "What do you mean? It's only been, what, like a month?"

"Yeah I know. Just feels hopeless though. Like, I found a place. The perfect place. Beautiful, safe, quiet, walking distance from work. Only to find out it's for sale, not to let." 

"Well that doesn't make it hopeless. Nathan and I have a really good broker, I can ask him to do the numbers for you, shop around and see if anywhere would offer you a mortgage-"

"Unless you can find a way of pulling £17,500 out of my arse, there's honestly no point." 

"Is that the deposit?" 

"Mhm." 

She paused before huffing to herself. "This fucking economy. Ridiculous." 

"It's fine. I went and viewed another flat yesterday which is to let."

"Oh, well see, there you go." 

"Mm. It's right round the corner from where that girl got murdered last year, which is nice. The hallway smelled like piss and weed and it was so small I could cook my dinner, take a shit and watch TV all at the same time. But beggars can't be choosers, so..."

She stifled a laugh, trying to hide it with a cough. "You're not actually going to take it, are you?" 

"I don't know. I can't get that other place out of my head, but I can't stay with mum forever. It just made me feel so shit how out of reach it is for me. Like my future is just so bleak and..." 

You felt yourself getting choked up, the lump in your throat catching you by surprise. You never cried, especially not in front of your sister. You rubbed your mouth to disguise your trembling lip, clearing your throat and turning away from her. 

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, adjusting her sunglasses as she drove. "What's meant for you won't pass you by," she said. 

You remained quiet for a while, inhaling through your nose, filling your lungs to the brim and letting it flow out again slowly. 

"Oh, I looked at Soleil's photos for you," you said, changing the subject.

"And? I'm right aren't I, they look like shit." 

"Yeah they're fucking awful." 

"I told you. I'm fuming, Ellis. I danced around like a twat in that studio just to get her to smile for the camera." 

You laughed. "I've sent an email to the head office to get you another session for free." 

"Oh... Thank you," she said with a grateful surprise. "Can I request you edit them? I don't trust anyone else." 

You smiled to yourself but didn't dare let her see. "Yeah, I'll make sure they come to me." 

You pulled up into the church carpark, climbing out into the sickly heat with a synchronised groan. Mara walked around the car to meet you, fixing the straps of her maxi dress and hoisting her bag on her shoulder. 

"I can't believe I agreed to this," she mumbled. 

"It's fine, I've been before, they're not that bad," you replied, beginning the walk towards the parish pub.

"Not that bad? I couldn't think of anything worse than doing circle time with a bunch of miserable people moaning about their problems." 

"You're so compassionate, Mara." 

She growled, fixing the strap of her dress again. "I'm telling you now, I'm not speaking at this thing. I'll introduce myself and that's it. And if anyone mistakes me for your mother I will walk out." 

You made it to the pub, walking inside to find it bustling with regulars, familiar faces you'd come to know from church. 

"My god," said Mara, leaning in to talk quietly. "It's a Tuesday afternoon, why aren't people at work?" 

"We're not at work either..." 

She pushed her sunglasses onto her head. "Fair point." 

You gestured towards the back. She walked through a small group of people near the bar, the crowd parting effortless in her presence. You'd always found her aura fascinating; how commanding yet charming, terrifying yet charismatic she could be. People always said you looked alike, how similar you were in some ways, and you couldn't help but wonder if Mara was who you could have been if you hadn't spent so much of your life scared to be noticed. 

She stopped at the door to the back room, reading the sign and turning to you. "Do we knock?" 

"No, just go in," you replied. 

She opened the door and stepped inside. The circle of chairs was almost full, their eyes all glancing up at you in unison. You walked in behind her, your gaze immediately falling on Father Benedict, the corners of your mouth pulling into an involuntary smile.

"Sorry we're late," said Mara. "We can leave if we're interrupting." 

"Not at all," he replied cheerily, standing up to greet you. 

"Nice try," you muttered. 

She elbowed you in the side before smiling at him kindly. He shook her hand and directed her to a seat. Then he turned to you, taking your hand in his and shaking it like a perfect gentleman. 

"Ellis," he said, eyes creasing at the corners.

"Father," you replied, stifling a smirk.

"I believe many of you know Ellis already," he said, turning to the group. "And this is her sister Mara." 

You sat next to each other on the far side of the circle, saying hello as everyone greeted you quietly. 

"You haven't missed much," he said as he sat back down opposite you, crossing one leg over the other and brushing his hair back away from his face. "We were just talking about how our weeks have been since the last meeting. Sandra, would you like to continue what you were saying?" 

The older woman nodded and cleared her throat. "As I said, my granddaughter asked me if I could make some cakes for her school bake sale. Usually I'd have just done them for her and dropped them off, but I thought about what you said Father, about not shutting ourselves off. So I invited her to come and make them with me." 

"Oh, that's lovely," he said, a genuine smile on his face. 

"It was. She came 'round and we baked and talked about Harold. She remembered stories about him that even I'd forgot, it was a wonderful afternoon." 

There was a murmur of kind words around the room. Mara sat quietly. 

"Could you have imagined a few months ago you would've been able to do that?" asked Father Benedict.

"I know," she giggled proudly.

"I suppose that's another reason why these groups can be so helpful," he said. "We're not all going to be at the same stage in our grief, sometimes it can be encouraging to see people who may be further along than we are. It can provide us that hope that we will get there too." 

You loved how confidently he spoke. How easily he could lead a group of people and have them listening with such intent. It was a charm that didn't come with the job; it was innate, as natural to him as breathing. You envied it, almost as much as you admired it. 

"You brought up something interesting there, Sandra," he continued. "Something I actually wanted to touch on today. And that is remembering those we've lost through speaking about how they lived. When we talk of Jesus Christ-"

"Fucking hell," Mara mumbled under her breath. 

You turned to look at her, laughing quietly. 

"Yes we talk of how he died for our sins," he continued. "His death is important and we celebrate and give thanks to him for his sacrifice. But if we think about the size of the bible, the amount of stories we have of his life starting right from birth, the words he shared and the incredible things he did, those are abundantly more significant to his memory and why we choose to serve and follow his word." 

Everyone nodded in agreement while you and Mara remained still. 

"And we tell the stories of his life freely and openly and happily. We are eager to share. So why not do the same with those we actually had the privilege to know and love and be loved by." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "Why don't we go around and share one fun fact or story about our departed loved ones? Marion, would you like to start?" 

Mara glared at you from the corner of her eye. You shrugged awkwardly. 

"My dad loved practical jokes," Marion began. "I remember one time my mum was in the kitchen and my dad started screaming from upstairs 'Mary, get up here quick! There's a huge leak in the bathroom!' She ran up the stairs so fast she fell up them. Only to get to the bathroom and find my dad laughing his head off because he'd put a big leek from our vegetable patch on the toilet. Y'know... Leek, leak..."  

Everyone chuckled. 

Father Benedict gave a warm smile. "Sounds like he had a great sense of humour." 

"He did. Drove my mum mad, though." 

"That's the best kind of relationship." 

You glanced across the circle at him. He caught your eye, just for a moment, before moving onto the next person. 

Mara grew more and more irritable with every person who gave a story, Father Benedict's attention like an avalanche tumbling further towards her.

"Mara," he finally said. 

You stilled, waiting with a mixture of curiosity and concern. 

"You're new here today," he said. "So before we hear your story, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?" 

"Oh no, that's okay," she replied. 

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, creating deep lines in his cheeks, a curve in his cupid's bow. "Are you sure?" He kept his eyes on her, unwaveringly confident.

She cleared her throat. You turned your head to look at her, brow furrowing in shock. 

"I'm Mara," she said reluctantly. "I am Ellis' older sister. I have a husband and a daughter and I work for a large car manufacturing company."

"Okay, good, we're glad you're here, Mara," he said. "Do you have a story you'd like to share?" 

Her mouth tightened, and you began to feel like this was a mistake. He said this would be good for her, but he didn't know her like you did. He didn't grow up scared to utter your brother's name in case it upset her. You wanted to grab her hand and tell her you were going. She was right, this was a stupid idea.

"No, that's okay," she said. 

"I know it can be daunting, speaking about such a sensitive topic in front of strangers. May I ask who you lost?" 

She crossed one leg over the other, resting her hands on her knee. "My brother," she muttered. 

"How long ago?" 

She cleared her throat, glaring at him, knowing full well he already knew. "When I was twenty-one. He was twenty-four." 

Your eyes fell to your hands as you picked at your cuticle to avoid looking at her.

"Were you close?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I get the feeling you still find it difficult to talk about him..."

She didn't respond. You peered up to find them staring at each other in a silent standoff. 

"It can be helpful to examine why we struggle to reminisce about those that are no longer with us," he said, addressing everyone. "Is it anger? Guilt? Are we uncomfortable when confronted with feelings of sadness and grief? We talk a lot in these sessions about acceptance, about trusting that God has wrapped his arms around our loved ones and will reunite us with them one day. But that doesn't necessarily fix the sorrow we feel while having to live without them."

He stood up and walked to the table at the back, picking up a bottle of water and unscrewing the lid. 

"When I lost my brother," he continued, taking a large sip. "I built a wall around myself for a long time. I believed that wall was there to protect me from the pain, from the guilt and grief. But in protecting myself, I realised all I was really doing was diminishing his memory. It wasn't until I accepted it was okay to laugh and smile when talking about him, that I began to heal. I realised it was still okay to take the mick out of him and call him an idiot and say how much he got on my nerves, because that's who he was, those were the parts of him that lived on." He sat back down, placing the bottle under his chair. "Which is why I find this a great opportunity for us to speak positively about those we've lost." 

"I have a story," you said. 

He turned his attention to you and smiled. "Let's hear it." 

"My brother Cain..." you began tentatively. "Our brother. He was twelve years older than me so by the time I started secondary school he was already in his early twenties. I erm, I suppose you could say I was a bit weird in school..." 

Father Benedict's mouth twitched with a smirk, he rubbed his lips with the tips of his fingers to disguise it.

"There was a group of girls who'd been picking on me, and I let it slip to Cain. He was... livid. So the next day, school finished and as usual, these girls were standing at the gates saying nasty things to me. Next minute he pulled up in the car, walked over to them and told them if they ever so much as looked at me again he'd beat up their dads." 

You started laughing, the image of him comically shaking his fist at a group of eleven-year-olds still so vivid in your mind. You looked over at Mara to find her chuckling quietly, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I should say the church doesn't condone violence," said Father Benedict, making everyone laugh. 

"He was usually so gentle," said Mara. "He'd never hit anyone in his life which is why it was so funny." 

"And it worked," you said. "They never bothered me again." 

"Mara...?" said Father Benedict. "Any other stories come to mind?" 

She sighed, thinking for a moment. "Cain was... really funny. But what made him endearing was how comfortable he was in his own skin." 

You looked at her from the corner of your eye, scared to move in case it made her stop talking. 

"He er- We... We went on holiday to Spain one year. I was fifteen so he must've been... eighteen?" She turned to you. "You were about to turn six. Do you remember it?" 

You shook your head. "Vaguely." 

"Anyway, he erm- We were staying in one of those hotels that did entertainment at night, they'd get guests involved, all that. We'd just had dinner and we'd sat down for the show and realised Cain still wasn't back from the toilet. Mum sent dad looking for him, he wasn't in there, not in the room either, he literally couldn't find him anywhere on the complex. So they were just about to go and tell the hotel staff he was missing, when the entertainment started." She paused, laughing slightly to herself. "It was... a drag night. The host came out, started doing a routine to RuPaul's Supermodel, and out came a group of male guests in full drag. And there was Cain, dancing away; wig, dress, high heels and the worst makeup you've ever seen."

She was giggling now, her face bright, glowing with the memory. 

Father Benedict gave a deep, throaty chuckle. "Do you see parts of him in yourself?" 

"God no- Sorry, didn't mean to take the lord's name in vein. Just... no. I'm pragmatic and stiff and ordinary. He was vibrant and insouciant, clever and charming and unbelievably gorgeous yet so... weird." She turned to you. "You remind me of him. A lot."

Some may have taken that as an insult, a backhanded compliment. But to you, it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said. 

"You're not ordinary," you said.

"More ordinary than you," she replied.

You laughed. "I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing." 

The heatwave had yielded, like a fever that finally broke. The air was still warm, but the sky was grey, the scent of minerals and musk rising from the pavement as rain threatened to fall. You got off the bus and made the short walk to your mother's house, thankful to be done with another week of work. 

Nathan's car was parked on the street outside the house, and you groaned at the prospect of another 'family dinner'. The first drops of warm rain began to spit. You titled your head back, letting it pepper your face, soothing the slight burn across your cheeks. 

You opened the front door and stepped inside to find Mara and Nathan sitting in the living room, furrowing your brow when they both fell silent. 

"Have I interrupted something?" you asked.

Nathan stood up. "I'll leave you two to talk."

You narrowed your eyes as he disappeared into the kitchen, giving Mara a dubious look as you sat down on the couch. 

"What have I done?" you asked. 

"Nothing," she said. 

"Where's mum?" 

"In the kitchen with the baby."

"Has something bad happened?" 

"No, fucking hell Ellis just relax." She laughed as she sat up straight, crossing one leg over the other and turning her body to face you. "Nathan and I have been talking."

"Are you breaking up? That's a shame, I like him." 

"No." She sighed. "We're not breaking- can you just... let me talk?" 

You stayed quiet, relaxing back into the couch and waiting for her to continue. 

"We've been talking with our broker and he's managed to get you an agreement in principle for a mortgage."

You stared at her in confusion. 

"He can't go any further until he speaks with you, obviously, but he's confident he can get you accepted." She cleared her throat. "Of course, you'll need to put in an offer, he recommends going straight in at asking price, then we can-"

"Wait, wait, wait. What?" 

"The flat." 

"M-mara." You sat up, leaning forward slightly. "I appreciate you doing all of that, but... It's pointless. I can't afford-"

"We're going to give you the deposit," she interrupted quickly. "It won't be a loan, it'll be a gift. So you don't have to worry about paying it back. We'll also cover any fees and help you with furnishing if you need it." 

You sat there in silence, lips parted, eyes glassy with confusion.

"Ellis...?" 

"How rich are you?" 

"Fuck sake, mate, focus." 

"Sorry, I just- It's... Why?" 

"Why what?" 

"Why would you do that for me?" 

"Because I'm your sister," she said firmly. 

You paused, your breathing shallow as you tried to quiet your racing thoughts. "Mara, I can't accept that." 

"Why not?" 

"Because it's too much. It's... So much money. I can't take that from you." 

"Yes you can." 

"No, I can't." 

"Do you want to live with mum forever? Or in the pissy murder flat?" 

"Obviously not, but-"

"Then here you go, we're giving you the fresh start you need." 

"Mara, I can't," you said, your voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. 

"Yes. You. Can. Let me do this one thing for you." 

"I... I need to think about it."

"What is there to think about?" 

"I don't know, I just need to... think. Thank you, honestly, thank you. But I need to..."

She sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Okay. Then think about it. But just know the longer you take, the more you're risking the flat being snapped up by someone else." 

You stood up but your legs felt like jelly, almost giving way beneath you. You walked slowly to the stairs, clinging to the banister as you climbed them. You were dreaming, you had to be. 

You made it to your room, closing the door and pulling out your phone with shaking hands, pressing Father Benedict's name and holding the phone to your ear. 

"Hello?" he answered.

You hadn't seen him since the grief meeting four days earlier, his voice a welcomed comfort as it melted through the phone. 

"Hi," you said. "Are you busy?" 

"No, just catching up on some paperwork in the office. Are you alright?" 

"Do you think I could come and see you? I could do with some... guidance?" 

"Really? Is that code for something?" 

"No," you exhaled a laugh. "I just need an ear, maybe some advice." 

"Okay," he said sceptically. "Are you sure you're alright?" 

"Yeah. I'll be there soon." 

The taxi pulled up outside the church. You climbed out and made your way onto the grounds, walking down the rain-speckled path as the warm breeze carried the scent of flowers and damp earth.

You walked around to the side door, tapping your knuckles against it and waiting, looking over your shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one saw you. He pushed open the door and let you inside, greeting you with a handsome smile. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbows, but his collar was still fastened tight around his neck. His hair was curlier than usual, a slight sunburn across the bridge of his nose.

He took you into his office, sitting back down behind his desk and returning to the mound of papers in front of him. You dropped down onto the couch facing him, watching his fingers grip the pen as he scribbled his signature, the veins protruding in his forearms as he moved.

"So what's wrong?" he asked. "You sounded worried on the phone."

"Not worried, just confused. I don't- Does the bible say anything about accepting big gifts?" 

He stopped writing and glanced over at you, brows coming together over his pale eyes. "You're not being bribed, are you?" 

"No," you laughed. "My sister... She's offered to give me money for a flat. A lot of money." 

"Well that's great." 

"Is it?"

He leaned back in his chair, fingers clasped together in his lap. "The bible says 'God loves a cheerful giver'."

"So..."

"So why do you care what the bible says?" he laughed. "You're not catholic, you don't believe in any of it." 

"I know but I... Sometimes I just think it would be easier if I had some sort of faith, y'know, something to live my life by, to consult when I need to make big decisions." 

"You don't need to be religious to have faith." He stood up, walking around the desk and leaning back against it. "Faith is about dedicating yourself to something bigger than yourself. There are no rules to say that something has to be a god." 

"What else is there?" 

"I don't know; community, philanthropy, love, justice, fucking extraterrestrials." 

You dropped your head and laughed. He walked over and sat down beside you.

"If faith is what you need in order to live your life then you'll find it," he said.

You looked at him for a moment, before sighing and rolling your eyes.

"Was that not helpful?" he laughed.

"I just want to be told what to do." 

"You want me to tell you what to do?" 

"Please." 

"Take the money, Ellis." He said softly. "Why punish yourself any further?" 

"Because how do I ever repay her for something like that?" 

"I'm sure she's not looking for repayment. She loves you, she wants you to be happy." 

You stayed quiet, looking around the room for a moment before rolling your shoulders with a tired groan.  He reached out and placed his large hand on the back of your neck, massaging it with his fingers. You closed your eyes and relaxed into the firm pressure.

"Do you want to stay while I finish my work?" he asked quietly.

You nodded, eyes still closed. 

He gave one final squeeze and let go, standing up and returning to his desk. 

You curled your legs underneath yourself, resting your head on the arm of the couch as you watched him work. It was hard not to imagine the two of you in that flat; you relaxing on the couch while he worked at the table by the window, bathed in light from the coloured glass, comfy clothes and a cigarette in his mouth. 

Your eyelids grew heavy as you imagined him pulling you to your feet, kissing you and laughing as you danced around the flat to Van Morrison. And you wouldn't have to leave if you didn't want to, because it was yours.

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf

*If you would like to be tagged in the next part, please comment below, or feel free to add yourself to the tag list here

[paimonial-rage]

of hopes and prayers - zhongli

ship: zhongli x reader

synopsis: in which alcohol brings about a moment of vulnerability

notes: a short deleted scene of bookkeeping!verse that takes place immediately after but it’s better than drinking alone with references to blasphemous assumptions

"You know,” you began as you walked to your homes, “I'm not sure if you heard that day, but one time I told Meng and the Ferrylady that Rex Lapis would never sit alone listening to tales of his life. After thinking about it more, I think I was a bit shortsighted to say that."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"They say that Liyue is 3,700 years old, but Rex Lapis is even older than that. He's one of the oldest gods in all of Teyvat. How many people do you think he's outlived? How many friends had he said goodbye to throughout his life? It wasn't as if he could leave either. He was the Geo archon. It was his duty to watch over Liyue, its people, the adepti... Being forced to see people come and go... I can't help but imagine how lonely of an existence that must have been. Dealing with that, maybe it would be easier to just reminisce alone. That way it would hurt less when they leave... at least, that's what I imagine.”

He chuckled.

“Did you perhaps come to that conclusion after our conversation this evening?”

You shook your head, “No, but I can’t say you didn’t play a part in it. Thinking about it makes me think… makes me hope…”

You bit your lip, lapsing into silence. There was a reason you brought this up. You had more to say, but… You cursed as you felt tears begin to gather at the corners of your eyes. You blamed it on the alcohol. Really, you shouldn’t be getting so emotional over such a childish thought, but with the moon shining beautifully in the sky and crickets chirping around you, honesty found itself coaxed to your lips.

“It makes me hope that he wasn’t alone. That he had someone at his side that he could talk to, not out of duty or respect, but as a friend. That someone was there for him on beautiful nights like this.”

You hated the way your voice wavered, unintentionally letting frustration weave its way between your words. It was stupid thought, a foolish thought of a naive mortal. It probably was an insult to project such immature emotions onto beings like the gods. And yet the more you thought about it, the more sorrow weighed at your heart. You felt a tear slip down your cheek.

“I would think so,” he replied.

It was such a simple statement from your companion, and yet as his shared sentiments sunk in, more tears began to flow. It was embarrassing, it was frustrating, you wanted to die. His words really shouldn’t have meant as much as they did. He was supposedly a mere mortal like you, but… The relief that filled your chest was almost impossible to bear. All you could do was cry.

A chuckle came as a finger brushed your tears away. You could barely hold his gaze for a second before you looked away in embarrassment. You felt your face begin to flush and your heart begin to beat. Did he really have to look at you like that? With amusement? With an undeniable warmth that turned his amber eyes positively molten?

“I’m sure he was very thankful for them too.”

[introvert-celeste]

Friendships I wish we could have seen/seen more of in SU:

JASPER AND AMETHYST - this comes as a surprise to no one, especially those who have followed me for awhile

Amethyst and Lapis - they would've took HELLA naps

Bismuth and Jasper - they're both super beefy, they both love fighting, they both love puns. They would go from bitter rivals to besties after just one fight. Maybe even more 😉

Steven and Peedee - I just love all the potential for silly Peedee / Pink Diamond (PD) parallels

Steven, Connie, and Peedee - Peedee would be the much-needed voice of reason for Steven and Connie to ignore. A very responsible third wheel.

Nephrite and Steven - she was literally in the first episode and was a recurring character in Steven's healing corruption journey. I need more.

Lapis, Peridot, and Jasper - I wish we could have gotten more Homeworld squad after Jailbreak but before Peri joined the CGs, but alas, Malachite happened.

Peridot and Garnet - I just think they're neat. I wish I could be an aroace gremlin to a tall, badass lesbian

Lapis and Jasper - It would be funny to see them trying so hard to be normal around each other but Jasper just can't, CANNOT talk to Lapis without bringing up Malachite. She doesn't want to talk about it, but she just can't stop herself.

All four of the main Pearls - sounds fun in theory but Pearl and Yelp would immediately start arguing while Volley and Bloop dissociate in a corner. It would be sad but funny, as most Pearl scenes tend to be.

Amethyst and Volley - they would have so much fun doing human stuff together, until Ame starts to notice similarities between Volley and Rose, and then it starts to get weird.

Greg and Vidalia - idk I just like their dynamic. Greg needs more interactions with human adults.

[ruumirmir]

Reprise of a rolling mist

Part 1 Part 2 (soon)

☽◯☾ Summary - You, the revered God of Healing and Mist, one of the oldest friends of Zhongli, are not one to be easily taken down, but alas, in the Archon war of brutal massacres, you can’t escape death for long.  ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Characters - Zhongli, (minor) Cloud Retainer, (minor) Madame Ping ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Tags - Zhongli x Reader || Gender Neutral || Angst || Eventual happy ending || Description of blood, violence, and fatal injuries || Mention of death   ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Word count - 1.2k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ☽◯☾ Rumour◇ says - my first ever fanfic to be published on tumblr. In case you haven’t seen my previous post, please do! It has some context in it. I hope i did peepaw some justice,, as much as I love him, it was slightly hard to pin his personality down especially in this wild scenario. I’ll probably belt out the part 2 really soon cause I’m done with it, just gotta decorate the post lmao.

‎• ——————————————————————— The nearby corpse of a beast twitches once before falling still. The loud ringing in your head gets louder by the passing minute. Mouth set into a grimace, you roll onto your back and hack out a wet cough.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It's hard to breathe with a gaping hole in your torso, still fresh and bloody. Your half-lidded eyes focus onto a speck of ash, floating up to melt into the night air. ‎  ‎

‎ ‎ ‎

The God of War doesn’t fear. No. He is the one who’s feared. And yet...

“No...”, Morax kneels there, watching his old friend, laid upon the charred grass.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Your once lustrous hair, now melds into the soot-stained ground, tainted by blood and grime. Your breaths come shallow and short. For all the dust and debris left in the battle's wake, Mt. Tianheng had a pleasant breeze to offer.

His palm find its way to yours; cold to the touch. Fingers tighten around you, and the clarity slowly returns to your hazy eyes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

The stench of burnt flesh permeates the air. His gaze lingers over the yawning cavity in your body; charred at the edges. From such a pair of gods, its not Morax who wields the power to heal and mend. It’s not you who possesses the energy to do so.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And so. his hands tremble uselessly over your gut, or the lack thereof.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

His most trusted. His closest companion. His oldest friend... The one who shares countless memories with him. The one who had promised to do so for many more years to come.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

"M-morax," his name spoken like a sigh. The corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile. Your stomach flares in pain when you fight back a strangled whine. "I am... not your burden to bear amidst a battle."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

He sits by you, pained. “Hush... do not strain yourself by talking.” You lie before him, bleeding.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

“O great Rex Lapis, won't you be kind? Won't you be wise? Renounce your lands and people? Spare us all a calamity from befalling those subjects of yours? It’s the least of your payment... for eons of slaughter caused by your hands”

A great many creatures had cackled, with many more swarming in. The seething mass of... beastly wasps, misshapen and overgrown, were all too eager for a massacre. A hivemind; disgustingly coordinated in brains and brawn. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

By the first rumbling of his meteorite that bombed over Mt. Tianheng, a familiar billowing mist had rolled forward to assist. Whether in your solid body, or a lashing mist, it was hard to quell the pyro gnats. ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

The grass is stained red by now.  He takes your hand and grips it tight, to his chest. You brush your fingers over his bruised knuckles.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ By the second rumbling of raining spears, Morax’s harsh orders had sent the adepti and yakshas scrambling towards the unprotected city of Liyue. . . . By the third rumbling of his shield molding around you... a flaming projectile had already shot clean through your torso.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

You need to fight to keep your eyes open.  From a simple flesh wound... what a joke. Your not the admired deity of recovery, just in name, are you?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Your fingers twitch, tightening around his robes. "Help me sit upright..."

His sharp exhale falls upon your brows, and with the utmost softest touch, You’re pulled up against his torso. Your head sags against his shoulder, where you can feel the thick pool of sorrow under his skin.

"Please... I do not want to cause you more hurt," The words fall hollow from his lips. He holds you up gently, and you can finally focus on his face.  … where you’re met with a wet shine to his eyes.

"What... are you trying to do?" His mouth trembles downwards ever so slightly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

But you... you break out in a rebellious smile, don’t you?

The pain is unbearable. And you laugh all the harder for it. Sweat beads your forehead, and your fingers dig into his arm when he presses into your stomach to slow the bleeding. You bite out a groan. It burns.

"Don't look at me like that Morax", you pant. "This... this is but child’s play for a healer of my caliber...."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Yet, your life trickles out like the grains of sand in an hourglass, and your vision flickers. 

He wipes the blood off your lip, clearly vexed, "You are still yourself, I see. Even as you lay here, near death, you are still joking."

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

"Just... won’t you humor me one last time?" You rasp out, feeling faint. All sensations except the gritting pain have left already. "Lend me some energy- so my body can return to what it once was..."

"Because... I, the Healer God of Mist, am alone the revered one... who holds mortality at my fingertips..." your voice breaks towards the end, but you still flash a smile of dogged arrogance, don’t you? (There is nothing but a theory borne from your feverish thoughts.)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

He gazes at you; minutes away from the end. The god who holds no regrets, who has not one ounce of fear in their voice. (You have never been more terrified of death, for you only know how to run from it.) With a melancholy rustle of feathers, comes another soft voice, "Ever so conceited, until the very end...”, Cloud retainer murmurs into the night.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

His skin glows alight, veins illuminated on his chest and arms. His gnosis ignites for your fanatical whims. It always did.  "How could I ever refuse you...?", his trembling voice, so quiet. You’re met with a familiar embrace.

‎ … ‎ ‎ ‎ “If mortals pray to gods in their time of need, who does a god pray to?”

Two drops fall to your neck, rolling away until they wet your clothes.

“No one.” His smile is soft, and voice raspy. “A god can only pray to himself... but, he may have hope in others.” ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

Your body slowly starts to dissipate into millions of droplets of condensation that scatter into the air, where the wind blows parts of you away, and away. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The soft tunes of a zither ring out into the air, permeating the atmosphere with a slow melody. An adeptus sits atop a nearby rock, her eyes downcast.

ah. ‘Ping's zither’, you sigh. ‘How kind of her.’

And he smiles through his tears.

Isn't it beautiful?

A great rolling mist dissolves into the air. With dust and ash in the air, it swirls and rises up and above. The wasted grassland is littered with thousands of droplets that shimmer like stars as the moonlight reflects off them. It is as beautiful. as it is empty.

On a night like this, Streetward rambler’s tune graces the wind, until her fingers bleed. Cloud Retainer sheds no tears, but know that she holds your memory well.

And you, Rex Lapis,

Morax,

you weep for me.

Taglist - @ainescribe ||  @theorchardcollective  || @flos-historia​ || @nightrayseishina ||  @thesparklingwriter

[something-tofightfor]

The Truth Is Out There: Soft Light

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Art Conservator/Restoration Specialist FBI Agent

Word Count: 2,785

Chapter Rating: NSFW - Explicit! (lots of sexual content. language. continued accidental drug use/effects, Marcus in this state is his own damn warning)

Series Warnings: Sex Pollen (with a twist), no use of Y/N, female reader insert, Reader works for the FBI in art restoration/conservation and has a nickname that is used often by Marcus. In this house we cannot stand Teresa and Jane and that is reflected in this story.

Summary: You and Marcus continue to experience the effects of the Lapis ... and neither of you will complain about what it’s making possible. 

Author’s Note: Another short one - but this is packed with good stuff. Enjoy. 

Inbox is open, as always. Come talk about Marcus with me!

Masterlist / Unrequited / One Breath / The Truth / This Is Not Happening / Three Words

The man’s eyes rolled back as he shut them, both fingers disappearing into his mouth so he could suck them clean. Oh, fuck. Your lips parted as you watched, and when he pulled them free, you swallowed hard at the sight of his damp skin. “Sweet.” He wet his lips, opening his eyes and seeking yours before he said anything else. “You taste sweet.” Bullshit, but I’ll take it. 

You expected him to reach for the box of condoms on the table, but when Marcus didn’t, instead leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours while he gripped the pillows beneath your head, you sighed again, both hands going to his hips. “Marcus.” He shifted his position, straddling your body - but he didn’t pull his head back. 

There wasn’t an opportunity for you to speak again before he began to rock his hips, the weight of him sliding over your lower belly and the slick space between your thighs. He was breathing hard, hot air escaping him in short bursts and hitting you with each of his movements. And you touched him without shame - both hands caressing his skin, fingers dimpling it when you urged him to drag against you instead of thrust. 

You bent your knees and lifted your hips, providing more friction - and then it was Marcus’ turn to gasp as he was caught off guard, a spurt of warmth coating your lower belly and dripping down, even as he kept moving. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I -” He began to pant, turning his head to rest his temple against yours. “I didn’t want to -” 

“Be quiet.” You whispered the words, hands still on Marcus. “Don’t apologize.” He hummed as you groaned against his ear, your body still moving to meet Marcus’ as he kept going, too. You’d both come - Marcus spilling all over your skin and the evidence of your pleasure sticky between your legs, but it hadn’t made a difference in the way you felt. It’s starting to hurt. I need him, and …  

He was still just as hard as he had been before, and you were nowhere near sated. “Tell me what you want me to do now.” His voice low, Marcus kissed the corner of your eye. “Tell me what you need.”

“You.” Arching your back, you trapped him between your bellies, Marcus freezing in place at the added pressure. “I need you.” The mattress shifted with his movement as he groped for the box, and you heard the sound of it tearing open. But you didn’t see it because your eyes were tightly shut, your hands pressed against the curve of his lower back and hip. “Marcus, please.” 

When he pushed upward so that he was kneeling again, you let yourself sag against the mattress, one hand sliding over your stomach and lower, your fingers moving through the mess he’d left there. Swirling them in a slow circle, you shifted your hips, finally opening your eyes and finding Marcus staring down at you, one side of his mouth lifted in an almost smirk. “Do you want to keep touching yourself?” He trailed off, arching a brow. “Or do you want to see what I can do?” 

“I’m yours, Marcus.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, but once they’d been uttered, you had no desire to take them back. He hadn’t been expecting them, though, shock overtaking his features while he watched you, the motion of his hand slowing almost to a stop with his fingers firmly wrapped around himself. I mean it. “All yours.” 

It was the truth - drug or no drug. 

You’d been out on dates and gone to bed with other men since you’d dated Marcus. It was a poor attempt at doing whatever you could to push the man out of your head because you’d thought that it was necessary. But even though your experience with Marcus Pike was limited, you knew that it would take something monumental to compare to what you’d felt when you were with him - and what you still felt, even as only his friend. 

You heard the rip of foil, and then lowered your gaze to watch as he rolled the condom over himself, his teeth gritted at the sensation. “I’m going to try to be gentle with you, Scully, but I can’t promise anything. I -”

“Just fuck me, Marcus.” You spat the words out, your tone even more needy and desperate than it had been earlier, eyes rising to meet his again. “I don’t need gentle. Not right now.” Your body felt like it was on fire, the slow simmer sparking over your skin, though it was much more intense where he was touching you. “Please.” 

Any other day, you would have been embarrassed that you were begging, especially when Marcus had already been more than attentive. You would have hated the way you’d spoken to him - such a crass way to admit for the first time that you wanted Marcus no matter how you could have him. What you said and wanted was the truth, but you hadn’t planned on telling Marcus so much so quickly. 

“Please?” He let out a shaky breath as he moved his hand again, still staring at you. “Please?” You whimpered at the sound of his voice, fingers dipping lower and skating over your skin, even though they didn’t linger. I didn’t think he’d be like this but it’s… “Well, since you asked so nicely…” He rolled his neck out, briefly closing his eyes. “Of course.” 

Marcus urged your thighs apart with a gentle nudge of one knee, inching closer as soon as you made it possible. He said your name just before he glanced down, your gaze following his to focus on the way he guided himself into place, adjusting his knees to give himself a better position. 

He hitched your leg up and over his hip and then leaned in, inhaling as he rocked forward. It took you by surprise, his answering grin enough to keep you grounded -and focused on him.

But you also felt relief as Marcus slid into you for the first time, the man bracing himself above you, the comforter fisted in both large hands. “Holy shit, Marcus.” This is better than anything I imagined.

You clawed at his body, gasping when he stopped and pulled back. There was a short pause and then he thrust forward and buried himself in you, the motion forcing an exhale that was followed by his name, Marcus grunting in reply as it spilled past your lips. Tightening your grip on him, your focus was torn between each thrust and the way his skin rippled over the muscle in his lower back. 

With every stroke, Marcus shattered a small part of what was left of your resolve. The motion of his hips was smooth and rhythmic but forceful, sliding the two of you up the mattress and toward the headboard a little at a time. “Whoops.” He backed off and stared down at you, hips slowing. “You alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Flexing your hips upward, you met him halfway, one hand traveling up and over his back. “You?” 

“I’ll be even better in a few minutes.” Pulling back, Marcus swiveled his hips in a lazy circle, breathing slowly. “And so will you.” He began moving faster again and you bent both legs so that you could brace your feet on the mattress to keep yourself steady. It wasn’t quite a brutal pace, but you panted with each motion, Marcus filling you over and over. 

You held tight to his shoulders, urging his upper body closer to yours. Marcus let you, one of his arms extending beneath the pillow you were laying on so that he could put some weight on that elbow. It also put his mouth in the proximity of yours, but you only managed one quick kiss before he was panting into your ear, the sound a welcome one. 

“Want this. Want you.” He groaned, the sound a reaction to the way your fingers dug into his shoulders. “Want us.” You cried out at that, a wail that was accompanied with the lift of your hips from the bed, meeting him halfway and forcing him deeper. 

It didn’t matter that it was the Lapis doing the talking for him. It didn’t matter that it had taken him months and the fear of losing you for good to finally make him admit what he truly wanted. In that moment, it was everything you wanted to hear, and before you could stop yourself, you were replying - the words a surprise to both of you, though they were no less true. 

“I knew it.” You rolled your hips as he paused, trying to catch his breath. “Want that too.” He sped up again, the movement of his hips pressing your lower body into the mattress and giving you very little room to react. Instead, you spread your legs wider, the one remaining hooked around him. “Fuck, Marcus, this is perfect.”  

He came then, the man’s cry muffled by the way he turned his head toward your neck, warm breath caressing your skin even as his lips made contact. You could feel him pulsing within you - the motion of his hips stilled aside from short, erratic jerking as he emptied into the condom. Please. Please let me come too. Let it feel better. You hummed, your hold on him loosening as you stroked over his back with your fingertips. 

But you weren’t close - and he seemed to know it, finally backing off enough so that he could look down at you, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. “I’m still fucking …” He groaned, closing his eyes. “Still hard. I’m sorry, I -” Marcus shook his head, swearing under his breath. “I need -” 

“I know.” His hips were moving again, slower than before but still enough that you could feel it, your body reacting without pause. “Get a new one on and come back, Marcus. I need you.” 

That was all it took - the man pushing upright and then reaching between you as he pulled out, his eyes only leaving your face when they had to. You felt empty without him - your spread legs falling limp onto the mattress along with your arms as your chest heaved. 

You kept your eyes on him as he inched backward and off of the bed, licking your lips as he pulled the condom free and tied it off, his large hand once again wrapping around his length. Marcus groaned at the contact, swallowing hard and closing his eyes. “I feel like I could do this all night.” He sounded almost broken when he spoke, the words pouring out. “But there’s no way. We can’t. You can’t. I can’t.” 

“We can try.” You were breathing hard again, eyes still on him as he stood a few feet away, stroking himself. “We should try, Marcus.” Curling your toes, you gasped at the feeling of your fingertip as it circled over your swollen flesh and then lower, your touch a poor substitute for him but still something. “I -” 

“Let me do that.” He rifled through his hair before climbing back into the bed on both knees, but Marcus wasn’t looking at you. He was focused on your hand and the way it moved, the flex of your wrist as you touched yourself - one finger turning into two, both of them curled slightly on each retreat. 

“But you already -” He was still stroking himself, the man’s thumb circling slowly over his head while he gazed down at you. “Oh, fuck.” You whimpered when he settled his free hand on your thigh, both of your fingers stilling inside of you. “Marcus, I -”

“Not with my hand.” He smiled then, the expression cutting through the tension in the room briefly. “Got a taste earlier and now I want the real thing.” He urged your legs further apart and then leaned down, still kneeling on the bed between them. Marcus released himself with a quiet sigh and then used one hand to guide your leg over his shoulder. 

It lifted you slightly from the mattress, but when his palm settled on your other thigh, pushing out, you understood, widening the spread enough to give him as much space as possible. His hand slid up and then the pad of his thumb brushed over your knuckles before he hooked it beneath them, urging you to move your hand away and give him access. 

You moaned at the loss of your fingers - your mouth falling open as you shuddered. But before you could do anything else, they were both enveloped in a warm, wet heat, the suction of Marcus’ lips secure. His tongue worked to clean them off, urging your fingers apart within his mouth. You tried to speak, but only sounds came out, Marcus’ grip on you tightening. I can’t believe this is happening.

When he released your fingers, you made eye contact again, chest heaving. “Even better the second time.” He took a breath, gaze dropping. “Let’s see about the third.” 

His mouth was on you before you had a chance to reply, the hand on your inner thigh pulling that skin taut so that more of you was exposed to him. And Marcus didn’t waste any time, tongue delving straight into you, the man curling it as he explored and then flattening it to cover as much as possible - repeating the motion over and over as the pressure in your belly built. 

Part of you just wanted to come again, to see if it would take the edge off of the way you were feeling, to relax your body and just let you enjoy what was happening without feeling so overwhelmed. But he came twice already and he’s still… Your hips bucked up and you pressed harder against his mouth, Marcus moaning at the feeling and pursuing his lips around you, the tip of his tongue working the tender bud of flesh while his hands urged you to stay in place.

There was entirely too much to focus on - his touch, his mouth, the way his patchy beard rubbed against your damp skin, the smell of him and of you in the cool air of the bright room - and so you stopped trying, relaxing against the blankets and closing your eyes, one hand rising so that you could cradle the back of his head. 

He was going to make you come - and in record time, if the way your body was reacting was any indication. Marcus felt it too, his pace picking up after he’d repositioned his hand so that he could rub two fingers over you while his mouth worked beneath it, the flat of his tongue licking along and into you in an unhurried but steady pace. “Right there.” You breathed out the words as you dug your heel into his back, your own arching off of the bed. “Fuck Marcus, just like -” 

That was all you got out before you started to shake, your body convulsing as you came - the muscles in your legs tightening as your core contracted, heat in your belly spreading lower, even as he continued - refusing to pull away and watch and instead keeping his mouth in place to taste. 

The bedding was likely ruined beneath you - you could feel the way you were dripping past his lips and onto it. 

Marcus didn’t care, though, pulling another smaller orgasm out of you when he backed his mouth off enough to slip two fingers into you, too. The man’s breath caught in his throat when you clamped around them, whimpers the only sound you were capable of making. “Wasn’t expecting that.” He looked up and you caught his eye, surprised to see a smirk back on his face, his lips glistening. “You feel amazing.” 

“Yeah?” You tried to smile but were almost breathless, and swallowed hard before speaking again, still staring down at him between your legs. “Well you look amazing right now, and -”

“Did it help?” He glanced down and then frowned, blinking slowly. “Are you -”

“No.” It was the truth, and from the understanding expression he gave you in return, you knew that you weren’t the only one that felt that way. “No, and I don’t…” I don’t want you to think that you’re not doing what you need to. Marcus leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh before he eased your leg back down and then moved up to kneel over you, hands reaching down to gather you into his arms. 

“Good.” He mumbled the words into your ear, sighing. “Because I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” 

—

 tag list reblog coming soon

[dark-night-hero]

Getting to know my... genshin edition.

The one I started playing genshin for:

Diluc Ragnvindr, my love so sweet I will never the way you pulled me away from Valorant into playing genshin impact when I saw that one fanart of you.

The one I stayed for:

Kaeya Alberich, my darling, my sweetheart. I have no other ways to describe you but the reason why I manage to make it this far. I'm dramatic as f. Funny how I came because of your brother but the moment you show up in the screen while I'm playing I knew you are my type.

My current main:

Heizou Shikanoin, if it isn't my lovely child detective. I'm sorry I could not give you the best thing that was suitable for you but it's okay, it'll work out somehow.

The one I wish was my main / My future main:

Ayato Kamisato as the one I wish is my main but I don't have a good team let alone artifacts to give him. And yes, I have him. And yes, he is a good display on my teapot. Dainsleif as my future main so please please please please please make him playable.

The first character I made a fanfic for:

Diluc Ragnvindr, it just happened that his birthday was around the corner when I started playing genshin impact and because he was my first crush in genshin that I made him a bday fic HAHA it's the HOME ff.

The one whom I've made the most fanfic|imagines|drabbles|one shot:

Morax | Rex Lapis | Zhongli, maybe it was because of his interesting lore, something me and my cousin have talked about just this morning. I cannot stop writing, nor do I think I would ever ran out of ideal although most of it is angst because Zhongli is such a angst material, about this guy. His lore is very interesting as he is connected to quite a number of people/beings in the game, living up to his name as the former geo archon, he was a man who went through alot, lost a lot and gained a lot. He knows something yet keeps it disclosed only to himself mostly because of the contracts. He is such an interesting character with an angst material background.

The one I wish to write about:

Dainsleif, personally I think I can make something about him rn but most of the time I depend on the lore of the character before I started writing so that I can use their lore angst them to make them lore realistic. But right now I think that we are still lacking a lot of information about this guy sooooo yeah. Al Haitham on the other hand, I don't but I am yet to reach the Sumeru archon quest so I am yet to analyse his character and his lore. I have a few things in mind for him but for now, it is just my wish to write for him as I am yet to put it into words, on screen and paper.

My overall favourite character(s):

Ayato Kamisato and Kaeya Alberich. Yes, they are two. And I love them equally (..... i think, yes, i think.) That I cannot chose to pick one out of the two of them so might as well have a tie on top of my list.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: I do not own the used pictures. Credits to it's own respective artist, and if the artist wants it to be taken down, I will gladly do so hihi.

[dragonlapis]

Here's an idea I just had

Madoka's dad discovering magical girl by finding an injured one and takes her home to help her heal up...Depending if Madoka is a magical girl or not will depend on her reactions...I'll assume said injured girl is different from the holy quintet

[triangle-strategy-notes]

Ezana Concept Art

Concept art and translations for Ezana! Translation notes and image id under the cut.

Translation notes:

On the first page when Ikushima is talking about how he feels pressure to make his drawings beautiful, he's actually saying something more like "Usually with sexy woman I go 'I'm obligated to/I must make them beautiful!'... " but no matter how I phrased it the wording felt awkward in English, so I changed the sentence to go without the quotes.

There's a note on the second page above the monochrome sketch that was pretty hard to read (the middle character in particular might have been scribbled out?), so I kind of guessed at the rough meaning from the surrounding characters. The first kanji seems to be 玄, which has the general meaning of "mysterious, occultness, black, deep, profound," and the third kanji seems to be 器, which has the general meaning of "utensil, vessel, receptacle, implement, instrument, ability, container, tool, set". I went with "mysterious staff" as the meaning of the kanji together, also working off of the fact that it's. um. pointing at a staff that seems vaguely mysterious.

"Call forth the rain" was more literally just "rain," but it uses a particle at the end that has a vaguely commanding/requesting vibe to it, so I added extra words to convey that.

There's a part on the second page where I write "SHAMAN" in all caps. On that particular line, "Shaman" was written out using English phonetics, whereas on the rest of the page when I use the word it's the Japanese word for an equivalent concept.

"Lines like a weather map" is literally "isobar pattern". I'm assuming that most people aren't familiar with the word "isobar" (including myself) but from a brief google search, isobars are the lines that show up on a map when weather forecasts are trying to show the range of a storm and the barometric pressure specifically. Since it's (probably) not a commonly-known word, I just wrote out the "weather map" stuff instead.

"Sexy as it sounds" is a weird one. I think it's a portion of this phrase, which is defined as, "not existing despite seeming like it should", but just uses some different particles at the end which I'm assuming make it non-negative (e.g., "as sexy as it should be"). But I couldn't find a ton of examples of how the phrase is used though or what the differences in particles would be, so I just kind of went with the auto-translation I got from Deepl.

Image id:

[id: Multiple images from the Triangle Strategy artbook surrounding Ezana Qlinka. There is a page with a large colored portrait of her, along with a smaller line drawing in the corner. There are two illustrator's notes at the bottom: the first is, "Ezana has a really lovely ethnic design. Actually, after the character's portrait was completed, Mr. Ikushima redid all the linework, which added a lot to the character's beauty! (Yoshiura Rina)" and the second is, "Ezana is primitive, spiritual, and also a mysterious kind of character. With sexy women I usually feel pressure to make them beautiful, but strangely she was very easy to draw. I like how the natural colors are interspersed with the lapis lazuli. (Ikushima Naoki)". On the second page, the top half has several drawings of Ezana in a design close to her canon one. It is titled, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman)". There is one drawing where Ezana is without her headdress, captioned, "If there are different ranks of shaman, I think it'd be fine to start out without the headdress." There is a note pointing to her headress labeled, "Sheep's skull with some parts cut off," and another that reads, "Horns. Red and blue cord is coiled." Another note points to a full sheep skull and reads, "Origin. It's been shaved away starting at about this area." It points to roughly the middle of it. Another note points to a feather ruff she wears, labeled, "Crow feathers". Her staff is labeled, "A staff with elements similar to a dreamcatcher". There is a portrait of her from the back, with a note reading, "Back of the dress is open." The second half of the page is titled, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman) Large Brainstorming WIP". There are 5 drawings, each of a different potential design. The first is similar to her canon design, but with darker skin and a black dress. The second is very colorful, and has the notes, "Hear the song from the wind and go into a trance" as well as "Lines like a weather map" and "I think it would look better if the saturation was lowered a little or the colors were narrowed down a bit." The third drawing has a purple cloak with eyes on it, and seems to be throwing seeds into the air, captioned, "Sowing seeds toward the sky." The fourth design uses more pastels/bright colors, and has a drum at her hip. She seems to be saying, "Thunder!" and there is a note that reads, "Beat the cover and let it resonate through the air." The fifth drawing is of a woman wearing a full mask and a heavy cloak made of grass fibers. It has several bullet points including, "Weather Manipulator (Shaman)," "Female SHAMAN", "Indigenous - Separate wind and lightning magic", and "As sexy as it sounds." She holds a staff which is labeled, "Mysterious Staff" and also has a note reading, "Indigenous". She seems to be saying, "Bring forth the rain..." There are two illustrator's notes on the bottom. The first reads, "Mr. Asano requested that I add in leopard print, and I thought about how I could make it unique. (Naoki Ikushima)" and the second reads, "Looking at it again, it's a really sexy outfit. And it's great in battle! (Tomoya Asano)" /end id]

[siderealscribblings]

Goin back to back this weekend; have some early access Games of Divinity

-------

By the time Makoto touched down in the merchant district, he was reasonably sure he had shaken Furina’s gardes and any nosy Tri-Commission officers that were looking for him. He didn’t care to be fussed over by would-be babysitters and he didn’t want to involve Miko unless he absolutely had to. Makoto held grudges like misers held money, and the one against Miko he held close to his heart.  

Touching down in an alleyway, Makoto vaulted a row of boxes and slipped into the bustling crowd. The streets were packed with vendors selling everything from hand-cut cor lapis jewelry to fried dough balls from Mondstadt. Dialects from all corners of the world floated above music playing from cafes and street performers drew small crowds that made navigating the streets difficult. It was easy to get lost in the crowd by tugging his hat down and following a pack of mercenaries from Sumeru. Makoto’s contact didn’t give him an address but he didn’t need one; he just strained his ears listening for a familiar melody. Every bard worth their salt would be performing this weekend; he just needed to listen until found the one he was looking for. 

“A foreign prince wandering alone in a mysterious country…that sounds like the start of a good story.”

A warm wind jostled Makoto’s earrings and he turned to meet a slender young man dressed in dandelion green and sipping on a frozen drink through a straw. 

“Or a bad light novel,” Makoto said, watching Venti lick some of the blue syrup off his hand. “What the hell is that and where did you get it?” 

“It’s a firewine slush; snagged it from one of the merchants down the road,” Venti replied, taking a long drag through the straw with a wince. “Ahh, coldcoldcold!” 

“Every day I wake up and regret accepting your patronage,” Makoto sighed, accepting an arm around his shoulder with only mild squirming.

People touching him was new and unusual, but Barbatos had no concept of personal space and hadn’t since Makoto had first made the god’s acquaintance behind a stack of wine barrels in Ritou. Living his life in a golden cage made it hard to make actual friends and he had to take companionship where he could get it. At least Venti didn’t kiss his ass like his courtiers did; it was actually refreshing to have someone unafraid to call Makoto an idiot to his face. 

“Come on, we all know I’m the best thing that happened to you, chickadee,” Venti said, flicking the Anemo Vision dangling from Makoto’s necklace. “You get here okay?”

“Well enough; I landed on Focalors’ palace and got an earful from her,” Makoto snickered. 

“Oh, you met Her Royal Sogginess already?” Venti said, swinging in front of Makoto and walking backwards so they could talk. “How did you find her?” 

“...short.” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

“You’re one to talk about me talking,” Makoto sniffed. “What are you doing out here; you told me to find you playing in a tavern.” 

“I was…andthentheythrewmeout,” Venti muttered, busying his mouth with more alcohol. 

“For what?” 

“Upstaging the other talent, I imagine,” Venti sighed airily. “The music of gods is not easily appreciated by mortals who only want hurdy-gurdy dance music about women with fat bottoms-” 

“You need to stop drinking,” Makoto said, snatching the nearly empty mug away from Venti and taking a sniff. “Yech, this smells like a blueberry pissed in a jar of rubbing alcohol.” 

“Tastes like it too,” Venti burped. “Still the only thing in this city with any punch to it…where’s Miko?”

“Fraternizing with Focalors I guess,” Makoto shrugged. “How the hell should I know?” 

“I said bring her,” Venti sighed. 

“I’m not her bloody babysitter,”  Makoto sneered. “After two weeks on a boat, I need a break from Guuji Yae’s wit…or what passes for it.” 

“I thought I told you this was serious?” Venti said, as seriously as someone with blue slushee lips could. 

“If it’s so serious, why are you drunk?” 

“Because it’s serious!” Venti hissed, grabbing Makoto’s elbow and dragging him down a side-street away from the bustling crowds. “Look, in all likelihood, everything is going to be sunshine and kittens; cold wars are cold because nobody wants them to get hot. We just need to make a few sparks, swing our metaphorical spears around—literal spears in Morax’s case—and hope everything stabilizes before the party ends!” 

“...and if it doesn’t?” Makoto asked. 

“To be honest…I haven’t thought that far ahead; I got to the call-Morax part of the plan and hopefully he will help me out with the next part,” Venti said brightly. “Relax; all you need to do is look pretty and try not to make too many enemies at the punch table.” 

“I can promise to do neither,” Makoto grumbled. “When is that old snake supposed to get here?” 

“Who are you referring to as a snake?” Makoto looked up, spying a slender figure with green hair perched on the ledge of a rooftop. 

“None of your concern,” Makoto sighed, shooing the stranger away and receiving a cold glare in return. “We’re in the middle of something; kindly find some other rooftop to haunt before I-” 

“Hang on, I know that voice!” Venti cried, snatching Makoto’s hat and using it to shield his eyes from the sun. “...hey, it is Xiao! What’s it been, twenty-five years since I last saw you?” 

“Twenty seven,” Xiao replied, hopping off the roof and landing light as a feather next to Venti. “Morax made no mention of your invitation to this gala…what are you doing here?” 

“Getting drunk,” Venti and Makoto replied at the same time. 

“That was a given,” Xiao sighed, looking Makoto up and down. “Who is this?” 

“Someone you should speak to with a little more respect,” Makoto said.

“Should I?” Xiao replied icily. 

“Heyyyyy let me introduce you guys!” Venti said, stepping between them before they could violently introduce themselves. “Makoto, Xiao; Xiao, Makoto. There, we’re all friends now.

“Are we?” Makoto asked. 

“You guys are both beloved and cherished Chosen of Anemo, so that practically makes us family!” Venti said, throwing his arms around both of their necks. “Where’s your man, Xiao?” 

“My…oh.” Xiao rolled his eyes. “Morax elected not to attend this gala to avoid ruffling the Hydro Sovereign's feathers…which I find remarkably considerate given that the last time he was here he was rudely assaulted by Neuvillette for no reason.” 

“The Hydro Sovereign?” Makoto echoed. “You told me he was a dragon, you didn’t tell me he was a Sovereign. Don’t tell me that fairy tale from Enkonomiya has any legitimate weight.” 

“It’s got more than weight; it has a big, scary dragon like all good fairy tales do,” Venti chuckled. “Speaking of dragons, I figured since Xiao was here, Morax would be as well but I haven’t seen scale or tail of that old sidewinder since I got here.” 

“Maybe he’s not coming; Miko said she spoke to someone from the Qixing before getting back on the boat, but for all I know she just moped around the bars until it was time to leave again,” Makoto shrugged.

“Wait, wait, are you telling me Morax might not have gotten my message?!” Venti hissed, grabbing Makoto’s lapels. 

“If you were that worried, you should have crawled out from a wine bottle and asked him yourself!” Makoto said, slapping Venti’s hands away. 

“Well why did you leave it up to Miko?! You should have gone yourself!” Venti snapped, poking Makoto in the chest. 

“Hi Qixing, it’s me, the son of the Raiden Shogun who nobody has heard about; please believe me and take me to your god!” Makoto sneered. “Miko is the only one of us with any goddamn clout!” 

“So you made her do your dirty work?!” 

“You’re making me do your dirty work; how is that any different?!” 

“Because you are my strongest-” Venti glanced at Xiao. “Second strongest soldier!” 

“Second strongest?!” 

“You’ve only had your Vision for ten years!” 

“I’ll show you second strongest you little-” 

“Oof, let go!” Xiao had witnessed many battles in his life, but the feeble struggle between two skinny little dandies was far and away the most pathetic fight he had ever seen. 

Lo and behold the Anemo Archon, Xiao thought, watching Venti fail to escape Makoto’s headlock. Thank Celestia Morax behaves with a little more dignity…I can’t imagine pledging myself to someone like-

“Psst, what’s going on?” 

“Barbatos and his new pet project are in the middle of-” Xiao flinched as he suddenly recognized the voice, whipping around to come face-to-face with a pair of glowing red eyes. “Wh-What are you doing here?” 

“Aiya, you ghost us for six months and that’s the first thing out of your mouth when you see me again?” Hu Tao sighed. “You might want to brush up on your manners before you meet Lady Furina; they’re touchy about manners in this country.” 

“Hey, is that Unbound Flame?” Venti’s voice was muffled by the cape Makoto had pulled over his head but a quick elbow to his gut freed him long enough to right his outfit. 

“It’s Hu Tao these days,” Hu Tao said. 

“Since when?” Venti asked. 

“Since the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s last director died and his ‘granddaughter’ took over the family business,” Hu Tao said cheerfully. “It pays to have mortals who will give you a cover story every once and a while. You still go by Venti?” 

“Why mess with a classic?” Venti chuckled. “On the subject of names, the oaf in the straw hat is-” 

“Makoto,” Makoto said, adjusting his hat with as much dignity as he could. “Let me guess, this lady is another random spirit from Liyue?” 

“Mmhmm!” Hu Tao said, eyes flickering as she leaned uncomfortably close and cocked her head. “And what does that make you? Not a god…not a person…not a spirit…and not an animal, unless you’re hiding a tail under that coat-” 

“A-Animal?”

“Nothing to be ashamed of; I was a butterfly before I learned to grow a body,” Hu Tao remarked, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “You with Miko’s crew?” 

“She is with my crew, not the other way around!” Makoto insisted. “I have higher rank than she does; she’s just along to-” 

“Uh-huh, you’re very special,” Venti said, patting Makoto on the cheek absentmindedly. “Where’s your man, butterfly?” 

“Looking for you, songbird,” Hu Tao sighed, flicking a ring on her thumb inlaid with glowing golden stone. The ring pulsed, a wave of golden light rippling out and pinging off a heavy gold stone hanging off Xiao’s waist before spreading out and into the crowd.  “You are the biggest pain in the butt to get a hold of.” 

“You came here with Morax?” Xiao interjected. “He made me swear on his name to not start trouble in Fontaine; his presence here makes it very difficult to keep that promise.” 

“We’re not the ones starting trouble,” Hu Tao sighed. “Look, we have reason to believe that-” 

“Shhhh!” Venti hissed, pulling Hu Tao deeper into the alleyway and nervously glancing around the street. “Don’t blow our cover…look, I would have told Morax about this last month so he could change his travel plans. But I got caught and had to lie low for a while. The fact that I made it here without my braids getting torn off is a small miracle, but-” 

Venti grabbed Xiao’s lapel, dragging him in and hissing something in his ear before he could be pushed off. 

“...what?” Xiao said flatly. “You’re sure?” 

“Nope…but I hope to be very soon,” Venti said. “And if I am sure, I hope to have someone taller and much stronger than me by my side to help prevent it. I would have liked the Shogun to be here as well, but-” 

“=you will have to make due with me.” Makoto glanced behind him, craning his neck up at a tall, immaculately dressed young man who somehow felt older than the stones beneath his feet. Venti was an Archon; Makoto had been birthed from an Archon’s power. Yet this man was different from both of them; even the air that Makoto had become attuned to seemed heavier in his presence and he carried himself like someone who had seen and slain worse things than Makoto could even imagine. 

The magnitude of Morax in the flesh was somehow diminished by the tower of doughnuts he carried around on a large wooden stick. 

“You’re here?” Xiao said, stumbling forward and moving to bow until Zhongli caught him under one arm. “I-I thought you were staying home.” 

“Apologies for the sudden change of plans but someone said this was urgent,” Zhongli said, eyes turning to Venti. “Barbatos.” 

“Morax,” Venti said, glancing at the tower of doughnuts Zhongli carried with him.“Have you been looking for doughnuts this whole time?” 

“I was looking for you; I look less suspicious if I pretend to be a partygoer,” Zhongli said, turning to Makoto with a curious cock of his head. “...Makoto, I presume?” 

“Rex…Lapis…Morax, or whatever you’re called,” Makoto said, attempting to maintain some of his dignity in the presence of someone older than even his mother. 

“Rex Lapis Morax…that’s a bit much, even for me,” Zhongli said with a thoughtful nod, offering his rod of donuts to Hu Tao. “You look like your mother.” 

“Not as much as I used to, thanks to your friend,” Makoto laughed bitterly, nodding in Venti’s direction. “Please tell me you don’t plan on fighting with a donut stick.” 

“Course not; I plan on fighting with a doughnut stick,” Hu Tao said, dumping the doughnuts on the ground and spinning the stick between her fingers. “Ooh, cherrywood; you know what I like!” 

“And here I was concerned that you didn’t bring any weapons,” Makoto sighed. “While we’re at it, does anyone want to get a sausage on a stick or a pretzel as a backup-ow!” 

Makoto winced as Hu Tao clocked him in the nose with the tip of her stick.  

“You’re trying to be funny, but I was burying angry ghosts with toothpicks while your mama was still learning to swing a spear,” Hu Tao said, tucking the stick into her belt. 

“I can vouch for that; it was…interesting to watch,” Zhongli mused, lost in a violent memory before realizing where he was. “All that to say, we ought to speak somewhere more private…” 

Snapping his fingers, a large brown and gold teapot materialized in front of him, hovering in the air suspended by small clouds. 

“...do you have teacups to go with that?” Makoto asked as Zhongli took the lid off the pot. “Or do we have to take turns sipping from the-hey!” 

Venti pushed him forward, watching as a cloud of mist swirled around him and sucked him into the teapot. 

“...Anemo exalts the strangest people,” Zhongli said.

“Hey, being an absolute weirdo is a prerequisite for receiving any Vision, including Geo Visions,” Venti huffed, watching as Zhongli replaced the lid on the teapot and banished it again with a snap of his fingers. “Are we not going in with him?” 

“...eventually,” Zhongli said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Before we do…tell me how you suspect someone is planning to kill the Hydro Archon.”

[aranarumei]

the anomalous agate (epilogue)

for anyone who has no idea what this is about, go here for part one

for those who do, here's the ao3 link

there's a lot I want to say. the first, I guess, is that this isn't quite over—like I've mentioned many times before, I still have a bonus scene that's all hanzawa to tashiro. but this, here, is the end of the anomalous agate as it exists in seigi's pov, and as a case in the case files of jeweler richard.

out of curiosity, I found the longest case I could think of in the first two volumes of cfojr—case 2-3—and checked the word count. it totaled an approximate 21k, and with this epilogue, my case reaches the same total.

this is by far my favorite fic that I've ever written, so I could talk about it forever (I really might). but here, I won't say any more, and leave the epilogue under the cut:

case 2-x: the anomalous agate (epilogue)

Richard had always liked to read during his downtime. Rather than keep a stock of books in Jewelry Étranger, he liked to cart them back and forth from his home. Once, when I asked him if he’d ever considered purchasing e-books, we spent the next hour discussing the value of physical versus digital media. There were a lot of arguments for either side, but after analyzing the various pros and cons, Richard admitted that he just preferred the sensation of flipping pages and having the weight of a book in his hands. I tried to imagine Richard scrolling pensively through a tablet in his downtime, and the image was so jarring I almost apologized for asking about e-books in the first place.

Still, one of the cons we’d discussed about physical media was the fact that it took up way more space. Despite that fact, it felt like Richard always had a new book in his hands. I’d never seen his place, so I could only imagine that he lived in a palace with a sprawling library. Or, more realistically, a luxury apartment with a room the size of my apartment allocated for his books.

Most times, the things he read were texts about jewels that went entirely over my head, or books so thick that they were similarly impenetrable. Sometimes they were both. Today, though, Richard was flipping through the pages of a thin book with an illustrated cover. It was a deep blue color, and though Richard’s hand obscured some of the illustration, the blue of the sky was dotted with golden stars—almost like lapis lazuli.

This was enough to pique my interest, and I had downtime in spades, so I sidled up behind him.

From his relaxed position in one of the red armchairs, Richard glanced up at me. I must have successfully conveyed I’ll pace around the room unless you entertain me with my face, because the corners of his mouth quirked upwards.

It had to be an awkward angle, looking up to see me leaning against the back of his chair and unrepentantly staring, but Richard made every move with elegance. I watched the way his hair began to fall away from his face as he tilted his head, opening up his expression into something a little more unreserved.

“What book is that?” I asked. 

“Le Petit Prince.” 

Le Petit? Sheepish, I said, “My English isn’t that great yet…”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “It’s French,” he said, and though the words themselves weren’t laced with malice, I could read the obvious Surely, Seigi, by now you must have learned enough English to distinguish it from other languages in his expression. “The translated title would be The Little Prince. I was reminded of it recently, so I’ve been rereading portions.”

I peered down at the page Richard had open. Sure enough, though I recognized the letters, none of the words made any sense. “What’s it about?” 

“Many things. But there was a particular scene…” He thumbed through the pages until I saw a simple illustration of a fox and a boy dressed in green. “The novel deals with a lot of things—it has a lot to say about the world, but one of my favorite moments in the travels of our titular character is when he meets the fox. The fox asks to be tamed by the little prince—here, he explains what it means.” Without hesitation, Richard translated the French before me into Japanese. “‘But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.’”

“…Tame?” 

“It’s an interesting word, isn’t it?” Richard said. “The fox defines it first as ‘to establish ties,’ but it’s still a peculiar way of expressing friendship. More truthful, perhaps.” He smiled. “Either way, I was reminded of the complications of your troublesome client.” 

There was only one person he could’ve been referring to—the one who’d bought blue lace agate earrings just the other day. I wondered if Richard had remembered the book because he’d seen the same bit of Tashiro’s green hoodie that I had, or because the cover had reminded him of lapis lazuli. But these musings took only a moment; I was stuck on the word tame.

It wasn’t something I’d ever heard used in the context of friendship, but the idea clicked with me. The word evoked a kind of dependency that I felt keenly. I glanced towards Richard. A tamed creature becomes unique, huh? If it was me… Richard couldn’t be anything but a prince.

“What’s on your mind?” Richard asked. 

I’d only recently put my foot in my mouth by comparing us to a married couple, so I refrained from trying to make comparisons. Instead, I chose to bring up a different curiosity of mine. “I was just thinking about how quick Hanzawa’s last visit was. I wish I could’ve heard him explain his choice a little more…” 

Richard set his book to the side. “The blue lace agate?” 

“It wasn’t even something you’d mentioned, so…” 

“I think that was Hanzawa-san’s way of showing initiative,” Richard said. “And it was a rather perfect stone for him. I was not needed for his choice in the slightest.” 

“That’s not true,” I said. “I—there’s no way what you said was unimportant.” 

Glossing past my words, Richard continued his speculation. “I’d mentioned, then, that agate is often dyed to enhance its visual appeal—judging by Hanzawa-san’s reaction to the word ‘truth,’ I’m inclined to think this is somewhat of a sore spot. But what it did tell me was that he was sincerely considering the jewel as a reflection of himself.” 

“…You really know everything,” I said. I’d run into Hanzawa twice, but Richard’s understanding of him matched mine.

“Not everything,” Richard said. “Agate is not metamorphic like lapis lazuli, but its banding pattern demonstrates a subtler uniqueness and complexity. I would think that choosing a naturally colored type of agate, which carries these qualities inherently, was a matter of pride for Hanzawa-san.” 

Pride was really the perfect word—I suddenly remembered Hanzawa’s words about needing strength to be anomalous. To be happy as you were… like Mami-san had expressed, it was certainly a hard thing to do.

“Maybe not everything,” I allowed, “but seriously, you’re spot on. I talked with Hanzawa a lot more than you did, but I didn’t make any of those connections.” 

Richard straightened up in his armchair, obscuring his face from my view. With a sigh, he said, “In this case… I have something of an unfair advantage.”

“Unfair?” I asked, leaning to get a better look at his face.

“Hanzawa-san and I… I believe the expression is, ‘cut from the same cloth?’ That’s the way we are. It makes me feel ill-suited to speak to him, and I suspect the feeling is reciprocated.”

“I don’t think you’re alike at all, though,” I said, studying the mild discomfort on Richard’s face. 

He looked back up at me, curious. “Why do you think so?” 

I wracked my brain for an explanation. If anything, I felt it was Hanzawa and I who were similar, but I couldn’t say why. I could see glimpses of Richard in Hanzawa—something about the grace they made look effortless, but it wasn’t enough for me to truly compare them. Finally, my gaze strayed to the cover of The Little Prince, and I blurted out, “You’re a prince, and he’s a fox.”

As if to prove me wrong in an instant, Richard laughed, his lips curving into a foxlike smile. But even as he did so, he looked like a beautiful, otherworldly prince who could have traveled to many planets before the two of us could meet. “It isn’t that literal,” he said. “Fox or prince; they tame each other the same.” 

Well, I thought, drinking in the visage of the beauty before me, I’m probably not smart enough to be a fox, anyways. “Maybe there’s something you haven’t noticed yet,” I said like the fool I was. “Tell me more about the book?”

After some hemming, hawing, and a promise of milk pudding from yours truly, Richard agreed. He opened the book at the beginning and translated the words before him in a smooth, beautiful tone.

My weight braced against the back of his chair, I closed my eyes, and let his words wash over me.

…If I was ever in Kyoto, maybe I’d get him some kitsune senbei.

-THE END-

[calamitydarcy]

last night i had a dream about jaspis

it was sometime in the time gap between the main series and future. and lapis was taking a walk through the woods one day, and strayed a bit too far. perhaps it was curiosity, perhaps just bad luck, but she soon finds a wide clearing. all plant life is dead and most trees are just broken stumps. shattered pieces of wood and rock were everywhere. she pushes on and finds a cave. she goes to investigate and... there was jasper.

jasper lunged at her, shoving her to the wall and effectively trapping her in the cave, blocking the exit, demanding to know why she was there. lapis freaked out a bit, not knowing what to say, before she blurted out:

"i've been missing you lately. i guess it was just fate tonight."

and they hung out in jasper's cave, just... talking. for several hours. jasper always sat closer to the exit, keeping lapis in a corner and making sure she was always trapped.

it was late into the night when lapis went home, but the next day she came back. and this became a sort of routine for them. lapis was slowly warming up to jasper again, and jasper was all for it. they trained and sparred together for months. no one knew about it, although everyone was getting suspicious of how lapis would just... disappear for a while.

and one day lapis didn't come home.