#King Hou Chang

[moviesiveseenandwanttoremember]

E.A. Dupont’s “Piccadilly” June 1, 1929.

[dorothygale123]

Since I've made a lot of mythology sh*tposts, I decided to make a masterlist for anyone who wants to skip around quickly.

The 5 Emperors

Red Son and the Red Emperor

Xing Tian, the headless giant

Red Emperor 2, the Reddening

Chiyou causes problems

Yellow Emperor makes a corpse drum (yes, really)

My fellow nerd and I have a lot to say about weeds

Dragons

The dragon princess and the dumbest in laws ever

The Dragon Kings who don't do anything

Ao Qin shows us why we shouldn't give in to peer pressure

Moving branches on the dragon family tree

China has a dragon problem

The Sun and Moon

The very similar stories of Hou Yi and Shen I

Erlang Shen killed the suns too

Why the 10 Suns were being jerks

The 12 Moons

Ancient Chinese Alice in Wonderland

More fun stuff about the 10 suns

Does Hou Yi have a backstory?

A dramatic retelling of the 10 suns myth

Earth and Sky

Eggs come up a lot, actually

Nuwa cleans up a big mess-

-But there was still more for Yu to clean later

Why is the sky all the way up there?

Sun Wukong

The 4 Spiritual Primates + 4 Elements

The Old Mother of Waters gets some bad takeout

Sun Wukong's first crime (they grow up so fast)

A more dramatic telling of how Monkey became Monkey King

The Underworld

The Chinese underworld is very judgy

But it also has a wholesome grandma who feeds you

Kuan Yin

Kuan Yin, Goddess of Mercy

Kuan Yin 2, Electric Boogaloo

Kuan Yin 3, This Time It's Personal

Rulers of the Cosmos

Xiwangmu, the Jade Emperor, and Nuwa

The Jade Emperor is someone's OC

Possible line of succession for the rulers of the cosmos

Was the Jade Emperor in charge for Wukong's entire life?

Shangdi and the void where his characterization used to be

How the Jade Emperor got his badass wife

Miscellaneous

Si-Men Bau is a genius

The very heterosexual fox and his 'drinking buddy'

This fox had one job and he decided to create footbinding instead

Seriously, what are the 8 trigrams?

Erlang Shen plays Sidekick while th 4 kings get their asses whooped

The 5 members of the 4 Guardian Beasts

The 5th Element isn't just an old movie

The cow can jump over the moon, but not the Milky Way

Cute figures I don't need got my research blood pumping

And I needed 2 posts to geek out appropriately

Dragon Ball Parallels

More info on some cool critters that happen to have adorable minis

Oops, is that Plato in my Chinese Mythology?

Bulma Briefs, Great Tang Monk

Tien Shinhan, Lord of Sichuan

Yamcha, River Spirit of the Desert and Puar the Dragon Horse

[quitealotofsodapop]

Sun Wukong is such a cool character across the board since if you genderbent the character - very little would change other than the reactions of those around them.

LMK: Same character. Only difference is brief confusion from MK and Tang, who adjust their pronouns when speaking of Dawn accordingly. Relationship with Macaque unchanged.

Hero is Back: Short red hair, chewing on hay, tall af? Thats half the butch farmers in my county. Liuer has a brief moment of "The Great Sage is a woman?" before going straight back to fanboying about how cool Dasheng is. Zhu Bajie is likely shocked and appalled that he was defeated by a woman - tho still shoots his shot. Attract does not work on Dasheng. Story accidentally becomes a tale of a mother sacrificing her life to protect her son, and ends with the son sacrificing himself to protect his new mother.

Reborn: Still a chaotic hissing gremlin of a monkey. Brief moment of funny where the very feminine Taoist acolytes misgender Smokey as male since she still looks the same. Zhu Bajie hesistates to hit on Smokey (despite her very convincingly diguising herself as his wife during his recruitment), since she terrifies him. Smokey still arises from their false death cloaked in blue flame and lava. And still mourns the loss of Fruitie.

NewGods: Bigger plot twist of Ace's identity. No one has figured out her identity for so long (including Ao Guang) cus they all assumed SWK was a guy. Still a giggling, gambling lush. Yunxiang: "Hey whos this drunken, half-dressed old lady offerring to train me in exchange for a motorbike- oh sweet Buddha she's the Monkey King."

1999/2000 Cartoon: Sugar is already femme af. No change.

Netflix: Little character change, though Cherry's story would indirectly become a glass ceiling situation with the Immortals. Men can become immortal by killing lots of evil demons (source: Erlang & Hou Yi), but women gotta suffer (source: Guanyin). Bonus girl bonding with Lin.

Smash Legends: Starfruit leans into gender stereotypes for the views. Goes full tiktok e-girl with her asethetic. Would form punk girl band with Goldie.

And lets not forget how many live-action Sun Wukongs are played by women actors and/or stuntwomen.

Gender bending their Macaques also do not change much. Basically these monkeys could be any gender indentity and still be themselves

[lmk-oc-competition]

LMK OC COMPETITION - ROUND 5

click to see full image

Yue belongs to @kirbysdreamlands

Jun belongs to @camhues

Learn more about them below the cut!

Yue:

this is my sweetheart of a LMK OC, Yue! They’re a jumpy, finicky young baker who works with their adopted moms’ shop “The Burrow,” a bakery and sweets shop who specializes in moon cakes! What they lack on self-confidence, they make up for in being a huge sweetheart, sensitive but loyal and caring to their friends to a fault.

They’re also the kid between Chang’e and Hou Yi, kept a secret away from the Celestial Realm, and gifted to their moms after praying for a child, both parties wishing for them to have a normal and kind life on Earth.

The powers (and horrors) catch up eventually though. They're my sweet cheese, my good time bun! 🐇

Jun:

Kind and gentle, Jun is seen as a mother figure to many. A shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, she will stay by your side and provide advice and comfort as needed. Jun would never turn anyone away that needed her help. Jun is quiet and soft spoken, but won’t hesitate to defend her loved ones physically or verbally.

Jun is a middle aged librarian in Megopolis, maintaining a mundane but content existence. For most of her life, she thought of herself as unassuming and simply wanted to continue her role as MK’s mother figure. But once she finally seemed settled into her life, it seemed her world had been turned upside down and constantly changes.

Throughout the series, Jun has to cope with the loss of her quiet life before MK picked up the Monkey King’s staff and face the challenges that come against her and the rest of the Monkie Kid Crew-as well as embrace the changes she finds herself going through in the process. She finds she has more power than she ever thought possible for a woman like her…

[mermaidxatxheart]

Ribbed II

This is the sequel to Ribbed. I hope you enjoy it. Comments and reblogs show me love.

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Word Count: 4450

Warnings: Benny is taking over as the pussy eating king. Sorry Pedro, usual smut, idk. does it even matter?

Previous Part

Master List

Come over.

You stare at the text message for a solid minute before dropping your phone onto your desk. Benny needed to stop. What happened between the two of you last week could never happen again. He’s your brother’s best friend, and if Mick ever found out, he would probably explode. 

Please?

You groan and flip your phone screen down to avoid temptation. You flex your fingers over your keyboard and try to focus on your work. But the memory of Benny crowds your memory, fighting for dominance at the forefront of your brain. 

“That’s my girl.” Whispers against the shell of your ear and you shudder. “So fucking good.” A breathy moan, your name a desperate plea that traces down your spine. 

“God damn it.” You mutter, grabbing your phone. 

I have air conditioning.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You type out a quick reply, fingers flying over the keys on your screen. 

We can’t. It has to be just the one time. We were drunk. It doesn’t count. 

Setting your phone down, you shake your hands as you try to rid yourself of the anxiety bubbling up inside you. 

I don’t want it to be just the one time. It definitely counts if I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. 

You press your thighs together, fighting against the memory of the way he felt there. The tender feel of his lips against yours. It didn’t feel like a random hookup at the time, but you’re definitely a coward. You’ve been avoiding both Benny and your brother ever since that night. 

Come over.

Staring at his name, with his picture, your weak will power crumbles and your fingers are typing before you can really protest or talk yourself out of it. 

…..when?

Tonight?

You sigh, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. 

Fine. Now leave me alone. I’m trying to work!

He doesn’t text you back, but that’s just as bad. Jesus, fix it. 

***

You pull up in front of Benny’s house, looking at the windows with no small amount of trepidation. You can’t loiter outside all night and if you don’t show, he’ll just pester you until you do. You shut off the engine and climb out, heading for the front door. 

Your fist hovers over the wood for a long time as you get your courage up. If he doesn’t have you naked within ten minutes, it’ll be a miracle. 

You groan, give your whole body a forceful shake and rap quickly on the door before you can talk yourself out of it. You stare at the welcome mat beneath your heels, wishing you had stopped at home to change out of your work dress and into comfortable leggings and flip flops. The wait stretches out and you tell yourself you’ll give him thirty more seconds before you leave and tell him you knocked but he didn’t answer. His fault. 

Then the door opens and a gust of what can only be described as Benny hits you and your knees go weak. Irish spring soap, hint of sweat, old spice deodorant, and something specific to him that makes it all work. 

“Hey, I’m just making-wow.” He says softly and you look up, frowning. You wish you hadn’t. He’s wearing gym shorts that hang loosely on him, a Motley Crüe tee shirt, his stupid backward hat, and a dish towel slung over his broad shoulder. Droplets are clinging to his hair, like he’s just gotten out of the shower. Looking so domestic shouldn’t be such a turn on. You have to force yourself not to notice all the little things about him that make you want to drop your panties right here in the doorway. 

“What?”

“You look amazing.” He says, stepping back to let you in. 

“Oh.” You enter carefully, determined not to slip on the polished hardwood floor. Benny never struck you as the type to have his shit together. He seems like the type that bounces around from apartment to apartment when his lease is up, the bare minimum of furniture: a couch, a tv, a bed. But his house is… nice. The hardwood floors are well taken care of, polished, clean, dust free. There are pictures and decorations hanging on the wall, some of it art, some of it personal. There’s a rug under a coffee table and the most comfortable looking couch you’ve ever seen, plush and tall. It looks like it will cradle you and support you in all the right ways. There’s a damn shoe rack by the door, what the fuck. 

You pause, looking at the shoe rack with his boots and sneakers lined up neatly. You lift your foot to pull off your heel and he stammers. 

“You can leave them on.” He manages and you chuckle. 

“I don’t wanna scratch your floors.” You say, but also, your toes are cramping. He offers his hand for you to use as balance and you grip it tightly, pulling off your shoes and placing them on the rack. You look back up at him, significantly taller than you now. 

“You said you were making something?” You prompt and he nods, pulling the towel off his shoulder. 

“Chicken Marsala.” He says, turning and heading for the kitchen. “I figured you’d be hungry, and I thought maybe we could talk…” he trails off. He stirs a pot on the stove and you lean against the door frame, watching him. 

“Talk?” You repeat. 

“Yeah. I figure we owe it to each other.” He says, licking sauce off his finger as he meets your gaze. “Right?” You nod mutely. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want some wine?”

“I think drinking is what got us into this situation.” You remind him and he grins. 

“Fair.” He grabs a bottle of your favorite red wine and sets it on the island bar. “Whenever you want it.” He says, going back to cooking. 

Oh, what the hell. You’re gonna need something to make it through this. You pour yourself a glass and move through to the living room. There’s a dining table off to the side, in front of some sliding glass doors to the backyard. There are actual chairs at the table, a complete set. Color you impressed. 

A polished mirror hangs over a side table with pictures of him and his war buddies. You look at the pictures, Benny catching your eye in every single one. Strong, tall, competent. Then you lift your gaze to the mirror and spot him watching you from the kitchen. He sends you a warm smile, wiping his fingers on the towel. You straighten your shoulders and a mark at the base of your neck catches your attention. 

Instantly, you remember Benny over you, pressing you into your couch, sucking and biting on your neck as you cum around him. Your face flushes and you drop your gaze once more. You need stronger willpower. But then, there’s a reason your gym membership has lapsed and there’s a half eaten package of Oreos you got yesterday. 

Soft fingers trail lightly down your arm and your entire body electrifies. You suck in a breath, looking up to meet Benny’s gaze in the mirror. You can see the plates on the table but as you turn, you only have eyes for him. His gaze is intense, trapping you. Memories of that night dance through your mind, the way he felt on you, the desperate way he held you. 

You want it again. Your brain short circuits and before you know it, you’ve pulled him to you and you’re kissing him. 

God, you don’t realize how much you need this. His hands grip your back, lifting you and kissing you like his very life depends on it. He lifts you up and walks you backward into the edge of the table, still kissing you desperately. You moan against his lips, dragging in a ragged breath of air before giving back into him. 

His lips are feverish as they trail down your jaw, your neck, leaving blisters of pure bliss. He has you up on the table before you even realize it, leaving marks on your neck. The heat that blazes down your spine is unreal as you pull his face back up to yours. 

Did he kiss you like this last time? This feels different, almost possessive. 

His big hand slides up your thigh, avoiding that spot behind your knee as he grips the meat of it, spreading you a little wider for him. His hips are rocking against yours, dry humping you despite the fact that he towers over you. 

Fuck, he’s a great kisser. 

You rock back against him, trying to angle your hips for better friction. The heat is pooling low in your belly now, simmering while all of his attention is focused above your waist. 

“Lean back.” He whispers, pulling away from your mouth just long enough to urge you backward. You want to keep kissing him, you never want the kissing to end, but the look in his pretty blue eyes has you obeying. 

He drags his nose down your torso, kissing the fabric of your work dress as he goes, his fingers curling around the hem of it at your thighs. He pulls it up as far as the table will let him. He guides your feet to his shoulders, kissing your ankles.

“Lift your hips, baby.” He says and you hesitantly push against his shoulders. “You’re not going to hurt me.” He promises, gripping your calves. You push a little harder, surprised when he doesn’t budge an inch. Your hips lift off the table and he pushes your dress up over your waist, exposing your stomach as well. He steps closer, lifting you higher and he pulls your panties down slowly, watching them track down your thighs, over your knees, your shins before they’re dangling on your ankles in front of his face.

You expect him to push into you, primed as you are in this position, but he doesn’t. Instead, he kneels, lowering your legs slowly. He takes off your panties and they disappear, never to be seen again. He guides your legs to either side of his head, dragging his nose up your thighs, inhaling and kissing his way. 

“You smell like heaven.” He murmurs, spreading your lips. “Fuck.” He moans, licking a slow stripe up your heated center. You whimper at the promise of pleasure. If there’s one thing you’re sure of, Benny Miller knows how to eat pussy. 

His tongue flicks at your clit and the series of moves he does next leaves you breathless and gripping at his hair. His hat had been knocked off at some point during your make out session. 

“B-Benny,” you gasp and he dives deeper, fingers gripping your waist as he holds you to him, drinking from you like he’s dying of thirst. His blue eyes flicker to yours and he buries his mouth against your clit, sucking it right off your body. He growls, it vibrates through you and you arch off the table at it. “F-fuck! Right there right there.” You urge and he doubles his efforts, shoving you head first over the edge. You cum in his mouth and he slurps it all up, not showing any sign of slowing down. 

Your muddled mind flashes on a comment he made last week, Later, I’m gonna eat you until you can’t fucking stand.

Oh god. 

His tongue and lips are pulling noises from you that you didn’t even know you could make. No part of you is left neglected by his mouth, he’s determined to live up to his word. Your legs are shaking as his tongue nudges and swirls and flicks at your clit. You’re trying not to trap his head between your thighs, but somehow you really don’t think he’d mind. He moans, and that needy sound sends you over the edge again. Your hips buck and you grab for his big hands. He laces his fingers with yours, blue eyes on your face again. 

His tongue laps at your slit, catching your cum, but he doesn’t come up for air. He just keeps eating you. Puffs of his breath skate over your mound and he’s back to sucking your clit right off your body. 

“B-Benny,” you gasp, vision spinning and you feel his grin. You try to pull at your stuff dress, it’s restricting, you can’t breathe in it. He urges you to one more orgasm, this time your legs do trap his head for a minute as you tremble through it. Then he pulls away, almost reluctantly, helping you sit up. 

“Let’s get you out of this dress, baby.” He mutters, reaching around you to unzip it. You wrap your arms around his waist for support as he does the work. You can’t help yourself, you press kisses against his chest, nuzzling into him. He’s so solid, so permanent against you. In return, he’s kissing along your neck as he struggles with your zipper for a second. “How do you do this by yourself in the morning?” He mutters, lips fluttering against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck. You moan, arching into him. 

“It’s easier in the morning.” You pull at the hem of his shirt, sliding your fingers along his taut muscles. You lift it up to expose his bare chest and you lick and kiss at him, blindly finding a nipple and teasing it with your tongue. 

“Mmm.” He hums, finally sliding the zipper down. He pulls it, loosening the dress around you before lifting the dress off over your head. His lips are on yours before it’s even left his hands. He’s kissing you desperately, holding your body tight against his. Fucking shouldn’t have this much kissing, right? He shouldn’t be kissing you like his very life depends on it. And yet, you’re kissing him back just as hard. His fingers pinch your bra clasp and that’s gone in the blink of an eye. You’re fully naked on his dining room table. 

“Can you stand?” He asks softly, pulling away enough to tilt your head back and kiss along your throat. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You reply, holding onto his shoulders. 

“Okay. Lay back.” He urges, kissing down your chest and trapping a nipple in his mouth. 

You lay back, the wood cold against your newly exposed skin. He kisses his way down your body and spreads your thighs once more. 

“You’re fucking delicious. I could spend hours doing this to you.” He says, tracing your clit lightly with his thumb. You buck your hips in response to the touch and he chuckles. “In fact, I just might.” He adjusts your hips and dives in again, starting off strong. You moan, not sure how much more you can take from his perfect mouth. 

He lets your legs drape over his broad shoulders, big hands now cupping your tits and teasing your nipples as he eats you to blinding orgasm after orgasm. One bleeds into the next, your eyes are rolled back into your head, or crossed, you don’t even know. Your thighs are shaking constantly, but you can’t move, can’t squirm, he hasp you trapped. He’s making just as much noise as you are, moaning and growling possessively 

After six, or maybe nine? You try to push his head away, whimpering. “N-n-no more.” You beg and he’s slow to pull off, still sucking your clit as he does. 

“Fucking best pussy I’ve ever had.” He says, massaging your thighs a little. “You did so good.” He looks down at you, panting and boneless on his table. “Mhm, I need you like this every day.” He says, moving around you and hooking his arms under your knees and shoulders. 

“Can’t handle every day.” You shake your head before resting it on his shoulder. 

He chuckles. “Okay, every other day.” You don’t even argue because you know now you don’t actually have the power to resist him. He’s too good, too much of what you need. 

He sets you gently on the couch and starts undressing himself as you watch. He’s a fucking work of art, muscles within muscles, long and lean and powerful. You reach for him, wanting to taste him. He stopped you last time, but you need to this time, if only to give your poor cunt a break. 

“Pretty girl,” he captures your wrist. 

You look up at him with pleading eyes. “I wanna taste you.” You say softly and he groans, running fingers through his messy hair. 

“Can you kneel?” He asks, moving around to the back of the couch. You nod and roll, propping yourself over the back of it. It’s the perfect height for him. He strokes his hard cock, giving it a forceful tug as you open your mouth. “If you make me cum before I have a chance to fuck you again,” he starts.

“I’ll just get you hard again.” You promise, reaching for his shaft. Remembering how good it felt inside you had you dripping. You’re not leaving without it tonight. 

You lick the tip slowly, tasting the salt of his sweat, the sweet precum. You drag your tongue around the crown and slide him into your mouth. You suck as you pull him back out, focused like a laser on this part of him. In as deep as you can get him, sucking hard on his way out. Tongue flickering against the tip and massaging along the sensitive underside as you slide him in deep. 

It isn’t until he grunts, fingers buried into the back of the couch that you think to look up at his face. Twisted in concentration, he’s watching your every move like a hawk. Your own eyebrows furrow, wondering if you’re doing it wrong. 

He lets out a breathy chuckle and smooths your eyebrows back down. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me with your hot little mouth, I’m trying not to cum immediately.” He says and you smile around his cock.

You pull it out, licking down his shaft. “I want you to cum in my mouth. I wanna taste it. Plus, I came plenty in yours. Fair is fair.” You remind him, flicking your tongue out against his balls. He hisses. You lift his hand off the back of the couch and place it in your hair. Something about a man’s hand fisting in your hair as you suck him off has you weak. Especially if that man is Benny Miller. 

You worship his balls for a minute, licking them, sucking them into your mouth as you watch his face, lazily stroking his shaft. 

“Oh fuck.” He moans, pulling your hair tie out and gathering your hair in his hands. He definitely has a thing about your hair being down while he’s with you. He did it last time, too. “Right there, baby. Oh fuck, that’s perfect.” He moans. 

You kiss back up his shaft, sliding him deep into your mouth, tapping the back of your throat as you start to bob your head. You grip his ass, pulling him closer so you can get deeper. He slides down your throat and you swallow around him. He growls and bucks his hips. 

You start bobbing your head faster, using your tongue wherever you can reach. His hips are starting to thrust, too, and watching him use your mouth for his pleasure when so far he’s been all about yours, is such a turn on. 

You pull him closer still, holding him in place where he can’t pull out at all. He’s throbbing in your mouth and you can feel him getting closer. You start sucking harder, massaging his balls. You look up at his handsome face, finding his eyes already trained on you. His cock swells in your mouth and you bury him down your throat, feeling him cum. You let him pull out slightly, his cum spurting onto your tongue and filling your mouth. You close your eyes in bliss, tasting it, rolling it around as you suck and massage his shaft for all of it. 

Finally he pulls out and you swallow every last drop with a soft hum of approval. 

“Fuck.” He surges forward, kissing you hungrily, fingers tangle in your hair as his tongue invades your mouth, licking into every corner and dancing with yours. You pump his cock, feeling how hard he still is. “You’re fucking perfect.” He groans, pulling back to look at you. You kiss him again but he only allows it for a second before pulling away. 

He moves around the couch and you’re about to sit back down but he grabs your hips. “Stay right here, beautiful. This is how I want you.”

You arch your back down, presenting your cunt to him with a playful wiggle of your ass and he groans, spreading you and licking your cunt again. “So fucking good.” He moans, starting to eat you out once more. The desperate way he’s devouring you triggers an orgasm before you can even try to stop him. You cry out, bucking and grinding against his face. He really is insatiable. He holds you firmly in place as he eats you out again, this time sliding two fingers inside. You tighten around them involuntarily as he finds your g-spot. They stick to it like glue, rubbing in time with his mouth suck you and you’re seeing stars. Mouth hanging open as he drags another three orgasms from you this way. Your cum is dripping down your thighs, his elbow, his chin, but you can’t stop. He won’t let you. 

You're nearly in tears when he finally pulls away, his fingers sliding out of your drenched cunt and leaving your trembling walls to flutter around nothing. 

You feel his cockhead press against your entrance and he slides in slowly, letting you feel every inch as he buries himself to the hilt inside you. His arms brace against the back of the couch, caging you in. You can feel his broad chest, mere inches from yours. He nestles home inside you, forehead resting against the back of your skull. 

“Lean forward.” He urges, guiding you forward until you can’t anymore. He rocks into you slowly, shifting his arms around you, holding you. It’s so tender, so soft, it doesn’t belong with two people who are just fucking. But it feels right. It feels like Benny. 

Kisses are pressed against the crown of your head, down the side until he reaches your ear. “Feel so fucking good around me.” He praises softly. “So fucking good. I can’t get enough of you.” He kisses down your neck. “I’ll make it okay.” He says and you frown slightly, wondering what he means, but his words are soon forgotten as he starts to move a little more inside you, building up to a good speed. 

You whimper and he clutches your hands, holding you tight against him. You can only cling to his long fingers as he fucks you, that pleasure building fast. He’s filling you in a whole new way, reaching parts of you he didn’t last time. Kisses are pressed against your shoulder as he thrusts faster and faster, marks are sucked into your skin, claiming you for himself. 

You didn’t notice the mirror hanging on the wall across from you. It’s hanging at the perfect height to see him fucking you, lost in pleasure as he buries his face in your neck. Puffs of breath on your heated skin, and he looks up, seeing you watching him in the mirror. Never mind your own fucked out look. 

“So fucking pretty, baby. Look how good you’re taking my cock. Look how pretty you look.” He murmurs, his eyes trained on your face in the mirror. “Cum. Cum for me baby. See how pretty you are when you cum. See why I can’t get enough of you.” He urges, thrusting faster, deeper. He nibbles at your earlobe, fingers, still twisted in yours, pinching at a nipple. You buck, mouth falling open as he makes you cum. He kisses up your jaw, licking and sucking another love bite. “Fucking gorgeous.” He praises. “You have me wound so tight, I won’t last much longer, baby. You feel so good.” He growls. 

One hand stays trapped around you. The other slides between your thighs, strumming your clit and you let out a pathetic cry, cumming again. Your walls squeeze and roll against his shaft, trying to keep him inside you. 

“That’s it baby. So good. Squeeze me so tight.” He praises, keeping his fingers moving against your clit. “Keep watching us, pretty girl. Watch me cum inside you, fill you to the brim.” 

Despite the fact that your eyes desperately want to roll back in your head, you watch him in the mirror. His forehead furrowed in concentration, his eyes focused on you and you alone, his hair messy from all the times you grabbed it while he ate you out. 

Another pinch to your nipple, rolling it between his expert fingers. He licks a bead of sweat off your shoulder and you thrust back against him. 

“Do it.” You tell him, watching his face in the mirror. “Fill me up. Cum inside me. I wanna feel you filling me.” You beg and his whole face relaxes. His forehead rests against your crown. He’s mumbling something but you can’t quite make it out. He doubles his efforts on your poor abused clit, forcing another final orgasm from you before he thrusts in completely, cumming inside you. He growls, thrusting once, twice, three times to bury all his cum where it belongs. You slump in his arms, completely worn out. He rests against you, not quite his full weight but enough of it to keep you where he wants you, under him. You watch his face in the mirror, entranced by the tenderness you see there. 

He doesn’t move for a long time, keeping you stuffed full of his cock, making sure his cum doesn’t leak out. “Are you okay?” He asks quietly. 

You nod. You’re better than okay. You’re orbiting Saturn in orgasmic bliss. 

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He offers and you look at him, twisting your face to the side. 

“Yeah.” You nod and he kisses you deeply, leaving no doubt in your mind that this will happen again. Probably in a couple hours. 

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He pulls out of you with a reluctant groan and you have to agree. You’d like him to stay right there forever. 

“Then can we eat?” You ask and he tips his head back, laughing. 

“Yeah, baby. We can eat.”

@everythingisoverrated @musings-of-a-rose @littlenosoul

[respawnjupiter]

╰┈➤Starfruits✮Trio꩜

Sun Wukong, Saimiri, and Macaque are NOT a ship. It is a platonic trio because I ship Saimiri with Sandy.

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More info about Saimiri below the cut

Background I got from the LEGO Monkie Kid's Background wiki.

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🌷 Saimiri (Sanwei Songshu Hou) is my LEGO Monkie Kid oc. She is a stone monkey/celestial primate just like Sun Wukong and Six Eared Macaque, except she has 3 tails and has been alive since the Ice Age. She's had 2 significant events in her life that have altered her entirely, this is a reference to the 2 arrows Buddhist saying. She experienced her first arrow (physical pain) when the world was changing from the Ice Age and she lost her entire tribe while the world broke apart. The second arrow (what your mind does) is when she goes on a journey with Princess Qing Yun and Aditi to learn what the meaning of living is.

🌷 She is encased in an iceberg by mystical ice for a very log time until Mei accidentally frees her using the Samadhi Fire. She then meets MK and becomes his 3rd mentor to teach him about the importance of empathy, emotional intelligence, and control over his emotions. She prefers to hang around Sandy more than anyone else in the friend group because she doesn't like much attention and she feels inferior to Monkey King and Macaque since she hasn't done as amazing things as they have. Sandy is also her best friend since they both understand how important mental health is. 

🌷 Her main weapon is a longbow and she summons two arrows by using the stars, she shoots both arrows at once but will also use a double-edged sword for close combat. Her three tails are a reference to the Buddhist saying "Three things cannot be hidden. The Sun, The Moon, and The Truth", this is to say that she is meant to symbolize the truth because she's the third piece to the story between Sun Wukong and Macaque. She knows the truth and she has seen all sides to the story, the truth cannot be hidden and she knows it's inevitable until everyone knows her truth.

[lmkobsessedmoth]

LGBTQ hot line

Welcome to the woods of the moth man. This post shall be an introduction ish thing for new people and for people who need a refresher (please note I’ll be adding more to this post as time goes on and I reveal more about my au and introduce new characters)

🌙About me💫

Hi I’m Loyd/the moth man

I’m a nonbinary trans man (pronouns they/him) and I would appreciate that you use my preferred pronouns when talking to me

I love answering questions so don’t be afraid to send me asks (unless you’re going to ask me something invasive or to draw your oc) 

I love interacting with people and answering their questions but please do not message me without my permission. I have social anxiety so I would appreciate it if you sent your messages to my ask box

I’m not in a lot of fandoms but I do like monkey kid, arcane, murder drones, fnaf, gacha life/club and avatar the last air bender

Here’s what my sona looks like (I haven’t drawn a full reference for them yet)

About my art

I’m an artist and storyteller who loves to share ideas and random scenarios through their artwork

I’ve been drawing for almost 5 years and have been an lmk fan artist for half of that time which my style makes obvious 

The only social media I post my art on is tumblr and discord (I use it post my art and twitter and koo but I stopped for a few reasons). If you see my art on any other platforms please report the account as that’s not me 

I do requests but only regarding the lmk show and my fan au. Please do not ask me to draw your ocs as I can’t do that with how my mind works

If you want to make fan art of my oc’s or au that is completely fine just credit and ping me, I would love to see it

I do not do art trades so don’t ask me about those

Do not trace or repost my art on other platforms. I’ve spent years working on my art skills and would rather people see my art through reblogs and links to my posts rather then someone taking my work and putting it on their social media with credit or not 

People who I don’t want to interact with (tw, mention of problematic shipping and bigotry)

Pro shippers and people who support problematic ships that contain things like incest or pedophilia will not be supported on my account or in my community

Racists, homophobs and general bigotry. Reality Can suck and I want this blog to be a break from that so if you think that people who are just living their lives as who they are is bad then this isn’t the community for you

Ai bros. Ai is cool for something’s but not for replacing people like artists and writers. I do not consent to having my work be used in ai at any point in time

Art “fixers” and people who generally change a characters design, race or body type to “fix” them aren’t supported here as it only hurts the artist who made the original art that gets changed to fit an agenda (redesigning a character for fun is fine)

You’re under the age of 12 to 13. My art and scenarios can deal with some serious topics that aren’t suitable for young children and personally I don’t feel comfortable talking to very young children

✨Information of my lmk au🌙

The death au (place holder name) is about mk and the gang finally getting a chance to breathe and get used to the new world after the events of seasons 3 through 5, that is until spirits and humanoid monsters start seeping into the 3 realms and mk starts getting dreams about past events. Mk being the hero he is try’s to deal with the spirits alone but his efforts (and nightmares) don’t go unnoticed for long as macaque agreed to teach him more about spirits and how to not summon 1 that will destroy the city

(This may change in the future)

✨Oc’s included in the death au🌙

Ren Yu ling

Diedie

Bendy

Hou lin wel

The king of the north

The mystery maiden

The lady

✨Bonus Oc’s🌙

The tiny dragon

The assistant

[baoshan-sanren]

best cdramas I’ve watched since the last one of these posts in 2023 (and some I’m still looking forward to seeing)

A League of Nobleman (watch on WeTV VIP | watch on AppleTV | watch on Viki | watch on bilibili | watch on YouTube) Adapted from the novel "The Mystery of Zhang Guo" (张公案) by Da Feng Gua Guo (大风刮过) starring Jing BoRan, Song WeiLong, Hong Yao, Guo Cheng and Wang Duo. Definitely gay, but in like a very focused, we-have-a-mystery-to-solve way. Loved the acting and the plot; cannot believe people actually gave Song Weilong shit for his acting in this drama. He was aMAzing. The downside is that the editing grew progressively sloppier as the drama progressed, and although majority of the visuals were very satisfying, I never realized how crappy the quality of the light was until I tried gifing some of the scenes. The upside is Jing BoRan holding kittens. Enough Said. 7/10

The Blood of Youth (watch on Viki | watch on YouTube) Adapted from the novel "Shao Nian Ge Xing" (少年歌行) by Zhou Mu Nan (周木楠) starring Li HongYi, Liu XueYi and Ao RuiPeng. Love this goddamn drama. I adopted the entire cast within the first 3 episodes and then I spent the next 37 terrified that half of them would get killed off. There’s def some major character death in this drama my chickens, so keep that in mind (and not a canonical death either, from what I understand). Anyway, this is my fave genre by far so I’m never really picky, but this drama is exhilarating and gorgeous from beginning to end. Highly recommend. 9/10

New Life Begins (watch on iQIYI | watch on Viki | watch on YouTube) Adapted from the web novel "Qing Chuan Ri Chang" (清穿日常) by Duo Mu Mu Duo (多木木多) starring Bai JingTing and Tian XiWei. Just sweet and fluffy. The plot is easy and devoid of complexities, but very satisfying nonetheless. The acting is definitely on another level. The entire cast has bonkers chemistry, and it’s about time someone made good use of Bai Jingting’s comedy potential. One of the top 5 easy viewing dramas on my rewatch list.  8/10

The Legendary Life of Queen Lau (watch on Viki | watch on YouTube) Adapted from the web novel "Huang Hou Liu Hei Pang" (皇后刘黑胖) by Ge Yang (戈鞅) starring Li JiaQi and Li HongYi. Loved this. Although it doesn’t shy away from difficult subjects, this is basically a comedy from beginning to end. Not gonna lie, I mainly gave this a go for Li Hongyi, but it’s hard to even notice him when Li Jiaqi is in the room. There’s no shame in being overshadowed by superior talent :) 7/10

(yeah, after all this, I rewatched Nirvana In Fire again)

Under the Microscope (watch on Apple TV | watch on Bilibili | watch on iQIYI VIP | watch on Viki) Adapted from the novel "Xian Wei Jing Xia De Da Ming" (显微镜下的大明) by Ma Bo Yong (马伯庸) starring Zhang RuoYun and Wang Yang. Continuously impressed by Zhang RuoYun’s skills. This drama is 90% grit and tension. Drool-worthy visuals. Interesting plot. Sound mixing that gives me a Mo Ran style boner. Make your friends watch it and they will hate you. 9/10

Till The End of The Moon (watch on YouTube | watch on Apple TV | watch on Viki) Adapted from the web novel "Hei Yue Guang Na Wen BE Ju Ben" (黑月光拿稳BE剧本) by Teng Luo Wei Zhi (藤萝为枝). Starring Luo Yunxi and Bai Lu. This was so breathtakingly gorgeous. The chemistry between the actors, the visuals, the special effects, the costumes, everything is stunning in this drama. The romance is by no means original, but still manages to draw you in. Absolutely worth watching at least once. 8/10

Still waiting on:

Immortality - based on danmei novel The Husky and His White Cat Shizun by 肉包不吃肉 starring Chen Feiyu and Luo Yunxi (you can think I’m a clown but you’d be wrong bc I’m a wholeass circus)

Winner Is King - based on the danmei novel Sha Po Lang by Priest starring Tan Jianci and Chen Zheyuan

Step By Step Lotus - based on historical novel Return to Ming Dynasty as Prince by 月关 starring Zhang Binbin and Luo Yunxi

Eternal Faith - based on danmei novel Heaven Official’s Blessing by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu starring Zhai Xiaowen and Zhang Linghe

Joy Of Life Season 2 - based on wuxia novel of the same name by 猫腻 starring Zhang Ruoyun and Li Qin

Story of Kunning Palace - based on the novel 坤宁 by 时镜 starring Bai Lu and Zhang LingHe

Flying Phoenix - based on danmei novel of the same name by 風弄 starring Dai Jingyao and Shu Yaxin

The Story of the Bat - based on danmei novel Bat by Feng Nong starring Mao Zijun and Zhang Yao

The Longest Promise - based on xianxia novel Zhu Yan by 沧月 starring Xiao Zhan, Ren Min, and Zhang Yunlong

Mysterious Lotus Casebook - based on wuxia novel 吉祥纹莲花楼 by Teng Ping 藤萍 starring Cheng Yi and Zeng ShunXi

Follow Your Heart - historical drama starring Song Yi and Luo Yunxi 

The Thirteen-Hongs in Canton - historical drama starring Zhu Yawen and Yu Haoming

White Cat Legend - based on manhua of the same name starring Ding Yuxi and Zhou Qi

[badgermolebender]

When Wu is a child, he has a big family. Mother and father, grandmother and grandfather, great auntie. Family means love, laughter, joy, time spent together, and the warmth of a hug.

Then mother and father die. Grandmother and grandfather follow not long after.

When Wu is a child family comes to mean a revolving door of people, Nannie’s and tutors and servants, and Great Auntie.

As Wu grows up he has memories, a stuffed badgermole from his parents, a couple of photographs, and Auntie.

Family is the tense silences that follow one of Auntie’s explosions. It’s the tears shed into the worn fur of an old toy. It’s loneliness and duty and distance.

When Auntie dies—is killed, murdered, has the air stolen from her lungs—Wu has no family. He still has the badgermole and his photographs, as he took those to university before the riots in Ba Sing Se, but he is truly alone. He’s supposed to get a new bodyguard soon, which he supposed is something, at least.

Wu of the Hou-Ting Dynasty, King of all the Earth Lands, and Glorious Defender of Ba Sing Se, 54th Earth Monarch has a big family. It took a while—change comes slowly to the Earth Kingdom, and its people—but family has come to mean love and laughter and joy, in the way it did when he was a child.

He and Mako, his husband, spend evenings listening to probending games on the radio and take daily walks through the city. Bolin and Opal visit often, bringing their children, who run through the palace, playing games and tracking mud through its halls. When Korra and Asami visit, Korra and Mako disappear to spar while Wu and Asami play Pai Sho. They all gather in the evenings, gossiping over a glass of wine, forgetting the cares of their positions for a night. Pema can’t visit as often, but she writes, offering advice and sending stories of her kids. Mako’s family, his Grandma Yin and Cousin Tu and all of the others, accepted Wu with open arms and continue to treat him as one of their own.

[kzmi-j]

Okay, so Wish SUCKED ASS, I think we can all agree on that. The concepts were a ton better than the actual movie, there was so much missed opportunities and ruined potential, and I'll said it many time and I'll say it again :

MAGNIFICO WAS A GREAT CHARACTER, and he had SO MUCH potential, and I'm SO angry, but I love him SO much.

The part about his family? Ruined potential, it could've been an insane backstory for him. And I feel like it created a huge plot hole in his character.

His wife turning against him? Ruined potential, the concept of the evil couple was amazing! Why didn't they stick with it, I don't know, but it sucks.

Him being the villain in the first place doesn't make any sense. He's not a villain, antagonist to Asha sure, but he isn't a bad guy at all. The point in all Disney movies is that every character says what they think when they sing. Even Hans in Frozen when he sang with Anna did throw some hints about his true intentions, but not Magnifico. I listen to At All Cost so many times, and there is not one hint that he was evil from the start.

In his mind there was a war coming to Rosas, he felt threatened, and he wanted to do his best to protect his people and they were still ungrateful. It's the whole point of This is the Thanks I Get?, he felt betrayed. The part that he's a narcissist? It's so irrelevant. It hasn't been mentioned once before (beside the "you're right, I am a handsome king." Can you blame him? He is handsome.), and they put it here to excuse their decision of making him a villain. 'Bou-hou Magnifico loves himself more than anyone else, that's why he's bad'. No? All he did during YEARS was to protect Rosas, and I couldn't agree more with him when he says that some wishes cannot be granted because they may be dangerous in the future. He thinks of his people over everything else, because he knows their wishes, and they don't. He protects them from themselves. But he doesn't destroy their dreams, he keeps the wishes safe and keeps their hopes up that one day their wish might be granted.

So, why didn't he grant Sabo's innocent wish, then? Because he felt pressured. Asha barely stepped into his office and asked him to grant her grandpa's wish. When he explained why he wouldn't grant it, she insisted. He cracked, and this one line made him the villain. "I decide what everyone deserves." Well, yeah? He's the King? And he has been a GOOD king until now.

Not to mention that he wasn't evil until he opened the book. Really, like I said, This is the Thanks I Get? is a bullshit song that justifies his 'evilness' and makes a giant plot hole, but in the end, it was just him panicking. His people are ungrateful and unhelpful, Rosas is still in danger and he's frustrated. He decides to take the book because it seems like the only choice left. You can clearly see the switch. He becomes happier, crazier, his emotions are out of control, because he's controlled by the book. From then on, Magnifico isn't himself, and THEN he is the villain. Not before. Only from here.

The people of Rosas are good. Magnifico included.

I'm a huge Magnifico defender as you can see, change my mind. He's my baby and I love him.

I didn't mean for it to be that long buuuut

[atamascolily]

Final Chapter Trailer Observations

I'M SO EXCITED FOR THIS MOVIE, Y'ALL!

Shang looks like he's so done here, lol.

Lang woke up! And he's a demon again! (His self-image keeps changing from moment to moment depending on his mental state.) Based on the background, I think he's still in his dreamscape and is confronting whoever woke him up--see my earlier speculation about Chao Feng.

Azi doing some heretical arts. His profile on the movie website shows him with some kind of weapon that attaches to his gloves. This is probably from the scene where Lang confronts him and they fight.

This looks like Juan Can Yun picking up his spear again, to which all I can say is HECK YEAH BABY LET THE LANCER FIGHT (plz don't kill him, Urobuchi).

Since Urobuchi killed off all of the other named demon characters, it's just faceless mooks and han jiao pouring out of the abyss into the human realm.

How do they keep the han jiao from friendly fire, anyway? Do they always aim for the weakest or something?

Dan Fei slumped in grief. JUAN CAN YUN HAD BETTER NOT DIE IN THS, OKAY? (My money is on Bo Yang Hou not surviving, though....)

Lin fighting in the Demon Court. This looks like his own sword Yan Yue and not the Ling Long Jian, but it's hard to be sure from the angle. I hope this is Lin fighting the Demon King because that would rock.

This is the floor of the Demon Court, on fire. I think the red wooden thing is a piece of ornate frame or decoration from the walls? Everything is on fire - presumably Lang, but who knows, maybe the Demon King will have fire powers to contrast with Lin's ice theme.

Also, those casings on the floor... please be another gun please be another gun please be another gun--

Alternate theory: the wooden frame is one of the wheels from the cart that Bo Yan Hou's part of Hu Yin Shi were carting across the Wasteland of Spirits. I'm not sure how they would have gotten that thing this far, but one way or another, we will see that cart and its contents again, and it's gonna be awesome.

SIR. SIR. SIR.

Lin: my city now

Well, I guess we know what the Demon King's throne looks like! God, what a power move. I love this asshole so much.

We all knew that Shang was going to end up wielding the Lotus Macguffin sword, right? The one with the power of 30 Shen Hui Mo Xie (i.e., just about all of the swords in the Index) combined? The deus ex machina that his bestie Bai Lian made especially for him? Yeah. That's what I thought.

Anyway, it seems like Shang et al.'s expedition to rescue Lang from the demon realm will not go as planned. Lin probably stays behind to deal with the Demon King while Shang returns to the human realm to confront... demon god Lang as the final boss? Locust? the entire demon army? All of the above? The only thing for certain is that THE LAND IS CLOAKED IN DEEPEST BLUE!

(It's not visible in this frame, but Shang is bleeding from the mouth, so this is not the first exchange of blows, lol.)

[ryin-silverfish]

So, is there a reason the number 72 pops up a couple times in jttw? I know it could be a coincidence but is there any significance of it you may know of? Like there's the 72 transformations... in the first volume there's also 72 demon kings on flowerfruit mountain, there's also 72 halls in the heaven gates I think also in vol 1. In a scene with wukong asking someone to guess how old he is and upon revealing his age, the old man says that wukong has "72 features".

It's one of those "stock numbers" used in literature because they are really neat, like 36 and 10800 (for distances) but may have symbolic meanings that originates from divination/calendar stuff.

For 72 specifically:

Traditionally, 9 is considered the number of extreme Yang/Heaven, 8 is extreme Yin/Earth. 易·系辞, a guide to the Book of Changes, categorizes 1, 3, 5, 7, 9 as Heavenly, and 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 as Earthly.

"Wait, but the biggest of Heavenly and Earthly numbers are 9 and 10, and they don't give you 72!"

I have a speculation, and it's best explained by this diagram.

This is the River Diagram, very important to Book of Changes divination. Technically, 10 is also seen in this picture (the 2 parallel lines of 5 black dots), but the biggest numbers of dots found on a single line is 8 and 9——the former is Yin and the latter is Yang.

The number 72 may have come from the multiplication of these two.

There's also a less convoluted explanation and possible origin for the number 72: traditional Chinese calendar divides a year into 24 solar terms. Each term is about 15 days, which can be further divided into 3 Hou, and one Hou is about 5 days.

24 x 3 = 72, and a year has 72 Hou.

Thus 72 becomes a popular stock number for things because of its relation to everyday calendar stuff.

[damnedserenity]

I am calling it my Female fighters au and for the first character introduction we have: Fu Hao

Intro, R3, R4, R7

Historical facts:

•She was a concubine, priestess and general in the Shang dynasty having died in 1200bc

•She did multiple millitary campaigns defeating the enemies of the Shang dynasty most notably the Tufanh who fought for generations only to be defeated in one battle

•"Further campaigns against the neighbouring Yi, Qiang and Ba followed; the latter is particularly remembered for being the earliest recorded large-scale ambush in Chinese history. With up to 13,000 soldiers and important generals Zhi and Hou Gao serving under her, she was the most powerful Shang general of her time"- Wikipedia

•Her tomb was very extensive having 700+ jade objects, 500 oracle bones (from her role as a priestess) along with 6 canine and 16 human sacrifices

In RoR

•She takes the place of Lu Bu against Thor and while she loses her fight against him she still culminates both fear and awe in both humans and gods

•Her Volund is a battle axe, one of the many weapons she was buried with

•She is a very tall, well built woman with long hair kept in a pun (bun into ponytail) with clothing a mix of traditional Shang dynasty clothing and battle armour

•Her backstory includes her relationship with King Wu ding as they both cared deeply for eachother in life, there are records of him worrying for her health after having children and mourning her death

•When heading of her in involvement in Ragnarok he went to Brunhilde and tried to convince her to change her mind but was put off but Fu hao herself

•Her last thought before death was a memory of her husband and her racing in war chariots right after her return from battle

All in all she is a very determined and strong willed woman who earns her opponent's respect. Her main flaws tend to be insensitivity to other's feelings and short sightedness, the latter resulting in her defeat.

Ragnarok AU Round 1 Winner: Thor.

[quitealotofsodapop]

[bonding experience/enrichment.]

Just food? What about things like theater, since SWK does know Mac was interested in that?

Wait...when did musicals become a thing?

Don't worry! The gang take Macaque out on all sorts of activities when he's up for it, not just food.

Macaque quickly gets a hang of television and films, much to SWK's surprise. ("It's recorded on wax and film and projected using light and electric signals. It's not that hard to understand.") But the second Tang mentions seeing a live version of a musical like say Les Miserables, then Macaque *immediately* wants in.

"Modern" theatre has been around since about 1800s, but theres a lot of variation depending on where you were in asia at the time of Jttw. A lot of stage shows in China during the pre-Tang dynasty were song and dance dramas recreating real life events, or battles. Shadow Puppetry (like with Mac enjoys) became a thing during the Han Dynasty (140 – 87 BCE). Depending on when Macaque passed away, he could have been exposed to the romantic-comedy era of Zaju theatre in the Song (960–1279) dynasty.

Macaque really doesn't like crowds, but he can attend a live show as long as he has someone to ground him. The first musical the others bring him to is one that infamously uses shadow puppetry in it's effects; The Lion King.

Macaque is silent for the entire production, so much so that the others think he's bored stiff - except for Wukong who knows what Mac looks like when he's completely enthralled. And because Mac has been subconciously clutching SWK's hand since "Circle of Life".

The second "King of Pride Rock" finishes, Macaque jumps to applaud and cheer. He gets so excited talking about the effects and music afterwards that he can't stop stimming (hand flapping and jumping into his shadows) and ends up crashing asleep the second him and Wukong get home. He's the kinda guy to bring flowers to throw on stage for the actors.

He gets so infamous at the theatre as a frequent and supportive guest, that he gets offered a job working there. Mac quickly accepts. Macaque presents his first shadow play that very halloween at a children's matinee - a few traditional fairytales (like the story of Chang'e and Hou yi, and the tales of Nuwa), capped off with his infamous "The Hero and the Warrior" story, with a slightly more... hopeful ending. He's gets a little flustered when the kids starts asking "Did the Hero and the Warrior get married after?" at the end. Especially when he remembers that Wukong (along with the rest of the gang + Nezha) came to support his opening show. His shows become very popular for all the effort and heart he puts into them, and his insane shadow puppetry skills. Ends up with a few friends/co-workers from the theatre who kinda know he's The Six Earred Macaque, but they aren't saying anything.

Some extra theatre/musical hcs I have for the LMK characters:

Current favorite musicals/plays of Macaque's include; Wicked (the themes of persecution, the unfairness of history, broken friendships, and grief really speaks to him), The Phantom of the Opera (only he understands the motivations of a drama king), and Mamma Mia (he likes the Abba songs).

Wukong gets bored like... real easily. He's a comedy guy. But he'd rather be bored watching something with Macaque than alone. He tries to underplay how interested he is in things cus he thinks he's just annoying people. He accidentally "WHOA!"ed loudly the first ever time he ever saw the live costume change/transformation in Beauty and the Beast. He got really embarassed, until Mac backed him up with his own excited hooting. He also really enjoyed Great Gatbsy ("That wasnt exactly a musical, peaches." "It had a lot of songs though." "Fair point.").

Pigsy doesn't really care for musicals, prefers straight acting. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't cry during The Waitress.

Tang is a Nerd. A big history Nerd. He has seen almost every historical musical and play there is, and critiques them harshly for accuracy. Except for Hamilton - he will relent for the eye and ear candy alone.

Nezha has really old fashioned tastes. He likes traditional chinese opera. His fave is "The Heavenly Maid Scatters Blossoms". He also liked "Matilda".

Princess Iron Fan and DBK have seen "Romeo and Juliet" like hundreds of times, in multiple languages. PIF stopped seeing the show after her husband was imprisoned. She does however have a ridiculously in-depth knowledge of Shakespeare and other Elizabethan era plays. DBK unashamedly loves sappy romantic musicals, and will sing the love songs to PIF when he can.

So yeah. Lots of theatre enrichment for the drama king himself.

[bohemian-nights]

What We May Mend (Chapter 1)

Word Count: ~6,908

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Laena Velaryon

Warnings: Difficult Childbirth; Attempted Suicide

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them.

AN: Basically, no one is writing for them(which is a crime if you ask me). I’ve gotten multiple asks about them so here is my attempt at giving Laena the happy ending she deserved😊 Keeping that in mind, this is a multi-chaptered work based on show canon(which means physical descriptions including the lack of violet eyes among others will be left out). I'm planning around 5-7 chapters, but that may change 🐉

Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Death was a foreign concept to her. As foreign as the Golden Empire of Yi Ti, whatever lay west of the Iron Isles, or even the wild plains of the barren North. Driftmark was a fortress of life. Neither melancholy nor illness plagued her childhood. Her parents had not been taken away before their time from battle nor sickness. Her brother, cousins, and uncle had been blessed with good health and fortune as well. There was laughter, adventure, and childish mischief to be found in abundance.                                                  

Lady Laena Velaryon had known that many girls could not count themselves half as lucky as herself. Not even her cousin Princess Rhaenyra whose mother had died before she had reached her fifteenth nameday, but the silver-haired cooper-skinned Velaryon girl had not given much thought to death. The stranger had rarely visited the isles' rocky shores and all but once entered the white stone walls of High Tide to call home its inhabitants. On that one occasion, Lady Jocelyn Baratheon had been enveloped in the stranger's embrace.                

Laena was but five when her grandmother passed on to the realm beyond that of the living. ‘Twas on the eve of her sixth nameday. She could recall the tall once black-haired woman whose hair had turned gray in the final year of her life well enough at that moment when she was closer to the Stranger than death itself. 

Age had not withered her regal continence nor rendered her unable to speak fondly of the early days of her elder half-brother's reign, the old king Jaehaerys, Laena’s grandfather though she could not recall, who had passed on a mere year past. True enough the Baratheon lady had never fully forgiven the man for his slight against Laena’s mother, but perhaps it was nostalgia that caused her to look upon those days with longing wistfulness. The world is always brighter when viewed from afar. 

It was those early days that were happiest. That seemed as if the Old King's golden reign would stretch on for an age. That the fate of the blood of the dragon, the last dragonriders of old Valyria was assured at long last, but those days had turned sour. Leaving behind only the bitter taste of ruefulness on the tongue. 

Jocelyn Baratheon was the last of the old lot. Her brother, Lord Baratheon, who was as fierce a defender of her daughter as she herself, had gone shortly after the Old King.  Her beloved husband, the crown prince, the only man she had ever known, her Aemon, was taken before his time at the hands of vipers. She was to be his queen and yet he never wore his crown.

Her half-sister Good Queen Alysanne, her only sister, more a mother than a sister for she was the only mother she had ever known, she had died of woe long ago from all her heartache. 

All were gone. She alone was what remained of them. Of a time that had faded away and lived on only in the memories of the few. 

The once great Baratheon lady had grown weary at a court she no longer recognized. The faces had changed, but she had not. She had come to Driftmark to be among her family. The house of her mother who had given her life to bring her into this world would be her final resting place. Her refuge. 

“You have his eyes.” She had given Laena a half smile as she lay in her bed wheezing. A frail hand the color and shape of bone reached up to touch her cheek. Her lady grandmother had caught a chill that she could not shake. The first time she had struck ill, Laena was told, since she was sick with the shivers as a wee girl an age ago. She had taken to reading to her every night while her mother braided her hair. Easing her mind while she slipped away from her flesh.

It had been peaceful when she finally passed on. Dying in her sleep. A look of contentment upon her pallid face when a serving girl found her the next morning. A natural end to a full life. It was Laenan’s mother's wails reverberating off the walls afterward that made it so sorrowful. She had taken to her own bed for the fortnight that followed. Her sobs drowned out the waves that crashed on the shore. 

Not even her father's sweet temptations with little trinkets, a fool, and singers from all the seven kingdoms and across the Narrow Sea bring back light to her eyes. Not even his boisterous laughter or that of her uncle, the gossip of her aunt, or the gaggles of her cousins filled their halls, and soon enough the sea called with the waxing oh the moon for her father and he went with it. She and Laenor did their best to cheer their dear mother up in their father’s absence, but the stranger was a cruel foe. Their home became as quiet as a tomb for that short time.  

Her mother only dared to venture out from chambers when Laenor had received a gash and sprained his ankle when he had done what all growing boys were prone to do. Sought for action where there was none in a castle that had fallen victim to the Stranger. “Get down from there, Laenor.” She had said running to a tree at the mouth of the cove. She had flown out of the castle like a bat fresh out of the seven hells. Her long silvery-gray hair once had been black trailing after her. Hazel irises widened with panic. A mother's fright, one Laena would know well in time. 

“Come to me.”  She had motioned him to climb down from the ledge where he had fallen to.  “That's it, my love.” When Laenors leg had been set to right and her mother's fears abated that night, laughter returned to Hide Tide once more, and death remained an ever-present shadow looming in the background. Waiting for the moment to strike once more.

No matter how foreign the stranger may seem, Laena supposed her life was shaped by death. If her grandsire had not been killed before her grandsire had died her mother would be the queen. She may be heir to the Iron Throne or rather Laenor would and she would be his queen in the tradition of their Targaryen forbearers. Though the thought of that minor detail made her stomach roll even now. 

Though she supposed whatever would’ve happened, whatever way the dice had landed if she were she would not be here right now. In a foreign distant land. Among strangers. Bleeding out upon white sheets. Her lifeblood steadily slipped away from her. As sure as the sands empty into the bottom of the hourglass. Grain by grain. 

It was a strange experience. Laena could not see the stranger, but she felt him there in these humid chambers. Right there beside her. Over her shoulder. Breathing down the back of her neck. Causing the hairs on her damp neck to stick up and stand on their ends. Death clung like a second skin. Waiting for the pain to run its course and drain what was left of her before he called her back with him. 

She had known pain before. A broken arm from falling off a tree. Climbing to see the last of her father's warships head off to the Stepstones. A cut upon her foot from Laenors first sword grazed the skin when she had dropped it, not realizing how heavy it would be to wield it. The cramps radiated out from her abdomen when she got her moon blood and was bedridden for the first night. A bruised rib when she made her maid lace her stays tight enough to show off her figure during the visit of a visiting Sealord and his son from Bravos who later be engaged to for a time. and the hundred times after that for each suitor that came to Driftmarks rocky shore all ending with one. 

She had known the pains of the birthing bed well enough. Laena had taken to it twice now. The first time had been long and rather taxing. She labored for a day and a half. She had not thought she would make it lying there upon sweat soaked and the Gods know what else sheets, twisting herself into a ball, but then out came Baela. Her fearless girl. A little red squalling babe with a set of lungs upon her that alerted the whole manse of her arrival. 

Rhaena’s labor had been quick. A mere two hours after her pains began did she pop out into the world. A tiny thing she was. Smaller than her sister, quieter too, but just as precious in the eyes of her young mother. Where her birth had been easier than Baela’s, what followed afterward had not.   

Laena had bled for a fortnight straight. Apart from short jaunts to take a turn around the gardens she was regulated to the confines of her chambers for a moon. Much to her displeasure, she was too weak to feed her daughter from her own breast. A wet nurse had to be called for while she spent her days in bed.

The recovery had been a slow one, but she had recovered. She had become herself again, her girls blossomed, and the pain of the birthing bed had become a distant memory. This, however, was different. 

The Stranger had visited with the night this time. Such pain he brought. Laena could feel him in her bones. Exhaustion seeped through every pore. As if every muscle in her body craved to give in. To give up. To meet the stranger who held his hand for him to join her in his cold embrace. 

Never before had she felt so unlike herself. Tired. She was so very tired. She could no longer push. Been instructed not to push even if she could. Her legs were numb. Her silver curls painted to her clammy forehead with her own sweat. 

Her eyes desperately wanted to shut. Calling for rest. A moment of respite. Her arms ached from holding herself up hunched over the bed. From the near-death grip of the midwives hand. Even lifting her fingers to inch up the bedpost for a tighter hold was a strain. 

Laena burned with something she could not name. A foggy bog that she seeped into overpowering her, but some part of her kept her in a hazy state of half-dream half-wake. A candle flickering in the wind. The past and the present intertwined in its dimming glow. 

She could hear the waves crashing back on coming in from the open window that had meant to cool her down. The room frayed. Faces came in and out of view. Switching between her mother's smile and the nurse's worried pallid face as she wiped the beads of sweat off her brow. Voices muffled and low as if they came from the other end of a cavernous tunnel and yet she kept a hold to the last shreds of her wit and strength. A tiny ember. The last snuff before the light went out. 

“My brave girl.” She could make that out with startling clarity. It came from her princely husband. They stood huddled up in a half-shadowed corner of the chamber whispering to themselves, the healer having left her side. He was a swarthy man who sweat like a pig. If he did not open his mouth one would think he was Dornish. Laena was not particularly fond of him. 

There was something in his person,  in his manner of address which, how he always deferred to her husband which made her uneasy. She wished to be back within the safety and care that could be found at her father's house, surrounded by her cousins and aunts who would fuss over her, with her mother by her side who, or at least have a maester who knew her body better and would not act as if mere paranoia was the cause of her woe, but she had little choice in the manner of her present circumstances.

“The magister has healers who will take care of you Laena.” Daemon had replied when she confronted him in the library where he spent his days. Obsessing over their family's history twirling a glass of sweet wine from the magister's cellars in his hand. 

It was a final plea, a desperate plea for she had asked him a dozen times before throughout this pregnancy where she felt her body weakening little by little with every passing day, but he dismissed her with his usual care. Placing a kiss on her belly as their babe greeted his father with a little kick before he went back to his reading. There was no room for argument. He was in one of his moods. He was always in a  mood. 

Her husband had replied to what the healer spoke in that absent-minded way of his. The way that reminded her his mind was a thousand leagues away. Across a narrow sea. To the alleyways, taverns, and well-tread roads that made up King’s Landing to his ailing brother, to the Iron Throne, or perhaps even his beloved niece. Laena could not tell. Not anymore. Mayhaps she never could. 

Or mayhaps she had been the occupier of his attentions and affections at one point. Perhaps it had been she who evoked his passion. Before Baela when they had first wed? When he had whisked her away to this place from her home. Winning her hand away from the Braavosi Sealord's son with the plunge of Dark Sister through his skull. The excitement of it. He had always been one for the dramatics in the most spectacularly brutal fashion. 

Basking in the glow of his victory. Claiming his prize. A bride of his own choosing. A Valyrian bride to wash the stain off his ill-favored union with Rhea Royce. The vale-bride that had been chosen for him. The bride he never wanted nor favored. 

Her father, the great sea snake, was all too keen to give him her hand. To give him his prize for ridding him of an unfavorable match despite his dear wife’s protests. Despite the whispers that swarmed him. He killed my cousin. Blushed her to death. Budgeted her to beyond recognition He’s the devil. 

Laena herself ignored their tales and dismissed her own mother's warnings. “He is charming, but charming men seldom make for good husbands, my sweet girl. Let us find you some lord who will make you laugh.” 

She did not need some simpleton who would make her laugh. She had someone who made her feel more than that. She had someone who caused her belly to erupt with flutters when he threw a smile her way or his pale green eyes met dark ones. 

He was not particularly handsome, his lips were too thin and his brow was hairless and prominent. His face was rather primal, but he was tall, his jaw strong, and there was something magnetic about him. Daemon Targaryen could command a room with a single glance. Why should she not want him? Why should she not have him?

She was Lady Laena Velaryon. She was the blood of old Valyria through and through. She came from not one, but two ancient and proud lines. Even her Baratheon blood was forged in the flames of Valyria. She was the dragonrider of the largest and oldest dragon in the known world. The last living vestige from the time of the conqueror.

The Rogue Prince wanted her. He had wanted her by his side. To be his wife. To bear his children. He saw who she was and he wanted her. They were the blood of old Valyria. Like called to like. They were made for each other. She was his match. She was his wife. 

Wife was just a title she learned. She was so very naive then. Young and in love with the idea of him. An ideal was not enough nor was a title. It did not keep one warm at night. Comfort one when their heart aches. Or while they were bedridden with sickness. 

No, Daemon Targaryen had not married her for such feelings of adoration and cherishment. He had married her for an empty title. For her name. Still, she liked to think that she had been enough for him. That she had been what he had wanted. That he had wanted her for more. That they had a chance the same as any other. 

Mayhaps after Baela they still had hope? When he thought that she might give him the solace he looked for. The peace he craved. what he made no effort to hide.

She had given him a girl to be sure, but there would be more babes to follow. Her own mother had given her father a girl first then her brother came. Why should it not be the same for her? 

She was still young and healthy. Had just celebrated her seventeenth name day. Daemon himself was in the prime of his life at six and thirty. There would be babes a plenty. “The next one shall be a boy husband.” He did not say anything. In fact, he seemed rather in awe of the tiny red-faced babe in his arms. Taking her little hand broken free from her swaddle to wrap around his pointer finger. Bringing the small fist up to his lips to place upon as he stared down at her, utterly entranced,  but she knew. 

When a letter from Kings Landing arrived announcing the birth of Jacaerys Velaryons she knew. She saw the light gone in his eyes. In how he did not let the wine in his cup go empty. She knew what she must do. What she must give him. It was a son he wanted. Just a son. A son and he would be happy. A son and they would be happy. She would give Daemon Targaryen his sons.  

After she had almost given him his long-desired heir, but had only delivered another girl? Did she dare hope then? This one was more of a disappointment than the last for she was not even a dragonrider. Her egg withered in her cradle. Turned to stone. There was no use for the girl. For their sweet Rhaena. 

What was one to do with two girls and no son in sight? No heir. Two girls. Ten years gone by and all she had given him was two girls. Every raven arrived from home a bitter reminder. Son after son. Year after year. A full life lived across the Narrow Sea. A life he was no party to. A son was not all he wanted. 

How he burned those letters and stiffened at the mere mention of her name. At the suggestion that they return. Your brother would surely find you a position at court. Dismissing her words with a smile that did not reach his eyes and a swig of Pentos wine. Pouring over text and drinking himself to bed. Baela only managed to win his attention with her Valyrian or their rides. The better part of him. Rhaena was lucky if she got so much as a good night kiss from her dear kepa. Her failure. 

Yes, wife was only a title. For there were some days he would not even come to her bed. Those days were better despite their loneliness. He was drunk when he climbed on top of her and put this babe in her. Pushing her into the bed. Pushing into her. One thrust. Two Three. In and out. She lost count. Merely trying to distract herself from the dull ache of the stretch.

“Forgive me.” He left her lying there as his seed slipped from her heat. Hastily throwing on his clothes as he scrambled out of the chamber. She did not see him until the next night at dinner. Having to sit through it with a smile that pulled at her mouth from its strain as he and the Magister discussed his son's return from Braavos. A handsome boy with a head of brown curls who was a mere two years Baela’s senior. He was apt to introduce them. Her husband could not seem more delighted by the prospect. 

She did not make him content. She was not the wife he wished for. Her failures in the birthing bed proved that. Her failings to bring him his desires prove that. Laena Velaryon was a disappointment. 

He could not even look at her. She lay in her deathbed, soiled, blood pouring from her at an alarming rate and he could only spare her half a glance before he moved it back to whatever it was that captured his attention on the stone floor underneath him. He did not notice her. Not even now. 

Mayhaps he never had. Not really. Why turn his attention, his affections to her? She had never been what he wanted, only a thing he had settled for. She was always a thing that he was burdened with. What he had settled for. A prize, indeed. A consolation prize.

A Valyrian wife, but the wrong Valyrian wife. Children that were just Targaryen enough, but just as Velaryon in truth as they were Targaryen. A life of comfort and ease, but no action. Close, but not quite. Not what he truly wanted. Second choice. She was his second choice. 

The Stranger mocked her with his silence. She could feel him and yet he said nothing. Just waiting. Waiting for her own body to give now the rest was gone. Now that she could not avoid it. Could he laugh? Mayhaps? Mayhaps not. 

“We could pry open the womb.” He stuttered ever so slightly. Ringing that cloth covered in her blood and tears in his hand. She felt a chill run up her spine. The Stranger reached to hold out his hand. Waiting.” Try to remove the infant by way of the blade.”

“Would the mother survive it?” Her husband had turned his body away from her. He would never notice her. The healer shook his bowed head. A quiet no confirmation fell from his lips. It was he who looked as if he saw a ghost. Her life for her babes. If that. She knew how this tale would end.

No, she had never been what he wanted. She could not give him what he wanted. Second choice. She who had burdened him with her failings. With her inadequacies. She who could perhaps serve him better in death than she ever could in life. The cold reached her shoulder. 

Would he notice if she slipped from the room? Into the night air? Just beyond the castle's walls? Made her way to Vhagar? Grabbed his hand? Ran into the Strangers embrace? 

A dragonriders death. Or at least death at the hands of something which she loved. Something which did care for her. Something that did not which to only take from her.

Yes, that was preferable to this. Preferable to being carved like a stuffed pig. Served up for a grand feast. A feast worthy of a prince. 

He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed when she pushed the maids away who tried to hold. She pulled herself up on shaky legs to make her way to the door of the chamber. He hadn’t noticed.  A wide-eyed mousy girl shrieked a my lady when she slipped through the doorway. The others gawked with open mouths like a fish gasping for breath on land with horror. Not speaking a word at her retreating feverish figure hunched over, but he hadn’t noticed.  

“Mother,” Laena thought she had heard. Thought she’d seen a little brown worried face peeking out of the nursery that she shared with her sister. Baela for she was too tall to be her sister. Their host had been gracious enough to offer them chambers of their own, but the girls were as thick as thieves. They could not be separated nor should they be. 

She ignored that small voice. The call of a mother. She did not want to know if it was real or a figment of her clouded mind. A trick of her imagination conjured up by the Stranger. Prayed it was only a mirage.  

Baela was asleep, warm in her bed. Dreaming of the trip her father had promised he would take her on the morrow. Riding on the back of Caraxes. Her dragon was too small to mount, but she already had a taste for the skies. “Faster kepa. Faster.” She’d say as she would cry with glee. The wind would whip around their faces as they dove and gilded through open blue causing her eyes to water with happy tears. 

“Eglikta, nyke jaelagon naejot jikagon eglikta.” Higher, I want to go higher. Her Valyrian would be clunky, but she improving. Soon she’d be better than her mother. Would be better than her. 

Laena hoped Daemon would keep to that promise. Perhaps he’d bring Rhaena along with them. The girls would need a distraction. Surely no one would fault him for providing them with one. He’d want to do it. He’d be relieved to be out. He was never one to be idle and she doubted that would change on account of her absence. He’d be free. 

Of course, he’d have to mourn her propriety’s sake. For six moons, a year, a very long year, but any bit of freedom he’d have during this mourning he’d welcome. Relish in it. Yes, he’d take her riding tomorrow and the next day after. 

That little voice did not follow her on her hobble down the corridor. Nor were her ears met with the little patter of bare feet other than her on stone. It seems the mother was kind enough to grant her one. Her babies were asleep safe in their beds. With not a care in the world. 

With a shaky hand upon the banister, Laena turned the corner leaving the guest quarters towards the backstairs that the magister's servants use. It was safer that way. If anyone should come looking for her they’d think she’d use the ones. They’d look for her there. Not creeping around like a beggar woman. 

No one followed her. No one looked for her. Not a single soul. There was some relief in that. If they had happened across her they would surely force her back.  Back to that chamber. Back into that soiled bed. A lamb for slaughter. 

She felt the chill upon leaving the warmth of the manse. It had not been a particularly cool day, but the nights in Pentos were cooled by a western breeze from the bay that bordered its shores. Cool enough to need a cloak of one we’re to venture out for a night stroll, but not Laena felt as if she had stumbled into winter. 

Goosebumps erupting over her sticky bronze skin. Every step felt like she walked in water. Her legs felt like lead. She knew if she were to look down at her feet she’d be met with the sight of her lifeblood. If she were to stop she would collapse into the dirt and never get. Mayhaps she was not as careful as she thought for anyone could find her, but it would soon matter not. 

She was close. So very close. Home. She was almost home. Away from here. Away from the cold. Away from the pain. Nothing could touch her. She would feel nothing. Not the sharp edge of the healer's blade that would pierce her belly. Not Daemon’s disappointment. Not her own longing for what she could never give. A life that would never be hers. With a kiss from her dragon's flame, it would all end. 

It was only by the Stranger's hand that she made it to Vhagar. Stumbling over the pieces of gravel beneath her feet. The pain made her double over. Dropping to her knees. Bowing her head. Pleading. Begging her for release.To be free.

“Vhagar Dracarys. Dracarys. Dracarys. Dracarys. Dracarys.” She had croaked it out half a dozen times to the old dragon, but she would not move. Her voice grew weaker with every plea Threatened to give out. Already sore from screaming, she continued on. She saw no other way. Descending into tears, but tears did little to endear Vhagar to help her. Remaining as unmoved as ever. 

Her mouth opened and closed over and over, but she made no move to bring forth fire. To end her riders' suffering. “Dracarys.” She would not move. Only fanning Laena’s damp face with hot dry air. Not a flame to be seen. No orange glow cast.

“Dracarys.” Another wave of pain came over her. It was hard to breathe through it. To force air through her lungs so that she may speak. 

“Dracarys.” A whisper. A final plea. Yet she did nothing. Unbowing her head so that brown met golden red. She pleaded with her eyes for Laena had no voice left in her. Her gaze went soft. A  lamb begging for the Shepherd to guide her. To save her from the wolves. 

Pity was there. Reluctance too. A resistance to do as she was bid. Like a dog commanded to leave his wounded master on a hunt. but that pity had one out. Understanding. Just for a moment. She understood what she wanted.

Vhagar opened her ancient mouth to reveal an orange glow. A glow that burned her skin, feeling the heat making her sweater soon blister and peel if she were to keep at this distance, but that would be the last pain she would feel. For the glow would burn bright and engulf her in its fiery bite. Laena raised her head. Closing her eyes to meet the fire. Let me be free. 

“Laena.” She heard his voice. In what would be her final moments left on this mortal plane it was his voice she heard. Carried across the dirt in the windless night. How cruel the Stranger was. He brought her here on her knees with pain shooting through her only to prolong her suffering. How he laughed at her expense.  Stinging heat fading bit by bit. As if it had never been. The Stranger laughed indeed. 

“No Vhagar.”  The glow dimmed. It must have dimmed at the sound of her husband's panicked roar for Laena no longer felt its searing burn. She no longer could feel the brightness of light on her eyelids. 

Her dragon had been released from her obligation. Given a choice. Vhagar came to with shame. Did a dragon have shame? Realization that what she was about to do was too rash? Too final? Too desperate. Nothing good ever came from desperation.  Not even now while the Stranger made a joke of a dying woman. 

The flap of wings reached her ears. With a gust of wind bringing back a chill to her bones. Vhagar deserted her. She was left alone with him.

Laena refused to open her eyes. Refused to see what had become of her. What was going to become of her. Mayhaps she could have tried to run, but she would not get very far. She did not think she could even pull herself to her feet much less hobble her way to wherever Vhagar had flown off to. It would be a crawl. A slow crawl. If that. Her lifeblood that left a steady trail from her womanhood painting her thighs crimson told her otherwise. 

“You’re freezing Laena.” He wasted no time enveloping her in his arms. Tucking her carefully into his person. Placing an arm under her legs, the other bore the weight of her back while her head rested underneath his chin. Like a bride. Like how he had so very long ago. Her gown had been a lovely embroidered thing of white Myrish silk rather than the soiled nightgown she wore now.  Not a single curl was out of place. Her silver mane shone in the candlelight. Her head had been crowned with a golden diadem. A single ruby placed at its center. She was a vision. 

Daemon had refused the bedding ceremony that her uncle called for to carry her back to their chambers himself. Halfway along he had begun whispering something rather naughty into her virgin ears which caused her to burst into a fit of giggles as she was thrown over her groom's shoulder. There would be none of that now. 

He must have been closer than she realized she decided. It’s the only way he reached her with such speed. He had no blanket nor cloak with him, but the heat coming off his person warmed her. He felt like a fire. Why was he so warm? Had he always been this warm? This solid? 

She clung to him. Burying herself into his chest. Resting her silver curls into the pocket-marked skin of his neck that told the story of the man she loathed and loved. That he cradled their own babes into when they had been little things. 

 She did not wish to, but he was the only thing keeping her here. The only thing that was here. She longer felt the Stranger's ominous presence. His laughter in her head had left and had been replaced with a pounding in her head. There was only him now. 

“What were you thinking?”I would've been free. I would have freed us both and then you would not have had to pretend as you do now. He was doing a good act of it. 

“If you had left me. I would not be freezing.” Her voice was so very small. A murmur. A croak really. Hardly recognizable to her own ears. Did she really sound like that? Like an old woman? So very weak. If he had not placed her head near his ear would not have heard her. 

“My darling.” He hadn’t called her that in a while. A long while. The last she had was on her twenty-fifth nameday. The night of her twenty-fifth name day. The last time they had truly made love. He had been sober. Gentle. Present. 

He spoke her name with such reverence, whispered things into her ear which made her cheeks flush in heat with such tenderness. In the afterglow of their peaks, he had not pulled from her. They had simply laid their breathing each other in as he petted her. He made love with his words where his body had been spent and she savored every morsel of it, but she wouldn’t give too much thought to it now. Desperation caused one to speak falsities laced with honey. 

Still, there was something, something in his voice, something thick and unsaid that caused her to open her eyes the slightest to meet his. Pulling herself from where she buried her head to find that they were glassy. Filled with unused tears. Threatening to spill from those green depths.

Laena had never seen him cry. Not once. Not even when she presented Baela to him. Her mother had said that her father could not stop crying when she had placed her in his outstretched arms, but not the Rogue Prince. Never Daemon Targaryen. It was shock , she decided. He was just in shock. She had shocked him. 

“You’d be free of me. No healer’s blade required.” He’d be rid of her without another stain on his name. Without it weighing on his conscience. If he was even capable of feeling remorse through that dark haze of his. 

“I won’t let them cut you Laena.” She laughed. Did she really mean so little to him? So little that he would not even give her the truth? Did he truly believe she was so naive? After being with him these ten years as his wife, that she knew nothing of him? Of how little his word meant when he gave it out so freely. When he spoke lies so freely from those pale lips. With his airs. His smirks. Mayhaps he believed his own versions of the truth. He had told so many of them. It must be hard to keep up with them, but she remembered.  

“You will if it will give you the son you want.” It was men like him did. Proud men. Lords,  princes, and kings alike. The need for an heir was too great to pass for men like them.  ‘Twas what his brother had done. His wife’s life for a son, a babe who had only survived a night. His wife who he butchered for an heir that lived but a day. 

Aemma Arryn had been no more with the swipe of a blade at the command of her husband. A command that left him plagued with guilt and regret and no proper heir to show for it. He had loved his wife, claimed to love her, and yet he murdered her all the same. All for a son. Such as men like him do. 

A sharp pain ran through Laena’s abdomen. It had begun to dull before then. Distracted by her abandonment and the cold she felt in it, but that mind-numbing ache was a reminder that the worst was not over yet. That this fight was pointless. That him trying to save her, to make amends after ten years of misery was pointless. Daemon pulled her closer to his warmth, the lines upon his brow made all the more prominent with his worry, but it was no good. 

She would still be dead by the end of it. Laena had found dying to be a rather exhausting business. There was no point in wasting any more breath on the matter. Her fate was inevitable. 

“Take care of our girls or I shall haunt you.” Her last attempt at humor. Daemon did smile at it and Laena herself could find little amusement in it. 

Her one regret. Leaving her girls alone in this world. It was selfish. To take her life so violently when she’d leave them behind. Without saying so much as a goodbye to them. It was heartless. To leave Daemon to pick up the pieces. 

To explain to them what she had done. How does one explain that to a child? Why their mother would no longer be able to tuck them into bed at night. Why when they turned to find her smile they’d only find thin air. Why everything had changed in the blink of an eye. 

Laena herself did not know what it was like to live without a mother. If RhaenysTargaryen had any faults it certainly did not lie with her mothering for she had always been there for her children. No septa, wetnurse, nor nanny could replace the comfort of a mother. 

It was she who fretted over them when they were sick—staying up with them through the night wiping sweat from their brows, singing them lullabies, recounting stories of old to lull them to sleep. She who would kiss their bruises away. She who would listen to their woes without complaint. She who Laena could always depend upon. Only a raven need be sent and she would journey from the ends of the earth to her.   

Her girls would be without that comfort, but they'd have her mother. That much she knew. Her mother would care for them as she had her and Laenor when they were little. That much Laena could take comfort in. They would not truly be alone. Just without her. 

“You will take care of them yourself.” He must have lifted from the ground because the throbbing increased tenfold. With each step he took she could feel it moving through her. Shooting through her wave after wave. Her back, her belly, and her head were all burning. A stab here. A pinch there. She had thought she had known pain, known weakness, but this was all-consuming agony. She went limp in her husband’s hold.

He was with her, she knew he was holding her but he began to sound distant. The blood pounding in her head muffled his speech. It sounded as if they had journeyed into a dark cavern. She on one end of it, he on the other. His voice was a faint echo yet he would not cut that shallow cord of communication. “You will see them grow and have children of their own. You will not leave me. I will not let you leave me.” 

At his last words, his voice broke with a choking sob. A hitch in his breath shook her. Something wet landed on the apple of her cheek. Making its way to her chapped lips. The taste of salt left a kiss upon them. 

Mayhaps she had thought too cruelly of him. It was not every day that one witnessed their wife attempting to light herself on fire to escape them. Mayhaps there was sincerity. Something. Yes, something other than the darkness that resided in him. 

“You’ll die old in your bed Laena. I promise you—” If he had made any other promises Laena did not know. The pain became too much for her to keep awake. Her eyes fluttered shut before they reached the manse. 

Ao3 Link:

[the-monkey-ruler]

Compared to idealized figures like Guan Yu, pre-Qin Dynasty heroes like Yi tend to be a little wilder. (Hou Yi is a title granted to him after he usurps the throne, with Hou meaning Lord in Xia Dynasty Chinese. You also see Yu the Great being called Xia Hou Yu/夏后禹.)

Yi was venerated as a hero despite his faults. The student who murdered him, Pang Mang, survived to teach the art of archery to the kings of Chu, and is also remembered in Warring States texts as a great hero and archer. Han Jiao, the son of the advisor who usurped Yi's throne and was then in turn killed by the Xia King Shao Kang returning to reclaim his kingdom, is also hailed as a hero for his great strength that let him tow ships across the land. It didn't matter that these men were flawed, or that they fought against each other. They were all heroes capable of great feats, and Yi and Han Jiao had been murdered in undeserving ways. After the Han Dynasty, though, Yi got split into two different characters, a "legendary" Yi from the time of Yao, and a "historical" Yi from the Xia Dynasty, with the "legendary" Yi being the tragic hero abandoned by his wife and murdered by his disciple.

Thanks for the information! I never new how much these characters changed over time!