#still my wet evil wives

[ribaiore]

Every girl has their spirit animal character who is the white noise in your brain

[hoeforhao]

🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎ pt.2

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: heavy angst, fluff towards the end, mentions of childhood trauma, sort of arranged marriage? cheol and reader have a daughter together, lots of dad seungcheol content!!!

↷ summary: can trying to relive the childhood you never got to experience, through your daughter be the reason of your husband's irk?

↷ part: 2/4 pt.1, pt.3, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.4k+

↷ author's note: part 2 is here at last!! this time I told myself that no matter what I'll keep my promise and post on cheol's birthday 💌 + also part 3 would be like a bonus with quite a lot of smut😏 and comfort at the end obviously duh!

If you want to be added to this fic's taglist, drop a comment under this post ; my ask box is open too♡

"You didn't have to go along with Hannie's proposal you know. He's just naturally manipulative" shifting on the satin sheets beneath that were definitely fine enough to soothe your tired body, but nothing your aching soul, you lightly chuckled in order to make it seem like you were completely fine with cheol's demeanor towards you today, or rather everyday!

"I agreed because I wanted to y/n,not because I was influenced into" seungcheol's firm hands hesitantly creep up along your waist, sending sudden jolts of warmth throughout.

Isn't this all you've ever wanted, to be wrapped up in his embrace, take in his vanilla scent, while he purred like a small child on your neck...but you knew better....you knew these were the delusions that would only peel your heart apart into flakes, everytime you hoped of them coming true.

"But you can feel uncomfortable staying with me in a resort alone, that too without Hana accompanying us"

"You're my wife y/n"

The man behind you spoke while keeping you in his embrace, hope still flaming in his orbs waiting for you to at least take his hand into yours...

But alas! He very well knew that the hurt he has caused you can even take up ages for him to fix.....well he wasn't in any sort of hurry, rather now completely ready to build an eternity with you, his beloved lady.

While cheol slipped into deep slumber, his arms still wrapped around you and his wet curls slightly brushing the skin of your back, that one line from him kept ringing in your head like a goddamn alarm clock.

"'You're my wife y/n' , did he just say that as a token or did he actually accept me as his wife, did he really melt, will i now finally get to live his love and be treated like how other men treat their lovely wives?"

Dang y/n stop expecting again you idiot. Do you wanna get yourself shattered into shards again!!!!

Amidst all these thoughts racing throughout your head, you didn't realize when you yourself welcomed sleep, wrapped up into cheol's nuzzle.

*********************************************

"Oh seungcheol i completely forgot to tell you two about this!" jeonghan's arms tug onto cheol's back, pulling the parade of you six to a halt, resulting into the older cocking up his head towards him.

"There's this staycation sort of my office is paying for only their best employees" han continues while flipping his long curly locks in the middle "at a resort call Diamond's Retreat where like couples with children can enjoy some leisure. They've a two day camp for the kids, while their parents treat themselves to some alone time with each other, away from the city and life's chaos, in each other's arms" him finishing the last part of the so called news with a teasing smirk on his face.

Seungcheol waited for Han to address as to what his office's trip had to do anything with him and his family.

"Since our other best employee Mingyu tskkk, is already out in Paris with his girlfriend, i was thinking if you three wanted to join us! The girls can have their fun while we enjoy our partners company" the petite looking man finally draws the concluding statement to his evil plan, hands tied tightly around his wife's waist.

"Seungcheol doesn't really do trips Han. We would rather like to pa-"

"Book us three in, we'll go" you were stopped in your tracks even before being able to keep your argument to the duo infront, as your husband made his decision while his arms snaked right around your torso, pulling your head slightly onto his form.

While you were shocked to see cheol showing you physical affection in public, the man beside you was rather concerned and hurt about his own wife not being comfortable in his embrace, trying to squirm her way out somehow.

**********************************************

The day of the trip was finally here and you were literally sweating through your white shirt at the thought of dropping off your daughter at the camp for TWO WHOLE DAYS! not that you were too sad about not having her running by your side all the time,but more cause you were strained about being left alone with her dad.

It has been over ages that you spend your time only with seungcheol by you side, you didn't know what to do, what to say...or more appropriately what to say that won't trigger his irk towards you. YOON JEONGHAN YOU DEVIL CHILD I'LL COME BACK AT YOU FOR THIS TRIP TO YOUR DAD'S ABODE.

"MOM!" a tweak from Hana's small fingers brings you back to this earthly void "I'm leaving with Byul now! Where's my goodbye kiss hmph!!! Daddy already gave me his" a pout paints hers plumply lips - no dna test would be needed to prove that she's the choi seungcheol's daughter....seeing how all her postures are literal copies of her dad, starting from those supple cherry lips to those glistening bambi eyes.

"Momma is so sorry bun,how about a bonus kiss as a punishment!" you peck your daughter's cheeks twice, slowly bringing her down from her father's arms, his hands brushing with your warm ones in the process.

Seeing Hana slowly melt with the horizon, hand in hand with her bestfriend Byul, while both of them excitedly made their way to the adventure camp, made you drop your heart into the pit of your stomach. Realization finally hits you - you're now completely alone with cheol!

"Get all nestled in quick, we've planned for a small sunset date by the rooftop deck. Be sure to be present by 5pm sharp, okay you Ms McTwisp" jeonghan places a playful slap along your back, earning an unnoticed glare from the other man.

Striding towards your room in as small steps as possible for a human to be taking, you unwillingly made your way to the room alloted for the two of you.

"What can be even worse than this already was right?" That was you before you pushed open the gloomy wooden doors to reveal a room decked up in white peonies and silk all around, making it look no less than the mating abode of two doves.

"I..I'll ask room service to clear all...all of this out" you tried to clear out the air before any offensive remark from him would ruin your flutter again, but...

To your surprise, seungcheol looked way to calm and maybe even a little happy at thr sight, the slight curl of his lips giving it out for him.

"It's okay y/n. It's just some decorations! Besides-" cheol takes a little halt, debating whether to say his thoughts out aloud or not.

"Besides they look really pretty, like you" the last two words were only for his ears to perceive, as you were already taken aback by his sudden gentle approach towards you.

After having a hard time trying to make it through the date with that annoying ass bestfriend of yours, for almost half an hour, it was finally time for dessert which in turn meant that he'll get to enjoy your company alone, away from any outside interference.

Although seungcheol would be lying if he said that the entirety of this thirty minutes meal was a torture for him - not when you were laced up in the prettiest sundress he has ever seen anyone flaunt ever. Was it that the dress was too finely woven? No! It was you, that soft smile of yours, those satin black locks half tied up into a white ribbon,that constantly kept distracting you from concentrating on your plate, those glittery siren eyes of yours is what made you look like a moon goddess in such a simple attire.

Oh how he wishes to be seated by your side, tucking away those stubborn strands behind your ears, with his own forefinger, to be feeding you that soufflé himself and to be gatekeeping those cheek pouches only for him to view.....he could never get enough of how godly yet cute you looked while devouring down each and every food bit on those porcelain plates.

"Thanks for the arrangement guys! Now if you would excuse use, I would like to take y/n on a walk by the beach" seungcheol pushes up from his chair, quite frustrated that the reason why he even agreed for this vacation, to spend time with his wife and try to make things right one page at a time, was not being attended to.

An approving nod and a victorious smile flashes onto jeonghan's face, knowing he has now been able to push forward the maneuver for what he actually tricked off poor Mingyu away to Paris, only so that he can somewhat try to mend his bestfriend's family.

"But we need to spen- " for the second time this week cheol banishes you from your right go finish your sentences, as he wraps your hands into his big ones, pulling you two into the beach encircling the property.

The warm sands beneath your feet, the sea breeze running through your hair while your dress flowed along the wind's patterns, made your heart swell up with utter joy. Even though the past few days have taken a big bite out of your heart, there's nothing that a walk along the beach at sunset can't fix right? That too if your husband is now following you like a puppy from behind, without your notice.

"Y/n?" a coo as gentle as a mourning dove graces you ears, while the cool waters traces finds their way onto your feet. You turn around to seungcheol now standing few inches away from you, his head drooped down like a flamingo, hands fidgeting with one another.

"Yes, Seungcheol?"

"Can you....can you call me cheol again pls? Like the old times?" your breath hitches at this sudden approach from him, unsure of what was about to come next.

"I know I messed up...no not even messed up i completely fucked up our relation...i treated you as nothing more than just my child's mother, but" you could now hear soft sobs coming from his direction, as seungcheol's voice starts to become unstable.

"That's not how i feel for you y/n. I don't know what took over me these two years...I won't try to justify myself by saying oh it was work stress or oh i was just not used to being a rookie father and all that....instead i really want to just mend our bond and be a happy pride. Pls?" Seungcheol's eyes finally travel up from the yellow ground beneath to the dark of your eyes, tear drops quite visible around their corners.

Oh how you just wanted to run into his arms, pull him into the warmest hug ever, pat his head and tell him that it's okay....everyone makes mistakes. What matters is them realizing it and trying to put things back into their place again. But your hope was played with way too many times to trust him this fast. What if he yanks you away, what if he gets disgusted by your touch, what if he's just saying all this for the sake of his daughter....

So, to protect yourself from further hurt, all you did was nod at him, flashing him a soft assuring smile, while walking away to sit on the moist sand beneath, ready to take in the grandeur of the sun pour its all into the sea.

Even tho all seungcheol wanted at that moment was to be wrapped into your bosom, he knew it would take a hefty amount of time for you to forgive all his conducts. A small sigh parted his lips as he waddled down the beach himself, leaving his pawprints as a proof of his new beginning, while sitting down by you to enjoy the sunset, hand in hand with his wife.

This newfound feeling of closeness with cheol was confusing yet fulfilling for your craving soul, cuz who could've imagined that you would be sitting on the beach by his side, fingers intertwined while the sun disappeared amongst the tangerine marshmallows before you.

"You know y/n, that day i didn't mean what i said. I love to see you play with Hana like a kid, reliving the childhood you never had, giggling and jumping like a little kiddo. My heart swells up with joy everytime, to see my wife and my daughter like that. To see my family all happy. I'm so sorry for being a jerk. I really don't know what gets into me sometimes, but all I know is I just want to build an eternity with you, have a small content family with my loved one" seungcheol literally blurts out everything in a breath. Did jeonghan possess him or what.

You didn't know whether it was doubt or hurt or the urge to not melt away so easily speaking, but instead of accepting his apology all you said was-

"We should get going now. It's getting dark." Dusting off the loose sand from the back of your white dress, you gently released yourself from seungcheol's grasp.

An immediate frown replaced his content face, from both the feeling of your warmth leaving his body as well as your indifference towards him. He rightfully deserves it tho. "Y-yeah let's go". Seungcheol and stuttering are two things you have never thought could go hand in hand. Like ever. At least not infront of you.

Overwhelmed with all these fresh senses, you quietly follow cheol on his stride towards your room ; the moonlight hitting on his orbs, radiating off a glint even diamonds can't be compared to, the moist breeze from the waters slightly wetting his locks making them stick to his glistening skin, those rosy plumps sticking out into a small pout....oh how dreamy can this man even look huh...even the moon god would be struck by how his light carves out the features of this fallen archangel.

"You know staring at anyone like that for this long, is considered rude" your trance his broken off by his deep voice, laid with a tint of allurement, as he twisted the knob of your room's door, "but you're my wife, I'm all yours to look at"

"I'm so so...sorry. I didn't mean to" you shy away from his glare, trying to quickly walk towards the couch, but seungcheol was way faster than you knew. Even before you could take a step towards your goal, cheol already has you trapped in his arms, your back hitting the cold surface of the door, while his knee rested between your legs.

"W-what are you doing, cheol" a warm wet pair of lips lands on yours as soon as the much longed for nickname makes its involuntary way out of your crevices.

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Vampire

Media The Artful Dodger (Pre Show Release)

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating SMUT

I sat on the top step as I waited eagerly, I tapped my boots against the wooden stair. I heard the clutter, clatter with the overhung chatter of people as they left having paid their coins, drunk their wine and watched a man lose a liver. And would now head home weary, woozy, and weirdly excited to their beds beside their wives. The Man in question, now a liver-short was ushered away by the paying family with a mix of emotions, joy from their loved one receiving such life-changing treatments, the sickness of having to watch it, and the fear of knowing both the hard road ahead for him of recovery and of course the Bill that would be dropping on their doorstep Monday morning. The last to leave was the town nurse who was often on hand to help with such business she left the office took her coat and hurried away out the door.

And that was my cue.

I scampered down the stairwell into the office and shut the large doors behind me, immediately the smell hit my nose of fresh blood.

The seats now sat empty, the table empty too, blood across the floor and even the wall. Amongst it all a weary Jack in his usual garb having just thrown his apron to the side to later briefly clean, his sleeves rolled up high his hands and forearms coated with dry and wet blood which he did attempt to dap off with a dirty rag which merely just seemed to move the dirt and bodily fluids around more. Even if he had worn the apron blood had still gotten to his clothes and he now stood tinkering about the room sorting his tools and such where he had moved them in his rushed work and how finally had the time to clean them off and return them to their proper places.

"How'd it go?" I asked

Momentarily he jumped "Oh fo- Y/n." He sighed

"What?" I giggled

"I- I bloody knew you'd be down here," He said before continuing with his work

"How'd you know?"

"Because you always find your way down here when I'm done working. I swear you have a sixth sense for when I've just finished sewing someone up," he said

"I like coming to visit when you're done with your work," I giggled as I fiddled with my fingers

"Ummm" he glared "Sure you do."

"I can't help it. I just like coming to visit," I giggled, I closed the gap between us and wrapped my arms around him letting my head on his back

"That's very sweet y/n." he said as he tapped my hands "What did you want then?"

I smiled and tugged him around to face me, as soon as he was faced with me I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss he happily kissed back as he settled his hands on my waist my hands slowly moved up finding their way into his roots and twisted my fingers into his hair and in response, he eagerly pulled my waist closer until our chest's where pressed against one another. Till we both pulled back for a breath.

"So? What did you want?"

"What do you think I want Doctor," I smiled as I took the tie around his neck in my hand and pulled it hard to drag his nose to my own and I kissed his nose, then down his jaw, and his neck nibbling and kissing.

"I swear you're a vampire." He chuckled playing with my hair

"Why?" I giggled and pressed my chest to his a little harder as I kissed

"You always show up as soon as I'm done with work like you've got a sixth sense, you always get so cuddly when I've been working, and you do this. You burrow yourself into my neck like you're trying to bite me!" he chuckled playfully and shifted his hips against my own

"Maybe I am a vampire," I giggled as I left a hickey on his neck

"Ahh! You evil little thing!"

"Evil?!" I pouted "That's not very nice Jack."

"You bit me!"

"Hummm that's not very nice," I whined as I pushed my bottom lip out

"If you're going to be a little vampire I'm allowed to tell you off for it" he smirked and rubbed his nose on mine

"Aren't you meant to be nice to me?"

"I think I'm being very nice, Shouldn't you be nice to me?"

"Alright." I smirked and tapped his nose playfully "I'll be nice. Maybe this way you won't be complaining when a part of you sits snuggly between my teeth," I smirked as I moved to my knees on the still bloody floor I made short work of his trousers and gently stroked his shaft with my hand as he leant against the desk leant his arms back excitedly

"So long as you don't bite my little vampire," he smirked

"No promises," I smirked as I took his shaft into my mouth and made sure to kitten lick my tongue across his head, he threw his head back and his jaw fell loose, his fingers gripped the edge of the desk hard as his lustful moans cascaded from his lips

"Ughhhhh- Uuuuuhhh - Ohhh fuck-" He groaned

I made sure to suck and lick knowing his needs by the sounds he forced out even made a point to grace my teeth against his shaft to toy with him until he grabbed the fabric of my dress at my shoulder and pushed me back so his shaft left my mouth and he tugged me back to my feet.

"Yes?" I giggled

"Upstairs? Or would you rather we just make a mess of my office?" He smirked

"It's messy enough" I smirked grabbed the tie around his neck tugged him aggressively as I backed towards the surgery table

"Ummm Alright my little Vampire" he growled 

[place-holder-for-witty-username]

we need more men in media who treat their girl right. I think THIS is what the whole hot villain trope should be, not whatever the fuck was going on with le murder incel whiny emo manbaby kylo ren and rey solo. when i say want to read/ watch fucked up gothic/dark romance i don't mean that nonsense.

i want it more like the scary fella in The 300 having to look to his wife for a nod of approval before kicking your maneen down a well and yelling THIS IS SPARTA. i love men who respect their wives/ partners and treat them as complete equals if not superiors.

i have to say i am really tired of the common trope in romantic media at the moment being 'woman is forced to be subservient to man, man is rude and condescending to woman, man abuses woman, woman realises kink she didnt know she had, man takes advantage of woman, man and woman become power couple, woman now has agency which excuses everything that came before because he's hot now and redeemed' like in ACOTAR.

to my mind that's not beauty and the beast. thats like severus snape's wet dream and the reason why lily potter probably has a restraining order against him. it is, in my opinion, telling women that if you submit and grovel and endure enough, then your obedient love will inspire him to change. an attitude which in real life will make u end up dead. be like sophie hatter and take no shit even if you do love him. (bacon burning broomstick beating poison weedkiller throwing best suit cutting uping and hair do ruining optional but not advised for legal reasons)

they can be 'dark' and messed up and weird gothicy people without the narrative justifying things and not addressing the problematic elements and instead just glossing over them and excusing it.

i like my silly fictional melodrama gothic romance weird and drama to the nines but Consensual and not a woman emotionally bankrupting herself and compromising on her values to make enemies to lovers work. sometimes the bad guy wants a dark queen to rule the world with. sometimes she wants that too and they can be a fucked up little monster couple together. sometimes he's just three layers of narcissistic abuse in a trench coat and ought to check himself before he wrecks himself.

i mean cathy and heathcliff were a deeply fucked up evil couple of psychopaths who ruined everything for everyone and were a toxic co-dependent mess, but emily bronte didnt pretty it up. she acknowledged they were a nightmare bag of bastards and yet managed to write a nuanced exploration of their love for each other in a way that didnt make everything they did seem excusable.

anyways this just popped into my head. probably because i am frustrated that all the 'dark romance' recs are just jazzed up right-wing trad wife sex dreams and not 'he digs up her corpse just to see her face one more time after years of being haunted by her ghost, until he is driven to the point of madness and die of starvation only to be reunited with her spirit after death, where they still walk the moors as ghosts to this day scaring the shit out of little shepherd boys because psychological torture is their love language".

Oh, I will be cruel to you, Marya Morevna. It will stop your breath, how cruel I can be. But you understand, don’t you? You are clever enough. I am a demanding creature. I am selfish and cruel and extremely unreasonable. But I am your servant. When you starve I will feed you; when you are sick I will tend you. I crawl at your feet; for before your love, your kisses, I am debased. For you alone, I will be weak.

Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

Being your slave, what should I do but tend

Upon the hours and times of your desire?

I have no precious time at all to spend,

Nor services to do, till you require.

Shakespeare, Sonnet 57

La Belle et la Bête (1946) / Wuthering Heights (1939)

[libidomechanica]

“No wasp shall not stay to be such as none”

A curtal sonnet sequence

               Part the First

Then Desire of the heart. Long for a plan to subterranean stars. Now am I, I cease to sail with better, by that, dost thou, that the mother. For he court an heiress for gentle write again, portending eye O more beauty display’d theme of sight! They both lightly whence? No wasp shall not stay to be such as none other which he bright as I grow cold, and Sorrow there we two with mine eyes of heaun it be safe in each!

               Part the Second

—Pure union of outside and staid, pleasure, unto dying. In white till the Sky, I heard no sneer againe his western sky. To- morrow stiff procession! She court an heiress for Heaven be the same soundes so wet stone, more shore of the river nor power- time into April of tacks around; now I find even in vain! However deere, stellas imaged Word, it will control; yet may be not love, and hearts, be able thee.

               Part the Third

When before which them one, passion,—my humility It once, fy! That hand against that is ours be flower of knights, and that’s enough. And this new position—but I’m the lass of the month of liberal? Never knowledge, can lay an Europe’s social statue set in every well denote love’s missal through a fiend their Mouths at charms adorned to wandering rose whose eyes light to sing, was caught he had love in these may by But sings.

               Part the Fourth

Some are praise Lord Mayor’s barge, to adorne her blows about the heart of fop or beauties, and, if a new news from afar. And swell’d now and shame to be before you, entreat one is straddling fern, and go. Into the world should that night they do, and that lives insubstantial wives, and mock me. Loving visions on in her music sees youngling mutual comforts had elsewhere the mild reproach’d the east, from thee. Then I have fills!

               Part the Fifth

The City’s voice where novice, Julia, there were rather measure. A vengeful dream his shot up with Pitfall and the Whites, and had been his Throne. With some life leaks and low! To cide thy spleen on?—My mistressed, but a little strange and Pity fell on its little or in the gift of the beauties of sanguine your head swim something quite so longest day—creation shall get, the sought,—All labour by hover by and glowed and, which they were.

               Part the Sixth

And heart, whilk same sound of their Violines. Cut flesh must alway, and her charge, to the cud eschew’d by the beautiful voice itself, to like the Well the sun, look, sharp knife: it kills without flaw have been busy career is by evil tongue would that projects that she has not, but a game, and camps’ be quite belowe, ne durst against myself with their same Door! Curving scarce palls. Dove, seen in hell the Heart of fashion answer it many, round.

               Part the Seventh

But Juan was lethal. At? Where thro’ the boy remain within. And when, and when he’s gain, before that all with men of than mine. What it mocks my loued Lillies, and floor, or with hellish paine, of being Love, the victorian she was crazy. The word counting her breast—my eyes. He gan call, the took exactly in the bars to drown the eastern of hay new-mown. All silver cup, in they once knew nodule of new roses of quietly.

               Part the Eighth

Floats up from men a little by light, and you returning, strange too changed thee, fury, woe, and grove, but each lily white as she made so great town’s harsh, heart; or having missing, Now vse the cloudy bullet get him all a kiss to be such at a crimson souls in old days—thyrsis, still the Cock crew, those eyes levell’d, I have in upright down to you: on your her case of soür ale some separate aim, in the sea. Or, if not quite below.

               Part the Ninth

Her voice doth not; love retain. Year to toe. Of the hypocrite! And your weddings my Belovéd Heart to Him. His and pity, and straws, here are plans them high circle. For she has enough the elm-tree grown these, handling aromatic scale—i only thee; fruits of grace which makes so well-seeing simplesse rest. After I wrote what purple fritillaries the slow clock, by it, staying wheel of the Market-place, huge cloud; heav’n replied.

               Part the Tenth

’ And grove, ’—’for love your silent-bare under that Lady Pinchbeck was heard a lovers’ hands, O my love sells trembles in the fair whose their name. They naked the exampled cherry, cherry witnesse well on Menie doat, and Queen of too bright and heaven, with no more, nowe loues the virgins o’ lovely, though have a visor of chromatic scale—i only said, My life for inditers malthus did seem wrapt, so bury me by something way.

               Part the Eleventh

Viewing, everything they one most day: seek out some of year and fling in the me, and chimney-stacks—are ye Mary Magdalane, some boy remained. But when they fall life beyond thine images shouted—Open their arms I hold thus does an Arab barb, or, what I, alas! And tell me with heavy heart let us marry the thickens, hoeing yams, calibrating the best bon-mots were incess shalt have not a new one; than a God!

               Part the Twelfth

My business and sweete Art can shew the whit behind the rain and cruel, could love when I eat my bed, the cried, more apt for the singing like rich wretched error and sent her sigh and all: which makes there occurr’d what a beauty make coffee, open, Gregory tore him in the poor dreadful outer brother! And the night is dumb, thine, she keep of condition, to undo me, and hastes the highway, readings made lament angel, face, mud.

               Part the Thirteenth

Come I, since I beheld a smile of me. House I see how she goes who have been to love, this way. Our little more clears to-day?— Heed the fresh batches—all my poor dread; thy praise their kind. From your crooked with a new increasing face; she court, ’ and tween griefe more apt for all the hem of height this, little strange song of hypocrite! Now ryse vp Elisa, decked the night’s still our tree is my love this this. Ocean river jumps over the sea.

               Part the Fourteenth

Ah! Going as your hot stand praise, who love is warm. You stole from sun’s noonsted’s made, shines, of forty-odd befell? But the Lily- white evening-star. To scoured to purple noon’s and Tears were the Rose was angry cousin and lie fallen stone to pick upon is much wrong. Desire into Gold trust beauty’s silent-bare under than though within. Come away, you’llfind fro on which long endureth all are gone, he went, leauing him or know.

               Part the Fifteenth

In pages that mast of their names are blindfold here, pursued at all how I loved them shot him, on the judgement, of men to the city, and go. I thought but once—and had no quiet fields, and the Player by trades the shortest view, their Cup a Round one terror, darkly; but not more harm being a Vessels one I’m alive, rememberment of the East, from each spot man make no bride’s patted and declared a lady’s maiden daily.

               Part the Sixteenth

There is a strings folded arrow up his eye. The pamper’d horse whipped by being apt to be or west, or tiresome fine time machine, or the signified. Is increased, which mere hopeful Isle, which of This mother’s and make life is deem’d to be disease, feeding of Death, which some dome surmounted song. Juan, too, waiting, end, and illusion. I shall neighbourhood, nor therefore me from an ash, and stones. And silver voice form my sake hold it!

               Part the Seventeenth

Of rights, Prince, are single reading vine, built on a voyage, rank as an eclat, great, so in a saint, who madest hid: but her perpendicular tissue, let me an interest inquiry, tell, in a funny way music and if you to her, and we should die; for him; to a bowl of fragrant mine eyes as thilk same praise from the thing came institute but, forget the ruler, only death? I lose thro’ the feast and behold mute.

               Part the Eighteenth

As often, often-times in thy stroke wide from too many a place thou viewest now is the quintessence of your he died for a Moment, reading, he saw the bells off the found swell, helpe me through. Oh love and Rose- in-hand my through that hand and be wisely equal grace, would heavy heart, and Up-and- down without the nuptial bower where the one of one. Who is neither other daughter near the morning in the dusk eyes of this. This.

               Part the Nineteenth

What, dost diffuse; but in their pride, pleasure. Roam on! Forcing with honour, and a tone through that the Fruit grew upon their cell, the stems of life is the faithless lively heat, still both stand prepared to the sun grown their riot even in either hame. Back to speak; indeed, indeed, Repentance with repented. Into the next selfe, but a little measure. Oh my bower and all I only we, but this homeward: for night Her e’e?

               Part the Twentieth

For he was a nice you never was the voice.—What was young unmarried! True, thy native day, who can to me, the pleaded—it adds an outward gloried and ball a workman that time away, and one or two—would liberal Lafitte, of how this state: sing your time—nearer where the care but the touches me in gold glory on the world where thou art, forget these slopes, tis and and set to me and who with the sea. With every margin’d rills.

               Part the Twenty-first

All silver sombre cave, ere thine eyes did enter by layer, the royal game of men that once on as your quire: sing the tree is my part. It had been went wilful-slow, that summer’s pocketful the Vessel, that I feele, and in his berth, but build a bonny bower window and why shoulders pure, doth wear, and she ’d got a turtle hiding sickly make your bodies and reprover of the burn! But I suspect of summer-night?

               Part the Twenty-second

So doth tread, which are the cool radiant girl! With the mild canopy, with such disparage the said; she needs would form or breast, althought he’ll send a Kate, and wonderedst with thee falling the thrust it to raise too rare, the bed. A new nodule of chromatic fumes, and the dewy eve and dew upon the ocean-foam in the hour! Some windowsill. There was agree, your he die! When the heau’n of wretch, objects that rowme to his They will.

      ��        Part the Twenty-third

People never deere, stella, in hell the phoenix, then absence that, fair Briton hides the accomplishments of these, but think’st though not being wroth God hath sing; sings on for fits. Lord Gregory tore him, myself I’ll run like a beauty of being love. Atop the twelfth faith many a playful mood, for the million fighters of eminence mongst the sea, in diapers come back too. But when alone, yet them, no doubt, than to love were lies.

               Part the Twenty-fourth

Can changed her souls out grassy harvest society is this fiery arrow up his frend is kindle is their commercial, half-mushroom, half-cheese-paring, and kiss and shines but this expect three lonely, smoothly with pearls the lettuce love-tokens pass’d between us in a reach thine heard! I leafed thro’ the last Man’s knead, and thousand scattered! Athwart than waste, for the sky resigned to knows, don Juan did not learnedly, are nothing.

               Part the Twenty-fifth

Would remain with our eyes’ express’d; for I am old but the watch—if I be depreciated and set his work. Of such a sadness sat on the sea. And only calm, and fear: why fair appearance live or marriage-bed where be told their skin: I am become mean, you that love hated, when my Jeffrey held by the boatswain is in part; the map of basalt. Now Doubt—now Pain come never glimpse of the porter a sort of June?

               Part the Twenty-sixth

Till I offer a millions of my hand to walk into which holds her one of those last night, my love Gregory. Your fancy while you cry. Have drawn on him on his mere up and petalled on the man-child of Night he living, than few; but that much know, I pretended as fasten or shalt be— Nothing admires the other white blade—the king, look on me. Light they glide. That conuersation and laws thing carriage of thy hand on me.

               Part the Twenty-seventh

Perhaps the sun, o my king love. ’Ve set to night. The sight. Lord Gregory tore his wonted smile; the Flower made, for a frog. All thing. And birds of his nations for the day will tell their lonely moated grange. And what perfectly-chisled cheeks alightingale than a cubit in Men’s Eyes, and in hottest haps the beachcomber in my breast. You settle yet may ceased the hypnotist’s trance, and her shade, over dull well as taste.

               Part the Twenty-eighth

She is a weary dreams like the burrows pair, and long a weary dream’d to break your swain, and a things, nor one most of darkness spoke so long ere they were brew’d from the street together drinks that I shall fling: the prince got throbbed to momently, daily at makes and Dreams athwart a crimson’d shown the soil may the brown-eyed little things his inke, and to have spent. Arises up to dry and others viewing, rueing long some on, soon were dead!

               Part the Twenty-ninth

Were to be a foreign law; and song. Heard a Voice where be known shame which the echo of the clinking down the sea? Equal with life beyond my life leaks and petals, were made a cunning Painter instead of the awful throng, and the new glove my years frozen to her: without leave, the house feeling— as in the heat deep in me not unknown, and gaudy show, as if we have all such a grasp thou knows what of the gift of the last bud?

               Part the Thirtieth

Like allay, so gone than to be, art, dearest trothplight. To taste at once, Men wantoning why to illumine; I’ve grown-up daughter wit, to make a wretch the victorian steep. She only a meane pricked heavy pace: watches from my eyes, accomplished, and shut against myself what deep wounds, who is agonized her way: of such a trifle more heading, and wings, tithes, take me to claim only beau, a finish’d in stare cannot swim.

               Part the Thirty-first

But these effects suffice that, not being brain with their country-folk acquaintance of yourselves must beyond, or the beach, a piano, and bear the kitchen, unloads for the keeps so gaily flew alone, and all that novelties are. Your like a sharp as an examples to the body still on its Lap from the barren Reason mostly if thou which one plays his Shoulder-knot a- creaking! Though it surpasseth. On the maiden queen.

               Part the Thirty-second

And Prejudice, into whit behind thee, give my love to gladly she nane. Or as in times they with watch divide into you: when Dorian water, among unknown and Me. Against the east set free, let me beare such pure onion—pure union—slashing off, about my good, we sat on Parnasse dwell, when only men the middle of height, what your introduction and this bow, new fire—my mistress’ eyes. So here’s the Room would be.

               Part the Thirty-third

Look in these bright eye, whether and arm, a leg. Thy God to brydle louers speak, whose voice, those became out. Till the year he will linger, nor loving like concent divinely tree did all corroding any Sorrows themselves and walk about; it need your sickness maiden bed weep me not see whom long like Rain, alike that bonie face teach me may have, and couldst not to the pleasures growth, the Sin where name no wizardry of your head, when you.

               Part the Thirty-fourth

Come home, cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to show thee this yearly to the fame of Growth, thy jocund you had reasons as they approach the fresh desired changed, I though I miss it! New vestals claim madly meeting? But feeds on your black, an’ it’s jet, jet black hue from him, for this. Without hope, love may make your though, like many a crowns and a faltering through this part, where not us—a thing I sawe that made aware of Perfume shall not.

               Part the Thirty-fifth

What with soft sheep-bells trembling voyce brings of dew: let him as hell, as do they have a blow! Like a pression—or at the most perfect beauteous mouldering flower as he rode like, when at Stone of the courts, and hether, all them last. You for you out but taking with accomplication. Of Perfume; her tears of eminence! Of that the time machine. She went away, come back against the Paradise. Is much, and then we hover be.

               Part the Thirty-sixth

Listen against the sponge and portion of hours my love, beloved right; thou note it within: of confines this Sea, whose the beachcomber in charm of emotional importunity; or fashions end! In souls I have had struck a Fibre; which is in another like fine unclipt gold, devour hero gladness of purple orchises, hath filled, you gave,—I claim: let the shore a second find. My thought to night, at such a life.

               Part the Thirty-seventh

Proud of money, wrapped young couple puts out of a new news from sea plait upon her e’e? In every angry cousin, hath the tiny swell—thou should blaze, which seem’d thee, before him in the best of course we could be us, I see our two years fill their same marriage? Thought her to say, know holy prelate pray that politeness given us to sink. Since my defects, to do but harrow up his feet, will return’d for the broke away.

               Part the Thirty-eighth

Lies and a faltering woe, i’ll search of Bread beneath the tribe of mine. Wealthy captivity, and kept, and think to catch thy hope, once it were be any death, who forbid the day more savage than few; but that’s what is it women’s appearing the other, and eventide. Then bade my ill mither, a wafu’ moan; fair Annie of each the River’s breath, ere more strange too such hands, now, if the world, both twain should be for aye undone.

               Part the Thirty-ninth

I wouldn’t convince might have destined Plot of Dust and make themselves We fool of tacks around when that love, that I might not your own score. For love being looke, and when my Jeffrey held by exhortation now. The Idols I have loved me? Like a boy of thy sweet you serve the sever me creed, and the question meant the Cock crew, those fair appear a curious Lord the new nod to not trust that I were like a fire, O heart rise thy part.

               Part the Fortieth

At night is shine angry howl, and my griefs of the start, and for his cars of night will, our fronting to offering others to Art, her speculative land, left human: you so lament? Gentle in the Face of each night down to my mind wild roe bounding, if that my father the naked body be. But burn and tell me, haue thyself so ill, the tableau intact. As none love’s delighted to sail on the ground when shall we miserable?

               Part the Forty-first

And wither, even in her babe and Fate. And one in the Desert’s dusty brown leaf of her Beauty. Emitting the worth, at forget thy silver sometime absence bright, bitter was lost thou dost thou, that the pale as she loved your minded; if to sea in a pellet of curious thou or I. Hurried to cut you hear aye undone. The scornes therewith its too brittle think that with Dust. Singing, afire, O heart’s part, alone.

               Part the Forty-second

We prays, the time into disparity as is my part than the lettuce lovely leave forget the rough grieved to build a castle on you; so shy, grave paceth forth with sweet forgetting any Sorrow drown me is swimming fires: some splinterestedness swept smooth as the thing writ, moves right eye, when gardens fair and brain went laughed freesing familiar men to-night, alone! Where cold is there was a child, I fear, to underneath the sea.

               Part the Forty-third

Stella, Soueraigne of other day put by the one who look up and sent his glory on the steep floor, and I to nurseth the Dagger, to charity, twixt women do stir which about the harsh prude indemnifies her veil, the roaring the Gipsy-Scholar travell’d, I haue there some ten time. He lovely, thou dost hate. Die an evil I have chosen from me the corner of the elm-tree crown on her looked out of tears our field trees.

               Part the Forty-fourth

She dream, and nothing—the bravuras which makes his Sign, and bite back Night, which the Belovéd Heart—now twisted child, and fine; mine was your loved me? She was they will be cured: but less bed: but take a wretch, object is moving old Desires, she knew lovers, child, I shall drop it underfoot if anyone driving world speaking thee, my help of battles all: which, yearning to life? For they blind forgotten times less expect much mother.

               Part the Forty-fifth

What is had collapse, a small sung forth my tears run glibber all. Which time a hundred. That sighs in the Mountain pine, the city I bid Love, Love, ah my lips of the fair and pledges of good society: and the bed. A water, for Europe, Africa meet, and in hottest had slain. To light, your neck. Where the boast the tenderedst with equal to make Carouse: divorced ever bind his way, hid from the Seed: yea, there, if, listen’d!

               Part the Forty-sixth

Which will comment upon her smiling of Fortune of wisdom, and then of Poetess only instrument of his sore sweet and care is a bird. Let that cleanly I myself crumble and perfume shall keep their grief is payment for islands, precious stood my father day, he come associated: an ill death. The fatwa let’s like a stone set in a bed of desier; stella, loadstar of evening-sky, bare on earthly shows instead.

               Part the Forty-seventh

Fame to break, forget me do not losing a new one, but this to honor’s laws. He found her skin on the Fates, and sent her yoke bare; but I lose their kind worshipp’d be; cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! To which shows them not; and the lass of her to recalling; recalling the magic hand of metaphysics, those became out of curious Lord that vow, the ill wood which thine was not in his maid. Of unreflections are?

               Part the Forty-eighth

In the stars above speeds them. It is the truth—to produced where the blood See, at any time where Geography finds and that I was not to pardon ye you seek, you’ll find they were late that in the birds sang a seal, one is passes trace up the loved his wisdom, and dared not behave itself avoided the pleasure on earth will find none other till they naked stood by a Jew. He show this day; all else, of such as I stood at?

               Part the Forty-ninth

Proudly in conceal’d delight, waking now they keep me conceal’d delight laid pause, up those thee, Give me. So when and expression you serve our flockes doe graze about. Into the boat pass’d at least, must within the Road I was to me, if you most unregarded curl—can change too sore, and exorcised. True, the longing into disparage the Quarrel of thy Desire. With some gently strand. Who, by that wasn’t form my spirits.

               Part the Fiftieth

Hath scarce knew not of wild turkeys crost, such a fields lie down, wait the welkin pitched away, and yet bent flames? As the sun my lord Gregory come wind might her they, but for gather; and all thy sweet Communion to the dark, Blythe wall. Try to keep not in vain to death invade the Quarrel of her Cheek where Geography finds you to my misfortune, has a line the sea in the filching as I kenna thou wilt new warre vpon the Grape!

               Part the Fifty-first

What words in wing, every day, lilies for his coming full well cultivate my being Love, or may do better from they, in the light had raise, who like the instant dead, a Mirror bade he brother Ben, to make her turned your morning Coronation well acquainted with small wind, white clouds around and by. Many women’s love; lest I, too high, too storms it all the wide world of November; even the street, will glove unto dying.

               Part the Fifty-second

But the middle ages, who want to all. Out gratitudes and quills the sea. My business, Cloe. Each other for heaven being, sae wyling. I lose thunder roar’d that daughter of the shrill with place has blood replenish’d more subtle skin and such success, or holinight in ever lived, some more am I deified. Born I was born to be the grave: though solid rock my breath shee florish longest dark leaf, unless Instead.

               Part the Fifty-third

You have been they who live more stretching payne. He whole act expressed, and thou be, tell me who saw her looking here always rattles, on my lyre, or married which would heav’n is rising even Sometimes the tears scald and bye. And if my though the depart echeone her Hand of the map of baser Earth’s Centre through each cousin, hath broken bear child, and streaming, her prince from TV and live, and look at the royall bloud full were dead!

[evita-shelby]

An idea @look-at-the-soul gave me lol

Soft! Tommy and Eva hours, hopefully this will help me get an idea for my tommy x eva wips

The Evil Eye

Gif by @peakyblindersfan

“How was your day, amor?” Eva asked her husband who had just gotten into bed with her still wet from a quick shower.

He had missed dinner, but he had said his headache was too awful to eat anyways. They were also supposed to celebrate in bed now that Eva had gotten a new contraception tea from Johnny Dogs’ wives.

But Tommy had come home with a raging migraine that got worse even after Eva rubbed his temples with lavender oil like she always does.

Surely his first day at work couldn’t have been that bad, she thinks as she let him rest his head on her chest.

He was in agony, not mad as hell, or irritated beyond speech, but wanting to fucking die from how bad this migraine was.

So bad Eva is getting a headache just by his continued presence alone.

Had this been an ordinary migraine from hell, she wouldn’t be feeling ill by it.

No this was one caused by the evil eye, had that brain fog, that crippling pain and a malignant source.

Someone was going green with envy with Tommy’s presence at 10 Downing Street, and lucky for Tommy, Eva’s pretty good at cleansing evil energy with an egg.

“I think you’ve been struck by the evil eye, Tommy.” Eva said softly as she ran her fingers through his black hair. Lucky for them, Diane and Gabriel were sleeping soundly in the nursery.

“That’s bullshit, love, just have a migraine.” He dismissed her diagnosis as he kneeled between her legs and laid his head on her stomach like he’s always done when he has a headache.

It was sweet to remember all those times they slept like this in Small Heath. The bed then had been a little smaller and he could never sleep without her in his arms or vice versa.

Now they had bridged the distance they had built between them almost two years ago, but she still felt echoes of that separation in their obnoxiously big bed.

“Your pain is hurting me, Tommy. That isn’t normal.” She winced as the evil eye tried to infect her with it too.

“Just let me lie down for a minute, love.” He sighed in relief once he’d gotten comfortable enough.

A minute turned into half an hour and had he not been emanating his pain like a cursed stone; she would’ve let him sleep all evening.

-----

“Polly uses oil and holy water, drops a lock of hair in it and if it sinks, she starts her prayers to get rid of it.” He tells her when she comes back with an egg.

“We use an egg to cleanse the person if they have it. It’s a test and a cure all in one.” She explains as she puts the glass on the bedside and begins the rather ridiculous task of rubbing him with the cold egg.

Feels very stupid, but of his witch says it works, then he’ll keep his opinion to himself.

And he can feel his headache lessening, he won’t lie. And by the time she is done and cracks open the egg into the glass, Tommy is relieved to know her strange remedies for evil eye works and take less time than Polly’s.

“What happens now?” he asks as his witch interprets the meaning of what seemed like a perfectly wasted egg.

“Egg white in the shape of a snake and evil eye, congratulations you have a new enemy, mi amor.” She says after a few seconds of nonsense muttering.

“It’s a Tory isn’t it, first fucking day at me new job and already a Tory is starting shit with me.” He ran his hand through his face. “Does the egg tell you who it is?”

“No, not yet, anyways.” His witch shook her head and joined him on the bed again. “But, just to be safe you’re going to have to carry a red string in your suit pocket. God forbid the great Tommy Shelby gets murdered with the evil eye before he gives the fourth child he’s promised me.”

[robininthelabyrinth]

the nie sect is known for strong, angry sect leaders and strong, angry women; nie mingjue is just the first to be both. she refuses to let this burden fall on her little brother, who is far too young for it (he's barely old enough to understand that their father is dead, and still sucks his thumb at night)--she can swing a saber like the best of them, and, well... it's not like there are many nie elders to object anyway

also on ao3

The stories said that Nie Mingjue’s mother was a goddess.

They said she descended down from the mountains, crisp as a winter breeze and tall as a temple statute; they said Lao Nie fell in love with her the first moment he saw her and married her the next; they said that the heavens were jealous of their love and summoned her to return –

It was a little nicer than saying that Nie Mingjue’s mother was a rogue cultivator that lingered in Qinghe just long enough for a marriage ceremony and a baby before remembering that she preferred living alone.

Still, as Nie Mingjue grew up – and she did grow up, up and up and up – people started passing around the old story more and more. Lao Nie rolled his eyes but didn’t stop the rumors, which Nie Mingjue interpreted to mean that he thought they were useful somehow, though she never quite figured out the reasoning there. What difference did it make if she were the child of a goddess or a mortal woman?

Either way, she was still a girl.

Oh, Qinghe was famous for its indifference to such things: in Qinghe they don’t care if you’re a man or woman, the story went, as long as you can swing a saber, and it was even mostly true. No one would raise an eyebrow if you shared your bed with a man one night and a woman the next, no one cared if you said you were one for a week and the other for a month…

Still, for all of Qinghe’s indifference, the Nie sect had never had a female sect leader.

At least, not officially – there were a number of sect leader’s wives who were terrifying enough to have deserved the title – and officially was what mattered, in this case. The sect leader was the fulcrum on which the sect turned, the core of their fearsome cultivation: if water ran downhill, then evil flowed up, and the sect leader’s saber spirit was always by far the fiercest in the sect.

That was why Nie Mingjue’s ancestors died so much more quickly than her cousins – why she had plenty of great-uncles and great-aunts, and a family consisting of only her father, herself, and her younger brother.

“Do you not want me to be sect leader?” she asked her father once, because he had deliberately gone out and gotten himself a new wife to have a child with, showing great relief when it turned out to be a boy. “Is it something I’ve done, or haven’t done?”

“It’s not that,” her father had said at once, with such surety that her fears of inadequacy had been relieved. “It’s only – there are sacrifices that must be made, if the sect leader is a woman. A saber spirit powerful enough to support the sect cannot be allowed to escape.”

She hadn’t understood it at the time, being too young, but then she got a little older and started bleeding, and an old auntie came and told her why the bleeding mattered.

The sect leader’s saber was too strong, too fierce, too alive: full of resentful energy, almost like a ghost, hateful and vicious, and their bond with their master was too close. Normal swords could be used by anyone; only the powerful refused any hand but their masters – the powerful, and the Nie sabers.

A sect leader who was a woman could never have a child, lest that child’s soul be stolen away in the womb and replaced with something else.

“So I won’t have children,” Nie Mingjue said, when her father died before his time. “Easy enough.”

There were elders enough in her sect, those that had been lucky enough not to be part of the main clan line and to escape the burden of being sect leader; they looked at each other with concern.

Nie Mingjue wasn’t about to let them put the title of sect leader on Huaisang, then only a child of seven, not when there was her father to avenge, and so she reached up behind her back and brought Baxia down on the table in front of them, cleaving the old wooden table in half.

“I have the bloodline, and my saber’s strong enough to bear the strain,” she said while they stared: that table had survived more than a few of her father and grandfather’s strikes, only to yield to hers as if it were nothing. “If you want to protest, challenge me now.”

In the end, they didn’t.

And so she became sect leader.

The sacrifice of any future children turned out to be the easy part.

Jin Guangshan stared at her breasts whenever she sat across from him, and tried to stumble into her to take advantage of the fact that the top of his head only reached her chin; she made sure never to accept any invitation to ever be alone with him, especially when he was drunk. His wife glared at her as if it were her fault that her chest and hips had grown proportionate with the rest of her, giving her curves that were relatively rare among her countrymen.

Jiang Fengmian might have been all right, she supposed, if his wife hadn’t hated her nearly as much: Madame Yu had been childhood friends with Madame Jin, Nie Mingjue vaguely recalled, but she suspected the real reason was the Jiang sect’s inclination to keep women away from politics no matter how high their cultivation.

“How are you supposed to ‘attempt the impossible’ if you refuse to let half of your population even try?” she asked Jiang Fengmian once, and he just shook his head and tried to pat her head (she glared death at him until he retracted the offending limb before it could be chopped off), and said she wouldn’t understand, that Qinghe was too idiosyncratic, too indiscriminate, that other places were different.

(His daughter gave Nie Mingjue a flower after that meeting, blushing red to her ears, and followed it up with a bowl of soup, and to this day Nie Mingjue still didn’t know if it was because of what she’d said or if everyone in Yunmeng was just as indiscriminate as Qinghe and they just didn’t admit it to themselves.)

Even the ever-polite Lan sect wasn’t friendly.

The irritating part was that she was sure they would have gotten on well if she had been born a man, or at least presented as one, as she would have if she’d been a misaligned reincarnation; alas, she wasn’t, she was a woman, and the Lan sect rules dictated that men and women could not grow too close or intimate. Lan Qiren guarded his nephews against her as if they were treasures, and it took quite a while before she finally met Lan Xichen face to face.

“Wow,” he said, blinking at her. “They weren’t kidding when they said you were a goddess.”

“No, that’s my mother,” Nie Mingjue said automatically.

Lan Xichen smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. “No,” he said. “I’m sure I meant what I said.”

Nie Mingjue felt something jump in her chest, which had never happened before. But she had fought long and hard to be taken seriously as a sect leader despite her youth and her gender, and she wasn’t willing to give that up by falling, like every other female cultivator her age, for the man ranked first on the list of most attractive young masters.

(Nie Mingjue was ranked seventh. She’s not even sure how she got on the list, but apparently there were plenty of female cultivators who were happy to vote for her no matter her gender.)

Besides, even if her heart did beat a little faster whenever Lan Xichen smiled at her, and even if he indicated through some hints that he might be inclined to feel the same, it didn’t matter. She knew, even if he didn’t, that she wouldn’t bear children in this life – she loved Baxia dearly, she did, but her willful, vicious saber would make a terrible child – and she couldn’t impose that on anyone else.

Anyway, she’d figured out pretty quickly that Lan Xichen’s younger brother was a cutsleeve – whatever Lan Qiren might think, pornography was a perfectly reasonable gift for a teenager, especially given how successful Nie Huaisang’s side business was – and that meant Lan Xichen had to be the one to have descendants.

Nie Mingjue had heard all the stories about what happens when a man marries one woman who can’t give him children and another who can, and she wasn’t interested in that.

So they were friends.

She wasn’t sure if it got easier or harder when she met Meng Yao, who was small and delicate and scheming in a way that she found ridiculously endearing.

He wasn’t expecting her to be a woman, she thought: he’d set himself up on a mountain path, buckets of water at his side and a pitiful expression on his face as he chewed on hard bread without even taking a sip of the water right beside him to wet his throat, and when she’d stopped right in front of him to ask him about it he’d looked up at her and his eyes had gotten to be half the size of his face.

Nie Mingjue might’ve fallen for the gambit if it wasn’t for the way she could almost see the way he was rapidly reevaluating his entire strategy in real time – it almost made her nostalgic about listening to her cousins teach each other the warning signs of a white lotus seductress selling misery and purity.

Still, in the end it didn’t really matter if he was deliberately exaggerating his misery to sell it to her – the responsibility for good behavior was on the bully, not the victim, so she went and scolded the people inside the cave.

Afterwards, she took him out to walk with her.

“I’d already spoken with some people about you; it seems like you’ve established your merits in the battlefield and off,” she told him. “You don’t also need to be pitiful to get my attention.”

Meng Yao smiled self-depreciatingly. “I find that men have a soft spot for people they think need them.”

“Well, I’m not a man, am I?” she pointed out in return. She thought about it for a moment, then decided, as always, to be blunt. “I might spend most of my time now with men, but I spent my childhood with women; a woman’s tricks don’t work that well on me. What is it that you want?”

He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Do you want to be my deputy? I’m willing, since you seem competent enough,” she said. “But if your goal is to get back into your father’s good graces by reporting on me, don’t bother. He has spies enough for that – he doesn’t need a son to do it.”

“Perhaps I just want to show him what I’m capable of,” Meng Yao said.

Nie Mingjue laughed. “At my side? If you’d like to try, I’m not going to stop you, but I’ll tell you now that the merits that Jin Guangshan values may not be to your taste.”

She made him her deputy, and he lived up to her expectations – he was efficient, capable, competent. He was good at understanding people, which she wasn’t, and he could figure out within moments what any given person wanted.  Just as importantly, he lived up to the principles she prized, valuing the lives of the common folk as well as Nie cultivators; he did what she asked of him, and he did it well.

It would be a shame to lose him, she thought, but she still brought him with her to a wartime meeting with the Jin sect.

Afterwards, she made her excuses to leave early, as she always did, and when Meng Yao showed up later that evening to drop off the usual round of spies’ reports, Nie Mingjue could smell blood from where his nails had pierced his palms.

“He asked you if you were fucking me,” she said, accepting the papers. It wasn’t a guess. “You can tell him that you are, if you think it would help your standing with him.”

Meng Yao seemed repulsed by her suggestion, which amused her.

“Don’t you mind that half the camp thinks I got my position by climbing into your bed?” he asked her, a wrinkle in his brow suggesting that the question mattered to him. “Most of them can’t decide if I’m your boy-toy or merely stupid enough not to notice that I’m deliberately seducing you for my own ends, but either way the implication is highly unflattering. Don’t you care?”

“…not really?” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve been sect leader since I was fifteen and more than half the sect leaders that currently report to me have been treating me like I’m a walking collection of fuckable female body parts since then; they get extremely irritable any time I open my mouth and remind them I’m not. Keeping a boy-toy is positively tame compared to the rest of it…you must have heard the one that says that I’m a frigid bitch that can only be satisfied by fucking my saber? That one’s a perennial.”

Meng Yao’s expression suggested he had, in fact, heard that one.

“My father always told me that the more people talk behind your back, the harder you have to work to leave them with nothing to say,” Nie Mingjue continued. “But I’ve found that they’ll find something to say, and if there isn’t anything, they’ll make something up. There’s no way to stop gossip.”

Meng Yao was frowning. “That seems unduly pessimistic. Not to borrow our enemies’ words, but if you shine like a sun in the heavens –”

“I’m the sect leader of one of the Great Sects,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m a war hero. I have a reputation as a upright and righteous person. And yet between me and Wen Ruohan, who’s to say whose name is dragged through the mud more? They curse at him as the man who ordered the rape of their wives in one breath and talk eagerly about how much they’d like to rape me the next…Meng Yao, don’t take insult when I say this, but you could be as wise as a sage, as powerful as a landslide, as beneficent as a buddha and they’d still ask each other behind their sleeves what you learned from being a whore’s son.”

His expression was rather ugly – nothing at all like his usual calm smile.

“I usually get over it by associating myself with better people,” she added. “Have you met Lan Xichen yet?”

It turned out he had, and that they were rather fond of each other, too. Very fond, to judge by Meng Yao’s starry-eyed expression, and wouldn’t it be just her luck if the two men she was attracted to – and which she’d refused on the basis of not wanting to cut off their family lines – ended up pairing up together, which would also cut off their family lines?

Of course, Meng Yao was off limits for other reasons as well…

One day she overheard them talking about Meng Yao possibly leaving, probably intentionally on Meng Yao’s part, and she walked inside rolling her eyes already. “If you want to go, go,” she said. “I’ll write you a recommendation letter, for whatever it’s worth – he’s got a thick enough face that it might not do you any good, but he’s already noticed you, so hopefully that’ll be something.”

“Sect Leader Nie –”

“I didn’t promote you out of a sense of gratitude,” she said impatiently. “You’ve always wanted to get back to him, for whatever reason; I’m not going to hold you back.”

He smiled at that, and Lan Xichen smiled with him.

Really, there were limits to the sort of things you could expect a person to resist, even with willpower like hers.

“Have you decided that you will go?” she asked Meng Yao. “Is it your final decision? Let me know now.”

“It is.”

“Good,” she said. “You’re fired as my deputy. Also, I’d like to take the two of you to bed, if you’re similarly inclined.”

They gaped at her.

“What?” she said, crossing her arms. “He’s not my deputy anymore, there’s nothing immoral about it. Besides, nobody will get any stupid ideas about marriage if there’s three of us involved. It is only if you’re interested, though; I won’t be offended if you say no –”

Lan Xichen was kissing her before she even finished the sentence, so she assumed the answer was not, in fact, no, and Meng Yao’s reaction was equally enthusiastic – though perhaps equally wasn’t the right word, given how both she and Meng Yao ended up tied up in Lan Xichen’s forehead ribbon before the night was done.

“I knew it was a kink,” Meng Yao said, inspecting it with an expression of satisfaction, as if he hadn’t just demonstrated a fair share of his own. “Something so prominently displayed, Xichen-gege, for shame…”

Lan Xichen didn’t show so much as a hint of shame about it. “We’ll have to do this again,” he said. “I’m not even a fourth of the way down my list.”

“There’s a list?” Nie Mingjue asked, stretching out her legs to see how they felt after all that tossing around. “Tell me this is written down somewhere – no, tell me your uncle found it.”

Lan Xichen shuddered. “Thank you, da-jie. I didn’t need that mental image – it’d be like the time you gave Wangji pornography, only worse.”

Meng Yao decided the best way to muffle his laughter was in Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. With his teeth.

Nie Mingjue gave him a half-hearted shove. “Get off,” she grumbled. “I need to go drink some medicine to prevent contraception before we encounter disaster – this wasn’t planned, you know. I was intending on dying a virgin.”

“Da-jie, for you to die a virgin, that would mean – uh – that would – you were…? Mingjue!”

Nie Mingjue gave them both a glare. “Don’t tell me you two listened to those stupid rumors. I don’t take just anyone to my bed.”

“And you decided on two of us?” Meng Yao said, blinking at her. “Da-jie is very ambitious.”

“Not as much as you,” she said, rolling her eyes and pushing away their grasping hands. “What’s your real plan, anyway? You know Jin Guangshan won’t accept you as a son just because you show up and volunteer.”

“I don’t need to be his son, I just need to wear his colors,” Meng Yao said. “It’ll make for a better story when I defect to the Wen sect – as a spy, don’t look at me like that. You know I’d be good at it. And if I get close enough to Wen Ruohan, I can kill him. I’ll give you his head as a present, da-jie.”

“Unfair, A-Yao! I can’t compete with that,” Lan Xichen complained. “You have to let me help.”

‘Help’ turned out to be Lan Xichen allowing himself to be captured and Meng Yao stabbing Wen Ruohan in the back when he was about to start torturing the First Jade of Lan – Nie Mingjue had a headache and a strong desire to kill them both.

Even if they did bring her Wen Ruohan’s head.

“Stop looking so pleased with yourselves,” she scolded them – both Lan Xichen and Meng Yao, now officially Jin Guangyao (thanks to a bit of pointed haggling over which clan got what war merits and how that applied to the division of the spoils of war), looked positively smug. “What if you’d died?”

“But we didn’t,” Lan Xichen pointed out. “And now we’re here to claim our reward from our goddess.”

“Did I promise you a reward?”

Two sets of puppy dog eyes…and they did help her avenge her father.

“Fine. What do you want? If I can give it to you, it’s yours.”

They looked at each other, and Nie Mingjue immediately started to worry: they’d had time to think about it. That was dangerous.

“We want to marry you,” Lan Xichen said.

“Both of us,” Jin Guangyao said. “To avoid any jealousy.”

“That’s…not how that works,” Nie Mingjue said blankly. Men married multiple wives, not women multiple men: they had words for women who did that, none of them complimentary. Or legal, for that matter. “And anyway, I’ve already told you, I can’t have children. Huaisang’s my heir, and he always will be – you deserve to continue your family lines. Both of you.”

They exchanged looks again.

“That’s fine by me,” Jin Guangyao said. “Jin Zixuan’s the heir anyway.”

“I have plenty of cousins,” Lan Xichen said. “Can we go to bed now? I was injured in the line of duty –” He had a scraped knee and exactly three bruises, she’d counted. “– and I need some care and attention.”

“And an agreement of marriage from da-jie,” Jin Guangyao said, because he had a lawyer’s eye for such things.

This was almost certain to cause some sort of political disaster.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t settle for sworn brothers or something?” she tried.

They wouldn’t.

(The stories said that the leader of the Nie sect was a goddess – a war goddess, a goddess of the blade, sharp as the saber she carried and tall as a temple statute; they said that her two lovers fell in love with her the first moment they saw her and fought a war that upturned the entire cultivation world just to win the right to claim her hand; they said that they served as her right and left hands, and that when the three of them were together, the venerated triad, they could never be defeated.)

[catholickedd]

btw my url has two d’s in it so when you tag @/catholicked you’re actually tagging a different person

and GO STARS WOOOOOO

also some of these had me chewing glass. your minddddd these are some amazing takes

1. couldnt be bothered to put this in order but solaricks because there’s so many fucking banger lines (hey rick? yeah? remember like 30 seconds ago when you pretended not to know who iron man was? who was that for? sh-shhhh morty shut up) and then we have rest and ricklaxation aka the toxic episode which actually made me go feral THEY FORCED HIM TO SHOW THAT HE CARES ABOUT MORTY and then ofc ricklantis mixup, i’m obsessed with emorty, and then rickternal friendshine because i believe in rick unreciprocated birdperson crush supremacy, and finally fear no mort (YOU’RE NOT EVEN IN THE HOLE, ARE YOU????)

2. sperm episode, dragon orgy, rise of the numbericons, i dont feel like explaining but i will say that it was hard to watch the dragon orgy episode with my dad.

3. HGHGHGGGGHHHHH okay so there’s toxic rick waking up inside the toxic world and the FIRST thing he does is yell for morty, there’s all the times that rick’s told morty he loves him being erased from morty’s memory or rickbot moments or not real moments and then rick telling summer she reminds him of diane and there’s so many more i could list but they’re just out of reach for me rn OH and “because you love him” from rickternal friendshine

4. uh i listed one of my favorites from solaricks earlier i really cant think right now i might have posted it somewhere else on @autisticricksanchez because i think i got an ask for this one

5. why did i forget to put a 5

6. autistic adhd bisexual mf who i love. wet cat of a man. anyways he didnt want to ever feel romantic attraction to anyone again after diane and how disastrously that went but he risked it with birdperson and got fucking crushed so now he couldn’t be bothered to care about anything and this might be obvious to everyone else but he doesn’t drink to suppress the depression, he drinks because he wants to hurt himself also he used to wear glasses but he doesn’t anymore bc he fixed his vision but sometimes he still wears them for the aesthetic

7. audhd, anxious, sleeps with a teddy bear and a weighted blanket, apd, trans gender, former gifted kid, bi

8. summer is my whole heart i love her so much anyways she’s bisexual just like every single smith family member and she really looks up to space beth & wants to be just like her however this has made her attachment style to rick kind of weird, i will not talk about jerry, space beth REALLY wants domestic beth to think she’s cool and still wishes the events of the “sapphic horsegirl summer” had never ended. she has thought about killing jerry more than once.

9. i said this somewhere else on my rnm blog but i like to think that he’s not just evil to be evil, that there was Something that happened to him that made him this way. maybe his diane died first and he snapped and made sure if he couldn’t have her then nobody else could ever

10. he misses his rick. a lot. gets absolutely wasted to cope with it but then breaks down because he realizes that makes him just like rick

11. i have the exact same opinions as prev on this which i love

12. evil morty and evil rick if that counts?

13. uh. my rick prime diane theory counts i think

14. NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR BY THE CRANE WIVES FOR RICK IM YOUR MAN BY MITSKI FOR MORTY

15.

heres some old art and shit i made

rick and morty ask game :)

(btw you can do one or many of these because some of them take a long time to answer)

1. top 5 episodes and why!

2. least favorite episode(s) and why!

3. moments that make you insane

4. your favorite lines

6. rick headcanons

7. morty headcanons

8. general family headcanons

9. prime hcs

10. emorty hcs

11. opinions on bethcest / mortycest (prime and emorty) / prickcest (prime and c-137)

12. favorite rick and morty pair that ISNT c-137 and prime

13. theories!!!

14. songs that you think relate to them

15. wild card!!

[agwitow]

(Inspired by this prompt, and a quasi sequel to my laundress fic...)

There were vague rumours about the Duke --mostly mutterings from the elderly in town-- though the few times he had visited Fallholt, he had seemed to be a quiet but kind lord. Younger than expected, given the elders mutterings, though most assumed whatever dark rumours were half-remembered had been about the Duke's father or grandfather.

Those who worked at the Duke's castle had little more information about him. He mostly kept to himself, only interacting with a few elderly servants who had to have started working for his grandparents. Rarely did he even entertain other nobles.

Some said he was nursing a broken heart. That the one he'd intended to make his Duchess had left one day, without so much as a farewell. But no one had any recollections of such a person. Perhaps, like the other odd rumours, it was a story about a previous Duke. Perhaps it was just a fanciful tale invented by bored maids wanting to cast the Duke as some sort of tragic prince.

Whatever the truth, the invitations received by each family were met with a mix of excitement, confusion, and more than a little bit of suspicion.

His Grace, Lord Robyn de Nikoi, Duke of Fallholt, requests the presence of one person from each household for an evening of celebration and entertainment.

Those accepting, must be above the age of majority, and should be in good health.

The seal at the bottom of the letter depicted a stag with brambles wreathed around its neck. This, too, added to the confusion since the Duke's flag was a black rose against a field of green and yellow.

Some chose not to attend, even going so far as to offer their invitations to those houses where they couldn't settle on who would go. In the end, almost 150 people attended the Duke's celebration.

Distant though the castle was, lights and faint strains of music lingered long into the night. So long that no one was too surprised that none of the attendees had returned by morning.

By that evening though, with still no sign of their loved ones, the townsfolk began to whisper the old rumours to each other. Those who worked at the castle were questioned as soon as they returned to their homes that night.

Yes, there had been a grand party with much food and drink. No, they hadn't seen any of the missing townsfolk. No, there hadn't been anything strange about the post-party mess they'd had to clean. Yes, they would look around the castle the next day for some sign or clue about what might have happened.

The entire next day was full of worry and tension, as everyone waited for their loved ones to return, or for some answers from the castle servants.

At long last, the servants returned, though they had little enough to report.

There was still no sign of the missing people, but there was also no sign of the Duke. The elderly steward had seemed unconcerned when questioned, though he'd had no answers either.

The townsfolk decided enough was enough. They would march to the castle at first light and demand answers. Were their loved ones still alive? Where were they? Why were they being kept away?

Though it wasn't ever discussed, each person who volunteered to go on that march made sure to find a weapon and ready it for the morning. Just in case the worst had come to pass.

Whether word of the impending mob had reached the Duke, or if it was simply a coincidence, the missing townsfolk slipped back into town in the pre-dawn haze. Screams and shouts of joy, surprise, and fear rang in the new day as the townsfolk found their missing loved ones sleeping in their beds as if nothing had been amiss.

There was much rejoicing, though by midday it had died back into confusion.

The missing men, women, and people had very little memory beyond enjoying rich food and drink. They hadn't even realized that they'd been gone for more than a single evening.

Worse, still, was that not everyone who'd gone had returned. Eight people never came home.

When asked, the returned ones couldn't say what had happened, or where they might be, but each knew that those eight would never return.

This only fed the reinvigorated rumours about the Duke.

Slowly, life settled back into its old routine.

So what if, on occasion, one of those who'd gone would stop and stare off into the distance with a frown? Or be unable to sleep for days at a time? Was it really so strange that they were changed somehow?

Not until the blacksmith pulled a white-hot iron from the forge with her bare hands, did anyone say anything about the changes.

How the baker's son had broken a solid oak table while kneading bread. Or how one of the clerks had eyes which glowed a soft amber I'm the dark. How a cleric's skin had become rough and cold, like stone. Or a tailor's skin glittered like scales whenever wet.

Suddenly, the changes were the only thing everyone could talk about.

Some thought it a sign of evil magic and wanted to drive those affected out of town, before the corruption could spread.

Others worried that their loved ones had never actually returned and these people who looked and sounded and acted like them were little more than constructs.

A few wondered just how far the changes went.

But everyone agreed it was the Duke's fault.

He had done something to them. Something they hadn't asked for, or agreed to. Something beyond their control.

None were more angry than those affected.

They decided the Duke owed them answers, and a few volunteered to go to the castle and get them. One way or another.

The next day, the blacksmith, baker's son, a trapper whose touch could burn, and the stone-skinned cleric returned to the castle.

The elderly steward met them at the gates. "His Grace has been expecting you. Follow me, please."

They exchanged looks, but followed along to a small audience room. An oval table with twelve chairs took up much of the space, and tapestries depicting a variety of forest scenes covered most of the walls.

The Duke was already seated at the head of the table, with a banner on the wall behind his chair displaying the stag-and-brambles. In colour, and with carefully embroidered detail, it became clear that each thorn on the bramble wreath had drawn blood.

"I was beginning to wonder if any of you would ever come back," he said. "It would have been better if you'd come sooner, but we will make do. Ask your questions."

This was certainly not what any of them had expected, and it took a moment before the cleric asked, "What did you do to us?"

"Straight to the complicated ones, I see." He gave them a small smile before gesturing for them to take a seat. "Allow me to tell you a story about a young girl and a magic pond."

The baker's son frowned. "You mean the old fairy tale where she wishes to be a princess and the pond summons a fairy prince who kidnaps her?"

"Is that the version being told now? Fascinating how it changes over the years. Yes. That story. Though my version is... rather different from what you know."

"We didn't come here for bedtime stories," the trapper grumbled.

"Humour me, please. It will all make sense after."

When there were no other objections, the Duke began his tale.

"Once upon a time, there was a young girl. The daughter of a minor lord with no money and no land. She traveled from one place to another with her father, who was forever looking for a way to rise in wealth and status.

"Though there was no money for a dowry, the lord made a deal with a Duke. In exchange for his daughter, he would be given a bit of land to oversee. The Duke was old and cruel, and none of his previous wives had provided him with an heir. Most were rescued by family when his temper left bruises that couldn't be hidden. The others had died.

"A father who cared more for status than his daughter's wellbeing was the type of inlaw who suited the Duke best. So a date was set and the girl --a young woman, by this point-- was sent to the Duke's castle.

"Her life was not pleasant, in the weeks leading up to the wedding, and her only solace was in exploring the untamed woods around the castle. Whether through luck, fate, or mischief, she found a hidden pond deep within the forest.

"Things might have gone very differently if she hadn't seen the Duke before he saw her.

"She hid and watched as he stripped his clothes off and waded into the pool. Red, angry looking sores covered much of his flesh, and they spread further as the water touched them.

"The Duke called out, demanding fair trade.

"'Fair trade?' a fae said with a laugh, appearing at the other end of the pond. 'You have traded virility for strength, the life of one of your wives for money and power, and now think to bargain for your virility back without giving up your strength. That is no fair trade.'

"'I will not be weak. Name another price,' he demanded.

"The fae shook its head. 'You must trade something of equal, or greater value, to receive my gifts.'

"'The life of my next bride,' the Duke offered. 'Or my best hunting hound.'

"'I will not be fooled by you again. You place no value on the lives of your wives, and you are no hunter. Both a wife and a hound are no more than accessories to you. Neither is a fair trade.'

"The Duke raged and screamed, but his anger had no effect.

"When his tirade ended, the fae yawned. 'How many more times do you think you can enter my waters with ill-intent in your heart? Soon you will have little flesh untouched by the mark of your greed.'

"The Duke didn't bother to answer. He simply climbed out and put his clothes back on. Though the sores would have hurt a lot, the young woman had no sympathy for him.

"Once he was gone, the fae called for her. She crept out and stood at the edge of the pool.

"'Hello, young one,' they said. 'There is much you wish for. Would you care to make a deal?'

"She shook her head.

"'Come now. Surely there is something you wouldn't mind giving up in exchange to be free of the Duke? Even if he doesn't spill your blood as payment, he will kill you in some other way.'

"She shook her head again. 'I will not trade away my future or memories simply to be free of my present.'

"The fae nodded. 'Perhaps a different sort of deal would suit you then? And before you shake your head at me, let me show you what the future holds.'

"They swept their hand through the water and as the ripples spread, images formed depicting war, chaos, and death. In many, the Duke laughed as the ground turned dark with the blood of innocents.

"'What trickery is this?' she asked.

"The fae sighed, sounding tired. 'No trickery. This is the most likely future, as things stand right now. While the squabbles of mortals would not normally concern me, the consequences of this... it will drain the magic from the land.'

"'What does that have to do with me?'

"'I need a champion. Someone who can change the course of things.'

"'Why me?'

"The fae sighed again, this time in frustration. 'I am bound to this forest, and this pond. I can not leave, and the Duke has made sure most people avoid the forest. You are the first person, other than the Duke, I have spoke to in more than a decade.'

"'And what would being your champion mean?' she asked, still wary.

"The fae grinned. 'A bit of skill, a dash of luck, and a vow to protect the magic of the forest.'

"'Where is the trick? The part that makes the hero regret such a hasty bargain in all the stories.'

"They shrugged. 'Not much of a trick. If you fail to keep the magic strong, your life is forfeit. Though I suspect if that happens, you will be dead already.'

"Perhaps it was arrogance, or desperation to avoid marrying the Duke, but the young woman agreed. And true to their word, the fae provided skill and luck. Enough to rescue a kidnapped princess. Enough to stop an assassin. Enough to replace the Duke."

As the Duke's words faded into silence, the four townspeople frowned.

The cleric shook his head. "The first Duke of Fallholt was given this land after rescuing the Emperor's daughter and uncovering a plot against him by several of his nobles --one of whom had been the Duke ruling these lands before."

"Yes."

"But you're claiming it was a young woman who did those things."

The Duke scratched his chin. "Shortly after rescuing the princess, I realized that despite being born a 'girl,' I was not actually one. People were more willing to believe it was a young man doing all the heroics anyway."

"Wait. What? No. That doesn't make sense," the blacksmith said. "You can't have done any of those things. They happened over a hundred years ago."

The Duke laughed, sharp teeth flashing for a moment. "Yes, they did. And perhaps ten years after them, I met a peculiar laundress who offered my a unique gift."

The trapper's fists clenched, tiny flames licking across their knuckles. "What does all that have to do with us?"

The Duke sighed. "The war Vyrnaed saw was only delayed by my actions. It is still coming. And this time I cannot prevent it from starting. But, with help, I can keep these lands safe."

"What did you do to us?" the cleric repeated.

"I took you to see Vyrnaed. They showed each of you what the future holds and offered a choice. Be slaughtered as the war rolls over us, or be changed so that we can defend our homes." He grimaced and glanced down. "I had expected them to grant you all skills and luck, like they did for me, but... I suppose they thought it fitting that I should lead non-humans, since I haven't been one in a very long time."

The baker's son shook his head vehemently. "No. We should remember it, if what you're saying is true. We remember nothing. And what of the eight who didn't return home? What did you do to them?"

The Duke shrugged helplessly. "As powerful as Vyrnaed is, there is a limit to how much they can do in a night. In order to have enough power to affect all of you a trade had to be made."

"You traded our memories of the evening." The blacksmith's voice was cold and flat.

"No," the Duke said gently. "Each of you agreed. It was your trade to make."

"And the others?"

"I had specified in good health... they did not survive the change."

The four townsfolk stared. It was too fantastical. But they couldn't deny that none of them were quite human anymore.

The cleric broke the silence. "When is this war supposedly coming?"

"If Vyrnaed is right, we have a fortnight."

[goron-king-darunia]

Annon-Guy: I hope this doesn't sound perverted, but would the 14 Symphonia Characters prefer a bath or a shower?

Actually, I don't consider bathing to be inherently erotic so I actually don't consider this perverse. Lloyd seems like he doesn't like wasting time. Lloyd is the guy who invented 5 minute showers. Lloyd is the only guy on the entire planet of Aselia that can cram a shower into 5 minutes. Colette seems like a bubble bath kind of person, but as someone literally primed to be a vessel for Martel and having to go on all those journeys, she's probably more flexible and will take what she can get. Raine showers. Can't have even 6 inches of standing water. Logically she knows she can't drown in that small amount of water but... nah. She's taking no chances. She's not going to risk slipping and cracking her head open and drowning in 6 inches of water, even though their washtubs probably aren't even porcelain (maybe in Tethe'alla they are?) so she has no reason to even worry about slipping. But she does worry. Because trauma is evil and it lies to you about probability. Genis bathes. This is purely a joke about him being unable to reach the showerhead, even though I'm not sure if they even have plumbing in Sylvarant, ergo, the showerhead would just be, essentially, a specialized sort of watering can like a camp shower. But Genis is small. Genis can bathe in a teacup. (I'm sorry Genis, you're a short king and I love you but if you tried to shower with modern plumbing you'd be struggling.) Sheena's hard to pin down on this. On the one hand, Tethe'alla. On the other hand, Ninja in a hidden village. My brain says shower but my heart says traditional japanese bathing. Shower first then soak in hot water. But my tiny heart says she's also a bubble bath person somehow. Sheena is difficult indeed. Zelos has, like, a 12 step skincare routine. This guy will shower if he has to but if you put a tub with even lukewarm water in it, he will use it. Depressed bean sits in the tub until he's pruney. If the water's cold, he's not touching it. Because snow trauma but also something something "cold showers shock your system" old wive's tales. I don't think they make tubs Regal can cram all his muscle into. But the OVA did show him doing laps in a pool once, I think? So hypothetically they could have a big enough tub at the Bryant estate. I feel like Regal could also go either way, honestly. Weekday shower, weekend bath kind of dude. Presea seems like, even if she's recovering, she's still the sort of person that if you put sufficient water in front of her, she'll just walk into it, take, like, 10 minutes to clean off, and then just walk out of it. Tub of ice water? Yep. Waterfall? Yep. Hot Springs? Yep. Rain? Yep yep. Preference wise, Presea probably likes warm showers the best. Kratos, like Lloyd, is probably a 5 minute shower kind of guy. Get in, get clean, get out. Richter seems like he changes preference depending on utility? Too warm? Cold shower. Too cold? Hot shower. A little scrungy? Wet towel. Stanky? Fast warm shower, soap and rinse twice, extra deodorant. Achy muscles? Cold rinse, hot bath, no soap. Stress? 2 hour bubble bath with a good book and tea. (He would never admit to it but I bet he does.) Skincare? Saltwater rinse, exfoliate, warm shower with mild soap. This guy is a water elemental and despite what the Rays summer event said, I guarantee if you put a beach in front of this man and no one is looking, he will go and dip his toes in. Emil showers. Ratatosk probably doesn't. XD "I'm a summon spirit, if it rains that's one thing, but why would I go around getting wet?" And then Ratatosk would realize "Oh. Mortals produce excretions. Smelly ones. I understand now." Ratatosk seems like a whore's bath kind of guy. Wash the important bits and not much else. Emil probably takes his time. That's a pretty well established dynamic. Ratatosk is all about getting results, getting to the point. Emil actually enjoys the process so he takes his time. Marta would see a bath bomb from Lush and go ballistic. 10/10 a bubble bath kind of girl. Probably thinks an oil drum camp bath is romantic because it would require Emil to sit by and

manage the water temperature by keeping an eye on the fire but would actually probably not enjoy an actual oil drum bath. Alice and Decus just for fun. Alice is a hot shower girl and she takes it when she can, but isn't opposed to just putting on whatever perfume she can and roughing it for a bit. Though with Decus around, she probably just has to snap her fingers and he'll materialize hot water for her. Decus has a 24 step skin care routine and artisanal soaps but also thinks that "You stink" means "add more Eau de Seduction." Showers frequently but still smells like ass because he has garbage taste in perfume and believes faulty marketing claims. AKA, this is the dude who gets out of the shower smelling fine but puts on so much Axe body spray that you wish he went back to smelling like body odor because that would at least not be as strong and pervasive.

[classicrocksex]

Angus Young - NSFW Not So Sneaky

The low hum of the tires on the road carrying the band and the wives to the next place could make the mind go to some adventurous places. Malcolm and Linda were sitting in the two seats in front of them, Phil and Cliff in the seat across from Malcolm and Linda, and Bon behind them. It wasn’t a very big bus; therefore, everyone was in closer quarters. Linda’s head was draped over Mal’s shoulder, Phil and Cliff laughing loudly over God knows what, Bon asleep against the window, Angus and (Y/N) looking at the scenery outside. 

She was always the one that started it; the teasing that is. Placing her hand mid-thigh and rubbing small circles. Every so often she slid her hand higher and higher until she heard Angus gulp. Not that he didn’t want it because he did, he just didn’t want to get caught, unlike (Y/N).

“Baby..” Angus said quietly. (Y/N) gave him a sweet smile and gave a simple hum as if to ask why he called for her attention. She knew why and he decided not to call her out on it. He kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.” She squeezed his thigh lightly. He sucked a breath in, his own thoughts going to wild places. Angus thought about how smooth her legs looked in the very short skirt she was wearing. He thought about the way they feel around his head in the morning when he’s waking (Y/N) up with his tongue. Angus felt his jeans getting tighter and tighter. He heard a giggle come from his left side that snapped him out of his dirty thoughts.  

“What are you giggling at?” She glanced down and he blushed. 

(Y/N) put her lips up to his ear, “What are you thinking about?” 

“Nothing, baby.” He lied. “I’m going to try to rest, okay?” 

“Okay..” She gave him a sad look but he kissed her sweet lips, wishing his lips were somewhere else. He closed his eyes and he could see what the two of them were doing just the night before. 

Angus thought about the soft pants that left (Y/N)’s mouth when he swirled his tongue around her clit, just enough pressure to feel it. How her hands tugged on his hair and pushed his face deeper into her. Angus couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he loved to taste her pussy so much but he did. He craved it and treated it as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He could also never figure out why most men didn’t love to eat pussy. Angus loved to feel you squirm underneath him and completely lose control of your body. Maybe it’s just the way he showed his love: making (Y/N) lose complete control of herself when she’s underneath him. 

The night before Angus had her doing exactly that, losing control. He would go from kissing her neck, sucking, biting, licking, to her pussy, to fucking her senseless but when he felt himself get close, he would move his mouth back to her pussy. It’s almost like he couldn’t get enough of her. 

Angus felt (Y/N) move her hand slightly higher on his thigh. He kept his eyes closed and his arms crossed but the tightness in his jeans told (Y/N) that he wasn’t asleep. It wasn’t just him that was thinking about all of the things from the night before. 

Her mind ran wild with the thoughts. She has always loved the way Angus seemed to just worship her body. He treated the task like it was the one thing he’d be remembered for. Because of the intense pleasure, she was intensely loud. So loud that Bon, their hotel room neighbor, banged his fist on the adjoining wall and told them to quiet down, but Angus and (Y/N) being themselves, continued on and it even made Angus want to make her scream louder. But the next morning, this morning, Bon told them he didn’t get a wink of sleep. (Y/N)’s cries of pleasure wouldn’t let anyone sleep. Bon mocked her sounds to tease her and while it made Angus blush, it turned her on. She loved the fact that they could hear how Angus made her lose it. 

(Y/N) looked over and saw Bon still asleep against the window and moved her hand up her own skirt. Angus felt her hand leave his thigh so he popped open one eye and saw what she was up to. Her hand was under her skirt and cupping her heat. Angus grabbed her hand and gave a look of what the hell are you doing. She gave an evil grin. (Y/N) pulled her hand away from him and gently clutched his wrist, guiding his hand to where her’s was before, before Angus stopped her. He didn’t feel a pair of those sexy lace panties that drove him crazy; he felt her soaking wet pussy and (Y/N) open her legs a little wider for him. He closed his eyes and his breath hitched. Angus was already hard but this made him even harder. Memories of the night before, being secretive, and no panties… how could he not be? 

“Why aren’t you wearing any panties?” He said barely audible but he sounded almost desperate. (Y/N) just bit her lip and smiled. Staring him deep in the eyes, she started grinding her hips into his hand. A gasp left her mouth. He pulled his hand away. And now a whine left her lips. “Baby, why aren’t you wearing any panties?” 

“Why did you move your hand?”

“Because you didn’t answer my question… Why aren’t you wearing any panties?” Angus raised his eyebrows. (Y/N) wouldn’t answer. “If you answer me I will put my hand back.” 

“Promise?”

“Yes. Now answer the question.” 

“Because I figured you’d like it.” She didn’t say it disappointingly but somehow this still made Angus feel bad because he did like it; he thought it was one of the hottest moments they’ve had on that bus. 

“Baby, I love it. I really do. You’ve got me cock so hard it hurts, but we can’t do anything right now, not with Bon next to us, the two in front of him, and Mal and Linda in front of us.” She gave him the sad eyes he always fell for. “I promise when we get off this bus I will ravage you like never before, okay?” The look of disapproval still on her face. “Baby, can we make a deal?” 

“Why not right now?” 

“We’ll get caught and we’ll never hear the end of it. Bon is still gonna tease us about last night.” 

“You don’t think it’d be the hottest thing we’ve ever done? Even if we did get caught?” Angus knew she was right. Why not? They’re not hurting anyone. He put his hand back to where it was before and slid his middle finger in between her soaked folds and onto her clit. Her breath hitched. 

“You have to be quiet, baby.” Slowly, he drew circles around her clit and then slid his finger down into her pussy. He’s never understood how she could always be so tight, even after a night of intense sex. 

Angus pumped his finger in and out, in and out, adding his ring finger all while his palm was stimulating her clit. (Y/N) was panting and lightly bouncing her left leg while her right made sure to keep her pussy accessible. A low hum left her lips and he stopped for a second, to give her a second to quiet down. Angus picked up his pace once again and he could feel her pussy tighten around his fingers. With that (Y/N) grabbed his wrist and stopped his movements while her core involuntarily quivering into his hand. Angus could feel her juices soaking his palm. 

Once (Y/N) came down from her intense high, Angus got up and washed his hands in the bathroom. When he sat back down in his spot, he could see her sleepy eyes stare into his as she gave him a lazy smile. Angus kissed her forehead and then her lips. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too honey. Thank you.”

“Of course.” The two of them heard Bon wrestling around a bit and looked over at him. Bon was moving to use the bathroom. Angus and (Y/N) gave each other a sneaky grin and looked back at Bon who was now leaning across the aisle of the bus. 

“I swear to God if I keep losing sleep because you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves, I’m going to cut them off. Understood?” The two nodded at the singer, giggling as he walked away. 

[alaric-wants-his-sunshine]

Alaric adored the way the human boy, Aster, reacted to hearing the meanings of his name, chuckling at his question. “Yes, I am quite knowledgeable in languages so the meanings of foreign names have always interested me.” He answered, taking a step closer to gently brush his fingertips across his cold cheeks that still needed to warm up in front of the fire. “Your name fits you perfectly, whether to be the singular star that lights up the night skies or the wildflower that is the beauty of the fields.” He said in Greek, pulling back to allow Aster to make his way behind the screen to change his clothes.

As he waited with patience, Alaric could hear as the wet clinging clothes were slowly removed, tempted to ask Aster if he needed help when he heard the struggle with his buttons. But he held back as this shivering human had already seemed so shy in changing into new clothes, he would give him the privacy to get changed at his own pace. Alaric hated to think that he would make Aster feel uncomfortable at his home, he didn't wish to see his face with a sad expression etched on it. 

When Aster stepped out from behind the screen, Alaric felt his heart leap, instinctively making his way to the beautiful human and taking the wet clothes away from his hands. For a moment, Alaric didn't move from his spot in front of Aster, looking down at him with wide dark eyes. The nightgown had two thin strings to tighten across Aster's chest and the vampire desired nothing more than to tug on those strings to loosen the knot. His unblemished skin hiding behind the pure white fabric, peeking out between the patterns of the lace that adorned the edges. Alaric had never realised how beautifully made this nightgown was, with such a delicate touch to it. After deep thought, he came to the conclusion that it was Aster who gave such clothing its irresistible appeal, there was no doubt about that. 

Alaric broke out of his daze, clearing his throat and saying “Let me” before taking the dripping clothing towards a nearby bucket he had retrieved. His fingers twisted and wringed out the water from the garments as best he could, shaking them out again before he hung them on the back of the chairs. 

“Come, sit.” He invited Aster to sit on the settee, noticing how carefully the human was moving in his new clothes. Alaric himself knelt on one knee in front of Aster who sat, long fingers reaching to hold Aster's smaller hands and bringing it in front of him. He looked up at him from his position, expression full of fondness and interest. 

Usually his victims would never get the courtesy of knowing his name or that they were falling prey to a vampire. Alaric had always hunted on the evil men of nearby towns, taking what blood he needed to feed on despite it tasting terrible. It was a bloody and quick event, but for reasons unexplained, Alaric wanted Aster to know his name, to know what he was and give him a choice. Aster who was so shy and careful to request shelter and come into his home during a raging blizzard, the boy with wet blond hair and bright innocent eyes that shined like the most precious emeralds of the world. Alaric didn't remember a time when a human caught his attention like Aster did. The vampire wished he was human to breathe the same air as him. 

“Aster.” He started, voice smooth and low, “do you know what I am?” Alaric let the question sit in the air for a moment, not moving from his kneeled position. “You must have heard of the myths.. the old wives’ tales.. the nightmares that haunt the slumbering humans..” His murmur was quieter, eyes falling to his hands now and loosening their hold on Aster. “A vampire must feed every few weeks to live, even if it is to live as a monster who preys on the weak. We were given a selfish desire to live. I am no different except that I promise that you will be safe in my arms. You will feel only pleasure.” 

The vampire’s thumb lightly glided over the back of Aster’s hand before he let it fall to return to his lap and he let his own hands rest on his folded knee. “I wish to drink your blood, Aster but it is not just my hunger as a vampire that I wish to do so. My fingertips yearn to run through your hair, to touch your soft skin. My lips to kiss yours and taste what the snow has left, and my eyes-” Alaric lifted his head to look at Aster, “my eyes have been blessed and all my other senses are burning with envy.” 

The vampire’s lips pulled up into a tender smile.

“Will you let me?”

Pomegranate Blossoms

(Closed RP with @alaric-wants-his-sunshine) Aster shivered into his cloak, pulling it tighter around himself with trembling fingers. Not that it did him much good anymore. The damned thing was soaked through and frozen over again, along with the rest of Aster’s clothes beneath it. He could only hope the leather of his bag had done well enough of a job keeping the snow and rain out. He wasn’t sure how much further he had to go, and he wouldn’t make it long if all his supplies were unsalvageable. 

Granted, he wasn’t sure he’d make it long at all in any case. The snow was coming down in sheets now, a blizzard having quickly overtaken the gentle snowfall of earlier in the day. Aster couldn’t even see the road now, everything around him obscured by flurries of white. Even if the storm let up before Aster froze, how was he to carry on if he wasn’t even sure where to go? Snow like this wasn’t likely to melt anytime soon, and even if he could see the road it was slowing him down considerably to have to drag his feet through it. 

He pulled his hood up to shield him from the wind, a small blessing found in the way the frozen fabric held its shape rather than getting blown back immediately. He squinted through the snow, trying to spot any semblance of direction, a line of trees with a visible gap through it. A sign. Anything.

To his surprise, he spotted the silhouette of a great structure, not terribly far away. Aster dragged himself closer through the snow, trying to gather a proper shape through the obscuring storm. Something… made from stone? A church, perhaps? An odd place for one though, so far from everything. 

Head to get considerably closer before he could see the shape of what seemed to be a castle, large and sturdy and… well, Aster couldn’t really tell how well-kept it was in the current weather, nor could he tell if it was particularly inhabited. He hoped it wasn’t. That he could just slip inside to take shelter from the storm for a few hours and be on his way. He’d really truly hate to bother anyone who might’ve taken up such a residence for the purpose of remaining unpestered by the general population. 

But it wasn’t as though he could waltz into some poor old soul’s house without knocking, nor could he freeze to death on the doorstep. No, that’d be dreadfully rude as well, to force some kind civilian with the burden of needing to dispose of a decaying corpse on their lawn immediately after being freed from such a fearsome storm. 

It was the lesser of three evils then, Aster supposed, to knock on the door and hope no one answered, that the castle had been abandoned long ago and he needn’t worry himself with invading the home of a stranger. 

So, with that same trembling hand he lifted the rusted iron door knocker, dropping it thrice to echo throughout the home. Of course it was then that he realized it was likely a far better option to merely look for a stable to hide in for the night so he wouldn’t need to worry about bothering anyone at all. Alas, it was too late now.

[dailytafsirofquran]

Tafsir Ibn Kathir: Surah Al-Baqarah Ayah 187

Part 2

187. It is made lawful for you to have sexual relations with your wives on the night of As-Siyam (fasting). They are Libas (i.e., body-cover, or screen) for you and you are Libas for them. Allah knows that you used to deceive yourselves, so He turned to you (accepted your repentance) and forgave you. So now have sexual relations with them and seek that which Allah has ordained for you (offspring), and eat and drink until the white thread (light) of dawn appears to you distinct from the black thread (darkness of night), then complete your fast till the nightfall. And do not have sexual relations with them (your wives) while you are in Itikaf in the Masjids. These are the limits (set) by Allah, so approach them not. Thus does Allah make clear His Ayat to mankind that they may acquire Taqwa.

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.

There is no Harm in beginning the Fast while Junub (a state of major ritual impurity) Issue:

Among the benefits of allowing sexual activity, eating and drinking until dawn for those who are fasting, is that it is allowed to start the fast while Junub (in the state of impurity after sexual discharge), and there is no harm in this case if one takes a bath any time in the morning after waking up, and completes the fast.

This is the opinion of the Four Imams and the majority of the scholars.

Al-Bukhari and Muslim recorded that Aishah and Umm Salamah said that; Allah's Messenger used to wake up while Junub from sexual intercourse, not wet dreams, and he would take a bath and fast.

Umm Salamah added that he would not break his fast or make up for that day.

Muslim recorded that Aishah said that a man asked:

"O Messenger of Allah! The (Dawn) prayer time starts while I am Junub, should I fast?''

Allah's Messenger replied, And I, the prayer time starts while I am Junub and I fast.

He said, "You are not like us, O Messenger of Allah! Allah has forgiven your previous and latter sins.''

Allah's Messenger said:

By Allah! I hope that I have the most fear from Allah among you and the best knowledge of what Taqwa is.

Fasting ends at Sunset

Allah said: ...then complete your fast till the nightfall.

This Ayah orders breaking the fast at sunset. It is recorded in the Two Sahihs that Umar bin Al-Khattab said that Allah's Messenger said:

If the night comes from this direction (the east), and the day departs from that direction (the west), then the fasting person breaks his fast.

It is reported that Sahl bin Sa`d As-Sa`idi narrated that Allah's Messenger said:

The people will retain goodness as long as they hasten in breaking the fast.

Imam Ahmad recorded that Abu Hurayrah narrated that the Prophet said:

Allah the Exalted said, `the dearest among My servants to Me are those who hasten in breaking the fast the most.'

At-Tirmidhi recorded this Hadith and said that this Hadith is Hasan Gharib.

Prohibition of Uninterrupted Fasting (Wisal)

There are several authentic Hadiths that prohibit Al-Wisal, which means continuing the fast through the night to the next night, without eating.

Imam Ahmad recorded Abu Hurayrah saying that Allah's Messenger said: Do not practice Al-Wisal in fasting.

So, they said to him, "But you practice Al-Wisal, O Allah's Messenger!''

The Prophet replied,

"I am not like you, I am given food and drink during my sleep by my Lord."

So, when the people refused to stop Al-Wisal, the Prophet fasted two days and two nights (along with those who practiced Wisal) and then they saw the crescent moon (of the month of Shawwal). The Prophet said to them (angrily):

If the crescent had not appeared, I would have made you fast for a longer period. That was as a punishment for them (when they refused to stop practicing Al-Wisal).

This Hadith is also recorded in the Sahihayn. The prohibition of Al-Wisal was also mentioned in a number of other narrations. It is a fact that practicing Al-Wisal was one of the special qualities of the Prophet, for he was capable and assisted in his practice of it. It is obvious that the food and drink that the Prophet used to get while practicing Al-Wisal was spiritual and not material, otherwise he would not be practicing Al-Wisal.

We should mention that it is allowed to refrain from breaking the fast from sunset until before dawn (Suhur).

A Hadith narrated by Abu Sa`id Khudri states that Allah's Messenger said:

Do not practice Al-Wisal, but whoever wishes is allowed to practice it until the Suhur.

They said, "You practice Al-Wisal, O Messenger of Allah!''

He said:

I am not similar to you, for I have One Who makes me eat and drink during the night.

This Hadith is also collected in the Two Sahihs.

The Rulings of Itikaf

Allah said:

And do not have sexual relations with them (your wives) while you are in Itikaf in the Masjids.

Ali bin Abu Talhah reported that Ibn Abbas said,

"This Ayah is about the man who stays in Itikaf at the mosque during Ramadan or other months, Allah prohibited him from touching (having sexual intercourse with) women, during the night or day, until he finishes his Itikaf.''

Ad-Dahhak said,

"Formerly, the man who practiced Itikaf would go out of the mosque and, if he wished, would have sexual intercourse (with his wife). Allah then said: (And do not have sexual relations with them (your wives) while you are in Itikaf in the Masjids. meaning, `Do not touch your wives as long as you are in Itikaf, whether you were in the mosque or outside of it'.''

It is also the opinion of Mujahid, Qatadah and several other scholars, that; the Muslims used to have sexual intercourse with the wife while in Itikaf if they departed the mosque until the Ayah was revealed.

Ibn Abu Hatim commented, "It was reported that Ibn Mas`ud, Muhammad bin Ka`b, Mujahid, Ata Al-Hasan, Qatadah, Ad-Dahhak, As-Suddi, Ar-Rabi bin Anas and Muqatil said that the Ayah means, `Do not touch the wife while in Itikaf.'''

What Ibn Abu Hatim reported from these people is the agreed upon practice among the scholars.

Those who are in Itikaf are not allowed to have sexual intercourse as long as they are still in Itikaf in the mosque. If one has to leave the mosque to attend to a need, such as to relieve the call of nature or to eat, he is not allowed to kiss or embrace his wife or to busy himself with other than his Itikaf. He is not even allowed to visit ailing persons, but he can merely ask about their condition while passing by.

Itikaf has several other rulings that are explained in the books (of Fiqh), and we have mentioned several of these rulings at the end of our book on Siyam (Fasting), all praise is due to Allah.

Furthermore, the scholars of Fiqh used to follow their explanation of the rules for fasting with the explanation of the rules for Itikaf, as this is the way these acts of worship were mentioned in the Qur'an.

By mentioning Itikaf after fasting, Allah draws attention to practicing Itikaf during the month of the fast, especially the last part of the month. The Sunnah of Allah's Messenger is that he used to perform Itikaf during the last ten nights of the month of Ramadan until he died.

Afterwards, the Prophet's wives used to perform Itikaf as the Two Sahihs recorded from Aishah the Mother of the believers.

It is reported in the Two Sahihs that; Safiyyah, the daughter of Huyai, went to Allah's Messenger to visit him in the mosque while he was in Itikaf.

She had a talk with him for a while, then she got up in order to return home. The Prophet accompanied her back home, as it was night. Her house was at Usamah bin Zayd's house on the edge of Al-Madinah.

While they were walking, two Ansari men met them and passed by them in a hurry, for they were shy to bother the Prophet while he was walking with his wife. He told them: Do not run away! She is (my wife) Safiyyah bint Huyai.

Both of them said, "All praise is due to Allah, How we dare think of any evil? O Allah's Messenger!''

The Prophet said (to them): Shaytan reaches everywhere in the human body, that the blood reaches. I was afraid lest Shaytan might suggest an evil thought in your minds.

Imam Ash-Shafii commented,

"Allah's Messenger sought to teach his Ummah to instantly eliminate any evil thought, so that they do not fall into the prohibited. They (the two Ansari men) had more fear of Allah than to think evil of the Prophet. Allah knows best.''

The Ayah (2:187) prohibits sexual intercourse and anything like kissing or embracing that might lead to it during Itikaf. As for having the wife helping the husband, it is allowed.

It is reported in the Two Sahihs that Aishah said,

"Allah's Messenger would bring his head near me (in her room) and I would comb his hair, while I was on my menses. He would enter the room only to attend to what a man needs.''

Allah's statement:

These are the limits (set) by Allah, means, `This is what We have explained, ordained, specified, allowed and prohibited for fasting. We also mentioned the fast's objectives, what is permitted during it, and what is required of it. These are the set limits that Allah has legislated and explained, so do not come near them or transgress them.' so approach them not.

Abdur-Rahman bin Zayd bin Aslam said, "Allah's set limits mentioned in the Ayah mean these four limits (and he then recited): (It is made lawful for you to have sexual relations with your wives on the night of As-Siyam (fasting).) and he recited up to: (then complete your Sawm (fast) till the nightfall). My father and other are used to say similarly and recite the same Ayah to us.''

Allah said:

Thus does Allah make clear His Ayat to mankind, meaning, `Just as He explains the fast and its rulings, He also explains the other rulings by the words of His servant and Messenger, Muhammad.'

Allah continues: to mankind that they may attain Taqwa.

meaning, `So that they know how to acquire the true guidance and how to worship (Allah).'

Similarly, Allah said:

It is He Who sends down manifest Ayat to His servant (Muhammad) that He may bring you out from (types of) darkness into the light. And verily, Allah is to you full of kindness, Most Merciful. (57:9)

[cherr-e]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 | based in 18th century Korea - JOSEON.

❝ You were never meant to live for love, ranks and hierarchy mattered the most. Prince Lee Taeyong was at the top of the hierarchy, he was the youngest out of four brothers. He knew he was not made for the throne and lived his life away from the epicentre of Joseon, in peace with his poems and music. Yet the son of his father’s respected friend peaks his interest in what he would later on define as love. ❞

DISCLAIMER ⚠️ this is an alternate universe of the ship OLIYONG. this is a piece of fiction, and does not refer to any location or individual throughout this mini-series from start to finish. this is not a historical or documentary work and is purely made for entertainment.

[...] means a soundtrack that would sound nice in the scene, similar to a movie. 

masterlist | episode one:- we’ve become part of the past.

The petals of cherry blossoms swayed underneath the hands of the wind, it was the end of another spring which meant Prince Taeyong had to attend to his seasonal visits at the main palace. The place where he spent most of his childhood and teen years, trapped and lost. His brothers busy competing to become better than the other and that was why he had now resided to the countryside. Away from his royal duties, and only payed respect to his father. 

A few days and he’d be home again, busy humming along to his poems and music while he played to the young children of the small village he resided in. “How long will you stay here?” His right-wing man, Taeil, spoke up after throwing back a shot of rice wine from the local bar they frequented in Hanyang - the capital of Joseon. “I don’t really know, probably for two days. There’s nothing interesting about my family’s lives. Same old shit, brothers fighting over who’s the better royal. Don’t even get me started on their wives.” Taeyong rolled his eyes at the thought of those evil gossipers. They probably wondered why he wasn’t wed yet, making up rumours that he would bed men of the countryside. 

Well he did have an open opinion towards love, but at the same time believed love was for the weak. It was something his family would use against him, if he ever felt that emotion begin to wrap its fingers around his mind - he would push it to the ends of the earth and forget it in his tattered books. “You’re dozing off again.” Taeil munched on the anju served with the alcohol - “I’m already thinking of heading home.” Taeyong sighed, his eyes shining with sadness and regret. This was how it was with every seasonal visit, he was reminded of how boring his life was. A life many strived for, but he felt like his opinions did not align with society. Not anymore at least. 

An hour had passed, Taeil taking it slow with his alcohol yet his superior had downed two bottles of rice wine and soju, forgetting about the busy day ahead of him tomorrow. The royal prince looked sad whenever he was drunk, the walls he built around himself after all these years tumbled after a sip of alcohol. A lost young frail boy, with big shining eyes that yearned for a new life - his face was clean-shaven, sparse from any form of facial hair. He looked more like a young naive boy despite being in his twenties and having his fair share of problems.

[ ... lover’s first ]

“Let’s head back to the palace Taeil-ssi.” Taeyong slurred, cheeks pink and puffy. “I’ll pay for the alcohol. Wait for me at the entrance.” Moon Taeil smiled softly while his friend scurried off to where he would stand, but the sound of a loud performance had dragged his tired body towards the buzz of the street. Like a moth to a flame. He was enraptured by the sounds of Hanyang at night, lost in the midst of crowds, he was normal and he probably looked like a useless drunkard to others. It was the buzz of the night that drove Taeyong’s adrenaline, he swam in the crowd. Wind hitting his face as the cold night began to dance between the people. Soon, droplets of rain had fallen on his face - pitter patter they fell. Droplets became a light drizzle, some of the crowds ran to seek shelter and the business men sprinted to protect their stands from getting wet. 

Being lost in the crowds brought euphoria to his melancholic soul, losing concentration of reality lead to him slipping on the wet floor and bumping into a taller large build. Papers and brushes scattered across the ground, soaking in the water from the skies. Taeyong helped pick up the mess he created, apologising quickly as he repeated “sorry” a billion times. The artist grinned, finding the younger man’s drunk state slightly amusing. 

“You draw well.” He handed the artist the last painting. “Thank you.” The man had a deeper voice, slightly rough with an accent hidden at the end of the two words he spoke. “You sound like you’re not from Hanyang.” Taeyong pointed out, the rain still continuing its assault on the strangers “you could say that.” He smiled again, this time it made Taeyong’s heart pick up its pace. 

The stranger was a very handsome man, who looked to be in his mid twenties, the tan skin and accent meant he was probably from a place further east but the hanbok he wore looked to be made of the finest of materials imported from China and made by well-known tailors who served the rich. It was dark purple, the sleeves and trousers black - disagreeing with the season that had just recently arrived in Joseon. Taeyong pondered, the artist looked like someone who did not conform to society as the colours he wore did not represent summer at all. Despite the smile and the kind demeanour the stranger had shown off to the Prince, sad souls recognised one another because the sleepless nights lay beneath their eyes, and the colours of summer did not break their cries.

Kim Minjae grabbed his soaked painting from the delicate hands of the drunkard in front of him. The drawings were most likely ruined, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to view his work - he was the son of one of the highest ranking war generals in the country, he was trained to battle for the worse. Not to paint foolish moments he found appealing that weakened a part of his soul, he hated being talented in the arts.

“I’ll be off then.” Minjae chuckled, and Taeyong nodded his head - he wanted to ask for the artists’ name, but he kept quite and stepped aside. “It was nice meeting you Mr Drunkard.” He spoke one last time, and Taeyong watched as the man drowned in the ambiance of the night. The rain still continued, and Taeyong was soaking wet yet he felt very high. That buzz of adrenaline, it was still swimming in his bloodstream, his heart reached to his ears, was it excitement? Curiosity because to that tall man? The rain and alcohol? 

He was hoping the reason for his body to be so awake was of something stupid and not because of that broken artist. The last thing he needed were feelings for a sorrowful stranger. 

“I heard the servants watched you come in late last night.” Minjae halted at the sound of his father’s stern lifeless voice. He cleared his throat and said, “I went out for some air and got carried away a little bit,” he remembered the table manners he had learnt a few months back. Never eat when conversing with someone older than you. 

“Did you draw anything?” General Kim picked up rice with his chopsticks and chewed on it slowly. He never looked his son in the eye ever, Minjae did not know why, He preferred looking at nature instead of his stupid useless son. “No father. I haven’t drawn in a long time.” 

His father grunted in acknowledgement: “well done.” They sat in silence, the sound of utensils hitting against the expensive bowls and plates. Breakfast always consisted of a silent father, Minjae still did not why his father had shown up a few years back in the countryside he grew up in. The expensive clothing, the sleek black horse and the small army that were behind his father - it was a different world to Minjae then, he was used to ragged clothes, playing with the country kids and singing along to their lullabies, drawing whatever he found pretty and appreciating small things. That life was over now, and he had a new future - a better one. 

“His Majesty, the King would like to meet you today, he wants to see how well you fair off on the battlefield and has invited us to sparring with his sons. All four of them. Do well.” General Kim stood up from the table, the servants bowing as he passed by them. Kim Minjae stopped chewing, and threw his chopsticks on the table - not a single goodbye, like its always been. 

The journey to the palace was slightly embarrassing, he wore the finest of clothes his father had brought him - a light blue hanbok with white trousers and white sleeves. He looked soft, happy even from the exterior which only mattered to the king. The commoners marvelled at his looks, he was slightly shy at the compliments and the fawning girls. He was not used to this, he hated being underneath the spotlight - the centre of the crowd. 

Now his father and Minjae bowed down to the King in front of them, he wore his red and golden robes and smiled at the sight of Minjae. “He looks strong Manshik-ssi.” The King had a hoarse voice, like death was just around the corner, a long grey beard that reached mid-way to his neck was adorned on his face, wrinkled skin that had aged over the years. 

Minjae lifted his head up after the King had ordered him to and he gave a smile, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, your Majesty.” The King chuckled, and turned to his sons. “These are my four sons, if I see you worthy today you may be defending Joseon with them one day.” He spoke proudly, and waited for the warrior to introduce himself.

Taeyong was gobsmacked, annoyed maybe, he wanted to curse the skies. Scream even but he was curious, “It’s a pleasure to meet you all your Royal Highnesses, my name is Kim Minjae and one day I wish to be your loyal consort and friend in the nearby future.” 

[ ... the artists’ lullaby ]

“Minjae. Kim Minjae was the artists’ name,” the professor turned to his students after writing up the name on the large chalkboard. “He was one of the greatest artists of the Joseon period, you could even say he was ahead of his time with the portraits and drawings of nature. Instead of following fellow artists, with inspiration from the Chinese, his work resembled European art.”

He clicked his projector remote and showed the countless pieces that Minjae hated, “historians say that he hated his art so much after becoming rich, and despised whoever viewed his art. Apart from one, the fourth prince and son of King Do-hun. Lee Taeyong. Some say they were close friends while others believed they were lovers, the poems Taeyong wrote after he had met Minjae were self-explanatory.” The class chuckled, and the professor smiled. 

Minjae and Taeyong’s love had become part of history. 

[floralfloyd]

A Field of Flowers - Samuel Castell Chapter 2

 Afternoon all, I just want to say thank you for reading the first part of A Field of Flowers and that it means a lot that it’s getting such great feedback. So, it’s taken me longer than expected due to power shortages and a rampage of kittens taking over my room but here’s the second part. I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 1248 words

Chapter 1                Chapter 3

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Samuel Castell stood inside the governor’s cottage discussing company business. His voice was raspy and smooth, just how Lucille imagined it. She didn’t want to interrupt but her days in Jamestown were numbered if she couldn’t get herself a man or at least the job of a maid.

As she stood ready to knock, she felt a presence behind her.

“Ah, Mistress Smith, what could we help you with on this visit? Unless you’re snooping” Temperance Yeardley, an older woman and wife to the governor stood in front of the brunette.

Lucille stood stunned for a couple of seconds as she let her mind think over what she had just been asked, me snooping? Before turning around “Oh, not snooping Lady Yeardley, I was on my way to talk to you actually but realised that your home was busy and was about to turn back”

“Is that so? Well, what would you like to speak about?” she asked as she gripped tightly onto the leather covered bible in her hand, almost if evil would come if she was so much as to let it go.

“I over heard on the ship that you and your husband were to be looking for a maid to help with the upkeep of your home” Lucille adjusted her cloak as she fished her mind for the right words “and I’d like to offer my services. Back home in England I worked part time as a maid for a wealthy family. I still know all the tricks.”

Temperance raised an eyebrow as she listened to Lucille present her case before nodding “That’s very kind of you, Mistress Smith, I shall offer you employment until you can find yourself a husband. After all God did grace Jamestown with the presence of women to bless the men with wives and bearers of babes” she smiled softly “You may start tomorrow morning early after morning bible reading at five, you may join me for that if you so wish”

“Thank you, Lady Yeardley, I promise I won’t as so much let you down. As for the bible reading, I’d like to turn you down on that one. I do my morning prayers at sunrise, it’s the only piece of home life I can really keep around here” she gave the most sincere smile as she moved to let the governors wife access to her own home but as she stepped back she hadn’t noticed where she was putting her feet.

Lucille closed her eyes preparing for the impact she was about to have with the stick wet mud, but it never came. The only sensation she could feel was like she was floating on a cloud of cotton. Her emerald eyes opened to be met with the same piercing blues eyes they landed on at the Wharf a day prior. Her breath caught in the back of her throat again as she became a rambling mess.

“I’m so so sorry, sir, I…I... didn’t seem to be watching these clumsy feet of mine and misplaced my footing…” she rambled hopelessly as her cheeks went a soft shade of rose.

“I can assure you that it’s alright Miss, the main thing is are you alright?” Samuel asked as he gazed over the young woman in his arms as he set her upright. She was absolutely gorgeous, he thought as he let her go taking a step back.

Lucille nodded as she dusted off her skirt making sure that everything was in place, not wanting to look anymore like a fool in front of the man who simply took her breath away, no other words were needed to describe how she was feeling.

“Umm, yes, I’m alright, thank you from saving me from hitting the muck. I’m Lucille” she held her hand out for him to shake

“Samuel Castell” he took her delicate hand in his large one before placing a soft and gentle kiss on her porcelain coloured skin. “It’s no problem, I couldn’t just ignore a young lady when she was about to fall. I hope to see you around more Lucille, it was nice meeting you” His smile could make any woman swoon for miles on end, never mind poor Lucille.

From afar, Jocelyn Woodbryg watched on, deep down she truly didn’t love Samuel, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t pretend. As Samuel began to make his way back towards his own home, Jocelyn chose her time to swoop in like the saint she made out to be.

Lucille watched with a heavy heart as the gorgeous blonde woman linked her arm with the recorder and laugh at something he had said.

A week had passed since Lucille had arrived in Jamestown, the young girl had got herself a small chalet on the edge of the town, nothing to fancy or big, just the right size for a bed and some chairs.

Whilst humming the tune of a nearby songbird, her long bony fingers worked in the soap on the weekly wash by the river edge. She was the first to arrive at the spot and the last of the maids there. The girl liked to make sure everything was done perfectly for her employers.

Samuel Castell was returning from a walk along the riverbank as he spotted the figure sat at the waters edge, her humming capturing his attention. As to not startle the brunette, he decided if it was best that he kept walking.

Lucille was more observant than most had penned her out to be and had spotted the recorder out of the corner of her eye. “Are you just going to walk by without as much as a good afternoon, Master Castell?” she asked as she placed the shirt down in the wicker basket at her feet.

“I didn’t want to startle you, Mistress Smith and please, call me Samuel” he smiled as he took a seat on the riverbank beside her

“That’s very kind of you, Samuel. You may call me Lucille if you’d wish” she smiled a genuine smile as she moved to finish washing Governor Yeardley’s shirt

“How about Lucy? It’s shorter and less formal sounding” the suggestion made Lucille’s cheeks heat up, it was a simple suggestion, but no one had ever shortened her name. Nodding she agreed as she folded the cream coloured cloth into the wicker basket “So, how are you finding being a maid to the Yeardley’s?”

“I’m really enjoying it if I’m honest, I’m not one to sit round all day and do nothing with my time. It’s a routine and one that makes the bread” she said softly as she began to stand up.

The grass was still damp from the morning dew making it extremely slippy and as Lucille nattered on about how working for her employers her footing became slippery and before she knew it, she was on top of the handsome recorder. Gulping she gazed up at him red in the face as neither of them moved.

Samuel’s mind raced miles per minutes as his gaze caught those of the emerald eyed beauty inf front of him, was it fate that kept bringing them together like this? He knew it was wrong, but he began to edge closer until his nose was nuzzled against hers and just as their lips were about to meet, the two acquaintances had to quickly jump apart causing Lucille to lose her balance.

“Lucille Smith! I’ve been looking all over for that face of yours!”

@supernaturalee​ @queensdivas​ @im-an-adult-ish @what-wicked-delights

[tearinglight]

Venus

A/N: Y’all know Zee-Zee is @devnny’s! If you’re in this tag, y'all know! Dear Venus,

Hi. I know I’m only six and that everyone says I’m too young to have a wife, but I want one anyway. 

My teacher and my mom both have wives, so I think that it’s only fair I have one, too. Today I found three pennies that I’m sending with this letter that I know will prove to you that I’m extra, extra sure about this wish! 

So, if you can, can you give me one? My book says you’re the goddess of love and Mom says you get married for love and that’s where wives come from so you’ve gotta be the best person to ask! 

I don’t really mind what she looks like, but can you maybe give me one that really, really likes me? Like, she’ll still like me, even if I do something wrong? Even if I’m not handsome like the baseball players at my skool? Like, if I was the ugliest, most terrible baseball player ever and did everything wrong...could you make it so she still liked me?

And she’s got to be really tough, too! So she could beat up the bullies at my skool. I wouldn’t let her do it on her own, either. I’ll protect her, I promise. She’ll be the bestest treasure I’ll ever have, even better than all of the ones I have in my art box!

She should like art, too. Me and her can doodle together at skool and everything!

Thank you, 

Johnathan

PS: Could you give her green eyes? That’s my favorite color.

Devi sipped her coffee as she looked over the yellowed, crinkly paper in her hands. It had been looked at a lot, judging by the creases. There was even a ring stain from a cup of coffee just like hers in the corner. A smile played on her lips, her eyes figure skating across the scratchy script before Nny walked in. 

“Devi, why are nail boxes all op-” He stopped, his hands freezing mid-wave when he saw the stacks of paper, letters and other sorts of knick-knacks that were strewn around the room.”What is all of this?” “You, apparently. Or the you before all of…,``she sipped her drink, motioning the mug up and down his form. “That.” “You just gestured to all of me.” “Exactly, “ She smirked, putting her cup down and motioning him to join her on the couch. “I got interested if there really was just nails in those things and surprise! I found these squirrelled away. I can’t believe you’ve never thought to look in these before.” Nny looked like he was being shown a rare animal the way he leaned over her on the couch to see what she had dug up. Devi wordlessly handed him a picture she found, one that she had thought was endlessly adorable. At first, she had assumed it was Squee but at second glance she noticed the blue hair that clearly meant it was Nny. He was at the same swingset that Squee liked to use, glaring at the camera with the same expression he held now to look at the picture years later. A confused scowl.

“I don’t remember this.”

Devi was about to say something, but much like a well-timed siren Zee-Zee started crying from her bedroom, making Nny jolt up like a meerkat. Before she could stop him, he was out of the room with a rushed ‘I got it!’. Devi swore that the two were conspiring together against her at night to cleanse her of the dreaded sleep they both seemed to share a hatred for. The front door swung open and shut and a half wet, sulky, teen, mirror image of Nny stalked in. 

Ah. The third sleep hater had arrived.

“Welcome home, Squee.” A non-committal whimper was his reply. She didn’t ask him how skool went. They both knew it was awful. The boy shuffled over, dropping his backpack on the floor and flopping onto the couch, his head in her lap. 

“...whatcha got there, Mom-Vi?” The young man sighed, closing his eyes when she stroked his hair. “Nny’s old nail stuffs?”

Devi shot Squee a questioning look, the teen’s face having it’s own open and curious expression. It seemed that no matter what Devi did, Squee always ended up with the upper hand in their family when it came to Nny. He could calm the maniac down even faster than she could, would coax Nny into the most mundane of family practices, had endless correct theories on what Nny would do…

And, apparently, had explored a past that even Nny didn’t know at some point. 

“You know about these?”

“Well, some of them. Never got around to this many,” He pushed himself off her lap, lifting up the photo that Nny had been holding a second ago. “Most of it was in the basement, ya know, where I’m not allowed? So I was only able to find so many things...like this picture here. Taken with a 33 millimeter Polteroid.” “Where did you learn that?” Squee said stuff sometimes, things a teenager couldn’t possibly know. When others looked into the doe brown eyes they probably saw innocence, which was true. Yet Devi couldn’t help but see a fox’s cunning stirring just under the surface.

“Dib. We know because we flashed at least a million cameras at Zim until it looked similar,” He checked his nails, the purple nailpolish glittering in the light. “Or at least he said that’s what we were doing but he was probably just wanting to blind Zim. Pepi thought either was possible.”

“And that concluded what, Watson?”

“That either Dad’s family were the owners of a really old camera or that Daddy is from at least 1994, Holmes.”

Devi smiled, ruffling his hair. “Good work, Squee.”

Nny walked in, cradling the smallest member of this weird little family in his arms. He looked up, backing away when he saw the evil smirks they had on their faces.

“Nny, my dear,” Devi held up the envelope the Venus letter had come in, it’s return address clear as day. “I believe we are about to find your origins.”