#one post today so we can end the year with them lighting a fire!

[sircesimblr]

They fished, chopped wood. They secured the last of the goods from the waves.

The little writing-desk from the surgeon's quarters was so heavy they barely got it ashore, and then it disappointed again. While they hoped to find books in it, or medicin, or stationery, all of the drawers and cabinets were empty, some were even missing.

The big chests which Remi recognized being from manufacturer Leighton & Sons were another disappointment. Tightly secured with iron and locks, they couldn't be opened and these too, were too heavy to move. Still, Remi and Lorck ran along with Moize to the far end of the waterfront to collect boulders that would prevent the chests being taken back to sea at high tide.

And it was fun to speculate with the children about their contents. Remi pointed out to them that the chests were locked like that for a reason, that they probably held new machinery or new inventions, and that sparked their imagination so greatly, they couldn't stop talking about it.

"A machine that makes toys!" Moize shouted. "Or a machine that makes parts of toys," Hannah suggested. "Yeah! You put a block of wood in it, and out comes a wooden soldier! But only his legs! On leg after another! Millions and millions of them!"

Laughing they went on, until the sun went down, until Jaromir and Lorck came back with a stone suitable to light their first campfire on.

prev < | ◦ beginning

[mondaymelon]

first time in this account lol Idk if you're taking requests but I saw that post some minutes ago and... Idk, wanted to request something lol, if you didn't do it yet! What about headcanons with a reader who doesn't show physical attention until some years of knowing them? Like, they know each other for about 5 years and just then the reader decides to do some small act of physical affection... I wanted the headcanons to be with Childe, Arlecchino, Wanderer and Furina! If you can <3

₊˚ෆ 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔… | childe, wanderer, arlecchino, furina x gn!reader

( childe's part might be a little ooc. havent done that part of the archon quest yet cries. also mwah arlecchino we love her in this household !! )

[ You were always someone who wasn’t fond of physical attention. Fleeting touches and kisses to the cheeks were never your forte, yet what should happen if the lover you’ve had for years is suddenly on the receiving end of such affections? ]

"physical affection... ah- it's okay if you can't show that to me, there's plenty of other ways to tell that you love me!"

CHILDE was the one to say those words to you, and the held the most certain truth. You were his lover, and a hug or two couldn't sway the fact! While the harbinger is quite the puppy and often yearns for your warmth, he'll respect your boundaries and allow you whatever. A lover like Childe places your happiness as a priority over his, wanting more to see your eyes sparkle than his own.

"Love, you wouldn't believe what happened in the courthouse today." You glance up from your spot where you're curled up on the couch, snuggled into a fluffy blanket and holding a warm drink in your hands, one of Inazuma's light novels sitting on the armrest. You hear the door to the two of you's home shut and lock, and listen to... Childe's footsteps. How strange, is he stumbling?

Glancing up, you internally gape at the cuts on his body, your eyes instantly drawn at the red splattered across his features. "'Taglia, what hap-"

He lets out a dry chuckle, grinning sheepishly as he rids his shoes at the door. "No worries, the blood isn't mine. Most of it, at least. I managed to get out of there in time, so all's well, yeah?"

As if that'd provide you any comfort. You narrow your eyes, glaring at him unyieldingly, until Childe has no choice but to force out another tasteless chuckle. "Come on now, I'm home, so let's do something fun instead of just being mad at me, 'kay?"

"Tartaglia."

The man flinches, his deep ocean eyes rounding. When you call him that and not his nickname, he knew that he had landed himself in deep shit. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He says that, but the sentence rounds up in a change of his tone, sounding almost suspiciously like a question. "It won't happen aga-"

The world itself seems to stop.

Your head is buried into his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. Archons, can you hear how fast his heart is beating? You've made him into a complete and utter mess. He's blushing, his ears practically on fire, and any thoughts once in his brain have been seared away in single second. It takes him to the count of three to remember how to breathe once more, his chest erratically heaving up and down as his shaking arms wrap around you hesitantly, wondering if it'd be okay to do so.

"...Love?"

"Mhm?"

"I- I thought you-"

"If it's with you, I'm okay."

Oh, how those words tug at his heart. You look so perfect in his arms - yes, you looked simply perfect all the time, he'd admit in a split-second. The messy nest of hair atop your head when you woke up in the early mornings, the dark bags under your eyes when you didn't sleep until late at night, your smile, your laugh, even your scowl. It silenced any effort to not fall in love with you.

A smile tugs at his lips. A bright one, a warm one, if that was even possible. Perhaps his eyes are shining with tears, or perhaps it was merely a trick of light, but he holds you all the closer, not wanting to let you go.

"Love, I... Archons, I don't think I'd be able to love anyone but you." ₊˚ෆ

"..great. i don't want your filthy hands on me anyways, so there shouldn't be a problem, hm?"

WANDERER's words were just that, would it kill him to be a little nicer? It didn't matter... you knew your lover well, or at least well enough to tell that what he said wasn't the complete truth.

Sure, you had seen him shrug off and make expressions of disgust directed towards particularly touchy people that he'd become somewhat acquainted with. And you most certainly had witnessed his frustrated outbursts and rants when he returned home to your shared abode, whining and grumbling about any trivial error someone had made - that is, brushing fingers with him while passing him papers. Something that couldn't exactly be avoided, yet he had glared at the wall for a good amount all the same.

Ah, but then there were moments when he thought you weren't looking, and that was when his eyes would drink you in. Grazing over your eyes, to your lips, then to your hands, where'd they linger on your fingers for perhaps longer than they should.

And you'd catch the times where you were inclined to say something flirtatious - words that were never all that flirtatious in the first place, Wanderer just happened to be unusually susceptible. Chin resting on your hand, eyes staring into his, you'd say something about how pretty he was, and then he'd just about go into neurogenic shock, likely not speaking to you the rest of the day, the tips of his ears, if one squinted to a certain extent, pink.

"Love." You glance up at him, a slight pout fixed on your lips. He'd been immersed in minor tasks, and those pesky things were what stole his attention away from you. An ironic twist of fate, as you were usually the one to be drowning in work, and he'd be the one practically begging for affection.

He hums, yet doesn't even bother to look at you.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No."

"Go get something to eat?"

"No."

"Visit the... House of Daena?"

"No."

"Shall we feed the finches?"

A slight pause. "...No."

"Then... let's hold hands?"

He froze at your words, and it seemed that the male lost the function of inhaling, for he sat there unmoving for what seemed like hours, his expression petrified in its form of his large eyes, raised eyebrows, and mouth slightly ajar.

"...Excuse me?" It seemed that he doubted his own ears, for he set his work aside and fixed his focus upon you, fingers trembling just the slightest.

"Hmph, have you suddenly forgotten how to think?" You frowned, yet your eyes curved into crescents all the same, and Wanderer felt his breath hitch at how ethereal you were. The sly fox you were, you took his moment of shock, settling by his side and intertwining your fingers with his. "Like this, is it not?" You were smiling now, and for the first time you glimpsed the red on his ears, but now on his face too, a rosy red descending upon his cheeks.

"What's..." Perhaps you were right. His vocabulary had suddenly dwindled, and now he had nothing but questions - that, and the growing warmth in his chest. "What do you think you're doing right now?"

Whatever attempt he had to sound "mean" had failed. You knew him too well for that. "Holding hands, what else? Your hands are cold you know-" And at that he flinched. "But it feels nice."

D...Did it really?

"You, no... love, let's stay like this. You're... warm." ₊˚ෆ

"when you sought me, i thought it'd be a serious matter. there's no trouble in it, truly, so there's no need to look so dejected."

ARLECCHINO hadn't even batted an eye. Was there a reason to? Yes, this certainly crossed off any thought of romantic couple things like kissing and hand holding, but it wasn't like she'd gasp dramatically and fall to the ground, blaming you for setting boundaries-

As if she'd ever. Your imagination was running wild today, perhaps it was the lack of sleep finally catching up to you? It was a stark contrast compared to Arlecchino, who went days without rest, shuffling through paper after paper on her desk and constantly relaying messages to her subordinates. She was a hard worker - a trait most easily overlooked, but it was a point of adoration for you. A point among many. Arlecchino was an easy person to love, despite the bristling thorns she'd show at first glance.

"Darling, a cup of tea, please?" Her gaze flicked up from her work to you, a thin smile decorating her lips. It was more a less a habit the two of you established - that is, pouring her tea. Her favorite cup was the one you had gifted her when you first started your relationship, shaded in a dark hue and embellished with roses, their blooms, petals, and thorny branches spreading across the expanse of porcelain. You placed said cup on her desk with a breath of satisfaction, tilting you head in questioning at the unusual amount of papers on her desk.

"Arle, did something happen?"

She merely chuckled to herself, her eyes shining with delight. "Ah, why don't you wager a guess?" You were her "subordinate" of sorts, although your true association was far more intimate. You knew of her plans with Fontaine, and helped carry them out. She revered your loyalty, but your warmth far more.

"...Has the hydro gnosis been secured?"

She snapped her fingers in one swift motion, her small smile widening into a true one that played across her ruby lips. "Correct, I'd expect nothing less of someone as capable as my lover."

"Then, Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet..."

"They've done well." It'd be hard to forsake the note of pride in her voice. Setting down the sheets in her gloved hands, she stood from her seat slowly, letting her eyes scan over your body. "You've asked your question, now shall I ask mine? Darling, I did quite well myself, did I not?"

Her expectant gaze read one thing, but instead of the usual quality time spending the two of you'd share, this time, you had rather differing plans. Smiling, you walked up to her, not letting the way her eyes sparkled just the slightest escape your sight. Promptly, sneakily, you flung yourself upon her, beaming as your hands found refuge winding about her torso, nearly instantly trapping her into your death hug. "You did, Arle~!"

"..." At her silence, you glanced up, only to be met with a sight that drew blush upon your own cheeks. Her usually composed, mystery-shroud features were now conflicted with crossing emotions... of what, however, was rather indecipherable. Arlecchino was a person of many masks, yet now it seemed that her "mask" displayed but one thing - love.

"Darling, I... you look perfect in my arms, so shall we stay like this a moment longer?" ₊˚ෆ

"is that so? a trivial matter, is it by law that i must hold you in my arms in order to prove my love for you?"

FURINA's multicolored irises and teardrop pupils twinkled, their shine dancing on the moonlit breeze. A hand daintily held a teacup, its fragrant contents swirling about the porcelain basin. Her laugh accompanied the cool evening wind, and she fluttered her eyes shut in a smile that brightened her expression. "Come now, why so shocked? Wouldn't this be expected from someone as benevolent as I?"

It was a scene that would remain forever painted in your mind, like a beautiful mural that one's eyes could not possibly forsake. The way her mouth tugged upwards and the manner in which her eyes curv-

"Hey, are you even listening to me right now?" A familiar voice tugged you out of your reminiscence of the confrontation months prior. Furina displayed a childish frown on her lips, her partly furrowed eyes sharpening her gaze into a rather particular one.

Oh, lost in thought once more. You let out a soft sigh, nodding sheepishly. "Yes, love, I am.."

"Mhm..." Your words left a no, you clearly aren't!" Furina sat up, her intensifying discontentment apparent on her features. "I said I got you access to front ticket seats to the hottest new court case! You know, the one involving the robbery... the one that's quite literally got the entire Steambird in a chokehold? Yet, you're not excited in the slightest!?" She sounded offended, and she likely was, for her cheeks were flushed the slightest in rash frustration and her narrowed eyes creased at their corners. "Appreciate my efforts, why don't you?"

"Appreciate" indeed.

Ah, but was a sudden, tight embrace overshooting it? For she tensed in your arms, her frame absolutely suspended in your hold, her slack jaw giving the slightest tremor. "Mon amour, just w-what are you-?"

"Come now, Furina, am I not permitted to hug my own lover now?" The jesting in your voice faded as the sarcastic grin on your face formed a smaller, more genuine one. "I'm... ah, I'm okay, if it's with you. I'll be okay."

She paused at your words, contemplation of them flashing in her gaze, and let out a gratified exhale. "Then..." she nearly melted in your embrace, leaning her head into your arms compliantly.

"Don't you dare think I've forgotten about your previous transgression, but... ah, it can be forgiven, can't it, mon amour?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) hc hc hc hc furina calls youfrench petnames because french oui oui baguette.. AHEM my sincerest apologies to any french or french speakers...

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! please consider following me as i amm soosososoo close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be crazy if i could reach it before christmas!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[macfrog]

walking through fire | one shot

just something that's been on my mind the last few weeks. i hope that you're all ok going into this difficult time of year. and if there's any part of this, big or small, that you find yourself resonating with - there will always be a warm, cozy chair in my inbox/dms, free for you to come sit, hang; we can talk about everything or nothing at all. love you guys. 🤍

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you’re neck-deep in a bout of seasonal depression. your boyfriend suggests an autumnal walk. (better than most healthcare systems offer amarite)

warnings: quite literally about depression & anxiety so please read at your own discretion. established relationship, fluffy soft!joel takes care of his girl, implied suicidal thoughts, use of medication to treat depression/anxiety, feelings of worthlessness/burdening, but hope! in the end! a wee sliver of hope!

word count: 2.7k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

November turns on itself all too quickly.

Your body feels like lead, sinking deep into the mattress. Like a broken, rusted shipwreck at the bottom of the ocean; your hand lying limp above the bedsheets like a sailor’s last attempt at reaching over the waves for help.

Joel opened the blinds today. Nuzzled into you, the scruff of his beard sharp on your numb skin, and then stood up and slowly unveiled the glaring light of white cloud. You shrunk further into the bed, your hot breath suffocating you under the sheets. Inhaling and exhaling, breathing in your own rotten air.

He pushes the door open and shuffles across to the bed. Your sea dips when he lowers into it, two arms slipping around your waist like a lifebuoy. He pulls you into his chest; his warm body melting the ice of your bones.

“Hey,” he whispers, and drags his nose across your cheek. He kisses your temple, combs his fingers through your hair. Dabs his thumb along your bottom lip and then says again, “Hey, darlin’. You awake?”

Your eyes flutter open, only enough to see the blurry shape of him; the strong curve of his shoulder, the binary of dark cotton and pale skin.

“Hi, baby. How you feelin’ this mornin’?”

The words catch on the dry cliff of your throat, dangling for a few seconds like panicking climbers, before plummeting into the abyss. You settle for an incoherent mumbling, a vibration on your lips that Joel understands through the pad of his thumb.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “not so good, huh? That’s okay. You know how much I love you?”

And that peels your eyes open a fraction more. Only enough to sharpen the image of him, to find the dark pools of his eyes and the way the flame in them flickers as he says it.

“Love you so much,” he whispers. The tiny fire thaws the very bottom of your heart, even if only enough to keep the blood pushing heavily through your veins.

Your eyes close over again, and you take his shirt in two weak fists, pulling yourself into his body. Your head fits in the crook of his arm, burying into his side.

“You feel like leavin’ the house today?” he asks, voice sweet and earnest. “Just for a little while? We could go for a walk, could go for a drive. Just you ‘n me, sweet girl.”

You shake your head, your eyes prickling from the sincerity of his question. The guilt beginning to creep its way over your shoulders.

“No? You don’t wanna?” He lifts his head, staring out at the view from the window. “’s a nice day out. Cold, but it’s dry, ‘n the leaves are all orange and yellow, just like you like. Not even for a half hour?”

That same guilt – sneering, bullying – pokes a sharp-clawed finger in your ribs until you answer him. “Tired,” you mumble, screwing your eyes shut until you see the sudden, violent assault of stars in your vision.

“I know you’re tired, baby,” Joel says, stroking your back. “But it might do you a little good to get some fresh air. And you’d be with me, and we can come back home whenever you decide.”

Your fear and shame seem to cower beneath his words; melted by the soft timbre of his voice. They retreat inward, burrowing deep between the cage of your ribs, twisting and mangling around your pale bones.

“We can come back whenever?” you whisper, defying their threats.

“Whenever, darlin’. Promise.”

You surrender yourself, letting him take you in his arms and carry you over to your closet, where he sets you down gently. Keeping an arm around your waist, Joel waits patiently as you pick an outfit, and then helps drape it over your frame. You feel more statue than human – solid substance rather than plush flesh. Cold and brittle; the tender touch and lively glow drained from your skin the same way it drains so quickly of energy.

You’ve been fighting for years. Months and months and months of one step at a time and just keep going. Being told you’re more than what’s going on in your brain, being told not to let it become you. But there are days when you stand before the mirror, and you don’t recognize the figure staring back at you. The dark tunnels in place of eyes, the thin line of her lips.

There are days you can see the marks on your skin from how tight your anxiety and depression bind you; wrapping like ivy around your body until there’s nothing left of you to see through the dark green leaves. Just a haggard, shapeless thing. A skeleton too tired to carry the weight of yourself; a heart too weary to beat in time.

There once existed a time you had smiled, even laughed – you know it, you have the lines scored deep into your cheeks to prove it. Sometimes they ache when you think about it, like even they miss the feeling. Joel knows it, too – you sense it whenever he tells some dumb joke, sense that he’s searching your face for the slightest lift, the slightest dip of a dimple. And it fucking kills you, when you realize you have nothing sincere or true to offer him. No swollen cheeks, no flash of teeth. At best, a heavier exhale pushed from your nostrils.

It all feels so long ago, that lighter, fresher, happier you. It feels so far from your clutches. Like you’re drifting further and further from the surface, disappearing into the murky depths of your own mind.

The doctors, the articles, the fucking motivational posts on Instagram all say the same. Keep fighting it. Confront your illness. Prove it wrong. But you’re so fucking tired of fighting. Fighting it the entire drive to work, your heart threatening to burst; fighting it every conversation you have, your façade slowly cracking. Swallowing the panic like you swallow the medication; both of them sticking in your throat and refusing to go down.

There is no fighting it. There is no overcoming through confrontation. If you broke your leg, shattered every bone to dust, would they say the same? You gotta walk on it straight away to make it strong again. You don’t think so.

Joel doesn’t seem to think so, either. Joel, with a heart of molten gold, ready at every turn to let it pour onto your skin and paint it the color of sunlight when you can’t do it yourself. Joel, with his strong arms and wide reach, bundling you up over the top of all that foul ivy and snapping its thick stems with just his fingers.

Joel, who will sit at the edge of your bed and watch you take your meds; kiss your forehead and squeeze you tight when you show him your empty mouth. Joel, who will hold you in the dead of night and tell you stupid stories about his brother when they were kids, rubbing your back and chasing the dark ghosts from your mind.

Joel, who still sees something in you – whether he’s imagining it or not – and decides each day that it’s worth protecting. Worth saving. You’re worth saving, even on the days you don’t believe it yourself.

He drives for ten minutes, a little out of the suburbs and into a thicket of fire-colored leaves and solid, frozen ground. Fall sinks its teeth deep into the roots of the earth, drying up the bloom of summer and replacing it with something harder, something tougher. Nature is dying in the November breeze – the amber leaves painted the color of the trees’ blood as they fight a losing battle against the shifting of time. You feel yourself decaying with it: a drawn-out, painful surrender to the bleak days and dark nights.

Joel keeps his hand on your thigh the entire ride; you keep your fingers intertwined with his. The fluttering in your chest gets quicker and quicker, spreads its wings wider the further you feel from home. Your mouth dries up, forcing you to swallow after every third breath. But his hand stays there, planted on you like the root of an ancient tree: never shifting, no matter how strong the wind throws punches.

A shaky breath falls from your lips when he slows to a halt, the truck parked by a long wooden gate. He cuts the engine and turns to you, squeezing your leg lightly.

“We’re just gonna walk down there,” he nods out the window, “and back again. As slow as you like, ‘n we turn back when?”

“Whenever I want,” you whisper, nodding.

“Whenever you want, darlin’. Just say the word, alright? Sound good?”

You nod, blinking away the strain of tears across your vision. Your knee bounces, the metal buckles on your boots clinking in the footwell.

Joel rubs his thumb against your cheek. Lifts your free hand and places a delicate kiss to your knuckles. “I am so proud of you,” he mumbles against them, like scoring it into the bone.

You fill your cheeks, flattening your lips together, and he pulls on his door handle.

Five paces from the car, you realize how cold it is. The bitter air snaps at your cheeks, drags the salty tears from your eyes. Joel quickly fixes the collar of your jacket and pulls your scarf over your face.

“You bring gloves?” he asks.

Your head shakes in response.

“Here.” He fishes in the pockets of his tan jacket for a dark brown pair, flicking his fingers for you to hold your quivering hands out. He slips them on, all too big for you, and then knots his fingers through yours and leads you on down the sloping backroad.

Bordered by tall trees on either side, you feel secluded and hidden from the rest of the world. It fills you with equal parts comfort and terror: nobody else is here. No one can see your vacant eyes, the wet stain of fallen tears on your cheeks. Not the vice grip you have on your boyfriend or the weak quiver of your voice.

And at the same time: nobody else is here. No people, no sign of life. Just an isolated track, the looming trees overhead, the squelch of muck and the bite of fall for company.

Joel matches your pace, strolling along by your side with your arm through his and his hand resting on top of yours. He catches your glances over your shoulder, sees the jittery movements of your head as you scan the scene around you, and pats the back of your hand tenderly.

“Take a deep breath for me.”

You fill your lungs with a chilly gulp of air, pushing it back out again as steadily as you can.

“And again.”

You repeat the exercise, your chest swelling against your buttoned up coat.

“You’re doin’ great,” he says, looking down at you. “You feelin’ okay?”

“I’m – Yeah, I’m just…” you twist back to search for the wooden gate, “…can’t see the truck anymore.”

“’s right there, promise ya. You wanna go back?”

He pauses, and your boots scuff to a halt on the stony terrain. You chew the inside of your cheek, eyebrows arching to release more tears from between your lashes. “No,” you breathe, “I wanna try to go further.”

“Then let’s try to go further. Yeah?”

You nod, setting off when you realize he’s waiting for you to take the lead.

The fields on either side of you are strung with a thick blanket of mist from one end to the other, masking the trees at the opposite side and obscuring the line between earth and sky. Your body close to Joel’s, your heartbeat attempting to match the steady pace of his, you feel safe, protected. The promise that you can call it a day whenever your body begins to weigh too much, whenever your lungs begin to falter.

Somewhere between the thinning of the hedgerows, another slanted, shabby gate materializes. Its crisscross panels and worn wooden posts separating you from the first company in your twenty-minute walk.

“Joel,” you call, loosening your grip on his arm and wandering over to the long, dewy grass towards a chestnut horse, a sliver of white fur diving deep between her eyes.

She slowly thumps over, huge hooves sinking deep into the soft dirt. Her long tail swishing, navy rug wrapped around her midriff. She docks at the gate, puffing a heavy breath – hot, thick clouds shooting from each nostril.

“Hi,” you say quietly, lifting a floppy-gloved hand for her to sniff. “Joel?” you say again, glancing down at her swollen belly, the low droop of the rug. “I think she might be pregnant.”

She tosses her head up, ears flicking, and nuzzles into the soft material of Joel’s glove. You feel her wrinkled muzzle, the strong, solid bridge of her nose. She blinks slowly; huge, deep brown eyes twinkling in the late-morning light, and you swear she’s trying to communicate something to you.

“Hey, girl,” Joel says, running a careful hand down her mane.

The horse sighs serenely, eyes flitting between the two of you. Her nostrils flare gently, light brown lashes fluttering. You tilt your head, stroking her and letting her teeth graze the sleeve of your jacket. Her bulky head turns to-and-fro, glancing up and down the trail you’re stood on, contently waiting for the passage of time. Enjoying her view from the misty field before it all changes again.

Unexpected and unwelcome, the absence of compression in your chest suddenly makes itself known. Dread spills into your lungs, thick like tar. You turn on your heel and cast Joel one fleeting glance.

He catches it, and without missing a beat, asks, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Is that okay?”

“’s more ‘n okay, baby. You did so good today. Didn’t she?” he asks the horse, who huffs another hot breath. Joel tosses a thumb towards her. “See?”

You step back over to the animal, now preparing to wander back on home, and give her one last tender stroke. She blinks twice, tosses her head a final time, and her broad body turns, thudding off back up the slope.

As he links your arms again, Joel blinks down at you, the corners of his mouth slowly lifting.

“What?” you ask, shyly.

“Look at you,” he says, nudging your shoulder with a glint in his eye. “You’re smilin’.”

Autumn flashes by as Joel drives you home – ginger and bronze and honey and cinnamon blurring into one as you pass them by. You settle back against the headrest, moving with the sway of the truck, your tired fingers tracing blind shapes on Joel’s palm.

Nature is burning. Perhaps dying is too harsh a term. Burning in preparation for the winter, when it will lay dormant and restful. Quiet, save for the crunch of snow beneath your feet. Bland, save for the sparkle of frost on your windowpanes. The droplets of beauty laced through, the little reminders that not all has been lost.

I am burning right now, the earth says, but wait until you see what I can become.

The days will turn to night. The sun will tear the sky to tatters, set the whole thing fucking ablaze, go down in a battle stained in red and orange and deep, dark blue – and she will still return, spilling golden all over the horizon. She always does.

The clouds will cover overhead, dampening the color on earth. The blues will fade to gray, the yellows will undoubtedly pale. And then the sky will clear, when it is ready; the clouds will break in two to let a ribbon of cerulean burst through.

The leaves will fall to the ground and feed the soil; new ones will sprout from buds left in their wake. The ground will thaw, will soften again in time to welcome the push of daisies and burst of heather. The horse will foal, the birds will sing to their babies, the buzz of insects will irritate your ears; the rivers will gush and the trees will sway and you will be okay again.

You will be okay again.

[ambermotta]

Lokean Holidays

art by Sceith-A

With holiday season coming up across all cultures, I have decided to do a little something in honor of one of my own dedicated deities — Loki. Following the holiday theme (and looking forward to one of my favorite Loki festivals), today's post is all about Loki-specific holidays.

I will start off by saying that He does not have any known traditional holidays. We have no surviving evidence of any Loki-specific Holidays, and few evidence of Loki even being worshipped in ancient times.

So keep in mind these are all modern holidays that many lokeans (those who follow Loki) have adopted.

It's also important to note that not every lokean follows all, if any of these.

And lastly, I won't mention any of the usual norse pagan holidays, but you can definitely still honor Loki on those alongside other norse deities. It's just that they are not specific to him.

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

Loki Fool's Day

April 1st

This was probably one of the first lokean holidays created, in honor of Loki as a Trickster and deity of Mischief.

It was proposed by Dagulf Loptson in his book "Playing with Fire", but I believe many of Loki's followers already thought of Loki during April Fool's before that.

Ideas:

Have fun

Play games

Make jokes and pull tricks

Reflect on Loki as a trickster deity and the trickster archetype in all its forms

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

Lokabrenna

July – August (roughly)

The star Sirius was known to the norse people as Lokabrenna ("burning done by Loki", "Loki's torch"). The star would be gone for one half of the year, so when it reappeared at its highest point, that would be the date of Lokabrenna. Because of the connection to Loki's name, the day of Lokabrenna became a modern lokean holiday.

The date varies because it's connected to when the star Sirius shows up in the sky, so it depends on location.

In the southern hemisphere, Sirius can be seen throughout the year. In this case, Lokabrenna can be celebrated when it shows during both morning and evening, rising with the Sun.

You can adopt a date between the beginning of July to the end of August for convenience.

The following reddit post (at r/lokean) details one way you can find out the day of Lokabrenna for your location:

Ideas:

Prapare a ritual for Loki

Celebrate the comming season (summer in northern hemisphere, winter in southern hemisphere)

Meditate on Loki as a fire good and bringer of light, knowledge and creativity

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

Loki Sponge Cake Day

September 4th

TW: brief mention of bullying

This holiday popped up in the community as an anti-bullying holiday. Basically, this happened because someone got mad at a lokean who got some store bought sponge cake as an offering to Loki and shamed them for it.

So this is a holiday to commemorate modern offerings and promote anti-bullying.

Ideas:

Anti-bullying awareness.

Get some store bought cake or other modern stuff to give as offerings and celebrate

Reflect on Loki as a deity of the Outcasts

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

Loki's Holiday

December 13th

This holiday was proposed by Dagulf Loptson in his book "Playing with Fire".

This is because, on Dec 13th in Scandinavia, there is the feast of St. Lucia and the festival of light, which would symbolize the coming of light in the midst of darkness.

In his book Loptson states that he had asked Loki if there was a special day he could celebrate him, and the answer was Dec 13th, which he later learned was the day of St. Lucia.

So yes, this is the author's UPG, but it was widely adopted by the community.

In scandinavian countries the date also used to mark the Winter Solstice. As the longest night of the year, it was believed that all sorts of foul creatures would roam the earth, and the bringing of light could symbolize safety and the hope of warmer days to come.

While Loki and Lucia may not be directly related, they share a relation in the sense that they may come as "light bearers". Thus, many lokeans find it fitting to honor Loki on this day.

Ideas:

Celebrate the coming of light and Loki as a deity that brings fire, warmth and light

Give gingerbread treats, cakes, cookies, sweets, etc, as offerings

Celebrate with other Lokeans!

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

Loki and Sigyn — 4th Day of Yule

December 23th

art by Ksenia Svincova

There is actually very little information on this holiday and how it came to be, and not many lokeans celebrate it.

So you may take this with a grain of salt.

From what I could find this one is actually tied to celebrating the 4th day of Yule and it honors both Loki and Sigyn.

It is a day to celebrate love (especially queer love) and devotion, as Sigyn loved Loki unconditionally, despite everything that he did and that had happened to him.

Supposedly, it also coincides with Saturnalia (Roman holiday, Dec 17th-23th), a day where social order is turned upside down — which is very much a Loki thing to do, as demonstrated in Lokasenna.

That said, I personally don't think the correlation with Saturnalia fits most heathens' practice. But Sigyn and Loki's relationship is highly defined by Her actions after Lokasenna, so I can see how you could make a connection.

Ideas:

Celebrate love, queer love

Pour libations

Do healing work and cleansing rituals

Celebrate Loki and Sigyn's union

_________________♡♤◇♧_________________

That concludes this post. Even if you do not work with, worship, or follow Loki, I hope you enjoyed the post!

Thank you for reading!

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Steel That Went Through Hottest Fire: Chapter I - Steel Your Heart

Summary: You're a Durast in the Second Army of Ravka. You work in the Little Palace, having a quiet life. But that changes, when one day General Kirigan takes an interest in you. Your life is about to change. The question is… for better or for worse?

A/N: Happy New Year! I know, I posted I may have another fic about General KiriganxReader for Christmas. It didn't work out due to some things, but here it finally is! And still in this year (at least in my time zone). So, it's not a Christmas present from me to you, as I intended, but at least it can be a gift for a New Year. I hope it will be wonderful to you all and that we will get "Shadow and Bone" renewed for the third season. Enjoy this story! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". Nor you. English still isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know.

Chapter Summary: You're helping David with a project, when suddenly General Kirigan decides to give you another one. You give it your all, wanting to prove yourself and that the Darkling wasn't wrong to give you this task. But be careful not to lose your heart in your attempt to get to know the Black General.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, Fedyor Kaminsky, David Kostyk, Baghra Morozova

Word Count: 4262

A/N: Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089935819/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089794821/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798519/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089802382/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089924742/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798506/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798495/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798516/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089798487/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/ARu68-bzs_bGOVcrs4gXCM_ZWb65MO-UrWyE8K1XgCr8gzVz_9vI5Fo/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089794814/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

@marrymonrich

@wonderland2425

@chelseyyouraverageluigi

@thehufflepuffavenger1

First, you hear footsteps. Then, voices. You pay them no mind, too focused on your task. You also ignore the sound of clearing of one's throat. What finally gets your attention, is someone positioning themselves in front of you. And only because they're blocking the light.

You raise your head and meet a smile of a Heartrender. Fabian? Felix? Fedyor. That's right. But he's not the one blocking the sun. The person next to him is and he could do it without positioning himself in front of the window. He could do it from the end of the room if he wanted to.

'General,' you greet him politely and you glance at Fedyor again. 'Fedyor.'

'Good afternoon, [Y/N],' the Heartrender says, still smiling. He often smiles. You like that about him.

'Where's David?' General Kirigan asks. He, on the other hand, never smiles. Actually, you don't think you ever saw him smiling. Not that you spend much time with him. You circle completely different orbits. How could you not? You're a mere Durast, while he is the Shadow Summoner and the General of the Second Army.

'In the infirmary,' you answer calmly and return to your work. You miss the frowns on General and Fedyor's faces.

'In the infirmary?' the Heartrender repeats.

'Mhm,' you hum. 'Again.'

'He often ends up there?' General asks.

'Quite,' you confirm. 'But still, he's improving. It's only his third visit today.'

Fedyor's eyes widen, while General closes his. But you don't see it, still engrossed with your work.

'He went there a while ago, though, so he should be back soon,' you say. 'If it's urgent.'

'That depends whether creating some sort of light that could help us cross the Fold without attracting Volcras is urgent in your opinion,' General says, his voice emotionless.

'Ah, that,' you say. 'That's actually why he ended up there. Again. So, don't worry, he's working on it. Well, we are.'

You look up, giving the men a pointed look. General moves to the side a bit after a moment, after understanding that's what you're working on and they're actually interrupting you.

'Sorry,' Fedyor says, sending you a sheepish smile. You shrug.

'It's fine,' you say. 'David only asked me yesterday for help. I'm still trying to understand what he's done so far. And why it's not working like it should. Or works as it shouldn't, like setting David eyebrows on fire.'

General's eyebrows shoot up. Fedyor snorts and marks it with a cough.

'Eyebrows,' Kirigan repeats.

'And eyelashes,' you add. 'For a moment we thought he lost eyes.'

You return to your work. But then someone else calls your name in a tone you know so well. You freeze and exhale slowly. You turn to the coming person with a small smile.

'Petro,' you greet the incoming Tidemaker. He sends you a charming smile. He leans on the table and looks you over.

'[Y/N],' he says. 'You look very nice today. I love your-'

'What do you want?' you interrupt him. Petro freezes, then smiles sheepishly. He pulls out his dagger from his sheath. The dagger is bended in a weird angle. Fedyor tilts his head with a frown, wondering how he managed to do that with Grisha steel. Kirigan stares at it grimly, clearly not impressed.

'Again?' you ask, raising your eyebrows.

'Yeah… could you?' Petro asks, looking at you with puppy eyes. You extend your hand in answer. The Tidemaker hands you the dagger, beaming.

'Thanks, you're the best!' he says. You look the dagger over.

'Mhm,' you hum. 'Come back for it in an hour or so. I should have it-'

'Yeah, yeah, see you then!' Petro interrupts you, still grinning. He salutes to the General, finally seeming to notice him and walks away with a spring in his step.

'I truly don't know what ladies see in him,' Fedyor says. 'He's just so… bleugh.'

You don't answer him, focused on the dagger. The men watch as you grab the blade with your hand, while the other is grabbing the handle. You hum quietly and slowly the metal twists and bends. Merely a minute passes and the dagger looks like new. You nod, satisfied, and put it on the edge of the table. You return to your work, while men give you blank stares.

'Why did you tell him to come back in an hour?' Fedyor can't help but ask.

'Because that's the third time this week, he can wait for it,' you answer. You think you hear a snicker coming from General's lips, but you're sure it's just your imagination.

'And here I thought you're a good, quiet Durast,' Fedyor chuckles.

'Oh, Fedyor,' you say, glancing up at him. 'Never underestimate the quiet people.'

The Heartrender shivers at the look in your eyes. He stares at you, a bit disturbed, but you return to your work. You don't even notice the way General gazes at you. Like you're an interesting puzzle that needs to be solved.

Just then David enters the workshop. He looks a bit ruffled, but seems fine. He has a look of deep concentration on his face, so you know everything's alright with him.

'General,' he says, surprised, stopping, once he notices who's in the room.

'Mr Kostyk, I'm glad you could join us,' General says, putting his hands behind his back. 'I hope you're alright?'

'Um… yes, I'm fine, thank you, General,' David says and walks slowly to you.

'And?' you ask. He gives you a confused look.

'What did we learn today?' you clarify.

'Oh,' David says. 'Not to lean too much over the fire we don't know how works.'

'We don't lean too much over any fire, but that kind especially, yes,' you say. That's when you turn off, completely focusing on your task, since David is here to answer all of General's questions.

The Durast tries his best to explain his progress. But he's standing in front of the fearsome Darkling, so he's nervous. His arms are all over the place. He ends up turning over things on the table. The effect? The dagger on it falls from the table… straight on General's foot. But at the last moment it stops in the air.

Fedyor and General stare at it, surprised. They look up and see David's pale face turned toward you. You, who's holding a piece of paper in one hand, reading it, and have the other one extended toward the dagger. They watch how you move your hand and the blade follows its movements, to finally land back on the table.

'David, I don't think the General fancies the journey to the infirmary,' you comment casually and put down the piece of paper.

'I… I am so sorry, General,' David apologises, flustered.

'It's alright, Mr Kostyk,' Kirigan says, his eyes focused on you. 'Miss [L/N].'

'Hm?' you hum, looking at him with an absent-mind expression.

'I know Mr Kostyk said you're valuable to his work, but I have a different task for you,' General says and you raise your eyebrows at him. 'I was thinking about creating lighter and faster skiffs. And something tells me you're the right Durast for the job.'

You frown, already calculating how would that be possible. Something sparks in your eyes.

'Yeah, I can do that,' you nod. 'No problem, General.'

'I know you won't disappoint me,' Kirigan says and looks at David. 'Neither of you.'

Your friend gulps and bows his head. He elbows you and you do the same. General glances at you one last time and leaves with Fedyor.

'Why did you give her that task out of the blue, sir?' the Heartrender asks, curious.

'That paper in her hand was completely blocking her the sight of the dagger,' General says. 'And yet she stopped it. Without even seeing it's falling. Which proves that she was right and it's better not to underestimate her.'

'How so?' Fedyor asks. General's lips twitch upward.

'Because the silent ones are the most observant ones,' he answers. 'And that also makes me believe she's the right person to be able to make our skiffs faster and lighter.'

He speeds up. Fedyor quickly follows him, lost in thought. They don't speak to each other until they reach the General's chambers.

*

Next time Kirigan sees you, is while you're already working on the skiff with other Durasts and Alkemi. He's pleased to see that the work is going well. He is, though, confused by you.

When he saw you in the workshop, focused on your work, almost alone, you were a completely different person than you are when you are surrounded by other Grisha. People ask you for help almost all the time and you help them with a smile on your face. You're the one responsible for the project, but almost every time you suggest something and someone dismisses the idea, you don't push and you seem to close in yourself.

When the work is done for the day, everyone leaves but you. Kirigan is about to go as well but something stops him. He observes you. The moment others are gone, smile disappears from your face. For the whole time General's been here, he was trying to figure out what was bothering him so much about your behaviour. Now he knows. Your eyes. Your mouth was smiling, but not your eyes. He can see it now, when your lips are turned downward.

He walks out of the shadows and walks slowly to you. You only notice him when he's right next to you. You jump, startled. Seeing it's him, you put a hand on your chest and force yet another smile.

'General,' you greet him. 'I'm sorry, you scared me.'

Kirigan stares at you. You tilt your head, confused.

'Miss [L/N], are you alright?' the man asks.

'I'm fine,' you answer after a moment, turning your face from him. You try to focus on materials in front of you.

'You don't look fine,' Kirigan insists.

'Then stop looking,' you snap. You look at him, startled. He raises his eyebrows.

'I am so sorry, General,' you apologise. The man frowns, seeing how you seem to cower, becoming smaller than you are. It doesn't seem like the girl who told David off for almost hurting him and stopped the dagger from hurting him even not looking at it.

'I think I'm just tired', you try to excuse yourself, looking away from him again. 'It's been a long day and we had some problems. I swear it won't happen-'

'Do not pretend that you are some meek, pathetic little girl, when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes,' Kirigan interrupts you harshly. You flinch and look at him with surprise. He stares at you coldly. He doesn't even know why he's so annoyed by your change in behaviour. It frustrates him.

'Sir?' you ask, confused. He clears his throat.

'I've watched you today,' he says and is even more surprised. 'How is it, that when I last saw you, you told a boy to wait for his dagger and today you were doing everything people asked of you at once, often stopping your own work?'

You stare at him in silence. You don't say a word, still don't act like when he saw you that day. However, something changes in your eyes. Something that he saw then and couldn't quite place it. But now he knows. He sees it every day in his eyes.

'You're full of anger,' he says. He reaches out to you and puts a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It makes you shiver.

'Why?' he asks. You don't answer. You stare at him blankly. He doesn't push. After a moment he allows his hand to drop and turns to walk away. He takes a few steps-

'I am angry because of my father,' you speak up. Kirigan stops. He smiles. There.

'I can hold a grudge like it's a hand,' you say. General turns. He raises his eyebrows.

'Your father,' he repeats. He crosses his arms. The look in his eyes tells you he waits for more. To be honest, you don't know why you told him that at all. But there's no turning back now, is there?

'He's not a good person,' you say slowly. 'I think… he hated me for not being a boy. He definitely let me felt that. I don't think I ever saw him in a good mood.'

'What about your mother?' General asks. You smile against your will.

'She was trying to always ease his anger,' you say. 'I always admired that in her. She was smiling and helping others, even when she was sad, scared or tired.'

'And you're trying to do the same thing,' Kirigan understands. You nod.

'I have my mother's joy and my father's anger in me,' you say. 'They're always at war.'

'You're angry because you believe your father didn't love you?' Aleksander asks. 'I'm sure that's not true.'

That's a lie, obviously. He's seen many parents beating their children for the smallest things. And doing other things to them. But he wants you to say more and he knows this will. The look you give him, tells him he's right.

'The moment my he realised I'm a Grisha, he grabbed me, took me to the Little Palace and demanded a really fancy price for me,' you say, your voice void of any emotions. 'He didn't even let me say goodbye to my mother.'

Kirigan stares at you in silence, not sure what to say. You smile sadly at him.

'So, I think it's safe to say I have a father, but I never had a dad,' you say and shake your head after a moment. 'I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. Sir. Or why do you care…'

You give him a curious but also a wary look. General clasps his hands behind his back. The usual 'mask' is on his face.

'It's my duty to care about Grisha under my care,' he says. 'Make sure they're well.'

You hum, your eyes not leaving his face. You tilt your head. There's something in your look… a question.

'What is it?' Kirigan asks.

'What about your father?' you blurt out. 'What was he like? The former Darkling?'

'I never knew him,' General says after a long pause slowly. 'I grew up outside the Little Palace, away from him. Safety reasons.'

'Right, yes, of course,' you say, nodding. 'And… your mother?'

He tenses. He looks away. His lips press into a thin line.

'She loves me in some way,' he answers after a moment wistfully.

'She's alive?' you ask.

'Yes,' that's all he answers.

'It must have been hard,' you say.

'Lonely, mostly,' General says before he can stop himself. You nod and look down.

'Loneliness can be the worst kind of torture,' you say quietly. Kirigan looks at you, stunned, but you don't see it. He opens his mouth but then closes them again. You look up at him and force another smile on your face.

'I should finish this up and retire to bed,' you say and bow respectfully to him. 'General.'

'Goodnight, Miss [L/N],' he says, nodding.

'Goodnight, General,' you respond. Kirigan stares at you for a moment longer, then turns and leaves. He stops behind a corner. He clenches his fists. He won't. He won't. He won't. But he does. He turns and peeks from behind the wall.

You're standing where he left you, carefully putting things away. There's that sad look on your face again. It stirs something in Kirigan. He doesn't know what. But he doesn't like it. Nor the need to find a reason for you to be happy.

*

Are you surprised the materials you figure out you need are far away from Os Alta? No. Do you insist you need to get them yourself to properly inspect them? Yes. Coincidentally, General Kirigan is heading to a town nearby, because that's where one of your regiments is stationed. So, you and few other Grisha are riding there with the Darkling himself.

You visit the regiment first. You walk around with curiosity, as you've never been this close to war. You decide you don't necessarily want to be. You're glad when you leave that town and head to the one with your supplies. You don't stay long there. You quickly find what you need, inspect it and argue about the price. Satisfied, you head home.

At some point you take a break in a forest. After a discussion you decide to stay for the night. Kirigan leaves setting up the camp to others and goes for a reconnaissance. You never know where you can meet Fjerdan or Shu-Han's spies. And sure enough, he finds one.

The Fjerdan panics at the sight of the Darlking himself and falls from the tree he was hiding on. It catches Kirigan off guard, so he has to duck, as the Fjerdan uses the moment of confusion to fire a gun at him. He cries and throws himself at General. There's a short struggle and a moment later Kirigan throws the dead body from his own. He huffs and stands up.

He hears a sound of a gun clicking behind him. He tenses. He expects the other man to fire… but instead of gunshots he hears gurgles. He frowns and turns swiftly, ready to use the Cut. He's surprised to see the man tense and… wriggling in place? A moment later he falls on the ground, unconscious, revealing you with your hands brought together.

'How did you…?' General asks after a moment, shocked. You let your hands drop.

'Durasts can do more things than just create things, you know,' you say, raising an eyebrow. 'We can manipulate anything that's solid. Like metals. And one of metals is iron. Which is an important part of blood that flows in our veins.'

'So… you manipulated the iron in his body?' Kirigan slowly says, astonished, glancing at the man at your feet. 'How did you discover you can do that?'

'Focus, girl,' Baghra's voice rings in your ears. 'Focus on every bit of metal in this house. What can you feel?'

'Steel… bronze… copper… brass…' your younger self said on that day during your lesson with the old woman, '… silver… iron… Lots and lots of iron.'

'Iron,' Baghra repeated, frowning. Which you couldn't see, because your eyes were closed.

'Focus on iron,' the woman said, curious. 'Try to call it to you.'

You nodded again and exhaled slowly. You brought your hands together and concentrated on iron. For a moment there's nothing. Then you heard Baghra's surprised gasp and groan.

'S-stop!' she barked, her voice strained. You quickly dropped your hands and opened your eyes. The woman was breathing heavily and clutching her stomach. She looked up at you, surprised… and impressed? No, can't be. Not Baghra.

'You can control iron in human's body,' she said. 'Not many Durasts can do that…'

You blush, still embarrassed that you almost caused Baghra to bleed, because you called to yourself iron in her blood cells. You clear your throat and look away.

'During one lesson with Baghra,' you answer General's question. 'I sensed iron in her house and she told me to call it to me. We had no idea I was sensing the iron in our bodies. I… may have… almost do to her what I did to that Fjerdan.'

Oh, how Kirigan would love to see that. See Baghra surprised and gasping for breath. Almost killed by a hand of a Durast still in training.

'Impressive,' General says. He wants to say more, but then other Grisha run from behind the trees, calling him. They separate you two, asking if he's alright and checking the state of the two spies. The alive one is taken as a hostage to interrogate. They dispose of the body of the other one and you all return to the camp. General doesn't see or talk to you again that night.

In fact, the next time he has a chance to talk to you is on the day you return to the Little Palace. Or rather, later at night. He's just finished a rather frustrating meeting and goes to the kitchen to grab something to eat as a late supper. Or maybe early breakfast. However, what he sees inside the kitchen, causes him to stop dead in his tracks.

'[Y/N]?' he asks, surprised. 'It's four a.m., why are you baking a cake? And what's with the party decorations and sweets?'

He stares at you, standing in front of a table and spreading a cream on the sponge cake. Like he said, there are party decorations in the room and more sweet things to eat. You lick the spoon in your hand and look at him calmly.

'I'm celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and sanity,' you answer and reach into a bowl with cookies, then offer one to him. 'Want a cookie?'

General is silent for a moment, trying to understand this bizarre situation. Finally, he sighs and sits down opposite to you.

'Might as well,' he answers and takes the offered cookie. You nod at him and return to your task. He watches you as you do that.

'It calms me down,' you explain. 'Baking. When I'm stressed or angry. Or both.'

'Is it my doing?' General asks. 'The task I asked you to complete?'

'No,' you deny, shaking your head, but then think. 'Well, yes and no. It's because I'm a perfectionist. Everything I do has to be perfect. And when it isn't, when something is not going how I want, I get frustrated. So, I bake. And today I understood that this task is exciting, but also challenging… which I love, don't worry… so I'm going to sleep less. Hence, the little party.'

Kirigan stares at you. He hums and eats his cookie.

'I see,' he says and suddenly freezes, as if remembering something. 'I didn't thank you, did I? For saving my life.'

'I'm sure you'd have been fine,' you dismiss him, shrugging.

'Nevertheless, you saved my life,' General says. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome,' you say, looking down, embarrassed. You finish your cake in silence. When it's done, you cut both of you a piece of it and you eat in silence. Until Kirigan asks:

'Why didn't you kill him?'

'I've never killed before,' you answer after a moment of careful consideration. 'It's not something I want to do. One of the many reasons I'm glad I'm a Durast, not a Heartrender.'

General doesn't say anything to that. You continue to eat the cake in silence. Then, you stand up and slowly start cleaning up. Clearly, you're dragging out the moment of going to sleep.

'I'm starting to think you're a masochist,' Kirigan says, a bit amused.

'Look who's talking,' you say, not looking at him. He freezes.

'What do you mean?' he asks, his voice a bit hard. You carefully think about your answer.

'When you told me about your parents… I saw something in your eyes,' you say finally. 'I couldn't understand it for some time. Until I looked in the mirror and saw the haunting look I always have whenever I think of my time before I came to the Little Palace.'

You turn to look at him. He stares at you coldly. It doesn't faze you.

'Something happened to you when you were younger,' you say. 'And it haunts your soul, hurting you… maybe even destroying you.'

'I'm fine,' Kirigan says harshly after a moment. 'I don't need any… help.'

'You don't need… or you don't want it?' you ask and look away. 'Sometimes we don't want to heal, because the pain is the last link to what we've lost.'

Suddenly, you're slammed against the wall, your wrists pinned on the sides of your head. You look with surprise, and a bit of fear, at General's angry face hovering above yours.

'Don't ever try to get inside my head,' he snarls. For several beats you stay there, his grip crushing your wrists. Finally, his dark eyes soften.

'It's too dark for you,' he says and lets go of you. He turns and walks away, watched by you.

'Goodnight,' he calls over his shoulder. He's almost at the door, when you blurt out:

'Show me your thorns and I'll show you hands ready to bleed.'

He freezes. Your heart is beating fast. You have no idea why you said that. But when he turns his head to look at you with surprise, he meets your determined gaze. Because something draws you to him. Maybe because your past is similar. Maybe because you're both lonely. But you know one thing. You don't want him to be in pain.

General frowns at you. He opens his mouth, but not a word comes out. He turns and walks away briskly. You stand in place for a moment. Then, you finish cleaning up and go to sleep.

In the morning you find an envelope under your door. Curious, you pick it up. It's black and is addressed to you in a familiar writing. You take out a note and read it. It says:

Something must be done about your rest schedule. I don't want the Durast responsible for building my new skiffs falling dead from exhaustion. From now on, I expect you in my chambers at seventeen for a cup of tea. No arguing. No excuses. You're to be there.

Sincerely,

General Kirigan

You smile.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52696933/chapters/133293721

[imightgetbetter]

our first kiss

ahhhhhhh. hi. it's me. this is so weird. i haven't been nervous to post a story like this in years. probably because it's a totally different fan space and group and all that. there's a first time for everything. i have a whole idea for a series of things i want to write, we shall see if they come to fruition. for now, here you go. just a little something. (this is literally the smallest piece of writing i think i've posted in seven years). have fun <3 happy reading!

Outside, everything is quiet in the simplest of ways – the honking that usually busies the streets has subsided, just a few passing cars beneath them, the lights flickering and the occasional yell or holler from someone on the street echoing around the seemingly empty avenue. One light is shining from the bedroom where the landing leads to, and you can hear a faint grunt and murmured swears as your darling company finally makes his way back to the metal escape. His hand is clutching the neck of the guitar you purchased for his birthday, the back of which is decorated in an array of randomized drawings that somehow felt fitting for him – a carton of cigarettes, a mouse with a cookie, a rose that looked awfully similar to the one you have dried and pressed from your first date. Mouth nursing a cigarette, he teasingly pulls it from your lips as he settles against the railing, the guitar now settled on his thighs and his worn-in notebook propped open with a pen. He reaches for the lighter, cupping the fire around the end until it’s lit and ashy with his inhale.

His hand lays on your knee and squeezes it gently, lovingly. “Can’t have you picking up a bad habit from me, darling. Already have too many of those.”

“You were once a bad habit, you know,” you say, peering at him through hooded eyes masked behind wire-framed glasses, the light from your computer lighting your face. He smirks, shaking his head without saying a word, simply basking in knowing that a bad habit had turned into this, into sharing an apartment in a city you love, into late nights on the fire escape, creating your art together, art that is often about each other, even if you don’t know it. And he doesn’t know it, that the collection of essays being stored in your hard drive are about the lessons of being in love, lessons that you learned with him.

His eyes flicker from where he’s strumming at the heart of the guitar to you, a smile printed on his features that you know well – the smile that comes from your favorite bottle of wine at dinner, a stray glass or two in a shared bath. “Am I still a bad habit, my love?”

“Only when you distract me from my work,” you say, nudging your knee into his calf, a smile toying at the corners of your lips as he nudges you back.

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips to where your fingers are working diligently against your keyboard. “How far have you gotten today?”

“About halfway into this essay,” you hum, leaning your head to the side, trying to get a peek at the lyrics being scribbled into the notebook. “How’s the song coming?”

“Good, I think. Question for you actually,” he says quietly, aware of the sleeping neighbors and easily disturbed animals surrounding the apartment. He waits for you to nod, closing your laptop quietly to give him your sole attention. “Our first kiss, where was it again?”

“Matthew.”

“In my defense, love, we’d had many drunken kisses before I’d actually kissed you sober and well-intentioned.”

“Are you trying to tell me the other times were ill-intentioned?”

“Yes, I am, actually. I was eighteen, darling. There are no good intentions at eighteen.” His eyes soften when you giggle quietly, the hardened expression washing away from your features as you hum knowingly, and a tiny smile begins itching at your cheeks. “It was during that holiday we took during Christmas. I remember that.”

“Walmart, I think,” you say, the memory suddenly feeling a bit hazy and out of touch. “You’d come to visit me for the holiday break because I couldn’t fly home. I was sick, I wanted a puzzle or something to do while I was stuck alone. You’d grabbed the one I wanted, and I kissed your cheek.”

“I turned my head, and I kissed you,” he says surely, interrupting your recollection of the memory. His smile as he told the story warms you from your head to your toes. He doesn’t need to say that he loves you for you to feel so. “I knew I was going to get the nastiest flu of my life, but I didn’t even care.”

“I yelled at you for kissing me. I didn’t want to get you sick, even though that was a bit of a lost cause considering we were sharing a bed while you stayed with me.”

“And that’s why I kissed you, again,” he says proudly, reaching for your hand and tugging you towards him. You know exactly what he wants you to do, and you do so easily. Closing your laptop, you maneuver yourself over the small space, settling between his open thighs. His arms circle around you, the guitar settled on your thighs, your head laying against his chest. He presses his mouth to your head, “I wish it hadn’t taken so long. I feel like I got years stolen away.”

“Hm?”

“Us, you know?” his murmurs, gently strumming the guitar and leaning his head on your head, humming a melody that surely just came to mind. “I wish I would’ve just moved with you.”

“I don’t,” you say quietly, leaning forward and turning to face him, your hands reaching to cup his cheeks and bring his eyes to meet yours. “I don’t because I love seeing you live your dream, and that wouldn’t have happened if you moved with me. All this happened like it was supposed to, you know that.” Matty’s eyes are pouring into yours, the deepest amounts of love washing over you. “Not to mention, if we weren’t apart, we wouldn’t have like, the best love songs to ever exist.”

Matty laughs, rolling his eyes as you lean your head forward, your nose brushing against his. “I want you with me all the time, you know that?”

“I know.”

“I want so many things with you.”

“And you can have them,” you say, brushing your lips against his ever so slightly. “I���ll be waiting, ready to go.”

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie - Reading List Weeks 161 -162

Welcome to Weeks 161 & 162

A/N: I just want to thank everyone who gave me recommendations for new authors and mutual authors fanfics. I found so many authors that I already have a list for next week! 💜

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal-boosting them. The author is listed next to the title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

For my Masterlist click HERE

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Header by @fictional-affairs

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Inferno - (Andy x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie

Bucky Oneshot - @angrythingstarlight

Ari Oneshot - @biteofcherry

Opening the heart - (Wanda x Victor Von Doom) - @nekoannie-chan

Real Life Tasks With Ransom - Day 16 - @wiypt-writes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

The Root of all Ransom - Part 4 - (Ransom x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

Though I Have Never Read It - Part 3 - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

Threadbare - Part 3 - (Steve x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

The Barracuda - (Andy x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Love in Lace - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Light It Up - (Curtis x Reader) - @navybrat817

What Happens in Vegas - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Before you - Normal ending - (Steve x Reader) - @holylulusworld

A (not) good cake slice - (Wanda x Steve) - @nekoannie-chan

Taking It All - (Nick x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Love, Love, Love - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Want you to want me - (Ari x Reader) - @sunshinebuckybarnes

Under the Clouds - (Lee x Reader) - @tumblin-theworldaway

Ari Drabble - @late-to-the-party-81

Ex-factor - (Curtis x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

Lee Bodecker Oneshot - @lunarbuck

Close Quarters - (Jake x Reader) - @stargazingfangirl18

Playing With Fire - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

On My Mind - (Bucky x Reader) - @targaryenvampireslayer

"Are we friends?" "I don't think so" - @nekoannie-chan

No One, But Me - (Lloyd x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

Bathtime - (Curtis x Reader) - @boxofbonesfic

Meet Me at Our Spot - (Andy x Reader) - @geniedetails

Open Up - (Ari x Black! Reader) - @galatially

Shades of Gray - @spectre-posts @what-is-your-plan-today

3 Billion Divorce - Part 5 - (Lloyd x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Collared part 18 - @spnexploration

Fresh Fallen Snow, Part 5 - (Curtis x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

Hands off - Part 5 - (Stucky x Reader) - @darsynia

Twice (Nick x Reader) - @andydrysdalerogers

And Mine You Shall Be - (Steve x Reader) - @wint3r-h3art

No One Special - (Lee x Reader) - @springdandelixn

Should've - (Lee x Reader) - @shadeysprings

Breakfast in Bed - @fluffyprettykitty

Sign the Dotted Line - (Andy x Reader) - @navybrat817

Special Delivery - (Mr Freezy x Reader) - @xxindiglow

staying in - (Bucky x Reader) - @bucky-bucket-barnes

Destroyer!Chris drabble - @biteofcherry

Midnight Surprise - (Bucky x Reader) - @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor

40’s!Bucky Drabble - @pellucid-constellations

[gumnut-logic]

Cethair (intro)

Óen | Cethair

Okay, so about a third of you who voted requested some more Thunderdragons. I don't have much, and I need to write more, but here is the intro to the fic about Gordon's dragon.

This is a standalone fic that happens a few years before Óen. There are no HTTYD characters in this one. I needed to write it to sort out their history so I could write Óen. This AU/Crossover is hard work :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight and @idontknowreallywhy for all their support on this project. And many thanks to those of you who answered my poll today. It gives me an idea of what you guys would prefer. As always, I can't guarantee anything (stupid brain won't even do what I prefer), but you never know.

Oh, and this is apparently my 12,008th post on this blog. Go me :D

I hope you enjoy this bit.

-o-o-o-

Virgil O’Treasaigh hurried between the tents careful not to trip on the pitch lines, but moving as fast as possible nonetheless.

The Flaithri’s tent was not far, the stamp of the Thunderbird was lit up by the torches clearly in the night, but it felt like leagues into the distance.

Perhaps because the title of Flaithri had shifted so recently and so painfully. Because behind that stamp he would no longer find his father, but instead his eldest brother.

And he feared his mood.

His flight leathers rubbed in places sore from travel and he let out a breath.

Casey had placed guards at the tent, the soldiers eyes sharp as he passed between them without question, striding through the tightly woven flax as it was whipped up by the wind off the black ocean to the west.

“Flaithri, I must speak with you.”

His brother was pacing, of a sort, the injury to his leg forcing a limp that had Virgil biting back protest. Considering the slice to his thigh, it was a sign of his agitation that he could pace at all.

Kyrano stood to one side, his eagle eyes watching everything. His daughter,  Tan, may as well have been a statue in his honour, her stance so mirrored her father’s.

“Scott!”

His brother stopped. His stance lopsided as he turned to face Virgil. “News?”

Virgil swallowed. “Mathair Chriona fears he will not see the light of morning.”

He watched his brother absorb the information. Ever the king he was born to be, there were no tears, only hurt in the depths of his eyes. “Nothing can be done?”

“We have tried everything. He has lost too much and his heart is beginning to falter.” Virgil’s voice cracked on the last word and his head dipped, his own calm strained beyond exhaustion and grief.

A hand landed on his shoulder, fingers tightening almost enough to cause pain. “John has spoken to Cóic.”

Virgil’s head shot up. “No!”

“Virgil, I will lose no more family today.”

And the blue of his brother’s eyes was terrible. Because today they had seen their father taken from them, the fire of Gaat’s beast scorching him from the earth.

The attack had been sudden and unexpected. Cóic had been unable to give warning, still too young to have the reach of an adult matriarch.

They had thought they were safe, hidden in the mountains in the land of the Picts, far from their homeland and the decimation the Scourge had wrought. They thought that Gaat could not find them.

His attack had targeted John and Cóic as it always did. Cóic was what he wanted, of course. The power of the Matriarch and the offence of John receiving the gift and not him had maddened the man.

But John had family and their father had intervened to protect and given his life. It was Gordon, seamaster at arms, who had leapt up onto the worm, stabbed the man, and ended the fight.

But despite his victory, Gaat’s beast had shaken him off and Gordon had fallen. If that was not enough, the cursed worm had then raked Virgil’s little brother with fire.

Gaat had been desperate and had withdrawn to lick his wounds.

But Gordon, dear Gordon…

A single tear tracked down Virgil’s cheek.

“Cóic will save him.”

“She can’t. We don’t know what creatures might be willing. What is the price?!”

But there was blue fire in those eyes. “His life.”

-o-o-o-

Next

[hussyknee]

Posted to Reddit midnight last night at 1am:

3am: Facebook post on local help page.

(amount in LKR. I am very poor and unemployed and live with my mother, who is Satan.)

OIC = Officer In Charge

Bindu = Family doggo. Usually a gentle lad who's all bark, but an entire brigade of strange burly men in gear chasing him (as he felt) all the way to his safe spot was too much.

Passa pattha = backside

Mau didn't come when I fed the kits their breakfast before I crashed, and was still nowhere to be seen when I woke up at 1pm in time for their lunch. Had to hobble around the street calling his name for ten minutes before he came barrelling from god knows where, muddy and filthy. Had to wash and scrub him thoroughly. He's always 80% nerves and hyperactivity, but he's really dialed up today so I ended up getting scratched all over.

I discovered I may have been unfair to him. He's absolutely an overdramatic ninny, but I noticed his nails were quite long. He has six scratch baskets and escapes outside more than the other two but all that's done is give him needle claws apparently. He probably couldn't get as good a purchase on the slippery roof sheets as his brother and sister. My poor baby. They're all completely fine though.

I am not. I feel like my arms and legs are about to fall off. I wish they would. My knees are throbbing like they're arthritic again.

Heading off questions:

Why didn't you call the fire brigade in the first place? Because I've been confined by disability and abused by various people my entire adult life and the only people who have ever helped me with my rescues have been kind strangers. Also the emergency helplines in this country are useless. I once called 119 because I thought I was having a heart attack and was told this was the police line and had to call the ambulance one separately. They then called two hours later asking if I still needed the police. The fire brigade was the most positive interaction I've yet had with a state service, and even they usually only respond to pet rescues when it looks like the animal's life is in danger.

How are you poor when you have a three storey house with a maid and driver? My mother has a three storey house with a maid and driver, on account of having made good money for 45 years. We're poor because she saved none of it for retirement. This is South Asia, middle class poverty is when you don't know if you can pay the electric before it's cut off but still have a maid there's always someone poorer than you who needs to eat. It's all very Little Women. The three storey house is a white elephant financial hole that isn't a South Asian thing but a "my mother is a deranged spendthrift" thing. I live in a gothic novel.

Why don't you keep your cats inside? Because we live in a house that's half verandahs and balconies in the tropics and we can't keep it shut on all sides without killing everyone inside it. And, like I said, nobody will lift a finger to help and trying to make any modifications makes my mother scream like a demon from the depths of Gehenna. Of the four other adults in this house, the only one I could get to help me with Mau was the old driver.

How did you get up to look over the wall before the driver brought the ladder up? I got on a chair and climbed onto a ledge off the side, rising on my tip toes and clinging to the wall for dear life. While trying to wrangle a broom on a line and calling and coaxing. For hours. I have balance issues and can barely change a light bulb without help. Was too exhausted to be scared around hour three.

You're being kind of mean to Mau. You'd be terrified too. Yes, but I am not a cat. A cat being scared of heights feels a bit like letting your species down on an existential level. Also I never so much as wanted to yell at the little fucker, sang him lullabies until the firemen arrived, and spent a total of eight hours on my feet until they got him down. I'm still not mad at any of them even when I rue the day some liar told me cats were easier than dogs.

Anyway, all's well in Mau-land.

For now.

[el-ly-sha-give-no-f]

hellooo could you make a picture on Hakim Ziyech that he is wife! reader have an age gap (she is 24 years old) except that it never shocked their family apart from the girl fans of hakim who are jealous so he tries to find n Doesn't matter if she has a pretext to give the reader a bad image of her

"Detest"

Hakim Ziyech x Wife!reader

WORDS : 1689

TW: nothing other than age gap relationship and fluff

Author note: Since many of you have been spaming my inbox for Hakim's fic, here I give you, Istg If you guys didn't read this, I'll hunt you guys one by one, and for anon, thank you for the ideas! I actually didn't read your request till the end so there's gonna be slight difference with your request, sorry ;(

You woke up earlier before Hakim; as usual, it's Saturday today, so that means hakim and you are free. Hakim has no training today, and you don't have any class, so you plan to make a simple breakfast for both of you.

You gently remove his hand from your waist, so you can get up from the bed without waking him up; he told you about how tired he was for this couple of days, so you let him rest for a little bit.

As you succeed in getting up from the bed, you tip-toed till you reach the door room, slowly to avoid making noise. Once you get out of the room, you start making your way to your house kitchen and start making breakfast. Just a simple omelette is enough. Due to Hakim's restricted diet, you can't do a lot with that,

After making the omelette, you go upstairs to your bedroom to check if he is still sleeping or already waking up from his sleep. Surprisingly, he is still sleeping like a baby. He really is tired, and he's not kidding about that. He is not even moving slightly; Hakim sleeps like when you left him earlier, so you go to him to wake him up.

"Hakim, wake up baby" you put your hand on his back as he is sleeping on his stomach, and his head turns sideways. You get close to his ear and start to whisper. "wake up, love; I made us breakfast."

To hakim, your voice is like a melody in his ears.

He started to stir from his sleep. He turns his head to your side and turn to lie on his back, You see him opening his eyes slowly due to the light coming into the room from the window.

"Morning wifey", you heard him, his morning voice always going to be your favourite thing; it's so attractive to you.

"Morning Hubby", you reply. "I make both of us omelette" You let him know. He nods and says thank you to you; Hakim asks you to wait for him because he wants to shower first before breakfast—typical Hakim.

While you wait for him to finish his shower, you sit on the living room couch downstairs and open your Instagram app on your phone.

You scroll through your feed until you find one headline posting enough to make your heart shattered. Picture of you and Hakim that you didn't quite remember when. But it's a picture of you holding his hand, walking around London.

"Hakim Ziyech married a 24 years old girl?" you read the headline title and continue to read the whole paragraph about both of you.

"The Chelsea footballer from Morocco is believed to be married to a girl that far different from his age. We also discovered her name and where she's studying.

Her name is Y/n Y/l/n, and she studies at Royal Holloway College in engineering courses. But that's not the actual point. We're going to talk about the age gap between the two of them, does Hakim's family okay with this? Do you think having an age gap in a relationship is okay? Let us know in the comment," You don't have to wait; the comment buttons on the screen make your hand itchy to tap it.

"Bro, what? You can do better Hakim."

"Hakim, what the heck is this? Can you see that she's not enough for you?"

"CUTE CUTE!! PARENTS!"

"They are both adults; they can think by themself; stop hating on innocent couple just because you guys are jealous!"

"There's nothing wrong with the age gap; at least they're happy and married, not like you; you guys that hate on him are disgusting af!"

"no thought, just weird."

"Hakim can pull every girl he want, but he choose the wrong one."

You don't even realise that your eyes start pooling with tears, but at least some of them are okay with this whole dilemma. You are so occupied reading the comment because it's so addictive to read.

You don't even realise Hakim is already downstairs, just finishing dressing himself up with a white t-shirt and sweatpants. How fast.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder, so you quickly turn off your phone before you turn around. Only to greet by Hakim face portrayed an unpleasant expression.

"Oh, hi you" you try to make everything look fine, but as soon as your tears come out, you know you have messed up.

"Don't. Hi me, why are you crying? What's a wrong sweetheart?" he asks you worriedly.

"Nothing Hakim I'm not crying, I'm yawning" you quickly wiped your tears. This time he proceeded to sit next to you.

"No, I'm not dumb, Y/n, you're crying, don't lie to me, tell me what's wrong?" he asks again, becoming more serious this time.

You just shook your head no; as soon as you wanted to leave the conversation, he grabbed your hand before you could leave the living room.

"Sit down; we talk about this", Hakim instruct. You try to get away from his grip and look at him again, but this time he gives you a stern look. "sit down". You do what he said, and you sit where you sat earlier. But your eyes are looking at the floor.

"Hey, look at me, angel, please" you ignore his call because you don't want him to see you in a state that you're currently trying so hard not to break down in front of him.

Until you feel Hakim hold your chin softly, so he can turn your sight and attention to him. "don't cry, I hate it when I see my wife cry", He tells you. Hakim brings you into hug. You can hear his soft heartbeat on your ears.

"shh, it's okay love, let it all out" you feel his hand rubbing your back smoothly. He waits until you calm down.

Once you stop crying, Hakim suddenly asks.

"can you give me your phone?" you look at him with confusion

"why?"

"just give it, baby, I want to know what makes my wife upset", he said

You no longer want to insist, so you just give him your phone. He takes your phone from your hand, and as you give him, Hakim opens the phone, and your lock screen pops up

A picture of him and you hugging each other while him kissing your crown, and you smile to the camera, you both took the pic when you both visit Dubai for you both Honeymoon

He inserts your password; of course, he knows your password; you're his wife, after all. After he inserts your phone password, the screen displays an Instagram comment section; you see him undo it to see what the posting is about. You saw him read for a while, open the comment section back, and scroll through it.

Unbelieve expression on his face, he turns his head to look at you.

"you know it's all not true, right?" you give him a silent reply and shrug.

"Y/n, please, don't let their words win; please, I'm begging you."

"But what they said is all correct," you said to him while your voice started to crack.

"okay show me, which one on the comment is correct? show me" he gives the phone back to you;

you cover your face with both hands and can't hold back your tears anymore. So you broke down once again.

"come here, Schatje" he opens his arm so you can hug him

"y/n, none of them is true; if only they knew how genuine you are, let's say the words are true; I don't think we will be married and living in the same house right now."

"Yes the age gap may be the problem, but not for us, for them, cause they don't know anything about our love life; it's not a problem for our family and friends. Did you see Ummi mad at me because Im married a beautiful young girl? no right? she even adore you and encourage me to keep you safe, what about your parents, do they mad at you for marrying a guy that older than you? no right?" he feels you nod on his chest so he continue

"There's no problem with us; the media are the ones who bring a problem. Please don't let them ruin our relationship; no please, I don't want that; you also don't want that to happen, right?"

You nod once again.

"Exactly baby, don't stress about it, just know that everything is alright, you're beautiful just the way you are; I don't care what people going to say about me, because I just know that I don't make any mistake in choosing, I fallen in love with a right person, she's a loyal and kind person, her love is unbeatable, her looks, well, her looks are a bonus thing for me, you're beautiful after all."

His words make you want to marry him for a second time.

You look up from his chest to look at him; then he turns his head to look down at you and give you a gentle smile.

"Do you mean all of it?" you ask him

"Of course my love"

"Thank you, Hakim, I'm sorry for being emotional this early in the morning", he wipes your tears with his soft hand.

"my pleasure and you have nothing to be sorry for; it's not your fault", He reassured and kissed you on your forehead.

"I'm hungry", you blurted out of nowhere; he laughed at what you just said and let you go of the hug.

"Okay, let's go; I want to eat my wife's food" He looks at you with a tease.

"It's just omelette Hakim," you tell him.

"But still!" He stands up, pulls you to him, and you both get ready for breakfast and start your day.

Indeed, the feeling unexplainable to become someone's wife, not to mention that your guy is a famous football player that playing with a big team. Very glad that you found Hakim; that's how you know Hakim is going to stick with you for the rest of your life.

Hziyech

Like by Achraf Hakimi, Ben Chilwell, Zakaria Aboukhlal, Jaoa Felix and 970,478 more

Hziyech: I've seen some posting and comments about my wife. I didn't happy with it at all. I just want to say that never in my life that I thought I made a wrong decision. I made a very right decision on marrying her, We don't care about the age gap or have no problem with it as long as we both love each other and our family and friends are pleased about our marriage, so I'm hoping you guys will give us some privacy. Thank you.

-Hakim Ziyech

COMMENT ON THIS POST HAS BEEN LIMITED

Zakaria Aboukhlal: Till Jannah

Ben Chilwell: beautiful marriage

Mason Mount: send my regards to y/n!

Achraf Hakimi: wishing you both the best!

Yourbff: May god ease everything

[gladstones-corner]

The Gnostic Creed - A Simple Look

Welcome back! It's been a little bit since my last series of posts, but I'm rested and recharged! So now it's time to get back to the analysis and commentary.

Today, we're going to discuss Crowley's Gnostic Creed, featured in Liber XV (the Gnostic Mass). Crowley originally wrote it in 1913 during a trip to Moscow; a year later, Thelemites performed the Mass publicly for the first time in London. Since then, the Gnostic Mass (and by extension, the Creed) has become the central public ritual and declaration for Thelemites.

While I won't discuss the Mass in its entirety here (That would be a series of posts), I"ll hit the high points and then dig into the Creed.

Without further delay, let's dive in. 

The Mass and the Creed 

As previously stated, Crowley wrote the Gnostic Mass in 1913 for the Ecclesiae Gnosticae Catholicae (E.G.C.), the ecclesiastical arm of the O.T.O.

Aside from the common purposes to religious gatherings (fostering community, tradition, and culture) the Mass was written to facilitate spiritual transformation. Through this transformation, participants commune with the divine and are imparted with mystic wisdom.

Central to the Mass is the Gnostic Creed. It is a collection of beliefs and confessions that elucidates the central values of the E.G.C. and O.T.O. The Gnostic Creed is short enough to reprint here, so before getting into any commentary, here it is:  

"I believe in one secret and ineffable LORD; and in one Star in the company of Stars of whose fire we are created, and to which we shall return; and in one Father of Life, Mystery of Mystery, in His name CHAOS, the sole viceregent of the Sun upon Earth; and in one Air the nourisher of all that breaths.  And I believe in one Earth, the Mother of us all, and in one Womb wherein all men are begotten, and wherein they shall rest, Mystery of Mystery, in Her name BABALON.  And I believe in the Serpent and the Lion, Mystery of Mystery, in His name BAPHOMET.  And I believe in one Gnostic and Catholic Church of Light, Life, Love and Liberty, the Word of whose Law is THELEMA.  And I believe in the communion of Saints.  And, forasmuch as meat and drink are transmuted in us daily into spiritual substance, I believe in the Miracle of the Mass.  And I confess one Baptism of Wisdom whereby we accomplish the Miracle of Incarnation.  And I confess my life one, individual, and eternal that was, and is, and is to come.  AUMGN, AUMGN, AUMGN"

(Crowley, Liber XV) 

Let's break it down, section by section. 

The Effable Names 

CHAOS, BABALON, BAPHOMET: these are the holy names given to the mystic energies that give rise to all. To understand any single one, you must understand them all in context.

CHAOS and BABALON stand at two ends of a spectrum. CHAOS represents the primordial state--unbridled energy and movement. BABALON represents that which gives shape to CHAOS--but more than that, she is the mystery of incarnation that drives existence. BAPHOMET is the unification and transcendence of this polarity--they hold the other two in perfect balance. 

Do What Thou Wilt 

With the fundamental ideas of polarity and balance in mind, we can move to the central statement of the Creed: 

"And I believe in one Gnostic and Catholic Church of Light, Life, Love and Liberty, the Word of whose Law is THELEMA"

(Crowley, Liber XV) 

Let's start at the end. THELEMA is the central concept of Crowley's religious philosophy. It is Greek for divine "Will". To realize one's THELEMA is to discover one's true purpose, whose nature is invariably a path towards spiritual Light and eternal Life, founded upon the principles of universal Love and Liberty.

 Individuals who believe in this statement are considered part of the Gnostic Catholic Church. Let's break that down a little more.

Catholic in this case does not mean Roman Catholic. Crowley uses the archaic form, meaning Universal. Gnostic in this case emphasizes the individual experience and interaction with the divine.

Therefore, to believe in this statement is to be a part of the universalist, individualist Church that follows the law of THELEMA.

 

Other Beliefs 

The other two beliefs of the Gnostic Creed are not nearly as complicated as the first one. They are the beliefs in the Communion of Saints and the Miracle of Mass.

First, the Communion of Saints. This is a declaration of reverence for all individuals whose actions have embodied or irrevocably influenced the Thelemic path. They do not have to be Thelemic themselves, but they do need to have a contribution to humanity's evolution. Note, too, that Gnostic Saints don't need to be deceased (or even born yet) to qualify for sainthood. For a full list of Thelemic Saints, please reference this page on the Hermetic Library. 

Next, the Miracle of Mass. The Creed states this: so far as we can convert subsistence into fuel, so can we also take the grosser aspects of ourselves and convert them into spiritual enlightenment. In fact, it's all one process: 'meat and drink' are converted into energy, which contributes to our well-being, which allows us to grow. This is the secret of alchemy.

 

I Have Confessions to Make 

To round out the Gnostic Creed, there are two confessions. Think about them like this: where beliefs are theorems, confessions are postulates. They are the confessions of the Baptism of Wisdom and the Eternal Life.

The Baptism of Wisdom is heady. Essentially, it is the first realization of one's THELEMA through the activation of the Personal Genius. This doesn't mean you're immediately aware of your entire THELEMA, nor does it mean you'll avoid all struggle and pain. The Baptism of Wisdom means that you acknowledge the transcendent spiritual awareness that allows you to participate as a proactive force in your life.

The confession of Eternal Life is also heady. The Creed implies that life is both eternal and punctuated--interconnected, yet independent. This confession acknowledges the oneness inherent in all things while still recognizing the uniqueness in every individual thing. The goal here is to increase confidence in the self, while decreasing fear of the unknown.

 

The Closing Syllable 

Creeds, like prayers, benefit from a strong closing statement. In the Gnostic Creed, it's a triple AUMGN--which is actually two distinct syllables: AUM and GN.

AUM is a different phonetic spelling of the Sanskrit OM. Crowley chose this spelling because each letter in AUM has a distinct meaning: Creation (A), Sustainment (U), and Destruction (M). Together, they form the totality of existence and experience. 

The final GN is a Gnostic addition that represents Dynamism. Where Creation and Destruction are balanced opposites, Sustainment has none to offset its less savory aspects. However, GN adds the concept of Dynamism to the formula. This provides a counterbalance against the stagnation of Sustainment. As one statement, AUMGN creates an equation for spiritual transformation. 

One final note: I had a lot of trouble figuring out how to pronounce this word. It's roughly phonetic, but I thought it would be helpful to include the pronunciation here. It's OWm-GAN, where GAN makes the "gne" sound in "champagne". It takes some practice, but it's easier than it seems. 

Conclusion 

And that's it for the Gnostic Creed, at least for now! As with all of Crowley's works, there are deeper layers that warrant further discussion—but we'll cover those later. 

For now, and as always, thank you for reading. I look forward to hearing back from you all and learning your thoughts on the Creed and what it means. 

Stay safe, stay tuned; blessed be~ 

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Waves are Rising and Rising

|Beginning| |Previous|

Chapter 17 - Epilogue

It's the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who followed along while we were posting this, it's been so much fun reading all your comments and seeing you love reading this as much as we did writing it. If you aren't quite ready to let go of this universe yet you're in luck, because we weren't either when we finished it and so we've written some extras! They'll be posting in the near future so you should subscribe to the series on AO3 or keep an eye out on things here if you want to read those. There are also some clarifications in the end notes of this chapter on AO3 based on questions we saw cropping up in the comments, so check those out too. Anyway, enjoy the epilogue and thanks again for being here!

--//--

“XIAO-JIUJIU!!!”

Jin Guangyao spares a moment — just one — to press the tip of his index finger between his brows. It probably would have been a better idea to cover his ears, considering Jin Ling’s shriek could likely be used to shatter glass and he’d done it right next to him, but the boy has already detached from clinging to his leg to sprint full-tilt across the courtyard towards the uncle in question, so it’s a lost cause either way.

As much as A-Ling’s manners leave something to be desired, he can’t exactly begrudge the boy his excitement, and in the kindest, most loving way possible it’s a bit of a relief not to have a chatterbox toddler clinging to his skirts anymore, so he doesn’t call out a correction either. Jinlintai is abuzz with a general air of excitement and bustle which Jin Guangyao is, of course, in charge of maintaining and which Jiang Wanyin is still no better at pretending to enjoy even after years as Sect Leader, so he’ll likely be glad for the interruption of his nephew before any socialising begins.

Jin Guangyao dusts himself off and continues on his way with no more than a perfunctory nod to his sort-of-brother-in-law, who returns it with the same as Jin Ling begins talking his ear off where he’s perched on Jiang Wanyin’s hip.

There are only a few more details to oversee, thankfully, and by now Jinlintai runs like a well-oiled machine at the smallest hint of a hosting opportunity, so his presence is really more of a formality than a genuine need. Still, he knows that if one wants things done right one must oversee them oneself, so he directs servants with discreet gestures and nods of thanks or approval; he lets his path take him through the kitchens, where no one stops him in the midst of all their juggling of platters and things bubbling away on the stoves warming the room to nearly-unbearable temperatures. He’s happy not to stop and put out any metaphorical fires — the menu had been agreed upon months ago and the last of the ingredients delivered at first light this morning, there should be nothing to interrupt the well-choreographed dance of a major feast. He checks the gardens next, ensuring that the public areas have been pruned and arranged to their absolute best, and that the private gardens are full of comfortable benches and bowers from which to appreciate the oceans of peonies in bloom.

Jin Guangyao’s route ends in his quarters where he’s finally free to change into the best set of robes he owns — swathes of cream and coral silk, cloth-of-gold, and shining peonies embroidered along the edges of the sleeves and collars that are perfect miniatures of the real things growing just beyond his windows. He smiles to hear the door sliding open as he settles at his dressing table, and by now he doesn’t even have to look to know exactly what comes next. He unpins his everyday guan and unthreads it off his high ponytail, setting it down gently on its tray amongst its compatriots as broad, calloused hands start unwinding the leather tie at the base of the tail so it can be combed out and restyled.

“What are you thinking for today, A-Yao?” Nie Mingjue asks him, already resplendent in his best robes, almost as richly embroidered in silver as Jin Guangyao’s are in gold. Jin Guangyao hums as his eyes trace what he can see of the geometric designs in his polished bronze mirror, smiling when Nie Mingjue ducks down enough to meet his gaze in the reflection.

“I liked what you did for Wangji’s wedding in Gusu,” he decides, “though I don’t have the same ornaments with me here.”

“I’ll work with whatever you have, it’s not like you’re wanting for jewels,” Nie Mingjue shrugs. He stands straight again to section off Jin Guangyao’s thick hair and begin braiding with deft skill, a simple but flattering pattern that’ll keep his hair out of his face and off his neck as well as provide a decent anchor for his heaviest guan, once they’re all plaited together and wound around the rest of his hair on top of his head. Nie Mingjue takes care to weave in some of the various gold chains and ornaments that Jin Guangyao has acquired over the years as he goes; he doesn’t wear them all the time like his brothers tend to, but this is of course the perfect occasion to go a little overboard.

They work in companionable silence for a few minutes, Jin Guangyao letting his eyes slip shut to take a moment to rest and let Nie Mingjue take care of him. He still struggles with too much silence, though, so when Nie Mingjue finishes one braid and begins the next he cracks one eye open to look at him in the mirror again, though with Nie Mingjue standing straight again he can only see up to his throat.

“Did you meet with Wei Wuxian this morning?”

Nie Mingjue grunts in the affirmative and Jin Guangyao raises one brow, waiting pointedly for his partner to elaborate.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Nie Mingjue clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “He’s happy with where I’m at, considering how much hunting I’ve had to do with that yao infestation at the border last month. I’ll just take it easy for a while to let the extra resentment clear out of Baxia and my meridians, then I’ll keep going from there with his latest cleansing regimen. It’s been working well enough to hold us over when I can’t see you or A-Huan.”

Jin Guangyao can’t help but smile, nothing more than a pleased softening at the corners of his mouth. “Chifeng-Zun agreeing to take it easy?” he teases. “What trick has Wei Wuxian discovered that er-ge and I have yet to stumble upon? Please forgive this humble one for failing in his marital duties-”

Nie Mingjue cuts him off with an irritated click of his teeth and a painless tug on the braid he’s weaving. “Shut up, you know I only agree when he suggests it because of you and A-Huan. Where is A-Huan, by the way?”

“Last I saw he and Wangji were practising their composition for the celebration. He should be here soon.”

“I’m here now,” Lan Xichen says from the door, sliding it shut behind himself with a gentle clack. “Am I needed?”

“Always,” Nie Mingjue replies a little distractedly; he’s currently attempting to thread a gold bead smaller than one of his fingernails onto the braid he’s working on, so Jin Guangyao thinks it’s fair. Jin Guangyao holds one hand out towards the door without moving his head, and his smile widens when Lan Xichen crosses the room in just a few strides to take his outstretched hand in both of his to bring it to his lips for a quick kiss to his fingertips.

“Everything looks lovely as ever, A-Yao. Jiang Yanli wished for me to tell you she requests your presence once you’re dressed. I believe she wants to talk to you before the guests start arriving.”

“Ah, of course.”

“A-Yao, pass me something to tie this all off with. I’m guessing you want your wedding guan?”

Jin Guangyao’s cheeks are starting to ache but he can’t bring himself to stop smiling. He passes Nie Mingjue a length of white silk that isn’t a Lan forehead ribbon (but it’s not not a Lan ribbon) while Lan Xichen picks up the guan in question and the pins that go with it.

With his hair finished and his robes lying perfectly, as judged by Lan Xichen’s discerning eye, Jin Guangyao spares enough time to kiss his partners and appreciate them in all their finery before he sweeps from their quarters again to find Jiang Yanli. She’s sitting where she has been all morning, surrounded on all sides by peonies and cushions and silk hangings to keep the sun from creeping into the gazebo nestled in the middle of the east garden. It’s a private space without keeping her hidden, and as Jin Guangyao steps off the main path to cross to her he nods at Luo Qingyang marching past him in the opposite direction.

“Lianfang-Zun,” she salutes, casual and friendly. She’s a good vice general, a sensible and skilled leader who’s quick to discipline anyone she feels needs a lesson. Between the two of them they manage things in Jinlintai quite well, he thinks; it’ll likely always be a viper’s nest, there are far too many power-hungry uncles and aunts and cousins for it not to be, but between their prowess on the battlefield and in the political arena, and Jin Zixuan’s refusal to entertain his more… eccentric relatives any more than strictly necessary, there’s a better buffer there than there has been in years.

“A-Yao, your timing is perfect as always,” Jiang Yanli calls with a smile, soft and warm.

“Sao-zi,” he greets, ducking through the gauzy hangings to settle on the bench beside her, mindful not to crush the delicate silk of her lilac overgown. “I trust your brothers have already paid their visit?”

“Naturally, and muqin as well. You may therefore expect peace and quiet,” she laughs, the infant in her arms cooing in the next moment as if on cue. Their next moves are just as smoothly choreographed as the servants setting the banquet hall, or the kitchens preparing the feast; Jin Guangyao holds his arms out and Jiang Yanli gently slides the bundle of warm silk and tiny baby into his arms. It isn’t the first time he’s held his new niece, of course, but the joy of it hits him just as hard as the first time, and he smiles down at her so widely his cheeks start aching again.

“Hello,” he murmurs as she blinks enormous, dark eyes up at him, tiny lips parted and one hand escaping her swaddling to reach for his ear to tug on in lieu of his hair, all gathered up safely out of her reach.

“A-Xuan tells me you’re going to take some time off after this,” Jiang Yanli says after a few minutes of resting her eyes while she doesn’t have to worry about holding her daughter.

“Yes, I have been dragooned into service in Cloud Recesses,” he tells little A-Lu, currently gumming at her fingers with single-minded effort in lieu of finding tempting locks of hair to pull. “They are using the rebuilding of the training grounds as an excuse to redesign them for their increasing discipleship, and it is time to fully catalogue the repaired contents of the library. Mingjue and I are offering our expertise while Lan-xiansheng will be occupied with the summer lectures.”

Jiang Yanli hums softly and settles more firmly into her pile of cushions. With some amusement, she asks, “And naturally an extended period of time with Zewu-Jun is completely secondary to your purely philanthropic offer?”

Jin Guangyao finally looks up from his niece to offer her his widest, most insincere smile and a bland, “As sao-zi says,” for the delight of startling her into sparkling laughter, loud enough to echo back off the pavilion across the garden. A-Lu shrieks and waves her spit-shiny fist in the air, so Jin Guangyao catches her tiny fingers to let her wrap them in a death-grip around his index finger.

“I trust that Chengmei and Yu-didi won’t be allowed to commit too much mischief in my absence,” he notes as he watches Jin Zixuan enter the garden, spot them, wave only-slightly-awkwardly, and then stop a polite distance away; it must not be urgent, then.

“I don’t believe that’s something anyone can guarantee without your clever distractions to occupy them, but if they cause too much of a fuss I’ll send for A-Xian to come rein them back in,” she replies, unconcerned. It’ll have to do, and he’ll only be gone for a few weeks anyway. While history has taught that Xue Yang is anything but predictable, of course, he is at least less volatile these days now that he’s allowed to swing a sword covered in experimental talismans at a practice dummy as much as he wants, with Mo Xuanyu always happy to stick a nose in and reel off a list of questions if it means escaping his more traditional studies. It’s a work in progress, as so many things still are, but that’s not always a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan turns to look over his shoulder and then steps aside, and something in the vicinity of Jin Guangyao’s heart melts as he sees his partners coming up the path, walking sedately shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent together to chat. It must be time to begin greeting guests, they wouldn’t come to fetch him otherwise, but he doesn’t move for another few moments in favour of watching them pause to talk to Jin Zixuan.

“Married life suits you, A-Yao,” Jiang Yanli muses; she’s one of the few people in the know — even had he not invited her to participate in their Lanling tea ceremony, Meng Shi’s memorial tablet cradled carefully in her hands while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue poured for her, she’s too astute not to have noticed it the day Lan Xichen started wearing his hair in a full up-do, his neat bun stuck through with a gold zanzi in quiet violation of the Lan rule against excessive ornamentation. From there it would have only been a short leap to understand Nie Mingjue’s abrupt preference for a new configuration of braids and ornaments, painstakingly taught to both Jin Guangyao and Lan Xichen by Nie Huaisang for their Qinghe ceremony. Though perhaps most telling of all are the white silk bands tied around his and Nie Mingjue’s wrists that are clear matches for the one around Lan Xichen’s forehead, tied on in a final ceremony in Gusu with Lan Qiren, Lan Wangji, and Wei Wuxian for witnesses. They’re as married as they can be, at least, and Jin Guangyao privately agrees with his sister-in-law — it suits him very well.

“Thank you, sao-zi. I believe my husbands have come to fetch me to return to my hosting duties, though. Will I pass xiao-Lu to Zixuan?”

Jiang Yanli smiles and shakes her head, holding her arms out for her daughter again. “I’m feeling quite well, I’ll keep holding her. We’ll be inside shortly to help you.”

Jin Guangyao passes the infant to Jiang Yanli and stands, shaking out his skirts and making sure he doesn’t get caught on anything on his way out of the little bower to cross the gardens again to meet his partners and his brother on the path.

“A-Yao,” Jin Zixuan greets with a nod. “I was just saying you’ve certainly earned your time away, you’ve outdone yourself. Truly.”

“You’re welcome, xiongzhang,” he replies with a little bow.

“I’m going to check on A-Li, I’ll see you all inside.” Jin Zixuan bows again, a little deeper, and beats a hasty retreat; his desire to know as little as possible about their relationship hasn’t changed one bit since they’d first discussed it, and Jin Guangyao can’t help but find it funny (Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue had poured him tea, as the closest thing to a family authority figure Jin Guangyao has. Jin Zixuan has personally married them and he still escapes their combined company whenever possible. It’s ridiculous). Jin Guangyao tamps down a wave of bemused affection in favour of looking up at his partners.

“Time to go?”

“Nearly. Wen-daifu just arrived, we thought you might like to say hello before the more official greetings begin. She’s in your receiving room.”

“She’s having tea with Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue adds and starts to usher them back down the path towards the more public areas with his hands pressed lightly to the smalls of their backs, “so I can only assume she’ll be looking for a rescue sooner rather than later.”

“Perhaps we can tell her that we want a second opinion on Wei Wuxian’s latest diagnosis,” Jin Guangyao muses. Not that he doesn’t trust Wei Wuxian’s assessment of Nie Mingjue’s progress, but well. It’s usually more fun to act like he doesn’t for the sake of winding up Wei Wuxian.

“...-ust saying, Qing-jiejie, I really think you’re onto something!” Jin Guangyao stops both his partners with a hand on their chests, Nie Mingjue’s fingertips freezing an inch away from the door to the receiving room in question. Lan Xichen raises an eyebrow at him but Jin Guangyao just shushes him with a finger to his lips and leans in closer, openly eavesdropping. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but even muffled through the door, Nie Huaisang is very clearly using his ‘I’m being a little shithead’ voice and Jin Guangyao is curious, there’s nothing wrong with that.

“I mean it! Da-ge is doing soooo much better, you really ought to publish your findings so others can try it!”

“Nie-gongzi we have seen nothing that proves Nie-zongzhu’s incredible progress isn’t simply a lucky break and I have disciples to train. I do not have the time to publish a manual on dual cultivation.”

“If you need more evidence we can work on that first! Listen, I’ve been experiencing some… rages-” Jin Guangyao has to clap a hand over his mouth to stop from snorting as Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen cover their eyes in unison, silently lamenting the clear suggestiveness in Nie Huaisang’s voice as he continues, “-you know, such awful imbalances in my qi, so if you happen to know any big strong cultivators looking for someone to rai-”

“I am not a matchmaker, Nie Huaisang!”

Jin Guangyao turns around and doubles over, biting the heel of his palm to try not to laugh and blow their cover. It’s pointless anyway — Nie Mingjue shoves the door open with a slam that rattles the wood in its frame and Nie Huaisang yelps a terrified, “Da-ge!!” nearly hidden under Nie Mingjue’s, “Come here you little shit!!”

“Wen-daifu,” Lan Xichen greets much more calmly, very much as if Nie Mingjue hasn’t wrestled Nie Huaisang to the floor to sit on him in punishment. Jin Guangyao disguises his laughter as a few coughs that convince nobody, he assumes, and steps into the room last to find Wen Qing trying hard to scowl around a reluctant smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

“Zewu-Jun, Lianfang-Zun. I trust I’m saved from Nie-gongzi’s hospitality?”

(“Get off me da-ge, it was a valid question!!!”

“I’m going to run you through so many drills you miserable little- don’t bite me!”)

“We were hoping you might be willing to check da-ge’s qi for us,” Jin Guangyao says and steps aside to gesture towards the open door behind him. “Nie-gongzi was just leaving.”

Nie Huaisang leaves in a flurry of fluttering silk sleeves and a closed fan pointed ‘threateningly’ at Nie Mingjue over his shoulder on his way out, and thankfully it doesn’t take the rest of them long at all to get settled in again at the table. Jin Guangyao pours tea for them all and settles in to sip at his with Lan Xichen, both of them watching carefully as Wen Qing presses two fingertips to the pulse-point in Nie Mingjue’s bare wrist.

She lingers for a few long moments, nothing more intense in her expression than concentration. When she opens her eyes again she reaches for her tea and Nie Mingjue tugs his sleeve back down, perfectly relaxed.

“I’m assuming Wei Wuxian already told you you’ve technically overextended recently?”

Nie Mingjue nods, but doesn’t look at all apologetic. Jin Guangyao wouldn’t expect him to, of course. “There was a nest of yao by the border with Qishan, had to be done. I’ll do some extra meditating in Gusu.”

Wen Qing raises an eyebrow but saves them all from some cutting remark about what else they’ll likely be doing plenty of in the privacy of the Hanshi.

“Extra check-ups then as well with myself or A-Ning, since you’ll be close by anyway. Wei Wuxian’s work with the saber spirits is helping almost as much as your triple cultivating; maybe he can solve the last few issues with it while you’re around.”

Nie Mingjue shrugs, but he can’t hide the relief softening the corners of his eyes or the hard edges of his perpetual frown.

“No better place to try than Cloud Recesses, I guess.”

“Wen-daifu,” Lan Xichen clears his throat delicately, “will you truly never publish your work with dual cultivation?”

Wen Qing sighs and looks at them all in turn before shaking her head, though it looks more like defeat than denial.

“Maybe one day I’ll be able to figure out what it is about your qi that makes this work so well, but you three are truly one-of-a-kind as far as I’m aware. I’ll consider it for a time when I have fewer things to do, and if you would like to write your own accounts of course that’s your business, though I would ask that I be consulted on any part where my research is referenced. But as for me… no, I’m not currently interested in writing a sex manual for cultivators, medical or otherwise.”

Nie Mingjue snorts tea out of his nose; Jin Guangyao passes him a handkerchief without a word. They’re saved from replying by a faint tapping at the door, and Jin Guangyao stands to open it to find Lan Wangji on the other side, looking down at him as coolly as ever.

“Laoling Qin and Baling Ouyang have arrived.”

“Ah.”

“We’ll join you shortly, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen promises with his ever-present gentle smile. Jin Guangyao nods to his partners and Wen Qing and leaves them behind, falling into step next to Lan Wangji as they approach the Fragrance Hall and, beyond it, the main staircase.

“I have your word that Wei Wuxian absolutely will not ruin this Hundred Day Celebration?” Jin Guangyao asks, but it’s hardly a question. Lan Wangji’s irritation feels like it should have some sort of barometric effect, a cooling of the atmosphere around him (actually that might be quite nice, hot as it is this time of year).

“Mn.”

“No plots, no dramatic or miraculous reveals, no political upheavals?”

“We will be retiring early.”

That’s hardly an answer but Jin Guangyao isn’t afraid to make Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji’s life a hell of petty revenge during his time in Cloud Recesses should they give him any reason at all; it’s always good for him to have a project, and archiving dry academic texts for the Lan can only hold his attention for so long.

Either way, they say nothing else as they wind their way through the few servants finishing up their final preparations and emerge into the sunshine again at the top of the stairs where, as promised, Laoling Qin is just arriving. Jin Guangyao settles into his usual spot to greet them, Lan Wangji standing just behind his shoulder as a frigid deterrent for anyone who might attempt to disrespect him in his own home.

It isn’t perfect of course — he’s long since had to accept that nothing is. But as he bows and greets and makes small talk with each sect that arrives; as he listens to his nephew’s happy shrieks from the garden nearby where he’s chasing little Wen Yuan in rambunctious circles right through the peonies; as Lan Wangji’s stony presence is replaced with Nie Mingjue’s sturdy one, and then Lan Xichen’s gentle warmth; as he heads inside to take his place at Jin Zixuan’s right hand for the celebration of his and Jiang Yanli’s second child, Jin Guangyao thinks — he hopes — that Meng Shi knows what he’s accomplished in this life, and finds it in her heart to be proud of the family he’s worked so hard to make.

|END|

[alex-multiverse]

Dumb concept for a magical girl

So, yesterday i decided to watch "The magical revolution of the reincarnated princess and the genius girl" and after realizing that anis is "a little messed up actually" i wondered, has there been any darkness themed magical girl that wasnt a villain? (Only one i kinda know is sailor saturn but i really dont know any other so please feel free to tell me if theres any non-edgy MG show with darkness as a main power going on)

SO, i decided to try to come up with something: A sailor moon-ish ripoff magical girl concept except the main girl's main powers are darkness and demon themed and shes the hero. Also totally not heavily inspired in persona 5 because i cant help myself

Note: this is all made for fun and kinda sorta goncharoved a whole ass franchise while i was at work today, enjoy

SUMMARY :D

Our protagonist is a 16 year old girl named yosuru yoruhime (because pun names are fun) who one day can turn into a magical girl by quite literally making a deal with a devil to protect her best friend from an angel-like monster. Armed with a trident, and using shadows to bind the creature, she killed the monster and saw it morph back into a girl (she was a bully shown earlier in act 1 of the episode), something something using darkness to purge corrupting light from her heart.

(shittyly made concept art of mc yosuru, drawn in paint)

were this made into a show, it would be a 24 episode season that slowly introduces the side characters, which include the other 4 members of her entourage of magical girls themed around other monsters (ie, a fire girl that is a red oni while theres also an ice girl that is a blue oni) and her bestie who ends up being manipulated into turning an angelic magical girl and ends in a gay magical girl fight a la symphogear. most of the show would be a monster of the week scenario with slow hints of the big bad group themed after the inner circles of angels, the monsters are "angelized" people who get so deluded in their self righteousness they turn into people who think are allowed to smite anyone who disagrees and can turn people into a mob that adore them. Most of the non fight part of the show would feature yosuru doing stuff like, being lazy at school, getting sent to detention, going to her friends important events and being gay with her best friend/future rival Gabrielle

(even more hastily concept art)

around episode 15 there gabrielle should be introduced as a "rival" for our group, and on the course to the end of the series it should have a "best friend girl/crush is betrothed to some anime man who is obviously evil and she has no real choice about it but she doesnt want to be there" plot. which most of the climax before their fight revolves around them in an aquarium school trip that ends with yosuru revealing her identity on accident to her and leads to the fight

something something 3 episodes before finale they fight except not really because yosuru cant harm her bestie, and ends the fight crying over her in a hug, and in the finale they join forces along with the other side girls to kill the giant monster version of the fiancee who was the true mastermind of the whole operation with a light/darkness magic combo. final scene of episode ends with a kiss during tanabata in summer, and a season 2 stinger in the post credits....

THEMING

The overall theming of the whole series is about the repression of the individual for the sake of societal order and the conflict that lies within, with yosuru being a vigilante that constantly fights monsters who want to make the world bend to their wills and how everything should work, and how we should never bow down to anyone else's desires but ours, and live our best lives with the ones we love.

also, like, magical girl yuri guys. its not that complicated

OTHER DETAILS

The gang are the typical 5 men gang, with a fiery bancho girl with a heart of gold, a sarcastic icey bookworm that is tsundere for the bancho, A straightforward thinking gun user (a la mami from madoka) and a hikikomori lightning girl who is both fascinated by the gun girl, and also dumbfounded (basically the dynamic that yusuke and futaba have in p5, but with lesbians) And of course all their names are pun names:

Yosuru yoruhime

Gabrielle hikariyama

Himeko atsui

Honsuki kanrei

Yumi ite

Kairo denki

AND for autenticity's sake, i also made them 4kidz names for funsies:

nancy nightley

gaby highgraces

Hestia Heatmore

Libra colden

Carol electra

(Yumi doesnt get one because im not smart enough to make "bow shoot" into a pun name in america)

I could come up with more stuff but i would have to come up with it first.

Anyway please enjoy the mad ramblings of a man who liked symphogear and has a fondness for the tropes of magical girl stuff

(Special thanks to @lolapinta for also enabling my brainrot a bit)

Thanks for reading

[nerves-nebula]

"I might not be in a better place but ill be gone and that's good enough"

Oh.

Like ok My buddy my friend dearest homie whom I've followed for a long time now, I need to let you know that u single handedly just ripped off several curtains off and forced my own wounds and rot to acknowledge itself. You're someone I've admired and looked up 4 a while now. You were never scared to say what was on your mind even if it was silly or uncomfortable. Maybe if I wasn't such a massive coward hiding behind the anon button id do something more than a thanks like this.

I just wanted to let you know that u matter, if not to the universe or whatever perceives us then at least to me (and I mean that in like a Benevolent Eldritch way like the Minecraft end poem or that one warm squishy YouTube comment under the eldertubbies vid with mother void)

Maybe if things weren't as they are right now, with us as forever strangers and distance keeping everything in between you could join us. Me and my merry band of lost things(<-my friends&sibs[they're silly]) Hop in our van and just fucking LEAVE. Just Ditch everything and hide in the woods and make a little village out of it. Itd probably be cold, and dirty and tiring but yk

There's not really a point I'm trying to make here. There's not much I can give to make anything feel better.

But I care. I do.

And I'm so sorry for everything that's been done, for the things that will happen and for not being able to be more human thru these screens.

I'd wrap u up in a blanket and give you soup if I could but all we have in common are sky and stars. So think of soup everytime u see them :))

I might have read that post of urs wrong itslike fucking 3:30am here and im sleep deprived af. If I did my bad just disregard this completely. If not then I hope both sides of ur pillow are cold when you sleep and u get 2 remember again why the sun is loved and why it loves back today :)

Ps I fucking love ur work very scrumptious and heart dropping it's amazing. U go homie ur on fire!!

Your time zone isn’t too far off mine, was like 4 AM when I posted that. I haven’t seen many stars in years. I know the sky is full of them but I don’t recall ever being far enough away from light that I could see it.

Idk what some of the stuff you said here means (specifically the squishy YouTube comment) but that’s aight its the VIBE and EMOTION that counts (of which you have plenty)

I’m so tired man

[narnianvalkyrieofberk]

New year, new me! ... Or at least continuing to try and build a me I like progressively more and more. Today's step? Starting to kill the part of me that fears being cringe by posting my @comicaurora self insert OCs even tho they're super self indulgent and occasionally lore-breaking (sometime because I misread/misremembered something from the lore page; sometimes because I use them in RPs and I like watching Erin lose his shit over something that makes no sense to him :P )

One of my earlier ones. Metalcaste because y'know. Wanting to be a cool metal lady like Tess. Ended up making an AU of the og version because the og version leaves Zuurith immediately after being released from prison and ended up being @nogenderonlyvoid's self insert's bodyguard. I wrote a ficlet that involved Icarus turning down Shrike's offer to take them to breakfast their first full day outside of prison, but Icarus turned her down and left Zuurith all together instead. Of course eventually I started wondering what if she took Shrike up on her offer and that's when the second version happened.

Can you tell I have a thing for wind-fire-lightning as a tri-element combo? :P

Oh hey, this one cursed out Caliban to his face. And for once we didn't do a wind-fire-lighting combo! Progress! Expanding to new horizons! :P

This one was a wind mage until I remembered that younger races don't do elemental magic. So she ended up obsessed with lacrima instead. Frequently mistaken for a freshman his entire time at the academy. Great way for me to vent my frustrations over how people responded to my baby face in college! May or may not have a starmetal dagger in their boot.

I keep doing AUs of this one. OG version was "adopted" alongside Tess and had to hide her full-leopard form because Galen was scared of it. Then did a version where The Ruunasers only knew about the leopard form and kept her as a pet until Falst enters the mix. And more recent AU has been "Snowspot" running away from the Ruunasers shortly before Tess sparks and running into Falst and chilling with him. Ruunaser twins (Erin and @nogenderonlyvoid's oc) don't find Falst's shifter buddy is Snowspot until Petrichor

Ah yes, nothing makes a possessed elemental magus trust you more than slapping a sealing cuff and ropes on him while he's passed out from fending off a primordial void dragon! In the Junior Champion's defense, they were badly injured from the battle and wanted to make sure the Void Dragon couldn't run away with his vessel while she trying to clean and bandage her wounds. Wrote a ficlet for this one that takes place shortly after he loses his status and his arm. Got to project my obsession with looking at the moon at night.

Narni Chaosbringer who I definitely did not forget to add until after initially posting :P ^^"" God of "everything fun" or "everything chaotic and destructive" depending on if you ask them or Zuurith :P Has one (1) emissary who is also an elemental magus because I reeeaaaally wanted to fuck with Erin.

[myreygn]

hey rey! i have a few different characters/ships for your ask game so feel free to choose which to do!

1. shin soukoku

2. dazai & odasaku

3. geto

4. kunikida

5. giyuu

hope you have a great day/night! (btw i’ll get cracking on your most recent request for lee geto and ler gojo 😉)

oh oh oh very interesting options! i'll see if i have something for these!

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

shin soukoku: Fever Dream (Palaye Royale)

can you see the words i'm up here trying to preach // no need to cry, you'll never find me trying to leave // i can see that you're in pain from your pale and lifeless face // so let go and float away

it just has this vibe of hey we're both tangled up in this net of lies that other people tell and wars that other people fight and maybe together we're gonna be strong enough to end all of this

dazai & odasaku: Savior II (Black Veil Brides)

and every word that came from you has carried me // so i'm trying my hardest to be what you made // like a court jester, my smile won't fade // giving it all, rising to fall to my grave // answer the call, living in thrall, you're the one born to save

is it not giving dazai right after oda's death?? just a little bit?? their relationship is so special to me actually i don't talk about them enough (also i was so close to taking loser baby from hazbin hotel i'm sorry 💀)

geto: Joan of Arc (In This Moment)

you can crucify, you can nail me to your cross (light me up, light me up) // you can find me guilty for everything you lost (light me up, light me up) // go ahead, blame me for your sins // go ahead and sacrifice me // i'll be your martyr, i'll be your joan of arc

is this a good time to tell you that i never actually watched jjk? 😭 idk if this fits i feel like it does from the little knowledge i have but you need to tell me if it makes sense i'm so sorry (also yey thank you for writing the request!!)

kunikida: Das Herz eines Drachen (Feuerschwanz)

du hast das herz eines drachen, glühend wie gold // flieg in die schlacht, so edel und stolz // du hast das herz eines drachen in deiner brust // kämpf bis zum schluss // und irgendwann wenn wir verglüh'n // halt ich es fest, weil ich es spür // dass dein starkes herz sein feuer nie verliert // denn dein drachenherz schlägt weiter, tief in mir

i feel like it's often overlooked how much the ada members admire kunikida and this feels like it fits his leader personality so well idk. i'm recommending this song a thousand times and here's a translation for you to make you consider listening to it lol:

you've got the heart of a dragon, glowing like gold // fly into battle, so noble and proud // you've got the heart of a dragon inside of your chest // fight 'til the end // and one day when we burn out // i'll hold onto it because i sense // that your strong heart will never lose its fire // and your dragon heart will keep on beating inside of me

giyuu: 99 Luftballons (Nena)

99 jahre krieg ließen keinen platz für sieger // kriegsminister gibt's nicht mehr und auch keine düsenflieger // heute zieh ich meine runden // seh die welt in trümmern liegen // hab 'n luftballon gefunden // denk an dich und lass ihn fliegen

yes it's german again my apologies and there's technically an official english version of this (99 red balloons) but honestly it's a pretty bad translation. it's a song about war being horrible and unnecessary and how we should strive for peace, the balloons being a metaphor for countries firing their weapons over every little thing, and honestly this part i put here reminds me of giyuu and sabito, or giyuu thinking about sabito post canon:

99 years of war left no room for winners // there are no more ministers of war and no more fighting jets // today i'm making my way around // i see the world lying in ruins // i have found a balloon // i think of you and let it fly