#Who comes with him in that world? A friend? An ally?.... An enemy?

[phoenixcatch7]

I may have gotten the idea from 'dost thou even steal hearts?' but I think it would be a pretty good start to a story with the system destabilising - issues with loading the epilogue? Sqq gets a particularly large cloud of pollen to the face and it promptly wigs out because too many entities have been loaded? Randomly one day Just Because??

So the system decides to run a virus sweep or an optimiser or straight up prepares to crash, so to get the souls out of the way it transfers people to different dimensions - there's enough dimensions so it's pretty much one each so as not to destabilise the other stories.

Everyone in svsss gets booted out. EVERYONE. (everyone named and alive at least) And they get reborn. Scattered across worlds, for one lifetime until the system resets and reinforces the whole dimension.

Shen qingqiu thinks he's alone in this world. He's not.

[dalekofchaos]

AU Asami is Amon by nikoniko_808

Give me the forbidden enemies to lovers Korrasami

Okay I wrote up my own au of Asami as Amon

Hiroshi and Asami witnessed the death of Asami’s mother at the hands of the Red Lotus society. Asami swore revenge on all benders. The corruption of Benders has gone too far and Asami and her father cannot let it continue. So they create a movement. The Equalists. Near the end of season 1. Asami would be nowhere to be seen. The Krew believes the Equalists have kidnapped Asami and when Korra confronts Amon, they don’t see her.

Tarrlok is still captured by Amon, when Korra sees him and they chat, he tells the whole story of Amon as it happened in the show to her and everything. Like it goes in the show. Korra and friends go to confront Amon at the arena where Tenzin and his family are about to lose their bending. But they don’t because she gets there in time. She accuses Amon of being a bender, as per Tarrlok’s story. Amon doesn’t unmask. And he isn’t a bender. Tarrlok lied to get Korra to confront Amon so that he could capture her and he could hopefully save his own skin for the service at least. They fight. Amon takes Korra’s bending in a big demonstrative way. So all the crowd can see what comes to any benders, especially The Avatar who stand against him. Then the reveal happens. Asami is Amon.

In order to get her bending back and learn how to give others their bending back (yeah, Korra wouldn’t get it back at the end of Book 1 because consequences? What’re those?), Korra has to go on a quest to learn her bending(her masters would be Toph, Katara, Izumi and Tenzin) in the Spirit World to understand everything. Korra does not cry about loosing her bending because she realized she’s still The Avatar and has to go to The Spirit World to get her bending back, to help everyone get their bending back and stop Asami

Throughout the series, we would meet Kya, Bumi, Izumi, Eska, Desna(Eska and Desna would be Korra’s siblings in this universe, because fuck Unaloq) Opal and Kai. We have the same romance between Bolin and Opal and Jinora and Kai. We would also meet Varrick and Zhu Li, because they are comedy gold. They would all help in the fight against Amon and the Equalists.

In Korra’s venture to the Spirit World,

she would still see Wan’s story(because that’s the only thing I liked about Book 2) and I think in her journey in the spirit world she would see Asami’s story, in which her family were victims of the Red Lotus society and Asami learned to take bending away in the spirit world. Not only that, we would find out that Asami would be bonded with Vaatu. Asami is the darker Avatar.

Before she leaves The Spirit World she connects with all her past lives to ask what she should do about Asami. Korra has her Aang moment where she has too has to decide what to do like he did with the fire lord, only this time there’s more to it than just stopping the bad guy. It’s about the person she loved. She can restore everyone’s bending by reversing Amon’s convergence, but she can’t do that so long as the avatar spirit is split. And as long as Asami is part avatar, she can go into the avatar state. That’s still pretty damn dangerous even with only water and blood bending. Korra realizes the only thing she can do to stop Asami? Love her.

After her journey to relearn her bending and journey in the spirit world, Korra travels the world to gain allies. From the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribes and Air Nomads. Korra unites the world against Amon and the Equalists.

In the final fight, Korra defeats Amon. She exorcises Vaatu from Asami, thus ending the dark Avatar and stopping Amon’s convergence. She reverses what Asami has done and uses it to restore everyone’s bending. So she has to come to the hard part. Amon makes it clear, no matter what, even without the ability to energy bend or without Vaatu, Amon will never stop, Benders will never be safe. Korra shows Asami what she was denied. Korra loves her and forgives her. Asami gives up and accepts whatever punishment.

During Book 3, Asami would work with Korra in stopping and killing the Red Lotus society. However, when Zaheer is stopped. He is left at the mercy of Asami and for everything he’s done and turned her into. Asami kills him.

Book 4 happens. Asami’s redemption is rebuilding Republic City and using Future Industries to repair the damage she’s done as Amon. Blah blah blah Korra stops Kuvira blah blah. Asami earns her redemption and the love of Republic City, the krew and more importantly Korra. Ends with Korra and Asami venturing in the Spirit World and ends with a kiss.

[strawberry-halla]

something so amazing about solas is that he is very good at predicting his enemies and his allies moves. he’s always thinking 5 steps ahead, even varric says this. (long post incoming!)

but when it comes to lavellan, he could never predict her. when he first meets her, solas thinks she’s just another dalish elf that is unwilling to listen to his advice. nope turns out she can be willing and not only that but asks him about what he knows so she can better understand the fade/spirits/ancient elves.

and then the haven dream kiss! she’s the one who initiates and solas is once again thrown off guard because he never expected that. and then he just gives into it with so much passion and fade tongue.

in all new, faded for her, solas is once again surprised lavellan agrees with his plan to free his friend, the spirit of wisdom. because nobody in the entire inquisition (except cole) would be down for this?? like all the world knows about spirits is that they don’t ever come in contact with people unless very rarely. they’re an enigma, something to be feared even because they can become demons. but nah lavellan is like ‘yep sounds good let’s go save your friend!’

and solas after this tries to rationalize lavellan’s bizarre behavior as something the anchor changed about her. because he has always known how to read people. he can’t understand her. he thinks her ‘spirit’ has changed due to magic’s influence.

but no, lavellan surprises once again by pointing out that her choices are her own or that if the anchor did change her, wouldn’t she notice? like no wonder solas is so fucking down bad. lavellan subverts everything he thought about the modern people, not just exclusively elves. she’s constantly showing him new points of view and challenging his whole mission. and so the cracks start to form.

“you show a wisdom i haven’t seen since…*pause* my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the fade.”

“your mind, your morals, your… *pause* spirit.”

“it would be kinder in the long run. but losing you would- *cuts himself off*”

and then if lavellan drinks from the well, this conversation and the previous quest itself (what pride had wrought) just cracks solas wide open (even if she didn’t drink). he’s visibly upset because he’s afraid the well will change lavellan and he knows first hand what it’s like to do everything for someone who made the wrong choices! so solas asks what she would do with the power of the well and he’s ONCE AGAIN thrown off guard by her answer. i really like the “help the world move forward” option because it almost aligns with solas’s plan but it doesn’t.

s: “you would risk everything you have in the hope the future is better? what if it isn’t? what if you wake up to find the future you shaped is worse than what it was?”

l: “i’ll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again.”

s: “just like that?”

l: “if we don’t keep trying, we’ll never get it right.”

you’d think this would be an affirmation that solas’s plan is right, but it’s not. lavellan is wanting to fix things now and shape a better future with the well’s power. it’s eerily similar, but once again a path solas didn’t consider. she surprises once more. using the wisdom from the well to help, rather than command. sound familiar? this conversation just solidifies solas’s want. to be himself and to be solas, not fen’harel, with lavellan.

so he takes her to crestwood. somewhere intimate and quiet just for the two of them. a place where the veil is thinnest because it’s easy for spirits to cross and be comfortable. solas is going to tell lavellan the truth. he’s going to abandon his plan. but then solas gets in his own head. he fights with the possibility of her rejecting him because why wouldn’t she? he’s the very god in her culture that ruined everything. what if lavellan sees him for the monster history painted him? and then he realizes why he even wanted to tear down the veil. to avenge his oldest friend and right the wrongs he did to the elves. and it all comes crashing down in not even a second.

“then what i must tell you… *pause* …the truth.”

solas backpedals so fucking hard. the reality of everything just hits him. so he quickly redirects to the vallaslin topic because it’s familiar as he looks down at lavellan’s face and sees the markings of the very gods he locked away.

remove the vallaslin or not solas still loves her no matter what. and the sad option is still my favorite here because once again solas is slipping.

s: “you have a rare and marvelous spirit. in another world-“

l: “why not this one?”

and then at the end of veilguard, lavellan does one more thing solas doesn’t expect. after hurting her, betraying her, leaving her alone without any answers, killing one of her friends, and almost succeeding in his plan, she forgives him. lavellan abandons thedas and everything she knew to be with him. to the very end, she is subverting his tragic expectations.

“this journey is not yours alone. we make it together, always.”

[raticalshoez]

I just feel the need to get this out there because this has been sitting in my Google Docs brainrot document:

I will always believe that Scar is the saddest, most tragic Life Series character.

I'm unsure whether this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I feel like if I were to ask people who they think the most tragic member is they might say Grian, or Martyn, or Jimmy simply because of #lore implications, but when I'm bored I like to reflect on the Life Series characters and...like...

3rd Life had Grian indebted to Scar, creating a narrative based around loyalty that inevitably had to end in tragedy when they were the last two standing, neither one of them wanting to be to one to lead to the dekise of the other. Everyone knows the origin story of Desert Duo, come on now. I'd argue this is one of Scar's less tragic seasons though because throughout the entire thing, he had the unfaltering loyalty of a person, and that loyalty didn't waver on his end either. One might be tempted to bring up the Bdubs friendship pass, but that was all part of a plan Scar formulated, and Grian just never happened to see the secret message sent to him. All in all, a story of companionship that's only tragic towards the end.

Then, Last Life comes, and he is lonely. People are really quick to point to Joel for being lonely this season, but if anything, I'd describe Joel as manic over just lonely. This whole season, Scar tries to make friends after losing his only one to the curse of a red life. Time and time again he's seen trying to help people, he acts as a life dispenser, and at every turn he us either dismissed and never truly seen as an ally, or he faces death, whether by natural causes or by the hand of another player. In fact, instead of making friends, he seems to make a sworn enemy out of Team BEST. This season is really what kickstarts Scar's progression into being one of the staples of Lonely Characters ™️ of the Life Series, for even his final death is practically alone, with no happy reunions with allies, and no boos from any sworn enemies either.

I could argue this is another case of Scar being faced with lonliness because his once closely knit ally in Grian, has now shown scorn for their new fated bond. Scar is left behind as Grian goes to be with BigB, and out of them two, BigB has the guilt to tell Ren the whole secret soulmate ordeal, but Grian keeps his mouth shut. Scar finds out about the whole situation on his own, bitterly offering gifts for Grian to give, and hanging out with Pearl, the girl who is quite literally the commonly accepted poster child for all aspects of loneliness depicted in the Life Series. In this series, I think Scar gets some sort of closure in Grian and him working together again towards the end of the season, but even so, the two of them die apart, in a way symbolizing the disconnect they had all season long.

Limited Life is quite possibly Scar's happiest season, and therefore I don't really have anything to say about it. I think to some degree, everyone in the Life Series has the ability to be an asshole, and I think every single character is morally grey, and with all that being said I think the person Scar needed most was Cleo. Sure, they enable him to be as chaotic as possible, and yeah, being around Ckeo thus season quite possibly made Scar the snarkiest he's been, but the connection he had with her, and just the Clockers overall was so strong. Yes, there's the whole Etho dad thing, and you could argue that's another tally for Scar's abandonment board, but really, that whole bit has always been more comedic to me than it has been entirely dramatic or angsty.

And everyone knows Secret Life. Once again, Scar finds himself in the role of the lonely merchant, running a shop solo, and constantly trying to make friends, but there is always something stopping him from doing so because something in this world HATES him. Scar doesn't make friends, no, in fact, the Secret Keeper screws him over so much that by the end of this season he is literally embracing the role of a villain. He goes on a killing spree, more successful than he's ever done before, and he finds himself face to face with Pearl, who wants him to take her life. He calls it lame, and not fair because if Pearl's good at the game, she should own it and between me and you personally, I think Scar's just got a soft spot for a fair fight between the last two standing. I think the saddest part of Secret Life is the lack of closure Scar gets because he is the only winner that doesn't get to die and meet in this sort of afterlife where everyone reunites and talks like friends again, as if they all hadn't caused each others' demise. Scar doesn't get that, and is instead stuck in, at least in Martyn's interpretation, an endless loop of pressing that succeed button over and over as he goes mad.

This is a ridiculously long post, but I just NEEDED to get it out of my system. I feel like people could argue the curse of having allies is more tragic because you have to witness their deaths, or you can make the argument that maybe trying to fund the most tragic Life Series character is redundant because with how this game is, everyone is bound to be tragic either way, and to which I say true. I just feel like in a game where it's so natural for people to split up into groups of 3, 4, sometimes even 5, Scar's a character that has ended up alone so many times. It's honestly quite insane. I will always say that Pearl and Joel are the lonely dog girl and lonely dog boy of the series, but if there was ever just...the Lonliest, that title would probably go to Scar.

[merwgue]

Why Feyre as High Lady Could Lead to the Night Court's Downfall (Or, How to Ruin a Court in 10 Easy Steps) comming from someone who is planning to study international relations and whos whole family is quite familiar with it:

Look, we all love Feyre. She's fierce, she's brave, and she can paint a mean flower. But let's be real: as High Lady of the Night Court, she's a Fucking diplomatic nightmare. If there were an award for "How to Piss Off Every High Lord and Their Neighboring Courts," she'd win it. Twice. Here's why Feyre's reign might just bring the Night Court crashing down faster than rhys can growl or cum to the image of his child

1. Explosive Temper and Poor Diplomacy Let’s talk about the High Lords meeting in A Court of Wings and Ruin. Remember that? Feyre’s blow-up at Beron wasn’t just a passionate defense—it was a major diplomatic fuck-up. Yes, Beron was being a total asshole, but diplomacy often means biting your tongue and playing the long game. Feyre's outburst could have easily cost them an alliance with the Autumn Court, potentially turning Beron into an outright enemy. With Hybern on the horizon, losing any potential allies could have been catastrophic. Instead of keeping things cool and trying to find common ground, she let her temper flare, risking everything Rhysand had worked for to keep the courts united. Feyre basically threw a damn match onto a pile of political dynamite.

2. Alienating Potential Allies Ah, the Summer Court fiasco. Remember when Feyre decided it was a good idea to steal from Tarquin? Not just any theft, but a "Hey, let's be friends—JK, I’m taking your most powerful magical artifact" kind of theft. Brilliant move. And then she had the nerve to act all shocked when Tarquin was pissed about it. "What do you mean you're mad I stole from you? We're supposed to be allies!" Gee, I wonder why Tarquin wasn’t thrilled about that little betrayal. It's like borrowing your friend's car and returning it on empty, with a dent in the side. And by "borrow," I mean grand theft auto. Feyre, maybe try not to screw over potential allies next time? Just a thought.

3. Emotional Decision-Making Feyre often lets her emotions drive her decisions. While being passionate isn't inherently bad, it becomes a problem when it overrides logic and strategy, especially in the high-stakes world of Prythian politics. The High Lords meeting is one instance, but it happens repeatedly. Her open hostility toward Tamlin, even if understandable on a personal level, didn't help the broader cause. By pushing him further away instead of seeking some form of truce, she risked driving him into Hybern's arms. A High Lady needs to think beyond personal grudges to what’s best for her people and her court, and Feyre struggles with that balance. You can't just say "screw it" and go off on people when the fate of your entire court is on the line.

4. Ignoring the Complexity of the Night Court And let's not forget the Night Court's lovely little secret: Hewn City. You know, that underground hellhole they basically keep under lock and key. Rhysand and Feyre are all "Oh, look at Velaris, it's so pretty and free!" Meanwhile, half their court is rotting in a glorified dungeon. And what's Feyre's big idea for dealing with Hewn City? Oh, right, pretend it doesn't exist. Smart. Because ignoring a potential uprising within your own court is definitely the way to keep things stable. It's like the French Revolution all over again—if the Night Court were France, then Feyre's approach is like Louis XVI ignoring the starving peasants while hosting extravagant parties. Eventually, ignoring the discontent and keeping people oppressed leads to revolution. Treating Hewn City like an inconvenient problem rather than addressing it is a recipe for disaster.

5. Undermining Rhysand’s Diplomacy Rhysand spent centuries mastering diplomacy—playing the long game, keeping everyone in check. And then comes Feyre, storming in like, "Oh, you spent centuries building these delicate alliances? Well, watch me fuck it up in five minutes." She's like that one friend who always says, "Hold my beer," right before doing something incredibly stupid. Rhys is trying to keep the court from crumbling, and Feyre's out there acting like diplomacy means "scream at the enemy until they go away." Newsflash: That’s not how this works. This isn't some street brawl where whoever yells the loudest wins. It's politics. You know, the art of not making enemies out of every living soul around you?

Conclusion Feyre's got the passion, the guts, and the fighting spirit of a warrior. But when it comes to actually leading a court? She’s like a bull in a china shop, if that bull also happened to have a grudge against every piece of porcelain in the room. Being High Lady isn’t about who's right in the heat of the moment; it's about playing the long game, keeping your people safe, and not, you know, burning bridges with every other court. If she keeps going down this path—alienating allies, ignoring the needs of half her own court, and letting emotions drive her decisions—the Night Court is in serious trouble. Feyre needs to understand that diplomacy isn’t about who can throw the best tantrum. It’s about avoiding a revolution and ensuring the stability of your people. Otherwise, the Night Court might fall not because of an external threat, but because its own leader is too busy screwing things up from the inside.

[the-lazyyy-artist]

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x GN!Reader Synopsis: He left as a hero, and he returned cold and heartless. What adventures have made him like this? Would you still love him? Themes: angst, post-WC! Kunigami, set during Blue Lock's two-week break after their win against JP U-20 (chapters 150 - 153), reader is hopeful, Kunigami lost all humanity, established relationship, if you squint a little it's kinda like Epic's OdyPen lmao Author's Note: Epic The Ithaca Saga is ruining my brain chemistry. A mutual and fellow writer already created something like this but I wanna put my own twist on this hehe!

@thebestsetter ✨

Kunigami Rensuke was a hero before he became yours.

He always believed in goodness, helping everyone else, and acting like a big brother to those who needed his guidance. It's no wonder his morals bleed through his play on the field. To win each game fair and square while he showcases his skills. Watching how he turned into a knight in shining armor every time he stepped onto the field, defending his team from the enemy and scoring his goals was mesmerizing.

So, when he was invited to the Blue Lock Program, you weren't so surprised.

"How long will you be there?" you asked him once while you were on his bed, watching him go back and forth around his room, packing a small duffle bag of the things he might need in the facility. "That's something I can't answer right now, love," he replied, "it's something they never clarified in the letter. But let's say 2 or 3 months, give or take."

"Take care of yourself in there, okay? Show them the hero that you are," you reminded him, smiling up softly as he zipped the bag close. He was ready. Ready to face a new adventure, new challenges, and new foes and allies. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. "I will. Then when this is all over, I'm coming home to you with stories from my training."

"You're not leaving me behind, are you?" you teased, reaching for his hand. On his ring finger was a promise ring, the same one you wore. A symbol of his love for you and his promise to marry you. Your fingers gingerly held on to his ring, feeling the rough metal against your skin. "I will never. I'll always take you with me, remember? I'll be back before you know it."

3 days later, he left with a kiss, a promise, and a vision of him taking over the world with his aspirations.

A few weeks in, you received a call from him, happy and excited to talk to you. He told you about the things he's learned, the friends he's gained, and the foes he's made. He spoke about an Isagi, a Chigiri, and a Bachira, and how these people made him feel stronger with how they all blended on the field. You were proud to hear him grow and find friends.

"How did you get your phone anyway? I thought the letter said phones aren't allowed?" You asked him.

"We were given a star system where goals are exchanged for points that we can use for different privileges," Kunigami explained, "I exchanged my first goal for steak, and shared that with Isagi. Now, I exchanged two of my goals for my phone so I can talk to you."

Always so considerate. Your hero never changed despite the changes he's experienced in Blue Lock. With every point he earned, he'd always exchange it for phone time to call you and tell you about his adventures.

Suddenly, the calls stopped.

You're sure Kunigami wasn't the type to never make a goal. Was he getting into harder challenges in there? No matter how hard it was, you knew your hero would never back down.

Right?

It worried you. You kept looking at your phone, waiting for a call. You kept replaying your conversation weeks ago about a possible second selection and how it would play out, and you worried it was even more challenging than the team matches. Would he get out of it alive? Triumphant? Of course! Since when did you start doubting your hero?

You began to twist your ring, anxious about Kunigami as the days went by, each one feeling longer than the last. It's making you sick. He was never the type to just disappear without saying anything.

The announcement of an exhibition game with Japan U-20 made you feel hopeful again. Knowing your hero, he would be part of the starting 11. You saved enough for the tickets for you and your sibling to watch him play live. You were excited about what skill he gained in Blue Lock, and if he improved to be the best version of himself.

But why wasn't he there?

You know Isagi was there... Chigiri... Bachira... but where was he? Where's your hero?

The win was a blur. How can you even cheer for his team when he isn't there? It's impossible that he's benched too. Kunigami was never the type to warm the bench for the whole game. You wanted to ask Isagi... Maybe Chigiri because Kunigami has talked about him the most. Bachira might know too. But it's impossible to reach them, especially with how they disappeared into the building after the game.

"Where are you?" you whispered into the empty stadium.

Maybe it's time to let go. No. Kunigami made it clear that you would never let go. You'll wait for him to call. You'll wait for him to send you some kind of sign. Anything. Letting go is never the answer, he would say if he's beside you. So, with every passing day after the match, you never went anywhere without your phone, hoping soon he'd call.

How cruel must fate be that the only time you let your guard down was on the day he decided to show up?

Your mother opened the door for him, a gasp leaving her lips. She led him to your door and left him to talk to you. From the outside, Kunigami tensed as he wrapped his large hand around your doorknob, hearing your voice spilling out as he opened it slowly. And for a moment, Kunigami would like to believe nothing has changed. For a moment, all he could see was the light he held on to.

There you were, sitting on your desk as you studied with headphones on, singing one of the songs from the playlist he created for both of you to listen to. Clearly, in your little world, you didn't hear Kunigami enter and close your door behind him. Kunigami sighed, and then he opened his lips to say your name.

Oh, it felt like a lifetime since he spoke your name. Kunigami felt a piece of him remembering what it was like to say your name the first time he met you.

"Y/n."

No answer.

"Y/n," he said once more, a little louder. He saw you perk up a little.

You don't know if you're just imagining things or if Kunigami's voice sounded nearer than how you'd usually imagine it on the days you missed him. And then...

"Y/n."

You removed your headphones, standing up so quickly that your chair toppled over and fell to the floor with a thud. In front of you right now was your hero, the man you waited to return. You held your breath for a moment as you took a good look at him. He looks... he looks...

Tired. His build was bigger, but he looked tired. His hair was a thick mop of messy orange, his eyes...

"Rensuke?" You spoke with caution, "Is it you?"

Kunigami felt like he could fall to his knees the moment you spoke. But he wouldn’t allow himself to do so. You stepped away from your desk to walk to him, holding out your hands to touch him, that this wasn't a dream. He was cold, his cheeks, at least.

That was enough to break you. You embraced him, crying and grateful that your hero had returned. "You're back," you sobbed softly, "my Rensuke, you're back to me." You felt him lift his hands, but instead of embracing you, he gripped your shoulders and pulled you away from him. "Y/n," he spoke, his voice ragged but soft, "I'm not entirely back."

"W-what do you mean?" you asked, your teary eyes, wide and confused, looking up to meet his dull orange eyes. This was the first time you've seen him so lifeless. What the hell happened?

"I'm not the Rensuke you once knew. That version of me is gone."

"What?"

"I'm not the hero I promised you to be."

"What... I-I don't understand. What happened, my love?"

Rensuke looked at you with a slight hint of vulnerability. He must not show weakness. It was drilled into him that he'll be ruthless, he'll become irrational if it means becoming the best that the world will see. But with the sight of you, it felt impossible. "They... changed me. I'm not the hero we both envisioned to be. I... I had to become cruel and let go of my beliefs... The Rensuke you fell for because he believed in doing the right thing fair and square is dead.

"That's why I decided you can no longer love me, Y/n. Because I can't."

You're not hearing this, right? Yet, he sounded so sure. His voice was firm, the same one he would use on his teammates.

"Who are you to decide that?" you asked calmly, reaching for his hand again. Your gaze lowered to his hand, callused and tired, yet the ring was still there. A little worn out than the last time you saw it, but he's still wearing it. Your fingers worked on twisting the ring off his finger, causing him to tense up.

"What are you doing?" he asked, a hint of panic in his voice. You looked up at him with determined eyes. "You once told me when you got these rings for us that if we no longer love the other, we should remove our rings.

"I'm removing yours for you, Ren."

The ring was almost off his finger when he suddenly closed his hand. You looked up at him, and there he was, the Rensuke you fell in love with. "Don't, please..."

"But you said you can no longer love me," you reasoned, still holding his hand. Rensuke stared at you, his walls slowly breaking down at the reality of what he just told you. A stupid, stupid decision because he can't stop loving you.

The whole time he was in the Wildcard Project, the only thing that made him hold on to the little humanity he had in him was the promise of forever in your arms when he returned. The ring on his finger comforted him on nights when he almost gave up because his dream of becoming the best came from you. He promised he'd bring you with him and that he'd come back to you. So, he persevered and came out triumphant... but at what cost?

"How could you even love a cold-hearted man, my love?" he asked, his voice now a mere whisper, slightly cracking, "I have nothing left in me but the drive to win. I am no longer the warm man you want to be with for the rest of my life. I did all I could inside that facility for us to reach our dream, but they drained me. How can you still love me if I have nothing to give you any more?"

"I would still love you because no matter what, you're mine. You're my Rensuke, the man who made me believe that love as pure as yours exists in this world," you replied, "I don't care how much you've lost in there. As long as you return in my arms, I know a part of you that loves me and believes in us is still in there. I know you're still in there, Ren."

And with that, Rensuke broke down in tears in your arms. The place he had always longed for in the days he felt so alone. The warmth that he always yearned for in the coldest and loneliest nights. He's home. He's here.

"If you didn't care about me, you should've removed your ring a long time ago," you added, "but the symbol of your love for me is still there. A little worn, but I know you still have love for me.

"I've waited for you to return. This is all that matters now."

"I love you," Rensuke said between his tired sobs, his orange eyes sparkling with a little bit of life. He's still in there, the hero you loved is still in there.

"And I love you."

[icarusignite]

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The ships have come to carry you home Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Weary of the gilded cage of royalty, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain to defy the bounty on your head.

Pairing: Siren Yeosang x Poacher Reader Summary: You have always lived by the code of the hunt, and as a skilled poacher of exotic creatures, the only law you abide by is that of your own survival. But when a lucrative contract tasks you with capturing a siren alive, you find yourself ensnared in a perilous game where delivering the prize without succumbing to your own guilt or its elusive song proves impossible. (coming soon)

Pairing: Ex-Naval Officer Jongho x Captive Reader Summary: As the daughter of the naval commander, you find yourself ensnared by the very pirates your father hunts. Among them, your most ruthless captor is none other than the man who once served your father but is now a deserter of the worst kind. As days turn to weeks, you uncover the hidden truths that drove him from the ranks of the navy, and through the eyes of your captor, you witness the cruel corruption that festers within the very force sworn to protect the seas. (coming soon)

Pairing: Cartographer Yunho x Pirate Reader Summary: When you find yourself marooned on a remote island after your ship is stolen, you must rely on your wits to survive. With the unexpected help of an old friend, you join a new crew ready to take back what was yours. Among your new allies is the soft-spoken cartographer, whose quiet strength and compassion offer you unexpected comfort. (coming soon)

Pairing: Explosives Master Mingi x Medic Reader Summary: Life as the ship's medic is no easy task, battling not only the fierce skirmishes and injuries typical of a pirate's life but also the ship's resident explosive expert, who constantly finds new excuses to seek your company, often accompanied by yet another injury for you to tend to. Despite your repeated warnings, his cavalier attitude toward safety continues to test your patience and skills, until his recklessness costs him more than he could ever anticipate. (coming soon)

Pairing: Lookout San x Spy reader Summary: You have managed to infiltrate a notorious pirate ship through deception and lies. Your mission: to pass on their secrets to their enemies. But navigating the perilous waters becomes increasingly difficult when you discover the all-seeing eyes of the ship's lookout, who seems to witness all and scrutinize your every move. Caught between the need for stealth and the watchful gaze that seems to penetrate your every facade, you must tread carefully, or risk being exposed and facing dire consequences. (coming soon)

Pairing: Firstmate Seonghwa x Ghost Reader Summary: Trapped for centuries within an ancient artifact as a restless ghost, you find yourself unexpectedly released by the intimidating first mate of a pirate ship. However, there's more to him than meets the eye, and as you struggle to adapt to a world you no longer recognize, he finds himself strangely drawn to you and your secrets. (coming soon)

Pairing: Quartermaster Wooyoung x Pirate Hunter Reader Summary: You have dedicated your life to eradicating piracy from the seas, but when a case of mistaken identity finds you on the wrong side of the law, you're forced to flee with the very crew you have sworn to destroy. Onboard the pirate ship, tensions run high, and you find yourself torn between your duty and an unexpected connection with the charming quartermaster who is determined to make you stay. (coming soon)

A/N: lol so Ateez at Coachella was my final straw and I absolutely had to write for them. This pirate/maritime theme has been rattling around in my head for a while so I'm excited to get into it. They're probably going to be one-shots or maybe 2 parters if they get long. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list <3 will probably post the first one sometime next week cuz exams this week rip

[queenshelby]

Business As Usual (Part Five)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Angst, Cheating

Words: 1,678

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Just as you heard the shots and Tommy walked outside, your heart raced in fear. Your body trembled with anxiety, realizing how dangerous your life had become since marrying into the world of the notorious Peaky Blinders and, even though you grew within the ranks of the Mafia, you had always been sheltered from the dangers of the underworld.

But this did not mean that you could not protect yourself. Your father had taught you how to shoot when you were just a child. Taking one step backward, your hand thus instinctively reached out to grab the gun resting elegantly yet threateningly upon Tommy’s mahogany-finished desk.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal surface, feeling an almost primal connection to it. The click echoed through the vastness of the room, reminding you of all those years ago – practicing until your aim became perfect, steady. This was what you needed now as there was no way that you would rely on anyone else to protect you and the unborn child you were secretly carrying.

You heard another shot being fired outside before gripping the gun firmly, pushing past the panicked fear swirling inside you.

As you stepped forth onto the porch area where Tommy was standing, he immediately snapped, telling you to go back inside.

"I told you to stay inside!" His voice boomed throughout the night air like thunder, causing birds to scatter and leave their perches just before another shot was fired from somewhere down below - close enough to raise alarm bells in both of your hearts. Fear and adrenalin coursed swiftly through your veins, urging you both to act decisively amidst uncertainty. 

"Who is it?" your voice quivered slightly as the words left your lips, betraying your growing fear.

"Someone whose got out for you and your fucking family. Now go back inside!" Tom's command came sharply, cutting through the oppressive silence that had fallen upon the gardens below. But despite his tone suggesting authority, his face revealed hesitation mixed with anger, making clear that while he knew better than most, leading such a brutal organisation carried its own set of burdens. As his gaze shifted towards the ground, you couldn't help but notice how his usually cold exterior softened, replaced instead by vulnerability which only served to intensify the desire simmering beneath the surface.

With Charlie inside, he knew not to let this stand and, just after you indeed walked back into the foyer of your large residence, your husband ought to investigate the disturbance. 

His presence commanded attention wherever he went. He strode purposefully forward, his powerful legs propelling him quickly along the front yard of Arrow House. 

His mind conjured up images of the enemies he had vanquished and friends made, allies lost...all these memories seemed to whisper in his ear as he approached closer to the place from whence the shots were coming. His chest tightened at the thought of losing more comrades, especially when they faced challenges like this. It was a constant struggle, and although some may deem it glamorous due to popular culture portrayals, Tommy understood well that leadership wasn't easy nor glamorous, requiring endurance, tactical thinking and, above all, sacrifices.

Meanwhile, you walked towards the back of your large house to also investigate where the shots were coming from. Feeling anxious and worried, adrenaline flowed through your veins, leaving your hands clammy and your stomach knotted. 

You knew that someone was in your house, intending harm to either Tommy or yourselves. Slowly, stealthily, you moved further into the hallway of your home, peering around corners and into rooms to ensure nothing escaped your vision. All the while, your ears strained to pick up any sounds indicative of danger nearby.

Suddenly, you caught sight of movement behind the sofa at the far end of the living room, and you instinctively raised your weapon, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Just then, something fell through the air from behind you.

Before you could react, the silhouette of a tall looking man emerged from behind the furniture, lunging toward you with a savage grace. With lightning speed, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying straight towards your target. There was an audible scream followed by a sickening crunch, and then eerie stillness returned once again.

For a moment, you stood motionless, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It took several moments for you to realize what you had done.

Adrenaline surged through your body, and you felt numb. Your arms shook violently as you dropped the gun onto the floor, its sound reverberating across the silent house. You hadn't realized how much your body ached until you finally stopped firing. The pain radiated from your shoulder down your arm and into your wrist as you too must have been shot. 

You covered your arm with your hand, trying to stop the bleeding as you looked downward, seeing the victim laying sprawled lifeless beside you before you heard yet another shot being fired outside, causing you to jump.

The sudden noise broke the spell, bringing back the harsh reality of the situation. Realization struck hard, as your heart hammered fiercely in your chest, your limbs trembling involuntarily. Adrenaline filled your system, causing your pulse to race erratically. Gulping down your terror, you managed to regain control over your shaking knees and picked up the gun you had fired just moments ago.

You raced outside, determined to find the source of the last shot fired. Outside, darkness loomed heavily, providing ample cover for potential attackers. The rain began to fall, creating puddles everywhere as you searched frantically for anything unusual that might indicate the presence of hostile forces. Glancing nervously in every direction, you tried to maintain focus while battling against fatigue and discomfort caused by your injury.

Finally spotting something suspicious near a group of bushes, you slowly edged closer, pointing your gun directly ahead as you steadied your breathing.

This is when you saw her. The woman you hated the most, holding a knife against your husband's throat while Isiah Jesus, another member of the Peaky Blinders, was pointing a gun at her.

Her hazel eyes held a mixture of determination and cruelty, contrasting starkly with Tommy's own intense gaze fixed on hers

Carefully, you approached the group and, in her panicked state, Laura did not notice you until your gun was pointed directly at her head. 

"Drop the fucking knife or I will blow your brains out," you warned her, taking care to remain calm and composed. Your heart pounded in your chest, knowing full well that this situation was beyond treacherous.

Laura, however, remained unfazed, seemingly reveling in the fact that she was putting Tommy and herself in grave danger. Her resolve appeared ironclad, hinting at an underlying reason behind her actions that you didn't understand, but your primary concern at that moment was getting Tommy safely out of the line of fire, simply for Charlie's sake. 

"You should join my side, Y/N. He is using you and so is your family," Laura argued defiantly, clearly wanting to cause havoc.

"Says the woman with no fucking morals whatsoever," you retorted, feeling your blood pressure rise as you struggled to contain your rising temper.

Isiah merely watched with grim detachment, waiting for orders from Tommy and sensing that things were about to get ugly very soon. 

Realizing that arguing wouldn't solve anything, Tom decided to take action. His decision was final, showing the strength of his convictions even during times of crisis.

"Now drop the knife," you demanded again forcefully and, just as you spoke the words, Tommy grabbed her wrist tightly in an effort to push her away. 

Laura, of course, put up a fight and it was this fight which caused you to lower the gun and shoot, aiming directly for her knee cap. The loud crack of the gunshot echoed around the neighborhood, startling nearby animals awake and bringing people to their windows wondering what was happening outside.

She cried out in agony, falling to the ground with a grimace painted across her face. 

"This is for sleeping with my fucking husband," you seethed before uncocking your weapon.

 Turning to Tommy, you asked him one simple question, "Why her? Why would you choose her?" This time, your hurt manifested itself in a palpable way, striking Tommy squarely in the gut as he contemplated your query. 

He sighed wearily, running a hand through his dark hair in a characteristic gesture that belied his turmoil within. "It was business, nothing more," he said weakly, unable to meet your eyes. 

But his eyes told another tale, and you recognized that look of guilt etched across his features.

"She fucking played you," you muttered under your breath, turning away to avoid further confrontation.

As you stepped away, moving past Isiah and heading towards the house, tears welled up in your eyes - the result of the betrayal, fear, and confusion swirling inside you.

"Get her away from my fucking house and put a bullet in her head if you want to, Thomas! I don't ever want to see this woman again. Do you hear me?" you spat after having turned around momentarily. Your heart pounded madly in your chest, threatening to escape from your ribcage altogether.

Pain seared through your injured arm, forcing you to grit your teeth against the waves of agony crashing upon you. Ignoring the debilitating pain, you pushed open the door leading back into the living room. Inside, everything looked as though chaos reigned supreme—the mess of torn papers littering the floor bore testament to the urgency of the encounter that had unfolded earlier. Dread settled in your bones as you trudged through the broken glass and discarded documents, eventually reaching the staircase leading to the second level.

Tears threatened to overflow as you climbed the steps, wincing slightly at the sharp prickle of pain coursing through your wounded arm.

Desperate to distract yourself from the overwhelming mix of emotions raging within you, you attempted to focus on your physical injuries instead. The bullet lodged in your arm had now begun to throb insistently, accompanied by a steady trickle of blood oozing outwards.

You knew that you had to attend to your injuries now but you almost had no strength left within you to do so until, eventually, you heard a familiar voice from behind.

"I will take you to the hospital, Love," Tommy whispered softly, his tone laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. It seemed as though he genuinely wanted to comfort you despite all that had transpired tonight. And suddenly, your anger started to fade somewhat, probably because you were exhausted. 

Inhaling deeply, you shook your head, knowing that there would be questions. 

"No. You can get the bullet out," you replied stubbornly, unwilling to let anyone else help you. As strong as you may appear, you knew deep down that it wasn't really you, but rather pride keeping you standing upright in those shoes. Even as you clenched your jaw, attempting to hide the pain, your legs wobbled beneath you like jelly. 

"I would, if you weren't pregnant," Tommy responded, a hint of regret evident in his tone. 

Hearing these words, shockwaves of emotion coursed through you as you absorbed the truth hidden within those little words: 'pregnant'. 

Your entire world shifted abruptly as gravity lost its meaning and the air became heavier. Reality crashed down on you mercilessly, leaving you stunned. Your child...his child, conceived amidst the chaos and violence that surrounded them daily.

"You know that I am pregnant? How?" you asked, seeing that you never told him. The uncertainty in your voice revealed both your surprise and disbelief. 

Tommy nodded solemnly, acknowledging your astonishment. "Frances became to notice. She told me and I figured that you were going to see someone about it," he explained. 

"I couldn't terminate the pregnancy, no matter how much I wanted to Thomas," you admitted, your voice low and somber. 

There was a pause between you two before Tommy finally broke eye contact, looking downward thoughtfully. "I understand," he said before taking your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then leading you to his Bentley. 

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[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 11

Summary - War is brewing in Westeros, but Rhaenyra is determined to avoid it for as long as possible (to the frustration of her husband).

Warnings - General HOTD warnings, canon character death, minor violence between family members ((Y/N) and Daemon)

The end of season one! I'm putting this series on a bit of a hiatus while I figure out my plans for season two (thank you, Ryan Condal, for making my life miserable) but do not fret I have stories to hold y'all over in the mean time.

“What is our standing?” 

“We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men at arms.” Daemon spoke, “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves much to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there but I cannot speak to the numbers.” 

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon.” 

“As well as Coldwater, Sheet, and Tollett.” (Y/N) turned to Rhaenyra, “Runestone stands behind you. I have no doubt Lady Arryn will as well, the Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.” 

He watched as Rhaenyra gave him a grateful smile and placed a marker on the table. 

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, your grace. With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent raven to Lord Grover.” 

Both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra paused at Maester Gerardys’ words, they both looked up at the Prince. (Y/N) narrowed his eyes at his father, who did not look the least apologetic as Rhaenyra spoke, “Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed. He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.” 

“I am going to treat with him myself.” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at his father’s boldness, watching as he and Rhaenyra glared at each other from across the room. His father had been falling into tendencies (Y/N) had hoped he’d grown out of these past days, and the new Consort was unsure how to feel about it. 

“What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” 

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And with House Stark the North will follow.” 

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises.” Rhaenyra said, voice tight. More markers were placed around the table, the promise of war becoming stronger and stronger with each clang against the wooden table. “What news from Driftmark?” 

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone.” Rhaenys said. 

“To declare for his Queen?” (Y/N) asked. 

“The Velayron fleet is in my husband’s yoke.” (Y/N) frowned, unable to stop the hot flash of anger in his chest at her words. “He decides where they sail.” 

“We shall pray for both you and your husband's support. Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet.” Rhaenyra spoke before (Y/N) could open his mouth to speak his offense at Rhaenys’ answer. “And our enemies?” 

“We have no friends among the Lannisters. Tyland has served the hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.” 

“Without the Lannisters we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth.” Both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra frowned. 

“The Riverlands are essential, your Grace.” Daemon spoke. (Y/N) cringed inwardly at the knowledge that Daemon was making good points for all of his boldness and made eye contact with Rhaenyra from across the table.

“Pray forgive my bluntness, your Grace. But talk of men is moot. Your cause owns a power that not has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.” 

“The Greens have dragons as well.” Rhaenyra responded. 

“They have three adults, by my count. We have Syrax, Vermithor-” (Y/N) winced at his father’s words, taking in a deep breath as his father continued on his rant. “-Caraxes, and Meleys. Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Baela has Moondancer.” 

“Daemon none of our dragons have been to war.” 

(Y/N) grabbed his father’s arm, bringing him in close so that his words did not go any further than their small shared bubble. “And need I remind you, we do not have Vermithor until I am recovered.” He bit out, face hot as he spoke. 

Daemon ignored him, causing (Y/N) to throw his head back and sigh, “There are also unclaimed dragons. Seasmoke still resides on Driftmark. Silverwing dwells on the Dragonmont, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.” 

“And who is to ride them?” Rhaenyra sounded as exasperated with Daemon as (Y/N) felt. 

“Dragonstone has 13 to their 4. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont. Now…we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host. Here, at Harrenhal.” Daemon spoke, ignoring his Queen’s question. “We cut off the west, surround Kingslanding with the Dragons and we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.” 

“Your Grace.” Ser Erryk spoke up, and (Y/N) relaxed, grateful for the interruption. “A ship has been sighted offshore. A lone galleon flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.” 

(Y/N) straightened in his seat, grabbing his cane as his father shouted out commands to the men around them. He stood making his way toward his wife, she was frowning as Daemon exited the room flanked by guards and lords. 

“Follow him.” Rhaenyra said, “Make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.” 

“And you?” 

The smile she gave him did not reach her eyes, “Just go.”

(Y/N) kept one hand on his cane and the other on his sword as he watched Otto Hightower and his posse of Knights approach. Otto looked between (Y/N) and Daemon, chin up in the air and posture straight as the oak branch up his ass. 

“I come at the behest of the Dowager Queen Alicent, mother of King Aegon, Second of His Name, Lord and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” He spoke. “I’ve been directed to deliver her message only to Princess Rhaenyra. Where is the Princess?” 

Otto and his men were startled at the sound of Syrax’s screech overhead, causing (Y/N)’s lips to curve up in a smile. Syrax’s landing caused stones of the bridge to crack and fall off the side, and the she-dragon continued to growl and screech at the men as Rhaenyra dismounted and walked through the crowd. She took her place between (Y/N) and Daemon, turning to face Otto. 

“Princess Rhaenyra.” 

“I’m Queen Rhaenyra now. And you all are traitors to the realm.” Rhaenyra spat. 

Otto took her statement in stride, continuing on as if she’d never spoken. “King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name in his wisdom and desire for peace-” (Y/N) scoffed, but yet again Otto continued on. “-is offering terms. Acknowledge Aegon as king and swear obeisance before the Iron Throne. In exchange, His Grace will confirm your possession of Dragonstone. It will pass to your trueborn son, Jacaerys, upon your death. Lucerys will be confirmed as the legitimate heir to Runestone-” 

“He is my legitimate heir.” (Y/N) stepped forward, but Rhaenyra shot her arm out, blocking his path. 

“-and all the lands and holdings of House Royce.” Otto looked smug as (Y/N) begrudgingly heeded his wife and stepped back. “Your sons Aegon and Viserys will also be given places of high honor at court: Aegon the Younger as the King’s squire, Viserys as his cupbearer. Finally, the King, in his good grace, will pardon any knight or lord who conspired against his ascent.” 

“I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken usurper cunt of a king.” (Y/N) said, hand flexing around his sword. 

“Aegon Targaryen sits the Iron Throne. He wears the Conqueror’s crown, wields the Conqueror’s sword, has the Conqueror’s name. He was anointed by a septon of the faith in the eyes of thousands. Every symbol of legitimacy belongs to him. And then there is Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Houses that have already received and are at present, considering generous terms from their king.” Otto spoke, causing (Y/N) to laugh. 

“Generous? You have offered us things we already have.” 

“Stark, Tully, Baratheon all swore to me when King Viserys named me his heir.” Rhaenyra said, and (Y/N) could see the anger deep inside her bubbling to the surface. 

“Stale oaths will not put you on the Iron Throne, Princess. The succession changed the day your father sired a son. I only regret that you and he were the last to see the truth of it.” 

“You are no more Hand than Aegon is king.” Rhaenyra moved toward the man before (Y/N) could have time to respond. She rushed the man, seething, grabbing the silver hand pinned on his chest. She ripped the pendant off, tossing it over the side of the bridge. “Fucking traitor.” 

Once again Otto was undisturbed by the show of anger, “Grand Maester.” 

“What the fuck is this?” He heard his father ask as Otto grabbed a folded-up piece of parchment from the Grand Maester, handing it to Rhaenyra. (Y/N) could not see Rhaenyra’s reaction from where he was standing, but his stomach turned at the sight of her angry posture softening ever so slightly as she looked at the paper. 

“Queen Alicent has not forgotten the love you once had for each other. No blood need be spilled, so the realm can carry on in peace.” Otto said softly to Rhaenyra. “Queen Alicent eagerly awaits your answer.” 

“She can have her answer now, stuffed in her father’s mouth along with his withered cock. Let’s end this mummer’s farce.” Daemon and the knights around him drew their swords, and (Y/N) smiled as Otto’s knights tensed. (Y/N) took a step forward, not bothering to draw his sword. (The scabbard was really only by his side for show, for he was practically useless with it until he could manage to bring his arm above his head without aggravating the wound in his shoulder.) “Ser Erryk, bring me Lord Hightower so I may take the pleasure myself.” 

Syrax roared, causing the stones they were standing on to shake and the men behind Otto drew their weapons in retaliation. Before anyone could make a move Rhaenyra turned on them. 

“No.” She said, and the men around him stood down. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at her, but she did not look at him as she continued. “Kingslanding will have my answer on the morrow.” 

(Y/N) gaped as Otto Hightower and his crowd of traitors walked away completely whole. Daemon huffed and puffed in frustration the whole way up to the keep, but (Y/N) paid his grumblings no mind. His shock was aimed wholly on Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra would not look at him as they walked, or limped in (Y/N)’s case, and (Y/N) feared the worst. He bit his tongue as the council resumed, sorting through his scattered thoughts before he said something rash in front of the council. 

He’d only wished his father could have the same sort of self control. 

“It’s no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons. And have.” Daemon spoke. “The simple truth is this: we have more dragons than Aegon, even with (Y/N) recovering.” 

“Viserys spoke often of the Valyrian histories. I know them well. When dragons flew to war-” Rhaenyra sighed, “Everything burned.” 

“War has its casualties whether dragons are involved or not.” He mumbled from his seat. His voice was merely a whisper but Rhaenyra heard him anyway and shot him a subtle glare. 

“I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone.” She said it to the room, but it was clear the words were directed to her husband and uncle. 

“Are you considering the Hightowers’ terms, your Grace?” (Y/N) straightened to attention as Lord Bartimos asked the question at the forefront of his mind, on everyone's mind, apparently. 

“As Queen, what is my true duty to the realm, Lord Bartimos? Ensuring peace and unity? Or that I sit the Iron Throne, no matter the cost?” (Y/N) sighed at her words, frustration building as Daemon responded. 

“That’s your father talking.” 

“My father’s dead. And he chose me as his successor. To defend the realm, not cast it headlong into war.” 

“They have already declared war, Rhaenrya.” (Y/N) could not help the bite in his words. His frustration and exhaustion finally boiling over despite his attempts at holding it down until he and Rhaenyra were in private. 

“Clear the room.” The lords looked between the two warily but they left without complaints. As soon as the door shut behind the last lord Rhaenyra rounded on (Y/N), practically sneering. “Does the promise of war excite you?” 

“I just ended one war, Rhaenyra. My last wish is to start another, but you cannot bend the knee to the Hightowers.” (Y/N) sighed, collapsing into his chair. The action brought attention to the wound in his shoulder, and he swallowed a groan of pain. He was dreading this war, but he was not going to sit in denial. Unless they were to take the Hightower’s terms, and (Y/N) would die before he let that happen, war was inevitable. 

“If you could take the Iron Throne without putting Otto Hightower’s head on a spike, would you?” (Y/N) could not help but scoff at her question. 

“Are you not angry?” 

“I should declare war because I’m angry?” 

“No.” (Y/N) said between gritted teeth, “Because it’s your duty as Queen to crush rebellion.” 

“My oath reaches beyond our personal ambitions.” Did she not understand? How could she not understand what this slight meant for their family? 

“Personal ambitions? Rhaenyra this is your birthright and they have stolen it from you the same way they tried to steal it from Luke. To bend the knee now-” 

“Shut up and listen to me. You are acting like your father.” (Y/N)’s mouth shut with a click, his words dying on his tongue. Rhaenyra continued on, ignoring the rising anger in her husband. “My father told me something when he named me heir, The Conqueror’s Dream.” 

“A dream?” (Y/N) scoffed, but Rhaenyra ignored him. 

“A Song of Ice and Fire, a coming war against the darkness in the North. The realm must be united if it is to survive, so you must understand why I am so reluctant to plunge it into war.” She spoke with such certainty that (Y/N) almost wanted to concede to her. 

Almost. “You are in denial, Rhaenyra.” He said, forcing his voice level. He was not his father and he would not take his frustration out on his wife, even if she was part of its origin. “There is to be a war over this. I do not want it, but I have accepted it and so should you.”

(Y/N) felt himself drifting off in his chair as the lords argued around him, barely letting Rhaenyra get a word in. His body throbbed, a few new bruises added onto them courtesy of his father’s drunken anger. 

He’d sought the man out last night, too keyed up from his argument with Rhaenyra to go to their bedroom. He’d knocked on Daemon’s door hoping to drown in the wine his father no doubt had already brought up from the kitchens. Instead he’d found himself thrown into the wall after a particularly nasty screaming match that had multiple guards running into the room.  

One snide comment about Rhaenyra's choices was all it had taken for (Y/N)’s already simmering anger to rise to the surface. Rhaenyra could frustrate them both to the grave, but she was still their Queen, and Daemon needed to give her his respect, especially in the presence of the other lords.

His father had not seen it that way. 

“The Lord of the Tides, Lord Corlys Velaryon, and his wife, the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.” (Y/N) snapped to attention at the sound of Ser Eyrrk’s voice. 

“My lords.” Lord Corlys nodded to the lords around them as he limped down the steps and toward Rhaenyra. He looked well despite his injuries although the grimace he gave with every step betrayed just how healed he truly was. 

“Lord Corlys. It brings much relief to see you hale and healthy again. I extend my deepest condolences for the loss of your son, and heir.” Rhaenyra said. 

“I’m very sorry about your father, Princess. He was a good man.” Corlys looked around the room, gaze falling on (Y/N) for a moment before he spoke again. “Where is Daemon?” 

“There were other concerns which demanded my father’s attention.” (Y/N) responded, and Rhaenyra pursed her lips, having heard about these other concerns from a concerned guard the night before. She had not been happy at his father’s regressions in anger management, even less so with his decision to take his frustrations out on his already injured son. 

Corlys hummed, obviously too familiar with Daemon’s temper. “Your declared allies?” 

“Yes.” 

“Too few to win a war for the throne.” 

“Well, we would also hope to have the support of Houses Arryn, Baratheon, and Stark.” 

“Hope is the fool’s ally.” (Y/N) frowned at the Sea Snake’s words, the lord of the tides was correct in his statement but that did not mean (Y/N) had to appreciate the sentiment. 

“House Arryn shares blood with my house, but all of them swore oaths to me.” Rhaenyra was losing her patience. 

“As did House Hightower, if I remember.” 

“As did you, Lord Corlys.” 

The room went silent at Rhaenyra’s statement, but (Y/N) simply smiled. He hid his soft laugh behind his hand turning in his chair to get a better view of Lord Corlys as the Lord seemed to ponder her unspoken question. 

‘To who are you loyal to?’ 

“Your father’s realm was one of justice and honor. Our houses are bound by common blood and common cause. This Hightower treason cannot stand. You have the full support of our fleet and House, your Grace.” Lord Corlys bowed his head to Rhaenyra who sputtered. She recovered quickly, turning to look at Rhaenys who simply nodded with a smile. 

“You honor me, Lord Corlys, Princess Rhaenys.” She straightened, letting her demeanor shift back to that of Queen. “But, as I said to my bannermen, I made a promise to my father to hold the realm strong and united. If war’s first stroke is to fall, it will not be by my hand.” 

“You do not mean to act?” 

“Taking caution does not mean standing fast.” Rhaenyra shot him a subtle yet harsh look as she spoke. “I wish to know who my allies are before I send them to war.” 

“The consequence of Laenor’s sacrifice and my near-demise in the Stepstones is that we now control them. I took care to fully garrison the territory this time. A total blockade of the shipping lanes will be in place in days, if not already. The Triarchy have been routed. The Narrow Sea is ours. If we further seal the gullet we can cut off all seaborne travel and trade to Kingslanding.” The mood of the room immediately brightened at Corlys’ words. 

“I shall take Meleys and patrol the Gullet myself.” 

“When we drain the Narrow Sea, we can surround Kingslanding, lay siege to the Red Keep, and force the Greens’ surrender.” 

(Y/N) smiled at the sudden mood change amongst the lords of their council. Rhaenyra herself was not immune to the feeling and (Y/N) watched as her mouth curved up in a small smile as she watched the room. “If we are to have enough swords to surround Kingslanding, we must first secure the support of Winterfell, the Eyrie, and Storm’s End.” 

“I’ll prepare the ravens, your Grace.” Maester Gerardys moved to leave the room but Jace interrupted before he could. 

“We should bear those messages.” Everyone turned to look at the young prince. “Dragons can fly faster than ravens and they’re more convincing. Send us.” 

(Y/N) smiled at his son, “He’s right.” 

“Very well.” Rhaenyra caught his eye from across the table and smiled. “Prince Jacaerys will fly north. First to the Eyrie, to see my mother’s cousin and his father’s liege Lady, the Lady Jeyne Arryn, and then to Winterfell to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. Prince Lucerys will fly south to Storm’s End and treat with Lord Borros Baratheon. We must remind these lords of the oaths they swore. And the cost of breaking them.”

The gods, old and new, gave him no warning that day. There was no warning, no omen, for him to heed as they said their goodbyes. As he looks back on that day he wonders what he would have done differently if there had been. 

“It's been said that as Targaryens, we are closer to gods than to men. And the Iron Throne puts us a touch closer, perhaps. But, if we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms we must answer to their gods.” Rhaenyra spoke. “If you take this errand, you go as messenger not as warriors. You must take no part in any fighting. Swear it to me now.” 

“Under the eyes of the old and new gods.” (Y/N) added as the book was presented to his sons, and Jace smiled at the obvious disdain in which (Y/N) regarded The Seven. (Y/N) looked over his boys as they swore, locking eyes with their mother as they did so. Jace was as confident as (Y/N) had expected a boy of his age to be. He was still green and eager to prove himself to the realm. 

“Thank you.” Rhaenyra turned to Jace. “Cregan Stark is closer to your age than to mine. I would hope, that as men, you can find some common interest.” 

“The North follows the Old Gods as House Royce does, Jace.” (Y/N) added, smiling. “Do with that what you will.” 

Jace smiled back at him, head held high. “Yes, your Grace.” 

Luke was less confident, which brought a small frown to (Y/N)’s face. He did not comment on it, remembering himself when he first began to fall under the pressure and critique of the court. Luke was younger than he was when Rhea died, and Daemon brought him to Kingslanding, and he no doubt felt more pressure than (Y/N) could have imagined at his age. 

“Storm’s End is a short flight from here. Lord Borros is an eternally proud man. He will be honored to host a prince of the realm and his dragon. I expect you will receive a very warm welcome.” 

“Yes, Mother- your Grace.” Luke stumbled, and (Y/N) gave him a reassuring smile. 

He touched his shoulder gently, bringing his voice to a whisper so that only Luke could hear him. “Do not worry, tresy. You are simply going to remind Lord Borros of his oath, if you cannot convince him he is already lost to us.” 

Luke nodded, and (Y/N) kissed his head. He grabbed Jace next, who only gave a small protest as his father laughed and kissed his cheek. All three Royce’s turned to look at their Queen who nodded. 

“Go to it then.” 

(Y/N) had not thought to be worried as he watched his eldest sons fly off. It was only a few days later, when they received a raven assuring them of Jace’s safe arrival in the Vale, that (Y/N) began to worry about his younger son, and even then, he brushed it off. He told himself that perhaps Luke had just forgotten to write, and he did not know Lord Borros, but he would not put it past the man to not bother sending a raven. Rhaenyra began to worry immediately, watching the sky at every opportunity as if Luke would suddenly appear on Arrax to assure his mother of his safety. She would not hear (Y/N)'s excuses, and months later, in his grief, (Y/N) realized he was simply doing what he had yelled at Rhaenyra for doing not days before. 

Living in denial. 

They were in a council meeting when Daemon received the news. (Y/N) was immediately on edge at the look on his father’s face as he took both he and Rhaenyra aside. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) watched as his father struggled to find the words, turning his body so that he did not have to look at them as he spoke. 

(Y/N) did not need Daemon to speak to know what the raven had said. 

He vaguely remembers Rhaenyra’s gasp as Daemon finally got the words out. She turned away from both men as she processed the words, doubling over and clutching her stomach, sobs began to rack her body. (Y/N) stumbled as the voices in the room faded from him and his vision tunneled, Daemon reached to steady him but (Y/N) pushed his father away. He threw his cane across the room with a shout as the tears began to fall. His hands met the council table with a loud slam and he swept the nearest items off the table. The clatter of the items meeting the stone floor was not loud enough to drown out his curses and pleading words. 

His father approached him when his body finally gave up on him, his legs unable to support his weight without his cane to steady him. He held him up, pulling him close to his chest. As (Y/N) sobbed, fists pounding against his father’s chest, Daemon leaned in close. 

“An eye for an eye, a son for a son.” Daemon cupped his cheeks, forcing (Y/N) to look at him through his tears. “Your son will be avenged.”

---

Translations -

Tresy - son

[crossdressingdeath]

While I'm on the subject of the sacrificed party member and that talk between Solas and Rook where Solas assures Rook that if they win their team's loyalty they won't have to order anyone to die for them (because their team will do it on their own), I think one of the most fascinating differences between Solas and Rook is that... Solas says that they won't have to order anyone to die for them if they win those people's loyalty, but he never gives anyone that chance. The most blatant example is those spirits in the regret memories, who he sends to their deaths as a distraction without so much as a word of warning; he just... sends them off as sacrificial pawns. He "did what he had to do", and he didn't much care whether they would sacrifice themselves for his goals of their own free will or not. Solas kills people whenever he decides it's convenient for him! He needs a distraction, so he sends those spirits to their deaths. Felassan insists that modern Thedas deserves a chance, so Solas kills him. Mythal's remnant has the power Solas needs to put his plan into action, so he rips it out of her. Varric pushes him to let go of the past and give up on this plan, so Solas kills him as soon as it looks like he might actually be able to interfere. Rook can be compassionate to Solas and fully prepared to work with him to stop Elgar'nan, and Solas fucks with their head all game then stabs them in the back. He ends up alone in a world he's made an enemy of because he has killed or abandoned everyone who might have been on his side "for the good of the plan". On the other hand Rook never willingly orders anyone to die for them, they let their allies make their own decisions, and they end up with a team so loyal that they delay the fight against Elgar'nan and Solas for weeks to search for them after their disappearance; while there was definitely some prep to be done before they could go into that fight and their allies have absolutely been busy while they waited, the Veilguard absolutely put going into that fight off to look for Rook.

And I think that's the thing that really gets me here. Rook doesn't only escape Fade jail where Solas never could because they can let go of their regrets and move forward where he can't! It's also because Solas has burned every bridge he ever had; there's no one left to come to his rescue. Rook doesn't get out because they move forward, although that does keep them moving where they might otherwise have given up before the Veilguard found them; they get out because their friends come to help them, and Solas has used up and thrown away every friend he ever had. Would Mythal have come to his rescue? Felassan? The spirits he used as pawns and sacrificed? It doesn't matter, because he treated them as things to be thrown away for his benefit and the ones that survived turned on him for it (so he killed them). As Harding (if she's the one to die) says during the Fade jail sequence, to Solas everyone's a pawn that he'll sacrifice without a thought because that's what pawns are for. Rook gets out because they don't throw people away! They always have their friends' backs and never try to sacrifice anyone but themselves without that person agreeing to it (it has to be Davrin who brings down Ghilan'nain's archdemon and as far as anyone knows will die for it, but they don't try to trick him into it, they just make it clear that that is almost certainly going to be necessary and he agrees)! Rook gets out where Solas couldn't when every member of their team still active comes to their rescue because the team loves them and is loyal to them, and there is no one left to do the same for Solas. He disposed of them all. "It's for the greater good" is a pretty sentiment and all, but there really is an underlying message here of you have to let people choose. You can't decide whether someone sacrifices themselves for them; you don't have the right to throw people's lives away like that or decide the course of their lives. That's what separates our heroes from the Evanuris, and that very much includes Solas. The inability to realize and accept that is a character flaw of Solas's that's been present since DAI, and now we see the consequences: he's alone, no one will ever come to his rescue the way the Veilguard comes to Rook's, and he has no one to blame but himself.

[mitskicodedwukong]

💓 CRUSH 💓 || Triad!Wukong x Reader Oneshot

» crush (ethel cain) « 0:21 ─〇───── 3:20

╔⏤⏤⏤⏤╝🍑╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗ AUTHOR'S NOTE ╚⏤⏤⏤⏤╗🍑╔⏤⏤⏤╝ ➤ This is reposted from my old account, @nothyenlowz :3 ➤ This is a oneshot. ➤ This is romantic. ➤ Reader is gender neutral (except for one use of "maiden" in reference to you). ➤ This oneshot includes Dragonhead/Triad!Wukong, who is apart of the Triad AU belonging to @/skittlescripts! ➤ This oneshot in based off @/dumplingsjinson's 4th unrequited-but-not-actually-unrequited-love prompt! ➤ TRIGGER WARNINGS include use of "name" (couldn't avoid it, sorry </3), profanity, denial of feelings, avoidance, lying, self-deprecation, angst, and crying. ➤ Word count: 4,340

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

❝ Camo jacket, robbing corner stores; hard odds to beat when you're on all fours .❞

You didn't want this.

You didn't want this.

It started off innocently enough—a blush when you caught the Great Sage's eye, a bit of a tremble to your voice or your knees when his hand brushed yours, squealing into your pillows when he gave you gifts. Embarrassing reactions, yes, but not surprising. Afterall, whole gods have found themselves swooning for the Monkey King—what chance did your mortal self stand against the demon's wicked charm? But surely your little... celebrity crush didn't mean anything significant.

Except it did.

You barely ever had crushes growing up, much less attractions so passionate you could call them love. But with Wukong, it came far too easily. You loved the way he spoke, the way he held himself, the way he managed to create a community of loyal allies despite his many enemies. But then you also loved the simple things—his real laugh, the one that made him clutch his stomach and cackle until tears were dripping from his eyes; the way his tail swayed like a dog's and curled into a something preciously heart-esque when he was excited; the way he smelt of peaches and flower. You were always finding out new things about him through opportunities presented to you and you alone, as if he was a whole world just for you to—

No!

No, no, no!

This is how the greatest friendships crashed and burned. That initial spark of attraction and a hopeful heart paired with a traitorous brain poisoning you with sweet what-ifs and flowery dreams is all it takes for you to make one irreversible, permanent step; for you to pour your heart out only to hear we can still be friends! and watch him drift away.

Well, not you. You weren't going to risk breaking your heart nor your and Wukong's friendship over a crush, no matter how insistent. So after many sleepless nights of brainstorming, you finally devised a plan to squash your feelings for the Monkey King.

1.) Create distance physically.

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, fighting the urge to scratch angry red blotches into the skin while you wait for Wukong to pick up your call. You thought this method would be easiest for enacting Step 1, assuming Wukong and Macaque wouldn't be able to pick out any lies over the phone. But with how long it's taking him to answer, maybe you were better off just ditching your phone altogether—

"Hey, peaches!" Wukong's cheery voice greets over the line, making you huff in relief. "What's up? You're not calling to ask if you can come up, right? Because you know I've told you you can just come, riiighttt?"

Your heart swoons pathetically, and you have to aggressively remind yourself that hanging out with Wukong is the exact opposite of what you want to achieve.

"Yessss, I remember," you force out in a nasally, cracking voice that you pray sounds convincing. "But no, that's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, peaches, are you sick?" Wukong asks worriedly, and you can feel his furrowed eyebrows through the phone.

"No," you snark, and then you force out some rough-sounding coughs, grimacing at the way your throat stings. "This happens every year. Sometime near spring I get super sick for like a month—might be the pollen or something, I dunno."

"I never noticed," Wukong replies softly. "I'm sorry, peaches. I woulda helped you before if I'd realized."

Your heart flips again and you lean away from the phone to muffle a quiet squeal into your palm before returning. "It's—" cough "—fine. I'm a big girl, a little springtime bug isn't going to kill me. But it is gonna keep me in my house for a few weeks."

"In that case, why don't I let Macaque handle things for a bit and come over—"

"No!" You snap out, your hand immediately smacking over your mouth at the outburst. Fuck! You think, mind racing to recover from your fumble. You let out a series of coughs as you think, then lick your lips. "S-Sorry... while it means a lot that you'd do that for me, when I get like this... it's just easier to handle it alone. I don't really have the energy to be around people or have them around me."

You cross your fingers, your opposite hand gripping your clothes in a white-knuckle grip as a few beats of silence pass. God, let him believe me so I can hang up—

"Alright, peaches," Wukong replies in that same gentle voice, the one that makes you melt like butter, and you have to lean back so he won't hear the relieved puff of air you let out. You're so busy rejoicing you nearly miss what he says next. "But I'm still going to drop food off to you, alright?"

Seeming to sense the coming argument from you, he adds, "I'll just drop it off at your door and send you a message."

You sigh, a small smile forcing it's way on to your face despite the situation still not being as perfect as you'd hoped for. "Guess I can't stop you, sunshine."

"Nope!" Wukong laughs, popping the p. "Get well soon! Who knows what mischief I'll be up to without my angel to keep me on the path of grace?" he coos with a subtle purr to his words. A wild blush blooms on your face, burning your ear tips as you soak in what he said.

"You're supposed to be able to do that on your own, Great Sage," you croak out, burying your flushed face in your unused hand even though the cheeky monkey isn't here to see it.

"What's the fun in that?" Wukong snickers. Then his voice lowers again, squeezing your heart. "But seriously, take care of yourself, peaches. If you need space, that's fine, but if you need help, ask. There's nothing you could do that would chase me away."

What he says is sweet, so sweet, and dream-like. His words make you think of a fairytale, with you a fair maiden and him a brave, persistent, dragon-slaying knight.

But life's not a fairytale, and things won't go your way just because you wish on a star.

"Will do, Wuks," you say quietly. "Bye."

"Bye, peaches."

Beep-beep.

Step 1... achieved.

2.) Create distance emotionally.

You couldn't just get rid of your crush (well, you probably could, but that'd entail some magical intervention you're not quite desperate enough for yet), but maybe you could weaken it by limiting how much exposure you had to Wukong. Hard, considering how popular he was, but surely not impossible!

So, to start off easy, you got rid of your merch. You were able to sell most of it online, but the more stuff you got rid of, the more... upset you felt. Which made sense, sure—they were things you loved, of course, and if you hadn't fallen in love with one of your best friends, you'd never part with it—, but your thoughts felt... insane. You found yourself wondering if people would take care of it, if they'd love it and find the same joy in it that you did.

The idea of someone doing anything less made your skin crawl, and for a few brief moments, you considered doing full deep dives on buyers to make sure the merch was going to a good home. Then you reasoned you sounded absolutely obnoxious, like some creepy fangirl and not a close friend of Sun Wukong, and gave the rest away without any further hesitance.

Goddamn, did it sting though.

True to his word, Wukong stopped by your house once every few days with food and medicine. At first, you were worried he'd try to talk to you or ask to come in, but the only way you even knew he'd been there was when he alerted you with a message. You were grateful for it, but words couldn't describe the relief you had that he left no gifts in the bags.

If he had, that might have set you right back to square one.

Your house felt... empty without Wukong's memorabilia, but you chopped it up to your distaste for change. Obviously the nearly crippling discomfort in your own home was because of the now-barren walls (no way it was because you'd just given away dozens of sentimental items), so you bought some pretty posters of bands, artists, and games you liked and hung them on the wall. It wasn't the same, but you supposed that within time, it'd become your new normal.

You decided to ignore the way that settled on your body like gloomy fog.

Now... for the harder part.

Aside from merch, Wukong had gotten you plenty of personal products. Clothes, jewelry, perfumes, cooking utensils you'd been eyeing, plushies—that sort of thing. You knew just by looking at it that it was expensive, probably things that would land you in debt for life if you'd bought it yourself, and rare, too. Likely some one-of-a-kind stuff, knowing Wukong.

You spent three nights despairing over what to do with them. Giving them away to the masses felt disrespectful to say the least, and you didn't have it in you to fight with your heart so much when it protested the idea. Throwing them out didn't feel much better, and neither did burying them, but you couldn't keep them. No, no, no, it'd just encourage your stupid crush if you caved and kept anything, especially the personal stuff!

So you did the only thing you could think of: gave it to your family.

It still didn't feel great either way, but at least you knew they were being cared for. And if Wukong happened to ask for any of it back, it'd be easy to retrieve.

Later in the day, you expect to feel relieved at having found a solution, but it only fills you with dread.

All that's left are the notes.

You keep them in a pretty box in your desk. It's a deep red covered in bright splashes of color meant to resemble fireworks, with bright iron hinges on the back so it could open and close. It's perfectly pristine, not so much as a speck of dust upon it, its well-cared-for appearance taunting you as you lift it out of its drawer and sit on your bed.

You know you shouldn't look at them, but it's not like it'll change anything—you already have them memorized by heart, anyway.

Dear (name), "Sunshine", huh? Can't say it reflects much of who I am as an infamous, invincible god, but I'll take it over "simian" anyday! I think I'll call you "peaches" in return. It has a nice ring, doesn't it? Sunshine and Peaches. Like two peas in a pod. Anyway. I hope you like the clothes!

You laugh softly as you read the note. This had been after you mistakenly let your unspoken nickname for him slip after one of his meetings, flustering both you and the unprepared Dragonhead. Despite your furious blush and profuse apologies, Wukong had made you explain your reasoning behind the nickname (which was mostly Macaque's fault—damn him and his "sun and moon" metaphors). You were mortified, thinking you'd set your and Wukong's relationship way back, but when he started calling you peaches...

Sunshine stuck, and you two really did become peas in a pod.

You've torn through the whole box of notes by the time you realize there are tears running down your cheeks. When the realization hits, you bend over and press your hands to your face, open-mouthed sobs wracking your body.

Why'd it have to be him? You could've fallen hopelessly in love with anyone, and your heart chose him?

Wukong isn't the problem. No, not at all. Next to you, the Monkey King seems wild, volatile, too much. But that's only because you're a mortal, incapable of shining even half as brightly as he does. Wukong's a god, an immortal king, a being who'd felled thousands in mere moments—your best friend deserves someone who could meet him at his level, not force him into some domestic role.

Someone better than you.

The thought sends a sharp wave rocking through your chest, but with it comes some rush of desperation—you don't know if it's to fight for or against something, but it leads you to pluck one of the notes from its place on the bed,

turn it over so you can't see the words,

and fucking shred it.

That night, you lie amongst the torn pieces of paper like they're ruins of a city—something you used to know, used to love, used to find strength in.

Now they're something to be forgotten.

Step 2 is done.

3.) Find somebody else.

You have to admit, Step 3 was definitely a desperate plan B if nothing else worked, and, well...

Nothing else was working.

Your "sick" month had passed, and you were now three months into simple ignoring Wukong. You were honestly surprised the Monkey King hadn't broken into your house yet, but based on some demon conflicts you'd seen on the news, you figured he was busy.

But that wasn't the problem. What was the problem was your crush hadn't waned in the slightest! In fact, your attempts to get rid of it had only made you want to run further into Wukong's arms, where you'd be drowned in the scent of peaches and flowers and the feeling of soft fur and a strong body against yours and—

Goddamnit!

Part of you felt... tired; sick of what you perceived as dramatic and begging for a break from the heartache. It whispered to you, questioning how good Wukong was to keep around if he would cut you loose just for a crush—even saying that it'd be good for you. Save you the trouble and put you on the path of healing before it got real bad... whatever that meant.

But the other half of you fought and it fought hard. You wanted Wukong, even if it meant you could only have him as a friend. He made you feel good and you'd die before giving that up—that was why you'd started this whole mess in the first place!

Besides. Even in the highly unlikely, fantastical world that Wukong didn't reject you—you were a mortal, temporary and simple. Unfortunately, the same would be applied to your relationship. When you ended, so would it. If you couldn't grow old together, if you'd inevitably leave Wukong heartbroken and alone, was it really worth even considering?

No. That's why you're here at a café (far away from Wukong's headquarters, you made sure), sitting across from... your date.

They're gorgeous. With fawn-colored skin, soft brown eyes, and wavy, blonde, orange-dipped hair, they make you think of summer, of beach days and ice cream in the park. And they're sweet, easily cracking jokes with you and complimenting you without overwhelming you. They're... perfect.

But they're not Wukong, and the way you remain acutely aware of that as you share sweet treats with them destroys any hope you had of destroying this crush.

You're trying to think of ways to let your date down gently when you hear the door chime go off. A new customer is nothing to draw any real attention, of course, but a chorus of sharp gasps and your date's frightened stare looking past you makes you turn.

And, god, you wish you hadn't.

Wukong walks into the café calmly, his face unreadable as he scans the booths. You're fairly certain you already know why he's here, but when his eyes meet yours you just know you're fucked.

The café owner bee-lines to Wukong. "G-Great Sage!" They greet, bowing low. "What brings you here?"

Wukong doesn't break eye contact with you. "Nothing to do with you," he answers smoothly before approaching you in long strides.

You can do nothing but watch as he approaches, pinning your tongue between your teeth as you hold the intensity of his stare. Your date, seemingly noticing the tension between you two, reaches out to grasp your hand, but you gently pull away with a shake of your head.

"I'm sorry," you whisper sincerely, sliding enough money for the meal towards them just before Wukong reaches your booth.

The monkey eyes your date, unblinking. If this was any other situation (one where you hadn't avoided him for three months), you'd give him a gentle kick to the leg or something so he'd knock it off. But the situation is too tense, his presence too damning, and you're grateful for the few seconds you get from out beneath the demon's fiery gaze.

"Peaches," he finally murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. "We need to talk."

Fuck.

You get up without a word, placing your purse over your shoulder and heading towards the front door with your eyes on your feet. You can feel everyone's eyes on you—or rather, the two of you, as Wukong walks beside you until you reach the door, which he opens for you. Then he follows you out, staying just far enough behind you that he doesn't step on your heels.

Neither of you speak until you get to a bridge, void of people and surrounded by cherry blossom trees. It's adequate shade from any noisy individuals, and you're not sure if it was purposeful or not, or how you feel if it was. Wukong stops beside you as you peer over the edge.

"Peaches," he says, his voice still soft. "What's going on?"

Fuck.

You immediately deflect. "How did you find me?"

You hear him suck in a breath.

"How?" You hiss out, glaring up at him.

He stares at you in silence for a moment, then turns on his phone. As he presses a button, your phone vibrates in your hand.

"You tracked my phone?" You ask, blinking owlishly.

"You weren't answering me," replies Wukong simply, pocketing his phone again.

Your face flushes in frustration. "I was out—"

"For three months?"

That makes you go silent. Your phone vibrates again, making the screen light up. You can see Wukong's name in your notifications, but you dare not look to see how many there are, lest it condemn you further.

"You know, I went to your house," Wukong carries on, his voice thickening. "All the stuff I got you is gone."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck.

"Yeah," you mumble, your gaze falling to the ground.

"Why? Did you not like it?"

You're torn between honesty and further denial. In the end, Wukong speaks before you can make a choice.

"You didn't throw out the notes."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"It took—" his voice chokes out for a second. Your body tenses, your hands turning to white-knuckled fists at your sides. You don't look up. "It took a lot to put them together, surprisingly. Were really dedicated when you tore 'em up, huh?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Did you lie about being sick? Did you... were you just trying to get away from me?"

"It's not like that," you say, rushed, and you know as soon as the words leave your lips that you shouldn't have spoken.

"Then what is it like?" Wukong chokes out in a thick voice, but you still refuse to look him in the eye.

"I... needed alone time," you mumble.

"Why couldn't you say that?" Wukong replies, a bit of sharpness to his tone, and you can't help but feel like you've opened up the floodgates. "Do I make you feel so unsafe that you'll lie to get away from me?"

"Don't assume things about me," you snap hotly, your eyes flickering to his. They glow with a subtle red color, fixated on you, a testament to how much this has really affected him. But that's not what gets you.

It's the tears collecting in his eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

"What else am I supposed to do?" He grits out. "You ignored me for three months. You didn't even text back to say if you were still sick, or if you just wanted me to stop contacting you—"

"Wukong, I—" you try, taking a step backward when the monkey flings his arms.

"And you didn't answer MK or Macaque, either!"

"Wukong—"

"You scared the shit out of me, peaches!"

"And I'm sorry for that," you bite out, managing to shut him up for a minute. You gulp, your grip on your purse tightening. "But I had... I have a problem I have to fix—"

"What is it? If you would just tell me I could help!" Wukong exclaims, reaching towards you.

"No!" You shout, twisting away from him. "You can't help, Wukong!"

"You don't know that!"

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

"I do! I do know that!"

"How?! How could—"

"BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA FIX ME LOVING YOU?"

Wukong falls silent. Still. Your hands slap over your mouth.

The two of you stand in silence for what feels like forever. The river feels deathly silent, and not even the wind blows. Finally, you remove your hands.

"I-I mean, I can fix it, don't worry," you say quickly, the words spilling from your lips like water. "T-These... feelings—they're temporary, I promise. They're just, uh, a b-bit more stubborn than I was expecting, y-y'know? But they're nothing serious, I swear! I-I know I've been difficult these past few months, I know, I'm sorry, just... just—"

"They're what?" is all Wukong utters, his stare burning through you.

You startle for a second, hands dropping to your chest. "T-They're temporary," you repeat. "Not serious, I swear. Nothing has to change."

Wukong doesn't reply at first. Then:

"What if I want them to be serious?"

Your heart nearly stops in your chest at the force of your surprise. "What?" is all you can get out, staring owlishly at the demon.

"I said," he speaks slowly, stepping towards you. "What if I want them to be serious? To be permanent? What if I want you to be head over heels for me, hm?"

You shiver as he stands before you, hands ghosting over your hips.

"What if I want it all to change, peaches?"

Your heart thumps in your chest, your mind desperately trying to make sense of what he's saying.

Surely he's not... he doesn't mean...

"I don't understand," you whisper, your hands hesitantly pressing against his chest.

"Oh, peaches," he coos softly, leaning in until his forehead rests against yours and all you can see are his eyes.

"Wu—"

"I love you, (name)."

Your breath catches in your throat, your mouth falling open in shock. Your entire body freezes, your thoughts halted as you process his words...

and then your heart soars.

"Me?" You crack out, a blush warming your skin exponentially. It's a bit overwhelming, the mix of love, surprise, and unfiltered relief. So much so that you can't stop the tears from building up in your eyes and slipping out as you stare up at him. "You love me?"

"Of course," Wukong says softly, his fingers reaching up to brush your tears away. "How couldn't I?"

A sob leaves your mouth at the question. "'C-Cause you're... I'm—"

"Simple?" Wukong ventures, frowning at your nod. He huffs, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. "Peaches, you are anything but simple. You're brilliant and talented and witty and a quick-learner. You keep me guessing even now, and I've been around for a while," he soothes you sweetly, a breath of laughter to his voice.

You can't help but laugh a little with him, your heart swelling at his compliments. Your hands slide up his chest and his neck, feeling the soft fur slide through your fingers, and settle on his cheeks. You mirror him then, your thumbs petting his cheek bones and brushing away the wetness in his eyes. Another wave of fresh tears overcomes you when he leans into your hands.

"You're the closest thing to perfection I've ever seen," Wukong murmurs emotionally, one of his hands retracting to engulf one of your's. "You're my girl. My peach. My qíng rén."

A sob breaks free of your lips again as you pull Wukong against you, hiding your face in his chest as you cry. The Dragonhead curls around you, as if shielding you from the outside world, which you're thankful for.

Damn. All of this to find out the great Monkey King loves you back? You're not complaining, god no! Despite your tears, your heart is doing tricks, somersaults and great leaps and cartwheels. It's just...

You definitely have some communication skills to work on, you think.

That can wait, though, you think then, your crying finally tapering out. You manage to tilt your head enough to see Wukong's face, the demon smiling down sweetly at you. Your fingers fiddle with his tie for a moment before drifting upwards and holding his face again.

"Peaches," Wukong calls softly, holding your gaze. "What're you thinking?"

You pause before answering. "I... I want to kiss you," you admit, watching the monkey's face turn a red hue similar to your's. "Can I?"

His ears wiggle, his nose twitches, and then he nods, and you can feel his tail wagging by your legs.

The time for picking on his adorable monkey mannerisms will come later, because right now all you're focused on is bringing Wukong's lips to yours and finally knowing how it feels to kiss the Great Sage.

It's done at an awkward angle since Wukong didn't let you go, the both of you straining a bit to meet each other in the middle, and you break away fast, but it's perfect to you. Maybe not how you imagined a requited crush kiss going, but it's your greatest wish come true in spite of that.

"I love you," he breathes.

Your breath catches again, your heart still flipping ecstatically. "Say it again."

Wukong grins, fangs peeking out of his smile. "I love you, qíng rén."

As you bring the Dragonhead into another kiss, you think of one thing.

Maybe fairytales do exist after all.

❝ Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you .❞

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay okay, so Tim finds out Bruce is stuck in the timestream and gathers all his siblings + Barbara for a meeting, presenting his evidence, a drafted plan of action to save Bruce . . .

. . . And asks what to do with this information

They all come to an agreement / majority vote

l e t h i m d i e

=========

Once upon a time they thought that Gotham, the world, that they, all needed Batman

Now that isn't the case anymore

Oh he was mourned, by the Justice League, by his allies, by civilians . . .

But the Batfamily has grown into their own, they've found a way to fight for Gotham, Bludhaven, Crime Alley because they've inherited the Fear of Batman

They've found their own ways to instill the fear of them into the criminal world

Their territories are becoming better even despite their Patriarch being dead

And they feel less dead than they were becoming under his thumb

The Dark Knight is Dead; Long Live The Dark Knights

· · ·

People questioned what would happen with the Prince of Gotham dead

Tim tried becoming CEO, but Jason stepped in himself to take the mantle from right under him, citing he was too young and should enjoy his childhood while it still lasted

That started quite a fight between them

Duke Thomas was adopted by Jason and while not technically joining the family's nightlife, Signal could always be found while the sun was up

Gotham's bones broke, organs failed, and flesh was bitten off

Gotham has never been better since Batman or even The Second Robin died

Praise the Batfamily

This is happiness . . .

?

=========

Somebody finds out they let Batman die

Be it the Justice League, other heroes, their rogues, or another hero's rogues, or somebody else entirely

They find out

Do other groups learn by themselves? Does this knowledge come into the hands of people who would spread it?

Either way, the Batclan is going to have to confront that it's known they let Batman die

Is the knowledge it used maliciously, is the accuser wanting answers, or is it a mix of both

Gosh, what will Alfred think if he learns? I imagine that even if he enabled Bruce's abuse they kept him around, stick close enemies and friends after all

(me thinks personally that Joker is throwing a fit with his nemesis dead, and he may not even be able to abuse the fact his own kids killed him cuz it was a child abuser who was killed by his abused)

(but I'd love to see your take on Joker's pov when he only knows Batman is dead and if he learns his kids left him for dead and if he learns they were abused by him and that's why they let him die)

Now I'm wondering what would happen if it got leaked to the public that the Batfamily knew Batman could've been saved but did nothing about it. There could be so many different reactions from different groups

Crime Alley people, criminals, people outside Gotham, Gothamites themselves, and Bludhaven residents would have different takes collectively methinks

Fucking hell, that isn't even accounting for all the fuckery you could do w/ Bruce Wayne = Batman and I'm not talking about an post-mortem identity reveal, I'm talking identity shenanigans

Like say the bats knowing they could have saved Bruce but left him for dead and somebody/some group learns this and leaks it

And then Jason steps in to say "you know the FUCK what? We knew our old man could have been saved and since he was shit we voted/agreed to let him die!!" And all hell breaks loose

And that's just one example!

=========

Inspired by that ask on Jason calling for a family meeting after learning Bruce is stuck in the timestream to figure out what to do from there

+ the one post where Dick tries and fails to get Tim to give up on Bruce so he doesn't embark on BruceQuest and Bruce dies in the Timestream

w/ Cassandra in particular, it'd be fun to explore her psyche in the Vote branch, if she votes to let Bruce die or not considering her "No Kill" stance

Heck, with both branches they alone bring so much fun to the table, even without the flavor of The Reveal

Agreement: You get the explore a world where all the bat kids + Barbara want Bruce dead, by why is it? You get to see all their reasons for it, and how their reasonings may mesh or clash and how they come to make their decisions!

Majority Vote: You get to see the conflicts between those who want him back and want him dead + what they do and think knowing who voted for what then onwards

Bonus if a batsibling or two start of wanting Bruce back but then decide they want him gone, or the reverse, or they flip flop again and again until they make their choice

Either branch I think would overhaul the Batfamily's relationships w/ each other in a major way and not just because someone has to take Bruce's spot as the family head or whatever, but because they chose/voted for said Patriarch to die

That's a big fucking deal

Oh yeah, Duke; is he ever taught about the (technically not) Patricide committed? Or do they keep him ignorant because ignorance is bliss?

Because if he learns through means other than them, yeah it'll be a shit show the Bats won't be prepared for beforehand

Oh yeah what about Gordon? Do you think he'd be in the know or learn via leaks or a leaker cuz he's kind of Barbara's family

Hello!!!!!!!!!!

Tw: abuse, death, murder, child abuse, suicide (let me know if I need to add more)

I love this idea, and I'm totally up for breaking it down.

If it's not an agreement, then it's likely that the ones who disagree will try to save Bruce regardless of what everyone else wants

This will turn into an all-out war as those who want Bruce dead try to prevent the others from succeeding. It would be like a weird version of capture the flag, clue, and escape the room. The save-Bruce team (whether out of love or duty) would need to gather all the evidence that Tim did while fending off attacks and working against the clock (there comes a point in time that it's too late to save Bruce).

Even if they all agree, it's still complicated feelings wise.

Bruce is an abusive piece of shit (especially in this AU), but it's hard to not love your abuser. The cycle of abuse is difficult to break out of. I think Dick and Jason would be at the point they are more apathetic to Bruce's care/love. They are adults who don't rely on him. They might still love Bruce, but it's easier for them to put a defense against the man emotionally to the point of condoning his murder.

Babs and Steph aren't his kids, so, while their feelings aren't black and white, it's easier to distance themselves from Bruce.

Canonically, I think Tim recently got adopted by Bruce. This makes it harder for him to outright reject Bruce. When given evidence (and shown what Bruce did to his other family members), Tim might come to the conclusion that it's better off without Bruce.

Damian is a child who just got to meet his dad. I doubt he'd be on board with this plan nor, with his hero worship, would he be able to find faults in him. He simply hasn't spent enough time with Bruce (and lots of angst to be explored there. Basically, his "siblings" that he's just met are telling him it's better for him if their dad is dead).

Cass loves Bruce. She trusts his mission, what he's supposed to stand for, and that he does love his kids (she can see that he truly does love everyone). At the same time, he hurts her siblings. She doesn't agree with leaving Bruce to die, but her feelings are complicated on the matter.

How the batkids feel about Alfred is similar (although not categorically per a kid) as they feel about Bruce

If they've reached the point where they have acknowledged that Alfred will never be on their side nor protect them, they still love that old man. They want him to be around, they would be sad at his death, but they know Alfred could and has hurt them. They know Alfred would choose Bruce over them.

The JL find out Bruce isn't actually dead with the Black Lantern battle thing.

Theoretically, other heroes can then start trying to save Bruce. Without canon Tim's information, though, they might not be able to. Bonus points to this batfam au if Oracle and others actively sabotage their efforts.

Gordon would be presented with all the evidence that Batman was an abusive piece of shit.

The Commissioner would try to bury any feelings of grief out of guilt for what he's unknowingly allowed his ex friend to get away with. If he knew that Batman was the same boy he threw a jacket over at the scene of that kid's parents' murder, he would sit at his desk with a bottle of scotch and a lit cigarette trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Jim would blame himself, curse Batman, and, as he curses himself for always allowing, do not a damn thing against what the masked vigilantes tell him to do.

Crime Alley and Bludhaven respectively probably would either not give a fuck, say "good riddance," or whistle at the fact the Bat's own kids refused to save him.

Gothamites know their vigilantes. If the batkids had refused to help Batman, than they trust the kids. There's nothing out there that would turn a man's entire family against him besides the man himself. By the end of the week, all Batman related stuff is burnt and replaced by the many symbols of the birds.

Anyone outside of Gotham (besides Bludhaven) will criticize the batkids. Gotham becomes fiercely protective over their birds after that and will fist fight anyone who tries to talk shit about them or their decision.

Fuck Joker, but here's how I think he felt about it.

Man definitely lost his shit in a fit of giggles. It seems (though Joker is slightly disappointed he wasn't part of the final showdown) that Batman was dragged down to the level of madness he swore he'd never go to. If Batman's kids turned against him, oh that must mean that the furry freak truly did horrendous actions against them!

That clown spends several weeks coming up with twisted fantasies and theories to ask out of the Birds to tease out their reactions for when he next sees them. He wants to know exactly how the Dark Knight fell and what was so dastardly to turn children against their father.

After he solves that mystery? Dealer's choice. He doesn't quite get as much joy without Batman around. He can play around with Red Hood and Red Robin specifically (if JJ happened), but nobody is the Dark Knight.

Maybe his melancholy turns into rage where he starts seriously gunning for all the Birds for not returning Batman to him. That, or Joker kills himself cause his nemesis/obsession is gone. Both are likely responses.

Anyways, I also love the positive notes you had that I didn't address. The hopefulness of them doing better for Gotham and Jason adopting Duke is fantastic. I'd love more of that as well as everything else

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Of Flowers and Death~ -Hanahaki AU

fem! reader x Zhongli, Zhongli x Guizhong, implied Zhongli x Lumine

warnings:- angst, hurt/no comfort, major character death, graphic descriptions of blood and violence. (lemme know if i missed anything) length-2.8k words a/n:- Mmm yes my favorite oneshot till date. stay till the end for that juicy angst haha (i have been writing for over two hours everything hurts but its worth it) Likes comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, and do check out my childe smau too!

Edit:- there is a sequel now- Regret, Guilt, Anguish

masterlist

“Oh..” you murmured in less than a whisper. You were hidden behind a few rocks; you had come to meet Morax, the god of Liyue, but your dearest friend, Guizhong, was already there with him, and it looked like they were having a moment. You couldn’t help but want to listen in, because after all it was Morax who you had loved for most of your life.

You were a foreigner to Liyue; you came from Inazuma. But you weren’t any ordinary Inazuman. You were the third and youngest of the Raiden sisters, who ruled over Inazuma itself. No one other than the archons knew about your existence, because Ei and Makoto kept you a secret, protected. Although not many knew, there had indeed been a few attempts on the lives of the Raiden sisters, and this was what they wanted to protect you from.

After you had a few centuries of battle experience and training under your bag, you were allowed to explore the world. You were not tied down with the duties of ruling Inazuma. Naturally, you attracted the attention of the gods, each one of them remarking on how you inherited all the characteristic features of the Raidens.

Only the heavens above knew how you managed to become the best friend of one of the major gods, and that too Morax. But he was the reason you chose to settle down in Liyue. As time passed, your feelings for Morax, also called Zhongli by his friends, also grew more than platonic.

Now see, you knew Morax was something of a blockhead when it came to feelings. So you didn’t think much when Morax kept sending you mixed signals. You both were immortal gods after all, you had all the time in the world. You continued to hopelessly fool yourself, thinking that just perhaps, there was a chance of him loving you back.

Then came the goddess of Dust, Guizhong. A minor goddess she was, but a wonderful one. It didn’t take her too long to make her way into everyone’s hearts, including yours and Zhongli’s. While you both quickly grew into fast friends, there was just one thing that constantly irked you. Just one. It was the way she quickly grew so incredibly close to Zhongli.’

You knew that Guizhong fancied Zhongli; she confessed it to you yourself. You were forced to merely plaster a fake smile upon your face and laugh her words off.

That brought you to this day: watching Guizhong confess to Zhongli. And the amount of heartbreaking anguish when Zhongli accepted with a smile, pulling her in close, after having remained oblivious to all your advances over the decades…. It was just… You couldn’t handle it. It was too much.

You quietly sneaked away as soon as possible. And then.. And then came the coughs and the bloodstained petals. Being from Inazuma, you knew all about it of course. Hanahaki. Needless to say, you were horrified. Since that day, you somewhat avoided the duo on the pretext of the ongoing Archon War. It was here that you showed your true battle prowess as a Raiden. You alone decimated entire armies of the enemies, leaving not even ashes.

The war went on for months. You lost many allies in fighting to ensure that Makoto and Morax got seats in the Seven. Till sundown you fought without relent, showing that even a beauty can be dangerous. At night, you gave your fallen comrades the proper, respectful  farewell they deserved. By now, only the last few contenders for the heavenly thrones were left. The last opponent for Morax was the ocean god, Osial, in Guyun Stone Forest, and his followers. Recognising the serious threat he posed, you did agree to team up with Morax to eliminate him. The path for Morax to become an archon would then become clear. Through experience, you both knew that you two together were a formidable force. 

The battle was a long and exhausting one. You both started at sunrise, and barely managed to subdue him by sundown, having understood that even with their combined power, they would not be able to kill Osial. You both went back to your makeshift camp, looking forward to just resting for the night. Thank the gods you had very few coughing fits during the battle.

And yet, the moment you stepped past the protected borders, you felt that familiar eerie chill that crept up your spine. The heavy silence that hung ominously, the one that meant something was dreadfully, terribly wrong. And you were right. You took in the scene. The five Yakshas of Liyue were present, and they seemed to be sealing some sort of hexagonal structure, which was suspended above a figure. And the figure…

Was Guizhong.

Any dislike you harboured towards the Goddess of Dust disappeared as you laid your eyes upon the figure that had been turned to stone. The first and utmost thought in your mind was that something was wrong with your second best friend. Evidently Morax had come to the same conclusion. He let out a strangled sound as you both ran towards what remained of Guizhong. As you both gingerly touched her as if she was made of glass instead of stone, you knew. It was clear- Guizhong was no more.

Despite your stormy emotions, it seemed you were capable of only letting out a few tears. Morax seemed to be physically incapable of crying, yet his emotions were plainly displayed on his face for all to see. 

That night, you stayed with Morax, doing your best to comfort him, despite needing comfort yourself. Neither of you had any more tears to shed. 

That night, Morax has emerged as one of the Seven with your help, but you both lost Guizhong along the way.

~◈~

2 millenia had passed since the Archon War, and it left its scars on everyone. However, you could be lying if you said that you didn’t feel relieved that Guizhong was out of the way. You also felt guilty for feeling like that. But it was rather funny, how you managed to survive with your hanahaki for 2000 years, while most died within a few months. You supposed the reason was that Morax, who now completely lived as the mortal Zhongli in the Harbor, was seriously the absolute master at giving out mixed signals. He often unknowingly did things that lovers did, giving you hope. Yet that hope gets squashed a few days later, and the cycle continues. In all honesty, the hanahaki wasn’t really a big problem, more like a chronic disease that you had come to accept as a part of your life.

You knew that while Zhongli had mostly recovered by now, he still irrationally blamed himself for Guizhong’s death. You often told him to move on, yet he never said anything. You could see how opposed he was to the idea though. That’s why it was a surprise when he invited you to his office in the funeral parlor right after you returned from Inazuma. You could see on his face that there was something that pleased him. He first enquired about your travels and stuff, then said, “[name], do you remember how you’ve always told me to move on?” “Oh yes. Have you been thinking about that?” “Indeed. Although Guizhong will always have a special place in my heart, I believe that I am now ready to mingle again. I realised recently… that I have feelings for someone new.” 

You couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement you felt on hearing those words.Was this finally it? “That’s great Zhongli! Who is it?” “Do you know the Traveler, Lumine? It’s her. I met her a while back, when you were out on your travels. I love her so much.” He proceeded to tell you all about Lumine. He was lovestruck and you could see that. With every word he spoke, you felt your heart drop more into your stomach. You were doomed. Utterly doomed.

All this time, you’d just been deluding yourself, lying to yourself. He had never loved you, and he never would. You were struggling to keep your easy smile glued to your face as yet again, you felt something rise up your throat. You politely managed to excuse yourself, your voice coming out all scratchy and raw. Once you walked out of his cabin, you sprinted towards the confines of your home. By the time you locked yourself in, some petals had already escaped and blood was smeared across your palm. 

You were hunched over the sink, which was already full of flowers and blood within a few minutes. It hurt. Everything did, both your body and your broken heart. You knew your impending death was near, because never had your hanahaki been this severe. You couldn’t undergo the surgery because Zhongli was a massive part of your life, and simply forgetting about him would raise a barrage of questions. Plus, you still loved Zhongli too much to forget about him, despite the fact that somewhere deep down, you always knew that he’d never love you back.

~◈~

Your time was very close. The past few days had been spent isolated into the confines of your home, claiming to be exhausted from your latest journey whenever someone came to visit. Funnily enough, today was the day when Zhongli’s former love, and your former best friend, Guizhong, had died. In short, her death anniversary. Seemed it would be yours too.

You usually avoided visiting Guizhong’s memorial and burial site, which was in an isolated cave near Liyue Harbour. However today you thought it was fitting for you to pay your respects to her for the last time. And so, you dragged yourself out in the early morning, before sunrise. You left before anyone could see you, before he could see you.

By the time you are at your destination, your condition has significantly worsened due to the physical strain. It’s all you can do to respectfully place the flowers beside her memorial and lean against the wall. You began to speak to no one in particular in a cracked voice. “Hey Gui…? I hope.. You are at.. Peace… Just know that… I’ve never… hated you.. You’ve always been my.. Best friend.”

“How lucky you were… to be loved by Zhongli.”

Your throat choked up, not because of emotion, but because of another bout of bloody flowers. Not wanting to die there because he would see you, you got yourself out and into another deserted cave just beside. Not the best, but you had no choice. You had merely left a few petals at the entrance of both caves and a faint trail of blood in between.

By now, you had fallen to the ground in searing agony as flower after bloodstained flower forced its way out of your raw throat. You were lying on a bed of the flowers you yourself had coughed out.

How long it had been, you did not know. Perhaps minutes, perhaps hours. You started coughing again, not a moment’s respite. Your life force was almost completely drained. Any moment now.. You would be free.

It was then that you heard a horrified voice ring through the silence. “[Name]!”

~◈~ 

Zhongli was up at sunrise. Despite his new love, his mood was somber- it was Guizhong’s death anniversary. He had every intention to continue visiting her memorial. As usual, he sought you out. There was a rare chance that if you were in the mood, you would accompany him to pay respects to Guizhong. Yet when he knocked at your door several times and received no response, he chose to leave you alone, despite being slightly worried. You usually did respond at the very least, but he was sure you were alright,

He stopped short in front of the cave which housed Guizhong’s memorial. There was a fresh bouquet of Glaze lilies. But who brought them here? Especially since this place was practically unheard of. He took a few quick steps forward and kneeled down to inspect the bouquet. His heart lurched.

Attached to the bouquet was a small note that said, ‘To my dearest best friend, Guizhong.’ There was no name, but he recognised the handwriting well enough. [name] had already been here. Without him? Was there a reason?

His eyes were drawn to something else too. Relatively new footprints in the soil. And blood.

Blood?

His heavy footsteps echoed in the cave as he quickly walked out, following the faint trail of footprints, blood and petals. They were leading him to a nearby cave. His heart rate accelerated as he heard heavy coughing.  And behold the sight that awaited him- an utterly pretty bed of flowers and petals stained in a blood red, and someone coughing while lying on it.

“[Name]!” He cried out, completely horrified.

You curled into yourself even more on hearing his voice. All you wanted was to die in peace, why did he have to make things more difficult? Why did he have to come here? The flowers started choking and constricting your throat on their way up, ever more unrelenting, fueled by the appearance of the one who caused them. It was so hard to breathe… Just a bit more…

You felt yourself being gently lifted into someone’s strong and warm embrace. You weakly met Zhongli’s eyes, which were full of panic. You’d only seen him lose his composure like this once before, his fear more than evident on his face. “[name]- I- What happened? Please, tell me! I- I can’t lose you too!” He exclaimed frantically, feeling your life ebb away second by second, with each cough that released blood and Glaze lilies.

Your throat constricted even more, making it excessively hard to breathe. You just wanted to rest, It was all you could do to force a few broken words from your raw throat.

“...Hana..haki…” That was all Zhongli needed to know to understand. His pupils dilated in fear even more. “Who.. Who is it who made you suffer this way?” Zhongli whispered, unable to take in your completely broken state. You didn’t respond for a few moments, feeling your eyelids shut. You forced them open, not wanting to leave him hanging. “Always.. Loved you.. Always will… Be happy.. For me.. Okay? That is my last wish.” You weakly tried to reach a hand towards Zhongli, who instantly grasped it tightly in hsi, and pressed it against his face, as the realisation hit him like a truck. “What..?” He whispered softly.

Your eyes started to droop again, and you gave in, feeling nothing but qa soft ringing in your ears as your senses dulled. “[name], no, please don’t leave me!” Zhongli cried out in panic, grief and anguish, seeing you slip away from him. You simply let a small smile rest on his face as you whispered, “Just.. sleeping.. Tired.” Unable to accept your fate, he whispered, “Sleep well then, my dearest.”

But you never lived to hear that.

Because then you moved no more.

Was fate trying to mock him with [name] dying in his arms, in front of him, on the same day as Guizhong’s death? You were always there for him, always there with him, until you weren’t. And never in his immortal life was Zhongli able to forgive himself for this, knowing that he was the reason you were dead.

mm yes now hows that huh? gonna disappear for a few days now haha tags and comments are very much appreciated!

[sonofthesaiyans]

Hats off to Jean Kirstein, the Scouts' unlikeliest hero.

Honor dictates that I say a few words to honor the birthday of one of the 104th's strongest and most naturally gifted soldiers.

Jean Kirstein is a character who, at one point, I would have said had one of the most impressive arcs of any individual character in Attack on Titan. Once content to keep himself to the sidelines in service of the royal government, Jean has really come a long way from when we first met him in the early days of season one.

Jean has always been abrasive and cynical, holding on to no fantasies about the miserable world he and his friends have long been trapped in. But in spite of all he's gone through, he's shown a keen sense of judgement and natural leadership that has allowed him to survive again and again in a situation he at one point would have been all to happy to look the other way, and never turn back. In a world where insanity dominates between the Titans and humanity, Jean always seems to know what to do even when he's at an utter loss of what the outcome could be, and he's so often been a voice of reason when faced with the panic of his comrades or the zeal of his friendly rival turned mortal enemy, Eren.

His old pal Marco recognized this potential in Jean, and it seems Marco's words have resonated strongly with Jean long after his own demise. Understanding what was at stake, he took a hard look at what he signed himself on to and charged at it head on. Through and through, he's proven a dependable ally to those serving by his side and ultimately, under his own command. One of Jean's greatest assets, and perhaps in his own mind his greatest curse, is his nobility. Whatever his faults and failings, Jean has always sided with the greater good, and is one of the most incorruptible characters on Paradis. He's been pushed to his limits every bit as much as the rest of his circle......And through it all still stands tall.

By no means flawless, and I actually have some far stronger opinions about Jean in spite of the fact that I rarely ever comment on him around here.......And that's a discussion for another day.

For tonight though, gotta acknowledge the impressive track record of a guy who probably never should have been a Scout in the first place.......And somehow has lived to speak of the experience after going through Hell and back time and time again.

Seriously, Jean Kirstein would have been a worthy contender to become Commander of the Scout Regiment, or second-in-command under Hange and/or Levi. Whatever the case, he's certainly been an asset to the greater cause of freedom, and perhaps understood the meaning of what that was far better than Eren himself EVER did.

Keep moving forward as you always have, Commander Jean.

Happy Birthday to a man worthy of wearing the Wings of Freedom.

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

Oh, and one last thing; If you really do truly love Jean, then for the love of all that is good and just.........

Do NOT even think about it with the lame as hell Horseface jokes. I think the fact that I acknowledged not just Jeanmarco, but also "Jeankasa" up here is being pretty generous as it is. So please, don't push it, alright?

Besides, I can name five other characters who look more like horses than him.....

[villainintern]

🕱🕱 At UNDERHAND INCORPORATED, the world's leading supervillain corporate conglomerate, networking opportunities are many. Recruit henchmen, make enemies, forge tenuous friendships, and always be sure to collect blackmail. Just in case. ____________________________________________________

YOUR FELLOW INTERNS:

PETER HYDE interns for human resources, although he might not be totally human. Your cubicle neighbor is a geeky slack-off who (unlike you) doesn't really want to work here, but for some reason he's unable to quit. Laid-back, conflict avoidant, and generally easy to manipulate, he’s easy minion material- but his attitude belies a volatile, monstrous secret. Which can be a great asset or a major risk, depending on if you can maintain your control over him.

Appearance: Pale skin, black hair that always escapes his gel, earnest brown eyes rimmed with the harrowed look of someone who stares at screens all day. 6'5" but embarrassed about being tall, so he leans on stuff and slouches in chairs. Usually wearing cheap office attire and a novelty tie.

🫀Likes: Cozy furnished basements. Free flash computer games. Taking on a whole rotisserie chicken solo. 🚫Dislikes: Working overtime. Falling behind on payments. The bottomless, gnawing hunger.

"Tropes": Codependent coworkers, boss-henchman. Genuine friends somehow? More?

REID/RENEY SULLIVAN (gender selectable) is your nemesis, or at least they think so. An interning hero (at the rival hero company) with impressive telekinetic powers, they are nonetheless as much of an amateur as you, and so you find yourself on even footing with one of the most promising superheroes in the business. Earnest and witty, they genuinely just want to help people. Eventually, they become fixated on “figuring you out”, which can lead to them getting sucked into your schemes. That, or their meddling could be your downfall. Worst of all, they might even succeed in reforming you.

Appearance: Black skin and hair, styled into many twists that fall at different lengths around their face. Lithe, stringy runner's build. Expressive brown eyes, a wide, endearingly uneven smile.

🫀Likes: Doing good in the world. Veggie pizza. Playing smash bros with siblings. Maybe you, despite all their better instincts. 🚫Dislikes: You. The level of control their employer exerts over them. Skinny jeans.

"Tropes": Enemies to worse. Reluctant allies, bantering. Intimately charged hand-to-hand combat. Suddenly realizing your sworn nemesis is the most important and constant figure in your life.

T9-670 is a seven-foot tall ex-war machine, now interning with UnderHand's tech support department. Once a military member conscripted to the company's private security decal, its contract didn’t end when it died- the soldier’s brain was transplanted into a humanoid steel frame. T9 is doing some soul searching- it’s not totally sure if it even has one left, but it would like to have a purpose beyond fixing printers and mowing down UnderHand’s enemies with its plasma gun.

Appearance: T9's new mechanical body is imposing but graceful, seven feet of smooth interlocking steel. Its "face" is a rounded plate of dark glass. Small tubes connect to the back of its neck, carrying fluid to the brain through its artificial spine.

🫀Likes: The beautiful, almost organic curves of highway overpasses. 🚫Dislikes: Being unable to eat. It misses carbs.

"Tropes": Big huge strong shiny robot.

ELAINE FOSTER is an up-and-coming mad scientist interning as an assistant in the tech support laboratories. Although a genius prodigy, Foster otherwise has no superhuman abilities, which causes her to be overlooked by your superiors- as a result, she's become fixated on getting that elusive promotion. Exacting, calculating, and a little maniacal, Foster doesn't dole out her respect easily. But if she sees you making smart moves, you'll find her a very competent collaborator.

Appearance: Pale skin and frizzy, near-white blonde hair. Sharp, elegant, shrewd face. Grey eyes behind narrow cherry red cat-eye glasses. She usually wears her lab gear: the signature high collared white coat, black vinyl boots and gloves.

🫀Likes: A strong cup of green tea. A well-tailored pair of dress pants. Mugler, her pet lab rat. 🚫Dislikes: Temperatures above 68 degrees. Willful imbeciles. Being condescended to.

"Tropes": Icy exterior, rivals, lab partners in crime, the chemistry that comes from bonding over your obsessive shared career passions.

BLINK is technically unemployed, a rogue villain or vigilante, depending on who you ask. Completely anonymous, they wear a unique suit of tactical gear that allows them to turn completely invisible, the first of its kind. Quippy, chipper, and sauntering, Blink is an invisible superhuman that loves the spotlight- a walking contradiction. Their motives are as obscure as their identity, but they sure seem to interfere with your missions a lot. Are they sabotaging your goals, or do theirs align? Do they just like following you around? ...are they following you right now? You're pretty sure you're alone. The hallway is dead silent. And yet...

Appearance: There's no way to know. Even when they're visible, Blink is covered head to toe in tactical gear, and they seem very cautious about keeping their face concealed. It's almost like they have something to hide from you, personally.

🫀Likes: Assassinating crooked politicians. Steel-toe boots. Invisibly entering people's houses just to see what it's like in there. 🚫Dislikes: Motion sensing doors.

"Tropes": Secret identity, watching you through their sniper scope and kicking their feet around like a schoolgirl.

[darkfictionjude]

They say that small towns hide the darkest secrets. At least that’s what your mother always said about this one. You thought she meant how Father Simmons has a well-known drinking problem, how Mrs. Gladstone’s son looks more like his uncle than his father or that the mayor has been in power for 15 years because of voting fraud. Things everyone knows. Human Things.

But now as partially eaten bodies have been left in alarmingly rates all over this small town the world has no record of, you now know she meant something else.

Play as peculiar and disturbed individual surnamed Crown after the very town your ancestor founded, returning after a traumatic event two years prior that landed you in a psychiatric hospital. As your comeback coincides with a rapid increase of disappearances you find yourself embroiled in a town conspiracy, a past that’s more alive than ever and the ever shifting self interested motives of those who claim to be your allies.

Who can you trust? What’s the truth behind your family? What are things that you see in the dark?

Sometimes it’s hard to tell what shapes monsters come in.

Customize your MC from looks to gender

Reveal your sister’s disappearance

Rely on a group of complimentary polar opposites to find out the mystery and save your life

Befriend or romance a choice of three from enemies to lovers, childhood friends or an eternal admirer

Rating: 18+

Crown - Playlist

You. A person with some personal issues, some family issues and some murder issues.

Imre Duran - Playlist

Quintessential good-boy-next-door. The most most-liked teenager in town. As son of the mayor and pageant queen, Imre has an image cultivated by him and maintained through his status which is why his back door activities are his cherished secrets. He is rather eager to help you… isn’t he?

Nia Mir - Playlist

In the very real and present high school hierarchy Nia would be one of the nobles. As a wannabe doctor with a loathed father and an absent mother her dream is to leave behind this backwater town and all it’s weird phenomena that she doesn’t care to know more of. She liked you, once.

Lorcan Stark - Playlist

Every town needs its bad boy and so Lorcan has aimed to be as every bit worthy of that title. The shunned son of a murderer and his victim, he is not really thought of as having a future beyond prison and petty crime especially in a town like this. You don’t remember a time when he didn’t hate you.

Salvatore Crown

Your brother. The heir to whatever fortune your family has left and the only one of the family who seems to like you.

Orla Crown - Playlist

Your sister. No one ever knew what she thinking, a closed box full of unknowns. You knew she kept things, especially from you.

Mayor Duran

Seems like every other politician. Oddly enough no one ever really sees him, an entity watching over the town.

Mother

She never acted like one to any of her children. She’s never sober anymore.

Mrs. Mir

Disappeared years ago without a trance. No one remembers her first name. Was thought to have been clinically insane.

Demo (updated 12/01) | Spotify | Patreon

6 of 13 episodes released