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bladiegfs · 1 year

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it's been a long, long time

➵ hcs + drabbles of being separated from your lover for a while (ft. jing yuan, blade, gepard)

➵ warning(s) applicable: none

➵ wc: 2.3k

➵ they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. but sometimes, you can't stand it.

➵ author's note: hugging (and a kiss on blade's) as a treat...

Jing Yuan

⇢ It had been a while since you two saw one another; you were both far too busy with the threat of the Stellaron Hunters coming to Xianzhou.

⇢ You were busy with matters concerning work; no matter whether or not literal criminals could be walking the streets, the world stops for no one.

⇢ Well, most especially because you were involved with the Realm-Keeping Commission. It kept you ridiculously occupied, so much to the point that you couldn’t even pick up your phone.

⇢ Many things were keeping you occupied: first was the clear issue of the well-hidden secret of Blade’s escape. Second were the strange visitors that Sushang had been lugging around, especially the one carrying around a coffin and… hitting enemies with it. Third was the investigation of the spread of mara within soldiers— the Cloud Knights had been bleeding more men than predicted, which only made it more difficult for them to handle the criminals.

“He’s quite suspicious, isn’t he?” You comment, pulling Sushang to the side. The young knight raises an eyebrow at your words. “Who?” “The fair-haired one,” You explain. “The one with the coffin.” “I thought of that, too,” Sushang nods. She then beams at you, “But I can handle this, [name]! Trust me— you don’t have to worry more than you already do. The Loufu General won’t be too happy to know you’re running on anxiety, you know?”

⇢ And of course, you greatly missed Jing Yuan. At first, it was a faint feeling of sadness that resided in your chest. Then, as the days went by, it only grew in intensity. Somehow, seeing happy pairs of Foxians walking outside left a bitter taste in your mouth.

⇢ However, you had to push those feelings to the side and needed to put all focus on doing your job— the determination of ending all that gets in the way kept you fueled. After all, the sooner you deal with work, the sooner you’d be reunited with him.

⇢ And when all things ceased— finally and for the better, too— you find yourself overly aware of just how much you really missed your beloved. His absence had made your side turn cold.

⇢ Not only that, but worries also started to wander into your head. Where is he? What had happened to him these past few days? He didn’t do anything reckless, did he?

⇢ Those questions, you thought, could be easily answered by the one junior you know you could trust: Yanqing. And there he was, wiping his sword clean of dirt on a pavilion. You approached him, raising a hand in acknowledgment as you call out his name. He looks up at you with a bright smile.

“The General…” Yanqing tilts his head, eyes wandering up as he thinks. Some grime was on the little boy’s cheek as well as his hand, but he paid them no attention, or perhaps he did not notice. Then, his expression lights up and he says, “I last saw him with Madam Yukong! They’re probably at the Starskiff Haven.” “Thanks, Yanqing,” You smile, one hand reaching out to away wipe the dirt on his face as you spoke. Yanqing’s hand quickly darts up his face, replacing yours. With a voice tinged with shame, he says, “You better hurry or you might miss him.”

⇢ When you arrived at Starskiff Haven, the docks were filled with other officials within the Sky-Faring Commission. You peeked between the crowd, looking for him— looking for a hint of that light hair, and straining your ears to pick up the sound of his voice.

⇢ It was difficult to look around. There were far too many people blocking your line of sight, and he was likely right up front, unconsciously commanding attention like he always has.

⇢ And so, you turned around, opting to wait for the crowds to dwindle instead.

⇢ As you turned around, you bumped into someone. Before you could apologize, realization dawned upon you. You open your mouth soundlessly, unsure of where to start.

“Looking for someone?” Jing Yuan says, a playful smile on his face. You quickly rushed in for a hug, engulfing him in your arms. He stumbles back a little in surprise, momentarily stunned before returning the embrace. “Missed me that much?” He teases you as you melt into his arms. “You have no idea.” You reply, holding him even tighter. A laugh escapes his lips as one of his hands combs through your hair. He breathes in deeply and replies in a voice low enough that only you can hear, “I missed you too.”

Blade

⇢ Worries filled your head the moment you heard that Blade was captured by the Cloud Knights.

⇢ Kafka was quick to wave it off when the news hit, laughing as she does so. It did little to dissuade your worries.

“Oh, Bladie’s fine,” She quickly says, her voice a little more gentle this time. “Don’t worry about it, [name]. It’s all going according to plan.” “Plan,” you incredulously echo. Kafka nods as she turns to one of the screens, projecting an image of the planet. “After all, he’s already gotten away.” “Huh?” You stand up, your chair dragging on the floor with a loud noise. “What’s he doing now, then?” The half-grin Kafka gives you answers none of your questions.

⇢ With that, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Kafka had already plotted to go to Xianzhou Loufu herself— something about fulfilling what Elio had foreseen. None of which you’re allowed to know, but the fact that she’d be there reassures you.

⇢ You find yourself resting a lot easier. You return to your duties, significantly less bothered.

⇢ …Until a certain someone lets it slip that Kafka has gotten captured by the Divination Commission’s Master Diviner.

⇢ The entire situation spelled trouble; Blade had a nasty habit of meddling in fights involving any other members of the Stellaron Hunters. Hell, that’s how you met him first. But not only that, you worried about what information the commission could read on Kafka, and what they could possibly do to her.

“I’ll come get her myself,” You grit your teeth. Sam laughs, “Hey, don’t be rash. It’s all going—” “According to plan,” You finish, irritation audible in your voice. “That’s what you’re going to say, right?” “…Going to be alright, then,” Sam offers a sleazy smile. “Better?”

⇢ Right as you were briskly walking to the teleporters— followed by Sam who refused to let you go— a loud noise rattles the headquarters and lights flicker on and off for a second before stabilizing once more.

⇢ You rush to the source of the noise and was met with the sight of him dusting his clothes off, clicking his tongue. Meanwhile, Kafka sat beside Silver Wolf, amused as she watches Blade move.

⇢ When Blade meets your eyes, his expression somewhat relaxes. But he doesn’t spare you a greeting as you unconsciously scan his person; your eyes narrow at the new set of bandages wrapped around his arm. He then walks out of the room, pushing past Sam.

⇢ Looking around and at the three hunters looking at you expectantly, you sigh and turn to follow Blade.

⇢ He quickly walks through the halls and disappears behind the automatic doors of his room. You hasten your steps, and when the doors open for you, he’s seated at the foot of his bed, in the progress of removing his top.

⇢ He silently glances up to look at you and his hands stop working on his clothes. Instead, he leans back a little, propping himself up with one elbow against the bed and his free hand motioning for you to come closer.

⇢ You follow him and find a seat on top of his lap. You wrap your arms around him, breathing out as you feel his warmth once more.

Blade’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer. A jolt of electricity moves through your spine as he moves lower to press kisses on your neck. He murmurs against your skin, “Missed me?” “Yes,” You whisper. You feel his mouth curve up in a smile at your reply. And he leaves it unsaid as he kisses you, his lips meeting yours; I missed you, too.

Gepard

⇢ From the very start, you understood what Gepard’s line of work meant and you admired him for it.

⇢ But there was also the fact that there were days that were truly rough for him. He is a skilled fighter but there were still days when he’d come home wounded and tired. And you knew that he always means to be careful– he hated to see you look so worried and distraught– but his work comes first before anything.

⇢ And with his position in his work, it was all the more riskier. ‘To fight for Belobog is an honor,’ they said, but it sure didn’t feel like one whenever Gepard comes home to you and you’d see him injured.

⇢ Fortunately, those days were sparse.

⇢ But suddenly, there were orders for the Silvermane Guards to be dispatched outside the city. Length of stay? Indefinite. They were to remain there until they’ve completely eliminated the threat of Automaton Beasts— machines that might as well be pests with the way they never seem to never run out.

⇢ You felt somewhat assured that Gepard can handle the threat; he told you things like these were a walk in the park for him.

⇢ It was the distance that troubled you, as well as the intense cold outside the city. You vividly remember your early teen years, when you’d curiously explore the vast, snowy plains and shivered as you moved.

“Be careful,” You told Gepard as his hand hovers over the doorknob. “Stay safe, alright?” Gepard throws a glance behind his shoulder and looks at you with a small smile. “I’ll try.” You give him an unamused scoff, which only makes the smile on his face grow. Then, he gives in and says, “I’ll contact you as much as I can.” Slowly, a tiny smile also appears on your face.

⇢ Days turn into a week. He’d occasionally call you at around dinner time, checking in on you and chatting about trivial matters. You’d ask about how his mission is going, and he’d tell you the same thing he usually does: “It’s going great. Don’t worry, [name].”

⇢ But one night, the clock ticks past dinner time and you stare hard enough at your phone that you could almost launch it flying with just your gaze.

⇢ After a while, you pick up your phone— it works two ways, doesn’t it? But it only rings, and rings, and rings.

⇢ You told yourself to not worry about it too much; he was probably simply occupied for the night. He deserved and earned his rest.

⇢ Until it extends to four nights of silence. Four nights of not hearing his voice, not knowing what’s happened to him. Nothing.

⇢ At this point, you had wanted to march right out of the city walls once more, just like what you had done before. But you snapped back to reality the more you thought about it— you didn’t want to give the guards another thing to worry about, another to look out for.

⇢ Instead, all you could do is sigh discontentedly as you stare into your phone, waiting and waiting and waiting.

⇢ Seven days had passed since you last heard from Gepard. An entire week of waiting for news– waiting for anything at all– to tell you that he’s alright.

⇢ Then, as you walk through the city to quickly shop for more rice, you overheard a conversation between some guards within the city.

“—the captain.” “How long?” “I have no idea. Apparently, they’ve run into one of the biggest ones and sent his subordinates back to camp with one foot in the grave.” “So he’s fighting it alone?” “One at a time, yeah, I think. Chipping away at it. But it has been like, what? A week? Who knows how much longer it’ll be?” “Right,” The guard nods. “It could take him a year if he just kept going by himself instead of mobilizing his juniors.” “You know the captain. He’s not that type of person.”

⇢ You stumble back home, sick to your stomach. Gepard– the sweet, kind, caring man that he is and you fell for– had been fighting alone, all for the sake of his subordinates.

⇢ Right as you were about to get your phone to call Serval, the person you know would understand, you saw some guards and paramedics within the city walk in packs through the window.

⇢ Curiously, you peek out. Suddenly, hope and dread both fill your stomach as you see lines of guards– Gepard’s subordinates– start to litter the streets and go en route to the nearest medical bay.

⇢ You quickly rush outside your home and trail behind them, anxious to see their captain, your Gepard.

You pushed through the other soldiers, determined to make your way to him. He stood there, looking worse for wear. Yet, he stood steadfast. It was as if the wounds all over him didn’t exist. Instead, he ordered the paramedics to take his subordinates first. Your heart aches as you watch him and found yourself unable to hold back any longer— you pushed past another line of soldiers with some effort and broke through. With that, you start rushing toward your lover. When he catches sight of you, his walking first speeds up, until he starts rushing to you as well. And it was as if the world stopped moving when he catches you in his arms, engulfing you in a tight embrace. He cradles your head when you mutter, “I thought… I was so…” “It’s alright,” Gepard replies in a soothing voice. “I’m here. I’m here now.”

#maddie's corner!#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #gepard x reader #! etude

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duskiers · 2 months

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Waves of Revelation

> percy jackson / reader

> During a sunset walk along Camp Half-Blood's shore, you and Percy share a heartfelt conversation about the future amidst the chaos of your demigod lives.

‿︵‿︵⊹‿︵‿︵⊹‿︵⊹‿︵🌇︵‿⊹︵‿⊹︵‿︵‿⊹︵‿︵

The summer air was warm, carrying the scent of pine and the distant sea, as you walked beside percy along the shores of Camp Half-Blood. The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, casting a soft glow over everything it touched. This moment felt different, suspended in time, as if the universe had slowed its spin just for the two of you.

Lately, every glance, every laugh shared between you and Percy had begun to weave a complex tapestry of unspoken emotions. It was in the way his eyes sought yours across the crowded dining pavilion, how his hand brushed against yours with electric awareness, and in the quiet moments like these, when words seemed unnecessary.

"Do you ever think about what life would be like after all this?" Percy broke the silence, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you weren't used to hearing from him.

You pondered his question, watching the way the last rays of the sun danced in his sea-green eyes. "Sometimes" you admitted. "But it's hard to imagine a future when every day is a battle."

Percy stopped walking, turning to face you fully. The intensity in his gaze was enough to still your heart. "I think about it...about us" he confessed, his words sending a jolt of surprise through you.

"Us?" The question slipped out, a mixture of hope and uncertainty lacing your tone.

"Yeah," he said, a half-smile forming on his lips as he took a hesitant step closer. "I know things are crazy right now, with gods and monsters always on our doorstep. But when I think about the future, I can't picture it without you."

Your breath caught in your throat at his admission. The feelings you'd been trying to keep at bay, the ones you feared acknowledging, suddenly surged forward, demanding to be recognized.

"Percy, I—" You started, but the words tangled up, a mess of emotions you couldn't sort through quickly enough.

"Do you really need me to say it? Fine, I love you. Happy now?" Percy's words were rushed, a challenge in his eyes, but you saw the truth behind them, the earnestness that he tried to mask with his typical bravado.

A laugh bubbled up from your chest, not from amusement but from the sheer relief and joy that filled you at his confession. "Yes, I'm happy" you said, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. "Because I love you too, Percy Jackson. I was just waiting for you to notice."

His grin was like the dawn breaking after a long night, bright and full of promise. Percy closed the distance between you, his hands framing your face gently as he leaned down to capture your lips with his. The kiss was a seal, an unspoken vow made under the watchful eyes of the gods and stars alike.

As you pulled away, breathless and with a newfound lightness, you realized that no matter what the future held, you and Percy would face it together. The unknown didn't seem so daunting with him by your side.

#꒰ ঌ 🪧 ໒ ꒱#percy jackson comfort #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #pjo x reader #pjo fluff #pjo

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hiraeth-sonder · 25 days

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Wistful Moon - Changting Pavilion

Jingyuan x Reader

We all have to leave one day, he just hopes it won't be too soon

//This wasn't meant to make me cry, why did I cry writing this. This is probably all over the place. Poem is 离思 by 元稹.

曾经沧海难为水, 除却巫山不是云

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For you to so freely partake in drink should have tipped Jingyuan off to your emotional state much earlier than it did. Albeit, when you were under such lovely lighting and garbed in attire he could only, pathetically, describe as undoubtedly becoming, he found it hard to think of little else, caught up in the sight of your very being.

Your fingers wrapped around your cup of wine, curling into cold ceramic and bringing it to your painted lips, soft and inviting. His eyes keenly follow along the movement, watches your throat bob as you swallow, how when you lower your cup, a bright smile pulls across your face in response to something someone said. He does not think there is anything more beautiful than that smile, and though you have always told him you hated how wide it is, how you keep smiling with too much teeth and how it always happens when you least like it to, Jingyuan adores that smile of yours. It is yours, so wonderfully yours and so wonderfully a symbol of your unadulterated joy. And whenever he sees even the slightest hint of it, that flush that always threatens to expose him starts to tinge his cheeks.

You turn briefly to take a glance at him, that smile of yours still on your lips and he feels it once more. If only for a moment, you turn away and he does not know whether to thank or curse the aeons for having that sight so fleetingly.

Another refill of your cup, you drink once more, then another refill. You have come to your fourth cup since the wine has been served, and he worries that at this rate, you will be passed out drunk before the event ends. Jingyuan moves to take your cup away from you, something you respond with a non-committal glare before you slump by his side. Resting your head against his shoulder, he watches your eyes scan the room absentmindedly, as though looking for something, someone.

It is when his lieutenant returns to your side that he properly comes to the revelation of your drinking. He had just received his military commission, and for someone such as you who has spent the past few years practically raising him as your own, this was a far earlier call than most parental figures experience. The sudden realisation that one day, you may no longer see him at the breakfast table with his horrid bed hair, no longer have him begging for food and pocket change, they surely were not thoughts anyone would like to have so soon (he is not sure whether it is just you feeling as so).

Your eyes seem to focus on the child’s presence, waving him over as a milder smile now decorated your lips. Yanqing comes to your side, and in a move he clearly did not expect, you wrap an arm around him to pull him close to you, his standing form pressed against your seated one.

“Qing’er, you’re so big…” You sigh, speech just the slightest melancholic. Reminiscing of days long gone, he thinks he can catch the hint of tears welling at your eyes. “I remember when you were still so small, you always loved it when I would carry you around.”

Yanqing’s cheeks flush at this comment, especially in public, and he splutters to retort back, to say something to brush past the sappy notion. Still, you do not let that stop you, turning your gaze to face him entirely as you hum, “I’m so proud of you, y’know that?”

He only nods, and though it is clear he does not quite know how to respond to your sentiments, he lets you hold him just a little longer, his hand on yours.

Jingyuan watches on, the quiet moment enhanced by the fact that with so many eyes looking away, the two of you had only looked all the more poignant. He wonders how long this has been weighing on your mind, how much it ached you to keep it inside in fear of the child’s reaction. And though he would love for nothing more than to comfort you, what you needed was not him but to reaffirm Yanqing’s presence.

It is not long until the festivities die down and the two of you are left with only each other as company. Now certainly allowed more freedom than before, you lay in his embrace, his arms wrapped around you as the Luofu’s simulated moon hangs high in the sky.

“He’s so big now,” Your voice is hushed, barely a whisper and seemingly meant for only your ears.

“That he is,” He hums, feeling your fingers play with his hand as though distracting yourself from speaking more. A soft, practically inaudible breath escapes him, his eyes remain on you as he murmurs, “My love, what has gotten you so sentimental?”

There is no response out of you for a moment, merely the sound of your breathing, just the slightest laboured and all too preoccupied with keeping your emotions under lock and key. Yet when he meets your eyes, the dewlets clinging to your lashes and the strained quality of your voice only tortures that heart of his that so ardently belongs to you.

“I hate thinking about the day you’re no longer with us, or I’m no longer with you two.”

How can he bear to think of such a future as well? Though the two of you are more than aware that it may one day come (after all, neither of you are green in your years), it has been a thought he pushes away every time it surfaces. He has plans for if he is to become mara-struck, plans for if he goes peacefully, but for you, it is different. He would have to strike you down should the former occur, but he does not know whether he would be able to live with it.

So he pretends it will not happen. He pretends that the two of you have all the time in this world, all the time to watch the moon and lay together side by side.

All the time in the world for him to memorise your face so that if one day it should really happen, he may be reminded of the joy you brought him, and not the grief your passing will cause.

“All the better for us to spend what time we have together,” Jingyuan mutters, pulling you closer to him as he nuzzles against you.

You sniff, that smile of yours, bittersweet but still, always, so beautiful presents itself to this world. Your eyes flutter open and close, and eventually he is left with nothing but the slow rise and descent of your chest, soft breathing his lullaby for the night. He traces along the curve of your jaw, the wrinkles of your lips, the marks upon your face, everything that made you.

You are still clinging to him, so tightly it was almost as though you were afraid that he would leave when your eyes opened in the morning. He does not blame you.

Looking to the moon, he prays, the first time he has done so sincerely, so desperately, that the three of you will not be ripped apart so soon, that at the very least, make it so that he will be the last to go once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

取次花丛 �� 回顾, 半缘修道半缘君

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan #jingyuan x reader

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author-morgan · 10 months

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Title: Riverside Rating: M Pairing: Harald Finehair x fem!Reader (and Halfdan the Black) Summary: Harald Finehair may be a fool, but at least he has his brother, and at least he has you. ❤️plot bunny that's been collecting dust for two years by @mrsragnarlodbrok ❤️

down by the river by the boats, where everybody goes to be alone

“YOUR BROTHER IS a fool,” you remark, watching Harald Finehair slip away with the princess who once promised to be his queen—the woman whose husband had only just been murdered in the early hours of the morn. Halfdan the Black watches his brother too, lips twitching as he lifts his cup of ale, taking a short quaff of the weak brew. He’ll be glad to leave England—an army of this size meant dwindling supplies, game, and ever-weakening ale and mead.

He picks off another hunk of meat from a roast pheasant. “Is that meant to be news?” Halfdan asks in turn, smiling as he flicks his stringy blond hair aside and out of his eyes—his dark gaze flitting back to you. Harald’s always been a fool when it comes to women and love, and Halfdan doubts time and age will ever change that.

“Halfdan,” you chide. Harald is a fool—a fool for thinking Ellisif would wait for him, a fool for killing Vik so crassly in the heart of the camp. You both know he is, but watching Princess Ellisif slip away with her husband’s killer makes you uneasy. Grief and the thought of vengeance would not have left her mind yet. And such things can drive people to act in unpredictable ways. “You don’t think it’s odd she wishes to seek a private audience with him only a few hours after he killed her husband?”

Halfdan raises his brow—the blue-black ink of the tattoo on his temple and forehead twitches and wrinkles. At the moment, he’s more content with filling his belly and entertaining your company than fretting over his brother, yet you won’t let the subject rest so easily, and deep down, Halfdan knows you are right, as is the feeling of dread in his liver. “Had it been me, the thought of retribution would not yet be gone, nor the fog of dolor.”

You make a convincing case, and with a sighing frown, Halfdan pushes away from the table and you, heading toward Harald’s tent—hand resting on the hilt of his sword, knowing already he will have to serve as his brother’s protector once more. A moment later, Halfdan emerges from his brother’s pavilion. The sword in his hand is coated with blood, bright and red. And it would seem, after all, he knew women far better than his brother—or at least how to listen to you.

He frees a cloth from his belt and slides it down the blade, cleaning it with a single long swipe as he looks at you, watching and waiting. Halfdan doesn’t have to say anything as he approaches for you to know, but regardless, your lips quirk upward. “Told you,” you declare, and he makes a low sound of agreement from the back of his throat, taking the cup of ale you offer. You knew Ellisif would not have so easily nor quickly forgiven Harald for his transgression, especially after not upholding her promise to wait for marriage.

Harald’s curses and fit of rage ring out in the brisk air. You know there’s little that can soothe his heart and pride, but if anyone in the Ragnarsson encampment can make an earnest attempt, it is you—Halfdan knows this too. “I’ll see to him,” you breathe, taking one last drink of ale. Halfdan grips your arm before you can go to his brother and leans close, offering a soft, quick kiss over too soon.

THE RIVER FLOWS slowly, given its breadth near the encampment of the Sons of Ragnar—a hundred longships are pushed up against the banks and moored in the water. Together, you and Harald walk along the water’s edge, heading north, where fewer ships and wandering eyes and ears are. The blood on his hands and chest is nigh dry, and it makes his red woolen tunic stick to him and stiffens his silver-tinged beard.

Harald Finehair looks at you but cannot dispel what you must think of him, of these circumstances—your expression is only a cool mix of solicitude and what he thinks is annoyance. Yet again, he finds himself failing to understand the mind and heart of a woman—one he has known since childhood, no less. “My brother is lucky,” Harald admits, feeling a spike of jealousy stab at him as he thinks about you and Halfdan, “to have only ever loved you.” But had he ever truly loved Ellisif beyond his desire for her beauty? Even he is not sure of the answer.

You stop near the prowl of one of Jarl Olavsson’s ships—his shields and sails marked by white and dark green—and stare at Harald, aghast and confused by his insinuation. “Do I no longer have your love?” You ask, reaching for him and the leather ties at the neck of his tunic.

“I had thought–” his voice trails off as he looks at the flock of blackbirds flying overhead, unsure if it is a sign from the gods or just an ill omen. He lets you draw him nearer, but it’s only when the flat of your hand connects with his bloody cheek that his gaze and attention return to you—his stormy blue eyes filled with bewilderment and indignation. He stares at you, nostrils flared.

“No, Harald!” You’ve finally grown exasperated by his foolishness—you could tolerate his laments about love and marriage, but to nigh let himself be killed by a recreant woman under such circumstances? “You didn’t think!” You tell him, and Harald steps back, hands curling to fists at his sides. He needs to hear this, though, if not from his brother, then from you. “And if you did, it was with the wrong head.” The same head all men think with first when it comes to women.

“You speak to a king,” he reminds you, puffing out his chest—a weak reply, and you both know it.

You shake your head and reach for him, hands settling on either side of his blood-spattered face—thumbs following the blue-black scrollwork of the tattoos on his cheeks. “And I am also speaking to one of my oldest friends,” you remind him. King or no, Harald and his brother are among your oldest and dearest friends—they could be little more than farmers or simple whalers, and you would think no less of them nor love them less. There’s a shift in Harald’s expression then, as though he realizes the error of his ways in disregarding your and Halfdan’s counsel, and hubris fades to humility. “One whom I care for and love very much.” Love, the word catches him off-guard. Then an ephemeral smile returns to grace your lips. “Even if he is pigheaded at times.”

He forces down the growing knot in his throat. “My brother–” Harald starts, but you press your fingertips to his weathered lips, shushing him and chasing away any apprehension or fear of driving a rift between the three of you with what comes next. “Halfdan knows,” you tell Harald with airy unconcern—fingers slipping down to comb through his silver-tinged wiry beard. Your trysts had never been clandestine, even before whatever this unspoken thing with his brother began before the first raid on Paris. “He’s very astute,” you remark, the corner of your lips quirking upward again. “You could stand to learn a thing to two.”

He huffs, then goes to the river, shrugging off his tunic, and kneels at the water’s edge, splashing the cold water on his face and chest—scrubbing the drying blood of the woman he once intended to marry. He stares at his reflection, shoulders falling forward, accepting his ill-fated pursuit of marriage and defeat, alas. “I’ve been a fool,” he grumbles. You crouch next to him, dipping your hand in the river to help wash the blood from his shoulders and the back of his neck, humming your agreement—gladdened to know it is no longer a whispered secret between you and Halfdan. “You’re not supposed to agree with me,” he admonishes, mirth slipping back into his tone.

There’s a scar on his shoulder, and without thought, you lean toward him, placing the gentlest and quickest of kisses on the raised patch of silvery skin. You can recall how he and Halfdan have gotten most of their scars, but the history of this small mark evades you right now. When you meet his eyes, you see him staring at you with a look of raw hunger and desperation you’re entirely unprepared for, and it sends a wave of heat washing over you. But he’s so gentle when he handles you—even in all his lingering anger and hurt.

He holds your chin until his thumb swipes across your flushed cheek—always touching you like you’re some fragile, precious thing and not a shieldmaiden—and then his lips part, and he exhales a shaky breath, waiting for your permission, spoken or otherwise. You give it with a breathy sigh of his name. Harald. His warm breath hits your cheek, followed by the faint tickle of his scraggly beard at your jaw before his lips are fully on yours. “Let me have you.” His plea is soft against your mouth—and you cannot deny him.

Skirts rucked up around your waist, Harald grips your hips, drawing you closer to him until his wool and linen-clad thigh presses between yours. His touch is fervent—hot palms, calloused from years of battle, scrape over the bare skin they touch. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before kissing you—languid and soft. Your hands grasp at his back to pull his chest to your own. And then he fumbles to loosen his belt, but you knock away his hands, and Harald curses and groans when your hand slides into his undone britches, fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock—stroking him.

Your stomach flutters as his fingers caress you briefly, fleetingly—but gone far too soon. Your hips move towards his touch, but now is not the time for drawn-out caresses and teasing. In truth, he's not focused on your pleasure but more on his desire.

Harald pushes forward, rocking his hips slowly until his cock is fully sheathed inside the warmth of your cunt, and his hips meet yours. You gasp, somewhere between a whine and moan, head tipping back, and Harald takes the chance to press his lips to the base of your neck. He’s gentle as he trails a hand down your side and holds your waist—he and Halfdan have always been two sides of the same coin as lovers.

You lay back—letting him do as he pleases. He needs this moment, this release, far more than you do. His thrusts start slow, lazy almost, as though you’ve all the time in the world—like you’re back in Tamdrup on a spring night in a patch of wildflowers or bale of loose straw in a stable, not lying on a muddy English riverbank on the verge of another battle—not knowing if tomorrow will be the day Valhalla beckons you home.

He looks down at you—splayed beneath him and his gut twists with a sickening realization. I’ve been a fool, Harald thinks again, cradling your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb pressed against your parted lips, chasing a woman who could never love me. But you. It did not matter what misfortunes or victories the gods bestowed upon him. You were always there—never faltering from your place at his and Halfdan’s side. He’s only ashamed not to have realized or acted sooner.

Your legs spread wider to welcome him, squeezing at his shoulders to urge him to move faster. Every push and pull of his hips brings him deeper inside you. Harald pants at your ear, his breathing ragged and strained as his pace falters—thrusts growing quicker and rougher as he seeks release. Beneath your palms, the muscles in his back ripple, contracting with each thrust. His lips find yours again, and you pull him down closer until his bare chest presses against the rumpled wool of your dress bodice—nails scraping across his shoulders and the patchwork of tattoos on his shoulder blades.

The look in Harald’s eyes is nigh unsettling—a mix of emotion you do not wish to think about in this moment of lust and carnality—and you squeeze at his biceps, urging him to move faster, and when his trance breaks, he obliges. He breathes hushed praises against your neck and strokes a thumb over the racing pulse in your neck as he rolls his hips up into yours—strokes long and deep.

You whine and squirm for him, grinding your hips into his. The next time he moves, his cock strikes the place inside you that makes you cry out without thinking, and your toes start to curl—he does it again and again, thrice over. “Harald.” He works himself deeper still, pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through you or the way your muscles tense—cunt squeezing his cock tighter. His breathy, open-mouth kisses grow sloven as you fumble to keep in rhythm, your movements slack—distracted by the fog of ecstasy in your head.

Breath hot against your lips, his eyes drift shut in unison with yours. Behind closed eyes, all that triumphs is the feel of your bodies sinking into each other. He will not last much longer. Harald barely manages a coherent rasp of your name, teeth gnashing, when his entire body shivers and he stills deep, deep inside, cock twitching.

His livid eyes are dark, like a stormy sea when they open once more, and there’s a crease between his brows that you have a yearning impulse to kiss away—and so you do, and in the wake of your lips, you smooth your fingertips over his brow. “I do love you, Harald,” you tell him—a breathless whisper—and suddenly, the knot in his throat and the offbeat feeling in his heart is back. “Just as I love Halfdan.”

He says nothing, only rests his forehead against your shoulder and shivers when your hand runs along his back, finding his dark braid to run your fingers along. But there’s a new dampness on your flesh—tears for love lost and love found.

HIS TEMPER IS quelled upon returning to the encampment, even if his heart has yet to mend. Halfdan rises from his spot at one of the fires, leaving the waning conversation with Björn Ironside when he sees you and his brother approach. The whispers around the camp of what happened between Harald, Vik, and Ellisif have already faded with new discussions of the army’s next move in Mercia—steadily creeping closer to Wessex and retribution upon King Ecbert for his part in Ragnar’s death. Harald swallows his pride and glimpses you before turning his attention to Halfdan. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “Yet again, I owe you my life.”

“I’ll always watch your back,” Halfdan replies, pressing a cup of ale into Harald’s hand before clasping his shoulder—then his gaze flits to you, and he smiles, a glimmer shining in his dark eyes. “But next time we tell you to kill someone, you should listen, yeah?” Harald shakes his head, looking down into the cup of ale with a dry laugh. You both told him to rid himself of Ellisif before setting sail to England. He should have listened then—knows he was a fool not to have. But once more, it is the three of you, and maybe that is how the gods always intended it to be.

[Harald & Halfdan taglist: @ahotmesswithprivilege / @alicedopey / @certifiedlittleshit / @charming-merlin / @elluvians / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @gearhead66 / @gossamarnie / @hc-geralt-23 / @kaexiao / @midnightmuze / @moonlightsspirit / @n0sferatus / @naaladareia / @queenfinehair / @queenyalo / @savagemickey03 / @xinyourdreamsx / @yalos-writing ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Vikings taglist, or any other taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

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thaliagrayce · 2 months

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Tactical Improvisation

Link: ao3 Pairing: Jason Grace/Nico di Angelo Fandom: Percy Jackson & the Olympians Tags: Canon Divergence - Cupid Scene AU, Humor

Word Count: 3,057

Summary:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico interrupted, stance and voice defiant. He held his sword at the ready as dust and wind whipped around him. Jason tried to vault over a column that had collapsed in between the two of them, but a fresh clump of rubble was hurled his way by the invisible god when he got too close to it. YES YOU DO, SON OF— “Jason already knows I’m gay.”

(or; Nico and Jason follow the rules of improv and "yes, and—" their way into a different outcome in Split.)

“Enough games!” Nico shouted at the invisible god, anger and pain writ plain across his face. “Show yourself!”

Jason kept his eyes open, desperate for any hint of where Cupid might be hiding in these ruins. As it had every time, the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. How were they supposed to get Diocletian’s Scepter from this guy if he didn’t ever show his face?

POOR NICO DI ANGELO. The god’s voice was tinged with disappointment. YOU LIE TO EVEN YOURSELF. HOW DO YOU EXPECT—

YES YOU DO, SON OF—

“Jason already knows I’m gay.”

Several emotions washed over Jason in succession, too quickly for him to place any of them. They left behind a lingering sense of panic. What? He wanted to look over at Nico, but that would give away the ruse. If they were to avoid angering the god further, Jason had to appear as if none of this was new to him. He kept his face straight as he tried (and failed) to ignore the confused and confusing squirming in his gut. This is no big deal, he tried to tell himself.

But was it? Nico probably wasn’t the first gay person Jason had met, was he? Nobody else came to mind, but that really wasn’t saying a lot. Nothing came to mind for the first fifteen and a half years of Jason’s life. He’d probably met another person—gods nonwithstanding—who liked the same sex, so this nervous excitement was completely irrational.

WHAT.

Oh, right. The quest. A god had just been lied to, and Jason needed to help sell the lie if the two of them wanted to get out of here unscathed. He wasn’t the world’s best liar, but Cupid was being real pushy. The first thing Jason had ever known for certain about himself after waking up on that bus was that he hated bullies.

“He told me.” Jason dodged a falling piece of rubble that had been teetering on top of a nearby pillar. Other than that, the battlefield had mostly calmed down. “I already knew.” Jason was sweaty. He didn’t know if it was the normal amount of mid-battle sweatiness.

YOU WHAT?

If Cupid stayed confused and kept talking, Jason and Nico could probably pinpoint where he was and get close to him without having to dodge monster arrows and rocks the size of kitchen appliances. Jason just had to keep him talking.

“Why are you being so weird about this? I never thought you would be a homophobe.”

The ground shuddered, and for a second, Jason thought that what he said had upset Nico. He’d seen the crack outside the dining pavilion at Camp Half Blood that Nico made when he got too upset, so he knew that Nico was more than capable of causing tremors. When Jason looked over, though, his questing partner looked almost exactly like he always did—serious expression, ready stance, black eyes alert and scanning the surroundings. The only hint that he might be under any sort of duress was that his face was paler than usual.

The weird squirming in Jason’s stomach came back. It made sense that Nico was gay, actually. He really was very pretty. It wasn’t a thought Jason had ever had before, but it was no less true for its novelty. His face wasn’t the type that you would see on polished magazines or blockbuster movies, but it had character. A unique sort of draw that made it hard to look away. Gay guys were supposed to be pretty, right?

The ground shook even harder, and both Jason and Nico stumbled.

HOMOPHOBE?!

Right. Jason tore his eyes away from Nico and fruitlessly tried to search for the now-probably-angry god.

“Yeah. You’re the only one making a big deal of this.” Nico’s voice had a bit of a waver to it that made Jason want to be over there to support him—like any good quest mate would—but he had to focus on other things right now. He could check up on Nico when they got back to the ship. Maybe they could actually have a conversation, get to know each other a bit. They were teammates now, after all.

The thought set off the squirming again.

YOU’RE LYING. YOU STILL HAVEN’T ACCEPTED YOURSELF, NICO DI ANGELO.

“I’m trying!” Nico snapped. The grass around his feet started to wilt and shrivel as his lip curled into a snarl. “Clearly! Isn’t this what you wanted? I told Jason. I’m making an effort.”

YOU CHOSE TO TELL THE ONLY PERSON ON THE SHIP LESS IN TOUCH WITH HIS EMOTIONS THAN YOURSELF.

Jason was momentarily blindsided by the sudden conversational pivot. For just a second, he was offended enough to forget he was speaking to a god.

“Wha— Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

PERFECT LITTLE SOLDIER, ALWAYS LIVING UP TO EVERYONE’S EXPECTATIONS. DO YOU KNOW YOUR OWN DESIRES, CHAMPION OF JUNO? DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT TO LOOK FOR? MY BELOVED PSYCHE RISKED EVERYTHING IN THE NAME OF LOVE. IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO ATONE FOR HER LACK OF FAITH. AND YOU—WHAT HAVE YOU RISKED IN MY NAME?

“That’s not fair, I had my mind wiped.” The question shook him. Did he know what he wanted? He’d been going on autopilot basically since he woke up at the Grand Canyon, always thinking about the next step of the quest or what his friends needed. It had never seemed important to look inward. Other people came first, both in safety and in happiness. That was just how good leaders thought.

Wasn’t it?

“Lay off him,” Nico called out. “Weren’t you focused on me?”

YOU APPARENTLY DON’T NEED MY HELP, WHY SHOULD I FOCUS ON YOU?

“You call this help?”

SOMETIMES WE NEED TO CONFRONT OUT FAULTS IN ORDER TO KNOW OUR DESIRES.

“I’m fine, actually, sir.” Jason adjusted his grip on his sword. His hands were sweating. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s no need.”

SO YOU WILL STAY IN A RELATIONSHIP BUILT ON LIES AND TRY TO CONVINCE YOURSELF INTO LOVE?

Cupid was being a jerk, but he had a point. Jason had never really felt at ease in his relationship with Piper. He’d chalked it up to butterflies, but maybe he was wrong. Were butterflies supposed to make you feel anxious?

“I have no truth to act as counterpoint. If you know of anything I could do to get my memories back, maybe—”

Jason was interrupted by wave after wave of visions. No, memories. He never saw himself, but he knew instinctively that they were his. They felt right, they slotted into place in a way that some of the stories he’d heard about his past exploits as Praetor never did.

He was sitting on top of a wardrobe and hugging his knees to his chest in a room lined with empty beds—the barracks in Camp Jupiter, he knew in a flash. He was alone in the room until the door creaked open and a boy—young man, maybe—stepped in, clearly looking for something. He looked to be about eighteen or nineteen and had dark brown wavy hair and medium brown skin. When he finally spotted Jason’s hiding place, his dark eyes softened in a gentle sort of smile.

Jason remembered this. He remembered this. He’d been up there because it was nearing Halloween and some of the older legionaries had taken over the barracks commons to watch a scary movie. They’d goaded him into staying with them for most of it, but he got up partway through with the excuse that he had to use the bathroom and just… stayed away. This young man was a legacy of Ceres named Hadi. He was a cool older kid, well-respected among his peers and widely admired by the younger legionnaires. And here he was, holding his hand out to eleven-year-old Jason Grace, who got scared by some dumb movie and hid on top of a wardrobe.

“Hey, Jason. Come on down from there, I need some help making scones.” He’d held Jason’s hand for stability when Jason flew down and squeezed it once before letting go. It had made Jason feel special to be singled out like this, even though he knew that Hadi was just doing it to make him feel better after the movie. He didn’t really need help with the scones, either—Hadi was probably the best baker in all of New Rome—but having something to do in a brightly-lit kitchen kept Jason’s mind off of the gory movie. He’d gotten batter on his cheek at some point and Hadi laughed when he pointed it out, his eyes all scrunched up and his smile radiant and—

Ba-thump, went Jason’s heart.

He was on the Field of Mars. The name came back to him the instant that he saw it sprawling before him, well-packed dirt and sporadic grass and a looming fortress that Jason somehow knew had been built just that morning. They were getting ready to play Siege, and Centurion Jason was instructing his troops on strategy for the game, but he kept stuttering and messing up.

Names of legionnaires came flooding back to Jason as he looked across the soldiers in his memory, but one stuck out in particular. Michael Kahale was a brand new recruit for the First Cohort and he was clearly paying attention when his commanding officer spoke, because Jason had never been more aware of someone’s eyes on him in his life. He accidentally looked Michael’s way again—dark eyes trained on him, dark hair just long enough to ruffle in the wind—and stumbled over his sentence. Some of the older legionnaires were starting to look concerned. This was incredibly out-of-character for Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, nearly longest-standing member of the legion.

Finally, Jason’s co-Centurion—Gwendolyn, her name was Gwendolyn—took mercy on him and took over the rest of the briefing. After it was done, she’d turned to him with concern.

“Are you feeling okay, Jason?”

Michael Kahale was still looking their way. Jason could feel the heat rise on his face and his heart trip in his chest. He managed some sort of response—the memory was murky—and took off flying to scout the enemy lines. Nobody could look at him up here, concerned colleagues or beautiful boys.

He woke up on a bus holding the hand of an objectively pretty girl and the biggest emotion he felt was confusion. He let go of her hand almost immediately, and evaded when she tried to take it back. The entire morning was confusing and he barely knew his own name and these two people that he’d never met before were claiming to be his best friends and all he knew for certain was that he didn’t belong here.

There was a boy along with them on the trip that rubbed Jason the wrong way instantly. He caught and held Jason’s attention. Later, Jason would put it down to battle senses and his instinct knowing a monster before he remembered that monsters existed, but for now…

Dylan was an arrogant jerk with a perfect smile and brilliant teeth. His hair was dark and curly and meticulously styled. He had a lean, athletic build that he wore in a way that made it clear he knew how to use the muscle he had—maybe part of some sports team or another, or maybe just active. Jason probably glared at him for longer than he needed to.

He didn’t care for Dylan a single bit, but still had one standout thought when the monster revealed his true form as a ventus: If angels could be evil, they would look exactly like this. The thought hadn’t struck Jason as strange at the time. He was starting to re-think that.

He was on a ship, surrounded by nothing but waves on either side. He faced the crow’s nest, where a boy stood by himself, looking out over the sea. His dark hair and too-big black shirt billowed around him in the wind. The boy was new here, and he was almost always alone. He intrigued Jason; why was he up there? Why had he gone on his quest alone? What motivated him to do something so dangerous? How did he survive?

Jason took a step into the air, and Nico di Angelo turned to look at him. Deep brown eyes flashed in the sunlight and Jason felt some sort of jolt in his gut, something he had written off as nerves about being so close to the son of Hades. The look on his face was guarded, like he expected the worst from Jason’s approach.

And that was the most novel part. Jason didn’t remember much, but he got the feeling he wasn’t used to having to work for someone’s attention and trust. Whether he liked it or not, a son of Jupiter drew the spotlight and the crowd. And yet, here was Nico. Alone. Guarded. Mistrustful.

Jason didn’t quite trust him yet, either, but he wanted to. Loneliness wasn’t unfamiliar to Jason, despite how frequently he was surrounded by people. He could see that same loneliness in Nico. He wanted to break through his guard, to be trusted. He wanted it with a ferocity he wasn’t used to.

It must have been something he was familiar with before his mind wipe, he’d thought at the time. Probably, he just liked making sure everyone on the team felt welcome. He dismissed any strange feelings and thoughts and kept moving, determined to actually hold a conversation this time.

“Okay!” Jason fought through the fog of memory, panic constricting his throat and making him too loud. “We’re caught up! I remember these memories now, Lord Cupid.”

LOVE DEMANDS HONESTY, BOY. HONESTY DEMANDS CLARITY. HAVE THESE MEMORIES GIVEN YOU CLARITY?

Jason glanced over at Nico, who turned out to be staring directly at him. His mouth was hanging open just a little bit. Jason snapped his eyes forward once again and had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t the only one who had seen that embarrassing movie reel of memories. It was great to know more about himself and his past, but Jason was starting to feel a little too known.

Oh gods, Nico had seen that last one.

Nothing to be done about it now but keep moving. Jason cleared his throat.

“Yes, Lord Cupid. I think I understand what you’re telling me.”

AND HOW WILL YOU EMBRACE THIS HONESTY?

Jason tried not to wince. “I… should probably break up with Piper, shouldn’t I?”

Cupid appeared right in front of him. He was beautiful—maybe not send his wife through harrowing trials because she dared to look upon his face beautiful, but strikingly pretty nonetheless—in a way that felt familiar. He had wavy black hair that reminded Jason of Hadi, and Michael Kahale’s attentive dark eyes, and a build that looked remarkably similar to Evil Dylan’s. Jason couldn’t manage to look at him for very long, and it had nothing to do with Cupid’s godly nature.

“That would be a good start, son of Jupiter.” He held out the scepter for Jason to take.

Nico picked his way toward them as the handoff took place, and Cupid turned his attention to him.

“Don’t think I believe your ruse, son of Hades. I let you off easy this time.”

The look Nico gave him wasn’t a glare, but it walked a razor wire to becoming one. “Your restraint is noted, Lord Cupid. May we go?”

Cupid snorted, obviously dissatisfied with that answer, but let it slide. “Yes, you may go. Remember my lessons, boys.” And in a puff of wind, he was gone. Jason was left alone in the ruins of a Roman palace with Nico di Angelo, who took a few steps closer to him.

That squirming in his gut was back.

Jason stared down at the scepter in his hands. It was longer than he had expected, about three feet of ivory with carvings so worn Jason couldn’t quite make out what they were originally intended to be. Three gold eagles held up a polished black orb that showed a distorted reflection of its surroundings. Jason studied the distended columns and his own warped face in favor of having to look anywhere else.

“That guy was an asshole,” Nico broke the tense silence. The derisive tone of voice and the words themselves were sudden and unexpected enough to startle a laugh out of Jason.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “he really was.” Jason looked at Nico’s reflection in the polished sphere on top of the scepter.

Dark, wavy hair. Big dark eyes. Lean but athletic build. He was shorter than Jason, which most of the other boys in the memory blast hadn’t been, but Jason thought he might actually like that better. And there was something more there, something about his bearing or the way he carried himself—Jason saw him standing alone on deck and he’d felt something resonate inside.

Not the line of thought to go down. He shook his head.

“Thank you for telling me. About yourself, I mean,” Jason clarified when Nico’s reflection in the scepter cocked its head. “That took a lot of courage, and I’m honored you trusted me enough to do it.”

“Yeah, well.” Nico shoved the toe of his boot into the gravel. “Sorry he took away your choice.”

Jason shrugged. “At least I know now.”

“Still,” Nico said.

“Still.” Jason finally looked up. Nico’s dark eyes were on him, as he knew they would be, but they looked almost… considering. Jason felt his face heat. “Back to the ship?” he suggested, holding out his hand.

Nico took it and grinned. His teeth were a little crooked and one of his canines stuck out, sharper than most people’s. The heat on Jason’s face spread to his ears.

“We’re going my way this time.”

#jasicobingochallenge2024 #prompt: cupid scene au #fanfiction #jasico #thunderworld #mj talks #my writing #we're doing it folks! we're gonna hit bingo!#'but mj' you say. 'this is the second thing you've posted and it's february 28th.'#shhhhhhhh. we're gonna hit bingo.#i had a whole different plan but then i thought about nico lying straight to cupid's face and jason having to deal w the fallout #and that made me laugh so. have a little writing.

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demiclar · 5 months

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Tithing Pains

Destcember Prompt 21 - Tithing Pains

Drifter takes care of Eris after a difficult transformation.

------

The pavilion seemed to yawn around Drifter as he hurried into it, up the winding path shadowed by Hive stone and hewn rock, he entered the cavernous space and felt a familiar prickle of unease settle into his bones. It was like standing in the middle of an open meadow surrounded on all sides by dense forest, like he was being watched by a predator he couldn’t see, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce. He kept his eyes forward.

At the summoning circle in the center of the pavilion, he could make out Eris’ runes fading out of sight. Hive magic dissipated into the air with an acid tinge that burned Drifter’s nose and lifted the hair on the back of his neck, unease tightening in his shoulders. At the edge of the circle, Ikora looked back at him, his footsteps echoing through the chamber, but she spared him only a glance before she pushed ahead, rushing to the center of the circle where Eris knelt.

She was bare from the waist up, covered in Hive oil and the ripped remnants of her armor. Her back was to Drifter, her skin marred by old scars that had long since become familiar to him. Even in the distance between them he could see how she shook, her breath heaving, her body trembling. Ikora dropped to her knees in front of her, her hand finding Eris’s shoulder. The Drifter could see her lips move, but he couldn’t make out her words. He watched Eris jerk, bowing low over her knees, one hand braced on the stone floor and the other splayed over her chest.

Drifter stopped at the edge of the circle, wheeling to face the other figure present, Immaru hovering at the edge of the ritual circle, watching Eris with scorn. The cold assessment in his eye made an ancient instinct in the Drifter’s mind begin to roar at the perceived threat.

“Get out.” He snapped, and when the Ghost’s shell lifted like he was going to respond, Drifter snarled, Stasis rallying to his fingertips so cold it burned. “I won’t say it twice.”

Immaru glanced between Drifter and Eris, still in the center of the circle. Drifter took a threatening step forward, and the Ghost flitted back, then he left without a word. Drifter hurried into the circle.

Eris’s hand had shifted to grip Ikora’s forearm, so tight her knuckles shone white against her skin, her brow pressed to the cavern floor as she shook, coughs and rattling gasps shaking through her. Her other hand was pressed to the cavern floor, her fingers trembling. Drifter eased himself down to his knees before her, laying his fingers over hers gently.

“Hey, Moondust.” He breathed, his gaze flitting over her. So close, he could see the goosebumps that had risen all over her skin. Hive magic tended to burn hot, the ritual fires in their bowls around the circle put off some heat, but Drifter could already feel the cold from the stone seeping through the layers of his armor, the heat from Eris’s magic already slipping away.

He watched her draw in a sudden deep breath, her head lifting from the cavern floor. Hive eyes blinked at him, half covered by her dark curls. She placed her hands underneath her shoulders and pushed herself upright, her arms almost straight before she coughed hard and wet, doubling forward once more. He set a hand on her back as one cough turned into a fit, each one weaker than the last, her exhaustion clear when she finally dropped her brow to the stone and struggled down deep breaths.

He sensed more than heard the quiet whoosh of his Ghost appearing beside him, their intentions reaching him through the link between them Drifter so often kept shut and barred. His glare was steely when the Ghost lifted its eye off of Eris to meet his gaze, and it shrunk back.

“Ikora,” he nodded to the Warlock, her Ghost already at her side. His lack of trust for his own Traveler-dictated partner didn’t mean he didn’t want Eris looked after, and he watched Ikora share a look with her Ghost before he drifted forward, dropping low to hover eye-level with Eris.

“Eris?” Ophichus asked, his shell tilting to meet her gaze as Eris lifted her head just slightly. “Could I scan you? We want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” She grit out, but still she gave the Ghost a nod as she pushed herself upright on trembling arms. She held still as his beam of light swept over her, Hive eyes shifting shut against the light when it reached her face. Drifter watched her let out her breath in a sigh once the Ghost was done. With her torso still bare, he could see the way her muscles flexed as she began to move and he squeezed her shoulder.

“Don’t get up.” He told her gently, from how she was still shaking, he knew it wouldn’t end well. Ikora’s hand shifted, dropping down Eris’s arm until she was laying her fingers over Eris’s on the cavern floor. Drifter reached up, his hand cupping her cheek, and he watched the hard chitin pieces around Eris’s eyes shift as she closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into Drifter’s touch. “Just breathe for a minute, Moondust. I’ve got you.”

Eris’s breath sighed out of her again and Drifter held on until a shiver rattled her frame, pulling back to reach for his robes. He stripped his gauntlets and the armored plates at his shoulders with practiced ease, slipping the gun from his belt and undoing the buckle, settling it all aside so that he could draw the robe off his shoulders.

“Germaine–” Eris shook her head at him, her hand held up to show the oily Hive blood covering her skin, but Drifter just smiled as he draped the robe over her shoulders, drawing it around her.

“Don’t worry about it, Moondust.” His hands found her shoulders again as Eris reached up to hold the front of the robes, closing them at her chest. “You know I’ve seen worse.”

“And I’m loath to contribute.” She replied, her voice low and weak. Drifter’s soft smile left his face as her eyes closed again, her head dropping as she braced both hands on the stone floor again, her arms trembling.

“You need rest, Eris.” Ikora reached out to hold her friend’s shoulder, and Drifter nodded. The Warlock had been getting on Eris’s case more than he had since this whole ordeal had begun, he trusted Eris to know her limits and her own capabilities, but he also understood how relentless she could be in pursuit of a goal.

“She’s right, Eris.” He said, his smile returning weakly when Eris aimed a glare at him. “We’ve all gotta rest sometime.” He reminded her, reaching out to guide a lock of her hair away from where it covered her center eye. “Call it a day, Moondust. You can go back to bein’ a Hive god tomorrow.”

Drifter could practically feel Eris’s irritation radiating off of her, but he reached out to hold the back of her neck, running his thumb over the corner of her jaw even as it left Hive oil on his fingers.

“I told you I’d be here.”

“I’m not done, Germaine.” She told him, but he held her gaze until she let out her breath in a slow sigh. “Fine. But I will be back.”

Drifter sent her a grin. “Oh, I’m countin’ on it, Moondust.”

The HELM was thankfully empty when Eris and Drifter entered, not a soul in the common areas as Drifter moved through them, Eris light in his arms. He’d picked her up after she’d stumbled rising from the circle, not a move he’d have made if anyone more than Ikora had been around to see, but from the way Eris was already leaning into him, her head resting against his neck and shoulder, he suspected he’d made the right choice.

The lights were dim to their reserve setting, soft red light in the hallways to offer Drifter something to see by without disturbing the crew trying to rest. He headed straight for the officers quarters, where Eris had been assigned a room, along with the Guardian and Crow. From the hallway, he could make out a soft yellow light from one of the rooms. Through the open door, he could see the Guardian, curled under a blanket pulled up to their ears, their eyes shut. He looked back to the hall at the sound of footsteps, Crow slipping down the hall, a glass of water in his hand.

“Hey,” the Hunter greeted quietly, his eyes drifting over Eris in Drifter’s arms. “Is everything okay?”

“Long day.” Drifter said simply. Eris didn’t shift a muscle in Drifter’s arms. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d fallen asleep. He nodded towards the Guardian, asleep in bed with a light on and their door open. “You too?”

“Yeah.” Crow followed his gaze, then shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “They’re fine, just tired, really.” He set the glass of water on a desk just beyond the Guardian’s door, returning to the doorway as soon as it was out of his hand. “Y’know, Eris’s room is–” he pointed behind Drifter, to a door he’d already passed, but Drifter shook his head.

“I know.” He’d thought the Hunter would’ve seen him aboard the HELM enough times to get that he’d stayed the night in Eris’s room more than once. “Not goin’ there yet.”

He made to turn down the hall again, but Crow spoke up before he could.

“Do you need any help?” Crow asked, color darkening on his cheeks when Drifter regarded him with an unimpressed look. “Hunters, we look after our own–”

“I think I’ve got it.” He headed down the hall, not at all surprised when Crow slipped past him, reaching the door to the communal bathrooms before Drifter could and pushing it open. “Thanks.”

“Let me get the lights.” Crow slipped inside, flipping both switches on the wall as Drifter headed for the counter. Eris made a small noise in his arms, her body tensing as she hid her face in Drifter’s neck.

“Maybe just half of ‘em.” He suggested to the Hunter, Crow quickly complying. Drifter pressed his cheek to the top of Eris’s head, reaching a hand up to shield her eyes. “Sorry, Moondust. I know your eyes are better than mine.”

Crow lingered in the doorway when Drifter set Eris down to sit on the counter. Through the mirror in front of him, Drifter could see the Hunter shifting from foot to foot.

“Are you sure she’s–” he broke off, and when Drifter looked back, away from Crow’s reflection, Eris had lifted her head, meeting Crow’s gaze with acolyte’s eyes.

“I’m alright, Crow.” Drifter could hear her exhaustion in her tone, but he watched Crow’s shoulders drop as he let out a relieved sigh of breath, giving Eris a small nod. Eris straightened when he wouldn’t meet her gaze. “My apologies, I’ve forgotten my veil. Does this upset you?” She gestured towards her eyes and Crow’s head jerked up.

“What? No. No, not at all. I just–” Drifter rolled his eyes when the Hunter began to fidget again, a small smile creasing his lips when Eris slapped his arm.

“I just feel like I’m not doing enough.” Crow said, meeting Eris’s eyes at last. “You and the Guardian are out there, dealing with Immaru and gathering tithes, you’re doing these crazy transformations and I’m just…here, writing reports or scouting. I should be helping you.”

“Your work is not insignificant, Crow.” Eris reminded him. Drifter set his hand on her knee, giving it a brief squeeze before he stepped back, retreating from Eris to allow her and Crow to speak while he headed for a set of shelves built into the wall of the bathroom, retrieving a set of towels and washcloths.

“Still,” he could hear Eris continue behind him, Crow’s footsteps soft as he made his way further into the room. “I understand your desire to be closer to the fight. I promise that I’ll call for you when the time comes.”

Crow’s words softened further and Drifter found his way to the showers in the back of the space. He deposited the towels on a nearby bench, then slipped from the room. When he returned from Eris’s room a minute later, a set of her clothes in his hands, he saw Crow give her a nod before he left the room, and Drifter patted his shoulder as he passed.

“Look after our hero, yeah? We’re gonna need ‘em.” They shared a look back towards Eris, and Crow nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

Drifter clapped his shoulder in thanks, and he and Crow parted ways in the corridor. Drifter met Eris at the counter, setting her clothes aside to offer her a hand as she eased herself down to the floor on shaky legs.

“Germaine.” She sent him a weak glare and Drifter had to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“Sorry, Moondust. I know you can take care of yourself.” Still, he couldn’t quite pull his offered hand away, and he smiled when Eris took it once she was standing on the bathroom floor, her other hand still holding his robes closed at her chest. He lowered his head towards hers when she looked up at him, feeling his smile soften. “Been a long time since I let anyone in like this.” He murmured. “Guess some part of me is trying to make up for lost time.”

“Vengeance is not a suitable motivator for all of one’s endeavors.” Eris acknowledged, her voice low. She leaned her head into Drifter’s shoulder, stepping forward until her weight was leaned forward, into his chest. His arms came around her naturally. He pressed his nose into her curls, breathing in what he expected to be the familiar scent of her hair only to choke on a cough when the smell of Hive blood flooded his nostrils.

“Sorry,” he rasped when Eris pulled back, covering his mouth and nose with a hand as he fought back another cough. “I just wasn’t expectin—”

“Quiet.” Eris told him. She took him by the hand again and Drifter followed her to the showers.

“You want help, or–?”

“Quiet, Germaine.”

The showers were split between one row of little booths, with curtains and dividers between each shower, and another row of shower heads, exposed along the wall. Drifter could see the utility in both, with large crews, one often couldn’t afford the luxury of privacy in all of one’s movements, but it wasn’t like anyone wanted to catch a glimpse of their commander in the nude. Well, maybe some might.

Eris pulled him towards the exposed row, rather than try to cram the two of them into one of the booths. They’d done it before, when it wasn’t the middle of the night and Drifter wasn’t keen on anyone walking in and seeing him buck naked and kissing Eris like a lovesick fool, but Drifter doubted anyone was likely to come in now, even someone as nosy as Crow. He’d set the towels nearby, on a bench that ran along the outside wall of the first shower stall, and Eris let go of his hand, shrugging his robes off her shoulders and reaching down to untie her armor from where it had settled around her waist after her Hive transformation had torn through it. He turned on two of the showerheads, staying clear of them so that they could pour out the cold water lingering in the pipes, then planted himself on the bench, looking up at Eris with a lazy smile.

“You could do more than just watch, you know.” She told him, shelling off the last of her clothes. He tugged off his gloves, then reached up to hold her waist. Opening his legs wide, he guided her to stand between his knees, still smiling up at her.

“I love to watch you.” He ran his thumbs over her hip bones. “You really are a sight to see, Moondust.”

“Even like this?” She looked down at him and he shrugged, his smile knowing. Even now, he couldn’t stop staring at her. She was covered in Hive blood, her skin pale from the cold, red lines of irritation over her skin from the places her armor had torn against her shifting form. Her scars were sharp against her skin and still she was the most beautiful person Drifter had ever looked at, maybe because of it all.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, unable to bite back his smile. “You always look fantastic, this doesn’t change anything.”

She shook her head, fondly, exasperatedly. He wasn’t sure she could roll her Hive eyes the way a human’s eyes would, but the expression was close and Drifter grinned. She reached for the hem of his shirt, tugging it off him.

“Come on, Germaine.” She said, pulling him to his feet after she tossed his shirt aside. “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

She headed for the showers without another word and Drifter hurried to shell off the rest of his clothes, pausing only long enough to watch her step under the spray before he climbed to his feet to join her.

She met him under the heat of the water, the pair of them luxuriating in the feel of it for a long moment. Eventually, Drifter moved Eris so that her head was out of the water and he rubbed shampoo through her dark curls, taking care to wash away all the Hive blood until her hair was soft and clean all over her head. He washed away the rest of the blood, feeling Eris go boneless in his hands, her exhaustion creeping up on her once again. He nudged her back when she reached up to reciprocate.

“Go dry off.” He told her gently, dropping a kiss onto her cheekbone. “I’ll be right there. Promise.”

She slipped from the shower and Drifter followed her only a few minutes later. Once they were clean and dry, and they’d found their way back to Eris’s room, they sank into her bed pressed close to one another. Eris tucked herself under Drifter’s chin, drawing his warmth into her body, and Drifter was happy to supply it. He fell asleep holding Eris close, lulled to sleep knowing she was safe from harm.

#destcember2023 #destiny 2 #destiny drifter #destiny eris #Destiny Eris Morn #demiwrites #drifteris #destiny the drifter #drifter/eris

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sketching-shark · 1 year

Text

So Xiyouji is quite the humorous work but honestly the story’s history is extremely interesting and funny too on account of the MASSIVE character change the monk’s monkey protector went through over the centuries. I’ll let Hongmei Sun do the talking here, but beware of crude language below!

We “began” (as these stories were going around in folklore as well) with “Shihua [Full title Da Tang Sanzang qujing shihua] [which] is the first fictional account of Xuanzang’s journey in which the monk acquires a monkey attendant who functions as his guide and protector...According to Shihua’s account, the monk is on his way to acquire scriptures because he has received an imperial commission. On his way he meets the monkey figure, Hou Xingzhe (Monkey Acolyte), who becomes his guide and assistant. This story is filled with praises of the religious pilgrimage, paying its respects to Buddha and Buddhist teaching and eulogizing the peaceful places near the Western Heaven. Unlike the later versions, it is clear in the story that the success of the pilgrimage is based on Tripitaka’s deep understanding of Buddhist texts and great strength in his belief. The Tripitaka in later versions will reply on the assistance of Sun Wukong and gods from all parts of the universe to complete his journey.”

BUT THEN WE GET THIS:

“The six-part, twenty-four-act Zaju Xiyou ji is attributed to the fourteenth-century playwright Yang Jingxian, who lived during the late Yuan and early Ming periods. In the few hundred years between Shihua and Zaju, the story of ‘Journey to the West’ is not only more expanded, containing many of the stories that can be found later in Journey to the West, but the monkey figure in Zaju has grown into a character strikingly different from Hou Xingzhe. If Hou Xingzhe in Shihua is depicted as an advisor for Tripitaka, as respectable albeit mysterious deity, and a brave fighter, the monkey in Zaju is pictured as a rowdy clown, an untamed demon and ill-qualified Buddhist disciple... He also makes upfront ribald references about himself in this very first speech. The monkey’s demonic heart is indicated by his intention to eat Tripitaka immediately after Tripitaka rescues him from beneath the mountain. He never shows any seriousness about his business of pilgrimage, and his behavior does not improve during the journey. When the team arrives in India, he uses crude language in a conversation with an old lady about Buddhist ideas of the ‘heart’...The language that Xingzhe uses is the most vulgar of all, corresponding to his role as the clown. He amuses by making crude jokes and obscene references at most inappropriate occasions throughout the story. For instance, at a crucial moment of his life when Tripitaka meets him for the first time and tries to climb the mountain to have him released, the monkey starts a conversation about love and explains that Tripitaka’s motivation to save him is his lust for the monkey’s thin waistline, which resembles that of a desirable beauty. The monkey makes a reference to Agilawood Pavilion (Chenxiang Ting), a place that is known through Li Bo’s poems about the love affair between Emperor Tang Xuanzong and his consort Yang Guifei...When asked about his heart, Xingzhe comments that he used to have a heart, but he ‘shit it out’ because his ‘asshole’ is too wide.”

So this is a pretty major character change to say the least. But what’s this? WU CHENG’EN COMES IN WITH THE ABILITY TO COMPOSE A CLASSIC!!!

“In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong becomes a figure of more depth, someone who does not follow any prototype. He is still the guide and protector, resourceful for the journey, and knowledgeable about Buddhist teachings, but he is not the overly seriously Hou Xingzhe of Shihua. He is still funny and mischievous, creating trouble while pushing the narrative forward, but he is no longer the clown of Zaju. It seems that much of the vulgarity is redirected to the character of Zhu Bajie, which allows Sun Wukong to become a more introspective character who seeks to answer the question; Who am I?’ or, more accurately, engages the reader to ask the question...Compared to the earlier versions, the most significant change of Journey to the West is the change of protagonist. In Zaju, Tripitaka is still the main pilgrim on the journey and the main character in the entire play. Besides the incidents during the journey, the drama starts with Tripitaka’s legend and ends with Tripitaka’s accomplishment of the pilgrimage. In Journey to the West this structure is changed. The novel begins instead with a seven-chapter-long account of the monkey’s story, which is elaborated more than in any earlier account. It is here that Sun Wukong obtains his weapon, the Golden-Hooped Rod, which does not appear in the previous monkey stories...His actions, from stealing peaches from heaven, to making advances toward Princess Iron Fan, are all actions of a mischievous demon that needs to be controlled by the fillet. In Journey to the West, Sun Wukong finds his rod, and his experience—from the learning of skills, the testing of territory, the freedom of doing what he wants, to the kind of fun he enjoys no matter what he does and where he is—seems to be associated with, or represented by, the rod. Indeed, the narrative particularly makes the point that the monkey is meant to be the owner of the rod. The narrative also notes in one episode that without the rod he is no longer the monkey. The pleasure and freedom that Sun Wukong enjoys with the rod, or the Compliant Golden-Hooped Rod (Ruyi Jingu Bang) is only to be met by the fillet from the Buddha, given to him by Guanyin via the hands of Tripitaka. The fillet is not compliant to his will; instead, it controls him against his will. From the moment that Sun Wukong puts on the fillet, he is transformed from a free monkey—or a demon from the viewpoint of the Taoist and Buddhist deities—to a disciple of Tripitaka, a ‘compliant’ good pilgrim for the journey. In a sense, he becomes the ‘compliant rod’ for his master and Guanyin, since they can use the Tightening Fillet to force him to do what they want. However, the story is told mainly from the monkey’s point of view, as is established in the beginning chapters. Thus, the conflict between the rod of free will and the fillet that constrains the will becomes fundamental for the character Sun Wukong, providing the exigencies for his behavior.”

Su Wukong is a constantly transforming character, but the extreme levels of transformation he went through before Xiyouji was even published is a journey in of itself.

#xiyouji #journey to the west #jttw #sun wukong #monkey king

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onigirio · 2 years

Note

hi! headcanons of a daughter of hecate in a throuple with leo valdez & jason grace? please <3

dating leo and jason

a/n: thank u for the request! i love jason i love leo so writing this was like a dream come true <3 i hope you’re having a great day anon!

this is also unedited im so sorry

more under the cut!

okay hear me out

you are a little shit (respectfully)

man you love pulling silly little pranks on people

nothing too harmful though

but when people get pranked

their first thought is you

“you do know you have to hold the sword right” “(name) istg”

when you meet leo, you two immediately hit it off

like come on

chaotic good meets chaotic good

you two are a match made in hell (everyone loves u guys though)

our sunshine duo

leo started liking you when you first complimented his work

he had been making a lil mini festus

bc festus <333

you saw it and you were like “dude the detail on this is incredible youre so talented”

and he was like

oh 💕💕💕💕

he mentions it to jason bc he’s confused

and jason has everyone (me) tripping over their own feet

so leo is just like “oh yea i think they’re really cool i kinda wanna ask them out”

jason is kinda like “oh yea you should go for it”

bc he doesn’t really know you yk?

until he meets you

and wow

he’s kinda jealous of all the time leo spends with you

you were sorta chilling in hephaestus cabin bc yk

bff tings ™️

jason sees you sitting and reading on leo’s bed

with pens and stuff just floating around you

just (name) things™️

you notice him and you’re like

“you never seen someone doing their summer homework?”

and he just stands there

“is leo here” he asks kinda scared

bc you have pens just floating around you

“he went to the bathroom, but he said he’d be back soon”

so jason is like ok

and just stands there (2)

like he knows you but he doesn’t know you yk?

but he wants to get to know you

bc the crush of a bff is a bff too

you finally look up at him, your expression questioning his awkward demeanor

and thats when he notices

fuck

you’re pretty

like really pretty

he understands why leo has a thing for you

jason would probably have a thing for you too

but he’d never tell anyone that

bc bro code

you pat the spot next to you on leo’s bed

“you can come sit, i don’t bite” you said with a smile

jason is just like

why is your smile pretty too

you’re not making it any easier

he sits next to you (making sure not to hit a stray highlighter in the air)

“you’re (name) right?” he asked

“hecate’s favourite child? in the flesh”

he just likes your energy

you’re very chilled

you think it’s funny how shy he is around you

like this is the jason grace?

you giggled a lil

you sort of just hung out leo’s bed until he came back

when leo comes back you’re just like “oh he was looking for you, i let him in”

like it wasn’t even your cabin

everyone basically associates you with the hephaestus kids

if youre not in your cabin or making swords float, you’re there

so leo’s chilled with it obviously

because time with his best friend and his crush?

he basically won the lottery

so then you all hang out in his cabin

and that’s how your lil trio came to be

it only took a few weeks before jason was like

damn

he kinda likes you too

you two had lots of deep conversations together

and he felt understood

you were also always willing to help with anything

so you spent a lot of time together either sparring or laughing at the pavilion

you rlly wormed your way into his heart

but leo liked you first so now he felt bad

poor jason :(

leo saw the way you two interacted and he was like

“yo, do you like-“

jason immediately was like “yea”

they handled it like big boys tho

even though leo was just the tiniest littlest bit jealous

yk insecurities

everyone would choose jason, and you probably would too

so he just felt a little bit anxious and worried

especially because he liked you a lot

he wouldn’t manage watching you be with his best friend

but because he was a good friend, he didn’t get mad or anything

they weren’t sure how to go about it

yk men

so they just asked you

“hey we both like you but we just wanna know who you’d rather dat”

you being the slayer you are were just like

“cant i just date you both”

you know as a joke at first

but then you all considered it

and you were like yea that could work

and that’s how you became THEE throuple

everyone is jealous of you

two boyfriends? in one go?

thats the (name) effect

they both balance each other out perfectly

you get the best of both worlds

you and jason will definitely go to leo’s workshop and bring him snacks or coffee

and you guys will chill and talk

leo would make you guys matching jewelry

if you’re sad

you literally have a human teddy bear and a human heater

cuddles for everyone!

jason is the rational mind ngl

he’s always caught up in your practical jokes

once you did a joke magic show

and you were like , “and now i shall make leo disappear!”

yk because magicians, child of hecate

at the time it was funny come on now

either way you made leo disappear

like actually

jason thought it was funny and then he noticed you weren’t laughing

why tf weren’t you laughing

you scoured the camp for him

(he was under your bed)

that’s how you learned you could teleport things too!

that’s a win!

whenever guys hit on you

leo and jason will tag team the mf

no one is harassing you

not on their watch

it’s always the hardest when you’re at school

bc you miss them so much

they definitely surprise you during finals

with lots of snacks and soda and words of encouragement

safe to say you aced that year

and going back to them is always the best reward

jason and leo love you so much, and you wouldn’t give them up for the world

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duologies · 3 months

Text

i've finally started solidifying how i want qinglan and yuanfei to meet. yuanfei owns a nine-story teahouse (based on the nine levels of heaven) named jiutian ting (nine heaven pavilion); the higher the level, the better the food and tea is. along qinglan's travels he hears about this teahouse and decides to go there for a short rest. qinglan enters the first floor and while there gets wrapped up in a debate (about what? haven't figured it out yet). yuanfei sits at the ninth floor and word gets to him about a strange newcomer, so he goes to investigate. yuanfei ends up joining the conversation himself. they decide to strike up a partnership to work together for the foreseeable future (and genuine friendship follows eventually yayyyy).

#entry #shl

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the-pinstriped-hood · 11 months

Text

"Hail Persephone Jones, Daughter of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, The Silent One."

Part 2: Swimming Shades

That had been three days ago and the camp had finally died down again from all the excitement. Percy had been moved into Cabin 13, meeting her cabin mates, Milo and Ciarán. She admired the green fire glowing in the brassiere outside the cabin. Inside, heavy metal played from a Bluetooth speaker at a reasonable volume. The bunk beds had been made out of a polished dark wood and silver rivets held them together. The room was overall dark, which is how the boys liked it. The windows and curtains were closed 24/7.

The young girl set down what little she had, her toiletry bag from the camp store, her collection of gems she found around camp in a small box.

Milo nudged his Irish half brother. "We never guessed we'd get a little sister…" Milo tried making small talk. This part wasn't his favorite. Ciarán could already feel the icy distance growing between himself, Milo and Percy.

"Why couldn't he tell me that himself?" She asked, Steel blue eyes flashing with hurt.

"In a way, lass, he did. Ya have to understand that our parents, the gods can't have direct contact with us. It's against ancient laws."

Percy hopped off her bed and went back outside, slamming the door behind her.

"We tried man…"

"Aye."

The youngest demigod was in no mood to be bothered. She was so upset. Being tossed around in the foster system like a ragdoll, used and abused. At least the ones that were greedy, had gotten their dose of Karma. If Percy didn't give you one of her gems willingly, it would be cursed with bad luck to keep it with you. Most times resulting in death.

Then, she thought of the opal skull around her neck. It had randomly appeared while she was in the orphanage one night, she also thought of Bubba. The large hellhound that had managed to find her wherever she was, no matter what state she had been sent to for a foster home.

A pit in her stomach made her feel bad. Hades had tried in what little ways he could to make sure Percy was being cared for.

"You know, I'd never seen a girl as pretty as you around here~" a southern tinged voice purred. To her left, Percy found the Aphrodite cabin, all pink and pristine like a Barbie doll mansion come to life. A young boy with slicked back chocolate colored hair and eyes as blue as the sky was leaning against one of the columns. Percy rolled her eyes.

Only now would she get attention like this. Because she was considered somebody important.

"You know that only now are you interested in saying hi it makes you look shallow."

The boy snorted, standing up and getting close to Percy. Bubba growled at Bo, steaming drool dripping from his jowls. Bo paid the dog no mind.

"Baby doll, you'll have to forgive me. I've been busy."

Percy prayed to the gods for a distraction. She wanted out of this interaction. Luckily, someone answered her prayer.

A shadow hovered over both her and Bo, It was Max. The counselor from the Hermes cabin made himself known as Bo stepped back.

"Hey, Percy. Archie wants you to get fitted for armor for training."

Percy nodded, mouthing a small, thank you, to the blonde and jogging away from the situation towards the Hephaestus forges, Bubba on her heels.

"But Archie don't do fittings." Bo looked up at the blonde. "You're right. He doesn't. But I won't stand for bullying, Bo. I know you."

The southern boy skulked right back into his cabin with his brothers and sisters and closed the door.

At lunchtime, Ciarán, Milo and Percy ate at their designated tables at the pavilion while Bubba gnawed on a large bone on the floor. The pavilion was buzz with talking and laughter. Ellie, the councilor for the Demeter cabin was talking about growing Venus flytraps in the garden on the roof. Darrell was laughing along with his brothers and sisters about almost getting scorched in the lava pit on the rock wall. He had holes in his shirt to show for it. The Apollo kids were harmonizing at their table, with Ava leading. The chatter from the Hermes table was loud as usual being the biggest Cabin, the Dionysus kids were the opposite, talking quietly and some of them even waved to Mr D. Over at the Aphrodite table, Vincent and Lester were looking at Ellie and Ava longingly while Bo was fixing his hair in his sister Maggie's hand mirror because the wind had messed it up again Eden was admiring herself in her own mirror making kissy faces.

Percy finished her food and sat silently. The air was awkward around the Hades kids. There wasn't really anything they had in common besides their parentage but the half brothers figured they should make a genuine effort this time.

"So…..that collection of gems. Where'd you find them?" Milo asked, mindlessly sipping his goblet of Red Bull.

Percy's hand crept to her necklace. "I just have an eye for finding them, I guess. It's always been this way. I find geodes too. They're really pretty. But…"

"But?" Ciaran asked silently.

"My foster parents kept taking them away from me. And while I was at school, I'd be shuffled off to the next set of parents because they had died somehow."

Stunned silence from her brothers.

"I later found out that the gems are cursed. If I don't share them with you, the curse remains."

"So its sharing or theft." Milo nodded.

The little black haired girl returned the nod. Pulling something out of her pocket, she produced two necklaces. One made from glassy obsidian in the shape of a sword, one made from a fire opal in the shape of a blood droplet.

"I asked Archie from the Hephaestus cabin to help me make these for you. They aren't cursed."

The boys exchanged glances and took the respective necklace putting it on.

"Thanks sis, that's really thoughtful of you." Milo reached over the table, ruffling her hair.

Ciarán stared at her as if to say "welcome to the family, sis."

@rottent33th @slaasherslut @devil-doll13 @bluecoolr @ajarofpickledtears @shonkgobonk @soupbabe @slasherscrybaby @solmints-messyocdiary @ahmnom @probably-a-plant-thing @damien-mlm @kalid-raven @angxlslasher @allthingsblood

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aspiringauthorintraining · 2 years

Text

Musou No Hito-tachi: Divine Punishment (5/?)

“It is time for divine retribution.”

The sky roared with deafening thunder above, inching closer by the second.. A faint buzzing with a burning smell creeped into the surrounding air unnoticed, as furious winds whipped around.

The Shogun’s blade crackled mid-air before the archon swiftly brought down her weapon of punishment.

The air suddenly stood still around her.

Then there was light.

Bright violet light.

And an ear-splitting crack.

Some screamed, others jumping in fright. But everyone watching was forced to physically turn away to shield their eyes, if not from the light then from the debris of stone and soil that was the aftermath.

Amidst all the chaos, the Shogun seemed unaffected by the lightning that had missed her by an inch. But her eyes told otherwise, confusion filling them. And when she looked to the spot before her, a glint of surprise passed in the archon’s eyes.

Not a second later, the archon disappeared with a flash of light, similar to the color of the lightning strike moments before- but this time with a darker violet tinge.

The soldiers marched away as well, following their master’s exit.

Whispers and murmurs sounded throughout the crowd at what they had just witnessed. But even they too soon dispersed, returning to the comfort of their own homes- out of the pouring rain.

In the pavilion, now only two remained.

Thoma and Ayaka stood standing in the deafening silence- in the unrelenting rain.

___________________

Silence rang throughout the Kamisato residence the next day. A sound that had not been heard since the death of the previous clan heads.

The siblings kept to their rooms. Mourning the loss of a loved one was not foreign, but was not to be welcomed either.

Thoma stayed retreated in his room as well.

He sat numbly on the floor, still in his drenched clothes from the previous night. A small trail of water led from the door to where he was. He had yet to move- not to his closet for a change of clothes, not to his bed to sleep, not to the kitchens for food.

How could he? You were dead.

There wasn’t even a body for them to bury. You were just gone. No warning. No goodbye. Just gone.

Within the silence ringing in his ears, he could only replay the final words you had left him with.

“I’ll be okay.”

You had smiled. Even in the final moment as you faced your end- you had smiled. All that was left of you were those three words- three words said for him not to worry. That you had accepted your fate.

He clenched his fists in frustration at the questions arising. Why had you challenged the Shogun to a duel before the throne? Why had you been there in the first place?

He should have done something to it. Stop you.

Was this why you had confessed your feelings the night before? Had you known what was going to happen beforehand?

With his mind so scattered, he hadn’t realized something was happening outside until the voices had elevated to shouting.

“Let me go!”

Thoma furrowed his brows.

Kujou Sara?

“Do not touch me!”

With haste, Thoma fumbled towards the door- legs still weak. Stepping outside, he saw a few Kujou clan soldiers holding back an enraged General Kujou Sara from the entrance to the residence. The commotion had managed to bring Ayato and Ayaka out as well, already standing outside before them with looks of confusion.

The Commissioner observed the general quietly, finally addressing her once she started to become physical with the soldiers.

“Kujou Sara, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Ayato called out to her. “You well know, we are in the middle of mourning the loss of a family member.” His voice was seemly neutral despite all that had happened, yet the second sentence gave a subtle warning to her overstepping.

“Family?” the general hissed. “You don’t deserve to call her family.”

Amidst the pouring rain, she continued to struggle against her soldiers’ hold.

“Kujou Sara, I advise you to choose your words carefully.” Ayato warned. “If I’m not mistaken, the Kujou clan was in charge of the ceremony and everyone involved.”

Kujou Sara laughed maniacally at him. “Are you blaming me for her death, Commissioner?” she spat out his official title with venom. “You say she was family and you couldn’t even protect her. You’re nothing but a coward!”

The general’s eyes narrowed at Thoma.

“And you!” she spat at him. “She did this because of you!”

Thoma’s heart dropped at her words, dread filling him.

“What do you mea-”

“You were the one the Shogun chose for the ceremony. You were the one who was supposed to be there, not her!” she shouted. Her tears could have mistaken for rain drops. “I-I should have stopped her. I should have...” She dropped to the ground in anguish. “It’s my fault. I let her take your place. I let her be in the ceremony.”

The little strength Thoma had left him, falling to the ground. Everyone was silent, trying to process all that was revealed.

“I was supposed to be in the ceremony.” Thoma repeated, eyes shaking. “She took my place.” He let out a laugh and his masters watched him with concern. “Of course she did. She- she did this to protect me.” He closed his eyes in defeat.

You had hoped he and Ayaka would be happy together, when you knew your affections could not be returned.

You had spent a whole day in the kitchen once, trying to recreate Mondstadt dishes he had once described to you after overhearing him being homesick. You had gifted him with a pair of stud earrings made from agnidus agate gemstone for his birthday, a rare mineral he knew you would have needed to save up money for.

You had done all those things thinking of him.

And now you were gone.

“I could say the same to you, General. Are you-,” Ayato paused with a sad realization, correcting himself. “-were you not one of (Y/N)’s closest companions? You knew of her death in the ceremony and did nothing? Even if you could not have done anything, given your position, we could have with prior knowledge.” He spoke formally and poised, but Thoma could see his lord’s hands were clenched in silent fury.

“I didn’t know.” Sara cried out weakly. “She was only supposed to have her vision taken away. That was the plan that was approved by the Shogun. I wouldn’t have allowed her an audience with the Shogun if I knew there was going to be a duel before the throne.”

“The duel was not planned by the Kujou clan?” Thoma suddenly asked.

Ayato’s eyes widened slightly, realizing something was amiss. He whispered to the servant beside him, who quickly nodded before leaving the scene.

“No, I was the one to approve the final details of the ceremony before informing the Shogun. Any changes would have to go through me. But, the only person who wouldn’t need my permission would be-”

Ayato cut her off quickly. “General, you must be cold from standing in the rain this long. Ayaka, would you please show the general to your room to change into dry clothes? Both of you can join me for tea afterwards.” Everyone stared at the Commissioner with confusion at the sudden change in subject. “And Thoma, lead the Kujou clan soldiers inside for a change of clothes as well. Come join us once you’re done.”

Ayaka stared at her smiling brother curious what he was planning. But she trusted her brother as did Thoma, who knew there was a reason for his master’s sudden desire for tea time. The two followed his orders, disappearing inside the building with their respective parties in tow.

It was now only Ayato who was standing outside. He listened for a second, hearing the patter of rain falling on the roof above him. He turned around but made no move to walk forward inside. Instead, he started talking.

“Find out Kujou Takayuki’s schedule the day before the ceremony. Continue to keep an eye on the Fatui as well.”

“Yes, Commissioner.” A voice spoke from above, unseen.

And with that, Ayato proceeded inside to join the others.

___________________________________

(Somewhere in Liyue)

“Is she dead? Do you think she got hit by the lightning during that crazy storm?”

“These injuries weren’t just caused by lightning. We need to take her to Baizhu, it looks like she lost a lot of blood already.”

“But what if she’s already...you know?”

"She’s breathing so she’s not- quit poking her with a stick, Paimon!”

____________________________________

*(A/N): to everyone who waited for an update (if there is anyone who waited lol) here you go! hope you like it ehe (*´∀`*)

#musou no hito-tachi: divine punishment #Genshin #genshin x you #genshin impact imagine #thoma imagine #thoma x reader #genshin thoma #genshin impact thoma

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foxghost · 1 year

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Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Seventh of Seventh · The Distance Between Two Shores

A rising autumn breeze passes through the empty palace hall. Duan Ling hurries through the gallery, the ends of his black robes fluttering in the breeze. His long hair is held in a low ponytail with a single black string, and his soft lips are ever so slightly pursed.

He walks past the swaying silhouettes of trees humming with the last of late summer cicadas, past the garden swirling with yellowing autumn leaves, past dusk adorned with crisp dark shadows cast by lantern light into the fresh night touched with the purple-red tinge of a dying sunset. Life is like a stage, and the curtains have fallen to reveal a sheet of sapphire silk studded with magnificent stars.

Dressed all in black, he seems almost to become one with the night. Slowly, he comes to a stop and stands before the White Tiger idol. Starlight shines down from the vaulted roof of the pavilion after reflecting off its angles. The Zhenshanhe has been placed horizontally on a sword stand, enshrined beneath the claws of the god that rules the autumn season.

This place is like the temple nearest the constellations, and every time Duan Ling stands beneath the white tiger’s gaze, he would feel as if he’s only one step away from the river of stars above. But it calmly blocks Duan Ling’s way as if there is a bustling heavenly realm behind its back, where mortals may not set foot.

“Dad.” Duan Ling walks forward, gently strokes the white tiger’s sharp canine, and puts his face against its ice-cold nose. He says, sounding enchanted, “Another year’s gone by.”

He lights three sticks of incense, and bows to the white tiger idol thrice. An autumn breeze sends the muslin curtains fluttering. The scent of sandalwood wafts through the air. Duan Ling climbs up the idol’s base, crawls into the white tiger’s outstretched, scouting paw, and leans back into its arm. He faces the star-studded firmament as though he’s being held by the white tiger, and in a daze, he lets his mind wander.

Lord White Tiger’s eyes reflect starlight, and its cool jade body gradually warms. Leaning back against the well-defined, powerful muscles of its chest, Duan Ling suddenly senses something.

“Who’s there?” Duan Ling can dimly notice a silhouette behind the muslin curtains.

Another gust of wind brings up the curtain, and a tall man walks into the shrine.

Duan Ling stares at him in shock.

The man has deep-set eyes like stars, with dark eyebrows and soft lips, and he’s dressed in an embroidered pale blue fighter’s robe. The clothes, however, are half foreign and half Han, with the left sleeve tied the way a warrior wears his sleeve, while the right sleeve is left hanging wide like a literati’s. The trajectory of the White Tiger constellation has been embroidered onto his open gown, with the major star done in silver thread, glittering with the same starlight that illuminates the sky.

He has on fighter’s boots decorated with a pattern of clouds, a silver pauldron on his left shoulder. A gem shaped like a water drop adorns his right wrist.

“Dad?” Duan Ling almost can’t believe his own eyes. This is his father, but not the father he knows well; this one is even younger than when Duan Ling met his father for the first time, as though he’s just past twenty. He’s handsome and fair, and there is not a sign of the turmoil and sternness that used to plague his eyes; in place of that is an innate graceful elegance.

Li Jianhong smiles, leaping onto the base of the white tiger idol, and leans against the tiger’s body. The white tiger suddenly starts to move, letting out a low growl, startling Duan Ling.

“How did you …” Staring at this whole get-up, Duan Ling feels a rush of pleasant surprise.

“Become so young?” Li Jianhong says. “Looks like my son’s all grown up though.”

Duan Ling finds it all incredible; he and Li Jianhong seem to be two young men similar in age, and next to each other, Li Jianhong barely looks much older than him at all.

“Even though you’ve grown up, and dad’s gotten younger, you still can’t call me gege.” Li Jianhong jokes, “You couldn’t have imagined what I looked like when I was younger, my son?”

There is nothing but astonishment in Duan Ling’s eyes, and the corner of his mouth keeps turning up for the smile he can’t hide. He picks up Li Jianhong’s hand and stares at the jade on his wrist. “What’s this?”

“Star jade,” Li Jianhong replies with a smile. “I need it to patrol the skies. Here, it’s all yours,” he says, taking it off for Duan Ling.

“I don’t want it,” Duan Ling looks blandly at him, having figured out the meaning behind his father’s frivolous smile. “What’s it good for? It’s not even as pretty as my jade arc.”

“It’s a star,” says Li Jianhong. “One of the many stars in the sky. It controls the fates of everyone in the mortal world. People are always saying, ‘if you want the stars from the sky I’d pluck them down for you’, this is what that means.”

“Dad, have you become a Daoist Immortal?” Duan Ling sounds amazed.

Li Jianhong’s robe flaps in the wind. He gives Duan Ling an enigmatic shh in reply and explains, “Tonight happens to be the Seventh of Seventh, so I came down while the Cowherd and the Weaving Maid are busy seeing each other. I’ll have to head back soon lest they find me out.”

“Will we ever see each other again?” Duan Ling can’t help himself; his voice grows thick with tears.

Li Jianhong calmly watches the tears in Duan Ling’s eyes, but he doesn’t answer. From his reading of the ancient tomes, Duan Ling has gleaned that the gods cannot enter the mortal world without cause, and they must not reveal the ineffable. But to be able to see him once more during this one lifetime already leaves Duan Ling without regrets.

“I see you every day,” Li Jianhong whispers. “I’m always here.”

He pulls Duan Ling to him, putting Duan Ling’s head on his shoulder. He says smilingly, “Do you not have anything else to say? Look how old you are already, and still such a crybaby.”

Duan Ling’s tearful expression turns into a smile. He studies Li Jianhong’s eyes and nose, and he thinks that he is still him; through all these years, Duan Ling has never forgotten every time he’d dreamt of him.

“I had a dream last month.” Duan Ling thinks of this and that, but doesn’t really know what he should say, and ends up saying, “I dreamt of you.”

“Yeah?” Li Jianhong takes off his outer robe and pulls it over them like a blanket as they stargaze together. “What was your dream about?”

Duan Ling pauses to think, but as he’s about to say more, Li Jianhong continues, “You’re like our great ancestor, and like Zhuangzi too — always sleeping and dreaming when you’ve got nothing better to do. One moment you’re turning into a butterfly, another you’re turning into a big fish … watch out you don’t end up getting stuck in your dreams and can’t wake up anymore.”

Duan Ling is smilng again. “Actually, if I can see you in my dreams all the time, I probably wouldn’t want to wake up.”

The two of them lean against each other the way two young men would. Whenever Li Yanqiu used to reminisce about his and Li Jianhong’s youth from time to time, Duan Ling would feel rather envious. Wouldn’t be nice if time can flow backwards so he can be around during his father’s younger days, to conquer the world at his side, or just to administer the realm for him?

But he never could have imagined that he would reunite with his father again under these particular circumstances. In the mortal world, people spend much of their time apart, and reunions are few and far between; it has always been thus. If he dillydallies much longer, his father may have to leave again before they manage to get much of a conversation going.

"In the dream, you took me along on a military campaign to the north to fight the Goryeo empire and the Mongolians. "Duan Ling recalls some details from his dreams, and everything seems so vivid it’s almost like it happened yesterday. He looks up again and says, “Lang Junxia was still alive, and he took me to his village as a guest. Chang Liujun was around too, also Zheng Yan and Wu Du. They were all by my side. Oh, and you gave me this huge lecture.”

Li Jianhong’s expression darkens. “Of course I’d have to lecture you. You follow Wu Du around all day long and don’t even want your dad anymore. Running off all the time doing lord knows what — what if you got lost?”

Duan Ling stares at him in shock.

“You knew?!” Duan Ling is stunned in an instant. “How did you know that?!”

“I don’t know.” The corner of Li Jianhong’s mouth twitches as he immediately washes his hands of the whole thing. “I seriously have no idea.”

“You knew!” Duan Ling grabs Li Jianhong’s sleeve and refuses to let go, arguing, “how else would you have known that I ran off with Wu Du?”

Li Jianhong can’t help but laugh out loud. “Where’s Wu Du? Call him over. It’s been ages since we had a drink together.”

“You two drank together?” Duan Ling sounds flabbergasted. “I never heard him say that.”

The more Li Jianhong says, the worse this gets; it’s his fault really that his own son is too smart, and he’s almost tricked into revealing a bunch of ineffable mysteries. He has no choice but to stop talking, just stares at Duan Ling and smiles.

“What are you smiling about?” Duan Ling frowns.

“There are lots of things I can’t say, so I can only smile. What else can I do?”

Looking at this father’s handsome smile, Duan Ling suddenly isn’t sure what he should say anymore. After a bit of thinking, he says, “So the one in my dreams really was you.”

Li Jianhong raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t refute Duan Ling, but he doesn’t admit to it either. He opens his hand, and in his palm is that star jade, its lustre incomparably gentle, with soft halos sparkling within.

“This is for you, a star from the sky,” Li Jianhong says.

Duan Ling touches it lightly with a finger, and the star jade blossoms with a bright but gentle glow, like he’s been placed in the centre of the Silver River. Its white light fills the space between sky and earth as the Silver River descends, and all at once, Duan Ling feels as though he’s in the middle of an ocean of light.

“Dad.” Duan Ling has a feeling that Li Jianhong is about to vanish in the middle of that ocean.

But Li Jianhong is smiling at him. “Come into my dream, my son.”

Duan Ling cries out, “Dad!”

But Li Jianhong has already become starlight, vanishing from Duan Ling’s side. In the midst of these brilliant rays, Duan Ling feels as though he’s become a lot smaller, all the way back to the time he reunited with his dad for the first time. Li Jianhong looks down at Duan Ling, his smiling eyes filled with tenderness. He reaches out and strokes Duan Ling’s head before turning into a gentle breeze, and on this holiday where girls pray to the stars for hands as nimble as the Weaving Maid’s, he scatters into the horizon.

Seventh of Seventh; the Silver River looks both clear and shallow; how vast can the distance between two shores ever be?

Duan Ling looks all around him. In this gentle dreamscape, the stars are fragments of light undulating on a river; on either shore of a crystalline river, they gaze at each other lovingly without a word.2

This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Two lines from 迢迢牽牛星 / The Distant Cowherd Star, by an anonymous poet during the Han dynasty, is one of the Nineteen Old Poems. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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glasseelie · 1 year

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Ancient God - Reincarnated as a Kid in Teyvat

Characters: Zhong Li; Childe; Diluc; Cyno; Kazuha.

Summary: You don't know why you, an ancient God that has lived tens of thousands of years and even slept for more thousands of years - suddenly died and got reincarnated as a regular child. Seriously, what is up with that? Now, all you can do is roam whichever nation you got dropped in and observe the changed world from another point of view.

Category: Platonic Reader Gender: Neutral

Notice: Everything in this post is 100% platonic - reader is in a kid form, so any insinuation of romance between them and characters is not acceptable.

Zhong Li ; sharing tea and memories

Even though nothing changed the fact that the leaves from your home brewed for much better tea, Liyue was a sure enough good competitor - specifically the Yanshang Teahouse.

The rich aroma of fine quality tea quickly enticed you to start working in here; that's how things were run in the current world - you must work at any case and that people have long since made up "currency" (you still struggle with this concept sometimes).

With you new and squishy little body, you couldn't do much else then bring cups to and from the tables, but it gave you an excuse to smell the tea some more and the Teahouse owners seemed a sweet couple, so it was acceptable.

But...

"Oh? Who's this adorable bunny?"

"Careful not to trip! Such small feet you have!"

"Aiya! So cute! Thank you little one! Jie-jie promises to bring you some delicious candy next time!"

Everyone was treating you like a child.

To be fair, you did look like one. With short limbs and squishy cheeks, slightly red with youthful eagerness. Physical activities seemed 10x hard too; all in all, you did not miss being this small - last time you were like this was when you were born tens of thousands of years ago.

The worst thing about it was that no one took your requests seriously.

You wanted to learn about Liyue's history - you've been sleeping practically the whole time it was created, so you were clueless about everything. But everyone you asked either told you folklore stories for kids or gave you a picture book that explained nothing (though Liyuen style of art was quite beautiful).

One day, on a busy evening, your eyes caught something different - an adeptus. Sure, you saw some adepti come down for a drink or two from time to time, but this one was extraordinary.

This adeptus had an aura of divinity achieved by experiences of thousands of years - a retired god perhaps? - your mind supplied. Calm, knowing amber eyes and neat, mature attire.

That was your ticket to knowledge.

So you swiped the order from another waiter and went to deliver the Misty Garden tea - strong aroma with caramel, certainly someone with a good tea taste.

You tried not to look funny with your tiny steps as you approached the table on the west ting overlooking almost all of Liyue. The magnificent vermillion color of the local styled ting and all the pavilion construction was beautiful against the golden layers of the nation.

The adeptus looked down at your much smaller human form and smiled politely "Hello, thank you for bringing me my tea" he says and takes the porcelain teapot and cup set off the tray.

You watch him for a little, observing for any signs of him wanting to be alone; he busies himself with inhaling the sweet aroma instead. Finally, you ask "Can I sit with you for a bit?"

The adeptus is surprised, but doesn't seem perplexed about the idea. "I don't see why not" he answers after a bit, he motions at the other seat across from him and encourages you to join him.

Both of you seem to be in a comfortable silence as he seems to be patiently waiting for you to break it. Though you're content in just listening to the bustle of the city, after so many years of silence, you can't let this opportunity slip between your fingertips.

"May I know your name?"

"Of course. I go by Zhong Li"

"I see, Zhong Li, I have a small request."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Since you are an adeptus, I was wondering if you were knowledgeable in Liyue's history."

If you knew about anything, it's that adepti appreciated straightforwardness - not having any time for meaningless pleasantries that humans deemed necessary for everyday life.

The said adeptus quickly analyzed what was going on, put his teacup back down and nodded with a pleased smile "I would say I'm quite proficient."

"I have just come to Liyue a little ago, I know not of its history and everyone treats me like someone who can only understand simple pictures." you said, somehow keeping your calm, despite being frustrated to no end "So I ask of you to please, share your memories"

And that is how an alliance started between two retired gods. One brought expensive tea to the funeral parlor down the street, the other talked about his vast memories of the very nation they drank their aromatic delicacy.

Gaining a person that can share the memory.

Childe ; giving advice from ancient times

As a god, before achieving glory, you had survived in most horrid conditions. Danger looming over you at any corner, withstanding the harshest of winds and the darkest of nights. You had gone numb to many uncomfortable factors like the cold and the dark long, long ago.

And yet, this small human body was not getting the hint.

You woke up from your eternal slumber couple of days ago, shaking uncontrollably in a collapsed hut, not being able to keep your teeth from chattering. Interestingly, humans bodies turn bluish when cold enough, but you couldn't bring yourself to be fascinated by the revelation as you were hours away from death.

Thankfully, after dragging your feet around the vast forest (not even trying to hunt in this condition), someone found you. This person turned out to be a young man, he looked like a fledgling barely out of the nest, yet he seemed to be commanding people all around and giving them orders.

He immediately picked you up from the cold ground, your numb feet finally off the snowy terrain. The young man wrapped you up in some kind of warm fur and assured you that everything would now be okay - it was admirable, how a person, who you considered a kid, logically, had so much protectiveness over a stranger child. Was this how all humans behaved?

"Don't worry okay? I'll get you warm and snug in no time!" he tried to rub your cold hands to warm them up as he rode his horse towards somewhere.

The clicking of the saddle additions and the hooves on the stony ground, where snow did not manage to cover enough to muffle the iron.

Your voice was hoarse and your throat felt painful when you spoke, but you were glad to find your voice again (though, this small and squeaky thing could never be your true voice); you needed to assure this kid that you knew you were somewhat safe now - being in a child form really has the benefits of people being kinder, you knew that way before all this.

"It's okay, I will be fine" your confidence seemed to have a positive effect as the young man calmed down a bit and continued to ride at a high speed while holding you securely in the thick makeshift blanket.

Wherever it was that he took you, it was echo-y. It reminded tiny bit of your own chambers that existed eons ago, sophisticated details and shiny gems littered all around - was this a young lord? Or a diplomat perhaps?

You found thinking hard as unconsciousness slowly took hold of your weak body. But, you jolted into full awareness when your legs were submerged in a tub of warm water - oh, that felt nice. So that was what humans did to aid frostbite... or was that something else?

"I know, I know! You hate this, but otherwise your legs will fall off!" the young man was trying to shush a child that has not even protested - you'd be a fool to not to take a helping hand.

You try to keep awake as you watch him towel your feet dry and tuck you into a bed with a thick blanket. You felt incredibly small in this form, not only physically. The fireplace at the corner casted a bright orange glow alongside some lamp crystals.

"What's your name?" you asked, barely contain yourself from adding 'kid' at the end (that probably wouldn't fit in with this situation).

The young man smiles broadly at you and sits on a small velvet chair beside the bed. "How about you call me Ajax?" he encourages and suddenly ruffles your hair.

You're caught off guard, this kind of gesture... you remember it distantly. What a warm feeling... was this what it felt like at first? Back when you lived in your mother nest with your older siblings? Before you all achieved glory and divinity?

"And what's your name?"

"'I... don't remember" lying was necessary not for any fear of this human boy, or of distrust - but to make Ajax's life a bit easier by just being a kid he saved, not a reincarnated deity.

Ajax doesn't let his expression dim as he nods in understanding "That's fine, solnyshko. Just stick with brother Ajax and I'll get you settled in Snezhnaya, okay?"

Snezhnaya... is that the nation you were in?

Either way, you appreciated the sincerity of Ajax, a kindhearted soul truly - at least to what he thinks of is an innocent child. Though you can't help but notice the different kind of look in his eyes - like darkness that lurks just beneath the surface.

"You are tired."

"Quite interesting you say that, zaichik, since you're the one who should be going to sleep right now" he jokes, squishing your doughy cheek, but you insist.

"To rest is to respect the boundaries of your nature. Nature will reward you when you listen to it." you say quietly, trying to finish before sleep finally pulls you under "Someone... told me that... long... ago..."

You don't know if your words were what made the difference between you being put in the care of a woman serving under the palace Ajax presided in; and instead being welcomed into this young man's family in the far away village, but it was a wonder how warm family feels, after all this time.

Now, Ajax will come to rest at his home frequently and you will repay this unspoken one-sided debt by silently watching over his little siblings grow.

Such true is an advice that stands through time.

Diluc ; to heal a tired heart

Mondstadt was quite the nation. A beautiful landscape, culture that would enchant anyone from anywhere. Mondstadt was largely known for brewing the finest quality wine - Dandelion wine.

Or so you've heard.

Too bad you weren't allowed to get a drop of it form the nation's best winery. The owner seemed to not even entertain the thought of giving alcohol to a 'child that seemed barely of age to walk around alone' - he said, word for word.

You weren't about to drop off all your dignity and beg a stranger for wine when you fully knew you were now inhabiting a small human's body, who was not meant to be drinking.

But something still stayed on your mind.

As you walk around the outskirt streets of the square, you catch the warm light that was coming from the Dawn Winery. The yellow of it spilling down the cobblestone ground like honey and stretching onto now empty streets.

The tavern is now empty. Lonley figure remains inside.

You step inside, making no effort to be quiet; your small, stubby legs don't make it any easier. The owner, who's hair and eyes endearingly match, looks up to see who came in; you almost laugh at how his expression drops into disappointment and amusing blankness.

You hold up your hand "Not here for a glass"

Though still looking at you with a skeptical eye, he resumes drying the wine glasses; he neatly places them all in a row on the shelf, just as he does every night before blowing out the center chandelier altogether.

"Children shouldn't be out at all at this hour. Where are your parents anyway?" technically, your parents have been turned into concepts of chaos and peace, but speaking about such mediums to a human may put this mortal being at unease; that's not what you want.

"Can I stay here for a bit? It's windy outside."

Maybe it was the nature of a soft human heart, or just unique kindheartedness to this human; either way, he allowed a stranger child - you - to stay while he wiped down the bar.

"What's your name?" you ask, taking embarrassingly long to climb a stool at the said bar.

"You come into a bar so frequently, pester me to give you alcohol and only now you ask of my name?" he says, annoyed and clearly irritated, but he relents "I'm Diluc."

"Your heart is tired, Diluc."

You were far too old to say that you couldn't stop the words tumbling out of your mouth, no, after eons of being alive, you mean every word you say.

So you didn't slap a hand over your mouth at overstepping privacy with Diluc, or pretend to be at shock at your own words. It must be quite a shock already, such words coming out of a child's mouth, gods, sometimes you wished for your godhood to be back so badly.

After looking at you with a puzzled face, Diluc raises an eyebrow "Look at you now, which grown up book did you read that phrase from?"

You knew deep down, he knew the truth of it too. His heart is tired and it's lonely; no matter how much humans try, they are still creatures of habit. Habit of enjoying company and warmth, which Diluc must have had at some point.

Always so tense, a permanent furrow in his brow.

"Don't brush my words off so easily-"

"Okay, I'll think about doing that after 10 years, after you will be a big and serious adult, how about that? Will you quiet down now?" he says as he pushed a cup of something in your direction and turns away to continue his business.

Your eyes sparkled at being able to drink wine again - until you took a swing and realized it was grape juice. Though it irked you that Diluc delighted in your surprise, it was quite a delicious bevarage.

After that, every evening, after working hours, you'd sit at the bar with a glass of grape juice; help clean up around the winery and sometimes even let your little self fall asleep at the spare sofa.

Diluc never asked about your parents again, instead offering for you to stay at the Ragvindr household. Well, mortal human life isn't as bad when you have someone who can listen to a child wax poetic with a glass of grape juice.

Even though you won't dig up any of the wounds open about his past, you want to make this human smile again. If your happiness makes him happy too, then it's good enough for you.

Time helps heal tired hearts.

Cyno ; depth of understanding

Deserts never change, you decided.

They have always been unbearably hot and full of the sands that sting your bare feet. Not to mention how delicate your skin turned out to be - not the worker kind. Thankfully, you found some abandoned camps that had a dried fruit or two still good, so you weren't starving, but you were very close to passing out from the heat.

It was frustrating. You - an eons old god that had endured all types of warfare - were now struggling to drag your feet across the scorching desert that seemed to have no end.

Silence, heat, it was sickening at a point.

After couple of days like this, you suddenly hear a noise out of the blue. Before you can even register the sound, you are faced with someone who's holding a polearm towards you threateningly.

With sun-kissed skin and clothing resembling of the roaming guards of the divine back at your time, you guess this person could be a watch-guard stationed at the desert.

You can only see one magnificently reddish eye, like the blazing sand that scorched your feet. Out of a delicately crafted amethyst headpiece, locks of long, white hair fall. A truly interesting looking individual.

"What are you here for?" he asks, curt.

"I don't know" you answer truthfully "I woke up here couple of days ago..."

He looks at you with suspicion, never once faltering his gaze down at you "Why is a child with no supervision left at the desert?" knowing that neither of them would have an answer for it, most likely, he followed up with "Where do your guardians live?"

Your guardians? you suppress a melancholic smile. You greatly miss your guardians, but in this new life, you're not sure if you have any - or if you need them.

Your stomach growls.

Scratch that, you definitely need a guardian in this new era.

"I don't know..." it was again, the truth. The stranger seemed to sense that you were being honest, since he lowered his weapon; he sighed with exhaustion.

"I will take you back to the Aaru village, but it's a long way back." he warned, as if you had a choice - or maybe it was a statement; either way, you weren't about to ignore this miracle.

You took a step closer, should you bow in greeting? Is that what people still did in this era? Should you just ask?

"What's your name?"

"My name is Cyno. How about you?" he answered and asked swiftly, seemingly also quite curious.

"I don't have one."

After pointedly looking at your feet, Cyno had no problem picking you up with his free arm to give your body some relief; it was a bit of a surprise, but you're sure you'd do the same with a small child in his place.

"That's fine, well, what do you call a child lost in the sand? Sandy, I guess."

The sudden joke caused moments of silence as you looked at his blank face in surprise, before you burst into laughter from the sheer absurdity of the joke; now that seemed to really excite the stranger as he started to make his way towards the promised civilization.

"it was funny, right?"

A child's piercing laugh was an enough answer.

Sure, your new body was a bit annoying to get used to - weak and uncoordinated. But it was worth it, living amongst these people, sharing their joys and their grieves. It's fascinating to see humans grow and to be aware of eons worth of knowledge and grow up with it, but such trials and tribulations could be mended.

As long as this kindhearted person comes by to tell you jokes that pain the rest of the village, you could deal with the rest.

The depth of mutual understandings about simple matters between the two of you. That's apparently what it means to be human.

Kazuha ; whispering of the universe

Inazuma as a nation was a bit of a mystery to you. When you woke up, you were surrounded by a sweet scent (that you later discovered were Inazuman cherry blossom trees). That, and it rained.

A lot.

The air of strange mystic aura and alluring spirits; it left you with confusion, left to wander around the beautiful flora with just the clothes on your back. Your feet hurt from worn out sandals and the weak body you were granted with had problems moving for even a day.

It frustrated you to no end, but if you have learned anything during the many thousands of years of your life, is that complaining about things you can not change is truly a waste of breath.

So, you walked on.

From time to time, you came across some lavender melons, but it wasn't enough to nourish the body of a growing child; so you knew if you didn't settle down somewhere, you were in for trouble. You were no longer a god with no binds to your strength, but a tired human child.

So, you set up a small camp, still having crystal clear memory of how to survive in wildlife - sure, Inazuma had its own quirks, but the base of it was still the same. Shelter, water, fire, food. in that order.

Your plans came crashing down when you got stuck in a small crack between two hills. You were holding onto the edge, yet you didn't have enough legroom to fling yourself up - curses! Had it been your old form, you'd been able to pull yourself up with just one hand.

Gods, were you about to die as soon as you woke up in your second life?

Suddenly, a gush of wind leaps you into the air; not having the time to even yelp, you land into stranger's waiting arms. "Hello little one, you look like you've been full of mischief" a calm voice said with no real retribution.

You looked up to see a young man with unique hair and delicate features; his gentle smile set you at ease. A vermillion streak in his light hair was an eye-catching feature, distantly reminding you of an autumn spent painting the fallen leaves with your peers.

"Where did you come from, little wanderer?" he asked, safely setting you down on the ground; he crouched down in front of you to eye level.

Finally, someone that could guide you to a nearby civilized settlement "I don't know" you decided to be truthful "I woke up nearby here..."

"My name is Kazuha, do you know where your parents might be?"

Oh boy did you want to answer with the truth, but in reality, this child's parents were probably nowhere near "I don't know that either..." gods, your whole life you hated that sentence and even subjected your diplomats to a day of lecturing whenever they used the phrase 'I don't know'.

"Alright, how about your name?"

"Don't think I have one" right now.

Kazuha nods with an unfazed smile, stands up and holds out his hand "Would you trust me to lead you back to somewhere safe? this isn't the best place for you to be" he had kind eyes that had wisdom of life embedded into its marble surface between sadness.

You guessed as such, if cracked ground and unstable weather was anything to go by; you took his hand and you two begin to make your way back to wherever Kazuha came from.

"If you don't mind me asking" you finally spoke after being silent for days, so you had to ignore the scratching of your throat "How did you end up here?"

"The wind told me."

"Oh, I see."

"You don't find it weird?"

You shook your head "Wind tells many stories."

So does the earth and the vast seas. Every leaf and every pebble tells a different, priceless story. To be in tune with one's self is to be listening to the universe around you - it rewards when one lends its stories an ear.

Kazuha found your answer pleasant, his smile stretching just a bit "It sure does."

Soon, you found yourself at a beach, or a makeshift dock of some sort - in front of a giant ship. Awed at how much bigger everything seemed from a child's eyes, you couldn't help yourself but quicken your step towards it.

As you stared at the ship, you noticed a tall lady approach you with a smile. "Hey there kiddo! Ya like the ship?" she asks with a booming voice you'd expect from a motivated general. She had an eyepatch and wore bright maroon clothing.

Was this the captain?

"It's magnificent" you answered truthfully.

"Oho! Such big words there! Smart kid! Where'd you come from?" she was standing in front of you now. She was pretty tall; in your previous form, you'd be twice as taller, but in this life, you had to painfully bend your neck.

"The small one is with me, captain Beidou" Kazuha caught up with you to stand behind. The easy smile on his face suggested the woman in front of you was an ally.

Captain Beidou seems to glow with excitement "So, coming aboard then?!" she seems ecstatic to have you on the ship. Maybe she's the type who's good with children? In that case, you're not sure if she'd like a child who has a soul of an ancient god.

Kazuha rested a hand on top of your head "I guess so, can't remember the parents or even a name. It's better if we keep this one a bit of company for now."

That's how you ended up on the Alcor, amongst the fleet that called itself 'The Crux'. Soon enough, you fell into a routine of helping around; sure, you were small and got tired easily, but you still remembered all about ships and navy - after all, you'd led soldiers across many seas before.

Looked like Beidou appreciated your helpful nature as well, looking over you with an approving expression from time to time.

Still, despite proving that you were more than capable of handling the routine aboard, Kazuha insisted on accompanying you most of the time.

Maybe because he was the one who found you, a small child, tired and bruised from horrible living conditions.

Maybe because you still tripped on your little feet from time to time, eliciting a playful laugh from everyone, including Kazuha himself, before he swiftly pulled you up back on your feet.

Maybe because Kazuha enjoyed being in company of someone who could understand his wax poetic - as you two sat at the very end of the Alcor and looked at the boundless waters of Teyvat.

He teaches you of the modern ways people try to listen to the world around them, and of haikus he loves to drop on you suddenly - maybe he thinks of you as his successor; it's a little funny, how in reality, you're the one supposed to be teaching this young soul.

But you're content to just sit beside him and listen to the whispers of the universe.

[end of part one.] [i will write one character a nation per part, any suggestions?] [thank you for reading.]

#🖋️pong letters #genshin #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcannons #genshin zhongli #genshin childe #genshin diluc #genshin cyno #genshin kazuha #zhongli #childe #tartaglia #ajax #cyno #kazuha #diluc

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zhwj · 11 months

Text

Springs and Autumns

Lately I’ve been dipping into scholar-beauty romances. A recent favorite is Jin xiang ting 錦香亭 (“Pavilion of Fragrant Brocade”) by Guwu su’an zhuren 古吳素庵主人 (Master of the Simple Hut of Suzhou), which dates to the early Qing.

It’s a short novel that fits a surprising amount of action into its sixteen chapters. The main love story between Zhong Jingqi 鍾景期 and Ge Mingxia 葛明霞 is standard scholar-beauty stuff—imperial exam success, an exchange of poetry, a scheming rival, missed connections, a helpful nun, resourceful concubines, mistaken identity resolving into a wedding, and a happily-ever-after conclusion—but it’s embedded in a larger historical narrative: the An Lushan Rebellion erupts midway through the book. Court intrigue, battlefield strategizing, and tides of refugees heighten the tension of the romantic plot and somehow make the bizarre coincidences the genre relies on seem more believable.

But the plot’s not the reason for this post. A version of the same story is told in the lost Yuan-dynasty play 孟月梅寫恨錦香亭 (“Meng Yuemei Writes of Regrets in the Pavilion of Fragrant Brocade”) about characters named Chen Gui 陳珪 and Meng Yuemei. Songs memorable enough to be preserved in other sources can be found in Song Yuan xiwen jiyi, a 1956 collection of play fragments compiled by Qian Nanyang. Here’s a delightful aria about spring, assembled from quotations of older poems; a quick translation follows:

【中呂過曲】【古山花子】賞春倦倚春風裡，春色釀成和氣。春滿人間，春綻萬紅千翠。春晴雅宜，春燕銜春壘。春心戀春如醉。春心熙熙，春景正遲遲。春來早起，滿目春山麗。仲春時，問春有幾？春及三之二。莫惹春愁，一分塵土，二分流水。春暖春煙，春雨濺春池。春夢里藹然春意，對這春草池塘賦春試。賞春花，春酒泛春杯，春果簇春桃春梨。聽得春鶯囀春啼，春在春花裡。假青春，春夜悞春期，春去後留春無計。春知我，愛春傷春春信稀。（錢南揚輯錄《宋元戲文輯佚》76）

Spent on spring pleasure, ease back into the spring wind: spring colors mix into an amiable mood. Spring fills the mortal realm, spring bursts with red and green. Spring clarity is graceful and inviting, spring swallows build spring nests. Spring hearts get drunk on spring love. Spring minds make merry, spring vistas linger. On a new spring morn, rise early to a vision of gorgeous spring mountains. By mid-spring, think how long spring may last. Spring is two-thirds gone. Refrain from spring melancholy; one part returns to dust, two parts to water. Spring warmth and spring mist, spring rain splashes into spring pools. Spring dreams harbor pleasing spring desires, bringing spring exams to these spring grasses and ponds. Enjoy spring flowers as spring wine overflows spring cups; spring fruits: clusters of spring peaches and spring pears. Hear the spring oriole sing a plaintive spring song. Spring lies within spring flowers. Fresh green spring means missed spring rendezvous on spring nights; when spring departs, spring cannot be retained. Spring gets me: spring love, spring heartache, and rare spring tidings.

I love this—the hypnotic repetition of “spring” transports me back to a class on early 20th century literature, when our professor read aloud the opening to Chapter 19 of Xu Zhenya’s bestselling 1912 sentimental romance novel in parallel prose, Yuli hun 玉梨魂 (“The Soul of Yuli” or “The Jade Pear Spirit”). For the last two decades, the lines of 秋心 “Autumn Heart” have often come to mind when the weather turns and the leaves start changing color.

黃葉聲多。蒼苔色死。海棠開後。鴻雁來時。雨雨風風。催遍幾番秋信。淒淒切切。送來一片秋聲。秋館空空。秋燕已為秋客。秋窗寂寂。秋蟲偏惱秋魂。秋色荒涼。秋容慘淡。秋情綿邈。秋興闌珊。此日秋閨。獨尋秋夢。何時秋月。雙照秋人。秋愁疊疊。並為秋恨綿綿；秋景匆匆。惱煞秋期負負。盡無限風光到眼。阿儂總覺魂銷。最難堪節序催人。客子能無感集。

Yellow leaves rustle, green moss fades. When the begonia has flowered and the snow geese have arrived, wind and rain hasten autumn’s signs, cold and chill carry autumn’s sounds. Autumn halls are vacant, autumn swallows turned sorrowful autumn travelers. Autumn windows are empty, autumn insects vex the autumn soul. Autumn’s scenes are bleak, autumn’s visage is desolate. Autumn emotion grows distant, autumn elation lies heavy. Today’s autumn boudoir holds a solitary quest for an autumn dream. What day will an autumn moon shine on an autumn pair? Layered autumn melancholy comes with unending autumn regret. Fleeting autumn vistas spur shameful autumn trysts. At the boundless vision before us, our souls take flight. In the unbearable draw of the seasons, can the sojourner remain unmoved?

I have to say I prefer the freer lines of the Yuan lyric to the constrained pulse of four- and six-character phrases that makes up the pianwen style. Here I’ve prioritized the repetition of “autumn” and tried to capture at least at least some of the parallelism, and while this approach does manage to set a mood, the amount of amplification necessary in English would, I feel, make for excruciatingly verbose prose whenever anything actually had to happen. I’m not sure I could keep it up for more than a paragraph or two, or be capable of reading much more than that, to be honest—and the novel runs to 30 chapters. But someone’s given it a try: an English translation by Gong Xiaohui under the title The Death of Yuli was published earlier this year. I’m honestly curious about the translator’s approach.

But I’m more keen to find additional examples of this type of dense repetition in Chinese writing. Any suggestions?

#poetry #spring #autumn #repetition

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