#other silver saints

[adhd-sonic-the-hedgehog]

here's this part on it's own [from this]

[bratzboykai]

@/other lapsed Catholics who were obsessed with saints and collecting saint medallions make some noise!!!!

[sunderwight]

Demon Saint Shen Yuan.

Luo Binghe had never been relieved to see his shizun suddenly arrive into a situation, but there was a first time for anything. And a bloodthirsty demon invasion was the kind of situation where anyone would want to have an immortal master turn up, even one as intimidating and unfriendly as Shen Qingqiu.

The demons had arrived some hours ago. Luo Binghe himself had only become aware of the situation recently, as panic spread and he and Ning-shijie were caught up in the chaos. He hadn't even been sure that it was a demon invasion, or what that might entail, until he found himself running for his life from a group of horrifying inhuman figures in mismatched armor, wielding fearsome weapons and clashing with the senior Qiong Ding disciples.

Ning-shijie had pulled him to the main pavilion, but that ended up being the central point of the troubles. A nymph-like demoness, who didn't look as though she could be much older than they themselves were, imperiously ordered the other demon warriors to claim Qiong Ding's sign and to beat up any cultivators they came across. She was dressed more scandalously than Luo Binghe had seen anyone dress before in his life. Not even the ladies who stood outside the Warm Red Pavilion had worn so little, her figure barely obscured by scraps of crimson silk and bits of silver jewellery.

To the right of her, there stood a boy who seemed even younger. He was dressed in red as well, but his clothes at least did more to cover him, particularly the large and hooded cloak he wore. The two demons looked very similar, surely close relatives, but where the demoness kept calling out orders and making a display of being in charge, the demon boy was quiet. His pale gaze cut through the crowd and then seemed to land on Luo Binghe. There was such intensity to it, it was almost as if he had been looking for him.

A chill went down Luo Binghe's spine. He wondered if that demon boy would attack him. Why else would a demon be looking for someone like him, except as easy pickings?

Before he could find out, however, Shen Qingqiu descended into the chaos like a gift from the heavens.

Luo Binghe wasn't alone in his relief. Even though his shizun looked deathly pale and murderously enraged, almost everyone seemed to be in a mood to praise his arrival with thanks and cheers. Finally, a peak lord had come! Even the demons had to sit up and take notice of that.

The young demoness came forwards, an assessing glint in her eyes as she looked Shen Qingqiu up and down. The other demons fell into step behind her. Well, sort of? Looking at the motley collection of warriors, Luo Binghe didn't really think they were capable of the sort of orderly formations that human soldiers used. There didn't seem to be any two of them the same size or shape, there was of course no uniform, and there was an atmosphere which implied that even though the little demoness was in charge of them, this was a situation that could change at any given moment.

Despite his fear, Luo Binghe was somewhat curious about the demons. He had heard a lot about such beings, but even at his age he knew that reputation and rumor were not always to be trusted. The demon race was a mystery to him. So these were the people that the righteous world deemed beyond redemption?

As the demoness put forward a challenge to Shen Qingqiu, Luo Binghe's gaze drifted towards the boy with her.

He couldn't help it. For some reason, that demon boy had not stopped staring at him even once! He had only just glanced at Shen Qingqiu, and then gone right back to looking at Luo Binghe! When Luo Binghe met his gaze, he finally did look away, but again only for a moment. Then it was back to staring, then looking away again, and then staring again. What could possibly be so interesting about Luo Binghe, out of all the people around?

The pattern only ended when Shen Qingqiu moved forward, and Binghe was jolted from his concerns by the realization that his shizun was going to fight.

Despite his master's harsh way with him, he was excited. He had never yet seen his shizun fight, and only knew his prowess by implication and reputation. A one-armed demon came forward to be his challenger. Shen Qingqiu did not wait to even exchange the usual courtesies, instead he moved at once, drawing forth Xiu Ya and sending his sword glint to carve through the air. When the one-armed demon dodged, Shen Qingqiu called up a cloud of dust and hit him directly in the face with it.

Luo Binghe blinked in surprise.

These kinds of tactics... weren't they a little... underhanded? Who was the demon and who was the righteous cultivator?

He probably should not judge. He knew that conventional wisdom held that demons were not truly 'people', and a demonic beast should be promptly dispatched. But the demons here spoke, and looked mostly human, and this match had been agreed to, even if under heavy duress. In a way it wasn't unlike a duel between cultivators. So why was his shizun fighting so dirty?

Regard for his master slipped further. Luo Binghe had been attempting to hold onto it, but he was increasingly convinced that it wasn't worth the effort. Even fighting an opponent who had only one arm, Shen Qingqiu was pressing every advantage he had and then some.

The outcome was lackluster and predictable, though the demoness still looked very displeased as her subordinate was killed. Demons probably weren't as concerned about dirty tactics as righteous cultivators, though, so she only announced that the next match would be against her.

Shen Qingqiu called for volunteers. The demon boy glanced at his senior, then looked out towards the group. His gaze lingered on the Xian Shu peak disciples just a few seconds before Liu Mingyan came forward to answer Shen Qingqiu's call.

Luo Binghe frowned.

Was it a coincidence, or did this demon boy have some kind of clairvoyance?

If so, what did all of his staring at Luo Binghe imply...?

But, no, it couldn't mean anything. Luo Binghe was nothing and nobody, after all. He didn't even have a spiritual weapon, and hadn't received any martial training yet. At this rate he would be lucky if he wasn't kicked off of the peak, and he knew it just as well as everyone else did. Liu Mingyan was just a bit older than him, but the differences between their abilities were like night and day. Luo Binghe was so behind that he could scarcely even comprehend her fight with the demoness. It didn't even seem like they were fighting to him, not really, but Ming Fan seemed to understand it and enthused about it to everyone nearby, and Shen Qingqiu only watched with narrow eyes until finally, it seemed, the disciple from Xian Shu lost.

Luo Binghe tried not to wince. That meant they were one to one, and there were no other peak lords or head disciples present to fight the next match. He glanced around, wondering which of the senior disciples might do. There were a few from Qiong Ding, and some elders from Zui Xian...

The feeling of eyes on him drew his attention back across the pavilion.

That demon boy was staring at him again. Even more unexpectedly, so was his shizun. He felt all the hairs go up on the back of his neck as Shen Qingqiu called out:

"Luo Binghe. Come forward."

His feet rooted him to the spot in genuine shock. That couldn't mean what he thought it did, could it? Why was his shizun calling for him? By name, no less? He couldn't mean for Luo Binghe to fight, could he? He'd lose his match and end up as a meal for demons! He didn’t even have a sword!

Shen Qingqiu stared at him, fierce and more terrifying than any of the demons so far, and before he could consider running away, self-preservation instincts compelled Luo Binghe to go over and bow in acknowledgement.

"Shizun," he said, trying not to shake.

Shen Qingqiu sneered at him.

"Since certain parties have insisted that you have some talent, let's put it to the test. My personal disciple shall go and handle the next match."

Oh.

So.

Shen Qingqiu wanted him dead, then?

At once, Ning-shijie raised her voice in protest. But she petered out as Shen Qingqiu shot her the kind of cutting, quelling look he almost never used on her. Even Ming Fan and some of the other Qing Jing disciples shifted uncomfortably. But to intervene, they'd have to volunteer in Luo Binghe's stead, and none of them would do that. He hadn't managed to endear himself to any of them, so of course they wouldn't stick their necks out for his sake.

"Shizun..." he tried, falteringly. He would die, but also, the sect would lose face. Shen Qingqiu couldn't really mean for that, could he? Maybe he expected Luo Binghe to run away, to leave and rid him of an incompetent student for good, but how could Luo Binghe do such a thing? He had nowhere else to go.

Shen Qingqiu glared impatiently at him.

"Is this the next champion?" the demoness asked, and laughed. "I'd feel too bad siccing one of our elders on the little creature. Hey, Didi! You fight him!"

The demon boy next to her shot her a startled look. It made him seem surprisingly human, even though the slight parting of his lips revealed a sharp set of cute little fangs.

"Me?" he asked, incredulous.

The demoness smirked.

"You don't want to? What, are you afraid of that shrimpy thing? How embarrassing! Our Sha family will never recover from the disgrace!"

The boy looked like he wanted to throttle his older sister for a moment. But instead of backing down, he glanced off to the side. There was nothing there, yet he stared intently at empty space for several seconds. Then his shoulders slumped, just a bit, and he strode forwards.

Standing across from one another in the middle of the impromptu fighting ring, Luo Binghe got a better look at the mysterious demon. Either he was small for his age, or he was in fact even younger than Luo Binghe had initially guessed. He felt almost sympathetic, because the boy was a full head shorter than him and pretty scrawny. Some of the other demons around had arms and legs bigger than him. His long hair was straight and loose but for a single ornament, which was only revealed when he swept the hood of his cloak down. He was dressed in crimson from head to toe, with silver embellishments that matched his pale eyes. Long black nails sprouted from his fingertips, nearly as dark and shiny as his boots. With one hand he motioned and called to his grasp a wicked-looking spear, adorned with red tassels. At his belt were a pair of folded fans. The metal kind used as weapons, rather than the frail type which Shen Qingqiu used to hide his sneers.

After a moment, the younger boy straightened across from Luo Binghe and then, to his surprise, offered him a polite bow of acknowledgement.

"Let's get this over with," he murmured.

Luo Binghe wondered if he would have to face him bare-handed, but someone whistled from off to one side.

Liu Mingyan, to his surprise, tossed him a spare sword from somewhere. It was no spiritual weapon, but it was definitely better than nothing.

He nodded in thanks, then turned back and awkwardly returned the bow to his opponent.

The demon boy let him, and did not charge first. He twirled his spear and circled around, as if assessing Luo Binghe's threat level. I have none, Luo Binghe thought to himself, half-hysterical, but at this point he realized that every second of delay was another second he could still live. He eyed the fans cautiously, knowing just enough to know that he would have no recourse at all over ranged attacks. But the demon did not reach for them.

In the end, it was Binghe's own sense of tension that got the better of him. Just as the demon side were beginning to jeer, he settled the sword as best as he could in his hands and lunged forward.

The demon boy parried him easily. Reflexively, he'd even say. The parry left him staggering and wide open, but instead of pressing the advantage, his opponent backed off.

"Come on," he thought he heard a soft voice murmur. "Get into a proper stance. You've seen them before, you know what it looks like."

Luo Binghe blinked and hesitated, confused.

"Didi, just beat him into the ground already!" the demoness jeered.

The younger boy didn't take his eyes off of Luo Binghe, however.

"If you want me to fight, you have to put up with how I do it," he called back.

His older sister visibly sulked. Even without directly looking at her, the body language was easy to read.

"So boring," she sighed.

They were toying with him. That was it, right? He was being mocked.

Luo Binghe couldn't even blame them, not really. He didn't know what he was doing in this fight either. But he wasn't entirely without some pride. The shame of his own ineptitude made him feel hot and shaky. Swallowing, he took the mockery as advice anyway and focused on himself. He did know, at least in theory, what the Qing Jing sword stance looked like. He'd even tried copying it on his own several times. Without a word he settled his posture into his best approximation of it.

Across from him, his opponent's lips twitched upwards in a baffling hint of a smile.

Luo Binghe decided to try defensiveness again, and settled in to watch and wait.

This time, he was rewarded with an attack. The demon boy circled once more before finally lunging with his spear. The move seemed obvious, almost too slow, but still Luo Binghe struggled to counter it. The edge of the spear slashed across his arm.

The demon boy winced the same time that he did.

There was a slight delay, then another attack.

It was obvious who the better fighter was. Luo Binghe couldn't think of any reason outside of mockery for the fight to draw on, for why he wasn't just being gutted like a fish, but after a few more lunges and awkward attempts at blocking had sent rivulets of blood down his sleeves, he wasn't sure if he was grateful for it or not. His heart picked up, and he decided that his only chance was probably to try and catch his opponent off-guard.

So he switched and went on the offensive again, charging with the sword and trying everything he could think of to just land a hit.

The demon boy evaded him like it was nothing at all, but he also seemed to approve of this approach more than the other.

"That's it," his soft voice said. "If you don't know enough of swordsmanship, you'll just have to use force. You have a lot of talent. It's a shame no one's taught you properly how to use it. But the energy's there, right? Come at me again, come on, there! Like that! You're strong. You are stronger than me. You're taller as well, use it to your advantage..."

Luo Binghe swung with all his might, but at the last moment he realized the blow might actually hit, and in a flurry of panic it suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't sure he wanted it to.

He pulled back, tripped, and stumbled into the dirt. The demon boy aborted a wide swing of his own, and somehow ended with the edge of his spear just a hair's breadth from Luo Binghe's throat.

The boy's eyes widened. He paled, as if something about this horrified him.

Luo Binghe closed his own eyes and dropped his sword.

"I yield," he said. Just as Liu Mingyan had done.

"Worthless! Fight until you have won, or don't call yourself my disciple any longer!" Shen Qingqiu snapped at him.

The spear swiftly withdrew. Luo Binghe hung his head. The silence that descended was filled with strange tension. He wasn't even certain he could name everything behind it, or if he even wanted to try. There was a ringing of panic in his ears, but the chief feeling in him was resignation. He couldn't win. He'd lost his place, this home he'd tried to find in the wake of his mother's death. His chance to become a cultivator.

But there was nothing for it. At least this way, he might still walk away with his life.

"No," the demon boy said. "Keep going. You can definitely win."

Luo Binghe blinked at him, bewildered.

Somehow the gaze that met his was earnest. There really did not seem to be a trace of mockery in it, in fact. The demon boy settled the butt of his spear against the floor of the pavilion.

"Didi, what the fuck are you doing?" the demoness called. "You won, just come back over here and we'll claim our spoils!"

"Don't interfere, this matter is between us two men," the little boy called back. Then he extended an arm. A red silk ribbon fluttered out from his sleeve and kicked Luo Binghe's discarded sword into the air, caught the handle, and gently tossed it back towards him.

Luo Binghe just barely caught it.

"What are you playing at?" he asked.

The boy smiled.

"No game," he said. "I just think you can beat me. Don't you want to see if you can? You haven't even really tried."

"But I don't know how to fight..." Luo Binghe protested, unable to keep the helpless despair from his voice.

The boy shook his head.

"Of course you do. Every living thing knows how to fight when it needs to. You need to defeat me, don't you? Your life depends on it. So fight me like it does!"

The spear jerked forwards, a quick flash of gleaming, deadly metal that carved a path across Luo Binghe's cheek. The pain was almost refreshing, somehow. Like a splash of cold, clean water to the face.

Fight like his life depended on it?

But it didn't. Not really. It was clear to him that this boy, strange though he was, demon though he was, harbored no killing intent towards him. Even the demoness hadn’t killed her opponent. Only Shen Qingqiu had done so.

And yet, he wasn't wrong, was he? If Luo Binghe lost this fight, Shen Qingqiu would finally have the excuse to be rid of him. His master must have long regretted choosing him in the first place, though Luo Binghe had no idea why he had done so, or why he had so bitterly despised his every effort afterwards. Regardless, without Qing Jing Peak, what was left for Luo Binghe? He'd be back on the streets, with little hope of making any kind of future for himself. He had lived that life just long enough to know the sorts of things that happened to people like him, and to know he wanted nothing to do with it.

He had loved his mother, but he did not want to live and die the way that she had.

The spear came at him again, and this time Luo Binghe let instincts take over and dodged out of the way.

He really was fighting for his life, wasn't he?

The demon boy pressed him, and his heart beat faster. He found himself answering the moves with less thought, less concern for form or structure. Soon he was smashing his sword against the spear with sheer brute force, animal intensity. He bared his teeth, widened his stance, and listened to the little voice in the back of his head that always wanted to roar.

Though he didn't actually roar. He didn't have the breath for it. His opponent finally wasn't giving him room to hesitate, and oddly enough it seemed to be granting Luo Binghe a strange sort of advantage. The spear had reach, but it was less dangerous when Luo Binghe got in closer. Though getting struck with the shaft was still painful. Red ribbons filled his vision as the demon boy left cuts and bruises in his wake, his clothing seeming to do almost as much fighting as he himself did, and yet Luo Binghe began landing meaningful hits as well. It was like fighting a bird, he thought. A bird and a hurricane. The boy's bones seemed light enough to break, and somehow after several intense minutes of skirmishing, something did break.

His opponent let out a hiss as the blow landed heavily against his arm, and the snap sound was loud in both of their ears. The spear dropped to the ground with a clatter.

Impossibly, Luo Binghe found himself leveling the blade of his sword at the demon boy's throat. Silvery eyes looked up at him, and if he didn't know any better, he'd say that the emotion in them was relief. But that made no sense. Didn't he want to win?

Did he... not approve of this invasion, or something along those lines...?

"I yield," the boy said.

There was the barest flash of visible fear, at last. Wariness. A moment where he seemed unsure if Luo Binghe would let him. It seemed so strange, considering how honorably he'd conducted himself, but then again... why would he expect Luo Binghe to be the same? He'd just seen his master, the lauded Xiu Ya sword, fight like a depraved bandit. According to humans, the demon race were creatures without integrity. Maybe demons told the same sorts of stories about cultivators, though. Brutal creatures with no pity, no mercy, who hunted down even children like animals and spared no courtesy unless threatened into it.

Hastily, Luo Binghe lowered his sword.

He looked back towards his master, and he felt a moment of irrational hope. He had won. He had won! There was no reason for it, and yet he had!

But Shen Qingqiu didn't even look back at him. The man was already moving stiffly away, as if he couldn't even be bothered to ensure the invaders kept their word. With his back turned, any number of demons could have rushed forward to avenge their comrade's loss. Luo Binghe was aware of being both abandoned and surrounded.

When he looked back at his opponent, however, the boy only nodded and then returned to his sister. He retrieved his spear with his off hand, and was careful with the arm that had broken.

As soon as he drew close to Sha Hualing, however, she smacked him sharply across the face. Then she reached to his hair and pulled out a silver ornament, a pretty thing shaped like the demonic huadian on both of their foreheads. Tossing it down, she stomped on it with her bare foot. Even with only the soles of her small feet, the impact was strong enough to break it.

"Useless!" she hissed. "What the fuck was that?"

"It was your stupid idea anyway, I told you I didn’t want to fight," the boy muttered back.

It earned him a hiss, and another smack.

Luo Binghe didn't even realize he'd raised a hand, as if to intervene, until Sha Hualing turned her sharp gaze towards him. He hastily withdrew, unwilling to get into another fight, even if he sympathized with his enemy's treatment. It seemed neither of them would get much in the way of congratulations from their superiors.

Sha Hualing’s expression was assessing, however. As if she too had seen something in him, though Luo Binghe couldn't imagine what.

He didn't have much time to bother trying anyway. His shijie started pulling at him then, visibly anxious. They were still surrounded and outnumbered, and now they were without even the presence of a peak lord to shield them.

Luo Binghe let himself be pulled away, and was moving through the throng of remaining disciples by the time the dishonorable demon hordes finally kept their word, and left.

[abbygracerecs]

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[paarksunghoon]

Okay okay hear me out cuz I haven't stopped thinking about this. Sitting on boyfriend heeseung's lap and playing with his neck chain, giggling to yourself, telling him that you really like when he wears it. When he asks why, you shyly tell him that you imagine it dangling on your face while he's on top of you. And he loses his goddamn mind. ARGH

It’s kinda my dream for this to happen to me. bye

***

Neither you nor Heeseung are paying attention to the shitty movie playing on Netflix. You’re too preoccupied with chasing his lips and he’s too busy squeezing your hips to care that the film is halfway over.

It’s been like this for the past few minutes or so with your boyfriend, who you had been crushing on since the beginning of the year and him just a few months shy of that. It’s new, maybe only a week or so into this new relationship, but the newfound romance sparks curiosity within you.

His silver necklace has a small pendant in the middle and the chain against his skin makes him look like walking sex. Heeseung is far more experienced than you are, having gone through a phase in college where all he wanted to do was get his dick wet and make as many girls cum on his mouth, fingers, and cock before finally realizing all he wanted to do was settle down with one person.

His kisses are always so deliberate and calculated like he’s trying to prove something to you. His hands don’t wander for the fear of making you uncomfortable because he knows you aren’t as forward with your romantic past. Sex positivity and all of that; neither of you really care about how many or how little people you’ve collectively hooked up with because none of that matters when you have each other.

Still, thinking about how you paint yourself as some kind of saint makes Heeseung want to test your limits and it makes his dick jump every time he thinks about it.

The farthest you’ve gone was dry humping in his dorm room when his roommate was gone for the weekend. Again, this whole relationship is new and neither of you care to rush yourselves into it because you were friends before you became a couple. But even so, he has needs and so do you. It’s just a matter of pursuing sex when it feels right.

Heeseung feels your fingertips playing with the chain against the back of his neck. He smiles into the kiss and soothes your skin with his thumb, pulling back only slightly until his lips rest against yours.

“You like my necklace, baby?” he asks in a soft whisper, enjoying your plump lips against his. A giggle bubbles out of you and you can’t stop it. The sound reverberates against his mouth and Heeseung smiles wider, pushing his lips against yours. “What’s so funny?”

You shake your head and peck him once. “Nothing. You look pretty with it on.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Your fingers caress the metal and his skin at the same time. “I really like it when you wear it.”

“Why’s that, baby?”

“I dunno.” You lean back and look at him, shrugging your shoulders like you want to say something more but don’t. “I just do.”

“C’mon. There must be a reason.” Heeseung squeezes your hips and smiles at you lazily. He watches you bite your lip and avert his eyes. So fucking cute.

“I’m too shy to say it.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Heeseung promises, leaning forward to kiss your cheek tenderly. He waits for you to look at him and encourages you to talk to him by nodding. That heat creeps up your neck.

“I-I imagine it dangling over me sometimes.”

Heeseung’s hands freeze and grip your hips. “What do you mean?” You look behind him before he beckons you to look at him again.

“I…think about you on top of me with your necklace in my face.”

He gulps. “What are we doing?”

“Having sex.”

You say it so quietly. It’s barely a whisper but the way you say it makes you sound like being fucked is something you think about often. The gears in his head turn and he’s thinking about all of the mental images he’s conjured up in his head when he touches himself to avoid putting you on the spot whenever he gets horny.

But now it’s as if the gates are open. His mind is flooded with different scenarios but he can’t stop picturing what you’d look like underneath him, specifically with his necklace dangling over your tits as he pushes his cock into you for the first time.

“Heeseung?” you ask tentatively, afraid that you might’ve taken things too far.

Your boyfriend catches you by surprise. He bucks his already semi-hard dick up into your clothed lap and a groan emits from the back of his throat.

“Fuck.”

He scoops you up in his arms and ignores your yelp in favor of carrying you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped securely around him. Neither of you care that the TV is still on. Heeseung can only think about what you’d look like with his pendant right next to your mouth.

“I need to fuck you right now,” Heeseung moans when he places you onto the mattress and pushes his clothed dick against your core. “Need to see that right now.”

You don’t complain.

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! x

[heavenbarnes]

simon's fave past time is seeing you ride his abs and thighs ITS CANON

you can expand on it if you want

the concept of riding abs has me going fucking nutty, THANKS VERY MUCH 🫶🏼

when it comes to pleasure, to older bf!simon, it’s entirely about you. he lives to serve in every sense of the word.

serve his country, serve his task force- serve you.

to him, his very existence is an answer to you.

the question being, ‘what do you need?’

that is to say that there isn’t a part of him that we wouldn’t willingly give up to you, all you had to do was ask- really, you didn’t even have to say a word.

he was already offering himself up on a silver fucking platter.

so, for simon, there’s no place he’d rather be than under you. for him to lay back, look up at you and see you eclipsing his sun.

he likes the way the bedroom light illuminates behind you like a saint, staring down at him like he’s your worshipper (he is).

it’d been lazy, half pressed to his chest as your legs tangled with his- making out in your bed like you were back in school.

simon’s perfect day.

you’d felt it digging into your stomach, he’d been hard from the moment you’d touched lips. as was his standard, there wasn’t a lot you could do that wouldn’t get him rock solid.

tongue in his mouth, spit on your chin, your hand had been sandwiched between the two of you as you stroked it through his shorts.

maybe it was because he was about to blow a load in his undies.

maybe it was because he could feel you rutting into his thigh.

whatever it was, it had him dragging you up his body and situating you on his abs. pulling his hoodie out of the way, you could feel the firm lines of his stomach beneath you.

“g’head, use me sweet’art”

so that’s what you did.

bottoms discarded, shirt hiked up so simon could have one hand play with your chest while the other held your waist. hips desperately rolling against his abs.

every time he tensed them, stomach going rigid so you could rub yourself against him- your eyes rolled back in your head.

“look s’pretty up there, made f’me”

something about the way he felt under you, maybe even the way he was gazing up at you like you were made of stars. it had your mouth running off without your brain.

just straight from the heart.

“yours, si- all yours”

you felt his grip on you tighten, pulling you down harder onto him- practically dragging you against him to draw more of those heady moans out of you.

this was where he was meant to be.

under you, serving you, offering up every inch of himself to you. ask him? he was the happiest man alive.

didn’t matter that he’d already cum in his shorts.

didn’t matter that he was already chubbing right back up.

didn’t matter that he could go crazy feeling you rutting against his skin.

as long as you looked this happy? sounded this sweet? felt this fucking good?

“take whatever y’need”

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ava Gardner (The Killers, The Barefoot Contessa)— She's so goddamn hot. Her and Frank Sinatra could've sandwiched me and I would've thanked them for the privilege

Jean Seberg (Breathless, Saint Joan)— Some of us watched À bout de souffle as a lil French undergrad and had the trajectory of our lives changed by Jean Seberg. She IS French new wave!! She is the moment!! She sadly had to work with a lot of shitty directors in her career but even so, she has this magnetic energy whenever she’s on screen. In her personal life, she was also very supportive of civil rights causes, and was even targeted/harassed by the FBI for financially supporting the Black Panther Party.

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Ava Gardner:

Ava Gardner is one of my favorite actresses of all time. Although a lot of her roles in movies are about her being beautiful and nothing else, there are some films where her acting truly shines.

Gifset: https://www.tumblr.com/pelopides/721438308726603776/ava-gardner-as-pandora-reynolds-pandora-and-the

Gifset 2: https://www.tumblr.com/portraitoflestatonfire/731899355804598272/if-the-loustat-reunion-doesnt-look-like-this-then

HER FACE. LOOK AT IT. Also was a life long supporter of civil rights and a member of the NAACP, had lots of fun love affairs with other stars, bullfighters, married several times but was also happy in between to just have lovers and was unapologetically herself.

I literally gasp every time I see her.

Between 1942 and 1964, Ava Gardner was credited in no less 50 films, and is still considered by some to be the most beautiful actresses that ever graced the silver screen. Despite life-long insecurities regarding her talent as an actress, she weathered public scandal, industry hostility, and outright condemnation by the Catholic Church with fearless grace. She would later in life talk candidly about the reality and pain of living through two (studio approved!!) abortions during her short marriage to Frank Sinatra, and while the two of them could not make their relationship work, they remained in each other’s lives for nearly 30 years. She would forever describe herself as a small-town girl who just got lucky, but always felt like a beautiful outsider.

Really genuinely one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen. An autodidact. Had amazing chemistry with Gregory Peck to the point where I do think about watching On The Beach again sometimes because they're so good together even though that movie did destroy me. Was a great femme fatale in many movies.

Jean Seberg:

anyone who plays Joan of Arc is kind of hot by default tbh

she's gorgeous, she's cool, she has the original blond pixie cut

She donated a lot of her money to civil rights organizations such as the NAACP and the black panther party as well as Native American school groups, as a result of this the fbi ran a smear campaign against her and a surveillance campaign which is thought to have led to her suicide tragically.

idk if this is propaganda but the COINTELPRO and the FBI are widely blamed for her death. If the FBI was after her for supporting the Black Panther Party you know she was good

[valentine-cafe]

May I have a tiramisu please?

Bottom male reader perhaps meeting Alessio at a club or party and being smitten with him and decides to have a one night stand with him

Also is it ok if I am 🖍️anon? (Pronounced like craynon)

˖⁺. “ pretty party boy ! ” : 

﹙ top punkgoth mercenary x bttm male reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

 . . . verse 781 alessio x male reader !! 🍒 : ﹙ punkgoth ˖ mercenary ˖ immortal inhuman  ﹚ 

you found the flirtatious hunk at the club rather cute - and it seems like the both of you can't keep your hands off of each other. might as well head over and get into his pants, right?

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ one night stand ˖ penetrative sex ˖ fingering ˖ size difference ˖ degradation ˖ rough sex ˖ spit �� creampie ˖ alcohol consumption ˖ club scenes | wc : 1.6k

﹙ receipts ﹚: oh I had wayyy too much fun with this and yes ! welcome 🖍️<3

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Parties seemed to be his scene. Even moreso when he's got a pretty lil' thing like you grinding up on him on the dance floor. He barely knew your name but he sure as hell knew the taste of your lips. Fuck. You were fun to kiss.

He found that out especially so when you stumbled with him through the hazes of booze and bright lights. His hands were all over you from the crowd to the bar. He bought you a drink, then two. Let you pipe on about how you're so happy you can unwind after exam week. He finds out you're a student at his uni. Well ain't that convenient?

"Mechanical huh?"

"Yup! First year."

"Well if you need a tutor," his lips smile into the rim of his glass. Glossy emerald eyes flicker over in time for you giggle. Your hand shoves at his arm. Electric. Your touch, your eyes. Everything about you.

So eager too. You just slipped off of his lap after another steamy makeout. Did you even remember his name? "You offerrin' me something, 'essio?" Seems you do. He quite likes it on your tongue.

His hand falls back to your thigh, just as greedy. A calloused thumb strokes along the fabric of your pants. If he could he'd dig in here and now. You'd love the feel of his silver rings clamped round your thighs as he split your pretty little hole open. "Maybe I am. It working?"

What a charmer. His words couple with a grin and a wink. Dangerous. That's the only way to describe. But like most forbidden things, the man donned in silver and black drips with allure.

You are no saint. Indulge, why don't you?

What else were you to do? Pass up on a guy who's so evidently packing something in his ripped black jeans? No way in hell. You snatched him up the second you could. A second make-out, then a third. All the way back to your apartment.

The door shut and the next second he shows you his strength. Wraps large hands round your thighs and hoists you up. Shoves you back into the wall just as his tongue does your mouth. Chills wash over you as a silver piercing graces your pink muscle so graciously. How friendly.

Alessio's far from a patient man. He'll tongue kiss you breathless all while stripping haphazardly at your clothes. Chuckle when you whine and buck at the hand that had just been pre-occupying itself with your pleasure. Another cute thing — your dick in his palm. Especially how it squirts and twitches all over.

"Pobrecito," his tongue clicks beside your ear. His hand returns to your hard cock and squeezes at the head once - twice - as he drops you down into your sheets. Handling you and your furniture as if he owned the damn place. "Too greedy for a man you just met? Or are ya just that pent up?"

The jerky motion of his palm is cruel. You hiccup and he makes sure to kiss on your adam's apple while you grind into the calloused feel. "Please," you quiver. "Please - please please."

Warmth withdraws, you nearly whine and reach for his hair to cling. "Oh baby I haven't even stretched you out yet." Spit streaks your hole, he's got good aim. You can't really appreciate it as his words run rampant through your mind.

Stretch you out? "I can take it - jus' need some lube. I'm not a virgin." So proudly you say it and yet - the shadow of emerald peering down at you renders you nearly timid. He chuckles, deep and dark as his thumb flicks across your tip.

"Aww that's cute."

His free hand circles fingers at your rim. The centre of his brows crease and knit upwards as he croons while you throb around his slowly inching fingers. "That so? Please." Another snicker. Cocky bastard. But maybe he's right, with the way two fingers stuff you up you're suddenly reconsidering what he might be hiding down there.

He'll stretch you out on his fingers more than once. It's slow for the first round. You wonder if that's what he prefers — but the second has you jerking, crying as he fucks his fingers in till the knuckle. So effortless too. Like he's done this multiple times before.

Seems like it. The way he croons and cooes at you tells you he's said these words before. The way he so expertly know where to curl his criminally long and thick fingers only motivates the fact. He'd get you off twice like that. Lean down and kiss your sticky tip so messily before he finally backs off.

What the fuck. Oh that's more than you could have ever imagined. His fat cockhead slaps back into him. Tall and proud with throbs at his tip to match. And that vein that pulses on the underside? You lick your lips to restrain the urge to swoop down and suckle on it. Not that he'd give you a chance with the snatch to your thighs that yanks you to the end of the bed, his cock rests atop your thigh. Fuck — it's heavy too.

He asks if you're ready. What a gentleman. As if he wasn't making you cream on his fingers just a second ago. Caresses your sides and positions. He even made sure to jerk you off a bit while he pushed in. Maybe he's addicted to your pleasure.

Pop! The tip alone has you straining. You squeeze out lube he drizzled all over combined with his saliva. What's Alessio doing? Grinning. As he splits you open on his cock and grips your waist when you try to squirm. Yanks you back down on his dick so that your ass is spread wide as he jams between your legs.

"This the same cock you said you could take hermoso?"

Skin slaps wet and rapid. Plap plap plap! His balls smack against your ass. Strong hands yank you down on every plough of his cock. You're drooling. Loopy. Head limped into the sheets and hands barely gripping anymore.

A mess of your cum stains your thighs and splatters your tummy. Runs down your poor abused ass to mix with Alessio's seed. He's pumped you full who-knows how many times.

And he's still going.

Your dick squirts more when he grabs it with his free hand that's not got your thigh hunched over his muscled shoulder in a tight slot. "Answer me pretty boy." Even his hiss drips with sex appeal.

You try to nod. Try to speak. How can you when he starts bullying a gummy spot so deep inside. Knocking so roughly. Sloshing up your heat with sprays of more cum. How isn't he stopping?

"C-Can - can take it - can take - hngh - 'e-essiiioooooo I can't takkeee iiitttt."

With a shaky hand you pathetically clamp on his bicep. You want him close. And he's so gracious for a man you just met. He drops his weight and squishes you in half. Pours kisses down your neck as he slams all the way. Throbs a few times. Then shallowly fucks you through another orgasm.

You search for his lips. Messy. Just like the kiss he wretches your jaw into. Oh how he suffocates you. How he pumps you full and has your smaller body creaming all over him.

"Tha's what I thought. Yeah. Fucking whore thought he could take me first try huh?" He keeps a grip tight around your jaw when he parts from your lips. Saliva is the only connecting. Strings of slick just like down below where your tight ass spurts messes of cum again and again.

"Right baby? You can take it. Not a virgin after all - fuckk - so take it!"

Another slam. Your body jerks on the bed. You tear nails down his back and sniffle out a sob as you spray his toned abdomen again. The knot in your tummy is tight. Legs tremble on his shoulders. "Please - pleasepleasee-ease-easseeee"

How pathetic. All Alessio can do is chuckle along the crook of your neck as he paints hickies in return of your cum that decorates him.

He thought you were cute at the party alone. But you're fucking adorable when you struggle to take his cock.

  Despite the roughness he'll pepper soft kisses all over your face once it's over. Hoist you up into his big arms and carry you to the bathroom. How the hell isn't he spent? You can barely see straight!

You'd be in and out of consciousness but he'll make sure to clean you up. Get you nice and comfortable in your bed before slotting in beside you.

You're surprised to see he's still there in the morning. In your kitchen - making you food? "An apology for wrecking your ass." He jokes. You could get used to this. . . but it's just a one night stand, right? You're reminded of that once he's out the door.

Well. Until later that night when your phone pings. When did you give him your number??

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[lis-likes-fics]

Just a Drink

Pairing(s): Tommy Shelby x bartendere!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words Prompt: Semi-Public/Public Sex Warnings: NSFW, smut, swearing, alcohol use, smoking, semi-public/public sex, caught, brief fingering, creampie... A/N: This made giggle and hot at the same time, lol. Enjoy and happy reading!

“Are we celebrating, drowning sorrows, or just drinking tonight, Tommy?”

You set the bottle on the counter, leaning against the bar as you await Tommy's answer. He sits at a stool, a cigarette between his lips and his eyes generally uninterested as he stares off.

The bar is mostly empty. Harry has already gone home for the night—you man the bar so often that the patrons know you and know not to give you any trouble. If anyone comes in looking for trouble, you send them on their way with a gun as a warning. If you ever need to pull the trigger, you've got the Peaky Blinders to clean up the mess for you.

There are two other men sitting around, holding their glasses in their palms and looking about ready to throw in the towel. Neither of you pay them any attention. They don't matter.

“Just drinking,” he sighs.

You hum, grabbing a glass and pouring his fill. “Thought so.” You pass it over, crossing your arms over the bar as you lean in. “You don't look sullen enough for drowning, and your brothers would be here if you were celebrating.”

He hums, taking a sip from his cup. “Aye,” he flicks the ashes from his cigarette. “Sounds about right…”

You smile, pouring your own glass. “Then you won't mind if I have a drink of my own.” You've already taken a sip before he can answer.

“Not at all,” he murmurs. He finally looks up at you with more thought than he had before. Tommy Shelby's always got a million things on his mind. If you take a few moments to come to the front of it, you will gladly wait your turn. He's saved your arse enough to earn the time.

You wait a moment before speaking, gaging the look in his eyes with another hum. “You've been busy,” you say. “This is the first sit-down you've had with me in…a few days?”

“Aye,” he says again. He brings his cup to his lips, his brows drawn like he's still thinking about things. “Have you missed me, luv?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Believe it or not, you're good company, Mr. Shelby.” You trace the rim of your glass with your lip, looking at him over the top before sipping once more.

A tiny smirk graces his lips as he takes in the look on your face. “Not just company, I assume…” He takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing it out as the smoke billows around his head. “Have I been that busy?”

You shrug again, looking back down at your glass to trace the top again, this time with the tip of your finger. “You know no one else treats me quite as right as you.”

You don't pay any mind to the scoot of a chair from somewhere in the pub. One of the two customers still left behind stands to take his leave, shrugging on his coat and letting his cap follow as he leaves a coin behind. The last man decides to follow suit, leaving you and Tommy alone.

“S’that so?” You pluck his cigarette from between his fingers as he speaks. “Must be a fuckin’ saint.”

Smoke puffs out of your mouth with your snicker, and you shake your head as your smirk curls around the silver air. “You are no saint, Tommy Shelby.”

He nods, accepting that with his own silent chuckle. “At least nothing’s changed then.”

You lean over the counter, swaying your hips lightly. The cigarette ghosts over your bottom lip as you bat your lashes at him. “So are you going to keep me waiting, or shall I drop my knickers now?”

You blow smoke from your lips and watch it curl around his face. He doesn't even flinch, staring back at you with eyes steadily filling with a veil of lust. They glance down at your cleavage, so expertly placed for his sneaking eyes.

He lingers for a moment, another hum slipping through as he grabs his glass again. “I'm going to finish this…” he takes another small sip, plucking his cigarette back from your fingers, “and then I'm going to fuck you.”

It's a fair deal. You nod, grabbing a rag to start wiping down the bar, retrieving the coins left behind on the unoccupied tables to place in your apron.

By the time you're finished, Tommy's finishing off his last sip and standing from his stool. You wander back behind the bar, grabbing both your glasses to clean them out. You don't look at him as he follows after you, lighting a new cigarette as he goes.

His hand settles on your waist, and you smile as you continue wiping down the bar. He catches you by surprise, pressing his palm to your back and pushing you down against the counter top. You grunt, clutching the rag in your hand as he lifts your skirts all the way up and over the curve of your hips.

Tommy shoves your undergarments down as he gropes one of your cheeks in his palm. He hums appreciatively, taking no time in teasing you. He just shoves two thick fingers between your folds, which are becoming wetter and wetter by the second.

You bite your lip to stifle the moan stuck in your throat. He works them into you, curling his fingers so much that your knees buckle under the pleasure. The hand on your waist lifts up just to slap down harshly against your warm skin. You nearly cry out at the sudden movement as you feel the sharp sting spreading over the expanse of your tingling flesh.

His fingers pull out of you, slipping forward to cup your cunt and wet his hand. They brush against your clit, and your hips nearly jerk backwards against him. “Has it been that long, luv?” he hums.

“It's your own fault, though I'm sure you're quite proud of it,” you huff, your eyes closed as your body keens against his touch, worse when he circles your clit in quick but light movements that would never allow an actual orgasm. Your voice shakes. “You ruined me, Tommy. Can't get this from anyone else.”

He smirks, though you can only hear it with the way he's got you bent over. He pulls his hands from you, and you yelp when he smacks your pussy, clenching around air and wishing it was him.

“I'm terribly sorry,” he lies, and you hear the dizzying sound of his belt clinking.

“You're not.”

Tommy chuckles airily. “I'm not.” He frees his cock with a stroking hand, and you try not to grind back against him in such a needy way as you anticipate the coming of his desire.

He fills you a moment later, thrusting his cock inside of you with a deep grunt as he bottoms out. You let out a heavy sigh, stifling the moan at the tip of your tongue as he presses against the deepest part of you.

Tommy holds his cigarette between his lips as he brings one strong hand to your hip and the other to wrap around your throat. You hum, letting him pull your head back as he begins to thrust into you with rough, quick snaps of his hips. Once he finds a steady pace, he lets go of your throat in favor of pinching his smoke between his fingers.

“You feel better now that your cunt’s nice and full, darling?” he taunts, pulling smoke into his lungs in a deep breath. It billows from his nose as he huffs on a harsh thrust.

You struggle to contain your moans, stuck on the pleasure wrapping around your throat and filling your body until your legs are weak. “Yeah,” you gasp, holding onto the edge of the counter for support. “Don’t stop, Tommy.”

“Now why would I go and do that, eh?” he hums, smacking your arse again before pressing down on the small of your back. Your body buzzes with pleasure, and you can feel it nipping at your heels and at your fingertips. Your breaths and the sound of his hips smacking into you fill the air, occasionally accompanied by a stray moan or grunt.

Your head turns when you hear the sound of the pub doors opening, a dramatic motion that could only come from one breed of man—a Shelby.

Arthur walks in with a strut that you find relatively unnecessary, worse when his eyes land on the two of you and a sly grin spreads over his lips. “I see you’re a bit too busy to pour me a drink, luv,” he quips, his cigarette dangling between his lips as he speaks.

Tommy’s movements don’t stop—it’s not like this is the first time one of his brothers have walked in on the both of you. You were once tending to him beneath his desk, and he didn’t even care to pretend to shield you from his brother’s gaze, encouraging you to keep going as he talked about business or something of the sort. You don’t remember much, you were a bit preoccupied with the way he tasted on your tongue to listen in.

Tommy thrusts harder into you, your moans catching in your throat with a shudder that sounds as though you might cry. “Aye,” he huffs. “What is it you want, Arthur?” His hair is falling over his forehead. He doesn’t even look at his brother as his eyes stay trained on you and the way his cock keeps disappearing into your tight cunt.

“Just a drink, as I said,” he shrugs, strutting forward and stepping behind the pub. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over the counter and burying your head as you focus on the overwhelming pleasure.

“You can h-have whatever you bloody want, Arthur,” you huff, a few whimpers slipping into your words as you speak.

He laughs, that deep, wheezing sound that means he’s enjoying himself as he looks around the shelves for his choice of liquor. He grabs a bottle of whiskey, clutching it in his hands before doing a little spin in search of something. “Where the bloody hell are the glasses?”

“You don’t n-need a fucking glass,” you gasp. A small cry takes you by surprise when Tommy brings you back hard on his cock in time with a rough thrust.

“Course, I do,” he says, entirely unfazed as he looks down at you. You turn your head in your arms to see him, a glare in your eyes only partially tinted with amusement at his antics. Arthur smacks his chest, puffing it out to look big as he watches you. “What do you think I am? A fuckin’ animal?” Tommy rolls his eyes. “No, a fuckin’ gentleman is what I am, and a fuckin’ gentleman don’t drink straight from the bottle. Isn’t that right, Tommy?”

You reach beneath the counter, clumsily grabbing a glass and shoving it out toward him. Tommy motions to it with his cigarette. “There you are, Arthur. Now take your glass there and go fuck off. As you can see, we’re both a bit busy right now.” He takes a drag from his cigarette and lets the smoke surround his head as he turns back to you. “Would you hold this for me, darling?”

He hands you his smoke, and you take it and set it between your lips gratefully. A moan catches in your throat when he free hands wraps around your waist, just to press a callused finger against your needy clit. Smoke puffs quickly from your mouth in a flurry.

You’d almost forgotten Arthur was there until the sound of the bar door slamming back down catches your attention. “Alright, alright,” he smiles, glass and bottle in one hand, cigarette in the other. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

“Apparently,” a moan cuts you off, “not well enough.” He lets out another thundering laugh as he walks away, leaving the two of you be. Just in time too, because you feel like you will fall apart any minute now. “Tom, I’m so close.”

“I know, luv,” he grunts. “Just have another smoke, eh?”

You do as you’re told, bringing it to your lips and letting it feed into your system as you become looser and looser. Your head swarms with all the pleasure around you, and you’re finding it harder and harder to hold it together.

“That’s it,” he coos, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy and erratic as he nears his own release. His grip on your hip tightens, his circling finger on your clit intends to drive you mad.

Your thighs begin to twitch, the shocks of a coming release shooting off in your veins. It's only when his thrusts become short and deep and rough, that you're sent over the edge with a cry that you struggle to muffle behind pursed lips. You drop your head into your arms, pressing your mouth against your forearm in an effort to conceal an unconcealable sound.

Waves of pleasure crash down on you, dizzying you, filling you until you feel like you can no longer stand. Tommy's hand on your waist is the only thing keeping you up.

As your cunt flutters and clenches around him, his name crying into your arm, he feels his fuse running out. With a few final, untempered thrusts, he spills inside of you with a quiet gasp, his grunt rough in his throat. “Fuck, that's it,” he huffs, still shoving his cock inside of you to finish off the last of his release. “Take it all, darling. There you are.”

Your legs quiver beneath you, weak under the warmth spreading through you and the last sensations of your orgasm seeping into the fabric of your bones and your veins until you're nothing but a distant buzz.

You curse under your breath when your brain settles, and you feel like you can think straight again. Tommy pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants with a hum. “How are you now, luv?”

You nod, catching your breath as you stand up straight. You take a long breath of smoke into your lungs, stretching your arms over your head and sighing it all out as you feel the relief of the popping in your back.

Smoke curls around Tommy's face, and he doesn't even flinch. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in and taking his cigarette back. He kisses you, long and possessive but satisfied with the release of the tension in his body.

“Really fuckin’ good,” you breathe once he pulls away.

He nods. “Good.” He kisses you again, watching you bend down to pull your undergarments back up your thighs and smooth out your dress.

“Don't make me wait so long next time,” you smirk, pulling him in by his tie. Your noses brush, teasing one another before finally giving in to a third kiss. You try not to get carried away. You still have to properly close the pub before you end up in Tommy Shelby's bed once more.

“My apologies.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyisms @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89 @motopoppp @mrkdvidal1989 @thegen3sisark @niktwazny303 @feyresqueen @lovelylilbadone @electraphyng @carolina-angel @xsweetcatastrophe Tag yourself here...

[fairsweetlonging]

Okay but Mocking bird demon SY (has shapeshifting powers) pretending to be SQQ to help LBH. No system, SJ lives, just SY will not let his protagonist be miserable. He optionally also wife beams LQG who is extremely confused and horny as to why SQQ is playing hot and cold with him

i LOVE that idea oh my goodneeees!!! all the shen yuan bird aus are a GIFT that keeps on GIVING!!

as a bird he can easily live on mount cang qiong and get around unnoticed, because what peak lord or disciple is going to look twice at a small, grey silver bird? it allows him to stay close to luo binghe and help him in every way he can, from giving him food he carries in his little talons or beak, singing to him when he's down, keeping him company in the forest, to making silly mimic sounds to make him laugh.

i looked up a little about mockingbirds and apparently they're extremely territorial when raising hatchlings and their nest (attacking even cats, hawks and humans), which is perfect because luo binghe is (definitely!) a helpless hatchling in need of protecting, i mean, technically his wings haven't even properly grown in yet, he can't fly! so cue ming fang and other bullies getting relentlessly attacked when they try to come near binghe.

and then the shapeshifting: from what i've gathered, mockingbirds sing regularely at night, so i can imagine shen yuan waiting until nightfall and shen jiu goes to bed when he makes his move. he dons the master's form, goes to the woodshed, and takes binghe out to train in the forest with a real manual. of course, binghe is immediately enamoured with the man shen qingqiu becomes when night falls, maybe he even starts to think it's a "werewolf" thing where he changes when the moon comes up, because there isn't really any explanation to why the soft words, gentle touches and kind eyes turn into sneers, violence and glares as soon as the sun is up!

bc he does have the protagonist halo, and even in canon binghe knew something was up, i think he figures it out eventually when he starts alluding to certain events that never happened but that his "shizun" plays along with. also the bird has the exact same way of petting his head/ruffling his hair as his night-shizun does. one and one equals two, after all.

and liu qingge yeeeessss!! if in this au shen yuan saved him in the caves as well, he's probably getting such a headache from the complete 180s shen qingqiu keeps making!! one moment everything is great, shen qingqiu is tending to his wounds with such gentleness and a kind smile, and when liu qingge runs into him at night (when shen qingqiu always looks kind of... hurried, for some reason, almost a little nervous), they share a smile and a laugh and one time shen qingqiu even hugged him; but then when liu qingge tries to sit next to him at the meetings suddenly he's getting snarled at, called a dumb dirty beast and to sit elsewhere?? hello??? never mind getting invited into the bamboo house, or shen qingqiu accepting his (dead animal) gifts.

i also think it'd be so really funny if shen yuan ended up not caring about continuation errors or consistent character behavior, and just goes all out on the OCC by being kind to everyone in shen qingqiu's form; flirting with liu qingge, cuddling with yue qingyuan, spoiling luo binghe rotten, gifting mu qingfang all kinds of rare herbs that he can find easily in his demon bird form, and generally being a moon-saint that everyone comes to realize isn't actually shen qingqiu, but since he's doing good for the community and not harming anyone, they kind of just..... leave it. the peak lords have a meeting about it (sans shen jiu of course), and they decide the night-qingqiu can stay.

tho i do think yue qingyuan would ask shen yuan to don a different form.

also also, shen yuan getting up to all kinds of mischief by mimicking other peak lords' voices: calling to disciples with their shizun's voice, watching them get all confused because no one's there?? or making shang qinghua go around in circles because he keeps saying "this way, shang qinghua, hurry up!" in an angry liu qingge voice. and also making shen jiu open the door to no one when he mimics yue qingyuan's voice. there's a LOT he can do with it🤭

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn. 

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint. 

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot. 

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world. 

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else. 

Except for me. 

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too. 

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other. 

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet. 

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance. 

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift. 

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice. 

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms. 

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.” 

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city. 

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you. 

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library. 

“They’re in love.” 

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths. 

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.” 

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all. 

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper. 

“For the miss.” 

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads. 

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—” 

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.” 

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed. 

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?” 

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable. 

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.” 

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding. 

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family. 

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple. 

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.” 

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.” 

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall. 

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.” 

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell. 

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous. 

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in. 

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s. 

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that. 

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.  

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring. 

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx? 

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more. 

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch. 

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine. 

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling. 

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat. 

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle. 

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes. 

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.” 

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head. 

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.” 

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear. 

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.” 

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders. 

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.” 

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.” 

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty. 

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?” 

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!” 

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw. 

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers. 

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek. 

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive. 

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief. 

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering. 

He wasn’t the one you wanted. 

“AZRIEL!” 

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless. 

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!” 

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—” 

“Are you hurt? What’s—” 

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” 

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed. 

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you. 

“Az.” 

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you? 

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood. 

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun. 

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian. 

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck. 

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you. 

Panic seized your soul. 

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face. 

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.  

You did feel it when he broke your wrist. 

When he forced the book from your grasp. 

And then stabbed you in the stomach. 

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides. 

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.  

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned. 

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place. 

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW! 

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”  

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body. 

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.” 

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.” 

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose. 

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street. 

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master. 

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot. 

She was Nesta fucking Archeron. 

Lady Death. 

Queen of Queens. 

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled. 

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings. 

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes. 

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops. 

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.” 

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do. 

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness. 

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised. 

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones. 

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to. 

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery. 

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what…. 

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain. 

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror. 

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!” 

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.” 

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach. 

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together. 

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight. 

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic. 

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.” 

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice. 

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time. 

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all. 

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.” 

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears. 

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness. 

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved. 

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him. 

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.” 

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head. 

“I know.” 

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—” 

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.” 

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.” 

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it. 

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.” 

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.” 

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.” 

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.” 

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers. 

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it. 

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable. 

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power. 

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth. 

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise. 

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

[ltwilliammowett]

A Victorian silver and agate brooch in the shape of a sailor's cross, mid-19th century.

The sailor's cross has its origins in early Christianity and is also known as the sailor's cross or St Clement's cross, in reference to the way he was supposedly martyred - tied to an anchor and thrown from a boat into the Black Sea. Despite this tradition about his untimely end at sea, Clement is considered a patron saint of sailors and many wear his cross for protection. The brooches, on the other hand, were often given to loved ones who had stayed at home as a symbol of hope, happiness and return.

[thecoiledserpent]

BASICS OF ASTROLOGY + FINDING THE DOMINANT PLANET

(APPLICABLE TO VEDIC CHARTS ONLY / APPLY AT WESTERN CHART AT YOUR OWN ACCORD, I DO NOT GUARANTEE ACCURATE RESUTLS)

in vedic astrology, we consider the traditional planets—sun, moon, mercury, venus, mars, jupiter and saturn along with the nodes—north and south node to be the significant placements of a chart. we do not consider the outer planets, i.e. neptune, uranus and pluto as significant placements in a person's chart. this is because these are generational planets that remain in the same position for almost a human's entire life and do not influence a person's personality in any major way because generations of people are going to have the same particular placement.

following are a few important points about the planets you will need to properly analyze your vedic chart:

THE SUN / SURYA is your driving force, your life, your soul. it represents your ego. just as no life can exist on earth without the sun, no human can survive without an ego. even saints are driven towards moksha, or liberation. with a weak sun, a person will struggle with having a proper identity and will be unable to distinguish reality from illusions.

the sun is a 'sattvic'/ pure planet. in elements, it is fire. in gods, he is ravi / surya / the sun god & agni / the god of fire. in the zodiac, it is leo. in society, it is the king / ruler / president. in colors, it is red. in gems, it is ruby. in metals, it is copper. in the days, it is sunday / 'ravivaar'. in the body, it is bones ( particularly the spine ), the heart, stomach and the right eye. in items, it is saffron. in chants, it is HREEM.

your father represents your sun. bad relationship with father = bad sun, and vice versa.

the sun is sensitive to malefic planets, although it is generally susceptible to energies, as well.

the presence of rahu / ketu will irrevocably damage the sun. it forms an eclipse, leaving negative impact on the natives life and personality.

the house which your sun rules will be a house with a strong impact on your life purpose, regardless of other factors.

strong sun in good dignity = good eyesight, pleasant demeanour, good confidence, attractive aura, authoritative qualities, able to take a stand, comfortable in solitude.

strong sun in bad dignity = overconfidence, stubbornness, disregard towards other people, dictator like behavior, weak heart.

weak sun = weak eyes / higher susceptibility to eye problems, low confidence, lack of strong opinions, damaged relationship with father, lack of groundedness in reality.

THE MOON / SOMA / CHANDRA is your mind. quite literally. our brain is protected by cerebrospinal fluids and all fluids are under the domain of the moon, hence directly affecting your brain. the moon is the most important planet in the vedic chart. this is because so long as we are human, we are driven by our mind. although the soul (the sun) is the ultimate truth, as flesh and blood we cannot connect with our soul. our mind is what drives us in the mortal realm; the soul takes the backseat. the moon sign / nakshatra depending upon context, just as the sun in tropical astrology, is going to be what we're referring to when mentioning 'rashi' / sign.

the moon is a 'sattvic'/ pure planet and sits in the company of the sun, mars and jupiter. in elements, it is water. in gods, he is soma / chandra / the moon god. in the zodiac, it is cancer. in society, it is the queen / healer ( not alleopathic medical practicers or surgeons. only ayurveda practicers / psychiatrists / therapists). in colors, it is white and pale blue. in gems, it is pearl. in metals, it is silver. in the days, it is monday / 'somvaar'. in the body, it is the brain, fluid matter, and the womb. in items, it is food / nourishment. in chants, it is SHREEM.

your mother represents your sun. bad relationship with mother = bad moon, and vice versa.

it is noteworthy to mention that the correlation here is the strongest of all other planetary associations. if you hurt your mother, neglect her, disrespect her or abandon her, no matter however might her behavior towards you be, your moon will be completely destroyed. even if you have a bad relationship with father you can still fix your sun, but there's no way you can fix your moon if you have a bad relationship with your mother.

the moon is sensitive to malefic planets, although it is generally susceptible to energies, as well.

the presence of rahu / ketu will irrevocably damage the moon. it forms an eclipse, leaving negative impact on the natives life and personality.

aspects to / from / with the moon are case specific and i will not generalize anything. although, in general -

weak moon = mood swings, emotional turbulence, mental problems, weak aura, lack of appeal.

strong moon = good focus, strongly opinionated, has mother's support, will have more traits from their mother's ancestral house.

MERCURY / BUDDHA is your intelligence, your speech, your mental capacity. note that where the moon rules over mental stability and the physical brain tself, mercury rules purely over your intelligence, the abstract part of the brain. mercury represents how well you can think, your grasping power. mercury also affects your beauty & fashion style, although in a more indirect way unlike like moon which is quite literally your beauty or venus which represents the external manifestation of one's inner self. in mythology, buddha is the son of chandra & tara (jupiter's wife)

mercury is a 'rajasic'/ royal planet and sits in the company of venus and saturn. in elements, it is air. in gods, he is buddha / lord ganesha. in the zodiac, it is gemini & virgo. in nakshatras, it rules ashlesha, jyeshtha and revati. in society, it is the advisor / minister / doctor ( not surgeons ) / young girls. in colors, it is green. in gems, it is emerald. in metals, it is bronze. in the days, it is wednesday / 'budhvaar'. in the body, it is the nervous system, skin, face, and thyroid. in items, it is the pen.

your sister & maternal uncle represent your mercury. bad relationship with sister & uncle = bad mercury and vice versa.

the house which your mercury sits in will dictate the way your mind thinks.

mercury is friends with venus, saturn, sun and rahu. it is neutral towards ketu, mars and jupiter. it is enemies with the moon.

weak mercury = bad body coordination, may have problems walking in a straight line or just bad hand eye coordination. speech problems, may be too hasty, too slow or stutter. unattractive physique if supported by a weak moon and venus. inability to make use of even the most precious things even when the native owns them, a weak mercury is a weak mind.

strong mercury = wide forehead (usually), fond of laughter, may like sweet meats, good at thinking and have a good approach towards analyzing situations.

VENUS / SHUKRA is your beauty, your desires, your external appearance, what pleases you and for a man, what kind of woman best brings you peace and success. in mythology, shukra is the guru / teacher of the demons and hence, a weak venus is a weak moral compass. for men, a weak venus if supported by the appropriate aspects from planets, may make you infertile.

venus is a 'राजस्व' / royal planet and sits in the company of the mercury and saturn. in elements, it is water. in gods, he is shukra / goddess laxmi. in the zodiac, it is taurus & pisces. in society, it is women / younger animals. in colors, it is white and pale pink. in gems, it is diamond. in metals, it is platinum. in the days, it is friday / 'shukravaar'. in the body, it is the reproductive system, lumbar region, veins, parathyroids, throat, kidneys, face, and cheeks. in items, it is money.

your wife / girlfriend / lover / significant women other than the mother represents your venus. bad relationship / mistreatment of wife / women = bad venus, and vice versa.

venus, just like mercury, is best at mixing energies with another planet. very rarely will it give negative results, even when sitting with rahu or ketu.

it is very important for men to respect the women in their life because women represent venus, and for men, venus not only controls your success and fame, but also your ability to reproduce. shukra controls the 'शुक्राणु' / the sperm. expanding on this topic i would also like to mention that people who masturbate a lot weaken their venus because orgasming is a form of releasing sacred pent up energy. this is why people who masturbate a lot have sunken eyes and are physically weaker.

additionally, i would like to mention that in vedic culture, it is advised not to sleep the first time with anyone randomly. the first person who makes you orgasm should be the wedded husband / wife. otherwise, the first orgasm is considered 'wasted'. ( don't come after my ass, do whatever you want i'm just giving information)

for women, it is highly advised to wear floral perfumes and engage in self care to strengthen your venus. venus also represents the bedroom, that's why it is considered a sacred place which should be accessible only to the husband and wife. the wife is the caretaker of this domain, and at the very least should engage in habits that keep the bedroom neat and clean. ( i do not mean to say that the wife should cook and clean or imposing any sexist roles on anyone. regardless, some things are a responsibility and should be done by a specific person. very crude indeed, but i would like to give an example- you won't have servants bathe you just because you're an independent woman, will you? it's like that. i'm not putting anyone at gunpoint here, you're your own master; nor am i supporting sexist gender roles. )

for unmarried women too, it is recommended to spray the bedroom with floral scents and wear white clothes and / or floral designs in clothes, jewelry or flowers themselves in their hair. although the last part isn't very practical. unmarried women should avoid criticizing other women or speaking ill of other's appearance. ( do avoid wearing scents at night though, it attracts negative spirits)

among all planets, venus is the most strongly affected by our day to day actions.

strong venus = good regulation of sexual energy, curvaceous bountiful body for women, healthy reproductive system in men, good hygiene, soft and polite speech, abundance of opportunities.

weak venus = harsh speech, lack of hygiene, disgraceful behavior, weak immune system.

MARS / MANGAL / KUJA is your courage, your energy, your drive, determination, passion and hope. when a human being is born, first the brain starts working, and then the intelligence develops. it is when we become fully conscious of ourselves and our surroundings that we develop a sense of passion and drive, all while the soul keeps watching the 'show' from behind the 'curtain'. mars is what gives life meaning. mars has direct correlation with the moon, because even violence stems from deep emotional turbulence. i have noticed that people with a strong moon but weak mars express even positive emotions very strongly. a weak mars will hinder how you interact with the world. where sun is the will, mars shows the way. sun gives rise to your purpose, and mars gives rise to desire. those two may or may not be the same, but without passion, life has no meaning whatsoever.

mars is a 'सात्त्विक' / pure planet and sits in the company of the sun, moon and jupiter. in elements, it is fire. in gods, he is mangal / lord hanuman. in the zodiac, it is aries and scorpio. in society, it is the soldier / surgeon. in colors, it is red. in gems, it is red coral. in metals, it is bronze. in the days, it is tuesday / 'मंगलवार'. in the body, it is the blood, muscles, bile, hands, genitals, rectum, adrenal, hemoglobin, prostrate gland and adrenaline. in items, it is the knife.

your brother & other prominent men in your life represent your mars. bad relationship with brother or these men = bad mars, and vice versa.

mars can be best managed by doing physical activities. dancing, sports, going for a walk are all activities that will recharge your mars.

weak mars = anger issues, violent behaviour / inclination towards violence or fear of fights / violence. bad expression of self. isses standing up for oneself, body will find it difficult to store and retain energy.

strong mars = bold, fiery and passionate. stubbornness and able to take a stand. will avoid figts until absolutely demanded. courageous but retains their wisdom even in anger. good regulation of excess energy or good at storing energy.

JUPITER / GURU is your knowledge, your moral compass, your 'luck' and your teacher. in terms of luck, jupiter is the planet to go to. thing is that although jupiter itself will not particularly affect the smaller niches of your personality like the sun, moon or asc will, but it will guide you throughout your life. in vedic mythology, jupiter is lord vishnu 'अनंत', 'सत्यानंद' , 'सत्यनारायण'. he is the supreme divine, the origin of life and the preserver of all that exists. he is endless, the only truth, and the guide of all. hence why in the vedic chart, a weak jupiter is considered extremely unfavourable regardless of other factors.

jupiter is a 'सात्त्विक' / pure planet and sits in the company of the sun, moon and mars. in elements, it is air. in gods, he is guru / lord vishnu. in the zodiac, it is sagittarius and pisces. in society, it is the teacher. in colors, it is yellow. in gems, it is yellow sapphire. in metals, it is gold. in the days, it is thursday / 'गुरुवार' . in the body, it is the liver, kidneys, and pancreas. in items, it is the book.

your teacher represents your jupiter. bad relationship with / disrespecting / troubling / viewing the teacher inappropriately = bad jupiter, and vice versa.

for women, jupiter represents the husband. although jupiter should hold more value to women just as a good venus does for men, i recommend strengthening your jupiter for both men and women. a bad jupiter will literally hinder all your success.

jupiter is a heavy planet and damages the house it is sitting in.

jupiter observes, and moulds the path forward based on what you do in the present. jupiter and saturn are the two planets that will never let your past deeds go in vain / be forgotten. the native will get what is due, in accordance with the houses or signs these planets are ruled by.

SATURN / SHANI is your struggles, the punishments you receive for bad karma, your hard work and your restrictions. most people relate saturn with past life karma, and that is only partially true. swyurn is the punishment you're receiving for your past life karma, but if you want to delve into your past .ife itself, then we majorly speak of rahu and ketu, in association with saturn and the ascendant.

maids, sweepers, poor people, disabled people represent your saturn. bad relationship / disrespecting them = bad saturn, and vice versa.

saturn will delay but never deny; it only gives you what you want when you come to terms with why you want it or why the universe should give it to you.

in vedic astrology, we associate to planets with bestowing riches; satrn and rahu. the thing with saturn is that it demands you to become someone who is worthy of receiving what you desire, and that is often a slow process so people dislike this planet. but without your saturn, you will never be able to achieve heights of character and nobility.

capricorn and aquarius are ruled by saturn.

i won't comment on how wek and strong saturn manifests since it's a bit tricky. but if you're certain you're facing problems due to saturn, then you may do the following remedies-

donate alms to beggars, offer food to dogs, respect and care for maids and sweepers, never criticize the difficulties of life. if you're a hindu, praying to lord shiva or lrd narasimha is greatly recommended. during the sadesati period, make it a point to chant the narasimha kavacham / hanuman chalisa for your physical safety.

you can learn about sadesati here.

RAHU is your greed, unjustified curiousity and the things you never managed to know or experience in your past life. although it is fairly antagonised, it is as much representative of your soul as your ketu. as they say, light does not exist without the dark. regardless, rahu is your greed and understanding it is key to understanding your shadow side. what your rahu desires is what you intrinsically are motivated by, whether or not you realise it. it is body less, and craves endlessly. a common remedy to reduce negative affects of rahu is to wear a silver chain around the neck; because rahu is without body and is kept at bay by silver.

rahu represents your paternal ancestors. disrespecting them weakens the rahu.

rahu represents the things you are irresistibly drawn to or have an almost insatiable affinity towards. these are things you didn't focus on in your previous lives, and so to balance the scales, you must now delve into those aspects of life, as well.

what is noteworthy about this though, is to remember than too much of everything is bad. delving too much into the themes of rahu is actually destructive, and this is the part of rahu that most people highlight. it's simply that balance is necessary, and without exploring what your soul desires, you won't be able to sit in peace.

the most important thing here is discipline, though. at the end of the day rahu is a shadow planet that feeds off your satvik gunas (positive qualities).

like i mentioned in saturn; rahu is also one of those planets that bestow massive wealth. businessmen / women often do rituals / remedies to reap the benefits of rahu.

KETU is your past life's karma (mine seems pretty bad since i have written this thing five times now and coincidentally it never displays😶) and your ancestry. it is the things you inherited from your ancestors and also who you were in your past life. ketu is the pathway to understanding one's spiritual nature. ketu is a headless planet. in it's mahadasha or antardasha, natives may find themselves doing things or making decisions they normally wouldn't because they are disillusioned by falsities.

ketu represents our maternal ancestors. speaking ill of them ruins our ketu.

ketu is the body of the demon svarbhanu, (you may read about the mythology behind rahu & ketu in vedic culture here; amazing article btw) and wields a sword in his hands; this sword is symbolic of ketu's importance in our lives. he is the force that cuts out attachments and punishes us for our bad deeds in our previous lives. this is why the punishments bestowed by ketu are difficult to understand.

truth be told, it is best to lower our heads and accept his punishments. this is one of the planet's on whom no remedy works. he aspires not only for you to rise from the mud, but also aims at helping you bloom into a lotus. he will break you, but just as a forest blooms after a fire, we too, must burn ourselves in the trials of life to become our best selves.

ketu also create illusions and causes dissatisfaction wherever it sits. this is unlike the nature of rahu which desires more of wherever it is sitting; ketu causes you to completely turn away from said thing. ketu is the outcast. it's energy is like a snake's; dangerous, but attractive nonetheless.

ketu dominant people, or people having ketu conjunct sun or moon within 10° are highly magnetic. they tend to devour other's energy. of course, it can manifest positively as well; but majorly these people create a lot of polarity wherever they go, attracting people to themselves with ease.

this also means that they are prone to the black eye. ketu dominant people try to be rational, but it's easy for them to get carried away. they should keep at least one well-wisher around themselves whom they can trust with their body and soul.

in your ketu md, or ad, make sure not to gamble with money, resources or people too much. this will be a time of less, regardless of how good ketu might be in your chart. and if it's weak, then it will cause intense emotional turmoil, depression, and in worst cases, even drive someone to insanity or suicide (debilitated moon with strong mars in low dignity supported with a weak sun)

no remedy exists for ketu. you can only pray to your god to protect your physical health and your soul and give you the strength to overcome difficulties. remember that ketu aims not to break you, but to teach you, and if you resist too much, then it will break you.

helpful resources (verified) you need not overwhelm yourself with information, it's just for help and you end up learning it along the way; no need to try to memorise it.

understanding mahadasha and antardasha.

reading the south indian, and north indian vedic chart, respectively. below it, basic info about the planets. note that, ketu is represented by the colour brown and rahu by deep blue as opposed to 'colourless'.

the significance of the houses, and their respective planets.

break down of the four main motivations of human life as depicted in vedic chart.

the aspects of the planets in vedic astrology. note that all planets have a default aspect of conjunction, which maximum works till 15°. also known as the 'drishti' / sight of planets.

the planets and the houses wherein they are strong / weak.

the various charts studied id vedic astrology. we majorly discuss D1 and D9 charts.

importance of the houses in D9 chart.

the 12 zodiac signs.

the 27 nakshatras (lunar mansions).

FINDING THE DOMINANT PLANET

DISCLAIMER : THE METHOD I HAVE USED BELOW IS SIMPLY BASED OFF GENERAL TRENDS AND IS NOT ANY CONVENTIONAL METHOD. I ALLOW ITS USE ON GROUNDS THAT INACCURACIES ARE NOT TO BE HELD AGAINST ME.

use the following trick for finding your dominant planet; the planet with the highest score is your dominant planet.

moon nakshatra lord [ +15 ]

moon sign lord [ +8 ]

asc nakshatra lord [ +10 ]

asc sign lord [ +10 ]

sun nakshatra lord [ +3 ]

sun sign lord [ +3 ]

planets in first house closely conjunct asc ( 10 degree max. ) [ +8 ]

planets in first house loosely conjunct asc ( any degree further than 10) [ +4 ]

planets in stellium conjunct moon [ +5 ]

planets in stellium conjunct sun [ +2 ]

in case it so happens that two planets are having the same score-

recheck your calculations

choose the planet of your moon sign lord / nakshatra lord out of the two

if none of these tips help and you're certainly not an idiot then you're welcome to send me your chart to help you determine your dominant planet. only send your vedic chart + nakshatras. i will not analyse anything else in the chart, though.

JAIMINI ASTROLOGY

i am not learnt in jaimini astrology and only understand understand the few basics which i might mention from time to time, so you may refer to this website to understand what atmakaraka and amatyakaraka are

CLOSING WORD : consider this to be the guidebook of all vedic astrology content that ill post on my blog. if there is any doubt, then please first refer to this post for information, and if you still don't find an answer to your question, then you're welcome to send it to me via ask. do remember that i will exercise freedom in which asks i shall answer and which ones i won't based on how precise the question you're asking is since i don't do personal readings.

[kyeomszone]

motive ○ lee dokyeom

tags. exes to ??. ex-fwb. hate sex (started off atleast, these bitches are idiots). fingering. rough sex. penetrative sex (vaginal). degradation. objectification. unresolved romantic tension.

synopsis. there aren't a lot of things that can get the Lee Seokmin angry. He's seen a lot in his career as the district attorney, has lived through a lot but goddammit did you know how to get under his skin better and faster than anyone with the infuriating smirk of yours.

masterlist. series masterlist.

If someone were to ask about what sort of person Lee Seokmin is, the first thing that would pop up in people’s heads is kind or a saint or some other iteration of it.

The man had built his career from these very acts, pro bono cases ( despite being very broke straight out of university ) to tackling big public figures━ politicians, businessmen and women, none were safe from Lee Seokmin and his silver tongue━ to now, having been elected the district attorney, the youngest in the country’s history.

You call bullshit.

The Lee Seokmin you know is all teeth, bruising grip and unforgiving mouth.

You remember the man as clear as day, even though it has been almost half a decade since the two of you last crossed paths━ a hurried conversation, the crack in your heart, the coldness in his eyes-

You remember the man, the way he spun arguments in his favour no matter how bad the odds were, the way he brought the room’s attention to himself so irrevocably, so effortlessly with that bright smile of his, the very same smile that turned sharp and sharklike behind closed door, having you shaking in your knees and your cheeks stained with tears as he denied you the high.

He was kind yes, but not a saint.

Lee Seokmin was the farthest thing from a saint.

Maybe that was why wherever you get the chance, you try to get under his skin and show the world the cruel thing that lay behind their saint. That this-this whole kindness, this love, this care that he shows are all a carefully done facade.

So, you were on the witness stand, repeating the oath as a smirk played on your lips with your eyes not leaving Seokmin’s form. He looked tense, jaw clenched, knuckles white and eyebrows set.

The man looked far tenser than he did when had introduced the case, a hard look on his face but eyes still infuriatingly kind, the opening a carefully curated string of words that had the audience━ judge, jury, defendant, everyone entranced, the words spoken in that soft, sweet voice of his already swaying the jury.

The case had been against one of your former business partners, you having been brought in as a witness or said man to use against Seokmin’s arguments and even though the man you had worked with could be described as scum, you played up the act. Doing your part to convince the jury that the accusations were baseless and the prosecution was simply trying to bring down a good man (and if you threw in jabs against Seokmin in between your words, well that was between you and him).

Which brought you this very moment━ you sitting in one of your office chairs after hours, the plush material soft against your back as you lift the glass of bourbon to your lips, the smile on your lips smug as you stare down Seokmin, the glass you had offered him sitting untouched.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for humiliation,” Your words are sharp as they fall from your lips, mocking. “You think you know a person.”

Seokmin doesn’t rise to the bait, instead, he looks at you, something angry, something resigned in his gaze that makes your skin itch. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” Seokmin repeats himself, a sigh falling from his lips as he finally picks up the glass of alcohol, staring at the amber liquid. “Why go out of your way to defend him?”

You scoff at his audacity to question you after everything he has done. “What do you mean, why? He’s my business partner, we worked together and I━”

“Bullshit.” Seokmin snaps, his eyes hard as he glares at you, his grip on the glass now white-knuckled. “That's bullshit and we both know that. He is a murd━”

“You don’t know me Lee Seokmin,” You interrupt him, setting the glass with a hard clang as you narrow your eyes at him. “So don’t barge your way in here and give me a fucking lecture on morality.”

“You're right,” Seokmin sighs, taking a large gulp of bourbon and your eyes can’t help but trace the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I don’t know you, the version of you that I knew is-is gone and...” a sharp laugh falls from his lips as he sets the glass back down. His eyes turn cold, lips twisting into a cruel little smile as he tilts his head. “What’s left of you is an empty shell filled with nothing but greed and━”

You are out of your chair before he finishes speaking, pushing his shoulders harshly as you glare down at him. Your breath comes out in harsh pants, jaw clenched and nails digging into the muscle of his shoulder, “Fuck you.”

Seokmin stares back, his eyes not leaving yours and he keeps staring and staring and━

His lips find themselves on your, hand cradling your jaw as the other tangles with your hair. You freeze for a minute, eyes wide at the unexpected course of action and it takes a minute for your brain to reboot before you find yourself kissing him back, your tongue licking across his seam, his tongue tangling with yours, mapping your mouth.

He stands up, lips still moving against yours as he gently pushes your backwards until the small of your back hits the desk, his body pressing against yours and━ fuck, you hate how this has your hold body burning, heat settling in your bones and turning you to putty.

He pulls away, panting as his forehead rests against yours. His grip on your jaw doesn’t loosen, neither does his hold on your hair and it sends a jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“Seokmin,” You breathe out, eyes on his face, the sharp contours of his face, the slope of his jaw, the moles shattered on his cheeks, all of which as like familiar in a way a book you had read years ago is. “Seokmin what━”

“Shut up,” Seokmin mumbles against your lips, pulling them back in and in one fell swoop, he has you lifted onto your desk, settling in between your legs and the casual display of strength has wetness pooling in your panties. You knew Seokmin had filled out, the muscles on his body no longer lithe the way it had been in university━ not from the way his shirts and suits hugged his body, almost tearing at the seams due to the stretch with each contraction.

His hand trails down from your hair, moving down until they’re at the buttons of your shirt, fingers undoing them and pulling it off, the fabric pooling near your hips and your shiver as the cold air of room brushes against your skin. Your grip on his shirt tightens, the fabric crinkling as you try to bring him closer than he already is, seeking out the wet heat of his mouth with a fervent need.

He pulls away for a second, breathing harshly, “Do you want to stop?”

You stare at him, the words taking a moment to skin in and when they do, you shake your head, “No,” the word falls off your lips without a beat of hesitation.

“Still the slut I know.” The words fall off Seokmin’s lips accompanied by a small laugh, a deeper, darker sort of under that makes molten heat course through your veins despite the humiliation that burns in you. “Maybe not everything has changed.”

You ignore the way his words sound wistful by the end, tugging him back down to meet your mouth, moaning at the way he bites your bottom lips, thighs pushing against your core. A beat later, his mouth starts trailing down, from your lips to your jaw, biting and licking and tugging at the skin of your jaw to your neck to your shoulder and then down to your tits.

One of his hands moves to unhook your bra while the other moves the garment. His mouth settles on one of the nubs, the teeth sinking into the flesh sending a flash of pleasure that has you gasping, back arching as you push yourself more onto him. His hand cups the other breast, fingers digging into the soft mound and as he tugs and tugs the abused nipple before moving onto the other.

All the while you’ve turned into a mess of pants and moans, your eyes rolling the the back of your head as Seokmin works his way through your body, taking you as he pleases, however he wants, wherever he wants━ uncaring of what you have to say.

It makes you feel like an object to use for his pleasure.

It makes your core throb.

“Pretty,” Seokmin mumbles against your skin, his breath warm and making you shiver. “My pretty girl.”

You burn at the praise, at being called his and you hate how it makes you feel.

“Fuck me already,” You snap instead, distracting yourself from whatever's starting to take root in you.

Seokmin’s eyes snap up to yours, eyebrows scrunching as he takes in a sharp breath. His hand trailed from your waist to your neck, fingers curling around the base of it and giving a light squeeze, making your breath hitch. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” He grits out, his words sharp and syllables coated in warning. “Behave.”

You swallow and nod. “Okay,” your next breath is shaky as you look at him. He stares at you for a second, before nodding.

“Be a good girl for me, baby,” Seokmin says, kissing you again as his hands start moving down. He unbuckles your belt, undoing the button and taking off your pants and underwear together, dropping them to the floor.

“So wet for me,” Seokmin mumbles, running a finger through your fold, wetness gathering on his finger making you moan, his mouth swallowing the sound. Two fingers slip into your hole easily, Seokmin groaning at the smooth motion and the subsequent tightening around the digits. His thumb settles against your cilt, rubbing circles as he starts fucking you rough and fast with his fingers.

He pulls away from you slightly, lips a breath away as he says: “How many times can I make you cum before you start sobbing?” He grins against your lips as you can only reply with a moan. “I remember it being four before you started whriting and sobbing as you begged me to stop.”

“Seok━” You gasp out as he presses against your cilt harder, your whole body tensing as you get closer and closer to the edge, your whole body tight as a coil.

“Has it gone back to one?” Seokmin keeps the conversation going nonchalantly as if you weren’t seconds away from crumbling to the ground. “No one’s been able to fuck you as well as I did to keep up?”

The coil in you snaps, as you clench around his fingers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan; your orgasm washing over you.

“One.” Seokmin counts, his thumb still working away at your cilt and your body starts to tighten again, limbs locking up and you’re sure the only reason you're still upright is due to the hold Seokmin has on you. His fingers still piston in and out of you and within a few breaths you’re being pushed to the edge again, body coiling and coiling and━

“Seokmin,” You can’t help but sob out when the second orgasm washes over you and Seokmin still keeps going, thumb working and working and working away at your cilt. “Can’t, please, Seok━ Seokmin.”

Seokmin stops, his fingers pulling out as he ticks an eyebrow, “Just two?”

You take in a shaky breath, your whole body shuddering as you nod. “I... I’m sorry,” you find yourself saying, despite the embarrassment stelling into your bones━ you don’t even know why.

“It’s okay, baby.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips, soft and warm and a complete juxtaposition to his demeanour a beat ago. “You did good, sweetheart.”

You find yourself nodding, letting him completely overwhelm your senses. His hands caging your body, clothed thigh pressed against your dripping core, mouth moving against yours, soft, wet warm and grounding.

“Lay back,” Seokmin orders softly once he pulls away and you do, your back settling on the cool surface of the glass as you hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor. A moan falls from your lips as you feel his head against your folds, moving to collect the wetness on the dull nub. Your whole body arches, mouth falling open as he pushes in, the thick length of his stretches you to your absolute limits, and despite the wetness from his ministrations and two orgasms, it still takes a bit of effort to fully seath himself inside.

Good god, you’d forgotten how big he was.

No wonder anyone who came after could never fully make you feel half of what he did.

“Fuck,” Seokmin pants, his body leaning over yours, “My perfect little toy,” Seokmin moans out as he starts moving, a slow drag followed by a snap that has you arching. With each thrust, he picks up his pace, playing with your cilt every once in a while to bring you closer to your orgasm as he fucks you fast and rough and hard enough to leave you aching for days.

Your body is putty by the time his pace grows erratic, hips snapping against yours as he fucks you, pistoning in and out and in and you feel your body tightening, his own breaths coming out sharp and short and a few thrusts later, you're coming around his cock, tightening around his thick girth and that seems to push him over the edge as well as he quickly pulls out and paints your stomach white.

It takes a minute for you to catch your breath, your senses slowly rewriting itself from having been fried. You push yourself to sit up despite the exhaustion settling in your body as you stare at Seokmin, hair damp from sweat, skin flushed with the effect of sex and he looks just as breathtaking as the first day you saw him.

A heaviness settles in your chest the longer you look.

You missed him.

You hate yourself for thinking that.

note. i have a part two for it that is more plot than smut, so lemme know if anyone's interested

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

something something cycles of grief, everyone doing the same mythologisation to Celia/Muro, warping who he is in their minds to fit the narratives they want to believe, how they perceive him being much less about who he truly is but their own issues & flaws, projected onto him [Tesoros guilt, Conficcares grief at his childhood being taken from him, ect]

urge to write Paula more and give her a pov or two so she's not just a Dead MumTM vs the urge to only have her mentioned and seen through other ppls biased and warped narrations & thoughts because the whole point is that Celia and Cecio [&the others] make Paula into who they want her to be to fit their narratives and confirming what she's really like kinda fucks it up

[cuppajj]

Neo Beast Head cannons?

WOOWOO

✨Saint Vanilla Cookie

He’s the only one who goes wherever he wants. The other beasts are pretty stationary for the time being, but Saint’s on a mission and he will show up literally anywhere

Still loves animals and thinks they’re incapable of sinning, so they don’t get the purifying touch. It’s why raisin’s crows are still alive

Speaking of raisin, he does miss her but he thinks she’s in a better place. Calls her his martyr and talks about her like she’s still alive

He has tea every morning

It’s unknown where he sleeps when he’s traveling the world

He keeps Crepe’s headset extra clean for the day they meet each other again

❤️‍🔥Dragonberry Cookie

She is still the same old Hollyberry who loves drinking berry juice like there’s no tomorrow. She even brings pints to Neo beast meetings

Even though her pride has given her a massive superiority complex, she still views her family and even Pitaya rather fondly, though it doesn’t prevent the latter from being spared any sort of pain. She sees everything as playful until it’s not

Does frankly miss Tarte Tatin and Royal Margarine even though one or both of them has Snapdragon, who she’s trying to get her hands on

Snores

❄️Frigid Cacao Cookie

Rarely speaks but when he does it’s usually to give orders, and half of that time he asks for food

His incense always remains lit

Alongside the cookies left, sometimes the licorice sea monsters that now roam his halls act as his servants. He can also use the licorice ooze to do wacky things like teleport from one place to another

Sometimes he appears in the fog of the snow like an apparition, something you can barely see but know he’s there. It’s one of the rare sightings of him outside

Another thing he does when outside is stare at a frozen Cacaoian. Sometimes he touches the icy surface, maybe kneels. Who knows what he’s thinking?

☀️Celestial Cheese Cookie

A lot of her mannerisms are akin to white diamond from steven universe, she was actually one of the main references I used for her design

She can summon as many golden arms as she wants and they operate on hydra properties. Cutting one will grow two

Despite this, she doesn’t have the legit Midas touch where everything she touches turns to gold, she can be selective. Which is good when she wants to pet jackals

Her growing kingdom is full of converted desert inhabitants and travelers, maybe a handful of townships, and it’s remarkable how she’s been able to grow a lot from nothing. She does get a bit of an inferiority complex when comparing herself to the likes of Dragonberry, but it motivates her to conquer more

🥀Midnight Lily Cookie

She picked up playing the harp after she became queen, and she plays often. The silver fae like to gather around to listen to their queen perform, and her harp can be heard across the kingdom

She’s grown more accustomed to speaking like the silver fae as well at times, her voice songlike despite how neutral it sounds. She’ll sing as she plays the harp as well

Despite being a beast, she’s the least accepting of that name for lack of a better word. She doesn’t see herself as being corrupt, only staying true to her decisions and her sovereignty, what she believes is right for herself and everyone. It just so happens that it enables the bad to do worse, but it’s not her problem anyway.

Her kingdom is still strict to outsiders, probably on the same level as cacao. You might need an invitation inside or risk the silver fae being free to do whatever they wish with you

As I mentioned previously they operate similar to the fae (unseelie in aesthetic) so you don’t want to bother chaotic neutral creatures

The only one allowed without invitation is Saint Vanilla, who has a habit of showing up in her garden to lay among the flowers. Lily can only imagine what he thinks of when he sees her