#remembrance of jade and stone

[dragaliareferencearchive]

Model references for -Baizhu -Shenhe -Keqing -Ganyu -Qiqi -Tartaglia -Xiao Genshin Impact *Please note that the released models for Keqing, Ganyu, and Xiao are missing the lining of their clothes

*As of 5 February 2025 Baizhu's references have been replaced with a version that includes an updated watermark

[genshin-impact-updates]

Lantern Rite Arrives, Old Friends Reunite — Chronicled Wish "Remembrance of Jade and Stone" Is Coming Soon!

Chronicled Wish "Remembrance of Jade and Stone" is coming soon! During the event, you can stock up on weapons and characters in the Chronicled Wish. Let's have a look~

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact | Lantern Rite Arrives, Old Friends Reunite — Chronicled Wish "Remembrance of Jade and Stone" Is Coming Soon!

[ranahan]

Dral’Han & derived words

I think Mando’a should have a whole bunch of words indirectly or directly derived from Dral’Han aka the Mandalorian Excision, and I finally got around to making some.

Ahan (n): desolation, waste, wasteland, desert

I’m really leaning on the “desolate, lifeless” sense here, not just some place that receives less rainfall. Ahane is applicable to any lifeless place, whether that’s a hot desert like Tatooine, a cold desert like Antarctica, lava flats like Mustafar, or a man-made hellhole like Melida/Daan. Very much the same energy as “wastes” in English. I’m thinking Mando’a has another word for “wilderness” or “arid landscape” as well, that leans more on the drought and less on the annihilation.

Construction is equivalent to viin ‘run’ > iviin ‘speed’ or vaar ‘early’ > evaar ‘new’. Should possibly be ehan(?), but I didn’t like the sound, so.

Ahanyc (a): desolate, barren, wasted, deserted, empty, lifeless

Ahane (n): lit. wastes, barrens, deserts. A collective term for the Mandalorian deserts formed by the Dral’Han.

Hane (n): wastes, barrens, deserts; a common part of place names on Mandalorian worlds affected by Dral'Han (e.g. Sundar’hane, the Sundari Desert aka the Sundari Wastes)

A more casual/contracted version of ahan/ahane that could be extended to mean other kinds of deserts as well.

Ahan’choruk (n): lit. desolation rock. Metamorphic rock formed by the heat and pressure of the bombs of the Dral’Han; a general term for impactites formed by bombs instead of natural processes.

Hanil (n): 1. An amulet, carving, or other item made from the glass formed in the Dral’Han. Sometimes left in their natural, irregular shapes, sometimes worked into shapes of extinct Mandalorian plants and animals, sometimes carved with inscriptions. Botanicals are common motifs due to the green colours of the material. Specimens that incorporate pieces of pre-Dral’Han material are especially valuable. Hanile are symbols of remembrance, defiance, and rebirth for some and pursuit of peace for others. Sundari had a famous large mosaic made from desert glass, in a style preceding Mandalorian cubism.; 2. a sigil in the shape of a hanil, typically in a jade-green color and shaped like an extinct plant or an animal, often a flower or a leaf.

Inspired by Māori pounamu and jade carvings of various other cultures.

N.B. trinitite is radioactive, although the radioactive particles decay quite fast. After a couple of centuries, it should have been safe. Trinitite from the Purge of Mandalore during the Galactic Emprie however, would still be somewhat radioactive at the time of The Mandalorian/Book of Boba Fett—not terribly dangerous, but not exactly something you would want to make jewellery from.

And then there should also be a name for the stone that hanile are made from, i.e. basically a Mando’a word for trinitite, but it’s not quite congealing right now. Bedral, behan, hanab (be + han), tehan (teh + han)? I would have made it dralurok, but I already had that down as “diamond”. Basically I’d like there to be a general term for the subclass of metamorphic rocks formed by nuclear weapons (which I imagine are many and varied depending on where the bombs dropped), and a more compact “trade term” for the specific kind which makes pretty trinkets like hanile.

? (n): trinitite formed in the Dral'han, aka Mandalorian desert glass, aka Mandalorian jade (called so after its greenish colours)

[silvysartfulness]

top 5 colors, top 5 song lyrics, OR top 5 cooking utensils. or all of the above if you dare >:3

💪😤💪

Favourite colours: 1. Green. Green is my absolute favourite colour spectrum, and I especially lean into shades of jade, olive and moss. 2. Purple. Another strong contender! I like somewhat muted jewel tones of purple - aubergine, lavender, amethyst 3. Teal and turquoise, especially the deeper tones. 4. Graphite greys and blacks. Shades that are both objectively pretty and that I like to wear. 5. Hnnngh, how can I choose... I like muted chocolate browns, like dark stained wood. Rust is pretty, as are gold and silver as contrast colours... but if I can only pick one, I think I'll go with blue, especially smokey, muted mid-range blues.

Colours is one of those things my autistic brain is very attuned to. I am very aware of all colours around me, and colour is always a very important variable in choosing one thing over another. Favourite song lyrics: 1. Hurts, Emili Sande It hurts the way that you pretend you don't remember It hurts the way that you forget our times together Like the time laid in bed when you said it's forever, baby I can't, I can't explain no more Baby, I'm not made of stone, it hurts Loving you the way I do, it hurts When all that's left to do is watch it burn Oh baby, I'm not made of stone, it hurts (Straight up the lyrics that inspired those scenes in Heaven) 2. A Beautiful Lie, Thirty Seconds To Mars It's time to forget about the past To wash away what happened last Hide behind an empty face Don't ask too much just say Cause this is just a game It's a beautiful lie It's a perfect denial Such a beautiful lie to believe in So beautiful, beautiful, it makes me (A very Xue Yang in Yi City song to me)

3. Damaged People, Depeche Mode We're damaged people, drawn together By subtleties that we are not aware of Disturbed souls, playing out forever These games that we once thought we would be scared of When you're in my arms The world makes sense There is no pretense And you're crying When you're by my side There is no defense I forget to sense I'm dying (This has been on so many character/ship playlists...)

4. Illusion, VNV Nation A part of your soul ties you to the next world Or maybe to the last, but I'm still not sure But what I do know, is to us the world is different As we are to the world but I guess you would know that Please don't go, I want you to stay I'm begging you please, please don't leave here I don't want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel The world is just illusion trying to change you (Love this both for characters and myself)

5. Dawn, Poets Of The Fall When darkness is no less than everything you've built become undone There's no fight and no flight, disaster leaves your passion overrun It's time to let go, it's time to carry on with the show Don't mourn what is gone, greet the dawn And I will be standing by your side Together we'll face the turning tide Remembrance, can be a sentence, but it comes to you with a second chance in tow Don't lose it, don't refuse it, 'cause you cannot learn a thing you think you know A new light is warm, shining down on you after the storm Don't mourn what is gone, greet the dawn (One of my absolute favourite songs. Another I love both for myself and so many characters)

Music more for the blorbos than me, maybe? But these are songs that I like a lot. Though actually, the vast majority of the music on my playlists is actually either instrumental or in languages I don't speak? Sometimes, especially when writing, lyrics can be too distracting. But I do have some workhorses that have been on many a blorbo playlist, and many of the above songs certainly qualify. 😂

Top Cooking utensils: 1. Tea ball thingies. Most of our tea is loose leaf, so you need a tea strainer to steep the tea. We have a bouquet of a dozen or so in a little vase over the kettle, and I use them daily. 2. Cooking pliers? I guess? I use those just about every time I need to fry something, to be able to both poke and flip even small bits and pieces. (they're plastic, they don't scratch the pan!) 3. Pasta ladle. We have a very pretty one shaped like a green leaf! (Remember how I said green's my favourite colour? Luckily it's wife's, too, so a lot of our china and kitchen utensils are green! In fact, the pliers above are green, too!) 4. Wooden fork spatula. The other go-to for frying things, when you need to stir stuff about. 5. Wait, does the electric kettle count? Because I absolutely use that daily too! Heating water both for tea and for ramen and similar.

Hah, did them all! Thank you for playing! 😂

[ranahan]

Okay folks, we’ve talked about Mandalorian colour symbolism, but what about gemstone symbolism?

Did you know that the same quality that makes gemstones suitable for jewellery, also makes them suitable for knife handles? Yes, they’re pretty, but more pertinently, they’re hard. They wear well without getting scratched up.

I’m gonna insert here one of my all-time favourite artist’s pages about gemstone knife handles. If you’ve ever wondered about mandalorian jewellery or what some really fancy knives look like, wonder no further:

So what about that symbolism? Colour is an obvious association, so here are a few ideas:

Red: honouring a parent

Ruby (& spinel, which is very very similar in looks, to the degree many irl famous rubies are actually spinels): family, familial love, legacy, honour

Garnet: in English, named for their resemblance to pomegranate seeds; in Mando’a, named for their resemblance to drops of blood. Symbol of love, loyalty, bonds forged in battle or adversity; and also hard work (“sweating blood”) and sacrifice.

Red jasper: strength, courage, perseverance, defiance

Agate: colourful and wildly patterned, symbolises creation and creativity.

Orange: shereshoy, lust for life

Amber: varies from yellow to orange, specimens with trapped insects etc. are especially valuable. Symbolises aay’han, or perhaps a mandalorian version of “memento mori”: remember that one day you too will die, so enjoy today like it’s your last day. Or perhaps, “remember that one day you will die, but what your hands have wrought will live forever.”

Citrine: joy, happiness, life; remembrance. Varies from yellow to orange.

Orange topaz, sapphire, diamond, etc: joy, lust for life, enduring joy and happiness. As a gift, send the message of “you are my joy” or “you make me happy.”

Hrthgingian Firegem: canonical gemstone from Mandalorian space. Passion, joy, lust for life perhaps? Irl sunstones or fire opals would be great stand-ins.

Fire opal: fire, creation, skill and knowledge; great trials

Yellow: remembrance

As gifts, yellow gemstones (especially ones that shade to champagne or brown) are suggestive of loyalty and promises kept. They can be a reminder of a promise made or a promise to honour one’s word.

Most commonly, wearing yellow gemstones signifies remembrance. What kind of remembrance depends on the context. In gold setting and paired with black? Out for vengeance. In silver setting? Probably remembering a lost love.

Yellow gemstones are also associated with life, continuity and eternity; lineages and legacies; and keeping the past alive into the future.

And orange gemstones, as above, are associated with shereshoy. Orange-yellow stones can be associated with aay’han, both remembrance and joy.

Some might give the meanings of the various yellow gemstones thusly…

(Yellow) topaz: remembrance, continuity, eternity, dedication, legacy; continuing life, bittersweet joy

Citrine: joy, happiness, life; remembrance, aay’han. Varies from yellow to orange.

Golden beryl (heliodor): you could also call this stone yellow emerald. Symbol of loyalty, promises kept.

…but in practice, it mostly depends on the shade of the particular stone more than its variety.

Pyrite: vengeance; sometimes greed (in English it’s also called fool’s gold). Sending pyrite jewellery as a gift is a promise of vengeance, not a bribe. It’s saying “here’s the payment you deserve, we’ll send it to you later >:)))”

Green: duty

Jade: prosperity, hard work, good fortune, fertility, vitality and growth

Jasper: protection, strength. Can be any colour, but typically green or red, often bright and multicoloured, well suited for carvings & decorative purposes.

Bloodstone is a type of jasper, usually dark green flecked with red. Symbolises defence, protection, duty and family.

Light green: lust for peace

Mandalorian desert glass (trinitite): Hanile are jewellery, amulets, carvings, or other items made from the glass formed in the Dral’Han. Sometimes left in their natural, irregular shapes, sometimes worked into shapes of extinct Mandalorian plants and animals, sometimes carved with inscriptions. Botanicals are common motifs due to the green colours of the material. Specimens that incorporate pieces of pre-Dral’Han material are especially valuable. Hanile are symbols of remembrance, defiance, and rebirth for some and pursuit of peace for others. (N.B. irl trinitite is still radioactive, so don’t make jewellery out of it; Mandalorian trinitite is 700 years and many half-times older than Terran trinitite.)

Jade (light green): jade and other light green gemstones have also taken on meanings associated with hanile or lust for peace.

Peridot: lust for or commitment to peace, serenity, warding off disaster and protection against curses and misfortune.

Teal: healing

Emerald: the major symbolism associated with emeralds is healing. More superstitious folks might believe emeralds to aid in healing from physical or psychological injuries or protect against poisons (poisons are kind of feared in mando mentality: they’re seen as honourless, but insidious and hard to defend against). Emerald rings are especially associated with the protection from poison superstition. Sometimes the poison can be seen more metaphorically, and can include betrayal from within. A character in a play wearing an emerald ring can symbolise paranoia. Bright blue-green stones are most valued.

Blue: reliability

Sapphire: reliability, endurance, and steadfastness; devotion and fidelity

Lapis Lazuli: trustworthiness, constancy, sincerity, honesty; faithfulness, friendship; promises, contracts. In marriage gifts, symbolises unity and keeping of the promises.

Granite: can be multiple colours (not typically blue though), characteristic pattern. Symbolises reliability.

Light blue: love

Turquoise: *the* classic stone of (romantic) love, super traditional in courting, engagement and/or marriage gifts.

Moonstone: whitish-blue, with beautiful ethereal sheen. Stones with asterisms are especially valued. In Mandalorian culture, more associated with stars than the moon and said to contain the light of the stars and the protection of the Ka’ra; traditionally held to have protective qualities, especially for children. Very popular in jewellery, especially gifted to children and expecting parents, but also popular as marriage gifts and for any occasion.

Aquamarine & sapphire (light blue): fidelity, faithful love

Purple: luck, survival in adversity

Amethyst: *the* lucky stone. Symbolises luck, survival, perseverance in adversity; hope and gratitude for victory. For more religious or traditionally minded folks, the stone of Hod’Haran.

Chalcedony: luck, chance, fortune, serendipity

Opal: associated with rainbows, and in Mando mythos, rainbow comets. The stone of navigators, wayfinders, discovery, possibility, serendipitous finds and foundlings.

Pink: respect, preservation, honouring tradition and heritage, colour of lore keepers

Pink ruby, diamond: truth, vision, honour (if you want to get specific, I might put pink rubies down as honour and pink diamonds as truth, but tbh they look exactly alike to me)

Rose quartz: respect, preservation, vision, inspiration

Pink pearl: preservation, survival

Brown: valour

Tiger’s eye: valour, courage. Associated with warriors and defence of one’s home and family. Called hawk’s eye or galaar’sur’haai in Mando’a.

Smoky quartz (brown): loyalty, faith

Black: justice

Many black stones have white inclusions that can bring to mind the night sky.

Onyx (black agate): a hard stone suitable for hard use. Symbolises justice.

Black diamond (and other black sparkly gems): truth; enduring justice, fate

Obsidian: truth

Grey: mourning, redemption

Hematite: with a metallic sheen reminiscent of bare beskar, the natural association with hematite is mourning.

Black pearl: more often some variety of grey than a true black. Symbolise mourning, healing, and growth after a disaster; redemption, commitment to change (as if repainting one’s beskar’gam), or commitment to justice (see black + pearl).

Grey diamond: enduring grief

White: death, birth, rebirth, change, growth & new beginnings

Diamond: the stone of Ka’ra, wisdom, and eternity. Diamonds, like gold, can depending on the context also symbolise greed, materialism, and decay (stubbornly unchanging things are double-bladed swords like that in mando symbolism).

Pearl: symbolises endurance, toughness, stubbornness—the venerated quality of atin; also achievement and perfection. Long strings of pearls symbolise the long hours of practice and toil needed to reach one’s goals, and can therefore represent devotion to one’s craft, ideal or goals. Pearls and garnets together signify sacrifice and devotion.

Ivory: victory, conquest. D’you guys think there’s mythosaur ivory, like we have mammoth ivory on Earth??? 👀

…but like beskar’gam colours, gemstones are often picked just for their looks rather than their symbolism. They can also just represent the meanings associated with their colours in general.

Stones with asterisms are especially valued regardless of their species—mandos do love their star-symbolism.

Also let’s remember that gemstones are and have always been luxury goods of the rich. This might be different for sci-fi aliens who can produce artificial gems cheaply… or perhaps not: Star Wars is fantasy in sci-fi clothes, and its societies appear very inequal. So let’s go with sparkly stones being status symbols still. I tried to attach values more associated with “old money” and “old rich clans” like legacy or protection from assassination by poison to the precious stones, and more down-to-earth values like love to semiprecious stones like amber, turquoise and garnets, which should be the most commonly used ones.

By LabradoriteKing on Pinterest

[zed-air]

CKUA - Fill-In Playlists: 2025

______

Below are the playlists for shows where I filled-in as guest host on CKUA during 2025.

Explore my playlist history for other dates and programs

• • •

TITLE • PERFORMING ARTIST • ALBUM • AIRTIME

(01) 2024-01-01 - 09:00-11:00 - Discoveries

^^ Listener and/or donor recommendations/requests

Where Are We Now? • David Bowie • The Next Day • 09:01

More Than This • Mallory Chipman • ______ • 09:04 ^^

Between The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea • George Harrison • Brainwashed • 09:09 ^^

Great Great Day • Beth Portman • Great Great Day • 09:12

Harbour • Cate Le Bon • Pompeii • 09:15

Good Kinda High (ft. US Girls) • Glenn Gould • Uninvited Guests • 09:19

Fireworks • First Aid Kit • Ruins • 09:23

Neptune City • Nicole Atkins • Neptune City • 09:27

Ivanku, Ivanku (feat. Anna Hnydyn) • Kinva • Kinva • 09:31

Imouwizla • Etran de L'AIr • Agadez • 09:36

A La Loma De Belen • Alex Cuba, Adonis Puentes • Voces De Mi Familia • 09:41

Here With Me • Aladean Kheroufi • Studies In A Dying Love • 09:44

Stay With Me • Erin Ross • The Wind Will Lead Me Home • 09:48

Watermelon Pink • Leeroy Stagger • 3 AM Revelations • 09:53

Whatever Helps You • Mariel Buckley • Everywhere I Used to Be • 09:59

Whisky Waltz • The Denim Daddies • Northern Goods • 10:05

A Picture of a Picture • Billie Zizi • Levitate • 10:11

The Long Goodbye • The Hearts • Traces [EP] • 10:14

Between Two Points (feat. Romany Gilmour) • David Gilmour • Luck and Strange • 10:18

Remembrance • Vodohrai • Even the Forest Hums • 10:25

Imago • Jyn-Ting Ying • Black Silk, Living Eyes • 10:29

Firefly • Ellen Doty • Every Little Scene • 10:32

You Make It Look Easy • Celeigh Cardinal • Boundless Possibilities • 10:39

In My Dreams • Shaela Miller • After the Masquerade • 10:41

Place Where I'm From • Amelie Patterson • Roll Honey Roll • 10:46

Mysterium • Kenny Vaughan • Kenny Vaughan • 10:52

(02) 2024-01-02 - 09:00-11:00 - Discoveries

The Loco-Motion • Sylvie Vartan • Sylvie • 09:01

My Boy Lollipop • Millie Small • Hits of the '60s • 09:03

My Boyfriend's Back • The Raveonettes • Pretty In Black • 09:05

Danceland (Come With Me) • The Garrys • Surf Manitou • 09:07

Shooting at the Moon • Mariel Buckley • Everywhere I Used to Be • 09:11

Catch Fire • Jesse Roads • ______ • 09:14

Guess I'll See You • Jay Gilday • Faster Than Light • 09:18

Painless • Kaeley Jade • Turpentine • 09:22

She's A Wild Rose • The Misery Mountain Boys • Little Smoky • 09:26

Drownin' the Memory • The Give 'Em Hell Boys • Barn Burner • 09:29

Don't Take It Away • Conway Twitty • Sings • 09:33

Fly Back North • Roy Forbes (Bim) • Raincheck on Misery • 09:36

Peggy Sue • The Beach Boys • M.I.U. Album • 09:39

C'mon Everybody • The Backbeat Band • Backbeat Soundtrack • 09:41

Eleanor Rigby • The Ides of March • Vehicle • 09:44

Every Day • Celeigh Cardinal • Boundless Possibilities • 09:54

Underneath the Mango Tree • Diana Coupland • Dr. No Soundtrack • 10:00

Check In (Clean version) • Cibo Matto • Hotel Valentine • 10:03

Heart of Stone • Ashes & Dreams • Heart of Stone • 10:06

What Are You Going To Do With Yourself • Astral Swans • STRANGE PRISON • 10:11

Help the Aged • Pulp • This Is Hardcore • 10:15

I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All • Father John Misty • Mahashmashana • 10:19

Bigger Dreams • Mouraine • Bigger Dreams • 10:30

Black Every Day • Arlo Maverick • Black Everyday • 10:34

Here 4 U • Krystle Dos Santos • BLOOM/BURN • 10:37

Station • Shaela Miller • After the Masquerade • 10:41

Pestalozzi • Einsturzende Neubauten • Rampen (APM) • 10:45

Lost On You • LP • Death Valley • 10:50

O Candyland • Aaron Parker • O Candyland • 10:54

(03) 2024-02-08 - 06:00-08:00 - Classical Connections

G. P. Telemann: Concerto In D Major TWV51:D2 • La Stagione Frankfurt • Wind Concertos Vol. 4 • 06:01

F. Chopin: Sonata For Cello & Piano, Op 65 • Alisa Weilerstein & Inon Barnatan • Rachmaninoff & Chopin • 06:14

A. Vivaldi: Bassoon Concerto, RV 475 • L'Aura Soave Cremona • Concerti Per Fagotto III • 06:40

Turbulence • Christian Bernard • Black Lotus • 06:51

Black Lotus • Christian Bernard • Black Lotus • 06:54

Ascension • Christian Bernard • Black Lotus • 07:00

J. Brahms: Sonata #2, Op100 • Martin Risely & Janet Scott Hoyt • Three Sonatas For Piano And Violin • 07:04

W. A. Mozart: Sonata, K67 • I Musici De Montreal • Church Sonatas • 07:25

W. A. Mozart: Violin Concerto #3, K216 • Scott & Lara St. John • Mozart: The Knights • 07:30

F. Price: Adoration • Randall Goosby; Philidelphia Orch • Violin Concertos • 07:54

(04) 2024-02-15 - 06:00-08:00 - Classical Connections

• • •

^^ Listener and/or donor recommendations/requests ~~ Featured content

Future playlists to follow broadcasts

Explore my playlist history for other dates and programs

[critical-hit-00]

Love and Lotus Heads

Originally posted this on my Quotev, and decided to post it here too.

        Zhongli didn't expect Hu Tao to be playing with a child when he walked into the funeral parlour, it was an amusing sight to him.

The small child was wearing a black dress that had little ghosts stitched around the hem, black and red striped tights, and a small hat that matched Hu Tao's. The amber eyed man took note of the child's eyes. They were identical to Hu Tao's, even with the daisy shaped pupil.

The girl looked around seven or eight, and her brown hair was similar to Hu Tao's but with much smaller pigtails. 

Zhongli thought she was a very cute kid.

The director noticed Zhongli and waved him over.

"Mr. Zhongli! This is my little sister, (Y/n)!"

(Y/n) looked up at Zhongli, and a blush quickly spreaded over her cheeks.

She looked back down and buried her face in the ghost plush Hu Tao had given her.

The older female giggled at the girl's reaction and whispered something in her ear, causing another furious blush and a loud 'I do not!'

Hu Tao narrowed her eyes and laughed upon remembering something. "Hey Mr. Zhongli, would you be able to take (Y/n) around Liyue harbour for the day? She hasn't really been having much exercise lately. And, there's a thing coming here today..."

Zhongli thought for a second. Obviously, he didn't want this child to see a body.

"Okay. I don't see why not."

Hu Tao smiled. "Good. Now (Y/n), this is Zhongli. You'll be with him today."

"But, I wanna stay with you..." (Y/n) said, tears in the corner of her eyes.

The older sister grimaced for a second before having a look on her face. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a baggie of Mora.

She handed it to her sister, who held it like it had the secrets of the universe.

"Why don't you take the mora and get a toy or some sweets?" Hu Tao said, a sweet smile on her face. 

(Y/n) giggled and smiled. "Okay!" Her mood had flipped.

Hu Tao looked at Zhongli expectantly as if telling him to go. Zhongli cleared his throat before making his way to the funeral parlour door, a small girl on his tail.

The man held the door open for (Y/n) as she scrambled out, desperate to get treats.

A silence followed the two as Zhongli led (Y/n) around the harbour. The ex-archon was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a small hand grip his. 

He looked down and saw (Y/n)'s hand holding his hard. He couldn't help but smile happily at her.

Compared to his last interaction with a child, this was going swell. Zhongli cringed at remembrance of his meeting with Qiqi.

"Hello... Little girl."

He shook his head.

"So, where do you want to go first?" Zhongli asked, crouching down to (Y/n)'s height.

The girl blushed at seeing this very attractive man in front of her face.

"I- I don't mind, Mr. Zhongli." (Y/n) replied quietly.

"How about we go to Wanmin restaurant and see if they have any sweets for you?"

(Y/n) nodded her little head, pigtails bouncing up and down. 

The two walked to the restaurant, and Zhongli picked (Y/n) up and held her gently in his arms. After some consideration, (Y/n) decided she wanted three lotus heads. 

Chef Mao handed the girl her snacks and took the mora with a smile.

Despite only meeting mere minutes ago, Zhongli and (Y/n) were getting along just swell. The man continued to carry the girl to the toy stand, and there they picked by a fluffy rabbit teddy, that made (Y/n) squeal with happiness when she got it.

The father-n-daughter looking duo began running Zhongli's errands. He just needed some noctilucous jade and some milk. For a while, they walked around the harbour, picking up some Glaze Lilies and sharing stories.

They headed to Liuli Pavilion for lunch. (Y/n) scoffed down her Stone Harbour Delicacies with a smile, while Zhongli slowly ate his noodles. 

As a final destination, the male took (Y/n) to Wanwen bookhouse, to have a browse, but he ended up getting her the fourth volume of Rex Incognito, as she said that was the one she didn't have.

Zhongli carried a sleeping (Y/n) back to the funeral parlour, using her curled up position as a sort of bowl, to hold the items they had bought. 

Hu Tao greeted the two with a freaky smile.

"How was she?" 

"She behaved. No tears." Zhongli said, handing the sleeping girl to her sister, while picking up the items while following Hu Tao inside the parlour. 

"That's good. What did she get?"

"Three lotus heads, a rabbit teddy, some Glaze Lilies and volume 4 of Rex Incognito."

"Oh she's been begging me to get her that book." Hu Tao said, stroking her sister's hair, she pointed at a couch.

"Sit down Mr. Zhongli."

The man sat. 

"I do want to thank you again for looking after my baby sister. It means a lot."

Zhongli was taken aback. Hu Tao never spoke like this.

The attention of the two was drawn to the stirring girl in Hu Tao's arms.

The older female loosened her grip around the girl and gently sat her on the couch, next to Zhongli.

(Y/n) slowly opened her eyes and blinked at Zhongli, her face blossoming with red. 

Looking away she let her face burn in shame while her sister laughed at her.

"I knew you did!" Hu Tao cried.

(Y/n) puffed her cheeks and slid off the couch. She stared Zhongli dead in the eyes then grabbed a Lotus head. 

Clumsily, she got down on one knee, before presenting the older man with the Lotus head. 

"Mr. Zhongli. Will you promise to marry me when I'm older?!"

Hu Tao fell on the floor in hysterics. 

Zhongli took the green snack from the girl's hands and smiled. "We'll see, won't we?"

[rosecrowned]

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐈𝐓'𝐒  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃  𝐓𝐎  𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐘  𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐄  𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇  𝐎𝐅  𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐑  𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐌𝐒  𝐓𝐎  𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋.  So  keen  to  ignore  history,  so  violent  towards  those  who  do  not  scoff  at  the  past.  Margaery  was  always  taught  the  the  past  is  something  worthy  of  its  remembrance  and  that  only  by  honoring  what  came  before  can  they  bring  about  a  brighter  future.  A  history  forgotten  is  a  history  repeated.  Yet  it  feels  more  and  more  like  her  fellow  Númenóreans  have  forgotten  where  they  came  from  and  why  they  live  upon  their  island.  It  was  a  gift  from  the  Valar,  the  very  ones  whose  names  are  now  mocked  openly  by  those  who  begrudge  anything  tied  to  elvenkind.  What  fools  they  are.  Do  they  not  see  it  in  the  buildings  around  them,  in  the  shapes  of  the  glassworks,  the  very  stones  beneath  their  feet?  It  is  all  tied  to  this  past,  this  former  kinship  between  elf  and  man,  yet  they  play  ignorant  to  it  all  for  the  sake  of  spite.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ If  only  it  was  mere  forgetfulness  to  cause  them  to  behave  in  such  a  way.  ❞  No,  it  is  something  deeper.  An  unseen  hand  shifting  the  tide,  a  puppeteer  who  tugs  the  strings  of  the  people  as  he  sees  fit,  though  perhaps  that  invisible  force  has  made  himself  more  known  as  of  late.  Too  many  overt  moves  for  Pharazon  to  disguise  from  an  attentive  eye  such  as  hers.  ❝ Unfortunately,  I've  discovered  as  of  late  that  there  are  those  among  us  who  stoke  this  unrest  on  purpose  to  suit  their  own  political  appetites.  To�� have  ambition  is  one  thing,  but  to  sabotage  one's  own  people  for  power's  sake  .  .  .  I  cannot  fathom  the  selfishness  required  to  do  so.  ❞  How  unfortunate  it  is  indeed that  the  brother  of  the  great  King  Elros  must  arrive  only  to  see  everything  he  built  turned  to  this,  where  the  descendants  of  those  who  once  treated  faithfully  with  the  elves  would  now  scorn  and  shun  them.  A  bright  smile  shines  upon  Margaery's  face  regardless,  a  nod  of  courtesy  given  to  acknowledge  his  respect.

ㅤㅤㅤ❝ You  humble  me  with  your  words,  and  the  grace  you  have  shown  my  people  since  your  arrival.  Rest  assured,  your  brother's  dream  lives  on  with  many,  and  the  Faithful  are  not  easily  silenced.  I  hold  hope  that  your  presence  will  help  change  the  minds  of  those  who  have  turned  as  well.  ❞  For  the  briefest  moment,  jade  eyes  wander  astray,  cast  towards  the  entry  to  the  balcony  to  make  sure  there  are  no  eavesdropping  courtiers.  Assured  that  her  words  will  not  be  heard,  she  steps  closer,  turning  to  look  over  the  city  below  as  she  whispers  in  Quenya,  ❝ Things  are  more  dire  here  than  they  appear.  Ar-Pharazôn  likes  to  say  that  we  are  entering  a  new  age  of  prosperity,  but  he  is  as  a  snake  amongst  a  garden,  poised  to  bring  ruin  while  everyone  is  distracted.  ❞

❝ I’m afraid our people have forgotten their history. It was your brother who led us as our first king into an age of prosperity, yet many have turned so harshly against elven influence. ❞ (@rosecrowned)

The   Half-Elf   stood   by   the   arched   balcony,   the   weight   of   millennia   pressed   into   his   calm   but   steady   bearing.   Margaery   Tyrell's   words,   spoken   with   the   grace   of   her   station,   echoed   in   the   air   between   them.   Her   gaze   was   bright,   her   tone   bold,   and   yet   her   words   carried   the   melancholy   of   someone   who   understood   the   fleeting   nature   of   memory   among   mortals.

For   a   long   moment,   Elrond   did   not   answer.   His   gaze   traveled   over   the   city,   the   shimmering   cascades   and   the   busy   streets   where   the   people   lingered   still.   Finally,   he   turned   to   her,   his   gray   eyes   deep   and   thoughtful,   as   if   he   held   within   them   the   entire   weight   of   history.   "History,"   he   began,   his   voice   measured,   "is   a   fragile   thread,   Lady   Tyrell.   Men   weave   it   to   suit   their   needs,   often   forgetting   the   loom   upon   which   it   was   spun."   His   expression   softened,   though   it   was   touched   by   sorrow.   "What   you   say   is   true.   The   memory   of   the   First   Age   wanes   as   the   light   of   the   Eldar   dims   in   Middle-earth."

Elrond   moved   closer   to   her,   his   hands   clasped   before   him   in   a   gesture   of   thoughtfulness.   "It   is   not   bitterness   that   compels   me   to   speak   thus,   but   understanding.   Mortals,   with   their   brief   lives,   look   forward,   seeking   new   hope.   The   Eldar,   who   bear   both   the   grief   and   beauty   of   eternity,   cannot   so   easily   sever   themselves   from   the   past.   And   so,   a   gulf   forms,   one   that   cannot   be   bridged   by   words   alone."

He   inclined   his   head   slightly,   his   gaze   resting   on   her   with   quiet   respect.   "That   you   remember,   and   speak   so   boldly   of   it,   honors   your   lineage   and   your   wisdom,   Lady   Tyrell.   I   would   not   ask   that   men   or   women   forsake   their   path,   only   that   they   do   not   forget   how   it   began.   You   offer   me   hope   that   my   brother's   dream   and   people   survive   beyond   his   years."

[sourrcandy]

KILL YOUR DARLINGS ; writing snippet ↳ chapter 03. day and night

kyd current wc: 5412 // cw: mentions of death (edit inspo by @oskervos)

From the outside, Jade Citadel is a palace carved in white jade, a tower fit for royalty. But on the inside, layers of levels are carved within the stone, an indestructible fortress of fossil stones. Aurelia has never dared to venture below water level, the dark tunnels below ground claustrophobic and far more ancient than the empire itself.

Death leads her down the stairs like they have done this a thousand times. And they let out a chuckle when they emerge into a cryptesque chamber, saying, “I assume you have never been here before, Gongzhu.” When she doesn’t reply, they beckon her forward, arms stretching out as if they are a presenter. “Welcome to Porcelain Hall, where ancient fallen warriors lay and are remembered for their sacrifice. But I suppose the remembrance part of it is forgotten.”

“This is Porcelain Hall?”

She doesn’t mean for her words to sound mocking, but the look Death gives her sends chills down her spine. Pressing her lips together, she opts to look around the chamber.

Intricate interweaving columns arch up to the ceiling, perfectly polished and stone white. A circular set of stairs sits in the middle, a delicately carved sculpture of a warrior with a fox curled around their ankles sitting on each side to face the middle. Stepping up carefully, Aurelia approaches the tall imposing statue that stands in the landing of the steps, the carving stretches towards the ceiling and depicts a pair of warriors back to back with fossilised briars winding up to bind them together. There is an opening between the two warrior sculptures.

With bated breath, Aurelia takes a few steps forward, and finds herself staring straight into a pond of rainbow water.

“That’s it?”

Death laughs, a nightmarish black mist bursting from within their gown and leaking around to surround the pond in a boiling black liquid. “You seem to have high expectations.”

Aurelia scoffs, crossing her arms to peer into the pond. It shimmers under the glow of the white jade, reflecting a light against the walls. She sees herself in the crystal clear water, a still prism mirror of liquid that ripples at her feather-like touch when she hesitantly skims a finger over the water. It is a warmth that pricks her fingertip, a tingling sensation.

“Tick tock, little princess, you don’t want to be late, do you?” Aurelia catches the faintest trace of a sly smile on Death’s skull, their jaw lifting ever so slightly, just as she feels the sudden push on her back. And she is falling headfirst into the colourful darkness of the pool.

gen tag!! @kazino, @halcionic, @candymillk, @sautrns, @cianawrites, @janaisvu, @ninazeniks, @ambrosiadarling, @perditism, @varkolak, @seasteading, @lasbrumas, @solariumarcade

[madamichaicha]

Your Tuesday Taste...

Hello my lovelies,

Here is a little excerpt from the Madara x Sakura story I’ve been working on. I’m nearly halfway through and it’s almost 11k words. So hopefully this will quench your thirst... for now. 

Happy reading 💋

..............................................................................................................................

Despondent, she leaned back against a tree, her dress pooling around her frame, hugging her like a blanket of remembrance. Forcing her tired eyes open, Sakura watched the clouds above slowly drift by.

“How appropriate,” she scoffed, her voice cracking with emotion.

They keep moving on, while I'm stuck here. By myself.  

As the sun began to set, Sakura pulled her knees up to her chest, sniffling as she hugged them tightly. Alone in the thicket of cherry trees, she sat, the distant roar of the waterfall lulling her to sleep. She was tired of thinking, wishing for sleep to find her quickly, thus releasing her from the confines of her own mind.

A fire's flame heated her face, its gentle warmth causing her exposed skin to tingle. Listening to the crackling of embers, Sakura felt cozy and safe, humming appreciatively as she pulled the blanket up to her chin.

When did I climb into bed?

Drowsy lids struggled to open themselves, but even through her blurry vision, Sakura could tell she was unfamiliar with her surroundings. Immediately on guard, she popped up, scanning the interior of the dark, cave-like room she found herself in. She wasn't sure how she got here, or where 'here' was, but she was positive she didn't get there by herself.

Sitting up, she swung her feet down to the floor, sitting on the edge of the cushioned sofa in front of the stone fireplace. Squinting her jade orbs, she used the dim light of the fire to get a better visual of her environment. Sloughing off the blanket that had covered her, Sakura realized she was still in her wedding kimono, swallowing at the reminder of what had initially brought her so far from the village.

A clap of thunder reverberated through the stone walls that encapsulated her, its sudden rumble causing her to flinch. Slipping a hand under her dress, she retrieved the kunai hidden on her thigh holster, gripping the handle firmly as she slowly stood, ready for action. With the fire being the only source of light, it was easy to see the sides of the dungeon-like room, but the ends were too dark to estimate its depth accurately.

“Put down your weapon,” a dark voice called out to her from the shadows.

“Why would I do that?” Sakura responded firmly, tightening her grip around the kunai as she strained to see through the pitch black cavern.

“Trust me. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be awake right now.”

“Why should I believe you?” she answered sternly.

“There's a storm outside,” the deep voice reflected from the depths of the cave.

“So?”

“Do you think I'd save a sleeping person from a storm if I had any ill will towards them?”

Sakura knew he was right, the fact that he had carried her to wherever they were now and took the time to cover her by the fire was proof enough that she was not in any immediate danger. But it didn't mean she had to trust this faceless person. He remained hidden, which made her think he had something to hide. Deciding to drop her weapon for now, she re-sheathed her kunai, her eyes never leaving the dark corner where the voice was coming from.

“So, why bring me here? What do you want?”

“Call me curious,” the man remarked cryptically.

“Curious... about?”

“About the crest you are wearing.”

“It's the Uchiha crest,” she admitted suspiciously, knowing it was one of the most famous family crests. Even civilians from other villages knew of this crest, it was no secret.

“I'm well aware,” the voice responded, intense and edged with its own suspicion. “I'm just curious as to why someone who is not an Uchiha would wear it.”

“Why would you assume I'm not an Uchiha?” Sakura clipped, wondering what this guy's deal was.

“I know you're not.”

[lesbian-toddhoward]

Let me tell you a story, and if you remember it well you’ll carry it wherever you go. It begins with a old man who lived by the sea.

His house was made of wood and stone and outside he kept many waratahs in his garden. Sea lavender crept up against his windows and the sound of waves echoed all around them.

Don‘t worry, he was never alone. He had his cats and books and garden for company. In the Morning, he would walk the length of the beach till his house was filled with shells he’d collected. In the afternoon, he would read books till he’d have to go down to the village to get some more. In the evening, he would sit outside with his waratahs and watch the sky till he new the names of all the constellations.

Sometimes his friends would visit him. He had many friends from around the world and they would bring him gifts from their home or travels. Arabic poems scented with chai, necklaces carrying carved-jade fishhooks, once a giant pine cone they’d found in the woods.

Other times they would send him letters about their day. They’d tell him about strange bars and palaces, eucalyptus forests and thrift shops. The old man smiled and kept the letters in a box. They’d ask him to join them on their adventures, to leave his beach, but the old man always declined politely and went to sit in his garden with his cat.

One day, when the evening was warm and sweet with pollen, the old man died.

His friends rushed to his house when they heard the news and stayed their for a long time to mourn. Eventually his body was buried under his waratahs, his house was cleared, and his cat was adopted by a local family.

Years later, a woman called Sonah visited the old man’s empty home. She was an old friend of his and wanted to visit his grave in remembrance. When she got there she was disgusted to see that waratahs had grown over and little crabs had made a home there. She began to move towards them, to clear the grave, when she stopped. She took a step back and gasped.

You see, Sonah realised her friend, the one who always gave her bottles of elderflower cordial when she visited and ended his letters with a sketch of his cat, had never died. He had become the earth which became the waratahs and became the crabs. He had become the ocean and the wind. When the earth was destroyed he would become dust, rock and stars. He would spread out across the universe, never truly dying.

The sun shone down brightly as Sonah smiled at the waratahs. Wiping away tears, she sat down in the garden and looked out at the ocean. She stated that way till the stars began to brighten on the horizon.

Sonah thought about her place in the universe as she watched the sea. She noticed how the waves rose up, tall and blue. She could measure them, see them, even smell the salt...and the wave would crash on the shore and vanish. The wave had disappeared but the water was still there. The wave was just a different way for the ocean to be for a little while. And when it stopped being a wave it returned home, back to where it’s from and where it belongs.

The sun had just begun to set and the crickets began to sing. Really, we don’t know what happens to the wave when it returns back to the ocean. Will it ever become a wave again?

Sonah looked out across the darkening sky. When it was her time to stop being a wave, she’d be ready to find out.

im gonna be honest with you chief im not reading all of this

[ink-splotch]

Wangxian + 45 (gift)

Five Times Wei Wuxian Was Hungry + Once When He Was Not 

1 

It was Wei Ying’s favorite spot to scrounge. The morning’s cook cut the vegetables carelessly-- there was always a good few mouthfuls to gnaw off the cabbage and radish ends, the onions and peppers. He remembered having roasted potatoes before, with his mother and father, but it was hard lighting fires. And as soon as things started smelling good, other people came, or dogs. 

Raw potatoes though-- they were barely sweet, crisp, and grainy. He chewed them more for entertainment than because they filled him up. He’d gotten a good instinct for which mouthfuls went the longest ways. Some things stuck to the ribs. 

Wei Ying curled up in a different hollow each night, a different rooftop or alley or meadow or tree, and ran his fingers over the curved ridges of his ribs. He counted them and thought of his mother teaching him arithmetic, moving little twigs and stones into place beside a fire. 

2

“Dinner was delicious.” 

Wei Wuxian managed not to flail off the roof. “Jiang Cheng, you’re so mean.” Past his brother’s ugly face, the moon was setting low over the wide, still ponds of Lotus Pier. 

“Well, dumbass, don’t piss off mom next time.” Jiang Cheng scooted slowly down the roof tiles. One day, they would have this down to an art, play light-footed games of tag at midnight. One day, they would huddle on these same tiles and watch their parents bleed out, holding hands. Wei Wuxian dropped down onto the wooden pathway, reaching up a hand to help, which Jiang Cheng ignored. “I tried to sneak you out some bao, but First Uncle caught me.” 

“So you do love me!” Wei Wuxian grinned at him, all of twelve and gangly with it. 

Jiang Cheng shoved him. “If you starve to a skeleton, who will be around for me to beat at swords?” 

“Who will be around to beat you, you mean--”

“Both of you!” 

At the hiss, Wei Wuxian latched onto Jiang Cheng’s startled flail of his arm. The ponds past them were still, painted with moonlight and pockmarked with lotus. 

Jiang Yanli waved at them from the open door of her room. “Come on, in here. You both tiptoe like elephants.” 

“It’s Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian explain, slipping into the room behind her. “I mean, he ate too much at dinner and now he’s going to bust through the floor into the lake.” 

“Sit down, sit down,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’ve been waiting for hours, listening for you.” 

“I was going to head down to town,” Wei Wuxian said. 

“No need for that,” she said. She lifted the lid off a clay pot on her desk. Light pork flavor wafted up and Wei Wuxian’s stomach grumbled. He poked at it, betrayed. 

“Have as much as you want,” Jiang Yanli said, reaching for the ladle. Her voice was soft, but it was always soft, even when they weren’t sitting in the dim light listening for creaks in the hallway. 

“What about me?” Jiang Cheng demanded. 

“You, too, A-Cheng,” she said. “If we run out, we’ll make a brave expedition to the kitchens to acquire more mission materiel.” 

Her eyes sparkled even in the low lights. Wei Wuxian liked this so much better, the slyness in her eyes as she teased her brother, than the way she sat quiet in the daylight, peeling lotus seeds with shaking fingers, while her mother rose up like a bonfire. 

There was a creak from the hallway. Wei Wuxian would have counted it for a mouse in the night, but Jiang Yanli’s head shot up. “That’s mother, coming to check up on me. Quick, both of you, out the window. Sorry, I-- quickly, now.” 

That night, Wei Wuxian lay in bed with a still empty stomach-- an old feeling, a familiar one. He’d last til morning, easy, he knew that. 

But this was unfamiliar, even now: his palms still felt the ghost of heat, of a warm bowl cradled in them, smuggled through the darkness and meant for him. 

3

“Ai, Lan Zhan, you didn’t think to pack anything to eat? So thoughtless. Even those Qishan bao would be acceptable. I mean, I know I told Nie Huaisang they tasted burnt, but that was mostly lies. And if we’re stuck here much longer, I’d even eat that terrible bitter Gusu soup!” 

Lan Zhan’s head was tipped back against the rough stone of the cave, eyes closed. Firelight played softly over the ridge of his jaw, the column of his neck. He didn’t respond to Wei Wuxian, not even to the bit about the soup. 

Wei Wuxian sprawled where he could, trying to find a comfortable bit of ground while keeping an eye on Lan Zhan. “I ate every bowl I was given, when I was there,” he told Lan Zhan. “So I know what I’m talking about. Your clan doesn’t know how to eat. One day, I’ll take you to Lotus Pier, and you’ll see.” 

4

At first the noise distracted him from the emptiness-- from the hunger, yes, but also from the quiet lack where his golden core once had been. It felt silent inside of him, that void under his belly, the way he hadn’t felt silent in years. 

Spirits called for vengeance, for justice and fury, for freedom and power. Beneath the black cloud of that rage, there were quieter voices too-- asking for rest, for remembrance, for respite. 

Beneath it all, though, he still had a body, however empty. He found water dripping down the cliff face. He dug up roots and caught rats. He lit fires to roast them. He figured that everything that could scare him already knew how to find him. 

He remembered how it felt to wither, day by day. He watched his body shrink and hollow, familiar.

The spirits called for vengeance and he agreed. The spirits cried for justice and he promised it. His body begged for sustenance and he told it to wait. There were more important things. 

5

Lil Apple reached out his neck, trying to snap his big ugly teeth at some greener grass growing off the path. “Ah, yeah, you hungry, you spoiled beast?” Wei Wuxian said, trying to tug him forward. “I gave you my last bit of melon this morning.” 

Wei Wuxian managed to drag the donkey a few strides further before he gave up, sagging against a tree while Lil Apple waded out into greener pastures. He brayed again and Wei Wuxian hoped it was joy, but suspected it was something a little more vengeful. 

“You’re lucky you can eat grass,” he called after him. 

They’d left a town with a water spirit problem five days ago--well, a town that had previously had a water spirit problem. They’d given him a bag of apples, a stack of flatbread, and a big meal before he’d left. He rolled the memory over his tongue-- creamy eggplant and salted fish, spicy enough even to satisfy him. 

It was days ago now, and that old familiar ache was curling under his heart. But there’d be a village around any corner now, a farm with a blight, or a merchant caravan looking for some peace of mind. 

Even if there wasn’t, he could go far longer than this without a shake to his legs or to his smile. He had. 

Even if the land was barren for miles, at the end of it he’d wash up in Caiyi town in time for loquat season. He’d climb the mountain by foot, palming the jade pass in his sleeve, and there would be a hot meal waiting for him when he arrived. 

But for now, the crickets were calling from the grass. Heat beat down from a wide, clear sky and Wei Wuxian closed his eyes. 

His body whispered for sustenance and he told it wait, wait, but this time it was a promise cradled warm and soft in his palms.

+1

“You’re not busy, are you?” Wen Ning said. 

Wei Wuxian glanced up from gnawing on the end of his calligraphy brush. It wasn’t an old bad habit of his, but he thought it might have been one of Mo Xuanyu’s. Also, the first time Lan Qiren had caught him doing it, he’d gone red in the face, so Wei Wuxian had rather leaned into it. 

“We don’t want to bother you,” Wen Ning went on, bobbing his head. “I know you’re doing important work…” 

“If I haven’t figured out how to balance this talisman yet-- and I haven’t,” Wei Wuxian said, wrinkling his nose at the crumbled papers beside him, “then it’s not going to happen tonight.” He leaned back, elbows on the wood floor of the inn. “What’s going on, Wen Ning? You and Sizhui get into trouble in the market?” 

“No, we had some good luck.” Wen Ning stepped finally through the door. “If you could come down to the…”

“Did you find something on the case?” Wei Wuxian leapt to his feet. 

“No, no,” Wen Ning said, following him down the stairs. One of the inn staff caught one look at Wen Ning and threw himself backward into an open room. “We just, I mean, I hope it’s not overstepping.” 

Down on the ground floor of the inn, Lan Sizhui looked up and smiled to see them. He rose from the table where he’d been laying out four bowls. “Wei-qianbei." 

"What's this, now?" Wei Wuxian said, glancing over the table. 

“Wen Ning has been telling me stories of when I was little,” Lan Sizhui said, settling his hands gently on the lid of the pot. He did most things gently, that kid, and it didn’t come from Lan Zhan, who was deliberate in every movement but rarely soft in the public eye, or Lan Qiren. It certainly didn’t come from Wei Wuxian. 

Wen Ning settled down opposite Lan Sizhui at Lan Sizhui’s encouraging nod, and Wei Wuxian realized-- it was his uncles. It was the way Lan Xichen had used to move quiet and kind through a crowded room. It was the way Wen Ning was so careful with his strength. 

“He told me about a day when he carried a little bowl of soup miles home from Yiling, so I could try it. It was cold by the time he got there, of course, but… I don’t remember it really.” Lan Sizhui pulled the lid from the pot, the rich scent rising up. “But helping Madam Wang in the kitchen, the smell-- I think I do remember, a little.” 

“We found lotus root in the market,” Wen Ning said. “And pork ribs, and the landlady here has a cousin from Lotus Pier. We thought…”

Wei Wuxian dropped down into a seat at the table, heavy and silent. He closed a hand over Wen Ning’s wrist, softly. 

“Have as much as you want,” Lan Sizhui said, reaching for the ladle. His voice was soft. 

-

When Lan Zhan got back to the inn, he found them still there, leaning over empty bowls and laughing about radishes. 

He paused in the doorway to take in the sight-- Wei Ying with his head thrown back; Wen Ning waving his hands while he talked, like he'd forgotten to shrink himself down; Lan Sizhui soaking it in like he had years of family to catch up on. 

Lan Zhan crossed the room to join them, Wei Ying spotting him when he got close. He was smiling already, but he smiled wider. "Ai, Lan Zhan, you're here! Sit down, sit down. We even saved you some soup." 

[sams-sass]

Time after Time

I heard the song “Time after Time” by Margaret Whiting and this idea just popped into my head. Thinking of doing a part two. 

Read Part Two: Part Two

GIF not mine

Summary: You and Dean are soul mates, but you may need to show him to prove it. 

Pairings: Dean x Witch!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, language 

The door was large and made of iron in front of you. You raised a fist and knocked three times. Seconds ticked by then he opened the door. His jade eyes met yours, and you almost melted. Seeing him after all this time was an overwhelming feeling. Overcome with joy and love, you took a step forward.

"Hold it right there, who are you?" Dean asked you. Remembering the conditions, you raised your hands in surrender.

“Hey, hubby.” You said with a small smile.

“Hubby?” Confusion clouded his handsome face.

“Dean, who is it?” Sam walked up the stairs and looked at you for the first time in ages.

“I’m your sister in law, Sam.” You said with a grin. Sam’s brow furrowed, his eyebrows coming together.

“Wait, you’re not saying that you’re my-“

“Wife.” You said proudly.

“My wife?!” Dean practically shouted.

"Are you going to let me in babe, it's getting rather chilly out here." Neither of the boys moved, so you brushed past them, walking down the stairs into the massive bunker.

"Sorry, it took me so long to find you this time. This place is very well hidden."

"Ok, who are you? What are you? You are not my wife. I do not have a wife, and what the hell do you mean "this time"" Dean said, his face hard. As much as he did not want to admit it, there was something familiar about you. The sway of your hair as you looked around the bunker, the way your hands moved to your heart when you saw him, the way you placed your hands on your hips. Familiar.

“Dean, I know it's hard to understand now, but I promise you we are married. Well, I guess not yet in this lifetime. We have been getting married every hundred, give or take a few, years since 1650. We are soul mates, destined to be together through all the lives we live. I usually find you sooner, and we get more time to fall in love, but as I said, this place is well hidden, and it took some serious mojo to find you. I am so happy I did; I missed you so much, Dean." You said, facing him. He stared at you; you looked deep in his eyes and tried to send him a reassuring smile.

"My name is Y/N, I am your wife, and I can prove it." You tore your eyes away from his to find Sammy.

"Sam, can you lead me to your kitchen, please." Sam only nodded and started walking. You gave Dean one last smile as you followed Sam. The kitchen was large; you couldn't wait to make Dean's favorite foods for him, pie, of course. You smiled to yourself as you ran your hands over the counter.

"I need a bowl and a glass to combine the herbs for the spell." You said, knowing exactly what reaction it would bring.

“The spell?” Sam asked questioningly.

“Spell? What are you a witch?” Dean came charging into the kitchen.

“Yes, I am. I’m a witch.” You sighed, placing your hands on your hips and facing them. Rolling your eyes, you tried to further explain.

"I am a natural white witch; I have never harmed anyone nor drawn any blood besides my own for the sake of the craft."

“The craft? I don’t like it.” Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, there's a fucking surprise. You never like it." You said, mocking his stance. Sam snickered behind Dean. Earning a smile from you and a bitch face from Dean.

"How do you think I found you? Why do you think I remember you and you don't remember me? I'm a witch. Every life, my only goal in life is to find you. My other half, we are each other's worlds, Dean. Now, I will whip up a spell that will help you remember, and you are going to drink it, and then you will remember me and all of the lives we have shared. Just like every other time." Dean didn't say anything, but you could see the wheels in his head-turning. See the light in his eyes sparkling.

“Sam, would you like me to make enough for you too?” Sam looked at you confused.

“Enough of what?”

“The remembrance spell, obviously.”

"Oh…well, what do I usually say?" He asked, and you smiled.

“Depends, I would say it is usually a yes.” You said. Surprised at how quickly he just accepted what was happening.

“Then yes.”

"What the hell, Sam!" Dean snapped, here we go. "We do not believe this shit; this is crazy. She's my wife? Reincarnation is real? All of a sudden? SHE'S MY WIFE?! No, absolutely not."

"We believe in crazier things all the time, Dean. We have an angel and Lucifer's son living with us. We have both died numerous times now. I say we just hear what she has to say."

“She’s a witch!”

"She seems….familiar, I don't know. I feel like I should trust her." As much as Dean wanted to argue, he couldn't help feeling the same way. Looking over at you, you were grinding herbs into the bowl, a look of concentration on your beautiful face. You licked your lips as you added the next ingredient, and Dean stopped. Everything he had ever learned in his broken life told him to push you out the door and never look back, but dammit, Sammy was right. There was something familiar about you, and Dean could already feel the pull of your souls coming together.

You stretched your hands over the bowl, “rursus animae adponentur" you said. A gust of wind blew the underground bunker, your hair blew around you, light emitted from your fingers as mist rose from the bowl. Placing two small glasses on the counter, you emptied the contents of the bowl into each one and walked over to the boys.

“I know this is a lot to process, but I promise it will all make sense when you drink this.” Sam took one of the glasses without question. Dean just stared at you longer, again, you looked into his jade eyes and tried to convey how much he meant to you through a look and a shy smile. He took the cup.

"I don't know if I can do this, Y/N." He said, looking at the floor. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek; at the physical contact, a feeling of electricity coursed through you. He felt it too, his eyes shot to yours, and he nodded.

"You boys are going to want to lay down for this; the memories come in a dream-like state." You warned them. You all moved back into the living room as they each took a chair.

"I'll be here the whole time; you'll be safe with me here. Always have been." You promised your two favorite people in the world. They both nodded, and Sam shot you a crooked smile. They both raised the glasses to their lips and drank the whole thing in one swig. Falling back into their chairs, you sat down and waited.

Dean shot up in a field. He looked around frantically for Sam, anything he could recognize. Then he saw you, walking on a dirt road. You were wearing long skirts and a bonnet on your head. He smiled when he saw you. He watched himself then walk over to you and bow in front of you. You covered your mouth with one hand as the other was trapped between his fingers. He kissed your hand and slowly raised his eyes to yours. You two spoke for a moment, then he pulled flowers from behind his back and presented them to you, "Damn, even in this life, I am smooth as silk." He thought to himself. You two walked off, and Dean followed; you sat by a pond sharing words of admiration and shy glances. Dean smiled at the site. He was then pulled from that memory to standing in the back of a church. A door opened, and he saw you emerge in a long and embroidered gown. You had on a tight corset that showed off your body, flowers were twisted into your beautiful y/h/c hair as you smiled warmly. Dean was utterly taken aback by how beautiful you were. He glanced at himself at the end of the aisle and saw Sam standing next to him. That Dean looked so in love it almost made Dean jealous that he didn't remember experiencing this before now. You two exchanged rings and shared a quick but loving kiss. Dean was once again ripped from his memory and thrown into another one. You two were in a cottage, and you were rolling around dough on a wooden table. A young child ran into the cottage, and you laughed as you picked him up into your arms, "Jamie," Dean whispered to himself, all the air was sucked out of his lungs as he remembered his childhood. He had your hair color that bounced in curls around his smiling face, but his eyes. His eyes were all Dean, green and deep. He was pulled into another memory with a blink of his eyes. Your screams echoed through the room; you were on the bed heaving your legs open as the midwife chanted in front of you. The air grew thick around Dean, the wind began howling outside, and in the room, Dean heard a rumbling sound. Panicked, he looked around, then he realized, you were a witch, your magic was doing all this. The candles all blew out, and your screams got even louder, then he heard the most beautiful sound. A cry, Dean saw your baby girl, "Selena," he breathed, tears filling his eyes.

Dean then shot up again, this time in a town. He looked around for you, anxious until he found you walking into a house with him. You were still in skirts and a bonnet, but this time your dress sleeves were shorter, almost at your elbow. The homes were larger, made of stone, and had actual floors in them instead of just dirt. He followed the two of you in a house in what Dean assumed was the kitchen. You were making the spell that he had just watched you make, and this time period Dean was FLOORED. He was staring, pacing, running his hands through his hair. For a second, Dean thought he would run out of the house, accuse you of witchcraft, and burn you right there in the middle of town. You touched him, and he calmed slightly, drinking the potion. When he awoke, he ran to you and grabbed you so tight Dean could feel it himself. You cried in each other's arms and promised each other to always remember, always be there. Dean traveled through this life with them as well. Once again seeing the same boy and girl as your children, Jamie and Selena. After Selena was born, he was pulled into another memory. He found you two walking down the street, arm in arm. Sam rode over to them on a horse and dismounted. He turned and helped down the pretty young girl off his horse as well. The four of you walked through the town laughing and sharing stories. Dean closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was somewhere new.

You two were gazing into each other's eyes, a glass on the table next to you. He had just drunk the potion. The world looked similar to the one you had just left. This life was seen in images of love as well—you cooking a meal in the fireplace. Your children were running into his arms, laughing and smiling. Dean took it all in, marveling at the lives you two had created.

When Dean came to again, he was in another house. You were in a blue dress that was tight up top and then flowed at your hips. Your hair was done in large curls around your gorgeous face. You had on red lipstick and heels. Dean felt his lungs tighten at the sight of you. You were once again making the potion in front of him. Dean thanked god Sam wasn't here to see him. Dean was in a suit that looked alright. His pants, however, must have touched his fucking nipples. They were so high. His hair was greased back, a cigarette hung out of his mouth. This must be the 1940s. He drank the liquid without question after sending a wink your way. After he awoke, he pulled you to him, the two of you falling into laughter mixed with tears, smiles, and soft kisses. Once again, you two had your two beautiful children, Jamie and Selena. It was always the same, he realized. You found him, sought him out, and pleaded with him to drink the potion. To bring him back to you. You were right; you two were always younger when you first met. He hoped that nothing was disturbed because of how long it took you to find him. He couldn't wait to wake up, couldn't wait to get back to you. Dean closed his eyes one more time.

When he opened them this time, he was back in the bunker. Sam and you were in a tight hug, you were laughing, and Sam looked like he might cry. Dean stood up, and Sam put you back on the floor and you turned to face him. He took three long steps to you, cupped your face in his large hands and crashed his lips to yours. Everything came rushing back as you both held on to each other. You broke apart and started laughing while tears of joy fell down both your faces. He wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you. For waiting for me. For finding me. You are my whole life. I want everything we had then, Jamie and Selena. I want it all. I love you.” He said, his face inches from yours.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Dean Winchester.” You said through tears.

"I will always find you, time after time." You promised him as he pulled you into another mind-bending kiss.

[askintothevoids]

This Depressing Time of the Year

Tw vampires, fake holidays, mentions of death, grief, loneliness, crying, (kinda angsty [nothing too bad I promise] with a happy ending)

It was Virgil’s first Morsenn Jades completely alone. He had Roman, yes, but Roman had his own holiday to celebrate, even then he doubted Roman wanted any part of this.

Besides, Morsenn Jades wasn’t a time of joy, it wasn’t to celebrate the new years, newfound hope, or the joy of family. It was to remember, to grieve.

It was a pteranann holiday, one you weren’t to forget.

Back in Virgil’s youth, it was common to hear the townspeople sing the songs of christmas as children played in the snow after being the gift of freetime. Not him though, not his sister either.

They sat at the lazy fire dressed in their Morsenn cloaks, jade strung along their shoulders, crowns of berries and leaves atop their heads.

Their father was desperate to follow their mother’s wishes, which lead him to rereading and taking notes of her past hopes. He was certainly and desperately trying to ease his saddening holiday onto his children.

Yet young Virgil kept his head down, trying to feel remorse. That was day one, Remorse. Being eight or so at the time, it was hard to think of things to feel remorseful about. That biscuit he snatched from the jar yesterday wasn’t something his little mind felt bad for doing, but it would do in the meantime.

Anne would longingly look out the window, watching the human children play in the fresh snow. Her hair was messy, and berries smushed. She would quickly look away whenever their father checked on them. Their father’s face looked guilty for making them stay inside, but it’s what their mother wanted, so he followed what she had laid out for him.

Day two was a day of grief. Virgil remembers the day he spent it with his sister. He wore the black and white jades of their deceased father and missing mother, along with an old fur shawl over his cloak (an old family heirloom for the head of the household). He made sure the garland around his body was tied tightly, to show his grief for his father’s recent passing.

Though, saying he spent it with Anne was a nicer way for him to say that Anne dressed in her Morsenn cloak but quickly left to go drinking with Remus A. and Roman A. Virgil was certainly the more..sensitive one of the two, he didn't scold Anne for leaving but couldn’t help to be pained by her quick disappearance. So Virgil sat in an inn, grieving, his pale face covered in tear tracks. Though a lovely lady did sit with the gentleman, and shared a spot of tea with him. So perhaps, Virgil wasn’t completely alone.

Day three was day of remembrance. Virgil spent it with his Uncle and two Aunts. The ship population was primarily Ptera, so it stayed quiet apart from a few sniffles and sobs. Virgil was one of the ones crying. His Uncle Johnny hugged him. He was sturdy, quietly strong, it reminded him of his father. Perhaps that made him cry a little harder, but it was comforting, and that was okay.

Day four was a day of life.

On present day, Virgil was clothed in his finest suit, his Morsenn cloak, and the aforementioned items worn at this depressing time of the year.

He had encouraged Roman to celebrate with the others, not wanting to sadden him. So he sat alone as Roman celebrated Hanukkah with Patton, Janus and Remus while they celebrated Christmas. Logan celebrated nothing, so he endured the cold by making sure he was cuddled into Patton’s side for much of the evening.

Virgil wasn’t in the holiday story of the century. There would be no coming together as a family, gift givings or feasts. No christmas past, present, or future.

But he did appreciate the life around him, it was hard not to. Especially when one of the living things around you is a tall handsome gentleman, with a certain fiery flare for the dramatic. Roman would be returned to their area of the void when the celebration ended, and sit with Virgil.

“You alright, darling?” Roman worriedly spoke.

Darling, a term of endearment used when Roman was worried, Virgil learned that from the day he nearly got his lights knocked out.

“Yeah, just,” Virgil paused, “Thinking about the giant dum dum next to me.”

Roman laughed.

“I love you.”

Roman interlocked their hands, as Virgil mumbled an ‘I love you’ into his shoulder. He nudged his head to Roman’s, twiddling one of the jade stones in his free hand.

“Happy Hanukkah, Ro.”

“Grateful Morsenn Jades, Virge.” Roman replied, “That-that is the right phrase, right?”

Virgil giggled, “Yeah, yeah it is.”