#whats with ancient people and having complicated head wear

[trashcannotcan]

Little drawing practice of faces but tehe ahkemenrah and oc 😁

Sometimes the best way to bond is by your complicated relationship with your older sibling

[saturnsorbits]

Delinquency

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Angst, Smut, Mention of Gangs, Talk of Babies/Starting a Family, Open Ending, Word Count: 2.8k.

Summary: Once a villain, always a villain: Can Dabi really leave it all behind?

‘I don’t have to put up with this…’ Dabi hauls air in through his nose, teeth clenched so tight it makes his jaw ache.

‘You?’ Somehow your eyes get wider. Your lids peel back, exposing the bloodshot white and shining iris’ that almost pop from your head. ‘Please, enlighten me to what you’re putting up with, Touya. Because it sure as shit wasn’t me lying about still being involved with the fucking league.’

Dabi rolls his eyes.

Bites his lip.

Reminds himself that he loves you. ‘You don't -.’

‘Don’t you fucking dare say I don’t understand.’ There’s a shake in your voice as you try and hold back tears, but you don’t drop his gaze. You'd been ten minutes away from ringing around hospitals and praying that he'd been admitted to A&E rather than the morgue when he'd swaggered back in, knuckles sore and face bruised. ‘You told me after all the shit with your dad, you'd be done with all of that.’

Dabi sighs. ‘I am.’

You snort.

Falling in love with Dabi had meant a lot of things: learning to live with the burnt hand prints on your fridge, adjusting to the looks and hushed judgements when you walked down the street hand in hand and the coming and going of the former members of the League. You’d accepted all of that, fuck, you’d hosted dinners for his old gang, had the famous Shigaraki grace your God damn table, but the one thing you couldn’t accept was his complicity. ‘Your fucking knuckles are bleeding.’

He shakes out his hand, wincing as the ligaments tug at swelled tissue. ‘It was one fight - Tomura just needed some guy putting in his place, I’m not going back - I pr-.’

‘Don’t make promises you have no intention of keeping.’

‘Doll.’ He steps forward, arms opening to hold you, but you’re backing away before he can close the gap.

Choking back a sob, you lick the dryness from your mouth as the panic of the last few hours bubbles under your skin. ‘You’re almost thirty, Touya. We have a house, a fucking mortgage…' You bite your tongue and screw your nose up. 'Oh, my God, I was thinking about asking you for a baby. What, I - I must be stupid. How could I raise a baby like this… When, when it’s father’s off burning people to a fucking crisp just because his old boss asked him to…’

Air sticks in his throat. The word ‘baby’ ricocheting around his head like gunfire. ‘Shig -.’

‘Oh, Shigaraki can look after himself.’ You snap.

‘I…’ He wets his lips. Suddenly, his joints don't ache – the pain is in his chest instead. ‘Are you serious? About - about wanting a baby?’

‘Well not any more.’

He steps back as if slapped.

You run a palm down your face. ‘What if you go to prison? Huh? I get stuck on my own with a brat and a house I can’t pay for? Then, what? All because you couldn’t tell Shigaraki that you don’t want to be involved any more?’ There's tears spilling over your cheeks that you don't even bother wiping away. ‘What the fuck happens if you die, Touya?’

Chest tightening, he can feel his stomach ache. The now ancient scars of staples etched into his skin clenching as memories of Hell fire and bad blood threaten to overload his system. Then, you're laughing and it’s ringing in his ears snapping his attention back to you.

Your panic is fading now, being beaten out and replace with something stronger. Anger broils in your stomach so hot that you’re mad with it, but you’re too far gone to care. ‘Fucks sake, the girls were right - I should have dated Natsuo. You think his girlfriend has to put up with this shit? I bet you money he doesn’t come home wearing someone else’s blood like fucking aftershave.’

Dabi can't get his baring. His head is too full to think as the image of you cradling a child, his child, fills the void between his ears. ‘It was one job.’

‘Until the next one.’

‘I - fuck -.’

You shake your head, letting out a shaky laugh. ‘Don’t. It’s okay. I should have known what I was signing up for… It’s my own fault for thinking I could build a life here.’

‘No - wait. Doll -’ He reaches for you again, but you're already out of reach.

‘No.’ You lift your arms into the air in surrender. ‘It’s okay. I get it. The League is always gonna win.’

‘The League doesn’t exist any more.’

‘Could have fooled me.’

You go to bed alone. The darkness is suffocating, the bed too large without Dabi's frame, but even that is better than the smell of blood and spit. At some point, the shower gurgles to life, forcing out the menacing ricochet of thoughts that cause you to wonder just how long your relationship has left. It leaves you empty, sucked dry of everything, but the heavy thundering of the man you love washing blood from his knuckles next door.

The water is too hot, scorching the delicate seams of his skin. Scar tissue and skin grafts have long since settled, leaving him now with a more cohesive patch-work than the back-ally surgeons and staple guns could ever manage. He runs a hand over the scar covering the back of his wrist. That life seems miles away now.

Or, it would if he didn't go running back whenever Shigaraki called.

Which he did.

There was always a job his quirk was perfect for, or a meeting he didn't trust anyone else to mediate, a delivery that would only be safe if it was in his hands. Whatever it was, Dabi always said yes. Maybe it was because being a villain was all he had ever known? Or, maybe, just maybe, deep down, he enjoyed it... Couldn't take the restlessness of a house in the suburbs, a girlfriend who loved him despite all his flaws and the possibility of more: a baby. The word repeats on him again.

He'd never seen himself as a father. Never had an interest. Didn't want the responsibility of raising a brat, or worrying at every single turn if he was becoming his father. It had never appealed to him. That was... Until you.

Now, the image of you swollen and fat, round with his child made his balls ache. You'd look stunning, with glowing skin and one hand permanently rested on your stomach. He wonders if your tits would swell too. If your nipples, already so delicate and sweet would become more sensitive as your body prepared to offer new life to the world. Would the taste of your cunt change, once he finally allowed you to feel full of him. Something he's used to denying you time and time again. The image of you dripping with him, your fingers messily spooning the thick spend back into yourself as you beg for him to breed you burns itself into the back of his eyelids.

His eyes snap open.

Swearing, he reaches down and grips the base of his cock and watches as it twitches, helplessly in his grasp.

Sleep has barely begun to tug at your eyelids when the shower abruptly shuts off. You wait with baited breath, air locked in your chest as his footfalls creep back into the bedroom. You expect him to leave, to sleep on the sofa like he has done in the past when you have argued, but after a moment, he's moving again, rounding your side of the bed and dropping to his knees, still dripping.

Dabi's throat bobs. 'I told him, I'm done.' He mumbles, offering up his phone that he slides to you, screen up, across the mattress.

You push yourself up onto an elbow and peer at the phone where a text chain glows. To his credit, there's a message there – one swearing off further involvement, but still, your heart aches. Biting the inside of your cheek, you bring your eyes up to meet his. 'I don't -.'

He doesn't let you finish. Instead, he reaches for your hand and squeezes. 'I know... I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but look at me and tell me: does it look like I'm serious?'

The muscle in your jaw flexes. You've always had a good read on him. It's the only reason you've both gotten as far as you have.

'Am I serious?'

You lick your teeth.

'I...' Swallowing, he rubs a thumb over your knuckles. 'I mean it, I... Fuck, I wanna give you a baby so bad.'

'Touya – I can't...'

'I mean it.' He cups your cheek with his other hand. 'Don't just believe me, let me prove it to you.'

Covering his hand with yours, you peer into his eyes: searching. You want to believe him. You do. More than anything. 'Touya...'

'Doll.' Dabi leans in, his nose pressing against your cheek as he breathes hot air over your cheeks. In the millimetre of space between your lips, he whispers. 'Let me... Please.'

You close the distance between you and sink into the taste of him. His hand wraps around the back of your neck immediately, keeping you cradled close to him as he lets himself soak into your touch.

Letting yourself fall, you allow his weight to push you back until you're laying flat on the bed, but he doesn't break the kiss once. There's a desperation in his tongue. A passion had always burnt bright between you, hot and fierce, and yet, right now, his whole being is calm. He cages you in, bracketing your head between two strong elbows as he continues to pour himself into you. His tongue breaches the seam of your lips, licking into your mouth with a fever.

'Touya... Touya, please.' Gasping against his mouth, your hands find his hair and tangle in the strands there. You pull, earning yourself a quiet moan that he feeds into your mouth with another scorching kiss. Already you can feel a molten stone begin to burn in your stomach, with each of his touches your doubts are unpicked, his kiss the salve to your worries as he scatters love against your neck.

'Tell me what you need, Doll. Tell me.' Towel slipping from his hips, Dabi finds himself bare. It's odd. To be the one laid so naked while you're still clad in your sleep clothes. It makes him feel stripped, vulnerable and yet, there isn't a single inch of him that is weary.

Letting your hands slip from his hair, you cradle Dabi's face and force him to look at you. 'You... I need you.'

A smile breaks his features then. It still feels strange, tugging unusually at the edges of his mouth as if pulled by invisible strings. Pressing his hips down, he presses his half-hard cock against your pelvis and licks his teeth when he feels the blood pulse under your skin. 'Yeah? You need me, or do you need him, Doll?'

Squirming, you buck your hips anxious to feel more of him. He's searing hot, yet far too cold through the layers of your sleepwear leaving you anxious. You reach down, dropping his face in order to pull at your shorts, trying and failing to slip them from your legs.

Dabi sits back on his haunches, his hands trailing down your body slowly, but firm.

His palms are rough, calloused against your shoulders as they slip lower and take hold of your chest. For a moment he lingers, appreciating with a squeeze. You're so soft and eager, pressing up into him as he kneads at you.

A broad swipe of his thumbs over your nipples has you arching. The desperation inside of you feels as though it might tear you apart as he takes one between his fingers and rolls it, forcing it to pebble quick in the warm air.

'Shh, I've got you, Doll.' Bowing his head, Dabi lays a broad-thick lick against your neglected nipple while slowly pulling at the other. He'd never much cared for pleasure before you. Never really cared about being good. He fucked out of boredom, out of a stubborn biological need that was burrowed somewhere deep inside of him and yet, now... Now he could do without the orgasm. He'd give you his mouth, his fingers, his cock without anything in return if only it meant he was able to bask in your pleasure, to watch, to give.

It makes him want to laugh sometimes, just how much you've changed him.

How much good you bring to him.

If only he could give you something back...

If he could give you the best of him.

'Fuck, fuck... Touy – Touya.' Scrambling, you draw your nails down his back leaving brilliant red in their wake. He likes it. You know he does. Wearing the marks of how he makes you feel, so you don't bother to lighten your touch as you do it again.

Touya drops his head as a moan rolls up his throat and into your ear. The muscle in his back tenses under your abuse, a stark reminder of just how delicate the line between pain and pleasure so often is. 'Oh, baby...' He purrs.

Letting your knees drop to the side, you allow Dabi to nestle between your thighs - closer to where you so desperately need him.

He can feel it, the heat, almost burning to the touch as he reaches down to swipe two fingers through your folds. Usually, he's the one who runs hot, but right now, you're giving him more than a run for his money. His hand comes away wet and sticky. Strings of your arousal drip down his digits, reaching his knuckles before he raises his hand to his mouth and licks you from his skin.

'Touya...' Your heart is racing, hammering against your ribs as you watch him clean himself of you. 'Touya, don't tease.'

'Oh.' He feigns sympathy, before a cruel smirk twists at his features. 'Did you want a taste too, baby?'

There's no waiting for you respond, no answer or rebuttal. There's just a moan locked deep in your throat and then, his fingers pressing down on your tongue. The taste of you bursts in your mouth, mixed with the dull tang of Dabi's spit.

Dabi hums, but the noise gains gravel as soon as you begin to suck at him. He hisses through his teeth, his thumb digging into your chin as he slowly inches his fingers back of your mouth. He growls, hooking a finger to stroke at the plush of your lips. 'For that, missy, I ain't prepping you.'

'As if that's a punishment.' You grin and lift your hips.

There's a hunger in his eyes now. One that is laced with the millions of things he's scared to admit as his expression flickers to match yours. He cocks an eyebrow and reaches for the towel around his waist. Yanking at it, he tosses it off the end of the bed and sits back on his haunches.

You love this bit. The bit were he makes you watch. Your cunt drools onto the mattress, providing the perfect lube for him to begin stroking himself. He dips into you, collecting as much of your slick as he can before wrapping his soaked fingers around his cock.

The slide is perfect. The wetness from you mixes with his own pre-cum, making each pass with his fist divine. It sends shocks of flame up his spine. Licking at his vertebrae, the pleasure builds, bubbling in-between sinew and cartilage, forcing him to bend. He leans into it, letting his body roll to find more of the pleasure he craves. 'Fuck...' He sighs, taking his bottom lip between his teeth. Pressing his cock to your entrance, he tilts forward and then...

His phone rings.

-> Masterlist

[vickracker]

🚨🚨🚨(WARNING: THIS TWEET CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE LEAKS OF HAZBIN HOTEL SEASON 2, IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THEM I ASK YOU DON'T WATCH IT, THANK YOU)🚨🚨🚨

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Hi guys Vick Racker here, I just came to share some thoughts and theories about the Hazbin Hotel leaks just to chat and exchange ideas with you,however I've been thinking 2 things about this:

1-What would Alastor's powers be like if he had never met Rosie?

2- His relationship with Vox is more complicated and sad along with this fact.

Well, let's begin!

1

Independent Alastor:

As those who saw them know, Alastor gave his soul to Rosie in exchange for power to protect himself from the demons of hell,giving him the powers we know in the voodoo magic series, as well as in the story that Minzy tells, he overthrew the ancient overlords of hell and is known by everyone as "The Radio Demon". However, I've been thinking to myself what Alastor's powers would be if he had never met Rosie and sold his soul to her?

(rant: VALUE YOURSELF MAN, DON'T LET THIS WOMAN MAKE YOU HER SLAVE, EVEN WITHOUT THESE POWERS YOU ARE STILL THE FUCKING AWESOME RADIO DEMON!!!)

taking a deep breath 😤😩

As revealed to us in Alastor's life before his death, he was a charismatic, charming, handsome radio broadcaster (I loved his human form, I won't forgive Vivienne Medrano with his demonic design that doesn't even come close to being as perfect), but he also practiced voodoo trying to access the other side, practicing rituals and having that radio to try to communicate, in addition to the fact that he was a cannibalistic serial killer.

Putting this information together, I believe that his powers would have voodoo traits, but not in such a blatant way (I think this is on Rosie's part) he would be more inclined to the voodoo practitioner than I don't know his demonic form with seams that looks like a voodoo doll that someone else could do whatever they want with him, anyway what I'm saying is, his powers would be very different because they are HIS and not GIVEN FROM SOMEONE, they would have their own traits, but his main powers would be radio, a little more evident, not only in his voice or the bugs he makes when someone tries to record him or watches him on TV in the Vox case, but mainly his power of radio waves that could be more powerful and with his charm attracting people (a little similar to Vox and his televisions but different), cheering people up, convincing them or even transporting energy what radio waves do in real life, which in my theory about the end of Hazbin Hotel he could use this power to transfer a battle song sung by him, by Charlie and all the hotel staff, making the demons stronger for the imminent war between heaven and hell, since it is a musical and is one of the main points of the radio playing music.

Even though it does not have the same impact as him with the powers GIVEN BY ROSIE, he could indeed protect himself and become an overlord and continue with his sadistic fun. (the guy doubts himself a lot) In addition to having powers like a deer, the horns, the senses, the jumps that deer make, etc.

His appearance would also change, I think he has his hair cut like that and the costume like that to be more presentable for the cannibal city, otherwise he would have his curly hair with the red that represents the blood from his head after he was shot in the forehead, his costume would have more characteristics of his New Orleans radio broadcaster costume,also keeping the mustache and wearing the glasses he wore in life. I think the monocle is more from Rosie's time than his time in the 1930s.

2

More Complicated and Sad 📻💔📺

Now going back to the friendship between Alastor and Vox, along with this information it could be the saddest and most complicated friendship in this series, since Alastor made that deal to protect himself from the demons of hell that are more powerful than him.

(I could even make an analogy to powerful white men who could do whatever they want and he would have no chance of competing for being a black man, and to make matters worse he appealed to Rosie, a white woman, to have her powers and survive in the face of those predators and he would be a "deer" a prey).

Counting all the suffering he went through with Rosie and taking away Minzy who they knew in life and also taking away the people at the Hotel, Vox would then be the only demon in all of hell that Alastor really trusted and allowed himself to be his friend to the point of taking a picture of him without those bugs, seeing that this photo was taken from a camera from the 50s or 60s, since Vox probably died in the 50s, because at that time TV gained strength to become what it is today, that is, they were very close, in the episodes of season 1 there are several scenes of them that parallel each other, indicating even more the closeness of both.

But unfortunately, this trust of years was broken by their fight that I theorize was not only because of Valentino and the alliance between them, but also because he changed both in appearance and personality, becoming blinded by power ( Power that Alastor also longed for,but we both know how is ending),success and fame, and this affected Alastor because he no longer recognized him as if that old friend was slowly disappearing, thus refusing to join the Vees and this friendship ended as it did and the two became enemies of each other.

The phrase that Vox always says:

"trust us"

never made so much sense. 😢💔

[tales-of-wocdes]

How will the orphanage react to an MC who doesn’t care about wearing clothes just waking up one morning and since their tired, forgot about the strange norm about wearing clothes and just walks around with nothing but their ancient cloak on their body

"Kid, it's all fine and good to like your awesome cloak, but.... people might take it a little wrong."

You tilt your head at her... Did you forget something? You do have an awesome cloak! You look down... Nothing seems to be wrong here. You are covered by the cloak!

Your toes are peeking out from under the hem... You wiggle them a bit. It is not cold out here.

You stare at Lexia.

"I mean if you wear nothing under the cloak, kid."

You stare up at her. Why do people care so much about what you wear? You have your cloak! It's enough. It covers all the bits all those complicated clothes that are annoying to put on cover! And it is much cooler!

Seeing your confused, and perhaps a tad defiant expression, Lexia sighs. "You know what? The cloak is fine." She smiles. "Just... avoid strong winds, ok."

--------------------------

"MC, remember our discussion about clothes?" Havard asked.

You peer up at him... You have a vague recollection, so you nod.

"Would you be amenable to wearing some under your cloak?"

You look down. Right! You felt like you forgot something. Adults were so fussy about the most curious things. Why does it matter if you have stuff under your cloak? It's just you under there. Besides, those clothes things are annoying to put on and just get in the way when nature calls!

Life outside the void is so confusing.

"Come along now. We are getting you your clothes MC. Inside the orphanage, it is not a huge deal but out in the city, you could get into trouble for not wearing anything under there." He says as he leads you towards your room. "So it is best to learn the habit now."

You sigh, and wonder if you will ever remember all these rules that seem to have no real bearing on life.

[stalkedbytrains]

The Heist of Ettward Ossk's Ancient Semminatar Death Mask

With a dramatic sweep, the woman in the long coat entered the room, threw off her coat and sat down before the assembled team of thieves.

"Glad to see you're all here," she said in a slightly husky voice of either too many cigarettes, too much whiskey, or too little sleep. Probably all three. "I have worked with each of you on other jobs in the past, but this is the first time you've worked with each other."

She fished a pocket watch out of her vest. "We've got five minutes for introductions so let's get this over quick. You know me. I'm Issa, I'll be coordinating and running this team."

Issa stood up and walked around the table. She stopped behind each chair as she announced each person.

First up was the tall, whip thin man with his feet up on the table. He was totally bald but had an impressively maintained beard. "Arcus is our lockpick for this job."

Arcus waved one hand in a languid movement, but said nothing.

Second up was the man that was wearing long sleeves despite the relative warmth of the room. He seemed unbothered. "This is Navrog, he's our muscle."

He declined his head slightly. "Pleasure."

The third person was a woman with an immaculate sense of style in a high necked blouse and exquisitely accessorized. "Sem here is our face."

"Charmed," she said with a slight Minan accent.

Finally Issa walked by the youngest of the group, the tiny woman who seemed barely tall enough to sit at the table much less be involved in the job.

"This is Amthya, she's our runner."

"Hey-o," Amthya said.

Navrog spoke up. "What do we need a runner for? Is the job time sensitive or are we operating in a big area?"

Issa finished her circling and sat back down at her chair. "Yes, and yes. We're going to be going to the Clutches and stealing an Ancient Semminatar death mask owned by Ettward Ossk."

There was a collective series of groans from the thieves.

Issa gave them a moment to let them have it. After a few seconds she continued.

"Yes, yes, everyone's favorite punching bag. Ossk is extremely rich, extremely paranoid-"

"An extreme dickhole," Amthya cut in.

"That too," Issa agreed but with a flat look at her runner. "He sucks. But he is also very protective of his stuff, which is why it is going to be so hard to get this death mask."

"He also has a very nice collection of Dead Land artifacts," Arcus pointed out.

"Yes. And you know my policy for my teams. Help yourself so long as it doesn't compromise the mission. Once we've gotten the death mask and we're on our way out, you can take whatever you want. But if you take something and get us into trouble after that fact I will leave you behind. You take something and compromise the mission before we get what we need I will see you lost in the Castle."

Invoking the Castle as a threat was deeply serious to these thieves and all thieves. The Castle was a dark, inescapable dungeon that was the home of an untold number of extremely dangerous people that were too dangerous to leave out in the public and too dangerous to execute. If someone was sentence to a prison term in the Castle, there was no chance they would ever be getting out, they would be lost there, forever.

"What is the plan?" Sem asked quietly.

Issa sighed. "That's where things get complicated. Ossk is having a big gala in his Clutches mansion at the end of the week. We can get in via the guest list. I already have a few identities slipped in. But here is my confession and your one chance to back out."

The room grew quiet, tense.

"I had one team working with me on this before you. We were doing our reconnaissance, but they've disappeared."

"They walked off the job?" Navrog asked.

Issa shrugged. "Maybe. Or they were caught. Killed maybe. I really do not know what happened to them."

Amthya swallowed dryly. This was bad news. She was concerned, but not so concerned as to back out of the job. She always had a way out.

"This job is going to be very dangerous, but the payout is going to be extensive."

"How extensive?" Arcus asked.

"Five million each," Issa said.

Arcus whistled. "That's good money."

"Good money for dangerous work."

"Who is willing to pay that much for a death mask?" Sem asked.

"Some Pollepemu collective. I don't have specifics. You know how it works, intermediaries and everything. But the funds are in an escrow account so it's all there."

"And we get to nick whatever we want," Amthya muttered.

"Once the job is done, if you want to rob whatever, feel free. But only once the mask is dealt with."

"His collection of Dead Lands stuff will fetch a hefty price."

Issa leaned back in her chair, adjusted her hair, and let the team talk among themselves. None of them expressed wanting to back out. That was good. The payout would be hefty. But it was going to be worth it if they can get to the mask.

After a few minutes, she spoke up again. "We are going to be working a bit blind, so we need to get there as early as we can and then work on figuring everything out. I have a general layout of the mansion, and some educated guesses, but like I said. We're operating blind. Arcus is going to be getting us through most security traps, Navrog will be dealing with the human aspect. Sem will be chatting with the guests getting information and probably picking some pockets for keys. Amthya will be getting materials to and from as necessary. As you can see the mansion is pretty big so we've got a lot of ground to cover. I'll be floating, helping out whoever needs it the most and trying to cover the gaps where I can. Everyone in?"

"Yeah," Arcus said with a small grin.

Navrog just nodded. Sem agreed. Amthya was practically bouncing, ready to get started.

"Good," Issa said. "We've got three days before the gala so any of the prep work we would usually do has to get done now."

[tgrailwar-zero]

Can we conjure a nice fashionable Accessory to wear for the Party?

You focused incredibly hard, and managed to give yourself a nice hat.

Now you look like the life of the party.

KUKULKAN: "Huh? Did I say something weird?" MUSASHI: "Hehe. I don't think so! 'Nice body', absolutely!"

KUKULKAN: "I want first dance!"

Like a rocket taking off, you were suddenly scooped up into the air and spun around, KUKULKAN giggling happily as she pulled you around in the air, caught in a zero-gravity waltz.

Though once you were high enough, her smile faded. She began, rather abruptly, as if this had been something lingering in her mind for a while. Despite you dubious tangibility, you could feel her grip tighten a bit.

KUKULKAN: "Gods are supposed to be cold and discerning, right?"

She asked, suddenly.

"They're supposed to do what needs to be done, no matter what happens or who gets hurt. But now, now I'm starting to have doubts. Gods are supposed to be powerful, and skillful… but all I'm really good at is beating things up, how can I be a wise god like that?"

It seemed like KUKULKAN saw herself as a 'fledging god', compared to others. It was a bit odd, the name 'Kukulkan' was that of an old god from an ancient civilization, and one that became conflated with the idea of wisdom and creation. And yet, when she spoke about herself, it seemed more as if she was simply borrowing the title.

She spun you in the air a bit, before catching you, resuming her statement with a complicated expression.

KUKULKAN: "I meant what I said. I don't feel any love from the Solar Cell itself… but the people who live here, the people who work so hard to live, just like the people of Earth. Despite there being a part of myself deep down telling me to just let Draco wreak havoc, that it would just make it easier… my heart was glad that we helped them. I wonder if it felt good for you too, even if we didn't learn what we needed to?"

Her voice got quieter, turning into a low, uncertain whisper.

KUKULKAN: "My 'Origin'… or my 'heart'… love, or destruction… how do you choose when both seem like the right answer? Which is which, when looking at this place? It's all so... much. And if I can't decide... what right did I have to make you choose...?"

KUKULKAN: "Sorry, Masters. You summoned an unreasonable goddess who hasn't figured out her feelings yet. I thought I was certain, but now I'm not. Maybe I'll be uncertain forever, I don't know… my 'god level' isn't high enough for a task like this."

KUKULKAN: "So, until I can trust my feelings, this 'Kukulkan', this Foreigner, this 'Invader from another world'… is going to put her trust in you, okay? Sorry for unloading like this, I know that this is your celebration-- and you earned it! I… I just had a lot on my mind."

She put you down, a slight feeling of dizziness and vertigo swiftly fading as MUSASHI and CONSTANTINE rejoined you.

CONSTANTINE: "What were you two chatting about up there?" KUKULKAN: "Aha, nothing! I was just being a bit of a motormouth, yes?"

MUSASHI: "From how she was whispering, it seemed like a confession? Come on, spill it!" KUKULKAN: "Well... I guess that isn't totally off the mark. It was a 'confession' of sorts, yes! But I got embarrassed and put them down before they could respond." MUSASHI: "No way, really?!"

CONSTANTINE: "I have to agree. I'd figure a situation like this would be too stuffy for her." MUSASHI: "Maybe she's here on business?"

You could see her blanch a bit, though she waved it off.

MUSASHI: "Not... particularlyyy... but if you need me to, that's fineee..." CONSTANTINE: "Miss Musashi, you seem a bit pale. Do you need me to get you anything?" MUSASHI: "Sheesh, such a gentleman..."

KUKULKAN: "This is a rare chance, isn't it? Go off, have fun! Show off your body! We'll keep ourselves busy!"

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Cup, Crow, Rose

Fandom: Grishaverse: Six of Crows and Shadow and Bone Summary: Soulmarks are complicated. Nina's life is already so complicated that she doesn't want to seek them out. Like her teachers always warned, though, her soulmates seem determined to find her one way or another. Warnings: Canon-typical trauma and soulmates Word Count: 2,648 Ship(s): Nina Zenik/Matthias Helvar/Inej Ghafa/Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck/Kaz Brekker

Archive link!

A/N: Is anyone really surprised that I chose to go with polycrows for the free day? I love them so much, lol. I also had a lot of fun exploring the soulmate AU that I wanted to do for this, so I hope that you guys also enjoy it! One day I might expand this into something bigger but I kind of like having it as a character study type thing. Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Each soulmark was different. A pair or group of soulmates would have a throughline that placed them together so that they could find each other, with varying levels of intricacy, but the soulmarks would all be different. For a pair of soulmates, the mark would be the same except for one thing that would represent the other person. For a group of soulmates, the mark would be different for each person that they were to meet so that it went in a sort of circle. Group soulmates were complicated and very rarely did the entire group actually find itself.

Nina had grown up seeing the soulmarks of the people around her, presented proudly once they had found and married each other. Her older sister figure Zoya’s was a mix of leather wings pocked with scales that shimmered iridescent when displayed in the light correctly, conversely swapped on the back of her soulmate. Her other friend Genya had a book with ancient writing and a vile of dark red liquid on the back of her hand, a perfect match with her own soulmate. Nina had even been exposed to a queerplatonic soulmate marking too, a Inferni named Harshaw that had a cat made out of fire wrapping around his neck and collarbone before it met with a sunburst across his chest. She didn’t know the man’s soulmate so hadn’t seen how it had changed towards the other person, nor had she ever actually gotten a good look at a group of soulmates with marks like what hers appeared to be.

Nina’s mark was a crow grasping for the last little bit of liquid in a wine glass, the beak and head warped with the shape of it. In addition to that was a single knife that touched the bottom of the glass. It tilted towards the crow but did not slice, like the bird was somehow performing a trick while trying to get its drink. She had learned how to hide it under the layers of her sleeves when she was out and how to cloak her skin over the top of it so that it was obscured when she had to undress in front of someone. For a spy such as herself, it was very dangerous for people to be able to identify her by her soulmark. 

The first time that Nina saw one of her soulmarks, she was trapped in the belly of a slaver ship. She had her hands chained above her and could barely keep her eyes open because of the water seeping through the slats above her. It was dark and she was shivering with the force of the cold around her, so it was hard to make out. The mark had stood out starkly even amongst the heavy furs and wool that the Druskelle was wearing, black lines evident on his pale white skin. The crow drinking from a nearly empty cup appeared to be the throughline of their soulmark group because they were identical on the man in front of her as they had been on her own skin before she had hid it. The only difference was that the liquid at the base of the cup was holding a single rose that was weeping petals down onto the bird.

She of course hadn’t acted on it. There was no way that he would be able to see her own mark and know that they shared the same throughline. She had no idea what the Fjerdan stance on soulmate groups was, it was one of their closest held secrets because those types were so rare. She didn’t know what he would do if he found out that part of his group was a Grisha either. Nina doubted that he would have killed her in that moment because he was so adamant about the idea of her getting her trail for her crimes when she finally arrived in his homeland.

There were many chances for her to reveal her soulmark to him when they had wrecked the ship and washed up on those rocky shores, yet she used what little of her energy that she had left to keep it covered. She wasn’t sure what she could trust him yet when he was still spouting the ideas of the people that he had trained with like if he didn’t then he would cease to be. He wasn’t safe because she was the witch that the hunter was doomed to kill, even if she was falling more and more in love with him by the day.

The next soulmark that she saw didn’t belong to her, but she was sure that the one on her arm belonged to the girl. She had just been through a whirlwind that left her feeling as though she was going to die. She and Matthias had traveled together like they were not sworn enemies over miles and miles of land until they had arrived at a port where she had found some of her people. In a move that she came to regret almost immediately after seeing the way that he looked at her, Nina lied and said that he was a slaver so that he wouldn’t be taken back to the Darkling’s court to be sentenced and killed as a witch hunter. She had tried to retract her statement when she got back, but she was simply given enough money to buy passage back to Ravka. She knew that she couldn’t do that, not when the only soulmate that she might ever know, the one that held her mark, was locked in a jail that she had made for him.

She had been approached by a man that offered her a job. She was promised that she wouldn’t have to work on her back, but rather putting on a show of her powers to anyone that came requesting it. She had said that she would think about it and then buried herself away in the covers of the room that they had lent to her. A young Suli girl broke into her window almost immediately after she was left alone, and it only took a couple of seconds for Nina to see the mark on her own arm.

It was the same crow reaching into the wine glass for the remnant of liquid. The changed element for her was the end of a cane that was pushing the cup closer to the crow, though it was only a few inches and thus not very identifying. Nina had seen it and then stood in the same spot, like the Saints had turned her to stone as she took in the appearance of the other girl. She had long black hair that was tightly pleated into a braid that hung over one of her shoulders. Her skin was bronzed and smooth, though her eyes were so dark that it made her entire face disappear as soon as Nina’s gaze locked with them.

She was offered a place in the Dregs and a job through the White Rose, protection under Kaz Brekker’s name. Inej was the girl, apparently, and she had explained that there was no true safety in the Barrel but there was a fear associated with the name of that man. 

Nina and Inej began a relationship only a week after they had found out that they were soulmates. She hadn’t been sure that anything would actually come of the discovery of another one of her soulmates since so little had happened with Matthias. She knew that meeting a criminal offering her a job was different than being kidnapped by a man trained to kill her, but it had still set a precedent in her mind that was rather difficult to overcome. Inej was more than happy to begin to get to know her and after only a month of dates spent under the moonlight on the rooftops of Ketterdam, they held hands and agreed to pursue a relationship.

Only two months after she had decided to work with the Dregs, Nina met Jesper. She immediately knew that she liked him and that the two of them would become very close friends. He was already close with Inej, though the girl refused to tell Nina how and why. Nina knew that there was something dark in Inej’s past that meant that she was very secretive about things that she felt were personal, including interpersonal relationships. Jesper hadn’t been offended by the relationship that had cropped up between the two girls, in fact he seemed amused out of his mind about it.

His soulmark was revealed to her after a month of her trying to find out by various means of subterfuge. Eventually she had gotten so frustrated about being left out of the loop that she had walked into his room and then slammed and locked the door behind her so that he didn’t have the chance to run. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal the crow reaching into the cup, though his had a delicate pen that had spilled the ink inside. The throughline had confirmed that they were soulmates, though it meant that there was another person out there somewhere for their group.

Jesper and Nina started dating much faster than she and Inej had. It was easier for them to strike up something romantic, and then later sexual, because Jesper didn’t have Inej’s trauma and had already been getting to know Nina throughout their friendship with the intent of eventually dating her.

Her life had only just begun to feel like it was leveling out when she met another member of their relationship. Wylan was a young boy that Kaz brought on to be their demolitions man whenever they had need of explosions. He and Nina didn’t tend to run in the same circles in the Dregs, which meant that she knew of him in name only. After his second mission with the gang, Jesper had broken into her room in the White Rose only moments after her latest client had left to tell her about Wylan’s soulmark. According to Jesper, it was the same cup and crow but with the paws of a wolf standing on either side of the crow. 

Nina had felt like her entire life was shattering at that. She had been thinking about the circle that they made and how many people could be missing but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Matthias was for her, she was for Inej, Jesper was now for Wylan, Wylan was for Matthias, but Inej’s mark didn’t land with any of them and Jesper was still missing someone for him. That meant that there was at least one more person that they needed to add before they could truly feel complete.

She only found that person after she had finished collecting the others. She, Inej, and Jesper, had started up a relationship with Wylan not long after finding out where he was living after they discovered his soulmark. The four of them found one of the biggest rooms in the Slat and then decided that they were going to keep it as their own so that they could live in the happiness and safety of their soulmates. Wylan wasn’t attracted to Inej or Nina, so they eventually discovered that he was meant to be their queerplatonic soulmate.

It was difficult and there were quite a few bumps in the road as they figured out how to navigate being soulmates while also being criminals, but they were all stubborn enough to make it work. Secrets were spilled, trauma was revealed, and love was confessed. They found out that Inej had been taken and forced to work in the Menagerie, that Jesper was zowa, that Wylan couldn’t read and who his real parents were. It could have very easily driven them apart but instead it only served to weave them into an intricate, loving mess with each other.

Yet, despite everything that her lovers had shared with her, she was unable to tell them anything about one of the missing members of their circle. The night before the beginning of the Ice Court, though, it had all piled out of her. She admitted what she had been before she came to Kerch and then how she had met Matthias. She told them about the way that he laughed, how he ate his reindeer meat only after soaking it in water because chewing made his jaw hurt, how he snored in his sleep, and how he was the sweetest man she had ever met when not trying to kill her.

They rescued him and then the others had forgiven her for keeping him a secret. She nursed the bruises on her neck while crying into Jesper’s lap while Wylan held her spare hand. It was hard to know that her soulmate didn’t want her, that he was unwilling to give up the way that he had been raised for the two people in his group that he had been taught to hate when they would bring him only joy.

Then the Ice Court had happened and he was deprogramed after seeing the way that they all cared for each other. They didn’t have time to talk about it after she had taken the jurda parem so that she could save them on the dock, but she knew that he loved her again. 

They had spent a lot of the journey nursing Nina back to health and talking about the little house in the country that they could get. Inej had spoken about a boat that she wanted to get so that she could hunt slavers, and Matthias had seem keen on joining her so that he could put his skills to good use. Nina knew that Wylan wasn’t suited for that kind of work and would prefer to make art in the comfort of his own home, so she was okay with staying with him during her long recovery before she joined the others.

They came back to their city and found out that none of the money was waiting for them. They lost one of their soulmates and were stuck with the captive that they had just stolen from the most prestigious prison in the entire world. Kaz planned and schemed and they followed after him like they always did. Eventually, they got Inej back and things kept rolling. They were able to create a convoluted but thorough plan to take Jan Van Eck and Pekka Rollins, the two men hunting them, down.

Finally, everything was over. They were able to get Wylan’s mother back from the countryside to the home that she had chosen and where she belonged. Alys was sent up to a boathouse where she could live with her real soulmate and birds in peace. They all needed a good deal of time to recover, so they moved in the Van Eck mansion since it had plenty of room for them to grow and expand.

Kaz came to their door on a very rainy evening almost a month after all of their problems had seemingly been solved. Nina had been the one to check the door, so she welcomed him as their friend and invited him to come and dine with them. Her other soulmates were seated on the floor in the living room while they ate something that Inej had made. They were all very excited to see Kaz but they stayed quiet because it was clear that he was bursting with some kind of information.

Just like that, Kaz had rolled up his sleeve to reveal a crow reaching for the liquid in the bottom of a wine glass, the stem of which had been shattered by a bullet that was resting next to the completely unharmed crow. He was the last link of their circle and they finally had him.

[ghostjelliess]

Hi, I have to rant about naming customs (socially, not for baby):

I was just doing some research on naming rites for a paper (specifically, I was looking at common patterns of forming courtesy names in the Tang Dynasty) and I stumbled over an old reddit thread of people trying to wrap their heads around ancient naming customs in relation to a show. They were struggling with it, repeating the same wiki quotes and theories over and over amongst themselves. It was sad, kind of painful to read.

It suddenly struck me that many people have no concept of their time. Like, without any technology, your name was your word, it is evidence used against you if someone doesn't like you, or your only defense against false accusation. Your identity is tied to your name, your name is tied to your station and your heritage, keeping it close to you is a private right, but also a protection. At a certain point in Dutch history (and maybe Germanic? Maybe it's just Frisian....), knowing someone's full name could tell you their entire lineage, because family names were cycled through in a specific order by birth and relation (so you don't have to remember your whole family tree, you can just rotate the names backwards and get grandparents, aunts and uncles, etc.)—but if one of those relatives was ✨Prolemat-ique✨, maybe you don't want anyone knowing you're blood-related, so you go by your quirky nickname that has more to do with what you looked like as a baby or a particularly stand-out trait or skill than an actually shortening of your formal name.

And that's not even mentioning cultural beliefs in curses, supernatural beings, etc. that could steal your identity or life by the power your name, OR of any of the historical records or folktales of identities being stolen by the presentation of a secret formal (usually royal) name. A princess is stripped of her title because her maid stole her name no one else was supposed to know except for royals and married the faraway prince. A lord is executed because a con-artist used his name at a foreign port and tanked his credit. The name of a god is kept secret because it's too powerful, or else uttering it at all is punishable by death. Claiming to be who you are not, whether a god, a lord, or a princess, that basic manipulation, was so much easier and potentially devastating, that it was seen as a social sleight rather than a personal one, an unforgiveable deception. And when travel is difficult and people consist of a census count, their living name, an ID tablet or charm depending on their class, and their grave, it's not so difficult to go to a place where the face that matches the name is unknown....

But maybe we don't read these pieces in our stories anymore because they've become so distant to us. We think of identity theft in the realm of sci-fi hackers and Guy Fawkes masks, and academic accolades as a list of nobel prize winners and scientific theory names. Maybe we only think about Rumpelstiltskin's name as a complicated trick because it's so strange that it's unguessable, rather than a potential way to control him, to force him to abide by the social rules and not take the baby, an illegal deal, because names make you accountable to actions. Aren't they still our primary identity though?

I was getting a little irritated (and also a little arrogant), in my field of thought bubbles that were all colliding, then a new thought hit me: we do still value naming customs, don't we. The more I thought about it, the more I came up with modern examples of us being protective of our names. We have "that's my name, don't wear it out," as if a name can be over-used. We give our heroes and villains epithets and titles tied to heritage and position. We write our names on every evidence of our work, signing our art, our cheques, our homework, our presentation files, our emails, our letters. Rappers and producers tag their songs audibly, and every souvenir shop has cases of junk accessories with a few of the most popular names, and whether yours is commonly present or not is a marker of social identity. We get mad when unfamiliar people call us by nicknames reserved for close family, or when they shorten our names without our consent; we reinvent ourselves, we change our names, we even give ourselves names to match cultures as we migrate, and that's not even mentioning usernames (particularly in context of online gaming, where you physically answer to your username because you are a teammate to strangers). Even though modern American English (MUSE) isn't considered a diglossia, doesn't have consistent honorifics or sociolects (highly debatable) within itself, we generally still culturally recognize a parent calling our Full Name™️ as uh-oh-in-trouble, a formal warning, and depending on where you grew up, the normal reserved response of "yeah/huh/what?" might become a formal callback of "yes sir/ma'am."

So then I was triple struck with epiphanies like BAM🤛BAM🤜BAM 👊

1. People struggle with the concept of foreign/ancient naming habits.

2. This is not because they are stupid. It is because they do not relate ancient or foreign customs to their own experiences (i.e. they do not observe themselves with the same scrutiny as they do others, while simultaneously still exhibiting similar cultural habits).

3. We do still hold ourselves accountable to our names, we are still protective of them and use many throughout our lives, because humans really haven't change all that much in five thousand years.

[capriccio-ffxiv]

apple blossom :   how does your muse go about expressing or not expressing their sexuality ?

PHEW that's a COMPLICATED one, for a lot of reasons!

So, up until very recently, I identified as asexual, and grey-romantic. When I created Illyria, it was with the express idea that I wanted to explore a character who is a lot more sexual than me; who is completely allosexual and alloromantic, and confidant about that. Illy is loudly and proudly bisexual; but for her, sex is very casual. It's just another fun interesting thing one can do with friends, there's nothing special or sacred about it. She's blunt and forthright about sex and sexuality, in a way that some of her friends find kind of awkward.

Ryuu... ha. Ryuu was based on a self-insert I made up when I was like, 15/16 years old. I re-tooled her as mostly ace but sapphic, in the way of "not sexually attracted to people, but romantically attracted to women, and willing to have sex with women." That... all changed over the course of RP with my RP partner, when poor Ryuu (... and myself) got "... shit, I'm bisexual" plus "... shit, is this what sexual attraction feels like!? oh no" She's still not terribly comfortable about expressing her sexuality around anyone but her partners (currently Y'shtola and Kian, her co-WoL)

Seshat: Seshat is so damn new and based on my Guild Wars 2 toon. GW2!Seshat was completely aro-ace and Seshat will probably end up the same. Every time I think about "who would I ship her with" I'm like "That cat doesn't have a sexual thought in her fluffy orange cat head."

Hyperion: Ryuu's Ancient. Hyperion liked to put on a pretense of Yep I'm a Totally Normal Guy in Normal Ancient Society, while... secretly changing his sex/gender all the time to see if anyone even noticed. When everyone has to wear the same clothes and masks and hoods, turns out, nobody does. It was a little game he played. Luckily for him, his wife thinks that's hot as hell.

Dionysos: Illyria's Ancient. Dionysos is based not just on Dionysus, but also on Diogenes and the Cynics. Unlike Hyperion, Dio never once bothered to hide or pretend that they were Normal, and in fact in their youth they were briefly Altima before being exiled for writing seditious plays (when they're not Azem, anyway). They were extremely lucky to *only* be exiled and not just executed; Emet-Selch was instrumental on arguing for their exile and not execution (the man was young, recently appointed, and still really liked Dio's plays. Even the seditious ones. Maybe especially the seditious, salacious ones...). Dio was the kind of person to have public sex just to scandalize people and to make rhetorical points about problems with Ancient society.

[writing-on-the-wahl]

Dai Discovers Part 1: Happy Dai

A/N: Hi hi friends! Just a couple important things to know going in: First, this series is about Dai, a half mage/half Dragon who’s been hibernating for a LONG time and has just woken up in the modern world.😇 Second, the wolves and mages in the region are on the brink of war.😈

(For more on my version of Dragons, see this world building post)

Vincent: 

I frowned as I crossed out an entire paragraph of text from the document I’d been editing for hours, wishing the Elders hadn’t felt the need to insert their opinions into my negotiations with the mages. 

Now not only were they insisting we uphold the ancient tradition that a treaty was only credible if accompanied by a marriage between the two sides, they wanted to include all of the wolves’ ancient marriage traditions as well. I’d agree to marry under the light of the full moon, but there was no way I would be wearing a four foot tall headpiece. 

I just wanted our people to stop fighting each other. Why did everyone have to make it so complicated? 

I glanced longingly at the slit of night sky visible through the crack in the heavy hotel curtains, but there was no time for even a quick jaunt in the moonlight. 

Tomorrow morning the leaders of all the mages and wolves in the region would gather for the official opening of the peace summit, the meeting where I would see for the first time the mage who’d agreed to marry me to seal the treaty between our people.

My future wife had arrived at the hotel mere hours ago. Simon and Tori had seen her enter with her brother, Lord Jasper, but she’d been bundled in so many hooded layers the only description they’d been able to give was “average height and reeked of gold.” 

Sighing, I turned back to the long list of potential stipulations for the treaty. The next one was a heavy paragraph outlining how the mages must provide a volunteer to live with and perform spells at our bidding. I rolled my eyes and reached for my pen. The mages made their livelihood by providing their magical services for a fee, why would any of them ever agree to offer them for free?

I was crossing out the ridiculous stipulation when the door to the hotel room beeped open. 

I stayed bent over the thick document, making a note in the margins.  “What is it, Daman?” 

“We think she ran, sir.” 

My head shot up. “How do you know?” 

The quiet blond shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sir, we’ve been keeping an eye on their hallway like you ordered and, well, the shower is still on.” 

I raised a brow. “And?’ 

“It’s just well, we heard it turn on at seven.” 

I checked my watch. 

9:17

I ran a hand through my hair. “You think she climbed out the bathroom window, 13 stories up?” 

Daman shrugged. “They did say she was half Dragon.” That didn’t mean she had wings. 

Did she truly consider a 13 story drop less terrifying than me? Was it this marriage of alliance or the treaty itself that she was more opposed to? I closed my eyes at the thought of this treaty failing, and was assaulted by the vivid memory of acrid smoke and ash-filled air. The charred remnants of Aiza’s house crumbling around me. 

I refused to let one mage’s trepidation destroy everything I’d been working for. I would not let my people fall to this senseless violence. I was halfway to the elevator before I made the conscious decision to move. Daman trailed behind me. 

“And the other mages?” I pressed. Surely they hadn’t all fled. 

“None of the other mages were brave enough to book rooms in the same hotel as us,” Daman reminded me. “They’re all across the street. So we didn’t have to worry about being caught spying.” Daman added, and I recalled that the mage lord had been surprisingly unconcerned about staying alone a mere elevator ride away from a company of wolves. 

Samuel met us as the elevator opened on the 13th floor, the scowl on his face carrying into his gruff words. “It’s still running.” 

I led the way to room 1307. The doors were placed farther apart on this floor—luxury suites. We passed 1310, and even with the thick walls, it was easy for my sharpened sense of hearing to pick up the dialogue of the movie playing in the room. In 1309 a mother hushed a fussing baby, the sound rising over the low snores of a second child. 

The front desk had offered to upgrade my party to this VIP floor at no charge, but I was content with our double set of rooms on the second floor. I liked knowing I could jump off the balcony if I needed a quick exit.

Slowing to a stop outside another identical polished dark wood door, I cocked my head to the side and listened. 

But no voices came from 1307. 

Just the constant white noise of the running shower, and the faintest traces of background music. Like a TV left on at its lowest volume. 

My fist connected with the door a little too loudly, my tapping foot continuing the impatient beat as I waited for the door to swing open. A long moment passed. 

I knocked again, louder. 

No response. 

It was strange. Worrying. Lord Jasper should have been in the room as well. He’d been less than thrilled to offer up his sister as a sacrificial lamb, and tension coiled within me at the thought of him secreting her away. 

“No one left the room?” I confirmed as I pounded my fist against the door once more. 

Daman shook his head. “We’ve had eyes on it all night.” 

It had been easy with no other mages around to catch us spying. I’d been secretly pleased when I learned they’d be staying somewhere else, though in truth, Lord Jasper had looked nearly happy when the other mages had announced their intention to stay in the sister hotel across the road. His reaction baffled me at the time, because it hinted at either a misplaced willingness to trust his enemies or an over exaggerated confidence in his power. Neither of which matched my initial impression of the leader of the mages. 

In our interactions thus far, the mage lord had appeared to be level-headed and optimistic. Which hinted at ulterior reasons for wanting to be separate from the others. 

At the moment, I didn't much care what his motives were, I just wanted him to answer the door. 

They were both gone? If so, there would definitely be no peace treaty. 

What if he’d planned to sneak his sister out? Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to stay in this hotel. It could have been his plan all along. 

Hot anger flared in my chest and I rammed my shoulder into the door. Wood splintered and metal bent as the door flew open at the force of the blow. Across the room, Lord Jasper bolted to his feet, pulling his large headphones down around his neck. The peaceful--yet loud--instrumentals of the Planet Earth theme song filled the room in sharp contrast to the tension hanging in the air. 

A quick touch to the headphones and the music cut off abruptly. 

The typically cheerful mage eyed me, and I wondered what sort of picture I made-- standing uninvited in his hotel room, my two best warriors hovering in the cracked door frame behind me. 

“Vincent.” His eyes flitted to the bathroom door, opposite his position in front of the couch. His fingers twitched but his voice was steady as he ignored our violent entry. “Our meeting is set for nine in the morning.” 

It was a gracious statement, a way to let me back down without losing face. There was a small noise from the bathroom, and the shower cut off. 

“Jasper?” The warm, gentle voice resonated through the door. 

The mage’s eyes bobbed between the door and the imposing wolves. “Yes?” 

“I heard voices. Do we have visitors?” The words were tinted with the timbre of a language too old for names. 

“I-No. They were just leaving?” He shot a questioning glance my way. 

I remained where I stood, confused but pleasantly surprised at the excitement in her words. Up until this moment, my future wife had been an impersonal figurehead to stand at my side and ensure peace between our people. I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of hoping for anything more than that. Now I lingered in the calm left behind the warm voice, strangely impatient to meet its owner. 

Though if any of the elders were here they’d be yapping about breaches in tradition and not seeing my betrothed until the official introductions. 

Jasper’s shoulders stiffened and he kept his eyes on me as he reluctantly called to his sister, “Would you like to greet them?” 

“Yes!” 

The enthusiastic answer made Jasper sigh. 

“One minute! Don’t let them leave!!” 

I had been so distracted by the rich timbre and heavy accent of the girl behind the door I’d forgotten the reason for my impulsive entry. 

She was obviously still here. I should have taken the exit Jasper offered. But it was too late to back down, and a part of me was glad of the opportunity to meet she-of-the-beautiful-voice. 

I eyed the broken doorway regretfully. Not the first impression I’d wanted to make. 

Jasper let out another sigh. “Allow me.” 

I caught his careful wording as clattering sounded from behind the bathroom door, reminding me she could hear just as much as us. 

I dipped my head in gratitude and stepped to the side as the mage carefully crossed through the kitchen and approached the doorway. His hands flew through the air, blue light illuminating his fingers in a soft glow as he made the intricate mage symbols and then ran his finger along the cracked door and splintered frame. A moment later, Jasper closed the perfect door. 

He’d barely done so when the bathroom door whipped open and a cloud of steam filled the room. Daman let out a cough and Samuel fanned the air in front of his face, trying to clear his field of vision. 

“Ohhh sorry, sorry!” The steam vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind the Lady Daiiryn Rensalus, my future wife. 

If someone had asked me to pick Lord Jasper’s Dragon half-sister out of a hundred people, she would have been my last guess. 

It wasn’t just that she looked nothing like her brother. While he was golden haired and tan, her hair was several shades lighter; her skin several shades darker. 

Jasper the Mage Lord looked a dozen times more like a fierce Dragon of legend. His features were sharp and eyes cunning. Her features were soft, eyes wide and bright, hair a mass of damp waves that messily framed her round face. 

Her hands had fallen back to her sides after completing whatever spell she’d cast to dissipate the steam, and I was briefly distracted by the too-long sleeves of the oversized pink pajama shirt completely enveloping her fingers, along with the matching bottoms that were rolled up and bunched around her ankles. They looked like the type of soft but cheap material you’d find in a superstore, though I couldn’t imagine how Lord Jasper had managed to get her size that utterly wrong. 

She looked about as dangerous as a fluffy white kitten, but I had no doubt her claws would be just as sharp. 

“Hello!” Her voice was rich, and her face filled with genuine delight. I’d just broken into their hotel room under the assumption she’d run away from our arranged marriage in terror, and she was looking at me like I’d just bought her a puppy. 

Lord Jasper crossed quickly to her side. “Gentleman, allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Daiiryn Ren--” 

Her quick elbow to the side had Lord Jasper doubled over, clutching his ribs. “Dai!” She stepped forward, roughly shoving her hair out of her face before extending her hand to me. “I’m Dai.” 

I stared at her hand, then glanced back at Lord Jasper, who had recovered enough to straighten. When he’d been reluctant to involve his sister, I’d assumed she was a timid, fragile thing, and that, perhaps, he was ashamed of her. 

“I thought you said people now shake hands rather than bowing…” She’d followed my gaze to her brother, and she was glaring at him with as much force as a kitten gazing at a laser beam that was just out of reach. 

“They do?” Lord Jasper’s breaths were still coming in pained wheezes, and I made a mental note to avoid the Lady Kitten’s deadly elbows. Lord Jasper seemed torn between glaring at his sister for the elbow and staring at me like I was an imbecile for not shaking her hand. 

I jumped forward, catching Lady Daiiryn’s still outstretched hand in mine.  “Forgive me, my lady, I was too distracted by your beauty to obey proper social customs.” 

WHAT. IN THE WORLD. DID I. JUST SAY. 

Then to make matters worse, I brought her fingers to my lips and kissed them. 

All the dignity and pride I carried as leader of the largest wolf territory on the continent vanished faster than the steam from the shower, and I was struck with the desire to find a nice dark hole to go die in. 

Behind me, Daman smothered a cough, and the lady in question’s eyebrows rose until they disappeared into her hair. She slowly withdrew her hand from mine. Her hands both rose to cover her mouth. 

“Oh that was nearly quite perfect!” She whirled to face Lord Jasper. “Jaz, did you teach him that?” 

Jaz shot me a look before smiling at his sister. “No. I imagine he simply wanted to make you feel more at home.” 

“It was quite like something Lord Midan once said to me, do you recall? At the ba--” She trailed off, turning back to me. I wondered if all the spinning was making her dizzy. 

“Forgive me, I didn’t give you a chance to introduce yourselves!” 

A deep feeling of dread welled up at the possibility her friendliness was only because she did not know who I was. 

But then she leaned to the side and offered the wolves behind me a tiny wave. “If you’re Lord Vincent’s men, I should know you.” Her bright smile turned on me. Lord Vincent, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your companions?” 

I stared at her for a moment as relief washed away the panicked adrenaline, too grateful she knew who I was to explain that I wasn’t really a ‘lord’ of anything. 

Lady Daiiryn blinked expectantly up at me, and I jolted out of my thoughts enough to answer her question. “Yes. My companions.” I cleared my throat and gestured to my two best fighters. “This is Samuel and Daman.” 

I froze in place as the Lady Kitten stepped around me, her arm brushing mine in the narrow entry as she warmly shook hands with my bewildered men. “Lord Daman, Lord Samuel, what a pleasure to meet you.” 

From a tactical standpoint, the move was a dangerous one. Placing herself in the middle of potential enemies while cutting herself off from her brother. Yet the cheerful Dragon didn’t seem to notice. Her brother, however, stood stiffly, hands flexed at his sides, as though preparing to cast a spell. 

The tension in the room ratcheted up a thousand degrees as the small Dragon placed herself in the midst of the wolves. I stepped sideways, turning so I had a clear view of both siblings. 

The sister froze, her hand still clasped in Daman’s, finally sensing the building tension in the room. 

“Ohsa.” The word came out a voiceless breath on a sigh, the verbal equivalent of a heavy eye roll. Without turning from Daman, whose hand she released after giving it a little pat, Lady Daiiryn--Dai-- continued,  “Jasper, brother dear, If they came here to kill us, they would have tried already.” 

Samuel raised a hand to cover his snort of surprise while Lord Jasper meaningfully eyed the newly fixed door frame. “Just being cautious, sister dear.” 

Dai finally turned around, a tiny smirk on her pink lips. “I believe the word you're looking for is ‘overprotective.’”

Lord Jasper shook his head. “It is well within my rights, little sister.” 

She snorted, though her eyes danced with amusement. “Perhaps I should be the one being cautious then, little brother.” 

“I’m at least three hands taller than you.” 

“And I’m at least three years older than you.” 

Daman, Samuel, and I watched the exchange, our heads bobbing back and forth like spectators at a tennis match. 

“Well, they will just have to forgive me for being overprotective of my only remaining family member.” Jasper met my gaze as he said it. 

Dai shook her head and shifted so she faced me, though it was her brother she addressed. “If you’re done with the not-subtle threats, perhaps we can get to why my betrothed is here tonight instead of in the morning?” 

Ah. 

Jasper, Samuel and Daman all scrambled to speak at once. 

“He mixed up the time?” 

“--was too excited to meet you?”

“--needed to borrow some milk?”

Every head in the room turned to look at Daman as he trailed off. 

Somehow his excuse made Jasper and Samuel’s seem absurd as well. 

One pale eyebrow rose, though the pink lips beneath it were quirked up in poorly concealed amusement. “And does one typically break down the door to borrow milk?” 

Of course I hadn't been lucky enough to have the shower block out the sound of our crashing entrance to her Dragon’s hearing.

“I thought you’d run away.” 

The admission spilled from my mouth and I jammed my lips shut. I hadn’t meant to say it that bluntly. 

“Why?” She looked bewildered. But not, to my relief, offended.

“The shower was on.” 

“Yes?” Her brows drew together, an adorable pucker between them.

“For two hours.” Samuel cut in. 

Her eyes lightened. “I know! And the water was hot the whole time!” Her oversized sleeves slipped down to her elbows as she held up wrinkled fingers for display. “They look like prunes!” 

I looked up from her in time to see Daman and Samuel exchange a glance behind her back. 

“It’s just--” I made my voice gentle, suddenly afraid to hurt this enthusiastic ball of energy. “People usually don’t shower for hours at a time.” 

“Oh?” She looked utterly baffled at that, and I found myself scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t cast judgment on her bathing habits- which were definitely none of my business. 

“We thought you turned it on to mask the sound of you leaving.” As I spoke, I realized I was admitting we’d been spying on them, but neither sibling looked surprised. 

“Oh!” The sound was brighter. A flash of intelligence sparked in her eyes, but there was no malice as she cheerfully accepted my explanation.  “No, I’m still here!” 

She smiled widely, as though she was happy to be here, happy to be marrying me, rather angry or dismayed at being woken from years of hibernation and forced to accept the hand of a stranger--an enemy--to stop a war she wasn’t a part of. 

The air filled with silence after her proclamation. Before I could think of a way to express my relief that she was, well, the way she was, her head cocked to the side. I recognized the motion, and now that I was paying attention, I could hear a set of footsteps making their way down the hall, so I wasn’t surprised by the ratatat-tat at the door. 

Lord Jasper jumped forward with a tense look at his sister. “I’ll get it.” His pinched expression showed more concern than it had when we’d broken down his door, and I subtly shifted my jacket to make it easier to draw my weapon. 

The smell of teriyaki chicken and sauteed vegetables wafted into the room as Lord Jasper opened the door and accepted two large bags of takeout from a gangly delivery boy. 

Dai stepped up to my side as I straightened my jacket. The mirth dancing in her eyes told me she hadn't missed the movement. “Would you like to eat with us?” 

                                          ____

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling for all her amazing insights and edits! Love you seester! 

Taglist: 

UM do I need a separate taglist for fantasci? Maybeeee?!? Haha comment/reblog with your requests to be added to my fantasci taglist. 

[rose-from-ashes]

YOU. Talk about Emet-Selch.

(Please? 💕 what is a Woe of his? what does he view living as a whole, does immortality skew his perspective of life? etc etc.)

OHHH MY FAVORITE HOBBY [cracks knuckles]

His woes are many, but one of them is how easily and painfully people die. He's inhabited many, many mortal bodies, and experienced thousands upon thousands of deaths. One he experiences more often than others due to his tendency to possess the rich is old age- over so many years, feeling his body fall apart, pain and weakness and wear and tear slowly taking hold. But his favorite for how quick (and admittedly, dramatic) it is by gunshot wound to the head or heart- he hears the crack, feels the hit, and he knows that it's time to leave the body, he doesn't usually have to hang around and bleed out.

His own deaths are commonplace to him now, though- he struggles with the deaths of others far more, because they will never come back the same as he does. They reincarnate, sure, he may even meet their soul again, but that is it's own kind of painful. This drives him to frustration and hurt when the topic comes up- Emet-selch is a creature of grief, always, no matter how cavalier his attitude, and yet somehow, people tend to accuse him of not caring at all, which stings almost as much as the loss itself sometimes.

Living is a complicated subject with him, largely because, as he once put it in a famous line that I actually have a sticker of,

To Emet-selch, to live is to do so freely. The less freedom one has, the less ability to look at each path, understand, and choose without fear, the less alive they are- they are simply robots that can hurt. And mortals are rarely free. They toil away their lives in struggle to survive, picking paths not because they want to but because they may die if they do not- entire lives pass by in struggle for richer men, or lying in bed with illness, or dying of starvation, poverty, abuse, et cetera. To him, a mortal life is painful and not much else, and it hurts him to see, so he turns off his empathy and pushes them towards calamity in hopes that some day, mortals will no longer be mortals, but the long lived, powerful Ancients they once were.

However, Emet is also painfully aware that when this goal is achieved, he will no longer be able to serve any purpose. In the course of trying to right an incredibly deep, painful wrong, he's committed his own absolutely horrific actions, slavery, genocide, and ultimately omnicide, to bring back a people who's times have long passed. He knows that he is not a good man, and the knowledge stings when pointed out, resulting in ugly, angry reactions. The founder of Garlemald and Allag does not belong in a kind world, and the gentler man he used to be is gone. In bringing back life as he believes it to be, he plans to condemn his own- he will, essentially, die on the spot, of his own choice, and return to the aether to be with those he has lost. Immortality is not a burden he plans to bear any longer than necessary. In fact, when he does eventually truly die (and it does not happen in the way he'd hoped), he is eventually given the option to return to life- and he refuses it, knowing that it isn't his place. He is content to be mortal again, along with his long lost friends.

[syrupwit]

Meme of facts about you. @ziskandra tagged me -- thank you, I love doing these things :-)

Tagging, with no expectation or pressure: @sunrisetune, @malatruse, @sulky-valkyrie, @pierogipie, @realace, @only-slightly-terrified, @emcumbent, @nyaautumn and anyone else who would like to do it.

-

Nickname: Syrup (pronounced SEE-rup, not SUH-rup as some people may choose to say it)

Sign: Taurus sun, Cancer moon, Sagittarius rising -- I do not know the rest of it. My friend Michael, who's really into astrology, analyzed my… chart? a few years ago and had some interesting things to say, but I don't remember them. I think something odd was in Saturn, and he was like, oh man, huh. How exciting!

Height: 5'2" ish

Last thing I googled: lie vs lay

Song stuck in my head: "Keys of Life" by Klaus Nomi… I love him… FROM ANCIENT WORLDS I COME / TO SEE WHAT MAN HAS DONE

Amount of Sleep: Seven to nine hours, or else.

Dream Job: public librarian

Wearing: dress, hooded zip-up sweatshirt, socks.

Movies/Books that Summarize You: either Spirited Away or the anime adaptation of Night on the Galactic Railroad where they're all cats (which i guess is up in full on youtube rn!)

Favorite Song: "Don't Try So Hard" by Queen

Instrument: I can kind of play the piano maybe a bit. I'm really bad at music that involves instruments, like really really bad at it, zero aptitude. I can sing a bit though.

Aesthetic: In terms of what I look like irl, either "half-assed mall goth" or "guy catering a wedding." In terms of the image I would like to cultivate, either "untrustworthy fairy" or "human crazy quilt who also could, at any moment, be safely and reasonably drafted into assisting with catering a wedding." (Which would likely even out to "kind of weird looking, with sturdy footwear," which is fine with me.)

Favorite Author: JL Borges, Joanna Russ, Octavio Paz; several other writers whose work I have a more complicated relationship with, which would take more effort to explain than I feel like expending at the moment, but they are still favorites.

Random Fun Fact: The Yiddish word for "snail" is shnek (שנעק).

[s2pdoktopus]

The AU will be set in MDZS Universe

Kou Empire (Huang Sect here) is one of the great Sects but they mostly interact with people outside the ancient China setting (so the Magi side of things)

The metal vessels are their spiritual tools, this time comparable to Zidian so Kou is a powerful military focused sect especially with how many of the princes and princesses have these spiritual tools (lol Kouen alone has three)

During the Gusu lectures, Kougyoku, Kouha and Hakuryuu are sent to represent Kou. Hakuryuu is a good boy, Kouha sneaks into the girls' side (no one noticed because he looks like a girl and wears girl's clothes when he does this) to tell Kougyoku the interesting things that happens on the boy's side of things (Jiang sect head disciple punched the Jin heir and got sent away lolol) Kougyoku, also does her best to not embarrass her home and cause trouble for her older brother so they finish the lectures okay.

During the Wen discussion conference, Hakuryuu and Kouha participated in the competition. Both don't specialize in archery so they didn't get many points. It's not a big deal to Kou because they are more interested in the happenings outside ancient China.

During the Wen indoctrination Kougyoku is in Balbad, Kouha is sent to the indoctrination (More like he volunteered to go) got his Leraje taken from him and with the help of the Jiang Sect, managed to get back home.

Cloud recesses burning happens. Lotus Pier massacre happens.

(During the Wen indoctrination up until the Lotus Pier massacre, Kougyoku is in Sindria, befriends Alibaba, crushes on Sinbad, gets Zephar planted in her brain. Magi stuff)

Jiang Cheng comes to Kou to return Kouha's sword and ask for their assistance in the Sunshot campaign. This is where Kougyoku and Jiang Cheng meet properly. Kougyoku finds him in the garden waiting for Kouen to meet up with him and she knows about who he is and what happened to him, he seemed sad and lonely. Kougyoku felt compelled to help him somehow (having been infected by Alibaba's kindness already) so she toughed it up and tried to cheer him up a bit.

Kougyoku's arranged marriage got cancelled, Jiang sect is ruined and it's just the perfect opportunity to put them under the Kou's mercy so Kouen offered to Jiang Cheng their help if he agrees to take Kougyoku as his bride. Jiang Cheng and his complicated relationship with his parents' marriage made him decline. Kougyoku comes to the Jiang Sect's aid anyway. Kou is still in conflict with the Reim and Sindria, it's better to not let the Wen get so strong that Kou would have to fight them too. Vinea specialized in water and there's plenty of that in the Yunmeng territory so sending Kougyoku makes a lot of sense. Plus, Kougyoku already considers Jiang Cheng her friend (lol anime logic. Kougyoku is awkward and desperate for friends) so she is more than willing to go. (They become proper friends here)

Kougyoku leaves the Sunshot campaign once the Jiang Sect is taken back.

Sunshot campaign is won. The Wen remnants problem happens, Kou civil war happens. By the time Wei Wuxian died, Hakuryuu became Kou's emperor. Then he steps down and now both Kougyoku and Jiang Cheng share the burden of carrying a destroyed Sect :D

Kougyoku tried everything to save the Kou empire, which in this au, includes being more involved with the ancient China side of things. They don't bond over this (although I want them to, lol) because they are friends. Kougyoku likes to keep up appearances around her esteemed friends and Jiang Cheng is her only living friend that she actually gets to meet at the moment. Jiang Cheng is busy with Jin Ling, there's nothing he can ask Kougyoku because they have the same problem. They do hang out when the opportunity arises, the opportunity being discussion conferences and sometimes to negotiate trade treaties and other legal things.

Alibaba comes back and helps Kougyoku just as her territory is about to get swallowed up by the Seven Alliances. Magi stuff happens (but without the Sinbad becomes god situation. What's important is Kougyoku gets Vinea again and it's a spiritual tool here so yes, it's the same old powerful weapon that controls water. I want Kougyoku to keep her magic powers XD)

Slowly, the Jiang Sect and the Kou go back to being the strong territories that they are used to be known as, although Kou turned from being known for military might to agriculture and little inventions (like the Magi version of the fridge lol)

Years go by, Jiang Cheng and Kougyoku with their thriving sects now have enough time to meet, drink tea and chat. Go on dates friendly visits, friend stuff. Jin Ling knows Kougyoku as that one auntie that can actually make his uncle smile. They like going on night hunts together because Kougyoku does love to battle (she's considered to be the strongest female cultivator here) and electric whip and water sword are a very good combo. They spar a lot too. Again. Friend stuff!

Some time later this comic thingy happens. Kougyoku reveals that, surprise! Her eldest brother, Kouen is alive! That's a secret though because they told everyone he's dead and it'll be a problem if it's found that he isn't dead. Kougyoku wants him to meet her brothers, yes, even Hakuryuu whom Jiang Cheng hates because Hakuryuu did all that then left a ruined sect to Kougyoku and he's also petty enough to hate for someone important to him. But Kougyoku wants them to formally meet and all, this is still a wedding which she always dreamed of doing even if it's just for convenience. Kouen brought up Jiang Cheng's problems with arranged marriage and the rejected offer once upon a time but Jiang Cheng says that this is something him and Kougyoku agreed with and they have been friends for this long already. He thinks they will be fine. Kouha approves of him (way better than Sinbad he said, which earned him an embarrassed smack from Kougyoku) and since Kouha, the one protective of Kougyoku approves, Kouen and Koumei found no other issues (being tied to a great sect is not bad too)

(They shop clothes together a lot and write to each other about fashion :D fashionable grape and Kougyoku whose hobby is fashion and beauty care. They exchange skin care and hair routines too! Shopping clothes with your homie is a very friend thing to do!)

Wei Wuxian comes back to life, MDZS stuff happens. Kougyoku comes to Jiang Cheng's side as soon as she gets the news. Jiang Cheng cries about it (of course) the fact that he was used as an instrument to his brother's demise, the golden core situation, everything. Kougyoku can relate, she was also used by Sinbad which led to her brothers losing the civil war and her brothers exiled from their homeland. They finally bond over their similarities while wasted. Kougyoku tells Jiang Cheng how amazing it is that he managed to get the Jiang clan back to being as, if not, more powerful than it once was, while she needed her just revived friend to get hers back. Jiang Cheng tells her that he'd never wish for her to go through that alone and that it's good she has friends to help her. They apologize for not reaching out when they needed each other the most and laughed at how silly it is to say sorry about it now, when it's over. (Jiang Cheng also felt like he should apologize to her for insulting Jin Guangyao's parentage, knowing her own status as a child of a prostitute and feeling belatedly that it's almost as if he insulted her too, Kougyoku doesn't really get it (she wasn't in the temple and they are both very drunk) but she says it's ok anyway. Kougyoku, while she doesn't like Wei Wuxian at all (this is the girl who fought a god like being, and the one who first damaged the thing just because it hurt her brother and friend, I believe she'd be petty enough to dislike Wei Wuxian although she'll keep her opinions to herself) still tells Jiang Cheng about how she forgave Alibaba for not telling her about the brainwashing despite knowing about it. That Alibaba didn't say anything to protect her and maybe it's the same for Wei Wuxian.

They get married, it's a pretty big celebration. They managed to sneak Kougyoku's brothers in but since they are supposedly in exile, Jiang Cheng had to do his bows to Hakuryuu and Hakuei. He hated it. Kougyoku did hers to Jin Ling as Jiang Cheng's only remaining living relative. They would've invited Wei Wuxian but they didn't know where to send the invite. (Now both brothers can lament over not being invited to weddings)

Some time later after they get married this happens

Jiang Cheng: (deep in thought)

Jin Ling: What's wrong JuiJui?

Jiang Cheng: Your Aunt... I think she found her true love.

Jin Ling: Aunty HongYuis cheating on you?! I knew it-

Jiang Cheng: I said she might've found her love. Listen to what people around you say A-Ling. I wouldn't want you to be the same as those gossipers outside.

Jin Ling: B-But, you're married?

Jiang Cheng: It was a marriage of convenience. (Sighs in frustration) I should've known that this would happen. ('Is this what mother felt like. How do I break off our marriage. I don't want to chain her in a loveless affair)

Meanwhile, Lian HongYu

Alibaba: Hi, HongYu, how's your marriage doing?

Lian HongYu: Bad, Alibaba, I think I may have fallen in love!

Alibaba: Didn't you just marry a while ago?

Lian HongYu: Yes.

Alibaba: ... Who did you fall in love with this time?

Lian HongYu: My husband!

Alibaba: I don't understand?

Lian HongYu: It's supposed to be a marriage of convenience!

Alibaba: Well, isn't that convenient?

Liang HongYu: No!!

Jiang Cheng and Lian HongYu

Lian HongYu: A-Cheng, I have a confession to make.

Jiang Cheng: this is it, she's going to tell me she found her true love and--

Lian HongYu: I have fallen in love with you.

Jiang Cheng: -she wants to break off the What?

Lian HongYu: I'm sorry, our marriage is supposed to be of convenience but I'd gone ahead and fallen for you, I promise this wouldn't change anything or if you're uncomfortable we can break off our marriage-

Jiang Cheng: I think I love you too.

Lian HongYu: ... You do?

Jiang Cheng: I do think I do.

Lian HongYu: (laughs) well, that is convenient!! I'm glad.

Jiang Cheng: 'I'm glad too.'

And they live happily ever after :DD

Here's some more of them!!

Another AU involves MDZS being set years and years and years after Magi ended so it's in the new world. The last king vessels assimilated with their Djinn and became spirits. Kou empire turned into the Jianghu and was fragmented into sects. Kouen's territory is occupied by the Wen, Hakuei's territory is occupied by the Lan, Kouha's is occupied by the Jin, Hakuryuu's occupied by the Nie and Kougyoku of course is with the Jiang. So in the years of Wei Wuxian's death, and Jiang Cheng being left behind and mourning, Kougyoku, the now spirit of sorrow and isolation awakens. She shows up to Jiang Cheng in her djinn equip form (insert Jiang Cheng getting flustered because an almost naked lady appears from the river, here) Kougyoku gets some proper clothes in Jiang Cheng's insistence and... They hang out. Kougyoku reveals that she was once the empress of a united Jianghu, she muses on how things have changed and she tells him about the former lords of the land the other sects rule over. She helps him rebuild, having done this before and saying that there's no shame in it! She was helped by a dear friend too, once upon a time.

Just a water spirit who doesn't act like one and a lonely young leader hanging out.

Cringetober Day 9: Crossover ship

I may have gone overboard.

This is for the very small overlap of Jiang Cheng enjoyers and Kougyoku lovers: me.

[faintvibes]

Throws this out here

The ancients (and further in the past) have been on my mind recently, so have this lil' drawing of baby Germania, and [the woman I hc would later become] Skandia.

If you're curious, more details are under the cut:

So this takes place during the Late Nordic Bronze Age, which is around the time I imagine Germania would have come about. Skandia is much older, as I imagine she would have originally personified the Boat/Battle Axe Culture, which came to be ~2800 BCE. So, by the time Germania comes into existence, she's already like 2,000 years old.

Regarding clothing: there is, as can be expected, little which remains from this period of history, and so I've made do with what I could find, though at this point that has mostly been what is available on the wikimedia gallery. I need to do more of a deep dive when I have the time. However, the references I have used will be linked at the bottom. Hair is something I was even less clear on, so at the moment I'm essentially freestyling it. Additionally, the patterns depicted are my standard 'default pattern', as I'm yet to find any knowledge of the patterns used at this time. It's something else I'd like to investigate, though I imagine I would need to guesstimate what these would have looked like.

(Fun fact about the cloak-type garment Skandia is wearing: according to a paper I read, it was likely designed so that it could be flipped up over the head to be a giant floppy hood. I thought that was adorable.)

While her blindfold is the more immediately obvious hint, you might also notice her incredibly pale colouring. I've always viewed Prussia as albino (as well as Russia, Iceland, and maybe Belarus) and I imagine that gene wouldn't just start appearing with canon characters. As a consequence of her albinism, Skandia has very poor vision- to the point where wearing a blindfold just makes things less complicated. It can also lead people to underestimate her, which she swiftly takes advantage of.

I don't have as much to say about Germania here (largely on account of him being very young), beyond the fact that I noticed just before writing this that I drew his outfit incorrectly. He should have another layer on (just pretend that it's there). Beyond that, I imagine that he looked up to his Big Sis from a young age, with her being a strong maternal figure to him. She would have provided a unique perspective for him, growing up, and I like to imagine she was the one who taught him how to fight, or at least played a key role. They hold each other very dearly.

References:

*Note that the following reference image depicts a grave, of which the skull of the individual is visible:

[lavendermin]

would you mind | childe

pairing | childe/reader

word count | 1.9k

genre | developing relationship, light smut, complicated feelings

If ever there was a force greater than the ancient winds of old Mondstadt, it was that harbinger from Snezhnaya. All it took was one afternoon during your shift for him to gain an interest in you—a fascination maybe.

The Fatui weren’t known for a good reputation in Liyue, and it only made you a bit uneasy knowing his high ranking—a cautious approach to a stranger in higher power. You couldn’t deny him and you didn’t dare show disrespect for subtle fear of consequence.

Rumors of people getting blackmailed—or worse— from getting tangled with the Fatui spread like wildfire in the harbor. Though they were baseless accusations, they didn’t stop from simmering in the back of your mind. The ‘what if’ was a damning point your mind made. Rumors didn’t come from nowhere around these parts.

Though Childe carried a sense of danger with him, there was something about him that kept your nerves manageable. The persona he carried was very impressionable, maybe even a little irritating at times. He was a persistent one.

“Mind if I join you for lunch?”

“Sir… I work here.” He knew this, too, yet he always arrived at the tea house with the same line. Still, you were quick to tend to him.

Childe hummed, eyes grinning with him as he happily plopped down at the table you swiftly offered him. “I’ll take that as an opportunity. The usual, please.”

Just treat him like a normal patron, was a personal mantra to get you through a shift at the tea house.

You were just lucky he was well-mannered. It made dealing with him easier. There was something about him that irked you, but at the end of the day he was polite and never forced a conversation if you were busy serving others.

“You don’t seem to talk much these days,” Childe notes as he swirls the remnants of his tea in its cup. It’s nearing closing time and you keep glancing over at the clock as he makes no move to leave. He sighs dramatically, “I miss our conversations.”

It’s playful, knowing full-well you hardly ever speak to avoid trouble from your boss. Maybe you would blame it on the exhaustion of a long shift, maybe put blame on lack of sleep. The comment, however, still makes you break seriousness and you erupt in an abrupt fit of laughter you quickly fight to quiet down. Luckily you’re closing by yourself tonight.

The sound is melodic, surprising Childe as a grin grows on his face. Though your back is turned as your shoulders shake from suppressed laughter, he can see the embarrassed red at the tips of your ears.

Oh, so you did find his company entertaining.

Your back straightens, and when you turn around you’re back to keeping him at a distance with an air of seriousness. Nothing more than work and patrons.

Childe leaves after wishing you a safe trip home and thanks for the wonderful service, as usual. The briskness of the cool night air keeps his mind intrigued once more with the mystery that surrounds you. Duty in Liyue was getting quite boring, and he decided to indulge in figuring you out.

“Would you mind if I joined you for a stroll?”

The familiar ginger hair strode up matching your pace. In the bustling crowd of the harbor, his presence sticks out like the cries of seagulls overhead. Maybe it’s your paranoia, but you swear people make an effort to move away from your little bubble he now infiltrated.

Still, he’s a harbinger.

So you nod quietly.

“I’m just running errands. It’s quite boring.” The way his eyes linger on yours for a second longer has you averting your gaze. The smile he wears… since when did it make your chest squeeze?

“I’m sure not as boring as some of the tasks I’m given,” he chuckles.

“Paperwork, I’m sure,” you guess idly. The vague smile he throws you has something about it that sends chills running down your spine.

“Something like that.”

The chuckle you give him is a little nervous. You aren’t sure what tasks he gets but you aren’t sure you’re willing to find out.

“Feel free to join me if you’d like, then.”

And for the rest of the day he patiently strolls around with you around the harbor through idle chatter. From dock to dock he follows, offering to pay the entire sum of anything on your errands list. The unlimited financial power he holds both terrifies and amazes you.

From then on, his company became frequent on your errand runs. Many shop keepers at first got anxious with a Fatui agent escorting you around, but his bright charisma won them over eventually. Business was business in the end, and his tendency to let the shopkeeper ‘keep the change’ won the favor of many.

You forgot when exactly you stopped trying to shake him off altogether. Perhaps you got too complacent since there was little you could do. Some days you even enjoyed his company. Childe was a good listener on days when you were a little more talkative, and he would always answer with utmost sincerity.

Yes, you looked forward to his little greeting and chance encounters on the harbor. Part of you hated the fact that you got so comfortable with him but the louder part of you was conflicted with bubbling feelings for the harbinger. For months on end you kept those feelings suppressed in the deepest parts of your heart.

And then the storm season hit.

“Mind some company?”

The water dripped down your face, soaked clothes clinging to your form as you stood under a tree near the outskirts of the harbor. Your eyes were wide, doe-like as you peered up at the familiar voice.

“Oh, sure.” Your eyes drift back to stare absentmindedly at the puddles rippling in the rain. “I was just waiting for the rain to let up a bit so I can make it back home.”

Childe hums, his usual charismatic smile bright on his face. It’s a little dangerous, and makes your heart race. Addicting.

“You know, at this rate you’ll get sick by the time you get home. I say we just make a run for it,” he offers with a devilish grin.

The frown you give him only further amuses him. “Run? Through the pouring rain?”

“Got any better ideas?”

You sigh, the sound of pattering rain filling the silence as you weigh your options.

“Fine. Okay.”

He grins, and you surrender to letting the harbinger have his way in the rain. Through the streets you both run, footsteps cutting through puddles and crowds of people with umbrellas. It’s thrilling and you can’t help but laugh at how fun running through the rain is. You both look like lovers that got caught in an unfortunate circumstance, and your chest wells up with feelings as you watch Childe pull you through crowds and street vendors.

The storm is raging outside, rain pattering on windows that rattle softly from the wind. It’s soaked you both to the bone by the time you arrive at your little flat. The room is quiet save for the rain that relentlessly knocks on the windows.

The quiet sound of panting fills the room as you both catch your breath from running through the rain, towels draped over your heads as you try to warm up.

“It’s pretty rough out there,” Childe notes, looking out the window. “Any longer out there and the wind might have picked you up before I did.”

It’s wordless—the way you join him by the window to look out at a grey city. You give a silent hum as you finish towel-drying your hair. The expression you wear is serious, aloof as you’re unreadable in your thoughts.

Childe is the first to speak, his voice soft and sincere—perhaps a little disappointed at your return to keeping him at arm’s length. “I’ll get going then. Glad you could make it home sa—“

It comes as a surprise—the sudden kiss you give him. Your small hands pull him down by his shirt collar to meet your lips in a rushed kiss. He’s quick to return the gesture, his lips curved in a smirk against yours.

You pull away breathless, face a little flushed. The frown you wear is adorable, a pout almost. “I hate that I like you.”

Childe is at your lips again, a breathy chuckle rumbling through his chest as he cages you against the wall. “And here I was thinking I’d never woo you, what with you not liking the Fatui and all.”

You cut him off with another kiss to hide the heat rising to your face. “Stop talking.”

He laughs wholeheartedly, his body against yours as you melt against his lips. It’s needy and rough. The sounds of your soft pants and little gasps are washed away by the rumbling thunder outside.

And through the storm, you spend the night. Childe feels like he’s won—gained one step closer to knowing more about you. He wanted to know all your faces, uncover all the mysteries and unknowns you held. And through the night, he learned of your sensitivities, the little noises you made, and the gestures that made your heart leap.

He had you around his finger. But perhaps the same could be said about him.

Early morning comes, the light barely coming through the window to illuminate the dark room. From under a mess of sheets you stir, body sore. Your fingers graze over the blooming markings on your chest and neck.

Beside you Childe sleeps soundly, his broad back dusted in light freckles and scratch marks. The way he hugs the pillow makes his sleeping face look almost kid-like in innocence. You’d never think he was a war machine for an archon.

You push the sinking feeling away, and brush some hair out of his eyes. The featherlight kiss you place atop his head stirs him from his sleep.

“Mornin’. Here I thought you would be gone by now,” he mumbles groggily. With his tousled hair and sleepy smile, you find it incredibly difficult to feel annoyed.

“I live here.”

He chuckles at this, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you against him. You scramble to pull the blanket over your bare body and though he finds it amusing, he doesn’t comment on your shyness. “Would you mind if I stayed the morning, then? The rain isn’t letting up anytime soon.”

“That sounds like an awfully obvious lie,” you retort.

It’s hard to ignore the hardness that presses against your abdomen. The lack of shame on his content face irks you. Still, you don’t deny the way your body heats up once more.

“Your face is just so cute when you’re begging,” Childe teases, pressing kisses up your neck.

“Childe, sto—haah.”

In a swift motion, he has you straddling him. You can feel his hardness press against your ass, sending a shudder of anticipation through your body. The ache in your thighs tries to protest against the lust-driven haze clouding your judgement.

Childe’s hands are already massaging the soft flesh at your hips, hands waiting for permission. “What do you say, sweetheart? Another round if you can keep up?”

“Y–You have duties to tend to, don’t you?” you bring up meekly, eyes shut tight as he bites a sweet spot on your neck that hitches your breath. Slowly, your mind is losing itself, drunk on his attention again.

With a smirk against your skin, he answers simply, “They won’t mind my whereabouts in this weather.”

[nevershootamockingbird]

[ image one: an excerpt that reads “The ancient greeks really had graves for dogs. And they carved stuff on the stone like “carrying you here, I now feel as much grief as I felt joy when I carried you home” and “you never barked without reason, but now you are silent.” The human urge to tell a story spans centuries and millennia, and the loss of a really good dog makes you want to tell people - even people centuries in the future, who will never know your name - that there once was a dog who was a very good girl, but now she no longer is and you aren’t sure what to do will all this sorrow.”

image two: a still from the show Fleabag. It shows Fleabg, looking as though she is about to cry, saying “I don’t know what to do with it. With all the love I have for her. I don’t know where to put it now.”

image three: a quote that reads “Grief, I’ve learned is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

image four and five: a painting, and a close up of that same painting. The painting depicts a person with long black hair, wearing a long blue coat, dark blue pants or tights, and a green backpack. They are holding a hand out towards the ghostly image of a person that is transparent, so her hand and arm are visible. The close up is of the person’s hand and arm, visible through the ghost.

image six: a quote that reads “A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he’s still left with his hands.”

image seven: lyrics that read “I don’t know what to do without you / I know know where to put my hands”

images eight and nine: mixed media scans of a black and white photograph of the corner of someone’s kitchen. Magazine words have been cut out and pasted over the side of the fridge, and on the floor in front of the fridge. The words all together read “I want to know what to do with the dead things we carry.”

image ten: an excerpt that reads “And it was comforting to think that she and Will had another thing in common. She wondered whether there would ever come an hour in her life when she didn’t think of him--didn’t speak to him in her head, didn’t relive every moment they’d been together, didn’t long for his voice and his hands and his love. She had never dreamed of what it would feel like to love someone so much; of all the things that had astonished her in her adventures, that was what astonished her the most. She thought the tenderness it left in her heart was like a bruise that would never go away, but she would cherish it forever.”

image eleven: a quote that reads “Grief is love’s souvenir. It’s our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.”

image twelve: a digital drawing of a large person from the waist up. There is an orange sun with orange and teal rays above them. The person’s head is bowed forward, their eyes shut. The person is bald and not wearing clothes, with dark brown and red skin, outlined in yellow. The person has their arms hugging their body, one hand holding open a green curtain on the window in their chest. In the window is a small orange person, looking up at them. 

image thirteen: a quote that reads “If we couldn’t carry our dead inside us we would be empty. (emptier, I mean.)”

image fourteen: an excerpt that reads “But when someone’s gone and you’re the primary keeper of his memory -- letting go would be a kind of murder, wouldn’t it? I had so much love for him, even if it was a complicated love, and where is all that love supposed to go? He was gone, so it couldn’t change, it couldn’t turn to indifference. I was stuck with all that love.”

image fifteen: black text that reads “You remember too much, / my mother said to me recently. / Why hold onto all that? And I said, / where can I put it down?”

image sixteen: a crayon or colored pencil drawing. There are two figures, a woman colored all in black, and a ghost outlined in black. They are holding hands. 

image seventeen: an excerpt that reads “I’m haunted by feelings of things / I can’t remember / but what would I be without the ghosts? / The opposite of a haunting is / something very lonely.”

image eighteen: two quotes that read -”I’ll mourn the word companion. I won’t ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay. Knowing I’ll spend the next twenty years trying to scrub you out of my nails.” -”What did my fingers do before they held him? / What did my heart do, with its love?”

image nineteen: a black and white photo. One arm is extended, reaching for the shadow of another arm. 

image twenty: a quote that reads “But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

image twenty one: a screenshot of a tumblr post by @/hauntdom that reads “when it comes down to it everything is about ghosts except ghosts, which are about love”

image twenty two and twenty three: stills from an interview with Andrew Garfield. He is wearing a velvet burnt orange suit over a black shirt. He is saying “I hope this grief stays with me. Because it’s all the unexpressed love that I didn’t get to tell her [his mother]”

image twenty four: black text that reads “Either love is...” “-A shrine?” “-or else a scar.”

image twenty five: an excerpt that reads “Grief is forever. It doesn’t go away; it becomes a part of you, step for step, breath for breath. I will never stop grieving Bailey because I will never stop loving her. That’s just how it is.”

image twenty six: a quote that reads “My heart is a haunted house”

image twenty seven: an excerpt that reads “My mom honks her car horn every time she drives past the cemetery her friend is buried in. This is what I think love is: everlasting. Deathless.”

image twenty eight: a quote that reads “Small things such as this have saved me: how much I love my mother-- even after all these years. How powerfully I carry her within me. My grief is tremendous but my love is bigger. So is yours.”

image twenty nine: an excerpt that reads “We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in their turn drop, and so on into the unimaginable generations. I remember Anna, our daughter Claire will remember Anna and remember me, then Claire will be gone an there will be those who remember her but not us, and that will be our final dissolution. True, there will be something of us that remain, a fading photograph, a lock of hair, a few fingerprints, a sprinkling of atoms in the air of the room where we breathed our last, yet none of this will be us, what we are and were, but only the dust of the dead.”

image thirty: a quote that reads “I will love you forever, whatever happens. Till I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I’ll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again...”  / end id ]

@keuhkopussirotta / fleabag / jamie anderson / holly warburton / richard siken / mitski / aracelis girmay by @heavensghost / philip pullman