#the second set are sea and precious stone names

[create-a-dcla-show]

[draconic-desire]

🔶 Rex Dracorum 🔶

Yandere Zhongli x Reader

At this year’s Lantern Rite, you happen to cross paths with a dragon, much to the chagrin of the one who holds you in the palm of his hand. The result has you trapped between them.

Warnings: Very brief mention of nsfw at the end, implied kidnapping, forced relationship, yandere behavior. Basically my version of what would have happened if Zhongli and Neuvillette actually met at the Rite…

Despite the contract irrevocably binding you to the Lord of Geo, its progenitor allows you a surprising number of freedoms.

Sometimes, you can pretend like he didn’t steal your life away with a simple signature. That he didn’t back you into a corner, making you decide between two evils: to be his wife and mate, or watch as everything and everyone you ever cherished suffer the wrath of the rock.

Why me?, you would plead aloud, desperate for any loophole, any escape from your contract. Why a mortal geologist with only a few mora to her name?

You’re one of the few who appreciates the rock over the gem, my precious lapis, he’d reply cryptically. Always riddles and non-answers, layered statements garnished with polished words.

If you could reverse time, you would have refused his invitation for tea that first time. Little did you know that each of those subsequent meetings, each time you spent listening to his fantastical tales shared between steaming cups, you were digging your grave a foot deeper, his hold on you constricting an inch further.

Perhaps if you had rejected him outright, he would have viewed you not as a unique mineral, but as another insignificant pebble in a sea of endless, colorless sediment. As no more than the dirt beneath his boot.

Instead, you must seek refuge from him and his stifling, suffocating presence in the times between the cracks, like now, as you take in the transformed Liyue Harbor, adorned with lights and colors brighter than any precious stone.

Hailing from Liyue, the Lantern Rite has always been a time of celebration and reflection for you and your family. Now it represents one of the only times the invisible shackles are lifted from your frame.

Although Zhongli does initially insist on walking you through the harbor, arms interlocked as he parades you around while monologuing about Liyue’s rich history, he permits you to venture off on your own and explore while he entertains his associates or work clients during the day. Although you know there are constantly eyes on you, usually a certain grumbling yaksha, this precious time almost feels like normal.

Today, you’ve decided on a stroll through Qiaoyang Village. The quiet, leisurely existence that its inhabitants have adopted fills you with a rare tranquility. Walking at a slow pace among the many street vendors, the scent of tea leaves, fresh mint and spices, permeates your nose, beckoning you forward. Your tea stocks at home are getting a bit low, you mentally remark, and having some of your own gives you an excuse to occasionally opt out of the times Zhongli wants to drag you out again.

Your mind set, you turn to find yourself a fraction of a second from running straight into a wall of boxes.

No—looking down, you spot a pair of black and gold boots, leading up to black trousers and elegant blue robes. A pair of matching gloves holds the boxes in place. There’s actually a person carrying all of those parcels.

Due to the boxes obscuring their view, they notice you too late—with startlingly quick reflexes, they manage to avoid running into you, but given their sudden halt mid-step, the boxes in their arms go toppling to the ground.

You gasp at your stupidity and immediately drop to your knees to maintain the stranger’s fallen goods. Embarrassed at your carelessness, you stumble over your words. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t see you—”

A gloved hand rests on your own scrambling fingers, calming your frantic attempt to organize the items. “No apologies necessary. I am the one at fault for not being more alert.”

Turning to face the stranger, who is now crouching beside you, the air in your lungs extinguishes as your eyes lock.

Undoubtedly, this man is one of the most handsome individuals you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Long, silver hair cascades around his sharp, defined features: almond eyes with striking lilac irises, high cheekbones and full lips, a tall, muscular frame clearly sculpted with subtle muscle. His attire—sapphire robes, adorned with lighter accents and intricate whirls of ocean blues—is clearly of expensive taste and sophistication. The jabot and dewdrop pendant around his neck suggest he’s Fontainian, perhaps associated with the court there.

You must look like a gaping fish out of water, for the man helps you to your feet with a kind smile. “I must have given you quite the startle. Are you feeling alright?”

His deep baritone rings through you, similar yet so unlike the proud voice of the Geo Archon you’ve grown accustomed to. Blinking twice, you regain your bearings and pray to the Seven—excluding one in particular, who would be very unhappy with you—that the man didn’t notice you gawking at him. “Ah, yes, I’m fine. Again, I’m very sorry for being so distracted. If any of your items are damaged, I’m more than happy to pay for replacements.”

“That is quite generous of you, but I can assure you that won’t be necessary. You see, these boxes merely contain tea, nothing more.” To prove his claim, he bends down to retrieve a box that opened when it landed, revealing simple, sealed bags of leaves.

Your shoulders sag in relief. It truly seems like no damage was done. “Well, at least let me help you wrap them up together. I know a trick that will make carrying them all much easier.”

The white-haired male nods, followed by a subtle smile. “That’s very kind of you. I accept your proposal.”

After a quick stop at another stall to buy twine, you start to work on binding the boxes together. You count more than ten in total—who needs that much tea, anyway? The amount of it is almost comical, but you can’t bring yourself to actually poke fun of the man. Not when he’s looking at you with such an endearing smile. Like he’s seeing you, not just the wife of the Lord of Geo.

Your face heats. “So,” you start, trying to focus on your knots and ties and not the stranger’s eyes boring into you, “can I ask why you’re carrying so much tea?”

“Well, I originally was transporting some goods back to Fontaine for my friends and colleagues, but I decided to partake myself. It was buy ten boxes get half off,” he replies, as calmly as if he were stating an obvious fact.

You can’t help it. A giggle escapes your lips as you quirk your head to the side. The innocence with which this man admitted to being scammed endears you greatly, and you can’t help but play along with him. “You know, that’s a pretty good deal.”

He smiles, then, a subtle thing paired with a tinge of pink along his cheeks. “I thought so, too.”

Your smile grows in tandem. Speaking to others, especially other men, without your husband hovering above the conversation is quite rare for you these days—though you have no doubt you’ll be questioned about it later once Xiao reports the encounter to him, if he hasn’t already—

A hand rests on your shoulder, the landing a bit too heavy and the grip a bit too tight. “Ah, my beautiful wife. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The sound of Zhongli’s voice sends a jump through your bones. Archons, you knew you were being followed, but you’ve never been located and corralled this quickly. A flame of indignation, which has long since dimmed from an inferno to a mere flicker, sparks in your chest. You’re rightly upset that your time has been cut short, and even before you learned this interesting and undeniably attractive foreigner’s name.

You look up at Zhongli and open your mouth to explain the situation, that you were merely helping the other man secure his absurd amount of tea boxes, but the words die in your throat.

The Lord of Geo’s amber gaze is sharp and deadly as stone, directed at the other man. His jaw tightens and he grinds out, “Neuvillette.”

The silver-haired man’s eyes narrow as his gaze roams from the hand on your shoulder to meet Zhongli’s glower. “Rex.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance back and forth between the two men who look two moments away from ripping each other to ribbons. It’s obvious they know each other, and the name Neuvillette rings a bell of recognition in your mind. But what really concerns you is the term by which Neuvillette called Zhongli. To your knowledge, no one refers to your captor as Rex Lapis except Xiao, who knows of his draconic—

Oh. Oh.

The realization slams into you with a wave of clarity as your head slowly turns toward the other man. The silver, slitted pupils, the shimmering blue horns and pointed ears, the aura of power and hydro around him…

Horrified, your mouth falls open as you truly take in this man, Neuvillette.

No, not a man. The restored leader of Fontaine, the Hydro Sovereign.

You’ve been casually conversing with not only a dragon, but also the Chief Justice of the Region of Justice. One of the original powerhouses of Teyvat, from which the Seven gained their gnoses. And, given the death of the Hydro Archon, there is currently only one in existence restored to their full power.

“Shit,” you breathe, a bit too loudly. Purple and gold irises snap to you in sync, one filled with thinly veiled concern and questioning and the other with building anger and possession.

On cue, Zhongli snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you taut against his side. You swear you feel the hint of claws digging into your skin through the fabric of your dress, the remnants of his exuvia form.

“I had hoped to avoid meeting you here,” Zhongli states, eyes roaming over the scene, the scattered tea boxes, the twine in your hand, as he pieces together the situation, “but my wife is too kind for her own good sometimes.”

Neuvillette’s eyes browse over your form, examining your tense muscles and downtrodden eyes, the arms that remain at your sides. He’s seen cases just like this time and time again in court, but even so, it doesn’t take a legal profession to ascertain that you’re not particularly fond of your husband. And given Morax’s propensity for contracts, Neuvillette’s senses immediately go on alert.

The Chief Justice clears his throat. “Not at all. I think it quite generous of her to have dedicated her time to making my travels easier.” He tries to give you a reassuring smile, but you’re too focused on Zhongli who, despite his collected demeanor, you realize is a thread away from snapping.

Just what kind of battle between dragons have you gotten yourself into the middle of?

“Is that so? Perhaps she took pity on an old man such as yourself. I hear it can be difficult to carry so much after you’ve departed from your prime.”

“Old man?” Neuvillette barks a laugh, but quickly coughs and regains his composure. “Quite ironic coming from you, Rex. Besides, I feel quite reinvigorated these days. One can only assume it’s due to the balances of power returning to their rightful due.”

Zhongli flashes a hint of his canines, the only giveaway to his building rage. “Rightful is quite a biased term. We wouldn’t want to start a war now, would we?”

Neuvillette’s eyes glint like a sword ready for battle. “And you would know quite a bit about inciting wars, wouldn’t you, Rex?”

Dear Archons, you need to stop this before these two lunge at each other’s throats.

“Zhongli,” you try to placate with a soft voice, the name and tone you know he so adores from you, “I believe that Neu—uh, the Chief Justice was on his way back to Fontaine. I only wanted to help him wrap up his purchases correctly for the journey. If we assist him together, then we can head to the Pavilion for tea after, yes?” Part of you is disgusted at yourself for having to grovel, but you can’t allow two immensely powerful draconic beings to brawl over tea in the middle of the village.

Though you have an strong inkling that the argument isn’t over tea.

Your suggestion lands. Zhongli’s muscles relax as he peers down at you, those immovable, amber eyes softening slightly as he drinks you in. The roaming hands across your back and waist, however, hint that you’ll be getting an earful in private. Though of the likely punishments he has in store for you, that’s the least of your worries.

With a single snap of his fingers, Zhongli uses the power of geo to bind Neuvillette’s parcels together. “There. Consider the issue resolved. My wife and I have matters to attend to.”

Zhongli quickly begins to pull you away, and you think you hear a growl over your shoulder from Neuvillette’s direction. “Careful, Rex. I would be most displeased to have to take one of your contracts to court. In the face of the law, they aren’t as omnipotent as you believe them to be.”

You wince, the statement hitting a bit too close to home. Zhongli, on the other hand, goes as still as stone. “That sounds awfully like a threat, Neuvillette.”

“A mere warning. It is of your own fault to read too deeply into it.”

Neuvillette then turns his attention to you, placing a single tea box into your shaking hands. You have no clue when he separated it from the rest.

Leaning in, his voice drops, low enough to be directed to you, yet you know Zhongli hears it clearly. “You are more than welcome to Fontaine. I will see to your accommodations personally, if you so choose to visit. I believe a spirit like yours would be greatly appreciated in our nation.”

All you can do is shake your head forlornly. Never in a million lifetimes will Zhongli allow it, not even before this encounter. You’ll have to settle for seeing Fontaine through your dreams alone.

Straightening with a frown but understanding the position you must be in, of the contract that binds you to the Geo Archon, Neuvillette lets the matter drop. He turns to leave, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “And her name isn’t wife, Rex. It’s…”

You swallow thickly. “(Y/n),” you finish, a mere breath.

Neuvillette gives you a final smile in return. “My offer will always stand, (Y/n). Happy Lantern Rite.”

Moments after he’s out of sight, Zhongli dips his nose into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and rubbing his over your skin. “You stink of that other male…but I know how to amend that.”

Needless to say, you did not make it to tea that afternoon.

It wasn’t until that night when Zhongli was asleep, clawed limbs and scaly tail entangled with your naked form, that you deem it safe to open the tea box Neuvillette gifted to you.

Core pounding, you grimace as you stand, the many possessive and claiming bite marks and bruises across your skin even worse than usual. He didn’t lie about wiping any scent of the other dragon away, if the past few hours of nonstop sex were any indication.

You make your way to the kitchen trash, where Zhongli had immediately disposed of it upon arriving home. Heart pounding, you lift the lid.

A shimmering blue vision reflects in your pupils.

[holybibly]

This is a little preview of my new series and yes, bunnies, this is a whole series from me. I hope everyone is ready for an erotic dystopia?

Decadent dystopian erotica with majestic dragons - second teaser for today

Glass House Ateez x reader

Everything changed in an instant. 

The king was dead, and thousands of dragons took to the burning skies. The old world was over, and a 'new age' was in the making—an age of gods and monsters. 

A thousand years ago, the fires of revolution blazed across the face of the world. Dragons—the creatures of ancient legends and children's fairy tales—reduced the once prosperous world to ashes in a matter of minutes. Rivers of black blood coursed through the veins of the streets, flooding the cities and lands in their wake. The sky was a blaze of purple flames and electric shocks. The church was reduced to rubble, and the royal family was executed in a public display. In the eyes of the dead, the unspoken horror in front of these majestic creatures remained forever, and in the sparks of the flames, they shimmered like precious sea stones. 

There was a bitter smell of burning flesh and ash in the air. It was the smell of dreams on fire—the smell of a future in decay. 

It was the beginning of the end of ancient life. The beginning of a new world. The Age of Immortality has begun. 

All the legends turned out to be true; dragons did exist. They had always lived close to us, lurking in the velvety darkness of the night, waiting for the hour. Waiting for the hour to come when the power would be in their hands. Dangerous, unbridled, wild creatures of magic and the elements, predators at the top of the food chain. They had come into the world to rule, not to obey, and now, at long last, their time had come. 

The world was at anarchy. Dragons were killing, raping, and enslaving races and lands as if it were an amusing child's game. They drank blood as black as the night from golden bowls, and they ate our succulent flesh as our bones cracked under the pressure of their razor-sharp teeth. They would hold orgies in the midst of the torn corpses and revel in their omnipotence. Those were the days of darkness. A time of terror, when the very word danger was a synonym for life itself. And so it went for several years, until the ultimate power fell into the clutches of the deadly Children of the Night, the oldest of all dragons. 

The majestic Hala. 

Eternal as the moon itself and deadly as the uncharted depths of the ocean, they inspired burning terror in all who encountered them. To their people, they were nothing more than a myth, a legend written on fragments of tablets. Forefathers, ancestors—they had hundreds of names, but each one inspired more fear than the last. They were predators among predators, bristling with animal dominance and primal, unbridled sexuality. They exuded power and sinfulness. They were the ones who defined the rules and set the boundaries of what was permissible. 

With the arrival of Hala, a new phase in the history of the world began. 

Humanity was enslaved, and dragons became the dominant species. As the years went by, the human population began to decline rapidly, with fewer and fewer humans, until "our" species reached the status of gatherers. Angelicus Nova, or Angel Stars, was what we came to be called. Human existence took on a strange religious orientation; we were worshipped, idolized, and adored, but despite all this, humans remained nothing more than a rare exchangeable currency, nothing more than an expensive trinket that was prestigious to own and could be broken with a flick of the wrist. 

The human being also became one of the ways in which money flowed endlessly. These institutions were known as "glass houses." Gateway to heaven. They would be the equivalent of strip clubs or luxury escort houses if you and I were in the old world. The rules were the same: "Look, but don't touch." Girls and boys were expensive pieces of family jewelry that rested under the glass of fancy display cases. Our masters showed us off to the greedy eyes of the world with all the pride and ostentation that dragons have. 

In spite of their possessive, animalistic nature, dragons were nothing more than swaggering bastards with inflated egos and delusions of grandeur.

Humans could be anything as long as dragons owned us—a muse, an innamorata, a nymph, an angel, a siren, or even a goddess—but like everything else in the universe, we came at a price. 

The 'glass houses' were only in operation at night. During the day, all the 'jewels' rested and tidied up after tiring hours of contemplation of the world through the bluish glass of the display window. Nice, obliging workers in starched white collars were busy with the cleaning, scrubbing the baroque decorations of the vetrines with great care from a mixture of sperm, drool, and other secretions. You looked at it with an almost reverent awe, finding it disgusting to the point of bordering on the pornographically beautiful. 

You could see it as real art—crude and original, but art nonetheless. There was something particularly mesmerizing about it, almost hypnotic, about the way the thick, pearly sperm dripped slowly from the golden flowers. 

Of all the glass houses that ever existed, "Eros" was the most beautiful. It was the jewel in the crown of the New Empire, and you were its goddess. There were rumors that the Hala themselves were customers of 'Eros'. But rumors were only rumors. If they were ever to visit your 'home', you would know about it, for they would be where all men ended up—at your feet. 

You were content with the life that you were living. There was no tragedy and no misery, no abusive family or abusive peers, no bullying and harassment at school—no, you had it all great. You were born here at Eros—the growth and blossoming of a beautiful flower. Your whole life has been within the confines of glass rooms and silk sheets, but unlike your dreamy friends, you weren't in need of rescue. 

Your name is Aphrodite. Born in the radiance of the Creator. A goddess among goddesses, carved out of marble and mother of pearl. Your hair falls to the ground in waterfalls of pearls and silk. Your eyes are the eerie silvery moonlight in half-darkness, the deadly attraction of jewels in velvet lashes. Your lips are the succulent, juicy, forbidden fruit that every man would like to taste. The pain of your kiss is going to be the last pleasure of life. 

You are not a delicate, pure lily; you are not a passionate, fiery rose; you are a narcissus reveling in the crystal of mountain waters. You love yourself to pain, to death, to despair, and in all the New Empire, there was none more beautiful than you. 

Original sin. The primordial beauty. You are desire in all it manifests and begins to manifest. 

The naked goddess, clad in snow-white fur like armor, is the goddess of love and ecstasy. 

You've never been conceptualized; you've always been enigmatic. 

You have been the object of worship. Your beauty has been sung in songs, and your love has been professed in a thousand languages. "Eros" was the site of visits from the mightiest and most powerful dragons of the New Empire. They all crawled at your feet, stroking their thick, greased with their cum cocks, greedily as they burned your skin with their golden gaze. They licked the deceptively thin glass of your display case with their long, sometimes split tongues, leaving muddy streaks on the perfect surface of the glass. The mighty and great dragons, unaccustomed to humiliation and submission, urinated like bitches in heat at the mere sight of your bare shoulders and long neck covered with diamond serpents, their eyes shining like stars in the twilight of your silken chambers. They would drip their sperm onto the icy marble floor until it collected in small, glistening puddles, and then they would lick it up as if it were the sweetest nectar in the world. Ambrosia in the truest sense. 

Behind the glass walls of Eros, they were dominators, predators, and the rulers of this world through fear and pain, but here in this garden of Eros, they were nothing more than whores—shameless and needy. Slaves to your beauty, desperate to please you. 

Their moans are always a delight to you. The moaning of your name. 

The scenarios have been repeated to the point of being painful. Sugar-sweet subs with outstretched tongues and pretty, tear-stained faces. Dominant alphas with sweat-glistening skin and eyes rolling with pleasure.

Dragons fucked other dragons; orgies and bacchanals were staged; they were subjugated and subdued. They growled, moaned, squealed, and purred; some were fucked like a port slut, and some were licked for hours until they passed out from hyperstimulation. Some masturbated in front of your window, enjoying the fact that you were there to watch them, and there were others who would spend their heat and ruts in front of your window. 

The list could go on and on: bondage, darkphilia, breeding, voyeurism, humiliation, objectification, and breathing games.

You were saturated with this game. 

There were so many ways in which you could spend your evenings in the company of others. It was all designed to excite you, to make you beg, and to make you plead. Each of your visitors secretly hoped that one day you would strip off your luxurious furs and assume the position that was right for them—submissive, naked, and ready to accept whatever it was they were giving you. 

It was an act of power; it was a position of strength, but here you were the strength. You were power. 

No one would ever have the temerity to lay a hand on you. Goddesses are always untouchable.

You entertained yourselves by teasing them, mocking them, and fanning their flames of desire and passion. Dragons are creatures that are very dependent on their emotions and their desires; they feed on their power and their magic, but when they do not get what they want, it burns them from the inside; it breaks and crumbles them, like a cookie that has been bitten.

It was delicious, but you were full. Thank you, next.

You never denied that you were a sadist; you had a taste for pain; maybe it was a kind of revenge for the destruction of your family; maybe not. They came to you for that feeling; the dragons wanted to be punished and tamed, and the feeling of pain made them cum harder. As they say, Orgasm is a little death.

You could play this game for hours on end, letting the fur expose your boobs and pressing it against the cold glass as you went. It was magnificent—tall and plump, as if it had been milked with milk—with pink nipples the color of magnolia blossoms. There was something animalistically seductive about it—an appeal to their natural reproductive instincts—that evil thought of possible pregnancy. Their whimpering made you laugh, and the sounds they made were so sweet—desperate pleas and long, long moans.

"Let me taste you; I want it so much. I was a good boy, such a good boy."

There were other days when you would let your hands run over the bare skin of your thighs, leaving long red streaks that stood in erotic contrast to the silk of your pale skin. You smeared the clear, shimmering liquid of your juices along the line of your neck, in that most exciting place for dragons, where their teeth locked in a mating mark, as if branding their mate in the most perverse of affiliations.

"Tell me I belong to you; please say it. I'll do anything you don't want. Own me, use me; I want to be your toy.".

Sometimes other girls would be brought into your shop window to put on an erotic show. Exquisite nymphs and rosy-cheeked Lolitas would explore your tender skin with their soft, wet tongues, leaving traces of hungry kisses, until at last their lips would close on the most intimate spot between your thighs.

On days like this, the whole of 'Eros' would shake with furious, jealous growls and thunderclaps. Dragons were terrible possessive, and even though the "scene" itself would excite the hell out of them, the jealousy would burn through their veins from the inside out, like a deadly poison.

"You belong to me, and only to me. You are mine, mine and mine alone. I will tear this girl apart, and we will fuck in her blood until there are no more conscious thoughts left in your pretty little head, until you remember nothing but my name.".

But no matter what their words were to you, you didn't have a care in the world. Nobody would dare touch the goddess, and if they tried, they would not only lose their hands but also get killed.

That was the law of the New Empire—all the people who were left were protected and sheltered in an incredible way. There were very few of you, and if there had been any harm to even one of you, it would have been a real tragedy.   Only once has there been a breach of that law, and the consequences have been terrible. No one wants a repeat.

In any case, your life in the Garden of Eros was a pleasure. Maybe it was some kind of perverse way of looking at the world and love, but you didn't have any desire to change anything; everything was great.

Have you ever wondered if there might be another version of you out there? Perhaps, somewhere in a parallel universe, humans would still exist as the dominant species, their countries and cities would be prosperous, and you would be living a different life—a normal one. There, in that other universe, that other Aphrodite—no, not Aphrodite—you would have an ordinary name, not a divine one, something cute, something sweet, and always with a hint of shyness. It is probably there that you would have experienced your first love, that you would dream of a prince who would take you off into the sunset, and that "and they lived happily ever after." You would have been embarrassed to talk about sex, and you would have blushed horribly if his fingers had been in your knickers. But you weren't her. And she wasn't you. You don't want to be saved from sinning; you want to become one of them. You want to experience forbidden pleasures. You want to subjugate and dominate.

You're not in need of a prince; you've already had a king, or rather, eight kings. The day will come when everything you have ever dreamed of will come true, even if you haven't met any of the Hala yet.

You want power; you want to sit on a golden throne in a castle high up in the sky, and so it shall be. They say that love is a great strength, but they fail to mention that it is also the greatest weakness. And you, like no one else, know how to use it to your advantage.

This is not a pink fairy tale. There are no rainbow ponies pooping rainbows and eating fairy dust. No, this is a rotten world. It is full of debauchery, violence, and sex. You could say, "Come and rescue me. I'm waiting for  you," but no, you have to rephrase it as "I'm waiting for you to crawl on your knees and lick my heels, and from that moment on, I will own you.".

Yes, that sounds much better.

It's already eight o'clock; time to get ready; you're leaving soon.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the most famous glass house in the New Empire. Tonight we have wet aesthetic cunnilingus as our main course, and for dessert, a mind-blowing orgasm. You have a choice of starters. Drinks are on the house. We accept cash and checks. If you wish, you can leave a tip for one of our "jewels.".

Our hope is that your time at Eros will be an unforgettable experience.

[thrillofhope]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @klynnvakarian and @myfavouritelunatic

A bit from a later chapter of a second age fic in which Gil-galad takes a secret wife.

“You once offered to make me a crown,” Gil-galad said, a finger tracing over a precious stone set in silver. Celebrimbor looked up from his work, the Mírdain having left for the evening, Lord Annatar with them. “One you categorically refused to wear, if I remember correctly.” He looked to the ring on his finger out of habit. “Yes, well, you’ll forgive me my hesitance. To take on such a power, untested, alone—” “It was not a condemnation,” the smith said, setting his hammer down. “Rather, a curiosity. The crown you wear now—” “It has always made me feel like my name could belong in a list with my forebears.” A contemplative look crossed the Fëanorian’s face and he could understand why. Many years ago, in a haven by the sea, they had spoken of the weight of legacy. To see the smith now, he was on the cusp of finishing his masterwork, a craft that would rival the pride of Fëanor. It was no small thing. Neither had been taking up a crown in his youth, one that seemed to mean death, one that came with the burden of glorious deeds. “You would have me fashion you a new one?” “I would have you fashion a crown fit for a queen.”

Tagging @scriberated @90shaladriel @theriverwild and anyone else who wants to share!

[lydiacallas]

Me, you, forever and after.

Authors note : Hii! This is my first time posting fanfiction on to social media, especially F1 RPF, so pls go easy on me and if there's any comments or such, please, comment as you wish! Also, my first language isn't English, so there could be some mistake in spelling.

The first day Mark Webber met him, was when he had just turned 18, his parents brought him to the palace, to meet the king and queen in the flower garden. He slightly raised his eyes up, out of curiosity when he is standing by. In front of him, besides the famous cold first prince Raikkonen, there was a 7-year-old boy with curly golden hair, blue eyes like glass marbles that commoner children often played with, standing next to him. Those eyes were beautiful. They shone with a wild mischief instead of the cold indifference of the first prince. "This must be the second prince Sebastian." He thought to himself. Suddenly their eyes met, the blue eyes slightly narrowed in a very mischievous smile, a pang of panic set in, he lower his eyes. Could it be that he had offended something? He didn't know, he only knew that after the little prince has left, and on the carriage home, his parents were very pleased to know that he would be appointed as the main knight for the little prince. When he asked why, they just said "because the little prince likes him." Now he knew that this little prince was very arbitrary. Very, very much arbitrary. The next day, he entered the palace to meet the master he would serve for possibly his whole life. He hope that the prince be somewhat pleasant. Before the palace gate could be opened, he heard the screams of the servants and maids echoing in the prince's main hall. Then the gate opened, the small figure of little prince Seb ran out, the cheerful laughter suddenly stopped, because the prince had just bumped into his leg…. Then there was another chaos….. It was almost noon when the little prince finally sat still, even though he was a bit sulky, to let him officially introduce himself. "Your Highness, my name is Mark Alan Webber, a knight from the Webber family. From now on, I will be your main knight." He probably didn't know that from here on, his life had turned a new page, with the pink ink strokes of "love."

11 years later.

The sky was pitch black on this beach on the outskirts of the royal capital. A few small stars twinkled in the sky as if dotted with precious stones, if you looked a little further, you could faintly see the colorful fireworks celebrating the little prince's 18th birthday dying out in the sky.

The sound of waves lapping against the soft white-yellow sand, the sea water splashed onto Mark's bare feet. The thin moon hanging in the sky emitted a gentle ivory light like the other days he came here for the comfort of this place.

Walking on that white sand road, he thought to himself.

This place was usually very deserted. Like a quiet private place in his subconscious, so every day he would walk alone on these seemingly endless stretches of soft white sand, listening to the sound of the waves as if they were soundless, he would hear the sound of the waves lapping against the soft sand in his head, knowing it by heart.

But sometimes, that solitude would be broken by a figure.

His ears caught something from afar, drowning out the sound of the waves in his mind. It was the clear laughter of Sebastian Vettel. He looked up, and a familiar figure fell into his eyes again.

In a simple ivory shirt and soft trousers, that simple, elegant white color was as brilliant as the most sparkling pearl in the midst of the sad black and white background of this world.

Lightly curly hair as golden as ripe wheat in the fields, deep blue eyes, a small face and a beautiful smile, he was like a dot that brought color to his boring world of only gloomy black and white.

He don't know since which night, this prince who just turned eighteen often secretly climbed over the palace fence to appear at his secret little beach.

Sometimes he would wander around humming a melody, running on the waves, picking up shells hidden in the sand, talking to him or absentmindedly sitting on the beach watching the moon, and letting the waves lap at his feet.

During the days of endless stress and worries in his life, he came to the deserted beach more and more. And the number of times this little prince was here increased as well.

"It's not too bad to have another companion, anyway." He thought. It wasn't that he didn't like his presence here. He sometimes even had a little bit of anticipation, even though it wasn't really good for him to be a knight guarding the prince and letting him run free like this.

The boy raised his head from watching the little crabs crawling, his innocent eyes turned and caught sight of Mark standing in the distance. They narrowed into a charming smile that always made Mark feel his heart warm every time he saw it.

A small hand gently lifted the hem of his shirt and ran towards Mark, his hair fluttering around his ears. He jumped into Mark's outstretched arms, the vanilla and flower scent of his wheat colored hair lingering on the tip of his nose. He intertwined his fingers through those strands of hair and stroked his head, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl into a small smile when he saw the mischievous smile on his lips.

His voice, he couldn't hear it clearly over the murmuring waves, but Mark's mind always remembered that sweet voice that chirped like a baby bird.

That nectar sweet voice has made Mark's heart tremble with love. He was afraid, because he realized that he had fallen in love with this little prince. What should he do?

But then when Mark held her lovely face and saw that innocent and genuine smile, Mark felt like he didn't need any answer.

He only knew that he loved this prince, who was as warm and radiant as a flame, with all his heart. He loved every smile, every look, every thing he did.

He loved his stubborn courage, he loved the way Seb's eyes sparkled in the afternoon sunlight when they were galloping together on horseback in the distant fields, he loved the way Seb loved the poor people and wanted to help them.

And he would do anything, anything. As long as he could spend his whole life, wholeheartedly protecting his smile and sincere heart, and protect the kingdom with him.

Thinking, he placed a kiss on his eyelids. A kiss as light as a dragonfly's wing. His cheeks blushed in embarrassment, saying why is he so strange today.

Yeah, why is he so strange?

" I don't know either. Maybe it's because I love you. "

" If you love me, promise to follow me for the rest of my life, do you hear Mark? "

" Yes, follow me, my prince. I will go with you for the rest of my life. Even in trouble, even in sickness or poverty, I will always walk by your side. "

So on that deserted beach, he and the little prince exchanged a shy kiss as light as a butterfly's wing. And from then on, they became destined to be together for a hundred years, forever and ever.

[ Inspired picture :D ]

[thepitofjob]

Job 28: 12-19: "Urim and Thummim."

Our interlude, a product of what is called Binah, "the understanding of the architecture of the data" continues as we delve into the properties of what is called the Ephod. The Ephod or chestplate all Jews own and wear, they put it on before they fix their hair under their turbans.

The purpose of the Ephod is found in Vayeshev:

25 Then they sat down to eat. And looking up they saw a caravan of Ishmaelites [those who hear, obey, and act] coming from Gilead [the heap of testimony stones, AKA the Ephod, the human heart], with their camels [young men bearing the virtues] bearing gum [sugar meaning kindness], balm [compassion], and myrrh [holiness], on their way to carry it down to Egypt. 26 Then Judah said to his brothers, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? 27 Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and let not our hand be upon him, for he is our brother, our own flesh.” And his brothers listened to him. 28 Then Midianite [strifers] traders passed by. And they drew Joseph up and lifted him out of the pit, and sold him to the Ishmaelites for twenty shekels[c] of silver. They took Joseph to Egypt.

-> seeing a cure for Strife, some mugs traded Prosperity which filled a dry well for wares from the Obedient Actors and went on their way.

The myrrh trade is borne by Reporters who understand the meaning of lessons of life which they lean in Gilead, the place whence one learns and incorporates the Testimony Stones. Men need all of these precious substances and minerals in order to extract the fruit, Joseph from the pit.

"And they drew Joseph up" like a fruit smoothie or something. The Value in Gematria is 9560, טהס‎, תחש, "like a dolphin." ‎The Kabbalah of the Dolphin refers to the speed and agility one has in the water, AKA "a hurrier".

Our interlude then must contain knowledge of the Ephod and the Gilead Fountain well ahead of time so proper comparisons can be made. The comparison of the frankinsense or myrrh trade to Binah is a good one. One must cut the tree, wait for the resin to myrrh to bleed, then one must harvest, dry, and transport it thousands of miles away to its final destination for evaporation in a sacred place:

12 But where can wisdom be found?     Where does understanding dwell? 13 No mortal comprehends its worth;     it cannot be found in the land of the living. 14 The deep says, “It is not in me”;     the sea says, “It is not with me.” 15 It cannot be bought with the finest gold,     nor can its price be weighed out in silver. 16 It cannot be bought with the gold of Ophir,     with precious onyx or lapis lazuli. 17 Neither gold nor crystal can compare with it,     nor can it be had for jewels of gold. 18 Coral and jasper are not worthy of mention;     the price of wisdom is beyond rubies. 19 The topaz of Cush cannot compare with it;     it cannot be bought with pure gold.

The stones in the Ephod are not to be taken literally. Each one has a hidden meaning. From Tetzaveh:

15 “Fashion a breastpiece for making decisions—the work of skilled hands. Make it like the ephod: of gold, and of blue, purple and scarlet yarn, and of finely twisted linen. 16 It is to be square—a span[a] long and a span wide—and folded double. 17 Then mount four rows of precious stones on it. The first row shall be carnelian, chrysolite and beryl; 18 the second row shall be turquoise, lapis lazuli and emerald; 19 the third row shall be jacinth, agate and amethyst; 20 the fourth row shall be topaz, onyx and jasper.[b] Mount them in gold filigree settings. 21 There are to be twelve stones, one for each of the names of the sons of Israel, each engraved like a seal with the name of one of the twelve tribes.

Four Rows = Four Directions, each has three attributes assigned to it.

22 “For the breastpiece make braided chains of pure gold, like a rope. 23 Make two gold rings for it and fasten them to two corners of the breastpiece. 24 Fasten the two gold chains to the rings at the corners of the breastpiece, 25 and the other ends of the chains to the two settings, attaching them to the shoulder pieces of the ephod at the front. 26 Make two gold rings and attach them to the other two corners of the breastpiece on the inside edge next to the ephod. 27 Make two more gold rings and attach them to the bottom of the shoulder pieces on the front of the ephod, close to the seam just above the waistband of the ephod. 28 The rings of the breastpiece are to be tied to the rings of the ephod with blue cord, connecting it to the waistband, so that the breastpiece will not swing out from the ephod.

The Blue Cord of the Intellect, where science informs the emotions and ensures they do not unhinge the rest is essential. As the Torah says, we must be married and bound by choice, by rule of law and evolutionary pressure. We cannot make ourselves in knights in shining armor, we must learn how to do it.

29 “Whenever Aaron enters the Holy Place, he will bear the names of the sons of Israel over his heart on the breastpiece of decision as a continuing memorial before the Lord. 30 Also put the Urim "lights from flames" and the Thummim "perfections, integrities" in the breastpiece, so they may be over Aaron’s heart whenever he enters the presence of the Lord. Thus Aaron will always bear the means of making decisions for the Israelites over his heart before the Lord."

We peform Binah as the Torah says in order to be effective in all that we do. As the Etymology says "to close the distance between oneself and other breathers."

"The verb בין (bin) means to understand (Job 18:2), consider (Deuteronomy 32:7), perceive (Proverbs 7:7), have insight (Jeremiah 49:7), discern (1 Samuel 16:18). In Arabic this word means to become separated. In Sabean an associated noun means the wise.

Two derivatives of this verb are בינה (bina) and תבונה (tebuna), both meaning understanding, which is quite logical, but derivative בין (ben) meaning 'between' is perhaps harder to distinguish.

A radar works by emitting bundles of rays. If the bundle is wide, two little objects in the distance will be reflected as one dot on the radar screen. If the bundle is narrow the two little objects will be separately distinguished.

This difficult adverb therefore primarily defines the identity of parties and their relative identity, rather than just the space between them. This is the reason why this word occurs double or triple in statements like: ביני וביניכם ובין כל־נפש חיה, literally: between me and between you and between all living breathers (Genesis 9:12)."

The Values in Gematria are:

v. 12-13: But where can wisdom be found? Not on this planet, sister brother.

The Number is 9364, טגוד‎ ‎‎‎, tagud, "an association or guild, binding society together through organization."

Associations are made up of survivors. Survivors are the ones that tell society about the evil they have seen and pressure the naive to avoid repeating the causes of depravity from which they escaped. All the religions are supposed to warehouse these experiences and petition their pilgrims to heed the wisdom of survivors.

v. 14-15: It is not in me, nor can it be bought. We already know one cannot exit the vagina and then become a very good man. Punishment will not incite wisdom, there is no incentive that can induce it. One must assert to oneself a Superior Being made the world and is wise in all things and the Torah is His doing. We know in fact that it is, so there should be not one problem explaining its value to mankind.

The Number is 8486, חדחו‎‎‎‎, "they were exhausted." In sanskrit, there is a term called jiva. Jiva means "life in bondage." Bondage, according to the Torah is forbidden. One may not, under any circumstances permit lordship over the Self by any other except the Spirit of God. The Spirit of God will never tell us what to do or force us to act. He will gladly supply us with His Wisdom, but what happens next is always a work in progress of our own making.

The more one attempts to fathom this, the fewer the moments spent in bondage. Eventually the jiva ends. Many wonder if this excludes every expectation or desire men experience, as if freedom from bondage means we are not allowed to do much of anything but sit up, wash, eat, drink, work, pee and then go to sleep. The Torah allows quite a lot, from certain things it teaches us to refrain.

Yes, one can engage in bondage, except one cannot fail in one's duties or responsibilities while doing it. That is not hard to understand.

The conscious decision to fulfill one's duties is the result of habit. The habit should not be broken or the "exhausted" tendency will gain new life and the jiva will return and begin to take over once again.

v. 16-17: It cannot be bought with Ophir: "Its strength must be broken."

"It's not clear what the unused verb אפר ('apar) might have meant but it's clearly not very positive and possibly has to do with being exhausted or depleted of inner strength and inherent merit.

Noun אפר ('eper) means ashes, which is what remains when all useful energy is extracted from a fuel. Noun אפר ('aper) means covering or bandage, which is what is applied over a limb when its inherent strength is broken."

The Number is 10382, קגחב‎‎, "the density of the darkness."

Jiva habits have to be drowned in the dense darkness of meditation. One must sit, close one's eyes and be able to take control of what is happening. For this exercise there is no substitute.

Even though I consider myself proficient at meditation, I still get angry, frustrated, or sad but I do not allow these emotional experiences to affect my lifestyle. I do not permit my emotions to have follow through or rebound in my actions. If they surface, I wait for them to pass by then I act. The expectations of one's actions must be managed well ahead of time and for that one must understand what the mind is like after it has gone dark.

v. 18-19: The price of wisdom is beyond rubies. Rubies are Kabbalah for the struggle I mention above. One must wrestle with addictive, compulsive, and aggravating impulses in the mind till one is the master. This is not fun. Rubies symbolize just how much fun this is not.

"The verb כיד (kyd) is also not used in the Bible but in cognate language it describes pains, strive or struggle, which is not far removed from כדד (kdd). This root's sole derivative is the noun כידון (kidon), meaning dart or javelin as an instrument of combat (1 Samuel 17:45, Jeremiah 50:42, Job 41:21)."

Javelins exist well beyond the range of the mind, the hand, the arms, the legs and feet. Well beyond the range of the struggle is the exhaustion of the jiva, still we aim the weapon of the mind and hurl our thoughts at it, and eventually the jiva will be caught.

The Number is 10504, יןד‎, "yind". "will be worn." What is worn is supposed to be the Self. Unlike the jiva, the Self is eternal, never worn out.

While it is indeed fun to get high and put on leather underthings and hang out with the fellas, this will eventually create a jiva, a lifestyle. The one can figure out how to harness the Self and wield it as if it were the sole driver is the one we want to become. Others will respect and listen to such a person. The former, he will not be respected as much.

[dfroza]

having a change of heart

A change of direction, a change of scene

the scenic view to come on to see the (Full Circle) inside, Anew

making amends with the end… (to find the beginning of)

A clear “mirroring” (inside & out)

“coming out” of the world and its identity, its fallen nature, to embrace a heavenly world marked by A new Adam (and new Eve)

to come to “believe…” the eternal tapestry

we simply must embrace True nature.

(to be reborn)

A reiteration of Today’s reading from the Scriptures with the 21st chapter of the book of Revelation coinciding this year with September 21 of 2024

the 7th day of the week (A Saturday sabbath)

[Revelation 21]

I looked again and could hardly believe my eyes. Everything above me was new. Everything below me was new. Everything around me was new because the heaven and earth that had been passed away, and the sea was gone, completely. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, prepared like a bride on her wedding day, adorned for her husband and for His eyes only. And I heard a great voice, coming from the throne.

A Voice: See, the home of God is with His people.

He will live among them;

They will be His people,

And God Himself will be with them.

The prophecies are fulfilled:

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

Mourning no more, crying no more, pain no more,

For the first things have gone away.

And the One who sat on the throne announced to His creation,

The One: See, I am making all things new. (turning to me) Write what you hear and see, for these words are faithful and true. It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. I will see to it that the thirsty drink freely from the fountain of the water of life. To the victors will go this inheritance: I will be their God, and they will be My children. It will not be so for the cowards, the faithless, the sacrilegious, the murderers, the sexually immoral, the sorcerers, the idolaters, and all those who deal in deception. They will inherit an eternity in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

And then one of the seven messengers in charge of the seven bowls filled with the seven last plagues came over to me.

Heavenly Messenger: Come with me, and I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb.

He took me away in the Spirit and set me on top of a great, high mountain. As I waited for what I thought was a bride, he showed me the holy city, Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God. It gleamed and shined with the glory of God; its radiance was like the most precious of jewels, like jasper, and it was as clear as crystal. It was surrounded with a wall, great and high. There were twelve gates. Assigned to each gate was a messenger, twelve in all. And on the gates were inscribed the names of the twelve tribes of Israel’s sons. On the east wall were three gates. On the north wall were three gates. On the south wall were three gates. On the west wall were three gates. And the city wall sat perfectly on twelve foundation stones, and on them were inscribed the names of the twelve emissaries of the Lamb.

My guide held a golden measuring rod. With it he measured the city and the gates and the walls. And the city is laid out with four corners in a perfect square, the length the same as its width. He measured the city with his measuring rod, and the result was that its length and width and height are equal: 1,444 miles, a perfect cube. And my guide measured the wall; it was nearly 72 yards high, in human measurements, which was the instrument the guide was using. The wall was made of jasper, while the city itself was made of pure gold, yet it was as clear as glass. The foundation stones of the wall of the city were decorated with every kind of jewel: the first was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, the fifth onyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, the twelfth amethyst. The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate expertly crafted from a single beautiful pearl. And the city street was pure gold, yet it was as transparent as glass.

And in the city, I found no temple because the Lord God, the All Powerful, and the Lamb are the temple. And in the city, there is no need for the sun to light the day or moon the night because the resplendent glory of the Lord provides the city with warm, beautiful light and the Lamb illumines every corner of the new Jerusalem. And all peoples of all the nations will walk by its unfailing light, and the rulers of the earth will stream into the city bringing with them the symbols of their grandeur and power. During the day, its gates will not be closed; the darkness of night will never settle in. The glory and grandeur of the nations will be on display there, carried to the holy city by people from every corner of the world. Nothing that defiles or is defiled can enter into its glorious gates. Those who practice sacrilege or deception will never walk its streets. Only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life can enter.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 21 (The Voice)

[plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms]

The Second Choice

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x mermaid!Reader (A Spin on The Little Mermaid #3)

Summary: As the rebellious Princess of the Mers, you wanted the best of both worlds. You chose to live your life with endless adventures on land while still being able to fulfill your duties to the crown. Ransom just happens to feature in many of your adventures.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY SMUT CONTENT. so much adult language, cocky Ransom, unprotected semi-public fucking in human form, anal, degradation, praise, squirting, overstimulation, spanking, choking, ANGST, dubcon breeding, unprotected monster fucking, FLUFF, soft boy Ransom

Word Count: 8.1k (One Shot)

A/N: I did not expect this to turn out this way. I set out to write something completely different for Ransom but here we are. Enjoy! You don't need to read the first two, but it is recommended so that you can have a more wholistic experience with the lore and how they all connect together.

Full Masterlist | Story Book Collection Masterlist

Autumn has to be your favorite season and you prefer to spend it on land. There was nothing like laying down on a beach lounger with the cool salty ocean breeze blowing wrapped in a knitted sweater and sipping on a hot drink. You sighed happily as you sank down further on your lounger, stretching your legs out and wiggling your toes. Your short skirt blew with the wind and tickled your thighs as you stared fondly at the crashing waves of your private beach property in Malibu. You mulled over your life and your Kingdom underwater as you often did on quiet nights like this.

The second choice.

Being the second child of the Queen of the Seas earned you a certain level of privilege. It came with the title of royalty, a precious princess to the kingdom. It came with the respect of your species and the protection of the warriors, but you were always the second choice. Thank the gods for that. You were more than happy to revert all of that responsibility over to your older half brother Steve.

An heir and a spare.

Crown Prince Steven was by all means the epitome of a future King, exemplary in combat and sharp in wit with a natural inclination for leadership. You were the spare. Just like your mother was for your Uncle Andy. Unlike your family, you disagreed with many Merfolk traditions and you were considered as different.

A wild card.

A brat.

Rebellious.

Difficult.

One important thing you disagreed with was the treatment of humans. You knew the significance and you understood that it was essential for survival, but you were always conflicted and you refused to directly participate. Still your love and loyalty for your kind was strong and you were still duty bound. So you delegated yourself to a task not many wanted but one where you found purpose in.

Gatekeeper.

That was what they called this role, held by only a few since it was established. Since the Merfolk population was limited, everyone had a part to play. Yours was to be the link between land and sea. Early on your ancestors realized that your people needed a way to navigate the human world, a way to ensure safety when on land and resources to use. You held your hand out in front of you, the precious stones and luxurious metals glittering with the soft light of your backyard.

Jewelry.

There was no shortage of riches from the sea, riches apparently that humans were willing to pay hefty amounts for. Your ancestors partnered with a poor fishing couple who were good of heart, but desperately struggling to feed their children. The agreement was that this family help the Merfolk on land and to keep their existence a secret in exchange for unlimited riches for generations to come and the protection of the Merfolk. From this partnership grew a global conglomerate that was now a household name for high end jewelry and ocean conservation.

The profit and influence from this company enabled your people to live and move comfortably on land. Your job was to maintain the relationship with your human partners and to ensure all Merfolk that came on land were well equipped and safe. They went to you first and you ensured safe passage for them.

You took a long sip from your drink, letting the warmth spread through your body with a satisfied hum. It has been a busy week for you with the launch of a new line of designs and a slew of promotional parties. There was still more work to be done so it was nice to have time to relax.

So deep in thought were you and in a comfortable cocoon that you didn’t realize a large shadow slowly drawing nearer behind you. If you were paying more attention, you would have heard the soft click as your back door opened. You would have heard the light padding of expensive loafers. You would have caught the scent of designer cologne.

It wasn’t until a hand clamped over your mouth that your body went on high alert. Your cup flew out of your hand and smashed against the wood of the deck, your screaming muffled by the hand. Your heart pounded frantically as you thrashed in an effort to be released. An amused chuckle halted your struggle and the smirking face that lowered to your view turned the fear to exasperated annoyance.

“Ransom, you fucking asshole!” you shrieked as you smacked his arm repeatedly. “You scared me!”

“You should have seen your face,” he laughed as he sat down beside you, pulling you onto his lap to kiss you breathless. “Your housekeeper let me in before she left.”

One hand was on the back of your head, keeping you in place as he continued to kiss you. You moaned as his tongue battled with yours, his forcefulness sending heat to your core immediately. His other hand was gripping your hip, moving you to press closer to his growing erection.

“You’re such a dick,” you mumbled, as he moved his mouth to your neck.

“You like this dick,” he chuckled, lifting you to properly straddle him and angling his hips to grind against you. “You miss this dick.”

He wasn’t wrong. He was a cocky dick but he gave good dick. Ever since you met him a couple of years ago at a party in Massachusetts, you couldn’t help but find his arrogant snarky personality entertaining. He was so brashly honest and uncaring of what other people thought of him that you found it oddly appealing as you traded witty comebacks back and forth. It helped that he also looked delicious and you just happened to need someone to warm your bed that night.

What was meant to be just a one night stand turned into a habitual no strings attached arrangement when three months later you saw each other again by chance at another party. You only got as far as the ballroom’s ornate bathroom that time and it took a while for your legs to be able to support you much to his smug satisfaction. From then on whenever you were in the same city, you sought each other out.

“You’re wet already, aren’t you?” he said as his hand slipped beneath your skirt, his thumb sneaking under your panties and swiping against your folds. “Dripping. I could probably just shove my cock in this pussy with no fight.”

“Ransom,” you whined, your hips moving in search of more friction.

“Impatient little brat. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so desperate for my cock.”

“Fuck me or get the fuck out of my house, Ransom.”

He chuckled when your threats melted into sighs as he pushed his thumb inside you, shallowly fucking you in a way that was no where near enough. He loved to tease you. A big part of what turns him on about you is how you fight back, meeting his own demanding nature with your own stubborn one. Getting a win over each other was sometimes better than the orgasm that follows, but nothing compared to the image of having you an angry whimpering mess beneath him.

He pulled his thumb out and popped it in his mouth, making a show of twirling his tongue around your arousal that was coating his finger. He kept your gazes locked the whole time, noting how your breath hitched and your eyes darkened.

“Still the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” he hummed. “Quiet now, aren’t you?”

The small growl you let out amused him to no end and he wanted to keep riling you up, but the tightening in his pants was becoming urgent. He smacked your ass and dumped you back on the lounger before he stood.

“Hands and knees.”

You wanted to let out a sharp remark or roll your eyes at his commanding tone, anything to antagonize him but the sight of his big beautiful cock out made your mouth water. You maneuvered yourself around just as he asked, opening your mouth for him in anticipation.

“Good girl,” he said, running the tip of his cock lightly along your lips. “Show me how much of a whore you are for this cock.”

He slipped his cock into your mouth, easing in until his full length was hitting the back of your throat. He let out a long low groan, one hand firmly on the back of your head to keep you in place. His pace started slow until he was thrusting into your mouth with the sole purpose of using you for his pleasure.

“Fuck. That's right. Take that cock just how I taught you.”

You relaxed your throat and flattened your tongue, staring up at him to encourage him to be rougher with you. You can take it. You could always take him. Watching him lose himself in your mouth made your pussy clench, his eyes burning with lust and his jaw ticking. You rubbed your thighs together to ease the ache between your legs. You couldn’t help it. He just looked so good with that feral look in his blue eyes. Blue eyes that now flashed in anger down at you.

You felt his fingers dig into the back of your head as a resounding crack shocked you forward making you choke on his cock, your bottom stinging from two more quick slaps that followed. You yelped, the sound garbled and muffled as you were pressed close to his pelvis. His fingers forcing their way inside you with no warning.

“Greedy. Little. Brat.”

Each word was punctuated with a sharp jerk of his hips and a twist of his fingers inside you. Your slick was dripping down your thighs and soaking his hand, your pussy was pulsing and clenching. More. You needed more. Your hips began to wind and push against his hand earning you a dark chuckle from above you.

“You’re just such a desperate slut, aren’t you?” he said, his tone mocking you.

He groaned as you swallowed around him, your eyes meeting his and glinting with mischief. You knew how to press his buttons too. He pulled himself out of you suddenly and grabbed you by the neck to raise your face to his, spit shining around your mouth and chin.

“That how you wanna play today, princess?”

You smirked, the nickname carrying a certain irony given how Ransom didn’t know how accurate it actually was. You leaned your face closer and ran your hands up the soft texture of his sweater, fearlessly meeting his fury to nip on his plump bottom lip before slowly pulling back and winking devilishly at him.

The growl he let out sent a new wave of arousal through you, the electricity buzzing down your spine as he crashed his lips to yours in a messy kiss. You moaned against his mouth, gasping as he pushed you off him. He manhandled you until you were on all fours again with your ass up for him, ripping your skirt and panties off in one go. He kept your loose cable knit sweater on though, loving how soft you felt all over.

You jolted forward as you felt him spit on your cunt, spreading it around with your slick up to your puckered hole. His thumb slipped in with little resistance and your body sagged as you welcomed it.

“Ransom,” you whined.

He hummed. Toying with your back entrance as he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaking core. Your pussy wept and clenched, your whole body screaming to be stuffed. The moment the head of his cock breached you, all thoughts flew out of your mind except for the feel of his girth stretching your walls in a way no other man or merman has ever done for you.

“God, you’re tight,” he grunted as he bottomed out. “But you’re taking me so well, princess. Like you’re made to take this cock.”

“More. Harder, Ransom,” you moaned.

He tutted at you as he continued with his infuriatingly languid pace, one hand gripping your hip to keep you locked in place. The bruises will be a nice thing to wake up to tomorrow. His thumb in your ass kept pressing in, contributing to your pleasure but it still wasn’t enough.

“Come on, princess. You know what to say.”

“Fuck!” you screamed as he rolled his hips, reaching deeper inside you and building up that fire inside you just a bit more. “Just fuck me harder, you goddamn prick.”

“You know what I wanna hear,” he chuckled. Another roll of his hips and your legs were starting to quiver with the tension. “Say it.”

“Please,” you muttered under your breath.

The hand on your hip gripped tighter and his hips snapped sharply, the sound of your skin meeting drowned by your yelp. “Say it louder.”

You gritted your teeth, your stubborn head telling you to disobey. Your body was shaking now, teetering over the edge of an almost orgasm. Another sharp thrust, pushing hard into both your holes, had your resolve crumbling.

“Please, Ransom. Take me harder, please.”

You turned your head and caught the slow smirk curve on his face and the excitement of knowing rippled through you. All at once his pace changed drastically, pounding into you until you were practically falling through the lounger. You screamed your pleasure into the night, falling instantly into your first orgasm.

“Good girl,” he panted from behind you, his thrusts not slowing even as you continued convulsing beneath him. “Keep going.”

The smug bastard kept fucking you through to another rippling orgasm, his thumb joined now by another finger to prep you for what he wanted next. He bit down on his lip to stave off his own release, but your walls pulsing around him and your mewling was making it difficult. He grabbed you by the neck and pulled you up flush against him as he pulled out of you, your weakened body grateful for the support.

His cock was glistening with your cum, aiding in his entrance through your puckered hole. His hand around your throat tightened, just as tight as your walls around his cock. You felt his hot breath around your ear as he groaned in satisfaction. His other hand trailed down your overheated body to spear his fingers through your weeping core. The curses and pleading just kept spilling from your lips.

“This is how you like it. Right, princess?” he said as his fingers pushed and tapped relentlessly inside you, hitting that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “You like me stuffing both your holes where the neighbors could just look out their windows and see how much of a slut you are for me? Come on then, princess.”

His hands and cock worked in complete synchrony to deliver you to your ruin; digging, prodding, scissoring, pushing, pounding, and choking you just right. Your sweater drooped down your shoulder and his mouth took it as an invitation to latch on, biting and sucking his stamp of ownership over you. You could feel the coil impossibly tighten, already on the brink of snapping completely.

“Make a mess for me.”

You keened sharply as ecstasy consumed you, your vision exploding with fireworks and tears. Your whole body shook violently with pleasure as your release continuously drenched the once pristine white cushion beneath you, his hand rubbing and slapping now at your throbbing clit.

"Fuck. That's it," he groaned. "Goddamn, you feel good."

You could vaguely hear the string of profanities and praise he let out as he railed into your ass in time with the thundering in your ears. He pulled you back with a hard bite down on your shoulder as he emptied himself inside you with a feral roar.

For a while, no words were exchanged between you. There was only heavy panting, heartbeats that struggled to slow, and hands that roamed lazily. He turned your head to catch your lips in a slow kiss that made you shiver. It was the complete opposite of the manner he just took you, but was always welcome. He pulled out of you and drew you back to sit between his legs, his hands slipping beneath your sweater to palm at your breasts with interest.

“I didn’t know you were in town,” you said as you leaned further back against him.

“Charles Blackwood was having a birthday party in LA. Got bored.” He tweaked your nipple and your back arched. “Knew I’d have more fun here.”

“Not enough strippers for your taste?” you teased. “How long are you here for?”

“About a week,” he whispered against your ear, nibbling on your lobe and sneaking his tongue in. “Glad I caught you before your annual trip with your family. Can’t have you craving my cock for too long.”

“Just in time then. I leave in two weeks.” Your hand reached behind to card through his hair, pulling and scratching lightly at his scalp. He groaned and grinded his hips forward, his manhood starting to grow again. “Plenty of time for you to put your smart mouth to better use. I have some business meetings but I’m mostly free.”

“Oh, princess. Don’t make plans just yet.” He pulled your sweater over your head and tossed it aside, before he lifted you up into his arms and into your house. You laughed against his neck, your arms clinging to him. “I’m not even halfway done with you tonight.”

He caught sight of a few loose pearls on the lounger that he just assumed must have gotten knocked off from one of the pieces you were wearing. They hardly registered when he had your willing body pressed against his.

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

He didn’t leave until noon the next day, leaving you thoroughly sated and sore, but it would be a couple of days later when he came back. You were busy arranging your things for the meeting you needed to get to, checking the essentia paperwork to bring and shoving your belongings into your purse.

Ransom walked in like he owned the place and grinned at the business attire you were wearing that highlighted your body perfectly. You were beautiful in anything you wore, there was a fiery radiance to you and a presence that was captivating, but seeing you dressed like this made you look powerful and in charge. His cock was already hardening and he hasn’t even touched you yet. He couldn’t wait to rip it off you.

“Hey, princess. Busy today?” he smirked as he sauntered over to you.

He abruptly halted before he could reach you when another man came into the room, dressed similarly to you and frowning at the tie he was struggling with in his gloved hands. He was tall and wide, built like a brick wall with icy blue eyes and sharp bone structure. Ransom noted that his hair was still damp, an obvious sign that he got ready here.

He scowled when their eyes met, a sudden wave of possessiveness taking him by surprise when the other man stood far too closely to you for his liking. You were oblivious to the death stare match they were having, too busy thinking of the tasks needed to be accomplished today.

“Ransom this is Bucky. Bucky this is Ransom,” you casually introduced them, taking the tie from Bucky and fixing it for him hurriedly. The intimate yet familiar gesture made Ransom’s jaw clench. “Wait for me in the car, Buck. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Are you sure, princess?”

Ransom growled at the use of the term. That was his pet name for you. It infuriated him how you didn’t even react to another man calling you that. You were by no means exclusive with each other. You weren’t dating. You also made no promises that this arrangement would lead to anything else. It suited you both since you weren’t ones to be tied down, but neither of you had seen the other with someone else.

It was hypocritical of Ransom particularly since he was still upholding his reputation as a playboy and you weren’t exactly waiting around for the next time your paths crossed. That was the deal, but Ransom never did do well with sharing. You weren’t his, but for the first time since he met you he thought that maybe he wanted you to be.

As soon as Bucky was out the door, Ransom’s furious expression was on you and his low snarl froze you on the spot. “Who the fuck was that?”

“What the hell is your problem? I told you that was Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he growled in your face. “Who is he to you, princess?”

You were surprised by this unexpected outburst and the venom in his use of the pet name made you flinch, but you weren’t one to back down. This princess bows to no one. You lifted your chin and met his gaze unflinchingly as the realization began to dawn on you.

Ransom was jealous.

Bucky was a Queen's Guard who regularly would check up on you and the other Merfolk onshore. This time around he also escorted a few of your people to you and helped send them on their way. This afternoon he was accompanying you to meet with the human family you were bonded with. He was also your older brother’s closest friend, a mainstay in your life since childhood. Ransom had no reason to be jealous of him, but you were in no mood to pander to his childish behaviour.

“He’s a family friend.”

“I can see just how friendly you two are,” he scoffed.

“What if we are?” you challenged him. “That’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it isn’t! Are you really that much of a cock hungry whore that you can’t even go two days without looking for something to fill your cunt?”

The crack of your hand as it met his cheek threw the room into a tense silence. Your chest rose and fell heavily as you struggled to control your indignation, hot tears stinging your eyes. Never had anyone spoken to you this way. Never had Ransom used those words on you with malice and you hated to admit to yourself that it hurt you more than you expected.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t get to make me feel bad when you’re not exactly discreet about your conquests,” you shot back, mirroring the rage that was evident on his face. “You don’t get to judge me when your bullshit is splashed across gossip blogs on a regular basis. You even went viral for your dick pic on Instagram. Good for you.”

“You. Vicious. Little. Bitch.”

You sneered at how the veins on his neck were popping with each punctuated word. He was shaking with barely restrained fury, his fists clenched at his sides and a small bleeding cut on his cheek from the ring you wore on your hand that struck him. Good. If you weren’t so furious, you would have thought that anger just made him more attractive.

“You do not own me,” you spat, taking a confident step toward him. “Now if you’re quite done with your temper tantrum, I have a meeting to get to. You can wait here for me to come back in a few hours and we can talk when you’ve calmed down. ”

“You must be insane to think I’d wait here for you like some puppy.”

“Fine. Then don’t.” You threw your hands in the air in dismissal. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

You grabbed your things and marched toward the door. You looked at him one last time, your face turning oddly sad before you fixed it to one of icy indifference.

“Goodbye, Ransom.”

The door slammed behind you with a finality that echoed in the now empty room where he still stood. He wasn’t sure which was more bruised, his cheek or his pride.

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

You expected Ransom to not be there when you got back, but it still stung when you came home to an empty house. Out of all the many properties your kind owned on land this mansion was your favorite which was why you chose this as your permanent residence. Built and decorated with the thought that it was an extension of the sea, with its open spacious interiors in a coastal design and a backyard with a large pool that led to the private beach. It always felt comfortable and welcoming to you. It felt like home.

Now as your heels clicked on the wood floors, you feel for the first time how empty it was. Even as you opened more lights and drew back curtains, the large house still felt cold and you felt it seep into your chest. Your free spirited lifestyle ensured endless parties, countless interactions with humans, a freedom to travel as you wished, work that was a passion for you, and a string of lovers. You had the best of both worlds and the privilege to enjoy it to the fullest. You could hardly say that you were alone, but now somehow you felt lonely. Your chosen independence, just earlier filled with gratification, now left you feeling unfulfilled.

Was it really all because of Ransom?

The answer came almost two weeks later. Two weeks of constantly checking your phone for any calls or messages only to be disappointed because both of you were too prideful to reach out first. You suspected that he would have already gone home when a week went by and there was still no sign of him. The internet gossip blog you stumbled on confirmed it. You would deny to anyone who asked that you were looking for news about him. He was back in Massachusetts with a new girl on his arm at another party. It hurt. That you couldn't deny.

Yes. It was all because of Ransom.

A life of fun and endless possibilities, but with no one to share it with. It never bothered you before, but Ransom's absence from your life had more of an impact than you anticipated. He made you laugh with his ranting about his insufferable family. He complimented you on your new designs, always sending a quick congratulatory message on each new launch. He even challenged your decisions in business matters you had shared. He wasn't romantic but he had a habit of bringing you his favorite biscuits when he came to visit. He would say it was because you had subpar taste in after sex snacks, but he always ended up feeding you most of it and licking the crumbs from your lips. The sex itself was not just mind blowing, but he had opened you up to more exploration.

Despite how little time you actually spent together, you realize now how comfortable you were with him. You realize just how much you enjoyed his company, that you actually looked forward to it. You realize now that you surprisingly trusted that spoiled overgrown child of a man.

And you realize now that you were in love with him.

You groaned and cussed at yourself. It was absurd. You knew how stupid it was. It was also equally idiotic to have postponed your trip back to your kingdom in the disillusioned hope that he might still call you. Your spirit was waning and your body was terribly weakened, your magic struggling to maintain your human form.

You stripped off your clothes and elegantly dove into the pool, reaching deep before you twirled and a soft glow enveloped you. You sighed in relief as your legs morphed into your tail, the pain you had been feeling the last few days lifting temporarily and yet your chest still felt heavy with the last conversation you had with Ransom. You took your time circling the depths of your expansive swimming pool, allowing yourself to recover as much as it could but at this point you had no choice now but to leave tonight.

Merfolk power came from the sea and prolonged separation weakened you. Your annual trips back to your kingdom were born out of necessity, a way to recharge your magic and strength where Mer magic was the strongest for you to be able to return to shore again. If you don’t go tonight, your magic will dissolve and your body will waste away.

You will die.

However, this time you were as reluctant to leave as you were to come back. What would be the point of coming back? There was suddenly no more joy in your life here and truthfully you don’t think you can take seeing more news of Ransom or risk running into him. Perhaps it was time to talk to your mother. Perhaps it was time to find a different purpose for you.

Your head popped up out of the surface, sighing heavily and staring forlornly at the night sky. You would miss the sky. It was one of your favorite things about the shore. You could spend hours just watching the colors change from the dusky sunrise to the clear blue to the stormy grays to the fiery sunsets. Your favorite was the bright blue of morning, filled with the choice of a day of adventures ahead or lazy musings. The possibilities were endless with the morning sky. It would now remind you painfully of Ransom, but you were decided. You’ve had a good run on shore. You’ve lived your life as you pleased without the burden of your title holding you back.

It was time to be a proper princess for your kingdom.

“So this is your secret.”

Your eyes widened as you turned toward the voice, your tail automatically carrying you to the edge to hide yourself. It was no use though. He had already seen everything and as you stared up at him, you couldn’t help the thrill of seeing him again or the wistful smile that curved your lips that you were quick to tamp down.

“Ransom.”

“You’re a mermaid.”

Your face dropped and your eyes turned downcast, trying hard to avoid his gaze as if it could hide your secret from him. As if it were shameful. When Ransom stepped out onto your backyard, he could hardly make sense of what he was seeing. He must be high, but as he watched you swim so gracefully beneath the surface he became more and more mesmerized by your movements. He was hypnotized by how the color of your tail shone with the subtle lights of your home and the gentle silver of the moon. It made the flaming hues of your lower half stand out more, like a bursting sunset of red and gold. He was caught by your beauty the moment he first saw you, but this was different.

You were enchanting.

You had enchanted him from the start and he now knew why. It explained how he was so magnetically drawn to you. How you had kept his attention where all else had failed. How you kept creeping into his mind when you were apart. How he craved you. It told him that it was never a choice, he would never have been able to resist you even if he wanted to.

He really never wanted to.

He almost thought it unfair. You were magical and he was human. He was a lost cause from the start, but while it explained much it didn’t cover everything. It didn’t explain why he relished your laughter or admired your work ethic. It didn’t explain why he genuinely liked to hear your stories. It didn’t explain how he could be comfortable enough to be honest with you. It didn’t explain the possessive surge he felt that day you fought or what made him say those words that were meant to hurt you.

In a move that was wholly out of character for him, he bent down to capture your chin in his hand and turn your gaze back to him. His other hand traced the elaborate gold band that circled your head with countless rare pearls and precious gems that dripped down to your hair.

A princess.

“You’re an actual princess too, aren’t you? That’s why that brooding asshole called you that last time,” he chuckled, the sound fraying your nerves. You weren’t sure whether he was mocking you or he was genuinely amused, but you couldn’t seem to look away. Not when for two weeks you wanted nothing more than to see him.

“You know there are rumors that the secret silent partner in your company is actually a Mafia clan,” he laughed loudly this time. “I guess swimming with the fishes has a different meaning to you.”

Your lips twitched in a barely contained smile before your head tilted to the side in confusion. “You don’t seem too surprised.”

“It makes sense,” he shrugged dismissively.

You barked your laughter, the nerves you were feeling earlier suddenly expelled with each breath and the lingering anger from your last interaction pushed aside for the time being. You shook your head, but leaned over the edge and craned your neck upwards to keep his eyes. His gorgeous aqua eyes that you now realized didn’t hold what you normally would expect from someone faced with what was known only as myth. There was no ill intent, fear, or disgust. They were cocky and playful just like Ransom always was with you. What was new was what was unexpectedly lining it.

Affection.

“I fail to see what part of this makes any type of fucking sense, Ransom,” you smiled as you flicked your fins up to the surface to emphasize your point.

For a moment he was transfixed with how your tail was lazily swishing before he looked back at you and there was that affection again that was making your face heat up. “The secrecy. How you don’t keep a public profile despite making the big decisions in the company. You actually own the damn company, don’t you?”

You nodded sheepishly and he chuckled again. His fingers travelled lightly along one string of pearls that decorated your head. “That also explains why you happen to be the only ones able to sell these kinds of pearls. They’re so rare. You can’t tell me how they’re made right?”

“Maybe. Someday. It’s a secret of the Mers,” you grinned cheekily. His smile grew at the thought that there was a someday, that he hadn’t already completely ruined things with you. “Still doesn’t explain how easily you’re accepting all of this though.”

“You forget that Harlan is a novelist and I grew up around his incessant rambling about literature,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes at the thought of his family. “Every design you put out has a little story about Merfolk. I thought it was a cool gimmick at first, but something about it always struck me as intimate. Like it was personal. You wrote them yourself, didn’t you?”

“I did,” you admitted quietly. You bit your lip nervously as you braced yourself to ask a more difficult question. “You honestly don’t find all this too strange?”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughed loudly. “My girlfriend’s a fucking mermaid!”

You felt your face heat up again at the sudden declaration. He’s called you many things, but he’s never called you that. Neither of you have ever acknowledged whatever you had as anything more than convenient fucking.

Still, why did it make your heart flutter?

“Wow. Got you speechless for once and I didn’t even need to choke you with my cock this time,” he snickered, enjoying the flustered look on your face and bringing his face closer to yours. So close that your noses were brushing and you could feel his long lashes on your wet cheeks.

“What? You don’t like being called my girlfriend, princess?”

“Ransom, I -”

“Marry me.”

You were stunned speechless and your instinct told you to recoil. It told you to run, but Ransom caught your wrist before you could retreat from him.

“You can’t be serious, Ransom,” you shook your head.

“Oh I’m completely serious, princess.”

“You’re fucking insane! You can’t possibly think that’s a good idea.”

He leaned away from you, dropping your hand as he stood to his full height. Your eyes widened when you saw him slowly strip his clothes. He threw them unceremoniously on the day beds, keeping eye contact with you and smirking at how your expression was somewhere between confused and aroused at the sight of him completely naked.

“Let me show you how good of an idea it is.”

It must be the fatigue of your power fading that you didn’t react fast enough when he dove into the water and dragged you under. The next thing you know, Ransom had you caged in his arms and his lips were on yours. You yelped against his mouth when you felt him pull at one nipple until it went hard beneath his touch. He flashed you another smug look before he stole another kiss and propelled you both up to the surface.

“Marry me,” he said the moment you broke air, crowding you against the edge of the pool. His hands roaming all across your body, exploring the new texture of your skin. “God, you’re so hot like this.”

“Ransom,” you gasped as his mouth moved to suck and nip along your throat, your neck instinctively dropping back to give him more access. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

He groaned as he felt your hands card through his hair and pull at the strands, unable to resist the attraction that was always so strong between you. He held you in place by your ass and pressed his throbbing erection against you. He bit hard into the sensitive juncture at the base of your neck and smiled against the newly forming bruise when he felt your fins curl around his leg to bring him closer. You could take any form and he would still know how to make your body sing for him.

“I don’t know about that. I think I like the idea of being a prince,” he laughed, his breath tickling your ear and sending shivers across your skin. “Marry me.”

His hands travelled lower, trailing fire all over your body as he groped at your breasts and gripped at your curves. His fingers soon reached below your pelvis and you would think that he had experience with mermaid anatomy by how fast he found your veiled entrance. It was your sharp inhale though and the way your fingers dug into his back that gave you away when he brushed against your core. He slipped his fingers past the pliant part of your tail and straight into your pulsating core.

“Fuck,” he growled. It was so different, somehow even more wet and tighter than you usually were. “I can’t wait to stick my cock in there, princess. Marry me.”

You moaned his name and shook your head even as his fingers were making your hips move in search of more. “We can’t.”

You keened when he found that spot inside you that had your resolve hanging by a thread. You tried to hang on to your reasoning. You tried to remind yourself that neither of you were the marrying type. Neither of you were the commitment type. You were both selfish and self-indulgent.

His free hand came around your throat, forcing you to look at him as he unraveled you with his fingers. You saw the determined set of his jaw and the burning desire in his eyes. He wanted you.

Every version of you.

“That’s it. Don’t you want me as your prince?” he teased as his pace quickened until he felt you were on the brink of climax. “Marry me, princess. Let go for me now.”

You came hard, your voice carrying like a melody through your freefall. Ransom was dead set on your ruin and convincing you to be with him. He needed to show you how good you were together. His painfully hard cock swiftly replaced his fingers and he felt like he was going to cum on the spot by just how you felt. It was out of this world. You were still mid orgasm and it was driving him into a frenzy how your walls were pulsing around him.

“I didn’t think your cunt could get any better. Goddamn.”

“Ransom,” you panted, nearing delirium now from pleasure. “Fuck me please. I need it. Please, I need it.”

The growl he let out was animalistic as he hammered into you, your mouths fusing and your tongues battled in between incoherent chanting of each other’s names. You were absolutely lost in each other, the water violently splashing from your crude movements. It wasn’t long before you were teetering over the edge again, one sharp snap of his hips sending you spiralling into bliss.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he grunted, his pace starting to falter as he neared his own end. “I’m gonna fill you up, princess. If you don’t wanna be my wife right now then you can be the mother of my brats first.”

You clenched around him at the thought and his hips stuttered. A small voice in the back of your mind warned you. If he came inside you right now in this form and in your vulnerable state, he would surely succeed in his task.

“Ransom, you can’t,” you protested weakly, still reeling from your climax and already building toward another.

“I can, princess,” he chuckled darkly as he continued to rail hard into you. “And I will. You want this too. I’m making you mine.”

The authority in his voice threw you into your next release, your walls milking him for all he would offer and pulling him into his own finish. He kissed you hard as he continued to pump his seed inside you, making sure every drop was pushed deep.

His lips slowly parted from yours, but he didn’t go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his twitching cock still nestled inside you, and his hands cupping your face with an unexpected tenderness that was mirrored in his eyes.

“Marry me.”

Through the jumbled mess of your thoughts, you scrambled again for your reasoning. You both were spoiled and wanted it all. You both valued your independence and freedom to have fun as you wished. You both walked away from each other during that fight. You both hurt each other. As if reading your mind, he rubbed his thumbs over your cheeks to calm your protests before he spoke.

“After the fight, I spent a lot of time thinking. I was ready to just bury myself in the next pussy I see and forget all about you,” he started gently. “Then I found out we were all getting cut off from my grandfather’s will. All I am is my money and without that who am I? I went into a dark place, princess.”

You saw him struggle with his words and your heart softened at this rare show of vulnerability. He’s never shown this side of him to you. Whatever he shared with you was always with his brand of humor and sarcasm. You suspected that he never showed it to anyone. You appreciated how difficult this was for him to open up to you. Your hands ran soothingly along his arms, a silent encouragement for him to continue.

“I was going to do something that I would have regretted. I was going to do something that would have destroyed me completely. All for money. All for the pride of a Thrombey,” he swallowed, pausing for a moment to steady himself. He would never be able to fully put into words what you pulled him back from doing. What you stopped him from becoming. “But one thing kept holding me back from going through with it.”

“Me?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, princess,” he gave you a small smile and kissed the tip of your nose. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. I regret them. I didn’t mean a single word. You were the first person I wanted to talk to after I found out about the will. You were the only person I wanted to see. You still are. That’s when I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I love you, you fucking idiot,” he chuckled. “I was fully willing to say to hell with my family and the money. None of what I thought was important before is anymore. Not after you.”

Your hands slid to loop around his neck and tangle themselves in his wet hair, smiling at the thought that just before he came you had the exact same epiphany that he had. What mattered then didn’t matter anymore. Not if you weren’t together. You had changed each other and neither of you even knew it was happening.

“So, Ransom Drysdale, the trust fund playboy.” You laughed as he rolled his eyes at your teasing. “You love me?”

“I just said that!”

“Well I wanna hear it again!”

“God, you’re so high maintenance,” he groaned in mock exhaustion though there was no venom in his tone, only an indulgent smirk on his lips.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you snorted.

“We’re not even married yet and you’re already nagging at me.”

“Excuse me?!”

He crashed his lips to yours, laughing as he kissed you breathless and his stomach fluttering in amusement at how you were smacking his chest in annoyance. Exactly this. He wanted exactly this for the rest of his life.

With you.

“We’re getting married next week. I don’t want any of my family to come. They can all eat shit. We’re eloping.”

“I didn’t say yes, you asshole.”

He scoffed and pinned you with a raised eyebrow. “You’re really an idiot if you think it was ever a choice.”

The laugh faded from your lips as you remembered the journey you needed to make and by the look on his face, he seemed to realize the same thing. He also realized now that the truth of your nature was revealed that it must mean more than just a yearly family trip.

“You have to leave,” he said sadly, suddenly deflated. “When?”

“Tonight. I’m too weak to stay on land for much longer. I need to go back.”

“Then marry me right fucking now. I want to know you’re going to come back,” he swallowed, vulnerability again flashing in his eyes but now coupled with his stubborn firmness. “I need to know you’re coming back to me.”

“How?”

“I don’t give a shit how,” he smirked as he fiddled with his hand, slipping off the signet ring that he always wore on his pinky.

You couldn’t help giggling as he struggled to somehow fasten it on your crown, carefully making sure that his ring was secure and prominent among the many adornments. It was just so ridiculous and yet it made your heart swell with joy and your eyes fill with tears.

“There. We’re married now.”

You beamed at him and from the opposite side of his ring, you broke off a winding piece of gold and fastened it around his pinky. You lifted his hand up to your face, closing your eyes as tears streaked down your cheek to land on the makeshift ring. You closed your hands over it for a moment and when again revealed, Ransom was shocked to see a pearl now attached to it.

“We’re married now. I love you too.”

He crashed his lips to yours, overwhelmed by the love and awe that he was feeling for you. You were his now. It didn’t matter to him if it was real or made up. It just mattered that you were his and he was yours. You would return and when you did, he was going to marry you in every conceivable ceremony there was in this world and yours.

Bless, Bless

This unity once wished

A joining of land and sea

Finally achieved

Not a choice of one or the other

But of both to prosper

You both smiled as you parted, the blessing of the ancients anchoring you in permanence with each other. You knew for sure now that you would return and his parting words made you all the more eager to do so.

“I’ll be here waiting.”

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

[legends-live-in-memories]

Just Some Guy

AYO im back with day 3! i got nothing else to say :)

Maribat Masterlist   AO3   @maribat-bdbwm

Day 1 2

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: 

Marinette went to school hoping for a normal day.

Instead, she meets her father for the second time. Or perhaps, for the first time.

BD!Bruce Wayne Day 3- Identities

without further ado:

Marinette woke up in the morning with a bad feeling. Nothing was really wrong. She woke up before her alarm and she hadn’t tripped getting out of bed. She finished her homework the night before and hadn’t gotten into any fights all week. And yet, a weight sat in her stomach.

Her mother once said— when she was maybe three years old and landed on her feet when she fell out of a tree she wasn’t supposed to have been climbing— that as she grew up her affinity for the miraculous magic would cause these unfamiliar ‘sensations’ throughout her life. It was more precise than intuition but not nearly as sophisticated as precognition. Her teachers had said she was blessed by the ancestors as most guardians develop this skill only after years of training, not as a young toddler like herself. She knew to trust this feeling. Usually, she knew that this feeling meant something was going to hurt her; except, since living in Paris for a year, this feeling tended to mean that something was going to embarrass her at worst or mildly inconvenience her at best. She hoped it was the latter.

Nothing happened during her normal routine of getting ready and her papa had even made an extra nice breakfast for the family. The weather was perfect and everything seemed to be going right. So why did she have this feeling?

The walk to school was equally mundane and Marinette started to feel jittery. She hadn’t tripped on her way so that wasn’t what was going to go wrong either. Her class was a quiet sea of private conversations. Chloé wasn’t even doing anything beyond tapping on her phone. Though, she wasn’t usually as enthusiastic as she was now. Was that what was going to go wrong?

“Marinette!” her teacher had called. Madame Bustier was an eccentric woman, Marinette had learned. She was only their teacher for a few months but she was someone Marinette grew fond of rather quickly. “I’m glad you’re here early, can you do me a small favor?”

“Of course, Madame.” This was nothing out of place either, the feeling still weighed on her.

“I left some copies of some handouts in the staff room upstairs. Do you think you could fetch them for me?” Standing behind her desk, her posture straight and smile so bright, Marinette found no reason to say no. She agreed without hesitation.

The journey to and from the staff room was, again, uneventful and Marinette was just hoping that whatever Bad Thing that was supposed to happen to her would just occur. The fretting alone is enough to send her to an early grave. Checking on the time back in the class, it was only 8:20. She had the entire day left. Great.

The hours ticked by and it was then the lunch hour. Marinette’s nerves had calmed down in the meantime and she was fidgety for a different reason. Today was Friday and that meant her papa was in charge of her training. The thought alone was enough to lift her spirits. She couldn’t wait to see what he had in store today.

If only she could actually make it back to the bakery. Before anyone could actually leave the class, Chloé commanded the attention of everyone, including Madame Bustier, because she had a ‘special announcement.’

The bad feeling had immediately returned and Marinette felt a chill. This was it. This was what her senses had been preparing her for all day. She looked at Chloé and the curl of her lips, pale lip gloss shining as bright as ever, made a pit open in Marinette’s stomach. She had her undivided attention, hanging off of whatever words she was about to say next.

“A very important guest is in Paris and daddy has agreed that we all get to meet him. Bruce Wayne is coming here today! He’s staying at our hotel—of course— and he agreed to come to the school after lunch to speak to us about business and other boring stuff. All because of me. No need to thank me.” her little speech was decorated with self-congratulatory hair flips and pats on her own shoulder. None of it mattered to Marinette, however. Her brain was too busy rebooting. All her trepidation and egg-shell walking… for this? For this person? He was clearly important if not for Chloé saying as such then for the background chatter of her classmates but it all meant nothing to Marinette. Because…

Because…

Who the heck was Bruce Wayne?

Why would some old businessman want to speak to a bunch of twelve year olds? Well, he was staying at the mayor’s hotel, he probably didn’t have much of a say in the matter. Whatever the mayor’s precious daughter wants she gets. Too bad this man got dragged along for the whole ordeal. But that doesn’t explain why this was what set off her nerves. What could possibly happen in meeting this guy? Marinette could only wait until after the lunch hour to figure out.

Her excitement for her papa’s training was overshadowed by her dread. She could barely focus, distracted by her own hyper-aware senses. The trek back to school was slow, Marinette tried to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible, but she was facing her classroom door too quickly for her tastes. The chatter of her classmates beyond the door, Madame Bustier trying to control the noise, and a deep chuckle that cut through the cacophony, did nothing but make Marinette wish to be able to turn back and run home.

Could she call in sick?

Run away only to return on Monday?

No, a voice rang, her father’s voice, in her head. The only way out is through. Those were his words and Marinette wasn’t going to chicken out on meeting some stranger just because her gut feeling was warning her about something. Whatever it was, she’ll face head-on. She’s the daughter of freaking Batman after all.

She took a deep breath, mind made up, and opened the door with more bravado than she actually had.

Too bad she overestimated how much force she actually needed and accidentally slammed the door open. What was once a rowdy classroom was now a silent audience, peering as Marinette made a rather grand entrance. The tall figure standing next to Madame Bustier had the most unnerving gaze. She was transfixed. Mesmerized. She stared at the visitor, tall and broad, with swept back hair and a pair of baby blue eyes. She knew that face. She knew those eyes!

There were only two times she saw eyes that blue; in her own reflection and in the face of her father. Who was Batman. But… also this Bruce Wayne guy? What?

That’s not right. She would have known if her father was in the city and she most definitely would have known if her father was some guy named Bruce Wayne. Right?

At least her bad feeling was gone.

But why was he here? And why was he still staring at her?

“Going to become part of the decoration, Dupain-Cheng?” Chloé’s snark cut into the silence and called her attention away from her maskless father. That was when she noticed that she was still standing in the doorway. With everyone still staring at her.

She scurried to the back of the classroom to her seat in record speed, not meeting anyone’s eye, ignoring any snickering directed at her.

“Well, class now that everyone is here,” Marinette cheeks felt warm at her teacher’s comment, “Allow me to introduce you all to Mr. Bruce Wayne, owner and CEO of Wayne Enterprises.”

Oh, her father was someone rich then.

“Thank you, Madame. I will admit I was surprised that the mayor personally asked me to be here on such short notice but,” that was her father’s voice but it was the gruff tones she had heard when they met. This was airy, and approachable. “But seeing all of you here today, definitely made it worth it.”

It was so weird.

Marinette didn’t pay attention to anything he said during his visit, and after he left, with an indecipherable, lingering look in her direction, she felt like she could breathe again for the first time in forever. Watching the stone cold Batman prance around, engaging with children, was bizarre. She felt like she was watching another person, and she almost thought he was but she knew that face. She’s seen it before, the night they first met, and those eyes, so much like her own, so she knows that this man is her father. No matter how… cheery he acted. But it was over and Marinette’s day could finally go back to normal.

Putting the whole ordeal behind her, her anxieties quelled and the bad feeling having passed, Marinette was left with one question however.

If Batman is Bruce Wayne, then who the heck are his children?  

[helluvascribe]

Ars Goetia Correspondences

1.   Name: King Bael

 Common appearance: Creature with head of a cat, toad and a bearded man

 Powers: Rules 66 legions, can make men go invisible, Connolly states he can bring together friends, spark creativity and instruct people on emotions. He can make a person keep a secret, can cause anxiety

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Yellow/Gold

Element: Fire

Tarot: 2 of Wands

0-10 Aries

  2.  Name: Duke Agares

 Common appearance: Old white man riding a crocodile, hawk in hand

 Powers: Rules 31 legions, teaches languages, makes runaways stand still, causes earthquakes, destroys dignities, Connolly states he helps with wisdom in friendship, help gardens grow and to assist in financial projects

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 3 of Wands

10-20 Aries

   3.  Name: Prince Vassago

 Common appearance: Robed spirit

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, discovers hidden things, tells the past and future, Connolly states he can find out if enemy has cursed the magician, offers friendship advice and is good with negotiations

 Correspondences:

Planet: Jupiter

Color: Blue

Element: Water

Tarot: 4 of Wands

20-30 Aries

   4.  Name: Marquis Samigina/Gamigin

 Common appearance: Horse or donkey

 Powers: Rules over 30 legions, teaches liberal sciences and gives accounts of souls who died in sin

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 5 of Pentacles

0-10 Taurus

   5.  Name: President Marbas

 Common appearance: Appears as a male Lion form but also another form, white blonde hair, silvery eyes, tanned skin, horns

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, master healer and surgeon, charters the dead, helps souls pass on, studies how body and mind decays, enjoys classical music

 Correspondences:

Color: Black, orange, gold

Element: Air

Tarot: 6 of Pentacles

10-20 Taurus

    6.  Name: Duke Valefar

 Common appearance: A Lion with a Donkey’s head

 Powers: Rules 10 legions, gives good familiars, Connolly states he teaches loyalty and manipulation and how to charm others.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 7 of Pentacles

20-30 Taurus

   7.  Name: Marquis Amon

 Common appearance: Wolf with serpent’s tail, vomits flames

 Powers: Rules 40 legions, procures feuds, tells of the past and future, helps stop arguments between friends. Connolly states he helps with finding friends and managing emotions.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Water

Tarot: 8 of Swords

0-10 Gemini

    8.  Name: Duke Barbatos

 Common appearance:

 Powers: Rules over 30 legions, gives understanding of birds and animals, astral shape-shifting. Connolly states he stops wars with magicians and he protects the home

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Fire

Tarot: 9 of Swords

10-20 Gemini

   9.  Name: King Paimon

 Common appearance: Man or Woman riding a camel

 Powers: Rules 200 legions, most obedient to Lucifer, teaches art, music, philosophy and science, gives good familiars

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Gold

Element: Fire

Tarot: 10 of Swords

20-30 Gemini

   10.              Name: President Buer

 Common appearance: Lion with many legs in all directions

 Powers: Rules 50 legions, teaches art and philosophy, knows virtues of herbs, heals distempers and gives good familiars. Connolly states he helps heal the self from addictions and bad behaviors.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Fire

Tarot: 2 of Cups

0-10 Cancer

   11.              Name: Duke Guison

 Common appearance: Strong baboon or man

 Powers: Rules over 40 legions, gives dignity, reconciles friendships, tells past and future, communication with the dead

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 3 of Cups

10-20 Cancer

   12.              Name: Prince Sitri

 Common appearance: Leopard’s head with griffin wings

 Powers: Rules 60 legions, make men and women fall in love, makes them show themselves naked, love and lust spells, seduction rituals

 Correspondences:

Planet: Jupiter/Venus

Color: Blue

Element: Fire/Earth

Tarot: 4 of Cups

20-30 Cancer

   13.              Name: King Beleth

 Common appearance: Rides on a pale horse with trumpets playing before him

 Powers: Rules 85 legions, love spell spirit

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Yellow

Element: Earth

Tarot: 5 of Wands

0-10 Leo

      14.              Name: Marquis Learje

 Common appearance: Archer in green, carries bow and arrow

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, infects wounds, directing goals into reality, Connolly states he helps resolve conflicts

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Violet

Element: Fire

Tarot: 6 of Wands

10-20 Leo

   15.              Name: Duke Eligos

 Common appearance: Knight carrying a lance and a serpent

 Powers: Rules 60 legions, discovers hidden things, knows about war and when soldiers will meet, cause speople to fall in love

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 7 of Wands

20-30 Leo

     16.              Name: Duke Zepar

 Common appearance: Soldier in red armor

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, makes people fall in love

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

8 of Pentacles

0-10 Virgo

   17.              Name: Count/President Botis

 Common appearance: Viper then a man with horns and a sword

 Powers: Rules over 60 legions, reconciles friends, tells past and future, reveals secrets in the mind, Connolly states he can draw new friends

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Water

Tarot: 9 of Pentacles

10-20 Virgo

   18.              Name: Duke Bathin

 Common appearance: Strong man with serpent tail

 Powers: Rules over 30 legions, knows virtues of stone and herbs, can transport people from one place to another

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 10 of Pentacles

20-30 Virgo

   19.              Name: Duke Sallos

 Common appearance: Solider riding a crocodile

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, makes people fall in love

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 2 of Swords

0-10 Libra

    20.              Name: King Purson

 Common appearance: Man with a lion’s face carrying a viper in his hand and riding on a bear with trumpets sounding

 Powers: Rules 22 legions, brings good familiars, answers about the creation of the world, divination spirit and knows natural sciences

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Gold

Element: Earth

Tarot: 3 of Swords

10-20 Libra

   21.              Name: Count/President Marax

 Common appearance: A bull with a man’s face

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, knowledge of astronomy and liberal sciences, knows herbs and precious stones and gives good familiars.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mars

Color: Red

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 4 of Swords

20-30 Libra

   22.              Name: Count/Prince Ipos

 Common appearance: An angel with a lion’s head, a goose’s foot and a hare’s tail. Connolly states he can be invoked for courage and sorting out emotions

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, He knows the past, present and future and makes men witty.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Jupiter

Color: Blue

Element: Water/Air

Tarot: 5 of Cups

0-10 Scorpio

   23.              Name: Duke Aim

 Common appearance: Three-headed man, the first like a serpent, the second like a man and the third like a calf. He rides on a viper, carrying a firebrand in his hand.

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, sets cities on fire, makes men witty and gives true answers on private matters. A spirit of self-development, Connolly states he finds creative solutions for artists, writers and musicians

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Fire

Tarot: 6 of Cups

10-20 Scorpio

   24.              Name: Marquis Naberius (Cerberus)

 Common appearance: Black crane

 Powers: Rules 19 legions, makes men knowledgeable in arts and sciences and rhetoric, restores lost dignities, Connolly states he helps with strength and guidance and helping with courage to stand up for what’s right.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Violet

Element: Air

Tarot: 7 of Cups

20-30 Scorpio

   25.              Name: Count/President Glasya-Labolas

 Common appearance: Dog with Griffin wings

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, teaches art and science, tells of past and future, makes men witty and invisible, expert in bloodshed, murder and war, Connolly states he can be invoked to keep secrets from other

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Fire

Tarot: 8 of Wands

0-10 Sagittarius

  26.              Name: Duke Bune

 Common appearance: Dragon with three heads, one like a dog, one like a gryphon and one like a man

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, causes spirits to gather, makes men wealthy and wise, necromancy demon, imparts wisdom about death

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 9 of Wands

10-20 Sagittarius

   27.              Name: Marquis/Count Ronove

 Common appearance: Monster appearance

 Powers: Rules 19 legions, teaches rhetoric, languages, gives good servants and favor with friends and foes, demon of Knowledge and Wisdom

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air

Tarot: 10 of Wands

20-30 Sagittarius

   28.              Name: Duke Berith

 Common appearance: Soldier in red clothing on a red horse with a golden crown on his head

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, turn metal into gold, knows past, present and future, teach magicians to help themselves

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Fire

2 of Pentacles

0-10 Capricorn

   29.              Name: Duke Astaroth

 Common appearance: Angel riding a Dragon carrying a Viper

 Powers: Rules 40 legions, gives answers on past, present and future, liberal sciences, both an angel and a demon, Connolly states they are a divination demon of friendship and love

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 3 of Pentacles

10-20 Capricorn

    30.              Name: Marquis Forenus

 Common appearance: Sea-monster

 Powers: Rules 29 legions, teaches languages and rhetoric, influences others to favor the magician, Michael Ford states he is a serpentine being of self-awareness

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Violet

Element: Water

Tarot: 4 of Pentacles

20-30 Capricorn

   31.              Name: President Foras

 Common appearance: Strong man

 Powers: Rules over 29 legions,

 Correspondences: Teaches logic, ethics, knows about herbs and stones, can make men long-lived and invisible, problem solver

 Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Earth

Tarot: 5 of Swords

0-10 Aquarius

    32.              Name: King Asmoday

 Common appearance:

 Powers: Rules 72 legions, teaches arithmetic, astronomy, geometry, finds hidden treasure, inspires development of self-will

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Yellow

Element: Air

Tarot: 6 of Swords

10-20 Aquarius

   33.              Name: Prince/President Gaap

 Common appearance: Man going before four mighty kings

 Powers: Rules over 66 legions, steals familiars, carries men from one kingdom to another, causes love or hate, liberal science and philosophy, divination spirit, astral projection

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Air

Tarot: 7 of Swords

20-30 Aquarius

   34.              Name: Count Furfur

 Common appearance: Hart with wings

 Powers: Rules over 26 legions, causes storms love between people, fire scrying, assists or destroys the self

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mars

Color: Red

Element: Fire

Tarot: 8 of Cups

0-10 Pieces

   35.              Name: Marquis Marchosias

 Common appearance: Female wolf with gryphon wings and a snake tail

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, strong fighter, Connolly says Marchosias helps people help themselves

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Violet

Element: Fire

Tarot: 9 of Cups

10-20 Pieces

   36.              Name: Prince Stolas

 Common appearance: Crowned Owl with long legs

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, knows the virtues of astronomy, herbs and precious stones. Connolly states he can help with projects

 Correspondences:

Planet: Jupiter

Color: Blue

Element: Air

Tarot: 10 of Cups

20-30 Pieces

   37.              Name: Marquis Phenex

 Common appearance: A Phoenix who sings sweet songs in a child’s voice

 Powers: Rules 20 legions, hopes to return to Heaven, is a great poet and knows all sciences, also a nature spirit, Connolly states he is good for fire baptisms and creative pathworking

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air/Fire

Tarot: 2 of Wands

0-10 Aries

    38.              Name: Count Halphas

 Common appearance: Stock-dove

 Powers: Rules over 26 legions, build towers with weapons, sends men off to war

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mars

Color: Red

Element: Fire

Tarot: 3 of Wands

10-20 Aries

   39.              Name: President Malphas

 Common appearance: Crow

 Powers: Rules 40 legions, knowledge of enemies’ thoughts, builds towers, gives good familiars, Connolly says he is a ward against psychic attacks

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Air

Tarot: 4 of Wands

20-30 Aries

   40.              Name: Count Raum

 Common appearance: A crowned Raven

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, steals treasures from kings, destroys dignities, spirit of justice, love between friends and foes, takes down enemies

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mars

Color: Red

Element: Fire

Tarot: 5 of Pentacles

0-10 Taurus

   41.              Name: Duke Focalor

 Common appearance: Man with gryphon wings

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, drowns men, overthrows ships

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Water

Tarot: 6 of Pentacles

10-20 Taurus

    42.              Name: Duke Vepar

 Common appearance: Mermaid

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, drowns men, overthrows ships, manages emotions

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Water

Tarot: 7 of Pentacles

20-30 Taurus

   43.              Name: Marquis Sabnock

 Common appearance: Armed soldier with a lion’s head riding a pale horse

 Powers: Rules 50 legions, builds castles and towers and provides weapons, infects wounds, gives good familiars, protects homes

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Fire

Tarot: 8 of Swords

0-10 Gemini

    44.              Name: Marquis Shax

 Common appearance: Stock-dove

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, steals money from kings’ houses, fetches horses, discovers hidden things

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air

Tarot: 9 of Swords

10-20 Gemini

   45.              Name: King/Count Vine

 Common appearance: Lion riding a black horse with viper in hand

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, builds towers, makes seas rough, discovers hidden treasures, tells past and future, Connolly states he knows about magick

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Gold

Element: Water

Tarot: 10 of Swords

Tarot: 20-30 Gemini

    46.              Name: Count Bifrons

 Common appearance: Monster

 Powers: Rules 6 legions, Necromancy demon, moves the dead to different places, lights candles on graves, teaches the value of wood and stones, Connolly states he can help one honor ancestors and accept death

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mars

Color: Red

Element: Earth

Tarot: 2 of Cups

0-10 Cancer

   47.              Name: Duke Vual

 Common appearance: Camel

 Powers: Rules 37 legions, procure the love of women, tells the past and future, favor between friends and foes

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury/Venus

Color: Green

Element: Water

Tarot: 3 of Cups

10-20 Cancer

   48.              Name: President Haggenti

 Common appearance: Bull with gryphon wings

 Powers: Rules 33 legions, turns metal into gold, demon of alchemy and transformation

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 4 of Cups

20-30 Cancer

   49.              Name: Duke Crocell

 Common appearance: Angel

 Powers: Rules 48 legions, warms waters and discovers hot springs, teaches geometry and liberal science

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Water

Tarot: 5 of Wands

0-10 Leo

     50.              Name: Knight Furcas

 Common appearance: Cruel old man with a long beard, horny head, riding a horse with a sharp weapon in his hand.

 Powers: Rules 20 legions, Teaches arts, philosophy, palmistry, astrology, chiromancy, pyromancy, rhetoric and logic.

 Correspondences:

Planet: Saturn

Color: Black

Element: Air

Tarot: 6 of Wands

10-20 Leo

    51.              Name: King Balam

 Common appearance: Three heads, one a bull, one a man and one a ram, he has the tail of a serpent and flaming eyes and rides on a bear, carrying a hawk

 Powers: Rules 40 legions, makes men go invisible and be witty, tells of past and future, Connolly states he can help overcome shyness and keep magick secret

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Gold

Element: Earth

Tarot: 7 of Wands

20-30 Leo

   52.              Name: Duke Alloces

 Common appearance: Soldier riding a horse, he had a red lion face and flaming eyes

 Powers: Rules over 36 legions, teaches astronomy and liberal science, brings familiars, Connolly states he helps with clear thinking, build foundations and helps clay/metal artists

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Fire

Tarot: 8 of Pentacles

0-10 Virgo

   53.              Name: President Caim

 Common appearance: Black bird

 Powers: Rules over 30 legions, helps men understand animals and birds, gives true answers of future events, divination

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Air/Fire

Tarot: 9 of Pentacles

10-20 Virgo

   54.              Name: Duke/Count Murmur

 Common appearance: A warrior riding a griffin with a crown on his head

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, teaches philosophy, allows the dead to answer questions, cleanse area of negativity

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 10 of Pentacles

20-30 Virgo

   55.              Name: Prince Orobas

 Common appearance: Horse

 Powers: Rules 20 legions, gives dignities, tells past and future, tells the creation of the world, connection between the living and the dead, Connolly states he can help change people’s opinions and bindings

 Correspondences:

Planet: Jupiter

Color: Blue

Element: Water

Tarot: 2 of Swords

0-10 Libra

   56.              Name: Duke Gremory

 Common appearance: Woman with crown riding on a camel

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, procures the love of women, tells of things past, present and future, divinatory spirit, finds lost items

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 3 of Swords

10-20 Libra

    57.              Name: President Ose

 Common appearance: Leopard

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, liberal science, change men into any shape

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Air

Tarot: 4 of Swords

20-30 Libra

   58.              Name: President Amy

 Common appearance: Flames

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, knows liberal science, gives familiars, tells of hidden treasure/knowledge, seer demon

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Fire

Tarot: 5 of Cups

0-10 Scorpio

   59.              Name: Marquis Orias

 Common appearance: Lion riding a horse with a serpent’s tail and holds serpents

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, teaches astronomy and astrology, favor of friends and foes, Connolly states he aids in self-transformation

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air

Tarot: 6 of Cups

10-20 Scorpio

   60.              Name: Duke Vapula

 Common appearance: Lion with gryphon wings

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, philosophy, knowledgeable in handcrafts

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Air

Tarot: 7 of Cups

20-30 Scorpio

   61.              Name: King/President Zagan

 Common appearance: Bull with griffin wings

 Powers: Rules 33 legions, Makes men wise and can turn water into wine and vice versa, alchemy demon, Michael Ford says he teaches men how to listen, Connolly says he turns things into their opposites, helps curb addictions

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun/Mercury

Color: Yellow/Orange

Element: Earth

Tarot: 8 of Wands

0-10 Sagittarius

   62.              Name: President Valac

 Common appearance: Child with angel wings riding a two-headed dragon

 Powers: Rules 38 legions, gives true answers of hidden treasures, helps magician discover location of serpents

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mercury

Color: Orange

Element: Earth/Water

Tarot: 9 of Wands

10-20 Sagittarius

  63.              Name: Marquis Andras

 Common appearance: angel with the head of an owl, riding on a black wolf and holding a sword in his hand

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, murderer, sows discord and conflicts, Ford says he is a guide of the dead, teaches astral transformation, Connolly says he helps resolve conflicts by bringing them to a confrontation, helps conceal the truth from others

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air/Fire

Tarot: 10 of Wands

20-30 Sagittarius

    64.              Name: Duke Flauros

 Common appearance: Humanoid leopard with big claws

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, true answers of past, present and future, burns enemies of the magician

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Earth

Tarot: 2 of Pentacles

0-10 Capricorn

   65.              Name: Marquis Andrealphus

 Common appearance: Noisy peacock

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, teaches astronomy, geometry and measurement, transform men into birds, Connolly says he helps seal magic

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air

Tarot: 3 of Pentacles

10-20 Capricorn

   66.              Name: Marquis Kimaris

 Common appearance: Warrior riding a black shadow horse

 Powers: Rules 20 legions, locates lost or hidden treasure, teaches grammar, logic and rhetoric and makes men warriors

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Water/Earth

Tarot: 4 of Pentacles

20-30 Capricorn

   67.              Name: Duke Amdusias

 Common appearance: Unicorn with trumpet sounds

 Powers: Rules 29 legions, music demon, causes trees to bend, good familiars, bring one close to the spirits of nature. Connolly says he is invoked for aid in military strategy and aggressive pursuits

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Air

Tarot: 5 of Swords

0-10 Aquarius

   68.              Name: King Belial

 Common appearance: king created after Lucifer, two angels sitting in a chariot of fire

 Powers: Rules 50 legions, distributes senatorships, favor of friends and foes, demands sexual sacrifice, necromancy, destructive earth force

 Correspondences:

Planet: Sun

Color: Gold

Element: Fire

Tarot: 6 of Swords

10-20 Aquarius

   69.              Name: Marquis Decarabia

 Common appearance: Star in a pentacle

 Powers: Rules 30 legions, knows the virtues of birds and precious stones, can make birds fly and sing for the magician, Connolly says he uncovers deceptions and helps free oneself of struggles of the ego

 Correspondences:

Planet: Moon

Color: Purple

Element: Air

Tarot: 7 of Swords

20-30 Aquarius

    70.              Name: Prince Seere

 Common appearance: Man riding on a winged horse

 Powers: Rules 26 legions, bring abundance of things, reveals thievery and hidden treasures, can carry things to other locations

 Correspondences:

Planet: Jupiter

Color: Blue

Element: Air

Tarot: 8 of Cups

0-10 pieces

   71.              Name: Duke Dantalion

 Common appearance: Being with many faces and a book in his hand

 Powers: Rules 36 legions, teaches art and science, causes people to fall in love and gives visions, understand show human thinking works, Connolly says he helps with relating to others emotionally

 Correspondences:

Planet: Venus

Color: Green

Element: Water

Tarot: 9 of Cups

10-20 Pieces

   72.              Name: Count Andromalius

 Common appearance: Man holding a serpent in his hand

 Powers: Rules over 36 legions, brings back thieves and stolen items, protection against thieves

 Correspondences:

Planet: Mars

Color: Red

Element: Fire

Tarot: 10 of Cups

20-30 Pieces

[stiltonbasket]

Nielan fathers day prompt! Sorry if its late, but how about finding out they're going to be parents on Fathers Day? (mpreg, adoption, surrogacy, your choice).

anon: the first fathers' day after jingyi is born, modern lxc and nmj both set up a present for each other "from Jingyi." It's very cute. Baby Jingyi magnanimously chews on his foot and accepts giving two presents and meals.

this is for the art thief au, so lxc is trans here!

(ao3 link)

----

What should I give Xichen for Father’s day?

Nie Mingjue has been puzzling over gift ideas for the past two weeks, with no luck whatsoever. Jingyi is still too small to make them gifts, so he and Xichen use the occasion to exchange presents with each other and label them with their little boy’s name; Xichen probably picked out his gifts already, since he knows Nie Mingjue’s tastes like the back of his hand, but Mingjue keeps flipping through mail-order catalogues and crossing off their entire inventory as he goes.

“I have present,” Jingyi insists, as Nie Mingjue carries him down yet another aisle of their local department store. “A-Die, look!”

Mingjue looks. A-Yi is holding a six-pack of orange bath sponges, since Xichen mentioned that they needed some more earlier that morning.

“That’s not a Father’s Day gift, A-Bao,” Mingjue chides, kissing Jingyi’s forehead. “Last year, I gave your Ba a brooch with his initials on it, remember? It has to be pretty.”

Jingyi wrinkles his tiny nose. “Starfish?”

“Mm, the starfish brooch.” Lan Xichen has an impressive collection of jewelry, with most of it coming from gifts Nie Mingjue gave him over the course of their fifteen years together; and nearly all of the pieces are sea-themed to go with his husband’s wardrobe and his clear, moon-white skin.

Perhaps he could buy pearls, this time?

“A-Yi,” he says slowly, “what do you think about going to the discount shop across town?”

A-Yi is happy enough to go wherever his father goes, so Nie Mingjue drives to the discount store--full of discarded, overstocked, and secondhand merchandise from all over the city--and digs through the bins of jewelry until he finds an antique bracelet, strung with pearls carved into the shapes of starfish and clam shells. Jingyi nearly loses his little mind at the sight of it, and he squeals at the top of his lungs while Mingjue pays for the bracelet and bundles him back to the car.

“I know them,” he declares, when Mingjue gives him the bracelet to play with on the way home. “Diedie, it’s a clam!”

Mingjue glances up at his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Can you count how many clams there are?”

Jingyi flings himself headlong into the task, counting twelve starfish and eleven clams, and then he peruses the Learning Reader books Xichen keeps in the back seat until Mingjue carries him into the house.

His husband runs to meet them at the door, and it is this, not the driveway or their well-worn doorstep, that means Nie Mingjue has finally come home.

______

To Nie Mingjue, stepping into his woodworking studio feels like stepping into another world.

It isn't that the studio looks very different from the rest of the house--in fact, Nie Mingjue had a tiny nursery built into the north corner, since he set the studio up with A-Yi’s needs in mind--but Mingjue feels different here, more sure of himself, and aware of his own thoughts and hopes as he scarcely is anywhere else. He had only to enter, and he was changed: his hands steadier, his heartbeat slower, and his mind somewhere distant and immediate all at once. It is here that he pays homage to his heart, his muse, and the dearest friend he has ever had, or ever will. It is here that he pours pieces of his love for his husband into everything he touches, and everything he makes, and emerges with pieces of polished art like testaments to the husband he vowed his life to. 

“That isn’t a metaphor,” Nie Mingjue said once, when Huaisang asked what he meant. Mingjue has carved everything from furniture to lamps into shapes reminiscent of his husband’s lips, perfected the stems of wooden sunflowers to match the sweet arch of Lan Xichen’s neck, and burnished every last one of his creations until they shone like sunlight falling on the apples of his husband’s cheeks. He etches A-Huan’s expressions into the faces of statues intended for the foyers of upscale hotels, and into a thousand quarter and sixth-scale figures commissioned by model collectors, since he rarely has any excuse to sculpt his husband directly. But today he does, so he sits down at his bench and gets to work with a block of oak and his favorite gouge and chisel.

He will love this, Nie Mingjue thinks, as two bowed heads and a pair of smiles take shape under his hands. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever made.

He glances over his shoulder at Jingyi, fast asleep in the glass-walled nursery with his feet up in the air, and turns back to the sculpture with his heart quivering in his chest.

______

The sculpture takes about a fortnight to complete, almost exactly the span of time between the day Nie Mingjue begins working on it and the holiday it was intended for. Nie Mingjue wakes up early on Father’s day, leaving Xichen asleep behind him, and bundles A-Yi out of bed and down into the studio. They wrap the sculpture up together in Jingyi’s favorite gift wrap, and then Nie Mingjue carries him to the kitchen just in time to catch his husband as he comes stumbling down the stairs.

“Good morning, love” Lan Xichen sighs, burrowing into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “What should we have for breakfast?”

“Eggs?”

For some reason, Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“Noodles, then?”

This suggestion is met by a drowsy nod, so Mingjue goes to the fridge to dig out  a few ingredients while Lan Xichen hops onto one of the bar stools with Jingyi in his lap. He chops the scallions and garlic for plain noodle soup around their son’s little body, leaving Mingjue to boil noodles in one pot and stock with soy sauce and sugar in another until three blue bowls of yang chun mian are steaming on the counter.

“Smells yummy,” Jingyi yawns, while Xichen spoons fresh green onions into his soup bowl. “Baba, feed A-Yi?”

“He’s forgotten about the presents,” Lan Xichen mouths, as Nie Mingjue tries not to snicker. They eat quickly, slurping down the noodle soup with cups of soy milk on the side, and then Jingyi scrambles to the other side of the room before running back with Mingjue’s wrapped box in his arms.

“Father’s Day gift!” he squeaks, wriggling like a happy worm as Xichen laughs and tries to remove the gift wrap without tearing it; because Jingyi never lets either of them cover gifts with anything but Pingu penguin-printed paper, and he cries if anyone rips it up in front of him.

Mingjue used the weakest tape he could find, so that Xichen could extract the box with the paper left mostly whole. He hands the paper to Jingyi, watching as his husband’s slender fingers close around the base of the sculpture, and then--

“Oh!” Lan Xichen gasps, pulling it all the way out into the light. “A-Jue, I--”

The sculpture depicts him and Jingyi at the beach near their house--in fact, at the same beach where Mingjue and Xichen first met. Mingjue was sitting on a sandy rock, catching his breath after running around behind a hyperactive Nie Huaisang all day, and then he looked out over the foggy water and saw what looked like a water spirit drifting out of the darkness in a rowboat.

He sculpted Xichen seated on that very rock, with his long hair tangling in an invisible gale, and a little heap of shells (the pearls from the old bracelet he found at the discount store) piled up in his lap. Jingyi is standing on the ground at his feet with a wave of seafoam brushing his ankles; and in his hands is a small pearly starfish, offered up to his baba as Lan Huan leans forward to cup A-Yi’s cheek in his palm. Both father and son are smiling, with heart-breaking happiness in A-Huan’s eyes, and sheer pleasure at finding the starfish in Jingyi’s.

Nie Mingjue looks up at his own flesh-and-blood husband, tearing his eyes away from the wooden figure, and finds Lan Xichen sitting there, frozen, with tears rolling down his face as he traces the tiny ridges and dimples of stone and sand and water.

“It’s beautiful,” he chokes, rounding the corner of the table to throw his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “It’s the most precious thing you’ve ever made, sweetheart.”

“The most precious thing I helped make is over there,” Nie Mingjue teases, tilting his head at A-Yi. “But I think this one comes pretty close.”

Xichen opens his mouth, and then closes it again; but Jingyi interrupts before he can say anything else, impatient to present his diedie’s gift from his baba.

“Now this one!” he shouts, diving into Xichen’s pocket for a small present in a wooden box, labeled with Jingyi’s name just like Nie Mingjue’s gift was. He all but shoves it into Mingjue’s hands, leaping up and down on the spot while he snaps the lid open--and then he screeches with delight as Nie Mingjue goes crashing to the floor, staring at the contents of the tiny box until his eyes blur over.

He had expected some kind of memento or trinket, like he usually gives to Xichen. But the box was so light, impossibly light--and it holds a pair of hand-knitted baby socks, set neatly on top of a black and white photograph with his husband’s name printed in the upper left corner.

Nie Mingjue has already been a father, already accompanied his husband through the endless doctors’ visits and checkups that came before Jingyi was born. He saved all of Jingyi’s ultrasound pictures, even the ones where A-Yi looked like a chubby white bean on the sonogram, and he stared at every photograph for so long that reading them comes as second nature to him.

"A-Huan,” he says, after a long pause. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming this.”

“You’re not,” Lan Xichen laughs, wiping Mingjue’s face. “I had my first doctor’s visit last week when you and A-Sang took Jingyi to the park. And the clinic ran a few blood tests just in case, so I already know it’s going to be a girl.”

“And you’re okay? Both of you?”

“Very okay, darling. I haven’t even had any morning sickness yet, and the baby’s perfectly healthy.”

Nie Mingjue only cries harder, at that; but Xichen is crying too, clasped in his arms while A-Yi climbs all over them, so perhaps it doesn’t really matter.

All in all, this is the sweetest father’s day he has ever had.

[wesimpforxiao]

Inception: Chapter 1

Author’s Note:  Welcome everyone to my Childe x Reader fanfiction! Decided to post the first (and only so far) chapter since I’m happy with it.  Hope you enjoy this sneak peek!!!

Now where did Mr. Zhongli run off to?  Wherever you'd end up, you'd miss the man by a hair.  Running errands for Hu Tao was practically the equivalent to a wild goose chase.  "Wait a second!"  A sudden realization stopped you in your tracks, and a few customers that were buying kites held startled expressions from your yelp.  "She's pranking me again, isn't she?!"

Zhongli was inspecting noticulous jade samples behind you when he heard a female voice yell to no one in particular.  He turned to see you, completely deflated for reasons unknown to him.  Shouldn't you be at the parlor overseeing your duties in the presence of Hu Tao?  What were you doing out here?  "What seems to be the matter, Reed?"

"ZHONGLI!"  Another yelp, and this time the customers nearby became more annoyed.  You spun on your heel and meet your coworker's gaze.  "I've been looking everywhere for you! Um, Hu Tao wanted me to give you these," you promptly handed a small stack of slightly crumpled documents to him.  "She said they were really important...?"

"Let me see..." Golden eyes turned their attention to the script with the utmost focus before he heaved a tiresome sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Is...something the matter?"  You could've sworn everything was in order...maybe it was possible that in your rush to find him, you had lost a paper or two without noticing?

"What is it exactly that Hu Tao instructed you to do?"  His voice held a tinge of exhaustion, but it went unnoticed by you.

"She just told me to find you and give you the documents, and that you'd know what to do with them.  And she also told me not to look at them.  Why?"

Another sigh, and the documents were handed back to you.  "I apologize, but it appears that you've fallen victim to her...childish antics yet again."  

He was right.  The documents were nothing more than a bunch of gibberish and what looked like to be a horrible attempt to draw Zhongli on one of the papers next to one scribble that was labelled 'doodoo.'  "You've got to be joking."  The scowl on your face was enough to get Zhongli to clear his throat in an effort to dissuade you from your anger.  You were an incredibly nice and patient person, but Zhongli's seen you angry once before.  It was not something he'd like to see again, and with every passing prank, you got closer and closer to snapping at your boss.

"My apologies," he sympathized.  He couldn't exactly keep up with the parlor director's childish ways either, after all.

That was three hours of my day.  You crumpled the papers in your hands before tossing them in the trash.  "Sorry to bother you Zhongli, I'll be heading back to the parlor now."

You took the long way back to the funeral parlor, making a point to walk across the docs that shouldered the sea.  It was well-deserved, you thought, since Hu Tao was constantly testing your patience and you had yet to snap.  If she really needed you today, she wouldn't have sent you on a needless hunt to deliver unnecessary documents.  So what if you showed up a little late now? It was her doing!

The docks were quiet with the occasional pigeons and seagulls cooing as they searched for their next meal--or their next pooping target.  A few pigeons scattered into the wind once you reached a railing that overlooked one of the merchant ships.  

It had been quite some time since your mother brought you across the sea to escape the influences of the Fatui in Snezhnaya--it had to be at least a decade by now, actually.  The Fatui that were stationed near your hometown were a reckless, malicious bunch, and weren't even kind to their own people despite their cohort existing to serve the people.

'To serve the people' was more like 'to serve the Tsaritsa.'  Neglect against her own people soon became a mutual feeling in your town.  She let her Fatui rats run about with no punishment for falling out of line...the audacity! A god is supposed to protect and nurture their people, not toss them aside or save them to be used.

The glimmering of the ocean below the deck only briefly dragged out out of your memories before you fell into them much like a wave washes over the beach.

You still remembered the day when your best friend went missing, and when he finally turned up ragged and dirty a few days later.  He never spoke of what happened, but it wouldn't surprise you if it had anything to do with the agents in your town.  He changed from a hesitant boy to a rambunctious, feisty kid--and the arrogance was insanely annoying.  But just as you tried to get closer to him, your mom decided his mysterious circumstances were what she needed to get herself and you out of Snezhnaya.

"I don't know what happened to you, Ajax, but I hope you're okay."

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

Today's such a beautiful day!  You stretched your arms with content to get the aches of walking all morning out of your shoulders.  Slouching was a horrible habit of yours.  But no matter, it was time to celebrate! Hu Tao finally cut you loose from her list of unfortunate victims of her shenanigans, instead setting her sights on some exorcist that went by the name 'Chongyun.'  Since he wasn't related to the parlor's services--at least, not that you were aware--you didn't know him personally.

That poor soul has no idea what's coming to him, you think as you absently scan the papers in your hands that the parlor director had given you to give to Zhongli before the day's end--you had learned your lesson from last time, and inspected each stack she'd give you.  But as bad as I feel for him, I can't complain since I'm finally scot-free of her.

You made your way toward Liuli Pavilion, where Zhongli had informed you earlier this morning that he'd be conducting a meeting with one of the parlor's biggest funders.  There he is now! And...sitting alone?

"Mr. Zhongli?"  Your quiet interruption shifted his attention from the vivid storytelling of the storyteller to you.  "Did you have your meeting yet?"

"No, he should be arriving shortly," the consultant answered and placed his teacup down.  "What did you need me for?"

"Hu Tao sent me on another errand, er, a valid one this time.  I guess one of our customers was wondering what recommendations you had regarding these?"  A quick hand-off of the documents pertaining the names of precious stones, and Zhongli shut out the story of the ventures of Rex Lapis and his former companion, Azhdaha.

Your eyes left Zhongli for a moment and watched the storyteller's movements.  I've heard this one before.  Azhdaha was reprimanded for turning against humanity, wasn't he?  I wonder what that was like for our god.  To be betrayed by a close friend-

"I see.  Noticulous jade would be the best option considering it's vibrant purple tones, but the beauty of cor lapis when significantly refined to its utmost potential is a valid approach for the ceremony as well.  Why don't we purchase both?  You and I can inspect the nearby stores tomorrow morning."

Honestly, I don't know why I bother asking if his answer is always 'We'll take them all,' your lips twitched from restraining a laugh and you returned your sights on the consultant.  "Alright, let's do that."

"Mr. Zhongli! It's great to see you," an unfamiliar man approached the table with a friendly smile.  "I hope I didn't keep you waiting long."  The confidence that radiated from his stride was enough to make you shrivel up on yourself.  That, and the afternoon light that bounced off of his bright gray clothes half-blinded you.

"Not at all.  Please take a seat.  Reed, why don't you join us?"  Zhongli was aware of your intense opinions of the Fatui, but then again, who in Liyue didn't have a problem with the organization at the moment? Especially after their most recent incident with Osial...and the issue himself was sitting right across the table.  Perhaps meeting such a dangerous individual would dissuade you from pursuing that nighttime hobby of yours...

"Oh, I don't want to intrude.  Isn't this a private meeting?"

"I don't mind," said the red-headed stranger.

Zhongli gestured toward the third chair at the table, and you hesitantly obeyed.  A few minutes couldn't hurt.  You used the moment to get you situated and check out the guy to your left.  He didn't seem familiar, but he had this air about him that was...distinct, if that made any sense.  Familiar yet unfamiliar.  For someone being labelled as one of the most prominent sponsors of the funeral parlor, he didn't button his jacket properly, and a portion of his abdomen was visible while a hydro vision sat comfortably attached to his beltloop.  Or perhaps that was the way the jacket was designed?

Why am I even contemplating this? You peeled your eyes away from his torso in a hurry, and they settled on your hands in your lap.  Way to make a first impression.

"Reed, I would like to introduce you to Ma-"

"Ajax!"  Childe's voice overtook Zhongli's introduction.  "I go by Ajax, it's nice to meet you."  He held out a gloved hand for you to shake.  He didn't think it would be possible to ever see you again, not after your mom took you across the sea, so he spat out a lie without thinking.  Then again, even as a child you hated the Fatui--rightfully so-- so it wouldn't have been a good idea to introduce himself as the very harbinger that almost drowned Liyue.  Childe thought he had recognized you by your hair and the way you walked, but it was so long ago, and the memory of you had long since faded into a blurry image.  But 'Reed'...It couldn't be some coincidence that he met you here.

And by your reaction, he could say his intuition served him right.  "A-Ajax?"  You sat up taller than before, not quite comprehending the situation at first.  The name, the face, those blue eyes--it had to be him.  "Ajax from Snezhnaya?"

"I would hope I'm the only Ajax you know."  Childe shot you a friendly smile, but some smidge of jealousy lie in the depths of his otherwise vacant gaze. Perhaps it could even be considered threatening, or possessive.  He was the only Ajax you knew, right?

"Oh thank the archons you're alright," you released the breath you didn't know you were holding in.  It was all you managed to get out before remembering that a certain party was sitting to your right.  "O-Oh! Zhongli! We knew each other before I emigrated to Liyue-"

"Childhood friends," the harbinger grinned slightly as he met the consultant's confused yet stern gaze.  Something deadly flashed in his eyes, daring Zhongli to speak up and correct his own introduction.

Zhongli wasn't anywhere near afraid or intimidated by Childe, but despite this he did not reveal Childe's true identity.  Perhaps there was a reason the harbinger was posing as his younger self, like he was protecting the image of the perfect older brother for you just as he did with Teucer.

That, and Zhongli had vowed not to meddle in these types of matters just as he neglected to tell Childe he was the geo archon.  It was not his business if Childe chose to deceive you just as he deceived Childe, but if the harbinger posed a threat to you or anyone in Liyue again...Let's just say the passive Zhongli would put his foot down.

"I see," said Zhongli with a thoughtful gaze as he picked up his half-full cup of tea.  "May I inquire as how you two met?"

"Well," you leaned back in your seat and stared at one of the passing clouds as you attempted to recollect old memories.  "I don't remember exactly, but we ran into each other at one of the local markets that stood between our hometowns.  You should've seen him back then Zhongli, he was a nervous reck!"

Childe visibly grimaced at your bluntness, but Zhongli let out a low chuckle.  "Is that so?"  This earned a glare from the harbinger.

"Yes!  He was always second-guessing himself.  I was always the one wearing the pants in the friendship whenever we got to see each other!  And then..."  Your expression darkened as you remembered his disappearance, and his concerning change of attitude when he returned.  But just as quickly as the distasteful memory showed on your face, it was tossed away with a shake of the head.  "You know, there was one time where he had gotten in trouble with one of the local fisherman because he--"

"Now, now!"  Childe interrupted with a slightly aggressive--no, embarrassed--tone.  "I don't think Mr. Zhongli would be interested in--"

"On the contrary, I would be more than delighted to hear of Ajax's childhood stories," Zhongli sipped away at his tea, making a point to emphasize the new name while staring straight Childe.

"Aw, you embarrassed?"  Childe wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face for noticing.  He thought he was great at hiding his emotions, but with your surprise appearance, he was a bit more than caught off guard.  You covered your mouth and leaned toward Zhongli while whispering, "I'll tell you later, promise!"

Childe let out something of a strangled chuckle that made the corner of Zhongli's lips twitch upward.  "So, what have you been up to all this time?"

"Well, I've been working at the funeral parlor with Zhongli for the past year or so," you leaned back with a thoughtful gaze.  "I live by myself now; mom died a few years ago.  Oh, I've been training since I got here, too.  You can't trust the Fatui anywhere in Teyvat.  That, and anyone that roams around late at night.  Better safe than sorry."

"So you fight?"  Childe's eyes lit up like a fire was lit, and you smile turned into a frown.

"Don't tell me you're still..."  But with his slightly oblivious tilt of the head, you couldn't bring yourself to bring up that portion of your history.  Not yet.  "If need be, yes."  The best option was to change the subject, especially to spare Zhongli of what could possibly turn into an argument.  "How did you find yourself in Liyue?"

"I..."  A glance was sent briefly in Zhongli's direction, but he purposely ignored it.  "I'm a toy seller these days."

"Augh--"  A sputtered cough came from Zhongli, and he dabbed at his lips with a handkerchief.  "Ahem...Apologies, it appears I choked on a bit of tea."

After an awkward laugh escaped Childe, you turned back to him.  "A toy seller?  You?"  Was it relief you felt, or a feeling of on-edge?  Perhaps it'd be better if he turned out nice enough to become a toy seller, but with the way you two left things in Snezhnaya, you'd thought it be more likely that he'd end up arrested.  Or join the Fatui.  Or just anything involving violence.  Not sure of what to make of his words, you snapped to Zhongli.  "Wait, I thought you had a meeting with one of the benefactors of the funeral parlor?  Why would a toy seller be involved with us?"

"Yes, I've wondered that myself," Zhongli set his empty teacup aside and faced Childe directly to bait him.  "You've never told me the story.  How did you find yourself involved with the parlor, Ajax?"

The hint of a smirk on the consultant's lips made the harbinger's blood boil even though he managed to keep his façade of a smile plastered on his face.  "Well, I wouldn't want to bore you with the details, it's an uninteresting story!"

"Tell me," you begged, eyes sparkling in anticipation.  "It might not be boring to us!"

"Yes, do tell," Zhongli encouraged.

You're enjoying this too much, Mr. Zhongli.  Childe did his best to hide his annoyance under his signature grin.

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

The sigh that escaped the harbinger once you left to finish your duties at the parlor prompted Zhongli to raise a brow at him.  "Shut up," Childe muttered without sparing a glance his way.  He knew you were hateful of the Fatui; that's most likely why he lied without a second thought, but as to why he'd bother doing so since you weren't close anymore was unknown.

At least, to Childe it was.  Zhongli had already figured it out by the lengthy conversation of Childe's extensive toy seller lie.  "You two were more than 'close' back in Snezhnaya, were you not?"  

"Don't overthink it Zhongli, we were only friends."

"And yet you wear your Harbinger status proudly on your sleeve."

"What're you implying?"  Childe, growing impatient and bored of the conversation, shifted in his seat.  You had left as their meals were served, so to his utmost horror, he now realized he was given chopsticks to use for his dish.  

"You also don't like deceiving others unlike your fellow harbingers."

A disgusted scoff left his lips as he lifted his chopsticks.  "...You think I, Tartaglia, am in love with a childhood friend?  My my my, Mr. Zhongli, it seems you've finally lost your marbles after living six thousand years. Perhaps living among humans has taken a toll on your wisdom."

"There are several reasons for which a person would lie."  Zhongli lowered his voice as the storyteller finished his monologue.  "The only one that would make sense after observing you for so long would be infatuation."

Childe had tuned him out by now, concentrating with furrowed brows on holding his dumplings correctly in-between his chopsticks.  But they were too heavy, what with his hand shaking the utensils, and they fell back on the plate with a wet plop.  Curse these stupid-  Childe nearly threw them at the building to his left, but restrained himself before he could lose to his frustrations.  Instead he used one chopstick to stab the dumpling and in an exasperated huff, shoved it into his mouth.

"So, what is the real reason you're back in Liyue?"  Zhongli set his third cup of tea aside after watching the pitiful struggle before him.  "It had sounded like you'd be in Snezhnaya for quite some time before returning, yet here you are only months after Osial."

"Oh," Childe sat up, only now remembering that what he had told you earlier was a drastic lie.  "I've been meaning to ask you about the matters I'm dealing with.  The Fatui here are fed-up with some...vigilante that interferes with their work here.  Whoever's at fault is clearly an amateur, but my subordinates here are apparently too incompetent to catch them.  They're stealing important documents from the Northland Bank, setting traps on the roadsides, and even breaking into our apartments to steal the agents' uniforms."

Zhongli cradled his chin in his hand while in deep thought.  He's heard of such a person; they often came to the parlor in the early morning hours to avoid getting caught since their living quarters were on the opposite side of town--he caught them more than once, out of breath, and dressed in black.

"--Basically the men are agitated at this point and threatening to leave their posts, and everyone's on edge because of another matter that may be related.  A few of our agents have gone missing with no trace, so I am here to locate them.  Whoever this vigilante is might know something; both occurrences started approximately three months ago."  Childe grabbed his last dumpling and ate it before leaning back in his seat.  "So, given that you are the wisest man in Liyue, I decided to come to you for advice.  Would you happen to know of anyone or anything involved?"

"Yes," Zhongli hummed, eyes downcast and settled on his folded hands.  "It's possible I hold information valuable to your search."

Childe's pupils lit up in delight.  "Oh?  Do enlighten me."

"But first, the vigilante is not related to your missing men," he took another sip of tea, lost in thought.  "And they are more or less an amateur seeking to disrupt Fatui operations, but they don't usually harm your agents--"

"That's inaccurate to say, Zhongli.  Last week three of my guys came back with broken noses or fractured arms."

--that I know of."  A pointed glare just made the harbinger lean forward against the table.

"You know who I'm searching for."

"Perhaps."

"Then spill."

"Am I really obligated to tell you based on your earlier behavior?"

"Mr. Zhongli, this person poses a serious threat to the health of my men, and potentially their lives.  Do you not care that human lives are at stake because of this...this...killer?"

Says the man who tried to drown my country.  "As usual, you are making brash assumptions.  They are not a killer, and they are not dangerous unless backed into a corner."

Childe was growing sick of beating around the bush, so he deadpanned.  "Zhongli."

The former archon let out a low sigh before meeting his gaze.  "As long as you remember what I just said, then I suppose I'll let you know.  The person you're searching for is the same person you lied to at this table."

[nejibaby]

Time

Pairing: Sanji x F!Reader

Summary: Time is such an essential variable for a pirate cook like you. But outside cooking, you try your best not pay attention to it, most especially when it comes to the past. And yet because of the unpredictability of the Grand Line, you’ve come across someone from your past who you desperately wanted to forget. This incident makes you realize that despite how much time passes, sometimes feelings don’t really change.

Song reference/inspiration: Don’t You by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: It’s done! It’s finally done! I had this idea for quite some time now and I’m finally done with it. Imagine my relief. 😌 I liked how this turned out! But please let me know your thoughts about it… 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

There are a lot of oddities in the Grand Line. Among the concepts that are too complex to be explained are the drastic changes in the weather, the crazy magnetic fields of islands, and devil fruit powers.

What doesn’t change is the concept of time. In all technicality, time is what the clock reads. And regardless of your location inside or outside the Grand Line, it’s set on stone. There’s sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, twenty four hours in a day, seven days in a week, and so on. It’s a fact that’s definitive, irrefutable, and beyond dispute.

And as a cook of the Kid Pirates, time is one of the essential variables, alongside temperature, in bringing dishes to life. That much you learned and mastered from the years you’ve been observing chefs in a certain restaurant in East Blue before you ran away to the South.

However, outside the kitchen — or to be more precise, outside cooking — you don’t pay too much attention to the time and dates, similar to your Captain, Kid.

You and your Captain would need Killer to inform you about preparing banquets and feasts for birthday celebrations for crew members, or to remind you of other important dates.

While you’re completely capable of keeping track of time, you didn’t want to and wouldn’t bother. What’s the point, really? It’s just that you didn’t want to be reminded of just how long since you ran away from the chefs who took you under their wing. You didn’t want to be reminded of just how long since you’ve last seen a certain curly-browed cook who you fell in love with but unfortunately got turned down from.

You’re entirely fine by saying it’s been a while since you’ve last seen those people. There isn’t any need to label a precise quantity of time since that moment in your life. It’s all in the past, and you have long learned to keep yourself busy so as not to be reminded of them in any way.

After all, remembering them always leads to pangs straight to your heart, and as a member of the Kid Pirates, it’s highly discouraged to wear your heart on your sleeve and show vulnerabilities like that.

Since leaving Baratie, you moved along with your life. You worked at a local restaurant in South Blue and somehow ended up meeting Kid and Killer. With Eustass Kid being impressed with your skills in the kitchen and the air of authority you exude while working, he demanded you join their crew. And in all honesty, it didn’t take too much convincing on their part as you too wanted to travel the world, and perhaps find All Blue, a dream you shared with the man you fell in love with.

Pledging loyalty to Eustass Kid is one of the decisions you could never regret. Ever since joining the crew, they have become masters of being subtle in their ways of showing they all care for you. And it’s only evident by the way they’re all overprotective of you (even if you’ve pretty much mastered self defense and the art of using a gun) simply because among the group of brutes, you looked like a lone flower — splendid, precious, and delicate. And due to that, traveling the seas with the Kid Pirates is particularly enjoyable for you; dangerous, sure, but enjoyable nonetheless.

On account of the unpredictability of the Grand Line; more precisely the New World, you have learned to always be ready to face anything. But maybe you aren’t as prepared as you thought you are.

Because somehow, in between gathering food supplies alone for the crew and fighting against a group of Marines who found you, you came face to face with the cook you desperately wanted to forget.

And to make matters much worse, when you quite literally bumped into him, you’ve already been shot twice by the Marines, leading you to lose your consciousness right in his arms.

For some reason, with how huge the Grand Line is, you have never taken into consideration the probability of meeting him once again. And this unpreparedness unsettles you right away. So when you wake up in the Straw Hats’ sailing ship, all bandaged up and weak from the loss of blood, you’re quick to show hostility as a defense mechanism.

But that facade doesn’t last long, your mask easily slipping after a day with the crew, showing your naturally gentle and sweet side to everyone except to a certain man named Sanji. Ultimately, it’s quite impossible for you to remain hostile and aggressive in the presence of such nice and hospitable characters, especially when they kindly offered to drop you off to the next island and allowed you to contact Kid to let him know about your predicament.

You do, however, isolate yourself from the Straw Hats as much as possible. The only time you allow yourself to be in everyone’s presence is during meal times. As a chef, you know well enough that food is at its best when served right away and eaten in the presence of company.

But you aren’t dumb. You know the dishes served by Sanji aren't purely coincidental. With just one look at the table, you could easily recognize all of your favorite meals — meals that reminded you of the days when you had fallen in love with him. It’s blatantly obvious that some of the foods on the table are made especially for you.

This is where your reservations come in. After all, the reason why your favorite foods were your favorites was because they’re what Sanji used to cook when you’re upset. And because of your feelings for him, the food would always make your heart full and happy. And to be honest, you didn’t want to remember that feeling.

Moreover, you didn’t want to give Sanji the impression that everything’s fine between the two of you. You also didn’t want him to think that you’ve forgiven him for turning you down, and proceeding to step on your heart by letting you watch him flirt with other girls.

If you were any other person, you probably wouldn’t even touch the meals he made to prove these points. But you’re a cook, and it’s against your morals to let food come to waste. The most you can do so as not to give Sanji the upper hand is to stop yourself from eating as much as you usually would, regardless of how delicious the food is.

You can tell it’s working from the way Sanji’s lips are slightly downturned as he watches you only take a nibble of your favorites while consuming the other meals that are meant for the other crew members. This goes unnoticed by the others though; they’re too enamored with the new variety of dishes on the table to even pay attention.

This goes on for a few meal times, but you have to admit that despite only taking a few bites of the dishes you used to love, they’re still capable of bringing back the memories of your past with Sanji, maybe not in full force, but it’s enough to disconcert you.

On your third day with the Straw Hats, after seeing him fawn over Nami and Robin, the tension between you and Sanji becomes a little too overwhelming for you to the point where you feel the need to hide in the crow’s nest to calm yourself down.

When you get there, you’re surprised yet relieved that Zoro isn’t there. You instantly take a seat facing the window. You relish the silence. But it’s only momentary, broken by the sound of someone knocking on the door.

Rude as it may be, you don’t acknowledge the person. Whoever it is still enters the room anyway.

“Y/N-chan, can we talk?”

You hate the way your heart starts wildly pounding again just by the mere sound of Sanji’s voice.

“I thought we’ve established the fact that I don’t want to talk to you,” you respond coldly.

This doesn’t discourage Sanji though. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But will you please listen to me?”

You frown, but you remain silent. Sometimes, most especially at times like this, you wish you could hate him. But that’s just something you can’t do no matter how hard you try.

He takes your silence as a good sign, so he sits himself beside you.

You aren’t looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you. This lasts for a few minutes, Sanji just gazing at you without uttering a word.

You didn’t mean to count, but by the second minute of silence, you snap. “What? I thought you wanted to tell me something? Why aren’t you talking?”

He looks away and clears his throat. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just… it’s been five years since I last saw you.”

His statement takes you by surprise. Has it already been five years since you left Baratie? And more importantly, was Sanji keeping count?

For whatever reason, Sanji chuckles. He faces you once again and smiles, “It’s been five years but you still look as gorgeous and radiant as ever.”

As always, Sanji has a way with his words. The compliment makes your heart beat impossibly faster. But you know you shouldn’t fall for his words. “Sanji, don’t. Let’s not go there,” you say with a sigh.

He visibly deflates at your response. And it makes you want to take back what you’ve just said. “What have you been up to?” He tries asking, his voice low enough you almost don’t hear him, as if this conversation hurts him just as much as it pains you.

You didn’t really plan on responding. The agreement was to let Sanji do the talking and you do the listening, but you can see his sad expression in the corner of your eye and it tugs your heartstrings a little bit so you reply, “I’m a pirate now.”

“You are?” He perks up upon hearing you responding. “Who’s your captain?”

You finally face him, wanting to see his reaction. “Eustass Kid.”

His face instantly contorts into displeasure. “Kid?” He asks once again. When you nod your head, there’s a different look on his face, almost like he’s angry or he’s annoyed. “Why Kid? Don’t tell me he forced you to do it?! That bas—”

But before he could even finish his sentence, you pull out your gun and point it at his head.

He’s taken aback by your speed and the look of determination in your eyes.

“Watch your words, Sanji.” You cock your gun. “Just because we’re on speaking terms doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you. You can call me bad names if you want, break my heart like you did, but if you say one more bad thing about my captain, I won’t hesitate on putting a bullet through your head,” you threaten.

Sanji gulps, raises his hands in surrender, and nods his head.

Yet you pull the trigger anyway. Sanji could only close his eyes once he sees your finger move.

But there’s no impact at all. When he tentatively opens his eyes, he sees you putting away your gun in its previous location.

You’re well aware that you have no ammunition left, having used them all up when you fought the Marines, but sometimes even an unloaded gun is enough to intimidate and scare someone into submission, and to get your point across.

Silence envelopes the crow’s nest after that incident. Sanji isn’t afraid of you per se, he’s just a little bit surprised with the change in your attitude.

For a moment the thought of you having feelings for Kid passes through his mind, and he internally gets upset with the thought. In fact, he hates it but he doesn’t let it dissuade him from trying to make amends with you.

He allows you to have a couple more minutes of silence. But when he has decided that it’s time for him to talk, the first thing he blurts out is, “I missed you a lot when you left.”

His confession breaks something in you. You didn’t like the way you equally liked and hated hearing this from him. “Sanji, don’t…” your voice cracks and your vision blurs. “Don’t smile at me. Don’t ask me how I’ve been. Don’t you say you’ve missed me if you don’t want me. Don’t get my hopes up, because you don’t know how much I love you still. Just don’t…”

“Y/N-chan…” he calls out to you, his hand hesitantly reaching out to you. And when you don’t protest, he pulls you into a hug, rubbing his hands gently on your back.

Sanji hates seeing you like this — so defeated and broken, all because of him. He didn’t like seeing you cry. But right now he knows he needs to explain himself. “I liked you too back then…”

You pull away in shock after hearing his words, wiping the tears in your eyes. Just as you’re about to ask why he turned you down, he continues, “But the old geezer was against it. He says if I couldn’t stay loyal to you, then I’d only hurt you more and make matters worse.”

What Sanji was saying makes a lot of sense. Zeff highly respects women, which was why he couldn’t turn you away when you had nowhere else to stay. And knowing Sanji, you can tell just how much he looks up to him, despite him always talking back to the older chef. It’s only natural for him to heed Zeff’s words.

“I was young and I didn’t think I was ready yet, so I turned you down as gently as I could… and when you said it was fine, I was so relieved. But then you left without a word and I… I just… I really did miss you all these years.”

“What about now?”

“Huh?”

“Do you still… like me?” You ask meekly.

Sanji smiles, which makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. “I do, but…”

You sigh sadly, “But?”

He looks over the window, and you follow his gaze. The sight of Luffy being chased around by Usopp on the deck welcomes you. “My loyalty still lies elsewhere.”

You immediately understand what he’s trying to say, and for the first time since you arrived in the Thousand Sunny, you genuinely smile. “Someday, then?”

Sanji faces you once again, and reciprocates your smile. “Yeah. Someday.”

[admelioraii]

In the footsteps of the Incan ancestors

Peruvian children in traditional clothing

Peru means “land of abundance”(in Aymara language) and that is a perfectly chosen word to describe this rich, diverse and colourful country. It is the third largest country in South America after Brazil and Argentina.

Peru has big amounts of mineral, agricultural and marine resources that have long served as its economic foundation.

The cold Peruvian current where upwelling brings abundant nutrients to the water surface there the beneficial effects of the sunlight results in plankton growth, which make these waters one of the world's greatest fishing grounds.

In spite of Peru's tropical location in the Southern Hemisphere it has enormous differences in climate, economical activities and ways of life.Peru is normally divided into three main geographic zones. The Andean highlands, the arid coastline and the largely unpopulated Peruvian Amazon, the rainforest.

This large geographical diversity gives Peru one of the greatest biodiversities in the world. In the upcoming section we will follow the footsteps of the Peruvian forefathers to discover more about this great and colourful country.

First footstep:👣

Our first footstep is the pre Incan culture.

The civilization “Caral” marks the beginning of the Peruvian, as well as the rest of the American continent’s history.

It is estimated to be as old as 5000 years, making it contemporary with the civilizations of Mesopotamia, Egypt, China and India.

Nevertheless, without leaving much trace of evidence of its existence the caral civilization suddenly disappeared and was replaced by the “Chavin” civilization.

In that way the history kept repeating itself and civilization followed civilization, some disappeared by themselves others were conquered by stronger ones.

Nasca Lines, Peru

Second Footstep:👣👣

Our second footstep is the Nazca. The Nazcas predated the Incas by as much as 2000 years, in other words 800 B.C and are most famous for having drawn the Nazca lines.

These are huge drawings representing a hummingbird, spider, fish, condor, heron, monkey, lizard, cat, dog and a human or some of the lines are just lines. By making shallow incisions in the desert floor, removing stones and leaving differently coloured dirt exposed, the lines they drew have been preserved during thousands of years due to the extreme environmental circumstances that have helped to preserve them.

The purpose of the lines is unclear but experts presume their purposes are religious.

Lake Titicaca, Peru

Third Footstep:👣👣👣

The third footstep is Lake Titicaca. This important lake has a maximum depth of 280 meters and is shared by Peru and Bolivia and is situated high up in the Andes at 3.812 metres. It is the world's highest navigable lake and it is said to be the birthplace of the Incas. The waters of lake Titicaca are famously still and brightly reflexive.

This fresh water lake, that also is one of South America’s largest lakes, is shaped as a puma, herefrom its name Titicaca meaning puma in Aymara language. Today we can see floating villages made of reeds on the lake, where the Uros people live. They rely on fishing and tourism for survival.

We also find protected aquatic wildlife by the lake, special and unique are the giant frogs.

Statue of Pachacutec, Aguas Calientes, Peru

Fourth Footstep:👣👣👣👣

The forth footstep are the Incas.

The Incan Empire was the last chapter of thousands of years of Andean civilization directly preceded by two other large scale Empires, the Tiwanaku 300-1100 A.C in the lake Titicaca region and the Wari or Huari 600-1100 A.C near the city of Ayacucho.

As said earlier the Incan civilization was born by the shores of lake Titicaca and grew to become an Empire, at the time known as “realm of the four parts”. It was the largest Empire in pre-Columbian America.

No monetary currency was used in the Incan Empire but exchange of goods and taxes consisted of a labour obligation of a person to the Empire. Another interesting fact is that they used knotted strings or so called “ quipus” for record keeping and written communication.

The Incas rose to power in the early 13th century and their last stronghold was conquered in 1572 by Spanish conquerors.

Ruins of the Empire can be found across Peru today, some of which are hidden by the rainforest's intense vegetation.

Machu Picchu, Peru

Fifth Footstep:👣👣👣👣👣

One of these ruins and our fifth footstep is Machu Picchu.

Machu Picchu the city in the clouds. 

Machu Picchu is one of the only Inca towns to have survived the Spanish conquest.

Believed to have been built in the 1400’s Machu Picchu got the nickname “the lost city of the Incas” because it is said that the Spanish never set foot there.

Because of its position up of two fault lines it experiences frequent earthquakes but thanks to the combination of its intelligent design and sturdy building materials it has survived through time.

There are 150 buildings in this old site and they vary from temples to bathhouses.

Without doubt one of the most impressive architectural features of Machu Picchu is the renowned staircase with 100 steps that have been carved out of one single piece of stone.

On top of that and as far as we know the Incas didn’t have any wheels thus it had to have been hauled to the summit by hand or carved out of the mountain itself.

Machu Picchu translated from Quechua means “old mountain “or “old peak” and it was cleverly built to withstand earthquakes and to avoid landslides. Water collecting systems were built under the buildings inside the mountains.

These systems collected water in drainage basins and the water was later redistributed throughout Machu Picchu and surroundings.

Roads leading to and from Machu Picchu were connected to the Empire’s transport system including paths, bridges and mountain tracks that stretched all over Peru.

Rainbow Mountains

Sixths Footstep:👣👣👣👣👣👣

Even though our sixth footstep doesn’t involve the country’s history it is a remarkably beautiful footstep.

The rainbow mountains. 

The colour of these mountains resembles that of a rainbow, here from the name, they are also called “Montaña de siete colores” (the seven coloured mountain). It is situated in the Andean mountain chain at 5.200 meters above sea level.

These beautifully multicoloured mountains with tones of turquoise, lavender,gold, terracotta and red, contain 14 different colours in total. The mountains have got their colours from weathering and mineralogy. The dissimilar colouration developed due to different environmental conditions and mineralogy when the sediment was originally deposited and later día genetically altered. The temperature here is 0 degrees celcius at night. It is one of the world’s most amazing natural wonders!

Chan Chan, Peru

Seventh Footstep:👣👣👣👣👣👣👣

The seventh and last footstep is a combination of some small, scattered and interesting locations.

Framed by three volcanoes and built primarily from white volcanic stones, Arequipa is one of Peru’s most charming colonial cities.

It is here that we find “Santuarios Andinos “ , a small museum with a grisly secret, the mummified remains of the young victims offered as human sacrifices in the peak overlooking the city.

The 550 years old “ice maiden “ Juanita is the best preserved of the mummies.

Even though the south of Peru is a land of Misty volcanoes here we also find one of the world's deepest canyons “Colca” with a depth of 3.250 meters, where mighty condors live. The tribe”los collaguas” who also lived here in the high part of the canyon, used to bury their dead by digging a hole along the steep rocky canyon and marking it with red paint. Faint red stains can still be found today when driving along the canyon on the roads on the tops of the mountains.

In the northern parts of Peru where the Moche civilization had its stronghold around 300 A.D, we find the Lord of Sipán (señor de Sipán). His remains were found not too long ago as the first of a group of mummies found at Huaca Rajada, Sipán.

Lord of Sipán was 35-45 years old when he died but it is his treasures that amazed the world as most of his ornaments were either gold, silver, bronze or semi precious stones.

The Incan bath houses are situated in Cajamarca, it is centred on a spa which uses thermal spring water with medical and therapeutic benefits.

It is said to have been the favourite place of the Incan Lord Atawallpa.

Another remarkable location is the Chanchan cultures sand houses in the capital of the Chimu kingdom, they are from the 15th century and still standing today.

Gold Treasures

Conclusion:

Having followed the footsteps, we have reached the end of our mountain trail. This marks the finish line of our journey in Peru leaving us with the conclusion.

Peru, as the rest of Latin America, are rich and abundant countries. They are also known for centuries to have been rich in precious metals such as gold and silver.

It is not difficult to imagine where the rumours of “ El dorado” come from.

Whether it is imaginary, based on legends or somewhat truth based.

One can ask himself if there was nothing else behind Columbus' voyage to the “ new world”.

Al khashkhash ibn Said ibn Aswad , an Andalusian citizen from Còrdoba, traveled with a group of friends by ship and crossed the “sea of darkness”(that’s what the Arabs used to call the Atlantic Ocean). On his return in 889 A.C he shared his stories about what he saw and the people he met.

Imam al Shabi, wrote in one of his books 600 A.C about a land behind al Andalus, as far away from there as “we” are from al Andalus.

In any case, they were not the only ones to have discovered the”big land”.

According to the Arabs the Africans, to be more precise the Malians, also traveled to Latin America, they as well as the Arabs went to the Americas in pre-Columbian times.

Mali was one of the richest and most developed countries in Africa in the 14th century.

Could Columbus have been so confused or misinformed or was it a “cover up expedition” as an excuse to conquer and plunder “the big land”???

Information obtained from; 

Etapas históricas del Perú www gob.pe gobierno del Perú, 

National Geographic’s Megastructures, 

Historical Arabic sources, and 

A special thanks to a dear friend for providing insight and support.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 32: Wings in Amber

Summary: In the midst of hollowed dreams, a choice must be made.

Read on AO3

Read chapter 32 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

Chapter 32: Wings in Amber

***

“Claire?”

The sound of someone calling her name dragged her from the grip of the peaceful darkness she’d been resting in. “Claire? Wake up, a leannan,” came the call again. It sounded urgent, even scared, but Claire felt too muted to respond. Until the realization of whose voice it was hit her, at the same time as she became aware of warm hands cupping her shoulders and pulling her upward from the bed. 

“Jamie?” she murmured, fighting now against the waves of exhaustion that crashed over her head. 

“Claire? Oh thank Christ,” came her beloved’s voice, “ye scared me, mo ghraidh.” 

Forcing her eyes open, she found herself cradled in his embrace, leaning against one of his strong arms and one of his hands holding the side of her face. 

“Good morning, lass,” Jamie said as she met his eyes. 

She wanted to say it back to him. She wanted to say anything at all. But the words seemed caught inside her mind, unable to be expressed. She panicked for a second, thinking she may never get a chance to tell him how much she loved him.

“Jamie, I love you,” came from her lips as she suddenly realized her mouth was able to move after all. 

It looked as if she had hit him square in the gut rather than express her love, but her eyes were falling closed, and she couldn’t think more on it. 

“I love you, Sassenach,” his deep voice echoed, “dinna fash, I ken.” 

She didn’t know what that meant. Everything seemed foggy for a second, as if she was trying to perceive the world through a haze of cotton. She must have lost track of time because the next thing she was aware of was the feeling of Jamie’s warm hand shaking her cheek. 

“Hey, stay wi’ me now, lass,” he rumbled. 

The muscles of her face tightened in concentration as she managed to open her eyes again. 

“Aye, there ye are,” Jamie said, an odd tinge in his voice that made him sound like he was choking. 

That worried her, but she couldn’t seem to focus her mind on it. He seemed too distant, so far out of her grasp. 

His thumb traced back and forth over her cheek as he stroked it with a sweet fondness that made her feel infinitesimally better. 

“We’re goin’ tae go out for a bit,” he said, making Claire’s attention pique. 

She thought for a second maybe she’d imagined it. Surely he couldn’t have been suggesting…

“I can’t, Jamie,” there was an edge of pleading in her voice. 

“Only for a wee while, and then ye can rest,” he said. He sounded terribly strange, like his light words didn’t match the strain in his vocal cords. What was going on? 

“Please, don’t make me, I’m so tired,” she breathed, trying to keep the whimper inside her throat. 

“I ken ye’re tired, but this willna take but a few moments, and I’ll carry ye.” 

She opened her eyes— not aware that they had fallened closed— and fixed them directly on Jamie’s. Tears of desperation beaded at the corners as she thought of doing anything but laying there in the safety of his arms and in their bed. 

“Please, Jamie,” she swallowed hard, “I’m so tired. Please. Just hold me?” 

She’d made that request before; several times. But never before had she meant it as much as she had in that moment. 

Something was going on in Jamie’s face, but she couldn’t identify what. He was starting to scare her. Nothing he was doing made sense to her brain, and she felt a shred of terror take root in her heart that something was wrong with him. Was he pulling away? Why was he refusing to hold her when he never had before? 

Her fears were assuaged when he gave a jerky nod and suddenly pulled her into an embrace. Perhaps embrace wasn’t the right word for it because Claire couldn’t manage to make her limbs respond enough to return it, but he pulled her upper body tight against him and buried his face in her hair. 

“Alright, a leannan, it can wait. I’ll hold ye for a little while longer.” 

Claire felt a sigh escape her lips, feeling relieved. That was good. Very good. She let her eyes flutter closed as Jamie began to move, repositioning her while she remained limp under his capable hands. Soon, she was horizontal on the bed again, and his body was pressed behind her. His arms came around to her to pull her securely back against him, and they didn’t leave her. They would never leave her. 

He was saying something then, speaking words over her that she couldn’t quite make out. It sounded nice and she wished she could listen to them. Even without understanding though, she felt a tug of wellness deep within her soul. 

She was drifting again, lost in that odd sea of grey oblivion, but this time, she was content. Jamie was there with her; she could still feel his body against hers even as her mind began to swirl. Everything would be okay, she knew it, as long as he was with her, holding her in his arms. 

***

Numb. 

Jamie was numb with despair. 

It was a feeling so debilitating that Jamie could scarcely bring himself to move. Except the resignation was stronger still. 

This time, there was no choice. 

It wasn’t like the raw heartbreak that he’d experienced the first time he took her to the stones because there was no decision. No room for regret or guilt. There was only action to be taken. 

Action that would tear them apart forever. 

But somehow, despite the knowledge that he had one course only and there was nothing more to be done but act, the sorrow and grief still cut him to the quick. 

As much as he wanted to cry and scream and rage over how unfair it was, one glimpse at the love of his life— so still and ashen it was like there was barely an ounce of life left in her— he couldn’t. He had to do what needed to be done, and he had to be strong enough to do it. 

It couldn’t be delayed any longer. When she’d pleaded with him in that small voice just to hold her for a little while— not even knowing what lay ahead— he gave into weakness. In the time he’d spent laying with her then, watching her in that uneasy sleep that brought no rest for her fatigued body, it had taken all his strength to convince himself again of what needed to be done. He had to keep reminding himself that there was no choice. No alternatives. He couldn’t wait any longer— he was selfishly taking time she didn’t have. 

He gently gathered her in his arms, lifting her up from the bed to cradle her upper body against his chest. 

“Jamie?” she murmured, the word coming out slurred, disoriented. 

She was barely conscious. Oh God. God help him. 

“Dinna fash, mo ghraidh,” he said, not even aware that he had said it. How had his lips formed the words? He didn’t know. 

Her glassy eyes closed again, her head resting bonelessly against his shoulder. He raised a hand to gently stroke her cheek. 

She was so lovely even in her suffering. 

Christ, he would miss her beyond words...

—Enough of those thoughts! They could stop him altogether, and there was no room for that. No room for anything but action.  

With gentleness so extreme it nearly killed him, he brought his arm underneath her knees and stood, lifting her fragile form from the bed. 

He prayed she wouldn’t wake enough while they were at home to argue with him again. Please God...— he didn’t even know what to plead. That she stayed unconscious the whole time, or that she would wake enough to say goodbye? He didn’t know which would be worse. Or which would be better. Neither could be better. 

Carrying her out to the car, his stomach churning with the realization that this was the last time she’d ever be in his house, Jamie forced himself onward. 

It had to be done. To save her. 

His name fell from her lips again. It was almost a cry, an incoherent pleading for him to make things better. 

“Dinna fash, a leannan,” he answered, “I’m here. I’ll see ye safe. I promised ye I’ll see ye safe.”  

She settled again, going still and lifeless in his arms in a way that terrified him to the very core. Looking down, her face was nearly pale as a porcelain doll’s, and just as perfect. Those lashes curled against her cheek, dark and delicate. Only she was missing her usual glow. What had been a bright shine when he’d first found her had gradually faded into a muted shimmer until now the only thing that surrounded her was an air of heaviness. 

God, give him strength. 

Somehow, taking stock of her made it easier for him to take the next steps. He focused on the fact that there was no choice. Nowhere to go but straight ahead. Nothing to do but send her away. 

He set her in the backseat of the car, tears nearly falling at the thought that he would have to spend much of their last precious few minutes away from her, but he wanted her to be able to lay down comfortably. 

She didn’t protest when he gently deposited her into the backseat. There was no peep from her, and he started to panic at the thought that she might very well be unconscious when the time came to send her through the stones. 

He left her there to get in the driver’s seat, and that tiny effort nearly broke him. How would he possibly have the strength to do what needed to be done? 

As he drove toward those terrible stones, his mind couldn’t help but cry out at the injustice. 

He had thought he’d be able to hold her for the rest of his days. He’d dreamed of their life together. He’d been careless with the time they’d had, thinking it forever. Jamie didn’t understand how such happiness could be ripped from him so quickly. How the promise of a life with her could end up so hollow? 

Promises. He’d made so many to himself and said so few aloud. There was so much more to say. Too many things. 

He should have said them when he had the chance. 

Before long, the hill came into view, and he parked the car at the edge of the road. 

She was limp as a ragdoll as he gathered her into his arms, her head falling against his shoulder when he picked her up. 

“Hold on,” he murmured, pressing one kiss to the top of her curls, and then another, “hold on, mo chridhe. I’ve got ye.” 

It felt like he was wearing boots made entirely of lead as he began his trek toward the hill. Every step felt like it would be his last— surely his strength would give and his resolve would break. Only he kept moving, kept going toward the stones. Because he had to. 

“Jamie?” 

This time, there was coherence to the whispered sound of his name. Jamie looked down in surprise to find glassy eyes regarding him with confusion. 

His heart sang with relief at the same time as anxiety flooded his veins. 

“Hi, sweet one. It’s good tae see those beautiful eyes.” 

“Where are we?” voice small and oh-so fatigued. 

His tongue couldn’t seem to form the words to tell her that they were walking toward the stones. He tried to tell her the truth, only he couldn’t seem to do it. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He closed it again, swallowing hard. 

“I want to go home,” she said, pained and breathless. 

Home— oh Christ. She was going home. Only she meant his home, the home that had become theirs, but he was sending her home . 

“Jes’ a little bit longer,” he said, only sheer resolve and monumental will keeping him from choking on the words. That was the truth. It would only be a little bit longer, and then she’d be home— gone from him forever. 

She didn’t answer, and he wondered for a second if she’d drifted out of consciousness again. But when he looked down, he noticed her eyes were still open and there was a tear tracking slowly from the corner of one eye. 

If his heart had not already been torn from his chest, that would have done him in. He stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his lungs. 

“What is it, mo ghraidh?” he asked, wrecked beyond repair. 

“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head, “I don’t know why I’m crying.”  

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t take one step closer to the stones. 

And then... his love— the very breath of his lungs and beat of his heart— said to him, so quietly it was barely more than a whisper, “I love you, Jamie. You know that?” 

All his resolve fell to pieces. Obliterated, shattered, wrecked until it was a pile of dust. He sank to his knees, every ligament feeling like jelly. He ended up on the ground with grass tickling at his legs and Claire cradled in his lap, her beautiful but haunted eyes gazing up at him with so much trust— some much love— that he could barely stand it. He swallowed, hard. 

There was one thing and one thing only on his heart and on his tongue. 

Don’t say it. 

It’s not fair. 

You have no right. 

But he couldn’t stop it any more than he could stop the flow of water after a dam had broken. There was nothing left to do but embrace the wave and the words he’d been aching to say for too damn long. 

You can’t do this. 

Hold yer tongue. 

Don’t say it, you goddamn bloody bastard.

“Marry me,” he said anyway, the words falling from his lips as if they had been torn from his very soul, “marry me, Claire. I want you to be mine.” 

You selfish bastard. 

But he couldn’t stop. He was only human after all; he was weak. His heart longed to be left with one thing….

He wanted the knowledge that after she was gone from him, she would still be his. 

And that was the most despicable thing he’d done in his life. 

He had no right to ask that of her. 

“Yes, Jamie, of course I want that,” she was saying, “I’m yours forever.” But she didn’t know... She didn’t—

“Right now,” he burst out, “we can be handfast now. Please Claire, please say yes, mo ghraidh.” 

She struggled to lift her head from his shoulder, as if she was trying to sit up, only she lacked the strength even to raise her face. 

“Yes,” she said. 

Her eyes were dazed, glassy with exhaustion, but there was joy there too. She’d wanted this for as long as he had— he knew. Only she didn’t know what he really was asking of her. Not to be his forever with him, but to be his forever without him. 

Jamie thought himself a good man, but he wasn’t without his flaws. Of all his transgressions, he thought asking this of her might have been the worst. But he prayed that God would grant him forgiveness. And that the knowledge of their union would keep him for the rest of his lonely days. 

“Alright then,” he said, a bit shakily, his breath hitching in his chest. 

He let go of Claire with one hand and went fumbling around in his pocket. All he needed was something to bind them, anything, but he had nothing of use. His jacket sleeve would have to do. 

Handfasting was an ancient ritual, not typically used in the present day and age, but it still held weight in Scottish culture. It particularly held weight for Jamie, as his parents had been handfast at the tender age of 18 when they’d run away together. A handfasting was a promise: between two people and God. And that was all he needed. 

As he wrapped the sleeve around his and Claire’s wrists, he explained this to her, his voice shaking slightly. 

“It means we’ll be bonded fer life, ye ken?” he finished. They’d talked about the concept of human marriage before, but he wanted to be certain she knew the weight of the ceremony before they began. 

“I told you, Jamie,” she breathed weakly, “I knew we were bonded for life a long time ago. I was just waiting for you to catch up.” 

“I’m wi’ ye now, mo chridhe,” he whispered.

The dress she was wearing was her favorite— the white dress that had been hanging on display in Mrs. Fitz’ shop that day, the first one she’s tried on. It was like a stab to the heart to think that this dress was now her wedding dress. He would have decked her in the finest lace and most beautiful wedding attire there was, but it brought him some small comfort to see her at least in white, in something she loved. 

He wished he could sit her up and look straight into her eyes as they said the words, but he knew she lacked the strength. He kept her laid against his arm, staring down at her in adoration. 

“Repeat after me,” he said softly. 

She gave a nod against his shoulder. 

“You are Blood of my Blood and Bone of My Bone,” Jamie began, feeling a shiver run across his body. 

She repeated after him, sounding breathless but sure. Her thumb brushed across his forearm where they grasped each other. It was a small sign of affection, but it soothed Jamie’s aching heart. 

“I give you my body, that we two may be one.” 

Feeling her laying against him, it seemed like she had already given him her body. She could barely move, yet trusted him so completely. Jamie swallowed hard, trying not to think about how they’d never have the opportunity to belong to each other in a physical sense. 

“I give you my spirit, ‘til our life shall be done.” 

Their life together would be done soon. Jamie hated himself for asking her to make this promise, but she’d be released from it the moment she went through the stones. Not him, though. He knew he’d belong to her for the rest of his days. ‘Til his life shall be done, he’d love her. 

“You are Blood of my Blood and Bone of my Bone,” Jamie finished, with Claire echoing softly. 

And then she was his wife. 

With the utmost delicacy, he reached to tilt her face upward. Her cheek slid against his shoulder, and she looked up at him with eyes swimming with emotion. Adoration. Joy. Love. 

And he kissed her. 

It felt so much like the moment she’d ran down from the hill to throw herself in his arms and kiss him for the first time, yet so different. Her lips rocked Jamie’s world in nearly the same way. He felt like he was drowning in her just as much; her touch consumed him and soothed him all at the same time. Yet she was so still. There was no running. No eager hands threading through his hair. No arms clutching on to him for dear life. Just her body resting against his and her lips pressing softly to his touch. 

When he pulled back, he couldn’t help but profess, “I love ye, mo nighean donn.” 

“I love you too, Jamie,” she whispered. 

His hand was still cupping her cheek, keeping her face lifted toward him. He found himself growing lost in the whisky of her eyes. His thumb stroked back and forth over her jaw, reveling in the feeling of the silky skin. 

But he could tell that fatigue was dragging her under again. She blinked slowly, trying to keep her eyes open as if she wanted to stay connected with him, but eventually they fluttered closed and didn’t open again. 

Jamie felt a tug in his stomach— a sharp pull of grief. He just wanted more time! He wanted to bask in the joy of being married to her. He wanted to call her Mrs. Fraser and make love to his wife. God, he wanted—

There were too many things he wanted that he would never have. Sitting there on the grass as his new wife faded before his very eyes, he knew he couldn’t waste any more time. 

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, finding it clammy, and then another to her curls. 

“I love you, Mrs. Fraser,” he whispered under his breath, “I’ll love you for all of my days.” 

He gathered her up again, repositioning her limp and malleable body, and then stood. She felt so light in his arms. A burden only to his broken heart to see her like this. 

His heart pounding in his chest, he began carrying her toward the stones. 

***

Claire drifted, floating and falling at the same time. Grasping at awareness was like reaching through the mist, holding on to nothing substantial. 

She swirled in vague feelings of joy. Images of the ceremony with Jamie flashed through her mind on repeat. Glimpses of his face, the tie around their hands, the feeling of his lips. The words in his soft, Scottish brogue. Promising to love her forever. 

It was just out of reach. What should have been the perfect moment was shrouded in thick fog that threatened to suffocate Claire. 

Her head went under the water again. She could tell she was in motion. Strong, familiar arms carried her. But beyond that, everything seemed to fade away. 

*

She was dragged back to the surface sometime later by a sharp feeling of grief, like a stab through her very core. From some unknown source, it seared her, forced her brain to jolt into motion and her eyes to open. 

Blinking into the bright light, she found herself laying on the ground, Jamie’s arms around her upper body. He was curled over top of her, holding her to his chest in a tight embrace. 

He was saying something, what was he saying? 

“Please, Sassenach, please wake up.” 

His face was pressed into her hair, and she could distantly feel his tears wetting her skin. 

She tried to open her mouth to tell him she was awake and he didn't have to worry, but no words came out. Her stomach clenched, and she was hit by another wave of grief. Jarring, agonizing. 

It was coming from him. 

“Jamie?” she forced out. 

Her head was swimming. Keeping her eyes open was a feat in itself, and she couldn’t seem to grasp what was going on. 

“Sassenach!” 

He drew back, and she took in sight of his tear streaked face before her brain could process what she was seeing. He looked wrecked, his blue eyes shining with a hollowness that sent enough adrenaline through her veins to keep her conscious. 

“What’s going on?” her lips managed to form the words as her insides twisted in on themselves. 

“It’s time to go home now,” he said as his hand came up to cradle her cheek. His thumb was gently stroking, soft and tender, and her mind drifted away from his words. 

“Good, let’s go home,” she murmured. 

“No, Claire,” the way he said her name made her perk up again, blinking in an attempt to keep her wits, “look where we are.” 

For the first time, Claire managed to look beyond Jamie’s face, and she noticed the grey shapes surrounding them, rising into the sky in a foreboding way that made her blood turn cold. 

Before she could say anything, Jamie was speaking. “Listen to me. Ye have tae go through the stones, Claire. Ye’re cut off from yer energy source. Ye canna stay in this realm or ye’ll die.” 

The words couldn’t seem to penetrate. It was like she was wrapped in a thick cloud, and although she could hear his words, she couldn’t quite comprehend them. Jamie watched her with tear stained eyes as the words took a moment to sink in.

But the instant they did and her brain repeated back to her what he’d said, she was doused in a wave of icy panic. Panic that consumed her entire soul, but she was too tired to feel it with real intensity. Instead, it was like she was frozen, paralyzed as she watched the ground underneath her feet give way, crumbling into nothingness.  

“No,” she whispered, too weak to do more than that. “No.” 

She tried to shake her head. She would have been yelling and screaming if she could have, but her neck wouldn’t even move. “No.”

“There isna any choice,” Jamie sounded shattered, “I canna let ye die.”

“I’ll die without you,” she mustered, frustrated at how trapped she felt. She couldn’t let him do this. She had to fight. But her useless body betrayed her. 

That bloody, heroic fool. Don’t you see? Sending me back will kill me more surely than if I stayed — she wanted to yell. 

“No, you won’t,” Jamie choked, his hand reaching up to stroke her cheek, “ye’ll have a life. Ye’ll survive.”

“I won’t go,” came her breathy words. 

Darkness was pulling at her again. It shrouded her senses, clogging her mind even as her heart raced in horror. 

Everything was ending and she was powerless to do anything. 

“Please,” Jamie was begging now, his tears dripping down his face and falling on her skin. The image of her beloved above her wavered for a second, coming in and out of focus, but she could tell he was just as wrecked as she. “Please, lass. Dinna argue. I canna bear it.”

This time, it was her throat that refused to move. Words failed her as the inky blackness threatened the edges of her vision. 

With all her strength, she managed to shake her head with exhausted but clear conviction. 

“I willna let ye die. I canna let ye stay and fade away while knowin’ that I could have saved ye. Ye canna stay.” 

Her vision faded out for a second, but she could tell the tenor of his voice was changing with those words. He no longer sounded broken and wrecked. He sounded… resigned. 

When she fought to regain her senses and the sight of him came back into focus, his face was as hard as the stones looming behind him. 

“I won’t go.” Her words were so weak, like tiny waves lapping against a massive cliff. 

“Ye must,” he said firmly. 

She wanted to cry. Claire desperately wanted her Jamie back— the one who would tenderly take her in his arms and hold close while whispering words of love. Telling her they’d be together for eternity. Gentle and giving. It wasn’t that this Jamie wasn’t tender— he was holding her close with such concern— but he pushing her away at the same time, resolution forming a coldness that made tears flow down her cheeks. 

She hadn’t known that she’d closed her eyes until she felt a thumb swiping over her cheeks and she realized she saw only blackness. 

“I’m so sorry,” his voice was softer now, grief breaking through the facade of strength, “I ken ye dinna want to go. I ken ye want to fight and scream and cry but ye dinna have the strength. This isna fair. But it’s time now.”

He was still speaking, voice low and solemn. “I need ye to ken, Claire, that I love ye with all of my heart and soul. And I will love ye until the day I die. I would have given everything to spare ye this pain. But ye have to go on and live... for me.”

She barely had time to take those words and hold them in her heart, treasuring them in a sacred space, knowing it would be all she had left of him. 

Claire wished desperately she could say them back. But her tongue had grown impossibly heavy again, and the invisible hand of sorrow and panic gripped her by the throat. 

He was moving, picking her up in his arms and lifting her. 

“Jamie. No,” she whispered brokenly, with all the fight she had left in her. 

“I love ye,” he said, the stony resolve etching itself into his face again. 

“Please,” she begged, “please. I love you.” 

He looked down at her, stricken. She almost felt bad for what her pleading was doing to him, but she couldn’t let him do this. She couldn’t be parted from him. 

But he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. The kiss was incredibly soft. Gentle. As if he were scared that she would fall apart but desperate to savor her one last time. 

Then, all too quickly, he was pulling away and setting her down to lay just in front of the center stone. As her body settled prone on the ground, she was forced to look up at the looming height of her destiny. 

“No,” she whimpered, shattered, but her voice barely came out as more than a breath, and he likely couldn’t even hear her. 

The swirling grey of fatigue clouded her vision as Jamie pulled her upright, propped against his chest. She couldn’t see him anymore since they were both facing the stone. She couldn’t look into his eyes one last time. She couldn’t memorize the beautiful lines of his face. 

She couldn’t fight. 

He took her hand in his, lifting her boneless arm up, slowly. 

“Goodb—“ the word caught in his throat, choking it off. 

She could feel his chest expand against her back as he took a deep, shaky breath. 

“I love you, mo Sorcha,” he murmured into her ear as he raised her hand. 

No. Stop. Stopstopstopstop—

Her body didn’t move. Spots flashed in front of her vision. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. 

His one last, final “I love you,” echoed in her ears as Jamie pushed her hand forward, and it made contact with the stone. 

Blackness took her. The solid strength of his body disappeared from behind her, and her own body was sucked away, torn into shreds and crushed and mangled. 

She tried to scream, but no sound came out. 

***

Jamie screamed, agony tearing from his chest quite against his will as his arms held only empty air where Claire had been only an instant before. 

She was gone. 

He felt himself shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, the pain so unspeakable that he couldn’t even breathe. 

Before his mind realized what he was doing, his own arms were raising and he was pounding his hands flat against the surface of the stone. 

“Take me too!” He yelled. 

But nothing happened. He stayed seated in the grass in front of the stone, truly and horribly motionless. 

He hit the stone again, his lungs constricting as he began to pound against it— over and over— his grief pouring out of him. 

“Please. Please. Take me with her,” he sobbed, “please. Take me.”

He hit it until his palms bled and his blood stained the surface of the stone. 

***

Claire awoke feeling like her body had been buried beneath the earth for some time. For all she knew, it had. Perhaps she was dead. It felt like she was dead. 

As awareness slowly broke through the fog of her exhaustion, she found herself laying on top of the ground rather than below it. Grass was pricking at her skin. She forced her eyes open and caught sight of the stones looming above her. 

And then the terrible reality of what had just happened came crashing down at her. 

“No,” she cried out, her voice hoarse and barely there, “no.” 

But it was true. Jamie was gone from her. She was gone. 

She attempted to push herself up, managing to get up onto her elbows before her traitorous arms gave way and she slammed back down onto the ground. 

“Take me back!” She tried to yell, her voice gaining intensity despite her exhaustion, “I have to go back!” 

Abandoning the idea of standing, she pushed her hands underneath herself and tried to drag her body forward, toward the stones. 

“I have to go back,” her voice was fading, the screams in her heart coming out only as a faint whisper. 

She collapsed down again, and familiar blackness stole into the corners of her vision. She tried to fight it, tried to fight the wave of nausea overtaking her, but she was powerless. 

She couldn’t go back. 

Darkness took her again. 

***

A/n: And you guys thought you hated me last chapter....

Two more to go in Arc II. tomorrow and the next day. Thanks so much for reading!!!

Next

[dfroza]

All things new.

(it shall be)

Today’s reading of the Scriptures from the New Testament is the 21st chapter of the book of Revelation:

I looked again and could hardly believe my eyes. Everything above me was new. Everything below me was new. Everything around me was new because the heaven and earth that had been passed away, and the sea was gone, completely. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, prepared like a bride on her wedding day, adorned for her husband and for His eyes only. And I heard a great voice, coming from the throne.

A Voice: See, the home of God is with His people.

He will live among them;

They will be His people,

And God Himself will be with them.

The prophecies are fulfilled:

He will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

Mourning no more, crying no more, pain no more,

For the first things have gone away.

And the One who sat on the throne announced to His creation,

The One: See, I am making all things new. (turning to me) Write what you hear and see, for these words are faithful and true. It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. I will see to it that the thirsty drink freely from the fountain of the water of life. To the victors will go this inheritance: I will be their God, and they will be My children. It will not be so for the cowards, the faithless, the sacrilegious, the murderers, the sexually immoral, the sorcerers, the idolaters, and all those who deal in deception. They will inherit an eternity in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.

And then one of the seven messengers in charge of the seven bowls filled with the seven last plagues came over to me.

Heavenly Messenger: Come with me, and I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb.

He took me away in the Spirit and set me on top of a great, high mountain. As I waited for what I thought was a bride, he showed me the holy city, Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God. It gleamed and shined with the glory of God; its radiance was like the most precious of jewels, like jasper, and it was as clear as crystal. It was surrounded with a wall, great and high. There were twelve gates. Assigned to each gate was a messenger, twelve in all. And on the gates were inscribed the names of the twelve tribes of Israel’s sons. On the east wall were three gates. On the north wall were three gates. On the south wall were three gates. On the west wall were three gates. And the city wall sat perfectly on twelve foundation stones, and on them were inscribed the names of the twelve emissaries of the Lamb.

My guide held a golden measuring rod. With it he measured the city and the gates and the walls. And the city is laid out with four corners in a perfect square, the length the same as its width. He measured the city with his measuring rod, and the result was that its length and width and height are equal: 1,444 miles, a perfect cube. And my guide measured the wall; it was nearly 72 yards high, in human measurements, which was the instrument the guide was using. The wall was made of jasper, while the city itself was made of pure gold, yet it was as clear as glass. The foundation stones of the wall of the city were decorated with every kind of jewel: the first was jasper, the second sapphire, the third agate, the fourth emerald, the fifth onyx, the sixth carnelian, the seventh chrysolite, the eighth beryl, the ninth topaz, the tenth chrysoprase, the eleventh jacinth, the twelfth amethyst. The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate expertly crafted from a single beautiful pearl. And the city street was pure gold, yet it was as transparent as glass.

And in the city, I found no temple because the Lord God, the All Powerful, and the Lamb are the temple. And in the city, there is no need for the sun to light the day or moon the night because the resplendent glory of the Lord provides the city with warm, beautiful light and the Lamb illumines every corner of the new Jerusalem. And all peoples of all the nations will walk by its unfailing light, and the rulers of the earth will stream into the city bringing with them the symbols of their grandeur and power. During the day, its gates will not be closed; the darkness of night will never settle in. The glory and grandeur of the nations will be on display there, carried to the holy city by people from every corner of the world. Nothing that defiles or is defiled can enter into its glorious gates. Those who practice sacrilege or deception will never walk its streets. Only those whose names are written in the Lamb’s book of life can enter.

The Book of Revelation, Chapter 21 (The Voice)

A note from The Voice translation:

John sees an amazing sight. It is something no one had ever seen nor will ever see until that day arrives. Scene by blessed scene passes before the prophet. Finally he is transported to the end of history only to discover it is no end at all; it is a new beginning. The prophecies—every last one of them—are coming true. God’s plan will be accomplished on earth as it is in heaven when the new Jerusalem comes down and He lives among His people. All things will become new.

Today’s paired reading from the First Testament is the 10th chapter of the book of Hosea:

Israel, once a vibrant vine that bore adequate fruit, is now barren.

The more fruit he bore, the more altars he made;

the more his fertile soil produced, the more he made the sacred pillars.

But they aren’t loyal to God in their hearts, and now they’ll pay the penalty:

the Eternal will break apart their altars and smash their sacred pillars.

Then they’ll say, “We don’t have our own king anymore

because we didn’t fear the Eternal One.

But even if we still had a king, what could he do for us?”

They speak a lot of sensible words,

but their oaths are insincere, and their covenant promises are empty.

This is why the king’s judgment sprouts up like poisonous weeds in a plowed field.

The people of Samaria are afraid of what will happen to the calf-idol of Beth-aven;

the people will mourn for it, and its pagan priests will join in lament.

They’ll wail when its glory departs.

The wretched idol will be taken to Assyria and given to the great king.

Ephraim will be disgraced;

Israel will be ashamed because of this king’s counsel.

Samaria and her king will be cut off,

carried away like a twig on the swirling waters.

The wicked high places where Israel’s people sinned will be destroyed;

thorns and thistles will cover their once-proud altars.

People will beg the mountains, “Surround us!”

They’ll plead with the hills, “Cover us!”

Eternal One: From the days of Gibeah you, Israel, have sinned!

And they’re still the same today. Nothing has changed.

Will war overtake these people of wickedness in Gibeah?

At the time I choose, I’ll punish them:

nations will gather against them

because they have compounded their own guilt.

Ephraim was a trained heifer who loved to tread on the threshing floor.

Now I have lashed a yoke to her fair neck.

Judah will plow, and Jacob will break up the hard, compacted soil.

Plant a crop of righteousness for yourselves,

harvest the fruit of unfailing love,

And break up your hard soil,

because it’s time to seek the Eternal

until He comes and waters your fields with justice.

You’ve plowed wickedness and reaped injustice;

you’ve eaten the fruit of deception.

Because you’ve trusted in your own might,

in the size and skill of your army,

So the nations will line up against you in battle

and all of your fortifications will be destroyed,

Just as Shalman destroyed Beth-arbel when he fought against it

and dashed its mothers to pieces with their children!

The same thing will happen to you, O Bethel, because you’re so wicked.

When that day breaks, the king of Israel will be completely destroyed.

The Book of Hosea, Chapter 10 (The Voice)

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures for friday, january 5 of 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New) of the Bible along with Today’s Proverbs and Psalms

A post by John Parsons about our great need of God’s salvation:

"God, Who is everywhere, never leaves us. Yet He seems sometimes to be present, sometimes to be absent. If we do not know Him well, we do not realize that He may be more present to us when He is absent than when He is present." - Thomas Merton

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The name for ancient Egypt in Hebrew is “mitzrayim” (מִצְרַיִם) a word that can be translated as “straits” or “narrow places” (i.e., -מ, "from," and צַר, "narrow"), suggesting that “Egypt” represents a place of constriction, tribulation, oppression, slavery, and despair. The Hebrew word for salvation, on the other hand, is “yeshuah” (יְשׁוּעָה), a word that means deliverance from restriction, that is, freedom and peace. As it is written: "From my distress (מִן־הַמֵּצַר), i.e., from "my Egypt," I cried out to the LORD; the LORD answered me and set me in a wide open place" (Psalm 118:5).

But why, it may be asked, did God tell Jacob: “Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt” (Gen. 46:3)? Why did God allow this excursion into “heavy darkness” that Abraham clearly foresaw (Gen. 15:12-13)? What is there about “Egypt” that prepares us to take hold of our promised inheritance? Joseph became a prince of Egypt; however, he was still captive to Pharaoh, and later, after he died, a “new Pharaoh arose” that did not acknowledge his contribution to Egyptian history (Exod. 1:8). All that remained of Joseph were his bones – a chest of bones that were carried by Moses (and later buried by Joshua in Shechem). The “bare bones” of Joseph represented the essence of his faith, as he foresaw the time when God would rescue the family from Egypt and raise him up in the land of promise (Gen. 50:24-26; Heb. 11:22).

A general principle of spiritual life is that the "the way up is the way down" (John 12:24). As Yeshua said, "Whoever would be first among you must be slave of all" (Mark 10:44). Becoming nothing (i.e., ayin) in this world is the condition for seeing something in the world to come. Unless a seed falls to the ground it abides alone (John 12:24). But we become “nothing” by trusting in the promise of God, not by trying to do it ourselves... This is not another venture of the ego. Life in the Spirit means trusting that God will do within you what you cannot do for yourself... We can only take hold of what God has done for us by "letting go" of our own devices (Phil. 2:13). When we let go and trust, we will be transformed, carried by the “Torah of the Spirit of life” (i.e., תּוֹרַת רוּחַ הַחַיִּים, Rom. 8:2), The way is not trying but trusting; not struggling but resting; not clinging to life, but letting go...

God's way of deliverance is entirely different than man's way. Man tries to enlist carnal power in the battle against sin (i.e., religion, politics, etc.), but God's way is to remove the flesh from the equation. The goal is not to make us stronger and stronger, but rather weaker and weaker, until the ego is crucified and only the sufficiency of the Messiah remains. Then we can truly say, "I have been crucified with Messiah. It is no longer I who live, but the Messiah who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me" (Gal 2:20). The word "Hebrew" (עִבְרִי) means one who has "crossed over" (עָבַר) to the other side, as our father Abraham did when he left the world of Mesopotamia (Gen. 14:13). Likewise it is on the other side of the cross that we experience the very power that created the universe "out of nothing" (i.e., yesh me'ayin: יֵשׁ מֵאַיִן) and that raised Yeshua the Messiah from the dead.

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

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Psalm 118:5 Hebrew reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm118-5-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/psalm118-5-lesson.pdf

1.2.23 • Facebook

from yesterday’s email by Israel 365:

Hashem’s salvation proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is a God, and that He is intimately involved in our lives. And, it ingrained in our hearts that all success and salvation come directly from Him.

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

January 5, 2024

Too Hard or Too Small

“Ah Lord GOD! behold, thou hast made the heaven and the earth by thy great power and stretched out arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee.” (Jeremiah 32:17)

This mighty declaration of faith in the Creator of heaven and Earth was given by Jeremiah in respect to a mundane sort of need—the need of assurance that his real estate investment would be safe even if he were forced to be away from it for many years. There is nothing too small for the Lord, just as there is nothing too hard for Him, and He delights to “shew himself strong in the behalf of them whose heart is perfect toward him” (2 Chronicles 16:9).

Since God created all things, He certainly can control all things. If a person really believes the very first verse of the Bible—the simple declaration that the entire space/mass (energy)/time universe had been called into existence by God—then he or she will never find it difficult to believe any of the other declarations or promises of His inspired Word.

In response to Jeremiah’s great statement of faith, God gave him the assurance he sought. “Behold, I am the LORD, the God of all flesh: is there any thing too hard for me?” (Jeremiah 32:27). God, who made the sea, could roll back its waters to enable His people to pass through its very midst unharmed (Exodus 14:29). He who made the earth could cause the earth to cease its rotation to give His people victory (Joshua 10:12-14). There is nothing too hard for the God of creation!

We can be confident that 21st-century problems are no more difficult for God than those of 600 BC. May our mighty Creator grant us trusting and obedient hearts in both the great problems and the small problems of life. In this verse, the Hebrew word for “hard” is the same as for “wonderful” (Psalm 107:8). God delights in transforming the hard things of life into the wonderful works of God! HMM