#My husband and I sleep in a coffin

[sneakingpasta]

11 NEW DANMEI LICENSES AND A FINALE!!!! WE FEAST IN 2025

[malewifingonside]

Wang Xiaomie and Wen Fengjin really deserve each other, they are freak4freak and i don't think therapy can fix them

[unforth]

Danmei and Baihe C Novels and Manhua Officially Licensed in English

Things are getting licensed fast enough that keeping a list like this up-to-date is basically impossible, but I saw someone asking in the tags so I figured I'd try. All titles are danmei unless otherwise noted (very little baihe is licensed so far). I've included Chinese titles, but sometimes publishers change the original titles so much that I can't track them down, apologies. I've hit the link limit on this post so I've had to remove NovelUpdate links, but they're still in the version of this post on Wordpress. Note that Taiwanese titles are not included on this list.

This is everything I know of as of October 24, 2024. There might be more. I tried. Resources used to compile this list: Danmeinews.com; this Carrd, last updated in March 2023; this other carrd last updated October 23 2024; list of danmei with official licenses on NovelUpdates; a similar list on Goodreads; danmei-specific list on Reddit that to my eye looks accurate for the larger publishers but isn't thorough for some of the smaller ones.

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Seven Seas:

The full list of danmei novels licensed by Seven Seas is here. The full list of danmei manhua licensed by Seven Seas is here.

These titles are in various stages of publication, from "entire series released" to "license literally announced less than a week ago." As far as I know, all Seven Seas titles are available world-wide, through major distributors and libraries, and in e-book and print formats. Seven Seas translation quality varies but the editing is general strong and the editions are sturdy and nice. Note that Seven Seas isn't without controversy, especially for treating their contractors poorly resulting in them unionizing. Some people have also been unhappy with the fidelity of their translations compared to the original Chinese (I've been satisfied personally but ymmv).

Mo Xiang Tong Xiu titles:

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System (Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi)

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (Mo Dao Zu Shi) manhua

Heaven Official's Blessing (Tian Guan Ci Fu)

Meatbun Doesn't Eat Meat titles:

Case File Compendium (Bing an Ben)

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun (Erha he Ta de Bai Mao Shizun)

Remnants of Filth (Yuwu)

Meng Xi Shi titles:

Thousand Autumns (Qian Qiu)

Peerless (Wushuang)

priest titles:

Guardian (Zhenhun)

Silent Reading (Modu)

Stars of Chaos (Sha Po Lang)

Fei Tian Ye Xiang titles:

Astrolabe Rebirth (Xing Pan Chongqi), written under the pen name Arise Zhang

Dinghai Fusheng Records (Dinghai Fusheng Lu)

Dinghai Fusheng Records (Dinghai Fusheng Lu) manhua

Joyful Reunion (Xiang Jian Huan)

Legend of Exorcism (Tianbao Fuyao Lu)

Mu Su Li titles:

Copper Coins (Tong Qian Kan Shi)

The Unseen Immortal of Three Hundred Years (Bujian Shang Xian San Bai Nian)

Lv Ye Qian He titles:

The White Cat’s Divine Scratching Post (Shenmu Nao Bujin)

The Wife Comes First (Qi Wei Shang)

Other titles:

After the Disabled God of War Became My Concubine (Canji Zhanshen Jia Wo Wei Qie Hou) by Liu Gou Hua

Ballad of Sword and Wine (Qiang Jin Jiu) by Tang Jiuqing

BAIHE: The Beauty’s Blade (Meiren Jian) by Feng Ren Zuo Zhu

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish (Canji Baojun de Zhangxin Yu Chong) by Xue Shan Fei Hu

I Ship My Rival x Me (Wo Kele Duijia x Wo de CP) manhua by PEPA

HET: Love Between Fairy and Devil (Cang Lan Jue) by Jiu Lu Fei Xiang

Mistakenly Saving the Villain (Lun Jiu Cuo Fanpai de Xiachang) by Feng Yu Nie

My Husband and I Sleep in a Coffin (Wo he Laogong Shui Guancai) by Wu Shui Bu Du

Run Wild (Saye) by Wu Zhe

There’s Something Wrong with the Chief (Du Zhu You Bing) by Yang Su

Thrice Married to Salted Fish (San Jia Xianyu) by Bi Ka Bi

The Villain’s White Halo (Fanpai Baihua Guanghuan) by Hao Da Yi Juan Wei Sheng Zhi

You’ve Got Mail: The Perils of Pigeon Post (Fei Ge Jiao You Xu Jin Shen) by Blackegg

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Rosmei:

Rosmei licenses are Singapore distribution rights only. There is a list of international partners organizing group orders here. I've personally placed my orders through Yiggybean, as discussed in reply to this ask. Most of these titles are only being released as print editions, tho titles that weren't originally on JJWXC (of which there are several here) WILL have e-book editions. My first book from Rosmei arrived, and I found the translation and editing to be very strong. I can't speak to how accurate it may be to the Chinese original, but it read smoothly and had very few errors. Overall, though they've made some mistakes, they've been communicative and responsive.

Ning Yuan titles:

BAIHE: At the World's Mercy by Ning Yuan

BAIHE (I think???) The Creator's Grace by Ning Yuan

priest titles:

Coins of Destiny (Liu Yao)

The Defectives (Can Ci Pin)

Drowning Sorrows in Raging Fire (Lie Huo Jiao Chou)

Other titles:

Albert, from Earth (Aerbote Laizi Diqiu) by Jie Mo Jun

The Bat (Bian Fu) by Feng Nong

Breaking Through the Clouds (Po Yun) by Huai Shang

Don't You Like Me (Ni Shi Bushi Xihuan Wo) by Lv Tian Yi

The Earth is Online (Diqiu Shangxian) by Mo Chen Huan

Everyone Loves the Cannon Fodder (Chuan Cheng Wan Ren Mi de Paohui Zhuma) by Qie Zai Shan Yang

Global Examination (Qianqiu Gao Kao) by Mu Su Li

Gold Class Enforcers (Jinpai Dashou) by Pao Pao Xue Er

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuanyue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ruhe Huming) by Yi Yi Yi Yi

Kaleidoscope of Death (Siwang Wanhuatong) by Xi Zi Xu

The Killer of Killers (Sha Qing) by Wu Yi

Nan Chan by Tang Jiuqing

Obsessed (Ki Ma) by Wu Chen Shui

Wine and Gun (Jiu yu Qiang) by Mengye Mengye

Wow, You Guys are Really Good at Gaming (Nimen Nansheng Da Youxi Hao Lihai O~) by Yi Xiu Luo

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Peach Flower House:

Peach Flower House titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. Whether titles are e-book only, print only, or both varies by title. In my opinion, Peach Flower House has inconsistent inconsistent editing quality, but the books are very readable, and I'm excited that they're working with translators such as E. Danglars. I haven't bought any of their special editions so can't speak to their extras, but I've bought all their print translations and will continue to do so going forward.

Da Feng Gua Guo:

The Imperial Uncle (Huang Shu)

Peach Blossom Debt (Taohua Zhai)

Other Titles:

Golden Terrace (Huang Jin Tai) by Cang Wu Bin Bai

In the Dark (Zai Hei An Zhong) by Jin Shisi Chai

Little Mushroom (Xiao Mogu) by Shisi

University of the Underworld (Yinjian Daxue) by Ziloi

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Via Lactea:

The partial list of danmei novels licensed by Via Lactea is here, but there are titles I've seen them selling that aren't on this list.

Via Lactea titles are primarily for sale through their website and through some distributors, such as Amazon.com. All titles are either print-only or e-book + print. Only a handful have actually been released, the rest are licensed and presumably in progress. I've now read three titles published by Via Lactea and while the translations are decent I could wish the editing was more consistent. Everything reads as if it would have been improved by one more thorough proof read.

Jing Shui Bian titles:

Salad Days (Jing Jiu)

Silent Hearts (Mo Mai)

Other Titles:

Apocalypse (Quanqiu Jinhua Hou Wo Zhan Zai Shiwulian Dingduan) by Qi Liu

As I've Told You Before by Sheng Jiang Tai Lang

Dawning (Liming Zhihou) by ICE

Embrace You Till the End of the game by Hu Yu La Jiao

Euthanasia (Anlesi) by Feng Su Jun

The Fall of Summer (Ting Shuo Ni Hen Nan Zhui) by Jue Chu

Falling (Luo Chi) by Yu Cheng

Psycho (Feng Zi) by Xiao Yao Zi

Limerence (Wo Xichen Ni Nan Pengyou Henjiule) by Jiang Zi Bei

Lingering Game (Chanmian Youxi) by Tao Bai Bai

Lip and Sword (Chun Qiang) by Jin Shisi Chai

May I Touch Your Spirit? by Qing Mei Jiang

The Missing Piece (Maoheshenli) by Kun Yi Wei Lou

The Omega Who Wants His Baby Back by Yao Yao Yi Yan

Raising Myself in 2006 by Qing Lv

Rose and Renaissance (Wo Zhi Xihuan Ni de Renshe [Yule Quan]) by Zhi Chu

Killing Show (Sha Lu Xiu) by Fox

Soul Vibration (Linghun Saodong) by Dr.solo

To Rule in a Turbulent World (Luan Shi Wei Wang) by Gu Xuerou

A Tyrant's Cover-up Plan by A Ci Gu Niang

Was I a Scummy Bottom? by Cheng Zi Yu

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Aloha Comics:

A tiny, Hawaii-based press focusing on manhua. Titles are available through major retailers such as Amazon and Bookshop.org. I've purchased one of these titles - Nirvana in Fire - and was please with the quality despite a couple minor errors.

All these titles are manhua!

Day Off by Qing Cai

Heaven Official's Blessing Animation Manhua by Bilibili and Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (this is a manhua made based on the donghua, using donghua art)

Here U Are by DJUN

Link Click by Li Haoling and Haoliners (not technically danmei!)

Nirvana in Fire (Lang Ya Bang) by Hai Yan (not technically danmei!)

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Monogatari Novels:

Monogatari Novels is based in Spain. These titles can also be ordered from at least some major retailers. Note that there has been some controversy about Monogatari Novels. I'm personally not ordering these works until more information is available.

BAIHE: A Clear and Muddy Loss of Love (Jing Wei Qing Shang) by Please Don't Laugh

BAIHE: Female General and Eldest Princess (NuJiangjun he Zhang Gongzhu) by Please Don't Laugh

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuan Yue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ru He Huo Ming) manhua by Yi Yi Yi Yi

The Legendary Master's Wife (Chuanshuo Zhi Zhu de Furen) by Yin Ya

The Silent Concubine (Ya Nu) by Qiang Tang

BAIHE: Soulmate manhua by Wenzhi Lizi

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BLoved Publishing:

ngl I can't figure out exactly what is up with this, and there seems to be some controversy related to them and their relationship with Monogatari Novels. Their website is depressingly low on details. However, this list is for completeness, so here we are. I'm not ordering from them based on the information currently available. There's more about the conflict between them and Monogatari here.

How to Survive as a Villain (Chuan Yue Cheng Fanpai Yao Ru He Huo Ming) manhua by Yi Yi Yi Yi

The Legendary Master's Wife (Chuanshuo Zhi Zhu de Furen) by Yin Ya

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Chaleuria:

As far as I can tell, Chaleuria has not updated their webpage since April 2023, so the current status of in-progress titles is unknown. All titles are digital and/or e-book, and I'm not sure how to purchase them as I haven't tried.

The Complete Guide to the Use and Care of a Personal Assistant (Zhuli Shiyong Zhinan) by Why Radiance

Deep in the Act (Ru Xi) by Tongzi

Fake Slackers (Wei Zhuang Xue Zha) by Mu Gua Huang (no longer available)

From Body to Love (Leng Yan E Nan: Xian Shenhou Ai) by Wan Wan Yi Xia

Interstellar Power Couple (Xingji Qiangli Lianyin) by Kun Cheng Xiongmao (no longer available)

Intoxicated Friends (Zui Qing Zhi Pengyou) by Ye Shu Ying

The Long Chase for the President's Spouse (Zongcai Zhui Fu Lu Manman) by Three Thousand Crow Language

No Money No Divorce (Mei Qian Lihun) by Shou Chu

Reborn into a Hamster for 233 Days (Chong Shengcheng Cangshu de 233 Tian) by Yi Shu

Records of the Dragon Follower (Cong Long Ji) by Yueren Ge

Urban Tales of Demons and Spirits (Dushi Yaogui Lu) by Qie Er

World Hopping: Avenge Our Love (Ni Wufa Yuliao de Fenshou, Wo Du Neng Gei Ni Song Shang) by Xiaomao Bu Ai Jiao (no longer available)

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Webnovel:

When I first made this list, I heard that Webnovel had a few titles but couldn't actually find them - but now I've found them, thanks to a list someone else put together. I'm including direct links to them, since I had so much trouble finding them at all.

Comrade: Almost a Cat-astrophic Love Story (Jintian ye Yao Nuli Dang Zhimao) by Demonic Fire (link)

My Boyfriend is a Dragon (Nanpiao Shi Tiaolong) by Chubby Strawberry Sauce (link)

The National Sweetheart Livestreamer is a Pro! (Quanmin Zhubo Shi Duiba) by Mo Shang Wang (link)

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Honorable Mentions:

There are a handful of titles I know of that are official translations of C Novels. These are not books with contextual queerness, but for folks with an interest in Chinese history and culture, they are worth checking out anyway, especially because understanding these stories can help understand the above books. Also, some have active shipping fandoms (for example, I've written for Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Daomu Biji). I've included two above under the entry for titles from Aloha Comics (Link Click and Nirvana in Fire) and here are a couple others I currently know of:

Dream of the Red Chamber (Hong Lou Meng) by Cao Xueqin, available in translation for free from Project Gutenberg

The Grave Robbers’ Chronicles (Daomu Biji) by Nanpai Sanshu (six volumes are available in English from Things Asian Press)

Journey to the West (Xiyou Ji) by Wu Cheng-en, in four volumes from University of Chicago Press

The Legend of the Condor Heroes (She Diao Yingxiong Chuan) by Jin Yong, in four volumes from St. Martin’s Press

Romance of the Three Kingdoms (Sanguo Yanyi), attributed to Luo Guanzhong, available in translations for free from Archive.org

The Seven Heroes and Five Gallants (Zonglie Xiayi Chuan), attributed to Shi Yukun, available in translation for free from Archive.org

Water Margin (Shuihu Zhuan) by Shi Nai’an, from Tuttle Publishing

RESOURCE: List of Chinese speculative fiction in English translation

RESOURCE: More Chinese speculative fiction in English translation

I will add to the "Honorable Mentions" list if I find any other more mainstream titles with official translations.

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Rumored Licenses:

Sometimes, I hear rumors about titles being licensed before the license is announced - and thus before we know which publisher has licensed them (assuming the rumor is even true). I thought I should note these somewhere. Titles I know of rumors about currently are:

A Certain Someone (Moumou) by Mu Su Li

Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know (Mozun Ye Xiang Zhidao) by Cyan Wings

The Fourteenth Year of Chenghua (Chenghua Shisi Nian) by Meng Xi Shi

Guide on How to Fail at Online Dating (Wanglian Fanche Zhinan) by Jiang Zi Bei

Immortal Koi is Going to Debut (Jinli Daxian Yao Chudao) by Mo Xi Ke

Mist (Bowu) by Wei Feng Ji Xu

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A handful of other licenses are mentioned on the Carrd I linked at the beginning of this post; I have no idea the status of those titles and wasn't able to find information on them while putting together this post other than what was listed on that Carrd, so I've omitted them.

Now go forth, and buy some books!

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 10: Love is... Missing each other (Prompt by @lihhelsing)

wc: 723 | Rated: T for suggestive language & flirtacious banter | cw: None

Tags: Phone Calls, Rockstar!Eddie, Homesick, Eddie Misses Steve

Stevie, what are you wearing?

Eddie flips onto his stomach once he finally hears a dial tone. He didn’t think it would take this long, calling the concierge to transfer him to an international call, confirming his credit card and then waiting eons for a connection.

But fuck it, he misses his not-legally-binding husband.

It’s only been a week and the band has been killing it so far but…

Call him selfish, but Eddie misses the hell out of Steve, he is desperately resiting the urge to flee back to the airport and fly home. And he feels like a pathetic sap about it.

Maybe next time he should force the boys, their management and basically everyone around Corroded Coffin to set their touring to fit in with Steve’s school schedule. Yes, that could work – certainly much better than admitting how much he wants to be snuggled up in his comfy bed with Steve, drifting off to sleep together, hopefully without their cats bothering them too much.

The ringing continues and he worries that it is going to run out entirely. He bites at his thumb nail in anticipation – it’s not like he pre-organised this phone call and god knows what time it is in Hawkins.

“Hello?” Steve grumbles on the other end.

He sounds groggy with sleep, his voice a little far away as he likely fumbles for his glasses. Eddie grins and crosses his ankles, giddy like a goddamn schoolgirl calling her crush.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he beams, earning a whine at his equitable lack of volume control.

“S’early,” Steve mumbles, “Miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Eddie coos down the line. 

Steve huffs a laugh and echoes, “Miss you so much…”

There’s a rustling sound that follows and Steve hums.

“What are you doing?” Eddie wonders aloud.

“Getting comfy again,” Steve replies, “Closin’ my eyes and pretending you are next to me.”

“That so?”

Steve hums in the affirmative.

“Stevie…” Eddie purrs as he flips onto his back, “What are you wearing?”

“Sweatpants,” Steve replies, a smile evident in his voice.

“Nothing else...” he wonders.

“Nope!” Steve sounds a little more awake now.

“The barest chest,” Eddie continues, squirming around, feeling a teasing tingle at the thought – 

– Until the phone cord almost cuts off his air supply.

He palms around (though if anyone were to see him, it would probably be better described as a full-bodied flail) and tugs at the cord enough that something topples off the nightstand.

Whatever. As long as he can still hear Steve’s quiet and even breathing on the other end.

“What about you, Elvis?” Steve soon teases.

Eddie grimaces but responds nonetheless.

“I’m in my jeans,” he supplies, trying to remain at least a little coy, “And a t-shirt.”

“So, you aren’t ready for bed?” Steve teases, giggling out a little tee-hee that makes Eddie’s heart flutter – god he loves this silly man.

“Not until after I speak to you, precious,” he deadpans.

There’s another sound – like Steve is moving around amongst the bedsheets again. Eddie wiggles his brows and hastily hooks a finger under his waistband. But he soon scrunches his nose. He probably should have removed his belt and unzipped his fly during the never-ending dial tone.

“Shit,” Steve curses before groaning in a very unfun manner, “Oh no, buddy, c’mon!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Go on, scram!” Steve commands, ignoring the question before whining again – one that sounds like whatever he is doing is an exercise in futility, “The cat won’t get off the bed.”

Eddie sinks back down.

Goddamn it.

“Which menace is bothering you, my darling?” he sighs, scrubbing his free hand over his face.

“Freddy.”

Eddie stifles a whimper as his heart swells. Of course, it’s the most adorable, scruffiest, wide-eyed and mischievous cat that’s annoying the heck out of Steve. A cat Steve himself only barely tolerates. Eddie can only imagine what Freddy must get up to when he touring.

“Fredrick?” he can’t help but beam, “Put him on the phone!”

“Eddie!”

“Please?” he begs, “I want to talk to him.”

“But what about…” Steve says, “Well, y’know?”

Eddie waves Steve’s worry away (even if he can’t see him).

“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy. We’ll get to that. Now put my son on the phone this instant!”

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.” 

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

————

a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

————

cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

[impactedfates]

“Not a Pet Darling…” - Various Xianzhou Loufu Characters x GN! Reader

Summary: You go home to your partner and show them the cute fluffy wolf you found!! Can you keep it as a pet? Your partner seems reluctant...why? well it’s a Wooden Lupus…perhaps not the safest option for a companion.

Characters Included (Separate): Jing Yuan, Blade, Luocha, Dan Feng, Fu Xuan, Qingque

Genre: Romantic + Crack(?)

Warnings: None I think

Extra: Dan Fengs part is set during the High-Cloud Quintet days // Not proofread, just a funny idea I had and had to write happy to fix any mistakes tho lol // Dan Feng is probably out of character, just started writing him // Luocha + Qingques one are pretty short

Jing Yuan blinked at you slowly, staring at you and the new canine you brought home that now lay rest on his pillow, your lap. He had just gotten home from work, and wanted to get rewarded by sleeping on your lap, with your fingers running through his hair.

He went home and when he couldn't find you, he went to the garden, only to find a wooden lupus on your lap instead. His eyes narrow as he calmly walks over.

"Dove...what's this?"

"Dog"

The General blinked once, twice and again. Questioning you. How did you manage to tame such...a dangerous animal? An abundance spirit for crying out loud??

"Dove...I...don't think that's a dog"

"No it's name is dog!"

"...Dog?"

He looked at you again, taking a deep breath, noticing the movement from...'dog', he instinctively took out his weapon, to which you quickly caged the canine with your arms and pulled it away.

"Yuan, don't!! It's cute!!"

"...It's dangerous"

You puffed out your cheeks and shook your head, carefully lifting up dog. And made it look at him. Raising one of it's paws you say in a squeaky voice.

"My name is dog, I love you"

"...Dove please..."

You put down the dog back on the ground, it runs around the garden. You stand up and look at your husband.

"You're having favouritism with Mimi right now"

"HOW DOES MIMI FIT INTO THIS"

"SHE JUST DOES."

Blade called out your name again, and again and again. Where are you?? You had to go home. HE HAS THE FUCKING GOVERNMENT ON HIS ASS DON'T DO THIS TO HIM.

.

.

.

WHY ARE YOU CARRYING A WOODEN LUPUS??

He quickly walked up to you and grabbed your shoulder.

"Love...what are you doing?"

"Adopting a friend for you"

"Why for me?"

"...C'mon...you know why"

Blade is personally offended by that comment, but he loves you so you get away with it...for now...

"Can we keep the dog?"

"It's a wolf...but fine, I'm not a dog person though"

Cue him getting the dog it's own mini home, it's own toys and loving it more then he loves you/hj (He loves you more I swear)

You didn't expect Luocha to agree so fast about adopting the dog. You couldn't even ask, he just took one look at you, one look at the dog and gave you...a look that said '...w h y'

But he agrees, (reluctantly) I mean, you tamed it right? He doesn't mind having a dog if it a) makes you happy and b) it behaves. He will say that if it decides to do a stabby stab then he'll have to throw a coffin on it.

And now you have an Abundance wolf following the two of you. You have all the reasonability's, if you ask nicely enough, Luocha might pay for dog things. Make sure he's in a good mood though, not that he'd say no it's just...it's easier to get him to buy a bunch of things if he is.

You named the wolf Bob, Luocha does not approve.

Dan Feng quickly pulled you away from the wolf and quickly hugged you close to him protectively.

"My darling, please get away from that...thing"

"IT'S NOT A THING, IT'S NAME IS FANG"

"YOU NAMED IT??"

You nodded and tried your best to get out of his iron grip but he refused to let go. Too confused on why you not only named a dangerous wolf but also it seems to actually...like you?? What black magic did you use to tame an abundance beast??

Eventually he gives into your pleas, especially since 'Fang' seems to not be...dangerous currently. But he does keep a close eye on it.

.

.

.

"Darling...stop petting Fang...I want attention too"

The Vidyadhara man said, plopping his head on your shoulder as your fingers ran through the fur of the wolf. You slightly glanced at him and mouthed 'One minute'

"You've been at this for hourrss...I am the High Elder, listen to me"

He muttered, wrapping his arms around you. Looking at you like a kicked puppy.

"You're an elder? *Dramatic Gasp* Grandpa"

"YOU'RE MARRIED TO ME."

"No"

Was Fu Xuan immediate response when you entered your shared home. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at you. The wolf behind you peaked and looked at the pink haired lady.

"...what do you me-"

"You're not adopting it"

"But-"

"No buts"

You pouted a bit at your girlfriends word. Clearly she had read your future and found what you were going to do...maybe you could try to convince her anyways?

.

.

.

You did not convince her.

Qingque nearly threw her game of majong at the dog. It bonked it's head and you were quick to hug it and check to see if it was okay.

"...[Name]...you can't have that"

"Why not?"

"...well damn I can't argue with that actually"

You smiled triumphantly at your win. You two ended up adopting 11 more.

This was just a random idea I had when I was meant to be sleeping, had to write it lmao. If y'all don't know what the Wooden Lupus are, it's the white wolves that can summon more wolves in HSR.

I had fun writing this ngl, wished I had more ideas for Luocha and Qingque but couldn't. I hope you found this entertaining/funny anyways :D

If anyone wants to do this idea as well you can, you can credit me if you want (preferably) but not necessary. But I would like to still get tagged if you do, wanna read your interpretation of the characters with this idea :>

[daemonsdivorcerock]

THE HEIR WHO NEVER WAS || d.Targaryen

IN WHICH: a decade after the two rogues of house targaryen run away, they live a content life in pentos until they are invited to laena velaryon’s funeral on driftmark and are forced to reunite with their dysfunctional family.

REQUESTED: yes/no

PAIRING: daemon targaryen x fem!reader

AUTHOR’S NOTES: sequel to “taming of the shrew”. i advise that you read that first. also reader is described as having silver hair. meraxes, the dragon of the first rhaenys targaryen, is alive for selfish reasons/j. sorry if this is shit.

WARNINGS: incest (bucket loads), westerosi shenanigans, mentions of death, childbirth, children, daemon being daemon, otto hightower, maiming/bodily injury, angst, fighting, dysfunctional family, targaryen shit etc

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

“THAT’S IT, PRINCESS, ONE MORE PUSH!” the young Pentosi midwife joyfully encourage, crouching at the end of a double bed, the white sheets tarnished with the crimson blood of the Heir Who Never Was.

(Name) panted, chest heaving. Sweat clung to her brow, eyebrows knitted, eyes closed and nose scrunched as her features contorted with pain. Her hands were occupied. One gripping Daemon’s alarmingly pale one in a vice-grip and the other holding her swollen baby bump.

“I AM PUSHING YOU CHILD-LOOKING CUNT!” (Name) shrieked hysterically. Daemon covered his mouth in a failed attempt to conceal his snicker, “DAEMON, SHUT THE FUCK UP! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU ARE NOT BEDDING ME EVER AGAIN, YOU STROPPY SMALL-COCKED GIT!”

The room was soon filled with the loud set of shrieks that the whole castle could here. (Name) began to son happily as Daemon kissed her sweaty brow. “A boy, my Princess,” the midwife happily said, holding the naked, squirming, blood-stained babe in her arms.

“It is all over now, my shrew,” Daemon softy whispered, kissing her temple lovingly, “The babe is safe. He is healthy. He is kicking like a goat. Our son,”.

Minutes later, the Rogue Prince and the Shrew of King’s Landing sat on the bed, doting on their new son. The sound of subtle whispers, odd for their daughters, came from the corridor. The door softly opened, revealing their brood of silver-haired daughters in tow with a servant, Elaine.

“Come here, girls,” (Name) beckoned, smiling happily at her daughters, “Come and meet your younger brother,”.

Their eldest, Daenerys, was mature for an almost eleven-year-old and led her younger sisters. After an encounter in a brothel in the weeks leading up to Rhaenyra’s wedding to Laenor Velaryon, (Name) refused the Moon Tea from the Grand Maester and she hadn’t regretted it.

Daenerys was the eldest of now six children. Aemma, Rhaenys, Alyssa and Rhaella followed their eldest sister. “Girls, this is your brother,” Daemon said, holding three-year-old Rhaella on his lap, whilst five-year-old Alyssa climbed onto the bed with the help of nine-year-old Rhaenys.

Seven-year-old Aemma sat closest to (Name), doting on her brother. “This is Baelon,” (Name) told the girls, gesturing to the slumbering babe in her arms, fondling smiling at the sleeping baby boy.

The girls gushed over their new brother, each getting a turn to gently hold the babe. For none of them knew what the future held for them in the days coming.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Laena Velaryon was dead. Set herself aflame after failing to give birth. The funeral was in to be held on Driftmark, as she had wanted. She’d left behind her husband, Ser Harwin Strong, and their twin daughters, Baela and Rhaena.

The funeral was teemed with tension and was a sombre occasion as Laena’s stone coffin was lowered into the sea. Laena’s mother Rhaenys looked devastated. Ten years it’d been since (Name) had seen her family. And much had occurred in ten years.

Alicent had bore her father two more sons, Aemond and Daeron. Rhaenyra had bore three sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys and the infant Joffrey, who were in no method possible Laenor’s biological children and had an, as Daemon put it, “entirely coincidental and unmarked resemblance to the Commander of the City Watch”.

After the initial funeral procedures, (Name) had noticed how the girls had made Baela and Rhaena smile a little and how her daughter Rhaenys had taken a shining to Aemond. Daenerys and Aemma were in deep conversation with Helaena. The interactions made her smile.

The girls had yet to meet their cousins, Jace, Luke and Joffrey. Or their aunt, Rhaenyra. Rhaella clung onto (Name)’s skirts, hiding behind the thick, black velvet of the dress’ material.

Baelon was a heavy sleeper, currently residing in his mother’s arms, his chest rising and falling with each breath he took and gave. She’d reunited with her cousins, Rhaenys and Corlys Velaryon, offering her sympathies for what happened to Laena.

As children and teenagers, (Name) had shared a sweet friendship with Laena, comforting her after the events at the Heir’s Tournament all those years before. They’d danced at the celebrations for Laenor and Rhaenyra’s wedding ceremony.

Her father looked terrible. His hair had thinned and he looked frankly horrible. Yet, he somehow gave his eldest daughter a smile. “(Name),” Viserys spoke. His voice sounded heavy as if it pained him to utter the word, “It is…good to you, my daughter,”.

(Name) gave him a half-curtsey, careful not to wake Baelon. “As it is equally good to see you, father,” she spoke, half-smiling, “Ten years. It certainly has been a long time,”.

Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aemma, Alyssa and Rhaella trailed behind their rogue of a father. “Brother,” Daemon greeted, “Time hasn’t been too kind on you,”.

(Name) thought he’d be upset but Viserys laughed slightly at Daemon’s comment. “These are your granddaughters,” (Name) said, “Daenerys, she is ten. Rhaenys is nine. Aemma is seven. Alyssa is five. Rhaella is three,”.

Viserys fondly smiled at each of his granddaughters. “They have their mother’s beauty,” the King mentioned. (Name) noticed how he’d visibly tensed at hearing Aemma and Alyssa’s names but smiled, “Is this my grandson, who cried a little during the precessions?”.

Daemon smirked. “His name is Baelon,” he casually mentioned, causing the king to visibly tense again, “After Father. He was born but three weeks ago,”.

“That was around the same time as when Joffrey was born,” a voice chimed in. Rhaenyra, with her sons,“Sister. Uncle. It is good to see you both again. And meet my nieces and nephew,”.

(Name) was elder than Rhaenyra by a year. Their relationship soured when Rhaenyra was named the heir to the Iron Throne, despite (Name) being Viserys’ eldest child. “Sister,” she smiled, “Those must be my nephews. Jace, Luke and…Joffrey, he’s inside, is he not? They will be good knights, so…Strong,”.

Viserys’ face blanched. Rhaenyra glared whilst the boys looked confused. “Do not take is as an insult, boys,” (Name) spoke in a manner that bordered on mocking, “It is good to be Strong, is it not, sister?”.

Daemon began to snicker. (Name) handed Baelon to Viserys, who held him in his remaining arm. (Name) sharply elbowed Daemon in the ribs, causing him to spill his cup of wine slightly.

Rhaenyra huffed, walking away to speak to Laenor. Luke followed Rhaenyra suit. Jace lingered. “Aunt,” he asked, catching (Name)’s attention, “May I ask you something?”.

“Of course, dear boy,” (Name) spoke, smiling at the brunette boy, “You may ask me whatever you wish,”

“Mother will not be honest with me about this matter…” Jace spoke, nervously fiddling with his fingers, “Am I a…bastard? Is Ser Harwin my father?”.

(Name)’s eyes widened in horror. Was Rhaenyra truly planning to put a bastard on the Iron Throne? She always knew her father was metaphorically blind, but not this blind. She was blatantly aware of her father’s favouritism to Rhaenyra. But she never knew it was this bad.

“Yes,” she spoke quietly, “I cannot believe your mother is not being honest about this to you. Harwin Strong is your father. Laenor is not your father. Nor is he Luke or Joffrey’s father. I am so sorry, dear boy,”.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

Earlier in the day, whilst Daemon was holding Baelon, (Name) found herself skulking around in black velvet after Laena’s casket had been lowered into the ocean.

“Hand turns loom…” the dreamlike voice of her younger sister, Helaena Targaryen, uttered, letting a spider crawl across the skin of her hand, “Spool of Red…Spool of Black…dragons of flesh…weaving dragons of thread,”.

(Name) crouched next to Helaena. “Sister,” Helaena greeted, smiling at her older sister, “May I tell you something?”.

The older woman smiled at her younger sister. “Of course, Hel,” (Name) spoke, “Anything,”.

As an infant, Helaena was restless and cried with her whole being unless she was held by (Name). “I have…strange dreams,” Helaena confessed, “And those dreams…become real as time goes on…do you think that is normal?”.

(Name) placed a hand on Helaena’s shoulder. “My dear Helaena,” she spoke, catching Helaena’s attention from the spider, “It is. You see…many years ago, before the fall of Old Valyria, our ancestor, Daenys, had a dream. She dreamed of the fall of Old Valyria two and ten years before it actually happened,”.

Helaena’s eyes widened, beckoning her sister to continue. “As Targaryens, we are known for our ability to ride dragons. Some Targaryens had the ability to dream of the future. Dragon Dreamers. I am a Dreamer, just like you. My sister, don’t ever let Aegon make you feel inferior without your consent. You are a marvel,”

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The sun was barely setting when she discovered a horrific sight. Otto Hightower, who’d been reinstated as Hand of the King, was roughing up Aegon, who was half-drunk and slumped against the wall.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, Lord Hand?” (Name) spoke, glaring at hole into Otto Hightower’s soul. Her voice had a frightening steeliness to it.

Otto bowed. She truly resented Otto, as a man and as Hand of the King. “Princess,” he greeted, “There is nothing to see here. I suggest you rejoin Prince Daemon inside,”.

She scoffed. “I would rather feed myself to Meraxes than listen to a word you have to say,” (Name) spat, folding her arms, “I know a few dragons who would gladly set you alight, akin to a torch. Caraxes, Meraxes, Vermithor and Silverwing, for instance,”.

Otto visibly tensed. He bowed and walked past her. “Sister,” Aegon drunkenly slurred, as (Name) heaved teenager up from the ground, “-Nice to see you again! I missed you!”.

“I missed you too, Egg,” (Name) smiled to the boy, placing his arm across her shoulders for support and guiding him up the stairs. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed, sweet Prince,”.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

It was the late evening when (Name) had been approached. The events following Laena’s funeral had been drastic. Young Aemond had claimed Vhagar as his mount, causing a fight between him, Jace, Luke, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aemma, Baela and Rhaena.

It was an honest accident when Daenerys maimed Aemond and caused him to lose and eye. Alicent understood that. What she did not understand was that it was in defence of Jace and Luke’s legitimacy.

It’d blown up into a full-blown fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent, one of which had come at the other with a Valyrian Steel Dagger belonging to Aegon the Conqueror. (Name) had stepped in and gotten cut across the bridge of her nose.

There was a sharp knock at the door, catching both the attentions of the Rogue Prince and the Shrew of King’s Landing. “Enter,” (Name) spoke. The doors opened, revealing the visage of Otto Hightower.

Daemon blanched. “Lord Hand,” he bitterly spoke, “Have you come to darken our door for the ordeal earlier?”.

Otto sent a steely glare Daemon’s way, causing the Rogue Prince to mockingly smirk at him. “I have not, Daemon,” Otto spoke. Alicent stood behind him, guiltily staring at (Name), “I have come to speak to Princess (Name),”.

This caught (Name)’s attention, who was rocking Baelon softly in her arms, their daughters had since retired to the guest chambers with Baela and Rhaena hours prior. “Speak plainly, Lord Hand,” (Name) commanded coolly, briefly making eye contact with Ser Criston Cole, “What brings to you my chambers at this time of night?”.

“I believe we are…aligned,” Otto mused, adjusting the pin on his emerald-coloured lapel, making Daemon scoff, “In our beliefs in regards to the legitimacy of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons and the line of succession,”.

He was putting salt into the all the right wounds. (Name) was still evidently bitter about her younger sister being named heir over her and her plans to put her bastard son on the throne.

“My father is a fool,” (Name) confessed, softly stroking Baelon’s silver-coloured tufts of hair, “Nothing would change that. He is blind to the truth. Rhaenyra is his favourite child and nobody can deny that. He cannot accept the truth that Jace, Luke and Joffrey are bastards,”.

Otto smirked. “What if it did not have to be that way?” Alicent asked. This made (Name) glance at her stepmother, “What if another were to inherit the throne after the King’s passing?”.

“How would you like to be Queen, (Name)?” The Hand of the King quickly asked, making (Name) glance at Daemon, holding Baelon closer to her chest.

[fangirlandtheories]

Do you remember when we used to sing?

Eddie is away on tour while Steve is taking care of their daughter a few hours away. Too bad she can't fall asleep without her special bedtime song...

--

Steve’s brows pinched together as the cries grew in pitch and volume, almost drowning out the familiar click of ‘Hey it’s Eddie, call me back or don’t, I’m not your mother.’ from the speaker of his phone. 

He had shifted from frustrated to desperate as he glanced over at their daughter, red faced and snot nosed. Bedtime was a solid hour past due and didn’t seem to be looming any closer. 

“It’s okay, sweets, we’ll call him again.” Steve soothed as he ran a hand down the toddler’s back. 

“Daddy!!!” She screamed again, choking with the effort of her sobs, as she squeezed her eyes shut. It had been love at first sight for Eddie and Steve when they had met Rayne’s mother. She was young, just turning 20 in the fall, with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was looking for someone who wanted a baby that couldn’t naturally have their own and the agent connected the dots for them. After several months, little Rayne was theirs.

“I know,” Steve muttered as he pulled up Eddie’s contact again. Eddie had taken a break from touring after the adoption of their daughter but had recently started back up. It started off pretty well, the excitement of getting to have a Dad weekend with Steve pulling her through, but now the newness was gone and all little Rayne Munson-Harrington wanted was Eddie. 

Eddie usually found weekend gigs but had found a week long slot in a club in St. Louis that promised great publicity and even better payment, so Corroded Coffin hit the road and Steve held down the fort with some help from Robin and Wayne. They were obligated to babysit, she was named after both of them afterall, and he was grateful because work had been taxing enough without adding a feisty 4 year old to the mix. 

A flu bug was sweeping it’s way through Hawkin’s Elementary and it spared no casualties in Steve’s kindergarten classroom. He spent the day trying to keep the class from putting things in their mouths and making sure everyone washed their hands, sending a child or two home after seeing the greenish pale tints of nausea pass over their faces. He knew that he’d have to deal with kids puke at some point, especially as a parent, but he’d like to avoid it at all costs. 

“Pick up your phone you ass.” He hissed through clenched teeth, rocking the inconsolable girl in his arms as he dialed again.

***

Eddie first felt the familiar jolt of vibration in his back pocket  just after the first chorus. The second time was just a few verses later. He smiled into the microphone as he continued to sing, ignoring his phone. The third time was in the bridge of the song, a particularly terrible time to take a call as Eddie’s hands were preoccupied with his guitar. The fourth time happened in the final notes of the song. The fifth during the applause. Eddie frowned as he pulled the device from his pocket, ignoring a glare from Jeff.

“Hey guys, you won’t believe this but my husband is facetiming me right now. This is like the fifth time he’s called so I’m going to answer, everybody be quiet and let’s see how long it takes him to remember that we had a later show tonight.” Eddie laughed as the audience silenced quickly. Steve’s irritated yet grateful face popped up on the screen seconds later.

“Hey love…” He crooned with a cheeky smirk.

“Your daughter is very upset with you.” Steve ignored the affectionate nickname. 

“Why is she my daughter whenever she’s mad?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is she alright?”

“She’s been screaming since 8:30 Eds.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated sigh. “She’s refusing to sleep until you do it, that’s why I’ve been calling.”

“Steve I’m um…” Eddie glanced nervously at the audience in front of him. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yeah I wanted to be relaxing right now too but our kid needs her dad and since he’s five hours away the very least he could do is sing her the damn song so that we all can get some rest.” Steve squinted at him. “You’re being weirder than usual. Are the guys there with you?”

“Yeah the guys are definitely with me.” Eddie ignored Gareth’s snicker. “Can I call you-”

“Edward, so help me God, sing the song so that she can go to sleep.” Steve interrupted. “Look at her.” Steve turned the camera to the distraught little girl and Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Hi angel, I hear you’re a little sad.” He frowned in solidarity with her as her lip stuck out. “No, don't cry, it’s okay Ray Ray.” She howled louder, tears popping from her wet lashes. He winced as he lip quivered, his resolve wearing down to nothing. He glanced over at Gareth, leaning over to whisper to him before looking back to his phone.

“Alright fine, let’s sing it, yeah?” Eddie placated. “You’re breaking my heart Bambi.” The wide eyes and long lashes practically gifted the nickname to her. He glanced back at Gareth who gave him a thumbs up before looking at the audience. “Daddy’s band is going to help him sing it, is that okay?” Rayne whimpered as she nodded, snuggled into Steve’s arms as he held the phone in front of her.

“Wait, are you on stage right now?” Steve leaned forward. “Shit, I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to interrupt the performance.”

“You couldn’t interrupt if you tried.” Eddie smiled. “Isn’t that right?” Steve could hear cheers from the audience. “We love our rock and roll family here and we honor our traditions, most of all the bedtime song. Ready boys? Sing along if you know it, our most honored guest is in the audience tonight and would love to hear you guys.”

With that, Jeff  played the opening notes on the guitar while Gareth tapped out the beat with the rarely used tambourine. The bass thumped along to Eddie’s singing, and though it admittedly wasn’t their usual style, the band loved Rayne like she was their niece and they would play anything to make her happy.

“-In the misty morning fog with our hearts a-thumping” Eddie held the microphone in one hand and the phone in the other, beaming at the smile on Steve’s face. “And you, my brown eyed girl.” Rayne giggled and clapped, tears still on her cheeks but sadness having finally passed. 

***

Hours and miles away, Steve smiled as he shut the door to his daughter's bedroom, the nightlight softly glowing, as he hummed the song to himself. Tomorrow there would be a series of tweets about Eddie going soft and videos flying all around the internet, but for now, and for the first time that evening, the Munson-Harrington home was quiet.

[cafeleningrad]

No, I don't think that RGU "subverts fairy tale narratives". On the contrary. I don't know how intentional the writing was on the writer's part but RGU's themes, structure, and resolution are much closer aligned to the Grimm-fashion fairy tales than the manicured opening sequence might make the viewer believe. At some points they do conciously reference fairy tales whilst alos having a good grasp on it's story contents. In fact, the opening sequence is less accurate about fairy tales than the actual plot of RGU.

Anyhow, actually a quick rambling how many fairy tale motives are in Utena. some referenced to, some overtly named, some just by my personal associciation:

The only fairy tale where the story is actually changed is Sleeping Beauty. There the visual reference is extremely strong with the duel plattform (a tower) being hidden in a forbidden forest, surrounded by thorns and roses, a princess waiting/sleeping (in her coffin) on a bed of roses. But unlike in the tale, the princess isn't woken up by the whimse of the prince but is allowed to choose if she even wants to wake up. [By the way, here's an essay comparing the pschycological literary interpretation of (The contemporary reading of) Sleeping Beauty with RGU.]

On the theme of girl locked away in a tower: Rapunzel come to my mind. Indeed Rapunzel loves her prince but he's also her co-conspirator as well as mean to escape her captivity. Their scheming is interrupted, both get horribly injured while attempting to escape. They both wnader around for a long time until their finally find each other. Scarred, they still are deeply happy to have found each other once more.

One OST track is titled "Bluebeard's castle". So fitting to be played in Akio's tower. The titular Bluebeard appears at first charming. Yet his bride discovers his secret chamber of previously killed women, relaizing what a monster her once so enarmoured husband is. It's a fairy tale beginning with a slight snese of unease, building up dread the longer the bride resides in the castle. What a perfect association for Akio's facade and body count of abuse.

The next Bluebeard in the making, Touga explicitly compares Utena with "the golden Goose"; In which every one tries to rip out the bird's golden feathers, creating a gigantic queue of greed. Even though Touga most likely wants to compare Utena to something precious worth exploiting, his comparison misses how the goose's doing finally made a princess laugh, and none actually was able to rip out the precious gold feathers.

Speaking of animals... In an conversation during which Nanami has a hard time naming her ever growing distress towards Touga's and her relationships, one statue in the background switches in the form of the "Musicians of Bremen". Nanami carriesway more animal associations than even Anthy. In fact Nanami turning into a cow is her being treated as domestic labour animal. In "The musicians of Bremen", labour animals are to be slaughtered after they can't labour anymore. So they flee their circumstances, band together (heh), and find a new home as band of misfits. Whereas the statue is a string of visual warnings about Nanami's dangerous situation, it gives me hope, that Nanami might, like the Bremen musicians, escape to a not glamorous but future full of support and friendship.

Last association coming to my mind. This is an entire free-falls association but with so many Utena-Nanami-paralles, why not make an animal comparison, too? Utena reminds me so much of the "Puss in Boots". Not destined to be anything but a cat, anything but a girl, she puts on clothing that shoul dnot be hers. It suits her quiet well. Yet the puss does it's deeds to help out their master who gave her the boots. They trick an evil magician with nothing but cleverness and ligt up their master into fortune. Utena doesn't help out of thanksfulness yet, like the cat, she does act out of care and adoration for the rose bride, and triumphs over a sinister figure that seemed once so overly powerful. LIke the wizard turning himself into a mouse, Akio turns out to not be overly powerful but actually a scared manchild who refuses to grow up, and actually isn't the allmighty figure he paints himself to be.

[Bonus: Saionji as the frog prince. Very serious analysis. Even though the popular image is one of a princess kissing a frog, and him turning into a prince, the actual tale is... not so gentle. The frog asks the princess to take hiom with her, in return to giving her back the ball that actually belongs to her. The princess feels humiliated having to play-act a romantic dinner scene at the frog's demands to sit on her side and be fed. Her protests are overruled by her father reprimanding her to hold her promise towards the frog. (Anthy mentioning how Akio is more like her father to her.) But the princess has her fill with the impertinent frog, throws him against a wall, and there: He becomes a prince. The parallels between Saionji getting beat up like a punching bag until he finally chills (somewhat) down are almost too obvious. Also, the frog and him share the colour green.]

In general, fairy tales often feature disempowered protagonists, often young women, most of the time they aren't even royalty. The protagonists often survive the most dire consequences by cleverness, resourcefulness but also their kindness to strangers - not raw power or powerful magic. I've no idea why people claim that retellings are "dark", "misbehaving", or "adult" because not only is it inaccurate to whom fairy tales were told, but even in format of children's publications, fairy tales are incredibly dark already. Children's fears of abusive parents, being neglected, mistrateatment, poverty, the world being scary being forsaken by mistakes by those who were supposed to care for the child, domestic violence, even incestuous abuse do feature in fairy tales - however, the protagonists survive the most dire of straits. Even if hurt in the process, they surivive, and "lived happily ever aftere". It's a faint, promise that they found happiness anyway. How similar it rings with "someday we will shine". If these common elements don't ressemble Utena's journey, and the circumstances of her friends, i don't know what else would bear a stronger ressemblance.

Apart from Anthy's and Akio's vague connection to godhood, and allegory, none of the kinds is special. Utena is a classic fairy tale orphan child, no special parentage, only her role as protagonist follows her fending off the darkness around her.

[melinoelliones]

BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK BLACK BUTLERS COMING BACK 

Say hello to my husband <3 I was tryna wait till October to do Black Butler shit but now I gotta.... 

Reminder, how I interpret these characters may be different to how YOU interpret them, don’t jump me if you dislike what I say. X fem and X gn reader

This is more on the Undertaker before his ass takes off the hat side, so the jokey cheeky Undertaker. ALSO MANGA SPOILERS FOR THE LETTER W!! 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s probably giggling to himself and mocking the noises and phrases you said during sex LMAOOOOO. Really tho he’ll defo pull the blankets over you and feed you one of them dog bone biscuits, kisses in abundance, nothing too crazy as he will probably leave while you sleep do to fuck knows what.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves our whole body, he examines it like crazy and he says it’s so “he can fit us for a coffin one day”...... I feel like he loves our throat though 100%

On him, he loves his hands and he takes VERY good care of them, fresh set n everything we all saw that shit

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Enjoys doing it on your entire front, all of it, top to bottom

Also loves it down your throat, you can never take it all at once so watching it trickle down the corners of your mouth alongside your spit and tears is everything to him

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Enjoys doing stuff while he has customers present, if you make a noise or people get suspicious he’ll laugh or do something stupid to get people off it

He has shamelessly got off to the thought of you, maybe even your underwear

He begs and he enjoys doing it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is quite experienced I’ll be honest

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Riding in all ways possible, he wants you on him, grinding up against him whilst he helps you. Watching your needy face try to take everything in has him grinning like a crazy man

Missionary where your legs are over your head pretty much. You pushing his hair to the side as he’s panting and whimpering slightly, you know he’s close but he won’t stop

Any position where you are half hanging out a coffin, kinda like stuck in a wall but your stuck half out a coffin? He probably made a custom one JUST for this. Hearing your moans echo off the walls of the coffin keeps him going.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very goofy, keeps the jokes going THROUGHOUT

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It’s pretty wild down there imma be real

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is always making jokes and sometimes being cocky but he’ll always show an intimate side straight after

“F~Fuck just like that, please please keep going” he’d choke out laughing, mocking what you had just moaned out. “Don’t give me that face, I want to hear more of it” he’d laugh once more at your pout, pulling you into a kiss whilst pushing deeper into you.

Sum like that

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

A lot and he has NO shame in it. It’s pretty shocking how often he can do it. Sometimes he’ll stay pent up just to get off when he knows you’re coming home as he knows you love when he’s a whimpering n babbling mess, maybe you’ll even decide to help him out?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Blindfolds, he loves to mess with ALL of your senses while you can’t see

Knife kink and blood but its SUBTLE. You may or may not have seen him store away a bit of your blood though, wonder what he’s saving that for…..

Restraints, wants to tie you up around his shop

Toys for both of you, watching you desperately cry out to cum as he keeps turning off the vibe

Choking, he enjoys doing it while thrusting into you with full force, hearing you choke out moans and mumbles while he tightens his grip

Dacryphilia for sureeee, would examine your face and wipe your tears while fucking into you with no remorse. Even lets out a giggle or two while at it 

“Well would you look at that, you’re crying my dear, such a pretty specimen indeed. Cmon you can hold out for me, just a bit longer and i’ll make you feel so so good”

Not sure if its a kink but pussy eating. He will sit there for as long as he can just eating you out till you're completely numb from the waist down. 

"You haven't used your safeword yet you've cum 4 times in a row, is it too much for you yet hehe? Cmon, let me wipe those tears, you're too pretty to cry. Now how about I make it 6 times, or even 10 AHA, can you take all that my sweet sweet doll? Let's see shall we?" he'd smirk whilst shoving a couple digits into your already sopping core, tongue already making its way to your swollen clit. He would go on all night long if he could.

L = Location (favourite places to do they do)

Every corner of his store, if you can see it, you've done it there. Favourite would probably be on his desk though.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

YOU! JUST YOU! You are something he’s never seen before and the way you make him feel is unmatched.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything outside the shop or on ONE specific coffin.... Whats in there?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a munch, yes I said it

Begs to have you on his face, even if that beg is in riddles or him twisting the narrative

“Hehe cmon, you know you want to, have a seat my dear, it's all yours”

“I want to taste you just once more, cmon don’t be shy, I won’t bite, unless you want me to hehe” 

He also loves receiving too though, you under his gown, even when customers are in and he’ll be giggling while starting to fuck your face on the other side of the desk

“Aha, look at you, you did brilliantly. You barely made a peep whilst they were here, such a special specimen indeed” he’d coo, pulling back his cloak to ease you off his cock, your tears mixed with his release rolling down your lower face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s cheeky as fuck. Would start slow, then speed up to a perfect pace then as you are close slow all the way back down, to the point where it's technically edging and you can’t even get off. I can hear him giggling now 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He says “Come on my love, we can make it quick” then ya’ll are at it for an hour. Ultimate LIAR. It gets boring in his shop so ya’ll still do it often anyway 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Hell yeah but he knows you will never get caught. Just for entertainment you defo tried to get caught but he covered it up swiftly

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go for a hot minute, like 5+ rounds. With his personality people could think otherwise but absolutely not.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

A sucker for a toy. He defo made a pocket pussy using YOURS, so when you aren’t with him he has a replica but he knows it's not exactly the same. Also has a vibe, he has sensitive nipples and we take FULL advantage of that

He loves to use toys on you too though, watching how they make your body react is quite fascinating. He can tell the difference between fake and his real thing though and he adores it, your needy face begging for the real thing is everything. Only he can make you feel certain ways

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Too much, but the orgasms he makes you reach after are always worth it

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

When he’s seriously into it he only grunts and dirty talks, otherwise it's the opposite, whimpering and cursing under his breath

“How does that feel my dear? You like it deep don’t you”

“Your body takes it so well, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep g~going much longer”

“Listen to yourself, all this dirty talk from such a sweet specimen?”

“A girl like you should be walking the streets of Soho, yet here you are taking the cock of an Undertaker. How did I get so lucky to have the dirtiest of them all stroll through my doors?”

“Aha, keep going love, i’m not finished just yet”

W = Wild card (a random dirty headcanon for the character)

Would consider making you into a puppet when you die and keeping you for…. Personal reasons

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Dude is pretty big so imma say 8/9 inches, more on the slenderish side but veiny

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Unusually high

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He doesn’t, he’ll pretend to but go off once you’re asleep. Dudes got things….. to do.......

[dez78]

You can't run

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

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!SorceressReader

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Angst, Death. Happy ending.

Summary: You do whatever it takes to protect the one you love and so does he.

A/N: I'm pretty sure I wasn't lore friendly, I just had an idea and decided to have fun with it, please don't leave any negative comments about this being un-lore friendly. I was just having fun. Enjoy!

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'When you love something, you protect it with your entire life at any cost, and right now, your guts telling you to do that very thing.'

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

The battle with Cazador raged on, his prowess was relentless. You struggled as did your companions. Astarion was being held captive and you did whatever it took to protect him.

Even if that meant putting yourself in front of death itself.

"You stupid girl! Astarion is mine!" Cazador spat at you as he blasted powerful spells at you, you dodged effortlessly.

"You have no power here!" Cazador wailed, his crimson eyes glowing with the power of the devil.

"Then you were foolish and have underestimated me!" You cried boldly.

"Underestimated? Silly girl, love will not save Astarion. Nothing can!" Cazador mocked you. You were furious and your eyes flashed red. Your nostrils flared.

"He isn't yours to torment! " You screeched,

"And I will not stop until I get him back! Until he's safe in my arms!" You wailed; your companions watched as your hands illuminated in a powerful magic.

"GIVE ME MY HUSBAND!" Your voice was not your own as you screamed at the top of your lungs. Your whole body glowing with the weave, your eyes bright orbs.

You pushed your hands out in front of yourself and the magic within you came out in a wave of thunderous light. The shockwave was devastating. The stone floor undid itself from the impact, your companions and Cazador flew back. The pillars the spawn were held, crumbled from the impact and crashed to the floor.

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

When you came to, you saw the disaster you had created. You ran through the wreckage and was able to get Astarion, you grabbed his hand, raising him to his feet. He embraced you tightly.

"You stupid, girl!" Cazador wailed as he stood up, you looked up angrily. You stood between him and Astarion. You would do anything to protect the one you loved. Anything.

"If you want him, then you have to go through me first." You growled, Cazador rolled his eyes and held up his hand.

"So be it." He replied as he made a fist. You made the most horrible sound Astarion has ever heard, the sound of pure agony. You held your chest, you felt like your organs were being crushed.

You fell to the ground incapacitated.

"Y/N!" Astarion wailed with despair as he knelt by you, your companions rushed over to you.

Cazador limbed away, holding his broken rips. He needed healing sleep. Astarion's face held something his companions had never seen. His eyes glowed bright and darkened at the same time.

His face twitched with fury as he watched Cazador disappear into his coffin.

"You do not get to take her from me. You can take my life, but you cannot take HERS!" Astarion was full of rage as he stood, his companions looked up. Shadowheart healed you.

Astarion paraded towards the coffin, he pushed the heavy stone away, then he grabbed Cazador,

"No healing sleep for you, WAKE UP!" Astarion bellowed as he threw Cazador onto the floor.

"You pathetic child, how dare you! Your stupid bitch ruined the ritual already. It will take me months to rebuild this room!" Cazador spat. Astarion's face was rage filled, he snapped his hand forward and slapped his old master across the face.

"How dare you speak ill of my wife." He snarled.

"For a moment, I wanted to be just like you, but I realized I could be so much more. I envied you, but now. I want nothing more than to see your corpse beneath my feet." Astarion said as he grabbed Cazador's hair and snapped his head back.

"I'm above you, I'm so much more than what you made me." He said as he grabbed the dagger,

"But I'm not above enjoying this." He said turning the knife, before he strikes, he whispered to his old master.

"Give the devil my regards."

Then Astarion stabbed Cazador repeatedly. The years of torment, abuse, and the pain of his wife's near death came all out at once in one raging moment.

The companions stood back watching the scene play out, Cazador's blood splattered onto Astarion's body and face. The boy screamed as he finally got the revenge he desired after two hundred years.

Astarion finally let go of Cazador and he fell to the floor, his blood gushing from his chest, pooling on the floor. Astarion went to his knees, letting out short, guttural cries.

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

You finally came to, but you were barely conscious.

"Hey, soldier." Karlach smiled softly, Shadowheart sighed in relief. You looked around with hazy vision. You saw Astarion kneeling in Cazador's blood as the vampire laid lifeless.

"What happened?" You asked groggily.

"The bastard crushed your insides." Wyll growled.

"But Astarion put an end to him!" Karlach said proudly.

"We thought we lost you for good." Gale said, knitting his eyebrows together in concern.

"I've never seen Astarion that angry. He truly loves you Y/N. You sacrificed your life to save him, and he avenged you." Shadowheart said shakily.

"Avenged me?" You questioned, Shadowheart sighed.

"Your heart did stop, but I managed to revive you before the gods claimed your soul." She explained. You were taken aback. You looked back at Astarion, he was still kneeling, his head hung low. You couldn't imagine what he was feeling.

You stood and stumbled, but Gale caught you before you fell. He carefully led you over while the other companions followed in tow.

"My star?" You said, Astarion looked up when he heard your voice,

"You're alive!" He wailed. You saw the wave of relief wash over his face, replacing the grief. He stood and embraced you tightly, you winced.

"Be careful, fangs." Karlach warned him, Astarion pulled back, but still held your shoulders.

"You're okay." He breathed as he pet your face, tears racing down his face. You smiled weakly, still in pain.

"I'm okay, sweetheart." You told him.

"Don't you ever leave me again!" Astarion barked, you chuckled slightly.

"That? Pfft, it'll take more than crushing my organs to keep me away from you, babe." You joked teasingly with a playful smile. Astarion couldn't help the huge smile that made home on his face.

"You found the strength to kill him?" You said, nodding towards Cazador who was lying dead at his feet. Astarion's jaw flexed, he was making a face you didn't recognize.

"I wasn't about to let that bastard walk free after what he did to you. He wasn't going to get away from me, nobody hurts my love and lives to tell the tale. They can't run or hide from me." Astarion explained, his eyes started to glow as they became a darker shade.

Now you knew what Shadowheart was talking about. You gently put your hand to his face, bringing him out of his trance.

"I love you." You said with a smile, Astarion stretched his lips into his own smile. That beautiful one you loved so much. The one that put the glint in his eyes.

"I love you too, darling." Astarion replied as he embraced you, you returned it. The two of you stood there for a long time, not wanting to let each other go. Ever again.

[mmogurl]

So, last night I finally got through Daemon's arc in Fire and Blood.. There are going to be major spoilers in this post, so only click -keep reading- if you have read it already.. or don't care if I spoil it by talking frankly about its contents! I will be discussing Rhaenyra as well as Aemond. **SPOILERS!! IF YOU KEEP READING! YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.

So, I am just completely wrecked by his ending and how Rhaenyra basically pushes him to it with her psychotic, stupid ways. I mean.. I strongly disliked Rhaenyra after the show, before even reading the book (especially after that fight where she says she can't trust him which is not in the book). But now after reading it, I utterly despise her! She's awful! Horrible.. and the worst kind of stupid! It's like, she just goes kind of nuts, but nobody notices that she has. But it's so obvious that she is not thinking clearly, that or she truly doesn't care about anyone or anything.. Like they are all just pawns to her, dogs to use. But then she doesn't even know how to move them properly on the board - hence my calling her stupid.. I feel like her response of ordering Nettles death was the last nail in the coffin for Daemon, and he was just like.. Fuck this shit.. I mean she literally says, she doesn't care if the lord there takes her head in her sleep.. and she slept with Daemon! Can you imagine that shit?? And this is after she said it's perfectly ok for him to sleep around with Mysaria while Rhaenyra is seemingly uninterested in him, so it's not like she was jealous. But, it seemed like he might have actually cared for Nettles and so he sends her away to save her from all the fucking madness surrounding Rhaenyra and by proxy himself... The line where he and Aemond are talking and the young prince says he's lived long enough.. where Daemon simply replies.. "On that much we can agree," is just so telling.

Imagine having been instrumental in putting Rhaenyra on the throne only to have it become so fucked in the end. And ultimately, I don't think he has the heart to do what he SHOULD do.. which is kill her.. he just decides to go off and die an honorable death in battle like a fucking Viking warrior going off to Valhalla.. But it's so bittersweet.. I hated it.. hated how it all felt like it was for nothing.. because Rhaenyra's a fucking idiot who can't listen to a god damned bit of advice from her much more experienced husband! Like, he suggests TWICE in the book to give Ulf and Hugh something to keep them happy and twice she refuses! So how does it come as a surprise when they turncoat?? But let's be realistic.. the whole Red Sowing was fucking foolhardy to begin with! Tell me, does it make sense to give the power of a god to bastards with no allegiance!? And then to not even buy their allegiance!? It's. just. stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. I'm going to be writing my fic with even more fervor now, because honestly, the entire war in the book.. What happens to Maelor, what happens at Tumbleton!? It's all a nightmare and should be avoided.. A terrible, terrible wrong that must be made right! Ugh! Rhaenyra was already an opponent in my fic - In the Shadow of Dragons. Without spoiling the story, I already have it out for her, but now it's on like fucking Donkey Kong, bitch! Ugh, and to lose Daemon and Aemond at the same time!?! X_X!!! It was at least an awesome battle and the art in the book was epic level, but they are both my favorites and now they are both dead. Now all that is left is to read about how cake eating, psycho Rhaenyra gets overthrown. I am currently at the part where King's Landing has gone into revolt.. and I'm thinking it won't be pretty for her when it happens. And there's another thought.. when you see everything awful that happens under Rhaenyra's rule, one cannot help but consider.. That even Aegon might have done a better job!

/End Rant

[milliesfishes]

꣑ৎ౨ৎSpellbound (Part Three)꣑ৎ౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: talk of witchcraft, trauma, threats of death, mentions of abuse, violence pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: witch reader x billy the kid author’s note: I really hope I did the end justice. thank you for all the support on this series! anon who sent the original request, you have my heart <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Nightmares were as regular as breathing for you.

Billy learned so the night he pulled you from the pond. He'd fallen asleep beside the fire; you cradled in his arms. You were so soft and warm despite your earlier tryst in the water, all warmed up from the adjacent flames and the comfort of his arms. As soon as you slipped into sleep, he allowed himself to shut his eyes, confident you were protected and safe resting against him.

An awful scream pierced the night, and he shot up wide eyed, head jolting around for the source, holding you tight against him. It was only when he felt the vibrations on his chest that Billy realized they were coming from you.

He lifted you under your arms to sit directly on his lap, running his fingers through your hair until you awoke, blearily looking up at him. "Billy?"

Sighing in relief, he pressed your face against his chest, rocking you back and forth soothingly. "Honey...'r you okay? Whatsa matter?"

"I get bad dreams sometimes," you murmured, rubbing your eyes. "I have ever since I was spellbound."

"'bout...?" Billy didn't want to say it out loud for respect of the situation.

Nodding and resting your body against his chest, you murmured, "Yes."

"Baby," he whispered, eyes clouding over with concern. He stroked your hair, roving his fingers through it. Mind and heart both were weighed heavy with your revelations.

Married. The mere thought of you being trapped in a situation with someone alike to the scum of the earth made his blood boil. The fact that anyone would dare do such things to a woman filled him with a desire to hunt your former husband down and teach him a new meaning of pain.

But, looking down at you, he knew that wouldn't make your current situation better. It would only weigh you down more with unearned responsibility. Besides, you possessed more power than he knew. If you'd truly wanted to you would have exacted revenge.

You were goodhearted. Purer than him in every way. It was something to marvel at: the difference between you. He'd been forced into a situation that'd caused him to pick up a gun, become a murderer. Now his name was associated with danger, his face splashed across many a wanted poster. His intentions were good, but his actions spoke otherwise.

But you had endured the same thing, powers endlessly thrust upon you like earth on a coffin. You despised your situation as he did, eyes on the horizon for any sort of way out of it. but you were still good. You kept your heart kind, your actions free of entanglement with personal bitterness toward what you could not control.

Nothing anybody said about you was true. You were a sweetheart, through and through. He was deserving of his reputation. You were not. Not in any form of the word.

You had every reason not to trust him. Not only was he an outlaw, he was a man, the exact species that had caused your misery. And yet you let him in, let him help you bear the burden of your title in what little ways he was able. Looking down at you resting in his arms, he felt stirrings of love expand his heart once more.

Your fingers were on his bare collarbone, tracing symbols onto it. He pressed gentle kisses to your hairline, hoping they would reaffirm his love for you, the safety he could maintain while you remained near him.

It was a heavy toll, the price you paid for magic. It was horribly undeserved. The least he could do to balance out the unfairness of the world was give you love. Something you clearly hadn't received for too long a time.

So, with that in mind, he rested his chin on your head, keeping you thoroughly burrowed into him, where it was safe. Fish wandered over and settled against your thigh soothingly. "Try 'n sleep, sweetheart. I'll keep the dreams away."

Knuckles collided with Billy's jaw, sending him flying backwards into a table. He struggled to stand, knees wobbling, but a force collided with him, knocking his body back and tumbling over the table. Wood splintered under his back, and he cursed the poor craftmanship. There'd be splinters in his back morning come.

Determinedly, Billy found his bearings and managed to stand. He dove at the man who'd caused his tumble, shouting obscenities. The man hadn't been expecting it, and the surprise attack gave Billy the upper hand. He pounded his fists against his face, beating him bloody until a bystander shoved him away, tossing him out of the saloon on his ass.

Spitting dirt, Billy stumbled to his feet and ducked into a nearby alley. The law would've likely been alerted by now and he was already on thin enough ice with that lot.

Somehow he managed to find his horse and ride off without being spotted. Trekking through the forest, he searched for the one place he knew he could go. The night was cold but clear, and your beloved stars gave him comfort even as his injuries stung. The moon was his light, guiding him to his one love, the only good thing he was next to possessing in this life.

"Think that bitch's got fight in 'er or would she let me take 'er?" the drunked man slurred, slamming his bottle on the table. "She's too lil' t' really bite back."

"She's got that innocent look in 'er eye." Another man grinned. "Look real pretty underneath ya."

"n' she's a witch," the first man laughed. "Y'know she'd be into some nasty shit-"

Knocking on your door, he winced as some of the blood from his knuckles stained the surface. But his worry over that was replaced by the disarming sight of you. Your eyes widened as you took in his damaged appearance.

Wordlessly, you pulled him in, sitting him down at your table and turning your back, busying yourself with finding the perfect remedy. Once you'd found that familiar paste you knelt and began to dab it on, not bothering to clean the wound. That could come after he was healed.

You looked up into his eyes. "What happened? How did you-?" Cutting yourself off, you reached for a bottle on the table that was uncorked. "Drink this."

He obeyed before answering your half question. "Bar fight."

"What on earth for?" Your brow was furrowed, and you were watching carefully as his knuckles smoothed over. Taking a wet cloth, you began to wipe the blood from his skin. "You haven't gotten into one before. At least not since I've been here."

Billy hesitated, and you noticed. He pursed his lips, looking away in shame. "They were...sayin' some things."

Warily because of his pause, you lifted your chin. Then you got up from your knees, quietly pushing his hands from his legs. Your knees found either side of Billy's thighs, and his hands instantly found your hips. You stared into his eyes, and he was pierced by your gaze. "Billy."

It could have been the magic in you, but Billy was sure it was a natural thing you possessed. That ability to draw anything from him you wanted to know. His lips were moving before he had a chance to think. "Honey...they were sayin'...sayin' awful things 'bout you..." Your face fell and he slowed down, the last few words following his first like a dog with its tail between its legs. "...'n I couldn't let them talk 'bout my girl...like...that." He finished lamely, avoiding your eyes.

Frozen, your lips parted slightly, and your hands fell from his shoulders to his thighs. He kept his hands on your waist, unsure if you'd slap them away. How angry would you be? He held his breath in anticipation.

To his shock you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face there and pressing a kiss to his skin. He was still for a second, and then he slid his arms all the way around you, holding you close and rubbing your back. He mumbled into your hair, "'M sorry...'m so sorry baby..."

You shook your head, drawing back to look at him. "Billy...I'm not worth it. Don't hurt yourself over me-"

"I'm not lettin' anybody talk 'bout my girl like that," he interrupted firmly, his hand stroking your cheek. "'specially after what ya told me 'bout everything. 'm sorry for upsettin' ya, 'n for comin' here so late, but I ain't sorry 'bout defendin' ya."

Something changed in your expression, and you breathed softly, leaning in to kiss him tenderly. Billy nudged his nose against yours, deepening the kiss and holding you close and tight to him.

"Honey," he muttered after you pulled back. "'m always gonna protect ya. I told you that."

"Don't get hurt for me anymore," you sniffled, leaning your forehead against his. "Please."

Billy couldn't deny you anything. Not even this, which went against his nature. Forever and always, he was a defender of those he loved. "I won't, sweet girl. For you, I won't."

Nodding, you framed his face with your hands, closing your eyes. He caught wind of what you were about to do and pulled you right up against him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You smiled lightly and started to whisper something. He recognized the spell, muttered in French. It was one you had used with him many a time before.

The air began to glow, and he closed his eyes, staying quiet. Your words, though not understood by him, were soft and comforting. There was a bright light in your unlit cottage stemming from you. Billy felt a warmth in his chest just as he did every time you did this. The magic warmed him inside and out, holding him to the earth like only something connected to you could.

Once you'd finished, he kissed your forehead long and tender, lips parting against your head and holding there. Billy murmured against your skin, "Thank you, baby."

The light had nearly faded, but the calm your magic gave him remained. You performed this spell nearly every time you saw him, taking the emotional weight off his shoulders he'd carried nearly his entire life.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then suddenly he caught wind of something over your shoulder, in the window. Billy's body stiffened, and his arms tightened around you. "Darlin'-"

The door burst open, a man storming in. He took one look at you and Billy and shouted behind him, "They're here! Him and the witch."

A crowd of around ten men overtook the room before Billy knew it, disturbing your furniture and knocking bottles to the floor. He heard the smash of broken glass, the splash of your potions hitting the floor.

Arms firm around you, keeping you tight to his chest with your head in his shoulder, he asked roughly, "The hell is going on here?" You made a little noise, shifting in his lap, and he moved one hand to the crown of your head, holding your head to his neck.

"We'll be takin' the witch," the closest man hissed, holding his pistol up, pointed at the back of your head. "Saw your little light show."

They'd followed him. Billy cursed himself for not being more careful. He shook his head, arms tightening around you if it was even possible. "She ain't done anythin' wrong."

"She's a witch." Billy hated how the man said it like it was dirty. "That's reason enough."

Two cowboys pushed forward, yanking you from Billy's arms and pulling you from his lap. Before he could jump up, a revolver was pressed to his forehead and faintly he saw a hand squeeze the trigger.

"No!" You screamed, and there was a loud noise, a burst of light more intense than before. A few of the men shouted, and the man holding the gun in front of Billy collapsed, leaving his view of you clear. His eyes widened, and he could see the terror and guilt on your face.

Quickly trying to remedy the incident as he watched your face crumple, he called, "It's okay! It's okay, sweet girl."

Your chest was heaving and the men surrounding you dragged you away despite your cries, their positions on your magic solidified after seeing you hurt one of their own. Accident or not, they now believed themselves justified.

Billy was restrained by the man who'd tried to shoot him as they carried you far past the bounds of your home. He could hear your crying and it made his heart ache. Struggling, he tried to stand and run after you but the man was determined.

It was only once the hoofbeats of horses outside had vanished that they let go. He got to his feet immediately, but his detainer punched him in the eye, making him fall like a pile of bricks.

He lay there limply, the pain literally blinding. There were sounds of boots stomping away, and he felt agony strike his chest. You were gone. Taken to a fate he felt sick imagining.

Billy felt adrenaline and anger pulse through his body, and he scrambled to his feet, picking up his hat that had been knocked off his head earlier. His legs took him to his horse, and he threw himself over it, kicking the creature into a gallop. It was halfway through the night.

By sunrise you'd be gone if he didn't hurry.

You shouldn't have been so careless.

With Billy, your guard had been down, and you loved him truly for making you feel that safe. But in his presence, you'd forgotten the world's hatred for those of your kind.

The spell you'd performed was harmless, one that gave your lover some peace of mind. It was the least you could do for all he'd given you. Though he insisted feelings weren't payment, you disagreed. Love had no debts.

Even though you hadn't hurt Billy, you had hurt the man pointing a gun at him. Guilt and pain ate you up inside, worries overtaking you. Was he okay? Had he been able to get away?

Your heart pounded a bruise into your chest. There were noises outside your cell, and you folded your arms tightly around yourself. They'd nearly shredded your dress. It was in tatters around your body where the men had torn at it, searching for any sign of magic on you. They found nothing.

The door clanged open, and a man knelt beside you, pushing you to sit up against the wall. He held a length of rope, wrapping it roughly around your arms. You whimpered as the course material scorched your arms.

He glared at you. "You'll be burnt at sunrise. Considered hanging but then the witchcraft'd still be in your body."

Eyes widening, you shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. "No...no, please. Please don't do this."

But his eyes were unforgiving. Shoving you to lie on the ground again, he stood, shadow looming and making you feel even more pathetic. "See ya at dawn."

And with that he left.

You sobbed helplessly, twisting in the binds of the ropes and struggling to get free. But the man's knots had been firm, and now you suffered for it.

Hours slid from under your feet. You closed your eyes, resting your head heavily against the stone floor. And now you wished Billy had never pulled you out of the pond. Drowning would be a less cruel fate.

Tearfully, you thought of Billy. Of the love and light he'd bestowed upon you, a beautiful thing you hadn't ever thought yourself worthy of. It was a shame you'd never gotten to live a normal life with him. So many times since meeting him had you dreamed of blissful domesticity. And now there wasn't even a prayer of such a thing.

Your dreams died slowly before your eyes, and you mourned even the ones that you'd known wouldn't have come true anyway. Love was loss. It had only ever been loss for you. Any trace of hope in your veins had been sucked out by the rope that would now bind you until your death.

He had never shamed you, never cast you out. Instead, he had embraced your difference and shown you there was a facet of the world that wasn't cruel. Now you were setting him free from any obligation of you.

It was enough for you to know that as you closed your eyes, lying weakly on the stone. All the fight had left you, and you could feel your magic pulsing faintly, begging to be used, to be needed.

But you never wanted to use it again. Not after you knew you could hurt someone. Of course you'd always known it was possible, but never had you known yourself capable of it. No, you'd rather die than injure another living soul.

The door swung open again. Hours must have passed, because through the cell window you could faintly see the sun beginning to stretch forth its rosy fingers. Your hair was strewn over your face, and you were grateful at least that the rope covered what your poor dress couldn't.

Two pairs of arms lifted you up, dragging your tired body through the halls of the jail. There were whispers around you, but you paid no mind, trying to numb yourself to everything. The world was blurry to you. With any luck, before your murder, it would be black.

Your mind swayed back and forth like a rocking ship, and you thought aimlessly of the sea. Your home. You never wanted to go back to it, but now the details of it were comforting. The tide, the waves, the sand. It was something you wanted to stay a memory, but that memory was stowed safely in your heart next to everything pertaining to Billy.

The men grew tired of dragging you, and one of them tossed you over his shoulder like a bag of flour. His steps were heavy, jostling you carelessly. Of course, you were less than human to them. What did they care for your comfort?

Now you were outside, and the fresh air stung your senses. You breathed in softly, your hair fallen over your face as you hung upside down. Dust travelled into your lungs, and you coughed pathetically. The man carrying you laughed.

Death was waiting at the end of this path. You could feel it up ahead like a light at the end of the tunnel. By the time the sun hit the sky's middle you would be long gone from this world.

The man stopped walking, interrupting your train of thought. You squeezed your legs together to try and maintain some modesty. There were a few groans around you, and you wondered briefly if something had gone wrong with the setup for your execution. The one carrying you said something you couldn't hear, and then you were falling sideways, earth tilting on its axis. You didn't know you were falling until someone caught you, shoving the other man away.

Now a course, but gentle hand was smoothing your hair, whispering something you didn't make out. You squeezed your eyes shut; sure you were dreaming.

When you dug your face into Billy's chest you knew he was real. He let out a soft, lightened noise, his words becoming clearer to you. "...honey. I've gotcha. C'mon, we're gettin' outta here."

He was running now, and you could make out shadows. Everything was blurry except for the pain of your magic. It pounded against your head, and you cried softly into Billy's chest, trying to breathe and alleviate it.

His voice rumbled against you. "Shh, I know, sweet girl. I know."

"I need...my lavender," you hiccupped, gripping the collar of his shirt.

"We'll find ya some," he promised, fingers making quick work of untying your ropes. They fell from around you, and you heard him take in a breath at the state of your dress. He put something over your shoulders, sliding your arms through sleeves, and then you felt yourself being lifted up. Fur met your legs. Billy's horse.

The ride was a mess of pained whimpers and bumpy movement. Billy did his best to comfort you but it was just so painful, all of it.

He held you close, assuring you with every step. Once you reached the apparent destination, Billy pulled you down, settling you against the grass. Reaching over, he plucked something from the ground and held it up to your lips. You inhaled gently before opening your mouth. Lavender.

The plant revived you enough to look up at your lover, who was breathing fast, anxiously watching you. He squeezed your hand. "Darlin'...sweetheart...how're ya feelin'?"

You looked up at him. Highlighted by the sun's newborn rays, he was angelic. You would have fallen to your knees if you weren't on the ground already. Here he had ridden time and tide for you, yanked you from the path of death and uncaged your love. Now you were splayed out in the light, softened by his touch.

How long had you been unworthy? How long had you deemed yourself terrible? But he had saved you. Billy, the one facet of good in your life, had seen you fit to survive. He defended you. He carried you beyond the bounds of your self-worth. Oh, how he loved you.

Looking up at him, you managed the faintest of smiles, pressing your cheek to his chest.

"Yes."

Billy was shielding the leftover sun from the day, reflecting it from his eyes. He squinted at you, kneeling several feet away from him. "Everythin' alright?"

You nodded; breaths faint. He could see the panic in your eyes, but you didn't let it show anywhere else as you pressed your palms to the grass. The open field was perfect for your intentions, you'd assured him.

It was a hard decision. You had cried and pleaded with your tired body, trying to make it last. Nightmares tormented your unconscious mind; your magic grew heavier by the day. Billy helped as much as he was able, but it couldn't be denied that your quality of life was diminishing.

It was a risk. He knew that. But more than being aware of the consequences, he was confident in the goodness of your soul. Never had he met someone whose light shone so bright from within.

Somewhere in his heart he instinctively bore the knowledge that you were pure. The origins of your magic were unknown, but he was certain that if it was evil in the majority you wouldn't be as kind as you were. He shared that with you over and over until you had no choice but to believe it.

So now, here he was, standing helplessly as you tapped into the most vulnerable crooks of your body, the ones magic and witchcraft occupied. You'd insisted he stay back in case something went wrong.

Bowing your head, your hair fell in front of your face. He could hear a muttered incantation from where he stood. Your fingers clenched the grass, knuckles whitening.

He longed to run to you, but he didn't want to ruin the process and make something go worse than it already could. The situation was precarious enough.

Billy watched as a light shimmered through your body, palpitating against your skin and making you shiver. The sky was turning grey as storm clouds feathered the air.

You were crying- he could hear it. Now your body was shaking, tremors seizing you as you somehow kept your hands flat to the ground. Billy's heart pained for you, and he watched with wide eyes as a bright star seemed to glow from within you.

Your head tilted back, and something seemed to snap. Eyes snapping open, you gasped loudly, and fell backwards, staring at the sky.

The earth was quiet. The clouds were still. You were no longer glowing.

Billy hesitated before moving. He had no idea if you were still in the process. But now you were sitting up, flexing your fingers in front of yourself with eyes as round as the moon.

A joyful smile like sunshine spread across your face, and you exclaimed happily. Getting to your feet hurriedly, you ran like a deer to him, stumbling a little in excitement. Before he could react, you were throwing yourself at him, arms and legs wrapped tightly around his torso.

Laughing a little, he buried his nose in your hair. "Did it...did it...?"

"It worked!" You pulled back, then touched your forehead to his. "Billy it worked! It worked, the magic was good...I'm free!"

He spun you around, making you giggle in delight. "'Course it was, baby! You're better than anyone else."

You kissed his nose. "Billy..."

Grinning, he nodded. "I know, I know."

Leaning in, he kissed you tenderly, moving his lips against you like it was what he was created to do. There were happy tears on your cheeks, and he thumbed them away, holding you tightly to him.

Pulling back slightly, you nudged your nose against him. "You showed me...you loved me when it wasn't for the better. You rescued me in every possible way..."

"It's all worth it," he breathed, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth again. "You...you, my love, are worth every step. Don't know how I ever came 'cross such a sweetheart."

"I needed you," you whispered, smiling brightly. Oh, he'd been too right about your draw. Magic hadn't had anything to do with it. The gravity encased within your soul was all you. "The past was my charge to carry before, but it's faded with my magic." You kissed his nose. "The future is you. Everything that matters is you."

"My love," he smiled, capturing your lips again. "My darlin'..." Billy took one of your hands from his neck and pressed it to his heart. "It's yours. It always has been."

You kissed him soundly until the moon rose over the river, the night bringing promises of love no longer lost.

No, now it was only found. You found each other, a magic that had nothing to do with what you'd just given up connecting your souls.

Previous part

[corroded-hellfire]

Prompt Day 14: And the Winner Is...

Word Count: 1000

Rating: T

Pairing: Hellcheer

CW: Language

Summary: It's time for a new generation to take on the talent show at Hawkins Middle School

Song is Mr. Brightside by The Killers

@corrodedcoffinfest

The auditorium at Hawkins Middle looks smaller than Eddie remembered it as he and Chrissy step inside. Though, he had been smaller the last time that he was here for his own talent show in the eighth grade. 

“We are not sitting front and center,” Chrissy says to Eddie, shaking her head. “I won’t do to her what my mom did to me. Stressed the hell out of me to see her there.”

“I remember Wayne sat over here,” Eddie responds, nodding his head towards the right of the auditorium. That night sticks out in Eddie’s mind for a few reasons, but one of the best was seeing the proud smile on Wayne’s face after the original Corroded Coffin’s very first performance. 

“Here is good,” Chrissy agrees, and the two of them take seats right of center, a few rows back. 

The auditorium hasn’t changed much since Eddie went here, a fact he learns as he looks around the smaller-than-remembered space. But something does catch his eye that makes him smile. He taps his wife’s shoulder twice and points up to the catwalk where the two of them bumped into one another over twenty years ago. 

“Think Em is up there looking for us?” Eddie asks.

Chrissy laughs. “I can’t see her dragging her precious darling up there with her. And I doubt she’s going to let it leave her sight.”

Emily Munson’s new purple guitar is the light of her life. Eddie thinks she might even love it more than he loved his Sweetheart back in the day. Honestly, he’s surprised he hasn’t looked into Em’s room and seen the guitar tucked in bed next to her while she sleeps. 

“Her precious darling has a name,” Eddie teases. 

“I am not calling that thing ‘Cobain.’”

“Says the woman who named her car,” Eddie goads.

Chrissy pouts and looks up at her husband.

“Don’t bring Roxy into this.”

Eddie laughs and wraps his arm around his wife’s shoulders. 

The lights in the auditorium dim and the principal steps onstage.

“Welcome to the 2004 Hawkins Middle School talent show! I am Principal Newman and I’m so glad that you could join us this evening to witness the extraordinary talent our students have.”

The first few acts are entertaining enough—for a middle school show. Everyone in the audience knows they’re really sitting through everything else until the student they came here for is on. Finally, that time arrives for the Munson’s. 

“Please put your hands together for Guitarfly!”

Matching proud grins grace both Eddie and Chrissy’s faces as the curtains part to reveal their daughter and three of her friends.

Emily stands at the microphone, Cobain ready to go as she adjusts the strap over her shoulder. The young Munson’s dark curly bangs are held to each side by a glittery butterfly clip and a touch of eyeliner makes her blue eyes pop—makeup and eye color both courtesy of mom. Emily is wearing a black Corroded Coffin shirt that’s been cut and altered to hang off the shoulders of her small frame. Her denim skirt is layered over cropped red leggings, trimmed with lace at mid-calf. Her black high tops complete the look as she takes her place center stage. 

The drummer counts them off and Emily licks over her lips right before she puts her pick to the strings and leans in towards the microphone. 

Comin' out of my cage and I've been doin' just fine

Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

Eddie watches his daughter in awe. He knows he never looked half as cool as she does on that stage. Pride threatens to choke the emotional father as he sees she’s having an absolute ball. 

Jealousy

Turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibi

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

He didn’t care that no other act got a standing ovation, when the song ends, Eddie jumps up and applauds. So is everyone else in the auditorium, but his cheering means the most to the teen girl behind the microphone. 

After the final acts, the judges—a teacher, assistant principal, and a lunch lady—converge to discuss the results. 

Eddie knows it’s just a middle school talent show, but he wants this for his daughter so badly. If the judges couldn’t see how talented Emily and her friends are, then Eddie thinks they need to get some sense knocked into them. 

Once the results are in, Principal Newman comes back onstage with the name of the winners on an index card. Eddie slips his hand into Chrissy’s, and she can’t help but smile to herself at how nervous he is for their daughter. The epitome of a doting father if there ever was one. 

“And the winner is…Guitarfly!”

Eddie’s ass is out of his seat before the principal can even finish saying the name of the band.

“That’s my girl!” Eddie cheers.

Emily takes the trophy from the assistant principal and looks over to her parents in the crowd. The louder Eddie applauds, the redder her face becomes. She gives them a small wave before she and her friends lift the trophy up in the air. There’s another smattering of applause and Principal Newman thanks everyone for coming. 

Still grinning from ear to ear, Eddie turns to Chrissy as they stand up and move to leave the auditorium. 

“How did we get the coolest daughter ever?” Eddie asks as he holds the door open for his wife.

“Because she has the coolest parents ever,” Chrissy answers. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie says and slings an arm around her shoulders as they make their way towards the exit. “A rockstar and a cheerleader? There was no way this kid wasn’t going to be fucking awesome.”

[theyilinglaozus]

Big day for western danmei fans today! Seven Seas entertainment has announced the licensing of twelve new danmei translations coming soon! They are:

Mistakenly Saving the Villain, by Feng Yu Nie

Thrice Married to a Salted Fish, by Bi Ka Bi

My Husband and I Sleep in a Coffin, by Wu Shui Bu Du

The Unseen Immortal of Three Hundred Years, Mu Su Li

There's Something Wrong With The Chief: Du Zhu You Bing, by Yang Su

After the Disabled God of War Became my Concubine, by Liu Gou Hua

The Wife Comes First: Qi We Shang, by Lv Ye Qian He

The Villain's White Halo, by Hao Da Yi Juan Wei Sheng Zhi

The White Cat's Divine Scratching Post, by Lv Ye Qian He

Astrolabe Rebirth, by Arise Zhang, also known as Fei Tian Ye Xiang (非天夜翔)

The Disabled Tyrant’s Beloved Pet Fish: Canji Baojun De Zhangxin Yu Chong (Novel) Vol. 4 (Special Edition), by Xue Shan Fei Hu

Copper Coins: Tong Qian Kan Shi (Novel), by Mu Su Li

Check the official announcement for information on special editions, ebook editions and prices for the US!

[reve-de-sang]

continued from here, in which Lestat and Louis face an arranged marriage so that Claudia can be born as foretold and save everyone's ass.

Lestat is presented an infant onesie for his future theoretical daughter and accidentally laughs in Florence de Pointe du Lac's face. No one appreciates his existential crisis.

--

Lestat, of course, had ruined it all by laughing.

Not right away. No, not right off the bat.

The morning after the delegates’ introductions, when the Europeans had relocated to the estate they had procured for their visit, Marius had called them into his new office for an emergency meeting despite everyone’s fatigue.

(Marius was still ridiculous in his decor choices, Lestat observed. Who needed an actual giant globe in 2024?)

Pandora, who had been able to stand back and observe at last night's introductions, led with her impressions of the event—an assessment of the miasma of thoughts in the room. To lay most of the blame where it was due, David had originally been the one to accidentally prime the proceedings for derailment. The North American delegation, already prickly about the whole endeavor, had been affronted during David’s preliminary visit by the liberties he took in acting as if the European vampires were in charge of this joint venture.

And the de Pointe du Lac family were already unhappy about marrying off their scion to an unknown foreigner as a sacrifice to prevent some theoretical threat. David’s deafness to their anxieties had offended them. Louis had been offended by the man’s pompousness, his old school unexamined casual racism, and David’s inability to totally mentally conceal his thoughts of appreciation for Louis’s physique.

(Regarding the latter, Armand had sympathized that David was only human, and it would take a far more mentally powerful vampire to obscure lustful thoughts about de Pointe du Lac—it was a real concern. Lestat demanded they all show a little respect toward his husband—but my god, wasn’t he ethereal? Pandora hushed them with an exhaustion that seemed to come from deep within her soul.)

And then this arrogant chiseled blue-eyed blond Frenchman had sailed in and looked at their scion like his sole mission in life was to defile Louis as quickly and thoroughly as possible. The Americans had actually braced for him to start disrobing at any moment. (Armand offered that that was, in fact, the purpose of Lestat’s role in this endeavor. Marius glowered.)

Lestat had then proceeded to offend their matriarch by laughing at her.

David was terribly embarrassed and stammered his apologies, but the immediate ire in the room swung to Lestat for administering the final blow.

“I am far too tired to defend myself at this trial,” Lestat groaned, knuckling an eye. “It was a nervous reflex! I know our joint purpose here is to usher in a future queen, but I was unprepared to be presented an infant onesie.”

“She had personally hand-knit it. Cashmere.”

Lestat buried his face in his hands. “You know I can make this right. Please just let me sleep.” Lestat threw down his hands in his lap. “And never use David as a diplomat again!” He turned to David, “I love you, but you must know you are better suited to academia. You have failed me as a wingman.”

David conceded the point with a wince. “My apologies.”

“We’ll reconvene this evening,” Marius said, rubbing the bridge of his nose indicating a stress headache Lestat was fairly certain he was not physiologically capable of having.

—

The next evening Lestat lingered in his coffin after sunset, staring up at the silk lining invisible to him in the utter blackness. Lestat was not one to cringe from gaffes. He didn’t dwell. Lestat was a man of action.

Still, he was going to need a moment for this one.

Lestat had walked into a powder keg, ignorant their mission was on life support, and had vaporized the last of the good will with a reflexive peal of laughter when Florence de Pointe du Lac presented him the dainty white hand knit onesie she had crafted for her granddaughter.

The temperature in the de Pointe du Lac household had plummeted to temperatures as yet unrecorded by science by the time the European delegates left that morning, so Lestat may well be still recovering from frostbite.

Lestat had found Louis’s escalation from irritated to hostile staggeringly alluring, while at the same time Lestat’s heart had plummeted in his chest. Louis certainly inspired intense strange new combinations of emotions in him.

But honestly. It had been two hours from sunrise on a night unnaturally stretched six hours longer than usual, given the time difference! And the stress of the night had been enormous!

He had been standing next to the most beautiful man he’d ever seen.

A man vampires the world over were all waiting impatiently for him to have so much sex with as soon as possible!

And suddenly there had been this impossibly tiny physical reminder that he and Louis were going to create a nascent person out of their DNA, and Lestat was going to push her out of a very new and completely untested hole in his body, and that person would probably hate him as much as he’d hated his father, and then probably 20 years later she was supposed to put her life in danger as if Lestat’s daughter’s life was somehow less important than all these other chickenshit vampires who couldn’t hold their own against some furious vampire queen.

It had snuck up on him.

And so he had laughed uproariously, terror in his heart.

—

The delegation gave him the dignity of half an hour to mope that evening—hopefully strategize, but probably mope—and then Armand rapped on the lid of his coffin.

“You’re so lucky you’re pretty. Guess who’s inviting you out to dinner at an exclusive New Orleans vampire club slash speakeasy?”

Lestat pressed his palms over his face as a huge wash of relief hit him, once again surprising himself with yet another sudden strong emotion in less than 24 hours. He furiously willed the blood tears away.

«Why, it must be Florence de Pointe du Lac, non? She struck me as the warm, gracious, forgiving type.»

“I am absolutely ready to go on this date with Louis in your stead at a moment’s notice. I’ll give him your apologies.”

Lestat sighed. «Get me the Gaultier. No—» Lestat sighed again, more profoundly. «The conservative Tom Ford. I can be subtle when the occasion calls for it.»

“Honestly, you might as well dress like you’re here to procreate. Play into your strengths.”

Lestat pushed his coffin open, glaring as he climbed out. “I am more than my genitals and destiny, Armand. And aren’t you supposed to be here for support?”

“My power dictates my presence. And also Marius gets horny when he’s stressed.” Armand’s ass was perched on the edge of the vanity, a tall glass of fresh blood for Lestat next to him on the highly polished wood. “But most of all you’ve been assigned to save society by getting knocked up by a beautiful man who’d rather cut your throat—I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

He offered the glass to Lestat. “Drink this fast. You have to be there in 45 minutes.”

Lestat did not set Armand on fire in Lestat’s first act of being subtle.