#he is so in love. he is so pathetic. he'd give up his immortality for her if she asked him to

[living-in-a-fantasia]

Rodion

[randomdragonfires]

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm [One Shot]

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

WARNINGS | 18+; Mild Smut.

WORD COUNT | 9.6k

A/N | Yet another repost, yay! This one was written based off an ask sent to me by @wonderbias and beta read by the loml @humanpurposes

Their union began as a fragile, delicate one.

By all accounts, Aemond Targaryen was a fine man that any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms would be proud to be with, should he– a skilled dragonrider, a scholar, a respectful man of honor, a prince worthy of his name and blood– choose to take her to wife. 

If only he was not so stoic and dull, they said. The very jovial little lady of Highgarden will be bored of him in moments!

‘Twas the first of many whispers he heard of his apparent inadequacy with regards to his impending nuptials and marriage, and even though it killed him, he could not bring himself to disagree. The woman that he was to marry �� the beautiful, kind, ladylike wisp of a girl that was to be entrusted to him– was a fair maiden who lit up any chamber she graced with her presence, a stark contrast to how he seemed to darken those that he stalked into.

Charming girl like that, she will hate him, they said. The poor thing is probably scared.

Every lady dreamed of chivalrous knights and charming princes, and Aemond knew very well that he was far from being either. They dreamed of charming men who would immortalize them in song, whose looks could thaw the hearts of the coldest women in an instant. Aemond knew very well that the Gods had refused him the chance to even try with her– what with their allowance of his mutilation at a tender, young age. 

Even with just one eye, he saw many possibilities but to his dismay, he did not imagine any outcome would be favorable to him. With the scar he carried on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders, Aemond was never meant to be the man that his intended deserved. 

And so, he decided that he would keep her at arm's length and in consequence, save his pride. He'd reject her before she rejected him. He may not know it now, but matters of the heart are fickle– and to the utter disappointment of his pride, his little lady rose was very easy to love. 

He would not be caught dead pathetically pining after a woman who would soon be his. He would not.

And so, their courtship remained devoid of romance and scandal. His family was made privy to each of their highly appropriate conversations, with them taking turns in chaperoning their walks through the gardens. 

There was nothing that he wished to share, for he did not want to lose too much. He did what was expected of him, and she did the very same. Soon, there was respect, admiration, and a whole host of burgeoning feelings that Aemond tried hard to suppress - feelings that he clearly did not see in her eyes as she dared to look into his.

How could she feel anything for a stoic, dull, one-eyed man like him?

As he draped the red and black cloak over her shoulder and pledged to be her man of liege and limb, he told himself that he would not try. He would not give into fantasies, only to be met with rejection from a woman who was too good for him; one that may realize it soon enough as well.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. He would feed himself to the dragons before admitting to someone else being better than him, let alone be rejected by that same person. He was certainly not going to woo her, not when he knew that he would only be met with contempt and disgust.

It did not matter how badly he wanted to. He would not allow himself to succumb to such idyllic daydreams. He would not.

When night fell and the wedding feast was in full swing, his new good-father was the only one who could give his brother a run for his money with how deep he was in his cups. It was obvious how the wine-induced stupor affected the fat lord Tyrell as he bellowed for his daughter and his new good son to take the lead and join in the dancing and merriment.

Aemond was ready to retch at the thought, but what stopped him from making his irritation  clear was the possibility that she may want to dance. His wife. He had seen her dance before– as graceful as an otherworldly swan. She had a better grasp at frivolous courtly affairs than he did. 

His wife may want to dance. His wife, his wife, his wife. A little rose, his.

He shuffled his feet under the cloth-covered long table and allowed his one eye to train over his clothed boots. In spite of all the dancing lessons he had taken with Helaena, Aemond had never indulged before– and now, he was expected to entertain his bride each time a song played. The thought made him want to press his feet into the ground further than he already has, in hopes that perhaps the ground would swallow him whole.

His view of the dancing crowd had been taken from him by half along with his eye. Without the luxury of complete vision, he could not dance without bumping into everyone that was on his blind side. Now, he would have to– if she wanted to. 

He thought he could say no, but he feared that if he were to look her in the eyes, he'd never be able to. Perhaps that was why he had refused to even look at her throughout the ceremony, despite her many admirable– yet failed– attempts to catch his line of sight and share a smile.

It was her meek, mouse-like voice that brought him out of his nervous trance. “We do not have to," she said, the words falling out of her lips like a song.

“You like to dance, my lady,” he said.

“But you do not, my prince. It takes two.” Her surprisingly understanding words were followed by a timid smile, one that threatened to rip through his defenses and get to him.

In the crowded throne room, as his new bride sets aside her happiness to accommodate his preferences, Aemond worried that his self-imposed distance from her may not last too long if she kept offering him kind glances and sweet smiles– no matter how forced and dutiful he knew them to be.

He had much to lose; his pride, his heart. He would not risk it, even if she was seemingly easy to love. He would not. He would not. He would not.

After all, Aemond Targaryen had his pride. 

Soon after, her drunk nuisance of a father had called for the bedding. Aemond did nothing as his trembling bride was ushered away by the handmaidens and ladies, each of them wriggling her jewelry off as she stumbled in her steps before they carried her off.

Should he have asked for a private bedding? In hindsight, he believed he wronged her by throwing her to the mercies of the court in her vulnerability. Equally, he did not want to attempt a show of compassion– not when she may not even welcome it from the one-eyed fiend of a husband that she was stuck with.

When he walked into the chambers in his loose linen shirt and breeches, his breath hitched in his throat. Helaena had once told him that the Septas refer to women’s maidenheads as flowers. “Beautiful, ripe and ready for the plucking,” she had said, keeping her nose pointed upward in her imitations. He'd never given the words much thought. 

Until now.

There she was. His wife, his flower, his rose, ready for plucking, in her translucent white shift and now untamed hair, like a fae in a dream. How could she possibly be his? How could she possibly be happy with a man as monstrous as him for a husband? 

Her eyes, wide and fearful, flittered about his face, in his mind an expression of her repulsion. It pained him to think she did not even give him a chance.

But she was accommodating about my not wanting to dance… 

Perhaps she did like to dance; just not with him. 

These unsaid words and subsequent misunderstandings plagued their wedding night. Both believed the other did not desire them. 

That night, she offered her flower to him– as is her duty– and he took great care in taking it from her. He made sure she was pliant, so that when he took it, she would be as glad and thrilled as he was, regardless of how well-hidden his happiness was. 

He may have grimaced in disgust at Aegon's vulgar demonstrations and lessons about the pleasures of the marital bed, but he was thankful as he heard her moan out his name in a silent scream while she convulsed around his fingers. The silent sounds of her choked out moans and the heat engulfing his fingers may have very well been enough for Aemond to find release, and he reminded himself quickly that she will not want him when they're done. How could she, deformed as he was?

And so, he stopped wanting to be good for her, and simply endeavored to get it done with.

She was only more than willing to allow him to take her flower. If he was not so preoccupied with his own insecurities, he may have seen that it had gone past duty for her. Her loud moans proved the fact, and left little room for dispute (or doubt, in the minds of the prying ears that stayed close to the doors of their chambers, and the sharp eyes of the council who were now shuffling out of their seats).

He inched into her, and her tears and turned face only seemed to make it harder for him. Was he so beyond hope that she could not even look? What was it? Had he hurt her? He did not ask, lest he risk finding out that he was a disappointment. So he lost himself, drowned in his own head as he mechanically moved in and out, in and out, in and out. 

Duty. Duty. Duty.

If he had not been so preoccupied with tearing his own being to shreds in his mind, he may have heard her moans as the bright pink tip of his cock hit a rough spot in her, allowing her pleasures and experiences she did not believe she would ever know. He may have known that she desired him, just as he did her.

His self-deprecating thoughts couldn't have been farther from the truth– he may not have realized it that night, but he would soon enough.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the first ever flower she gave him– whether she chose to see it that way or not– came to him on their wedding night, in the form of her maidenhead.

Tourneys were a time of celebration for her.

There was something to be said about the romance of watching men ask women for favors and fight with all the might and grace that they possess. She had often dreamed that a dashing knight or a courteous prince would perhaps approach her for her favor, and then perhaps crown her Queen of Love and Beauty. If she was lucky, the man would court her too.

The man she married was the antithesis of all that she hoped a tourney would bring.

Her husband was not a bad man by any means– no. He was a good and respectful husband, slightly removed and isolated for her outward nature, but she did not mind. There were worse men to be married to, and even if he never went out of his way to be there for her, he certainly treated her well when they were in each other’s presence.

She tried with him, Gods bless her. 

She would try to catch his eye at the supper table, or watch him train in hopes that he would meet her watchful gaze once or twice. She would watch in a sleepy haze as he woke early in the morn, long before she had the strength or consciousness to wish him a good day, hoping he would turn to do the same. He never did.

More often than not, a curt nod and a wavering glance was all she’d get.  Still there were brief, hopeful moments that kept her active in her pursuit to build a friendship with her husband.

She would have done something absolutely obnoxious— acts that would have him sneering if it was someone else– and she’d see it. That little hint of a smile, waiting to bubble through the surface, just by the corner of his pink lips, that she would have missed if she blinked. Each time there was a tenuous beginning of a hesitant smile, she felt a tiny sliver of hope.

He was not so intimidating to her now as he was in the initial days of their union– no. In a little corner of her mind, she acknowledged that fact– that is what helped her find his hand and hold it tight in nervousness, before she could even comprehend the intimacy of the act.

The knight who had just taken a harsh tumble from his horse was carried away by servants, with his head beaten bloody and hands hanging limp by his side. If she did not know better, she would have thought him dead.

The champion then raised his hands up in victory. Thunderous clapping sounds overshadowed all else around her, but she could not bring herself to join. She was still stunned by how the other knight had fallen, and was yet to let go of Aemond’s hand.

She felt the bile rise in her throat, so she brought her other hand to her chest and bowed her head down, a feeble attempt at keeping the vomit at bay. It was awhile until she managed to catch her breath again, and by then the celebrations had moved on from celebrating the champion to the crowning of his Queen of Love and Beauty.

The eldest Lady Baratheon smiled coyly as she received the wreath of winter roses, followed by a chaste kiss to her cheek. The crowd gasped at how brazen the act was, with neither of them being married, but the high of winning makes men do the most peculiar things, she supposed. In the back of her mind, regardless of how uneasy she felt, she wished– desperately. 

How she wished it was her. 

A childish fantasy really. What was a publicly gifted crown of flowers worth in the face of what she had? She was a Princess of the realm now, married to a skilled dragonrider from a family of illustrious history and blood. Any children they may have will be immortalized in the annals.  Nothing. A crown of flowers was worth nothing when compared to what she had– or at least, that is what she would tell herself.

And yet, she craved the romance. She had always enjoyed the idea of being loved and cherished. Her husband respected her, and if she was feeling bold, she’d say he liked her– but he certainly did not love her. That much she was certain of. When she naively wished that he’d crown her, she asked if he was going to enter the lists. He had sharply turned so quickly that she feared she had angered him.

“I don’t give a sh…” He had sighed before speaking again, as though he felt tested. “I do not care for tourneys.” The sharpness in his voice had hurt her, and she did not speak of it again.

Their marriage was a decent one– but it held none of the love she hoped to have, despite all her attempts.

Did he find her so disagreeable?

All of a sudden, his hand felt cold to the touch and she let go of him like he burned her. The heat came back to her hand just as it showed on her cheeks, and his had turned cold from having lost her touch so abruptly.

“I’d like to get some fresh air, husband,” she said, and rose before he could even ask if she needed him to accompany her.

Her quick walk took her to the tent where the court ladies had been sitting, and she had stepped in right in time to hear them gossip– about her husband.

“Well he must keep it on while they… you know! It can be jarring to look at, I’m sure it is!”

“It must be terrible to see it up close all the time. I can hardly look at him from across the chamber!”

He is certainly unnerving. It does make you wonder though, do you think they actually…” the woman lowered her voice to match the vulgarity that was to follow. “Do you think they actually fuck? She cannot possibly want to, and she is not with child either…”

“Well, does it really matter if she wants to? He’s a Prince, and her husband. He’ll take his pleasure regardless.”

Regardless of where she and her husband stood, she would not stand for their marriage to become fodder for court gossip. If she stayed quiet for any longer while these empty-headed women berated her husband, she would be insulting him herself.

“Might I ask what is so amusing?”  she said with sharp eyes and a tilted head. The sweat on their faces upon her arrival was apparent, and so was their nervousness.

“My Lady, we were just–”

“Princess,” she corrected.

“Yes of course, Princess. We were just–”

“Making presumptions about my marriage?” 

“No… we just…”

“Don’t deny it,” she seethed, anger looking completely foreign on a soft, comely face like hers. Her nostrils flared and her nose went red in her current state, but there was no way she could stop now. 

“The next time you feel the need to comment on such matters , perhaps you will all learn to remind yourself that he is a Prince of the realm and I am his wife! There will be suitable punishment, and you will all be dismissed from court at my pleasure, disgraced and husbandless. Now, we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Her words were cutting and sharp, and they had the younger ladies bowing their heads in fear almost immediately.

“I’ll have you all know that unlike the other men of the court, Prince Aemond’s scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. His bravery only makes him more handsome to me.”

She then fixed her attention onto the married lady of the bunch and delivered a questionable blow that she would certainly feel bad about later. “If you’ve been led to believe that the man takes his pleasure from his wife even if she does not want to, then perhaps your marriage is a lot worse than I thought. Your husband must have no regard for your wants, unlike mine. And for that, I am truly sorry.”

She did not wait for them to respond as she gathered her skirts and walked out of the tent, feeling largely annoyed and satisfied to an extent. But as she began her walk back, the fear of news of her anger reaching her husband hit her like a harsh and heavy wave.

Would he call her insolent and disgraceful? Has she damaged her marriage more than it already has been?

She did not have to wait long for her answer, for Aemond had been just a few steps behind her, watching the entire scene unfold. The angry flush on her face left her as quickly as it had come, replaced by a skittish nervousness that led to her shuffling her feet as she stood before him, at a complete loss for words.

She swallowed the spit gathering in her mouth, throat bobbing as her head remained facing down to the floor, awaiting a scolding from him for her absolutely inexcusable behavior; her husband was a man who knew his courtesies, after all. He could not possibly be happy with how she carried herself and disappointed him.

“You do not look well. Let me walk you to our chambers,” was all he said before he led her away with a hand on the small of her back.

She remained worried that he was perhaps leading them to privacy and silence so he could punish her while being undisturbed. She could not have been farther from the truth.

She expected him to scream at her, forget all the courtesy that he had shown her and throw his words at her without care. What she was not prepared for, was for him to hold her chin between his thumb and index fingers, pulling her face up to meet his.

He curiously inspected her, almost as though her little show of anger thoroughly amused him. She would not be surprised if it did– she had never been so outward in her anger in the two months that they had been married; this was a completely new side to her that he was now privy to.

“What was that, wife?” His words were measured and cut. 

“They…” She was stunned to find that, despite her tongue becoming loose in moments of anger,  it was hard for her to speak right now. So, she chose to gulp once more and tried to look someplace else. The uncertainty in his sharp, one-eyed violet gaze was becoming too much for her to bear– but Aemond did not give up easily. He kept her head held in place as she desperately waited for the words to come to her.

“They were being crude, and insulting you.”

He looked at her for a moment, his sharp gaze refusing to waver as the sunlight pierced through the glass windows of their chamber. He then let go of her, and handed her a goblet of wine to calm her clearly unsteady senses. He watched as she took little sips from the chalice, the restless turning of the wheels in his mind apparent on his face. 

Soon after, he made up a sham of a reason about having to leave when the cheering crowds became louder and louder. She nodded and continued to sip, completely oblivious to the change of heart that her husband was having as she wondered why he brought her back to their bed.

She did not know the thoughts that now ran fast and surely in his mind. She did not know that he thought his eye had cost him a chance at a happy marriage with her. She had no idea of knowing how conflicted he felt at the new realization, for his sculpted face gave nothing away.

He turned to face her with a hand on the door.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

She nodded and smiled meekly while he stalked back to the festivities.

He held his hands tightly behind him as he tried to make sense of how light his heart felt in comparison to the rest of him. 

Back in the chamber, she blushed. For all her worry that he may have been disappointed, she had been completely floored by how he had responded– he was thankful. She berated herself for not considering the possibility– and smiled at the realization that for all her husband’s prowess as a warrior, in times like these,  he needed a champion too. 

That night, Aemond burned the midnight oil while reading in the library, trying to still his racing heart and make sense of how it leapt at newfound thoughts of his little wife. 

Across the Holdfast, in the soft candlelight of their shared chambers, she sat on her husband’s dear chair, looking at her handiwork– an embroidered silk tourney favor, with a little rose.

Her husband may not care for tourneys, but making the favor allowed her the luxury of thinking that should the possibility of him willingly entering the lists come around, he would do so with her gift on his lance. Mayhaps he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty too– the thought makes her blush.

She would give it to him should he ever choose to partake someday. Until then, it would be safely hidden away in her shelves, amidst her gowns and other possessions.

Flowers have came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the second flower that was intended for him– despite the fact that she was yet to give it to him– came to him on the day of the the twins’ name day tourney, in the form of a rose, embroidered onto a tourney favor. 

They have come to enjoy each other's company.

Her coming to his defense while expecting nothing in return had lit a fire in Aemond that he could not seem to quell. What he believed she had rejected him over, she had actually taken to being proud of. What he had believed was his one big, obvious and visible fatal flaw, was something that she had taken to holding in high regard.

I’ll have you lot know that unlike the other men of the court, his scar came to him along with the largest dragon in the world. And his bravery only makes him more handsome to me.

Her words rang in his mind like the definite tolling of the Great Bell at the Royal Sept. With each chime, her assertiveness on the matter came back to linger in his thoughts, he had fallen for her – bit by bit. 

Feelings had always been a conundrum to Aemond, one that he did not entirely understand or even want to. But now, with a wife who warmed him and his heart slowly but surely, with her lovely smiles and nervous face, he found that he would like some certainty in the face of all that was uncertain in his heart.

He did not know if he loved her just yet. But what he did know was that, at the pace that she had set for them, it may be a very short while before he does. His wife. His wife, his wife, his wife. 

His, his, his.

Coming to terms with having a wife that actually desired his company– and him, surprisingly enough– had spurned his attempts to bring some sort of intimacy to their marriage. Gods knew that she had tried, only to be rebuffed rudely by him in the initial days of their marriage. It was a time that he now felt deep regret and shame for, one that he would not rest until he had made right. 

He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

He did not know how to be the charming prince from a bard’s songs. He did not know how to make women laugh like Aegon; be as sweet and kind as Helaena; or as chivalrous and perfect as Daeron. 

But what he did know was respect. Aemond understood respect as something that was earned by everyone around him, but to his wife, it should have been unconditional. It should have come to her the day he had cloaked her and made her his– but it did not. Now, he intended to make it right.

He needed her to see that he wanted to try– which is how he found himself with her on his arm, as they walked hand in hand through the corridors of Maegor’s Holdfast towards their chambers. Ah yes, hand in hand. Another one of the little joys that he savored like it was his last day alive. 

Their initially cold marriage had also been fueled by his blatant refusal to simply be near her, much less touch her. Why would she have wanted to be touched by a one-eyed monster, such as the likes of him? 

But the moment he realized that she did not consider him so– not in the least– led to a warmth seeping through his blood, making him crave her so much that his heart hurt. If she did not mind it, why must he not exercise his liberties? And if there was some joy to be derived from it, why would they not want to indulge?

And so he had begun. A stolen touch here, a featherlight graze there. 

His huge, calloused hand, seemed to be always holding her dainty one as he accompanied her throughout their time in the castle; on the small of her back as they maneuvered through feasts and dances; around her waist as they closed the distance between each other in their sleep, with her back to his chest; clutching onto her thigh to keep her in place for when she turned around and draped her tiny leg upon his waist.

His hands, all over her.

It was not just these fleeting, quick touches that Aemond had grown to enjoy. With their bond growing stronger with each passing moment, he had realized that their marital duties were simply not duties anymore. They had gone from believing that the other had tolerated their presence, to trying their level best so that the other would know how much they desired them. The growth of their marriage was evident in how their carnal indulgences had evolved.

Where he had held himself to hover over her so as to not facilitate any unnecessary touches, he had now taken to covering her entire being with his own. His hands around her hip as he pounded into her; her hands on his chest as the tip of her fingers grazed and pinched at his nipples. His hands in her hair as he mouthed at her heaving breast; her hands around him as she held onto him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. His hands on her cunt as he drew peak after peak from her before thrusting himself into her; her hands around his cock as she pumped him before impaling herself by straddling him, just the way he liked. 

Their sounds of pleasure had been held back and muffled in the beginning, but now they were uninhibited sounds taken by the wind, made with the intent of being heard and making desires known.  

Oh yes, their marriage had grown. 

This is what Aemond had been pondering as he led her through, with servants making their way for the young prince and princess as she held onto her husband with one hand, and a piece of rolled parchment and some charcoal on the other. He enjoyed their touches now, and it made his heart soar that he did not have to doubt her want for him either. 

Yes, they could make something out of this.

“How was your time in the gardens, wife?” It made him happy that with the growth of their marriage, she had taken to exercising her liberties. So, when she had come to him requesting charcoal and bound parchment so she could begin drawing again, he was only happy to oblige. 

“Good. I managed to sit and watch the flowers flit about in the wind for a time, and I drew a bit as well. Then the court ladies came to join me as they…”

Aemond listened to his wife as he sat himself on his chair by the hearth, most intently, and with the utmost concentration that he could muster. He could not bring himself to make selfless romantic declarations of love, or speak to her more than he was able. But he could listen, and that is what he would do. 

Not a word unheard, not a moment missed. He needed her to see that he wanted to try.

She prattled on and on about her day, and how the court ladies had gossiped about each other when they thought the other wasn’t listening. He listened to the way her voice heightened when her recollections were happy, and he noted the way she frowned when she was in disapproval. He observed how her eyes widened at shocking narrations, and how her hands seemed to move like they had a life of their own. 

He kept observing, losing himself in his newfound knowledge of her, her, her… and it was not until she stood close to him, her body slotted between his legs as she held her hands behind her back that he realized she had stopped speaking.

“Go on.”

He did not expect to be given something, not when his name day had just passed. But that is exactly what happened. 

“For you,” she said. With her raised eyebrows and coy smile, she managed to place  a parchment roll into his hand. Aemond made note of how her head faced down and her feet shuffled as she stood in wait for his approval.

He unrolled the parchment, careful to not cause even a stray tear at the edges. His eyes raked over the drawing, one of clear skill and years of training of the highest level– one befitting a lady.

“I shall treasure it, thank you.” 

She smiled at his acceptance, and he nodded. He was not a smiling man, but he hoped that she knew how much he appreciated these gestures. He hoped that their marriage had grown enough for her to notice his quirks, just as he had made note of hers.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the third flower that she had given him was a charcoal sketch of a rose, into which she had poured her heart and soul.

As the days passed, their mornings became brighter.

While she had hoped that the initial days of their marriage would have some semblance of love, and if not, at least affection to some extent, her hopes had been quickly dashed with the closed off and curt behavior that her husband seemed to have made his own. Neither did he ever wish her a good morrow upon sunrise, nor did he kiss her goodnight like in the songs.

But now, there was more.

Where there was coldness, there was now warmth. It was not heat, not like wildfire, no– it was warmth, like from the calm blaze of their hearth. She might not have awoken to a smile, no– her husband was not a smiling man– but she always woke to an arm snaked over her breasts, pressing into her. Where there was distance, oceans between them, there was now a shared intimacy, one that they had both been quietly happy about. She was not put to sleep with a kiss, but whenever she slept on the chaise waiting for him to arrive, he now ensured that she was put into comfortable clothes and carried to their bed with care. 

He may not have cared for her in the beginning, but she knew he did now. Her husband was not a romantic man, but his small gestures were enough to make her feel happy and content.

The shift in their dynamic was not just visible in their daytime activities, but in the passions of their marriage bed as well. On the first night that they had coupled, he had been careful, experimental, doubtful. But as the days went by, he had become surer, rougher… insatiable.

She enjoyed this new side to him. She enjoyed being the woman that belonged to a fierce prince, the one that he so clearly desired. She enjoyed being held by him as he moved her up and down his cock, his head buried in her breasts as he breathed in the heady smell of sweat and sex. She enjoyed being impaled by him, her small body being split into two, all while having him whisper words of appreciation in her ears. 

My little wife, my little flower. Made for me… only for me, he would say. Tell me who this cunt belongs to, he would growl, hands slapping her little nub over and over until she caught her breath, found her voice again and appeased him.

You! Gods… to you, my prince, she would whine, holding his hand in place, hoping he would fuck her with his fingers once more, just the way she liked.

It came as no surprise to her that ever since they had become welcome to each other’s affections, they had been a lot more active in their marriage bed– so much so that the lewd moans and loud curses had become court gossip.

When she had addressed the matter with him once soon after they had fucked, Aemond had smiled, albeit darkly– the only kind of smile that suited him. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, he had said. His insinuation that she was now a dragon too, all while his warm breath fanned her neck and his large hands squeezed her backside, was all she needed to quell her worries.

And of course, as was the natural order of these things, she was now with child.

She had been overjoyed when she had found out, and a tad relieved too. The court ladies whispering about her womb was not something she appreciated– their assumptions about her being barren, even less. So when she found out, she insisted that she be the one to break the news to her husband– her time as an expectant mother would never completely be her own, given the station she had now married into. 

But this, this moment could be hers and his. It would be theirs alone.

And so, she sat in wait at the training grounds, watching him as he expertly maneuvered his sword and slashed at his mentor, Ser Cole. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge, slash. Dodge, lunge–

Ser Cole had bested him, having noticed the predictability in his movements. Aemond of course, being the headstrong man that he was, refused to give up. The anger in his face at being won over in a fight did not escape her, and she would be lying if she said it did not awaken desire in her once more. Before she could think further however, one of the lords in the audience had piped up. 

“Perhaps the Prince would benefit from a token of luck from his dear lady wife!” He said, and the watching crowd around them seemed to agree as they cheered and whistled. Aemond was flummoxed, not knowing how to cope with being faced with the topic of his wife while in the middle of a fight. It was only then that he noticed her, red-faced and smiling as she was– before he could say anything, she had taken the lead.

“I’m afraid I’ve come empty handed, my lord. I’ve nothing to offer him right now!” She quipped with a smile. It had warmed him to know that she was jovial enough for the two of them, allowing him the luxury of staying quiet as she became his champion during situations like these.

“Ah well, he knows you’re here now, Princess! If that does not add to his fire, I do not know what will!”

Perhaps it was her presence, or it was his own prowess as a swordsman. But Aemond was quick to come through this time around. The crowds cheered for their Prince, and so did the man who had taught him to be all that he was.

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Cole said. He patted her dragon prince on his shoulder and walked over to where the swords were arranged. Aemond quickly followed in reverence to his teacher, one that he did not freely give to most. Soon after, the crowds had dispersed, and she watched as his slender, tall form stalk towards her.

“Since when do you frequent the training grounds, wife?”

“Can a wife not seek her husband out when she wants to?” 

She could not have imagined rhetorics like these tumbling out of her mouth in the initial days of their union. But they were now closer than they had ever been, and she had discovered that it would not hurt to take initiative, especially given how quiet of a man her husband could be.

He was not the charming prince from the books or the songs, but she certainly loved who he was– inquisitive, considerate and respectful.

“Hm. Perhaps.”

Their walk back to their apartments was a slow and quiet one, with her knowing that he preferred his moments of quiet soon after his training. They soon settled into the solar, with the food spread out for them to break their fast.

As was his habit, Aemond stripped himself of his clothes as she checked the water in the tub with the tips of her fingers, water rippling as her hands moved. He was quick to step in and let his hands rest on either side of the tub, his legs ramrod straight but slowly loosening up as she ran a washcloth over him with a gentle softness that is most unlike him.

Her hands glided over his chest, arms and he caught hold of her when her hands moved to clean his neck, beckoning her to come closer. “My dutiful little flower, hm? Come to assist her husband and answer his every beck and call.”

“I am nothing, if not dutiful.” She said, playful smile teasing him as her breasts threatened to spill out of the neckline of her dress– causing his cock to half-harden at the sight. She kissed his cheek and set the washcloth down, hands traveling to his alabaster hair as she ran her fingers through it, allowing her wet hands to trudge through. When she was done, he was quick to pull at her hand from his side, causing her to bend to meet him, eyes to eye.

“You have a council meeting to get to, husband. Now is not the time.” 

She knew very well what he wanted. It was what she wanted too– which is precisely why her own protests meant absolutely nothing to her as she gave in, dress riding up to her thighs and billowing wet in the water as she straddled him. Her cunt was already soaked for him, and he was hot and ready from all the energies that training seemed to have put into him. She rocked her hips forward and backward, adjusting to his girth, while sighing and breathing at the feeling of having him in her. It did not matter how many times he’d taken her, she would never get used to feeling so full. 

Soon enough, he had her held harshly by her waist in a bruising grip, his teeth nibbling at her sensitive nipples as he moved her up and down, up and down, up and down. The water crashed out of the tub like waves crashing onto shore and she was quick to fall apart in a mix of pain and pleasure, moaning his name in her broken voice, followed by a silent scream. His release followed soon after, cock twitching in her as he drew her closer, closer and closer still. When she felt his cock soften after a time, she got up and he let her, following close behind. 

“You fought well today, husband.” She said, in a feeble attempt to coerce a conversation from him as they sat at the table. He was a man of silence, and she was not. He did not prefer it, but she would try anyway - because there were times when he indulged her.

“Hm. Thank you.”

The smell of cut fruit was intoxicating to her, more so than usual. She had heard of women craving peculiar kinds of food during their time as expectant mothers, so she supposed that this may have to do with the little dragon that she now grew in her belly. The rest of their time eating moved in a swift silence– a comfortable one. The only sounds they heard were of the servants in the corridors and the birds chirping from out the window.

When they finished, the trays were taken away and he got up, ready to leave to sit in on the council meeting that his grandfather had called him for. He was halfway out the door after nodding to her when she took his hand, and he stopped.

Her hands held onto his as tightly as they could, and she was skittish as she continued to look down at the floor. By now, he knew her quirks well enough to know that she did that only when she wanted to say something.

“Go on.” He urged her as his other hand reached for her too.

She drew in a sharp breath as she bit her lip. “I… I am with child, husband.”

She did not know what to expect from him of her news– but his silent sigh and slight smile as his hands reached down to cover her belly in his hold is enough of a reaction. “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude and happiness made obvious– to her, even if not to anyone else. She did nothing but smile as his forehead met hers in a soft touch– their touches were always passionate and rough while in the privacy of their chambers, so it was peculiar for her to be treated this way. She found that she enjoyed it, just as much as she enjoyed being roughly handled by him.

She then stretched the fingers of one hand, revealing a little silk patch, a little tourney favor with a rose stitched on it. A flower, from his little flower.

“I know you do not prefer tourneys, but… it is my hope that you would at least keep it with you while you train.”

His hands ran over the soft silk, fingers tracing the intricate patterns that she had clearly taken her time with. He was quick to smoothen it out and pocket it, following it with a kiss to her lips. 

“Thank you, for everything.” 

The favor was only meant for the training grounds. But a week later, when she found it peeking out of his pocket while they walked around the gardens, she smiled. Soon, she found out that he kept it with him all day.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fourth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of a favor with an embroidered rose, one that he kept on his person at all times.

There was something to be said about the comforts of silence.

Her husband was not a smiling man, nor was he an ardent conversationalist. Being a woman who leaned towards being both, she had begun their marriage with the intent of treading lightly, lest she annoy him or risk having him dismiss her halfway through. And she did try; Gods knew that she did. 

Royal marriages were a sacred duty– those held in its sanctity would have to hold themselves to a higher standard, no matter how much it hurt them. With that being said, she was eternally thankful for Aemond understanding her preferences and trying to meet her halfway. She had been prepared for a man who would coldly dismiss her and her wants, but she had not been prepared for one that would actually want her.

One of the greatest pains of being born a noblewoman, she supposed, was that happiness in itself, was a privilege– one that she wished was not as such. She wished for it to be an easy thing to have, and as such, understood that she had been blessed with a quiet and peaceful marriage - one that did not take from her more than she was willing to give. It did not matter how many times she thought it over– she never failed to be as grateful as she was at the first realization, many moons ago. 

These were her thoughts as she accompanied her husband in the library. Aemond sat opposite her, on the other side of the table with his finger running over the texts of the Summer and Winter Annals, deeply engaged in the knowledge that the book had to offer on the now lost Kingdom of Sarnor, once a famed trade partner of Valyria. 

The fresh assortment of flowers lay haphazardly on her side of the bench, while she worked towards entwining them all onto the coir to make a crown. She often stole a glance at her husband as she repeatedly adjusted herself on her seat, one that was bigger than her usual one - to accommodate her, and the babe that she now carries. 

An heir, a royal heir. There is dragon blood in you now, he had said. 

She felt it, what with her babe’s constant reminders - boy or girl, the kicks were hard and swift, and it never failed to take her by surprise.

Aemond was a very fast reader, she gathered. His pages turned a lot faster than hers did, and his eyes never stuck to one part of the parchment for long - they flitted about and were restless, aiding him in his desire to learn as much as he can in the least amount of time. They have been married for half a year by now, and yet she manages to learn something new about him every day.

Her deft fingers worked through the stems of the flowers, piercing the sharp ends of the coir through them. In and out, in and out, in and out, she went - establishing a pattern that she ended up memorizing, whether she was cognizant of it or not.

Aemond stood up as he noticed a guard waiting near the doors, summoning him on behalf of the King. Her crown was now completely done, and she admired her handiwork as she twirled it in her finger and smiled. Aemond was now speaking to the guard as she ran the tip of her fingers over the petals. She brought it closer to her nose to smell them - the flowers were not as fragrant as they were once before, but there was a faint scent that she adored. 

He nodded, and she could not help but smile again as he approached her. It struck her harder with each moment, how the Gods had blessed her with him - him with his infinite knowledge, calm disposition and otherworldly beauty. She wondered if the babe she carried would look like him - she hopes, hopes and hopes that they would.

He took the crown of flowers in his hands and handled it with the same care that she put into making it. It looked thoroughly out of place, yet so at home in his hands - much like herself.

A mildly happy lift at the edge of his lips caused a sharp dimple - one that made him look harsh, content and menacing at the same time. She may have wished for a Prince from the songs all the moons ago - but right now, she could not help but think that she had been blessed with someone greater, even if she knew that he did not believe it himself. 

He placed the crown atop her head, crowning her. She remembered wishing he would crown her Queen of Love and Beauty at the twins’ name day tourney - but at this moment, as his fingers glided over her smooth hair to set the crown of white roses into place, she was happier than she could have ever been at any tourney.

“Escort the Princess safely to our chambers,” he ordered, after rubbing her growing stomach and giving her a kiss on her temple before going to meet the King. She stood slowly, and noticed that one unused and withering flower had been left behind. The air from outside the castle gushed through the windows, and it was purely by instinct that she grabbed it by the stem and placed it inside the pages of Aemond’s book before the pages flew - so it would be marked and he could begin where he left off if he so wished.

Long after her exit, Aemond came back to his bench after finishing his meeting with the King. He noticed the protruding stem, and he could not help but feel the warmth coarse through his chest as he opened the tome and found the withering flower pressed inside.

Flowers came to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the fifth flower that she gave to him came to him in the form of a dried rose, one that he kept tucked safely inside his favorite book.

It was moments like these that made Aemond believe in anyone but himself.

Being able to love someone blindly was not a gift that Aemond ever found himself capable of giving. Ever since the loss of his eye, he had grown to be full of spite and resentment, believing that having his dragon was enough to make the loss of company around him worthwhile. Nobody knew how to speak to him anymore– how does one comfort a boy who could only see half the world around him?

And then, she came to him. His wife.

With her free smiles and open heart, she had made her way through into the center of his. He found that he preferred her there, where she belonged. She had made her home in his heart, and he marveled at how despite not matching up to her in any way that mattered, she had found it in herself to allow him to take shelter in hers.

It brought him shame to think of how they could have fallen in love much sooner if he had been open to her affections and not been so wrapped up in his own presumed fallacies. But with time, he learned that in a world where marriages remained cold until the bitter end, a late bloom of happiness was a gift that he should learn to treasure.

It is a girl. Do not ask me why I believe so, husband. I simply do, she had said.

The tomes say a bigger belly is indicative of a boy. I read it, he had countered then.

He stood corrected. Aemond would tell the entire realm that his worldly knowledge did not stand a chance against his wife’s intuition– the little girl he held in his arms was enough support for his claim. 

She slept soundly in his arms as he sat in his chair by the hearth. His wife, tired from her taxing labors, had taken to sleeping through most of the last three days, and he had not left his daughter’s side, not once.

He held her head as his mother carried her for the very first time, eyes shining in joy as she thanked them both for making her a grandmother once more. There were very few things that gave Alicent Hightower joy, and watching her children have babes of their own was one of them.

He rested the tip of his fingers over her smooth and frail silver hair as his grandfather took a good look at her, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. Aemond had not seen his grandfather look at anyone with such  reverence, not unless it was Helaena, Jaehaera or his own mother. And now, Aemond suspected that his grandfather, for all his cold demeanor, did have a soft corner in his heart for the women of his life.

He had towered over the crib as the twins took turns gawking at her, after spending hours begging to see their new cousin. Aemond brought them after they promised to not make too much noise– both mother and daughter were fast asleep. Jaehaera had asked him if she could braid her hair when she grew some, and Jaehaerys poked at the new babe's nose (her mother's nose) with his thumb in curiosity. Aemond laughed, for he was intrigued by her too– only, it was better contained.

He held her tightly to his chest with his hand over her head as Aegon came to meet his newborn niece– completely sober and bathed, upon Aemond’s threats of murder if he came anywhere near his babe with his foulness. He smiled as he dropped the little dragon toy in her crib, looking over at the exhausted mother who could barely keep her eyes open. Aemond’s one eye followed his brother’s then, and visibly softened at the sight of his wife. Aegon laughed and quipped, “I never thought I’d say this brother, but I suppose you do wear the lovestruck look well.”

He had rocked her in silence as Helaena cooed at her, elated at the thought of becoming an aunt to a niece. This family is in dire need of more women, she had mumbled absentmindedly once. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered and Aemond enthusiastically agreed. 

She is beautiful, and she is his. His own daughter, given to him by his own wife.

In the nights, when he was left alone with the women around whom his entire world now revolved, Aemond let tranquility take him. And it was in moments like these, that he learned to love them both with all that he had– blindly, and unconditionally. 

It was in moments like these, that he learned to believe.

Flowers have come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage, and the sixth flower that she gave to him, came to him in the form of his little daughter. A little flower, from his flower.

The flowers kept coming to him throughout the many years that followed, and he valued every one of them– for they had all come from her, and they were all a part of her.

His flower. His wife. His very own.

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MASTERLIST

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

⌗︙・⚠︎ obsessed blade being an utter sadomasochist when it comes to you ⚠︎ ♡⸝⸝

Blade knows you. He knows everything about you—Blade knows everything about what makes you human. He knows what you love, he knows what you dread.

Blade knows that you're the only person who could possibly get his adrenaline pumping in ways he hasn't felt in all of those long, dreadful years of his immortality. Never have you once shown him an ounce of fear during each of your intense battles, eyes piercing into him as you parry his attacks, formulating ways to land a hit on him. Even if he'd managed to overpower you, his body pinning you down as he pants hungrily in excitement and exhaustion, you'd still find a way to headbutt, punch, or kick him away.

It's why he always looks forward to fighting you whenever he's sent away on a mission, barely able to contain the excitement of both inflicting pain upon you and having you inflict pain on him.

He ignores the teasing from Kafka and Silver Wolf, the likes of whom are well aware of just how deep his obsession for you truly runs. But it's not like they can do much to stop him, since he's disgustingly stubborn in his ways, and trying to get him to stop obsessing over you would just be a pointless endeavor. At the very least, there are times when Elios' script does not require the swordsman, though Blade makes his frustration of not being able to see you very obvious.

Blade makes it very clear to the other Stellaron Hunters that he doesn't want any of them to engage in any sort of combat with you. Your fighting prowess is reserved for him and him alone. Those warnings are mostly directed to Kafka since Blade knows that she'd toy around with you for a bit just to mess with him. And in Blade's mind, his rules apply to you as well; you aren't allowed to fight anybody else other than him. If you take aim for Kafka or Silver Wolf, Blade is right there, parrying each and every one of your attacks. You originally thought he was just simply providing time for his accomplices to escape or formulate an attack plan, but he proves you wrong.

He only has it out for you, ignoring your fellow Trailblazers aiming hits at whoever is accompanying him in favor of pouring each ounce of his focus on you. When your companions attempt to distract him with an attack of their own, all he does is kick away your companions, barely sparing them so much as a glance. It's so blatantly obvious to everyone in the vicinity, even becoming a bit of a joke (a rather dark one) that you dryly chuckle about.

Blade's temperament blooms like a hellish flower, corrupt roots digging under his skin and sapping away at his patience when he watches you in secret. He can see the way you interact with your fellow Trailblazers, particularly Dan Heng. How you so openly douse that pathetic little bastard in waves of affection, presenting him with warm smiles and cheerful embraces that have that sniveling coward freeze up. No, he is not jealous, not one bit. His blistering anger bleeds into his strength, and when he faces off against you once more, he does not allow you any breathing room as he mercilessly lands hit after hit on you. To make you feel even a snippet of the pain that you have so unknowingly brought upon him gives Blade a shuddering thrill.

And yet Blade truly does not want to kill you, to snuff out your life and be done with this twisting obsession. He once thought about it—he'd thought it over multiple times inside his broken mind—but found that even thinking about it made a coil of unease squeeze deep inside of him--it felt painful. He's much more willing to drag out these skirmishes, to relish in the feeling of his hands wrapped around your throat, and your weapon just moments away from cutting his throat open.

When Blade feels the oh-so-familiar sting of his flesh having been sliced open by your weapon, a hot pulse of arousal squeezes in his crotch.

"Ah--" It takes a bit too much restraint to swallow up the rest of the satisfied moan that nearly escapes the wide grin spread across his lips. Blade briefly almost humors the sinful thought of letting loose that perverse noise, to see what kind of reaction he could pull from you. It wouldn't matter if your expression would be blank or if you'd given him the most disgusted look you could muster. He'd do anything to get any sort of possible reaction from you.

Though it seems that he doesn't need to bother, as you clearly heard his little slip-up and gave him a look that was clearly saying Really? Did you really just do that? It doesn't matter to him that you're probably misunderstanding why he just nearly moaned, so long as your attention is on him, then he could care less if you think of him as a pervert.

"You're a real piece of work, y'know that?" A sarcastic half grin forms on your lips, though your mood is anything but amused. You grunt as he brutishly swings his sword a little too close to your face, just barely nicking at your skin. "Bet that's why ya keep tryna fight me all the time huh?"

Blade scoffs, though the smoldering excitement in his eyes gives away just how fucking excited he truly is. "What's it to you? If you got a damn problem," he heaves as you land a booming kick to his hip, forcing him to skid away, "Then keep it to yourself."

"Yeah I got a damn problem, you freak." Oh yeah, call the guy who's currently trying to tear you into fucking pieces a freak. That'll help you beat his ass and successfully retreat back to the safety of the Astral Express. Seriously, if he wanted to get his rocks off just because of a fight, he could've fought anybody else and been done with it. It feels pretty icky knowing that this guy was a deranged pervert who got off from getting the crap beat outta him.

And now you're stuck fighting him. Great. The universe must truly savor your suffering.

Over and over the pattern is repeated—you land a hit on Blade, he kicks you away, he shoves his entire weight against you, lands a hit on you, and vice-versa. His sword doesn't cut you deep enough to be fatal, but the open wounds still fester with your blood. Blade isn't looking much better either, a single harsh bruise upon his cheek where you'd punched him before. His clothes are ripped in various places, his blood staining the cloth. His wounds are healing though, no thanks to that stupid self-healing ability of his. But it's clear that you're still wearing each other down rather significantly, though Blade seems to be recovering his strength bit by bit.

"Fuck, you asshole.." You cough, attempting to keep your body steady despite the throbbing aches all over. If this keeps up, you'll be too exhausted to even block an attack and if that happens you'll—

Just vaguely, you can hear your name being called. A familiar voice, though tinted with a touch of anxiety, is nonetheless filled with concern. It breaks your concentration from the fight, and even if your entire body is screaming from pain and exhaustion, you strangely find it in yourself to smile in relief as you call out his name.

"Da-.."

There is a sudden sharp pressure against your neck, and your vision suddenly spins as the ground seemingly disappears beneath your feet. You feel yourself flying. You can barely even think before thundering pain violently assaults your head and spreads to your back and the pressure around your neck tightens. All you can feel is pain, a newly born headache pounding at the back of your head, and your limbs too heavy to move. It isn't until Blade ducks his face down uncomfortably close to yours that you realize what has happened.

He fucking slammed you against the ground. That flighty sensation you'd felt was just him lifting you up by your throat and then slamming you back down. You stupidly let down your guard and now you barely have the strength to even breathe. Blade watches you, now akin to prey caught by the hunter.

He looks excited.

"He can't save you," he hisses. His smile is like a crescent moon. "None of them can. I could kill you right now and they can't do anything about it. Your final moments could be all mine."

To prove his point, he digs his fingers into your skin, readying to crush your windpipe. Dry wheezes and gasps escape your mouth, and even despite all the pain, you struggle fervently. You are scared, yes, but more than anything, you are angry. If you wanted to die in a fight, you rather die at someone else's hands rather than the bastard above you.

He chuckles, a dreadful sound that pierces your ears. "That's it, keep looking at me like that. Show me everything of yours, (name)--your hatred, your fear, your pain, everything." His grip loosens and you hold in every urge to vomit. You feel sick, sicker than you have ever felt in your entire life.

"Quit... quit talking like you know me or some shit.." You angrily wheeze out. A thick metallic taste spreads on your tongue. Shit, a concussion is the least of your worries now if you're suffering from internal bleeding.

"Oh, but I do know you. I know everything about you (name)," Blade is no longer human to you now. He is a monster, a monster that is enjoying the torment that he assaults you with. "I know what you love. I know what you dread."

The hand around your throat withdraws swiftly, but you can't even try and make a move before your face is cupped, almost tenderly. With your head in place, all you can see, feel, and hear are Blade. He overloads your senses with him. Forcing you closer to him, you realize that he's going to kill you and squirm. He wants you to look him in the eyes as you die—

"I know everything about what makes you human."

Blade kisses you. He doesn't kill you. Blade kisses you, the taste of cigarettes and blood filling your mouth as he hungrily devours your lips. He doesn't kill you, because he loves you so much that he hates you for rendering him into such a love-stricken fool.

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[arminsumi]

✎ immortal devotion

suguru 💗 すぐる

note : ahhh i really want to write more for our fav little cult leader but his damn best friend keeps invading my mind. any geto thoughts u have feel free to share i would love to hear ur hcs or just rambles ✌️

warnings — toxic love, cult leader!sugu / implies brainwashing, non-sorcerer!reader

he wants you to be devoted to him.

he craves your devotion. he needs your declaration of undying, eternal love. he thinks fuck, if only i could turn the two of us into immortal beings, then i could entrap you into an eternity of loving and pleasing me.

he needs you to swear your life to him. it's killing him to wait for your words, he wishes he could force it out of you. squeeze those words out.

suguru doesn't want 'i love yous' or other such measly, pathetic confessions of affection from you.

no.

he wants to hear you say other words. ones with heavier meaning than an 'i love you'. he wants to see the depth of your emotions in your eyes. he wants to glower at you as you say it, on your knees for him like he's your god. it's sick how badly he wants you to worship him, how he wants your love to be twisted with fear.

he'd dig his fingers into your cheeks as you look at him with a drunken, spellbound look of pure infatuation and inconceivable love. raw lust. tainted innocence. a foggy mind. his kisses get you so fucked up and he knows it, he loves to see that exhausted breath escape your lips like he's just squeezed the air out of your lungs.

"say it." he'd demand in a low voice you can't help but feel compelled to obey.

and you'd say, "i'm devoted to you." like a brainwashed cultist to him.

it would give him a little rush.

he'd admire the way your pupils dilate for him. dark devotion. twisted romance. that's what he needs from you, not just because he loves you with devastating intensity and passion, but because he loves you selfishly. he harbors all these feelings you give him and dams them up, builds a cage around the two of you to prevent anyone from entering or exiting this whirlwind of "love".

"good. now will you obey me like a good little monkey, hm?"

you nod dumbly, completely missing the strange nickname that you've never heard him use before. his heart lurches. he's finally got you ensnared. there's no going back after you declare devotion to geto suguru.

and you love him like he's your cult leader. because he is. you just don't know it yet. for now, he's just an innocent boyfriend who functions normally in society, no secrets are kept from you, right?

[heartfullofleeches]

Spill

Immortal Male Yan + G.N Criminal Reader

Summary: You kidnapped him to get some information about a shared friend, but he won't give in so easily

Warnings: Sadomasochism themes, violence, slightly suggestive scene

Good little Silas.

Always keeps every word someone says to him.

It's his job afterall - one no-one else in the entire world could full. You see, Silas knew the secrets of a lot of dangerous people. The type of series others would die, or even kill for. Why would these people trust a scrawny, pathetic looking guy like him? It's simple really. He has a bigger secret than all of them combined.

He couldn't die.

It was really hard to convince his boss of his usefulness at first. His buddies put a bullet through his skull and tossed him into the trash out back before he could demonstrate himself. Didn't even buy him dinner before hand. Assholes. Coming back after having his brains splattered on his soon to be employer's did wonders for his credibility. He was mostly used as a living meat shield early on, but with his resilience to wounds and the pain they may cause his boss become more relaxed around him. He had proven worth plus is anyone ever caught wind of their ties and kidnapped him Silas would never saw a thing. He was the perfect lapdog.

After that he pretty much became an outlet for everyone's tales. From little white lights to infidelity, murder, and every other sin in the book. Sweet Silas would do his to lean an ear and give input when requested. By the end of the year Silas had enough information to get everyone involved arrested, murdered, or whatever else might happen if he let any details slip. He could easily save the lives of innocent people, but he had a bigger prey to catch than the fleeting high of justice.

After all, a good boy might go to the police, and he was no good boy.

-

Silas greedily gulps down tablespoons of water as the glass clacks against his teeth.

"Feeling better?"

"Mhm..."

A backhand soars across his face.

"Good."

Silas' head hangs at an awkward angle from the force, red stained saliva dribbling down his lips. He bite into the lower one to avoid making a sound. Normally he'd hold his captor to the same standards as his friends in regards to filling his stomach with something other than water before smacking him around, but this was no ordinary kidnapper. They were intoxicating, threatening, the exact type of person he'd love to...

Ugh, he's getting carried away again.

Best not to do that while he's still playing an innocent victim, especially in front of his Doll. Just a single week before his employment, Silas fell in love. The culprit of his stolen heart was a crook committing another robbery that night, the two's paths crossed in an alley behind the bank. No questions asked, his future spouse stabbed him directly in his chest before they fled the scene. That boldness almost made them an optional playmate, but that hint of guilt in their eyes swept him off his feet. Researching them only made him fall madder in love. He would do anything to have them.

"I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me code to his safe and I'll let you go.

Facing away, Silas is fully able to roll his eyes. At least threaten his life if he speaks while you're at it.

"Please... I really don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a waiter!" He fights in his restraints and sobs with wide eyes, hoping to sell the act anc draw attention away from his lower body. Pitching a tent right in front of his doll on their first meeting was rather embarrassing. You snarl as you pick up your knife.

"Just tell me what I want to know!"

You're so pretty when you scream. Silas can't wait for his turn to play. He holds it isn't too long so he can take a picture of his wounds and mirror them on you so you'll have matching scars. Sure he'll have to redo his now and then, but the photos you take at your wedding won't know that.

You ghost the blade down along his neck. Silas swallows to feel its point and prevent himself from choking on the blood collecting in his mouth. He wants to act just a little longer - but you're making it so hard teasing him like that. He repeats his scripted moto in his head like a pray as you drag the knife down his chest.

Scream. Cry. Scream. Cry. Ah-

Your eyes grow to the size of dinner plates as the tiny moan sounds within the empty room. It's not a whimper you're used to, but one of pure unadulterated lust. "Did.. you just."

No going back now. So much for that.

"Guess I just can't help it, Dolly. You're too fucking irresponsible. I know you wanna hurt me, but since I love you so much I wanna let you in on a little secret. You can hurt me, but you can't kill me. Break me apart if you don't believe me. I'll be back tomorrow to take what's mine."

You step back as he erupts into a fit of shrill laughter. "That bastard- Always hiring the freaks. I can't believe he ditch me for someone like you."

His laughter stops. That's a secret his boss never shared with him. That old fuck would've been dead long before then if he had.

"Ohh, did he do something to hurt you? That changes everything. I'll give you whatever you want to know down to his house code if you let me have first cut."

"Why would you help me?"

"I already told you, Doll." Silas stands up and drops the cuffs to the ground, dislocated bones bopping back into place as he flexes. "I love ya, and I'm gonna make sure whoever's hurt you pays. Got this job just to help you out anyway. Issue is if you want me to spill the beans without a few dates first you gotta spilling my guts on the floor as my spit spills down your pretty throat."

[limbuscompanysituations]

Good day

Which of the sinners do you believe would be most likely to be yanderes/yandere headcanons?

Many thanks

After giving it some thought (under the cut because it became longer than expected):

Yi Sang: Unlikely. He's very puppy/good boy coded. He could never do anything if he saw the target of his admiration wasn't into it. He might, I don't know, jerk off thinking about them then cry?

Faust: Likely. Faust is a genius and if you don't think so, she also knows every outcome. There isn't a single world in which the one she admires isn't into her.

Don Quixote: So likely it hurts the scale of likelihood here. I'm glad I'm not ranking them from most to least likely, or else she would break everything. She knows everything about her crush. She has everything her crush could ever want. And if she doesn't? She will acquire it one way or another. Also even if they say clearly they don't want a single thing to do with her, she will take the "oh it's forbidden love" route and go behind their back to be their "knight in shining armor". Everything she does is in her beloved's best interests. Living her best delusional life.

Ryoshu: She might look like it but no, actually not likely. Don't get me wrong, she's very into whoever she likes, but they have to be a little bit obsessed with her or else it won't work. They have to breach the gap. If not it just turns into artistic obsession, which she deals with by slicing them up a little bit and immortalizing them in agony.

Meursault: Likely. He will make an entire plan with several steps on how to best conquer the one he desires the most. He's going for the most efficient path here and will not care if he has to mentally/emotionally/physically manipulate them as long as he conquers his end goal. Now the tricky part is to get him to have such a visceral interest in somebody. He might lose interest about halfway through planning, who knows?

Hong Lu: Unlikely. Some of his other IDs may be more prone to obsessive tendencies, but he's very... free-spirited at his core. If his crush doesn't want anything to do with him, he will be upset and gloomy about it but he will move on. He gives me the impression of a person who's had to give up many things, even in his life of luxuries. I don't think he'd put much effort to get them.

Heathcliff: Likely, but in a pathetic way. I don't think he's much efficient at this whole obsession thing. He wants to please them but he wants to be loved back. The second part is vital here. Other than him needing their absolute love and approval, he might try to conquer them, fail, get sad/angry about it, go on a journey to better himself so they will for sure feel so stupid for dumping him and then end up not going back? I don't know where I've seen this before...

Ishmael: Likely. And she will go after them. Time after time after time, she will go back to them. She's super smart and she will play the long game to get what she wants too. Prone to planning like Meursault, but much less clinical about it. She will not stop until they are the one obsessed with her. Absolutely and completely loyal and dependent on her.

Rodion: Unlikely. Just like her good buddy Hong Lu, she's very free-spirited. She likes when others are drooling after her because then she can use them as she pleases. She doesn't like this obsessive feeling so she might just take a good distance from her crush and see how it works out for her.

Sinclair: Likely but oh boy this one's hard. This little guy has so many anger issues, as well as self image issues. He will change every aspect of himself to get them to notice him. He will internalize his anger as best as he can, as he is worried about hurting others. But there's only so much of this anger his internal self can take, and once it explodes out of him, he might forcefully try to get control over his crush. He will feel like shit for it and he will hate himself more, but he will reason that they were the one to push him to doing unreasonable things. This route can only leave to a tragic ending for both.

Outis: Likely, but she's tricky... Outis can play the long game, as well as any role she's given. She will become what her beloved wants the most, as a way of having their absolute attention and affection. This façade may crack at times, though. If they ever grow averse to her then she will consider kidnapping and other options.

Gregor: Unlikely. He's old and tired. If his crush doesn't like him, he will take the Yi Sang route (jerk off facedown in bed and cry). He will get over it pretty fast too. He's low energy when it comes to emotional matters. Being obsessed about somebody who doesn't want anything to do with him will lower his emotional energy even further. Might grow lethargic while he tries to get over them.

Bonus people:

Vergilius: Unlikely. He doesn't think he deserves anything good in his life. His eyes will glow brighter as he stares at his crush, and he will be taken by an intense desire to have them closer, but then he will turn away and wallow in his own misery. Even if they wanted him, he wouldn't indulge. Having any connection to him will only lead to tragedy.

Dante: WILDCARD. They have a lot going on for them to pick up an obsession. Between figuring out who they are to figuring out where they should go, there's little to no time remaining to even think about pursuing a crush. Now here's where the wildcard part comes from. Even with their memories completely wiped, it is possible that some strong feelings from their previous life could remain. Maybe they will see that special one out on the street one day, and they will not know why, but they will desire them so strongly it makes them feel dizzy. Might even go crazy trying to figure out who this stranger is and why do they want them so bad.

[oc-poll-tournament]

OC Poll Tournament Round 1 Poll 5

Propaganda below the cut:

Meparik (he/him) @gailynovelry: Meparik of the Frostbitten Court (he/him)

Meparik is many things! He is a feyrie, a pickpocket, a sign-language user, a voracious reader, and an accidental religious leader. He understands more of the political goings-on of his realm than most adults do, and profusely hates the gods for it. His bedraggledness is matched only by that of his best friend (unwilling messiah lesbian). Gaze upon the child, your honor. Do you feel it? The desire to feed him warm soups and wrap him up in a cozy blanket? I rest my case, your honor. I rest it well.

Nat Finch (he/him) @albatris: I'd like to submit Nat Finch! he/him, 25 years old, brand new baby vampire. he works the night shift at dodgy petrol and convenience store Stop 'N' Go, where he falls asleep on the clock and encourages shoplifting. he's schizotypal like me and he loves cats, cooking, and his friends! he's the protagonist of my campy gory horror trilogy, though he'd rather not be!

he's short and fat with red eyes and lots of freckles. his hair is long and black, often uneven and choppy in length, because he just cuts tangles out instead of untangling them ❤

he's a sweet boy, earnest boy, awkward boy; he doesn't have many friends at the start of the story due to his paranoia, psychosis, and social anxiety, but by the end of it has a whole bunch of good friends AND a kitty he adores named Grub who purrs like a faulty tractor

in this story vampirism is a sentient entity and all connected via a hivemind known as "the Garble".... it lives in the vampires' blood and can manipulate their thoughts as well as give them heightened strength and speed, claws and fangs, and night vision when they need it. it can be useful, but mostly it's a bully and an inconvenience

at the centre of the Garble hivemind lives the very first vampire, an undead rotting corpse and the god of vampires, and a few of their close friends and confidants. all life force collected by regular vampires flows to them at the centre and grants them immortality and power. it's a sweet deal for the folks at the centre, and a terrible deal for ordinary vampires like Nat who rarely reap any real benefits from their condition, but are threatened and manipulated into participating in this system regardless

Nat's story sees him struggling to solve the mystery of how and why he was turned and trying to balance his kind, caring nature with his new violent condition... and eventually leads him to, "hey, I think I'm going to hunt down and eat the rest of vampire god"

good for him!

some other Nat Facts:

huge drama queen (will play up being sad and pathetic to get what he wants)

vampires are hardwired to seek warmth and coziness so Nat is always down to snuggle 24/7

bouncy cheery overexcited lad who will grin for weeks if you say something nice to him

vegetarian, aside from eating people, which he insists does not count

speaking of eating people, primarily preys on rich pricks and abusive bosses

is too awkward to tell his neighbours he bought them a cute knitted blanket he thought they might like for their corgi because what if that's a weird thing to do. this has been going on for three weeks

is too awkward to tell his neighbours his name is Nat, not Matt. this has been going on for three years

has a giant scary monster mode full of eyes and teeth >:3

please consider voting for my boy!

[albatris]

Nat Post!

@original-character-championship

well he is just a little guy <3

Nathaniel Felix Finch!

he's 25 years old and he works at dodgy petrol and convenience store Stop 'N' Go! he's schizotypal like me and he loves cats, cooking, and his friends! he's the protagonist of my campy gory vampire horror trilogy, though he'd rather not be!

in this story vampirism is a sentient entity and all connected via a hivemind known as "the Garble".... it lives in the vampires' blood and can manipulate their thoughts as well as give them heightened strength and speed, claws and fangs, and night vision when they need it. it can be useful, but mostly it's a bully and an inconvenience

at the centre of the Garble hivemind is the very first vampire, a vampire god, if you will, and a small group of their vampire friends and confidants. all life force collected by other regular vampires flows to them at the centre and grants those select few immortality and power. it's a sweet deal for the folks at the centre, and a terrible deal for ordinary vampires who rarely reap any real benefits from their condition. but the Garble makes 'em participate through all kinds of threats and discomfort. it's a bummer

Nat is a brand new freshly-turned baby vampire! he was turned by a group of vampires with ~nefarious intentions~, who forcefed him part of the original vampire's rotting undead corpse. his story sees him struggling to solve the mystery of why this happened to him and trying to balance his kind, caring nature with his new violent condition... and eventually leads him to, "hey, I think I'm going to hunt down and eat the rest of vampire god"

good for him!

he's a sweet boy, gentle boy, awkward boy; he doesn't have many friends at the start of the story due to his paranoia, psychosis, and social anxiety, but by the end of it has a whole bunch of good friends AND a kitty he adores named Grub who purrs like a faulty tractor

rapid-fire Nat Facts!

huge drama queen (will play up being sad and pathetic to get what he wants)

vampires are hardwired to seek warmth and coziness so Nat is always down to snuggle 24/7

bouncy cheery overexcited lad who will grin for weeks if you say something nice to him

collector of trinkets

excellent cook and especially loves cooking for other people, because he likes to feel useful and enjoys being showered in compliments

vegetarian, aside from eating people, which he insists does not count

speaking of eating people, primarily preys on rich pricks and abusive bosses where he can

is too awkward to tell his neighbours he bought them a cute knitted blanket he thought they might like for their corgi because what if that's a weird thing to do. this has been going on for three weeks

is too awkward to tell his neighbours his name is nat not matthew. this has been going on for three years

look at he:

there's also a lil playlist of Nat tunes!

ok bye!

[greenflamedwriter]

Kiss her not ME! PART ONE

[Shen Yuan | Gongyi Xiao. Safe for work/ Mentions of sleeping around but no actual written smut. ] So SY transmigrates as Gongyi Xiao, and in trying to save himself from his cedric diggory fate ends up not only gaining the attention of the protagonist himself he also accidently has a harem unaware that each man he meets he gains their loyalty! Snakes follow him, a rogue cultivator in the woods who he always night hunts with and even has fun, he gained the scum villains attention with both of their appreciation over fans and then the little rat Shang Qinghua.

Given that Luo Binghe also has a harem along with love trysts with Mobei-Jun. It seems as if everyones sleeping together but Gongyi Xiao is oblivious to the whole thing. He's just trying to survive and wait until his plant mushroom body is ripe!

Gongyi Xiao had a simple small story, a footnote who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time admist Luo Binghe's Blackening.

Gongyi Xiao is handsome, talented and a head disciple promised to the little palace mistress. A rival to the protagonist but thats not all, his humilating defeat dignity in tatters before he dies off screen. Not only is his death pathetic, oh no before the events leading up to that Gongyi Xiao would be cuckholed forced to watch his ex fiance drape herself over Binghe and have his manhood figurativly crushed like all stallion novels forced to watch Luo Binghe take whatever maiden he likes while the men have to watch in jealous rage.

Gongyi Xiao originally challenged Luo Binghe and mysteriously died after on a night hunt, with his title of head disciple taken, losing the respect of not only the Palace mistress but the Old palace master as well his death was seen as a good riddance.

From a respected shining diamond of the Huan hua palace now tossed into the trash as he was reduced to fools gold. Gongyi Xiao was a cannon fodder rival with a doomed ending....

....

So when Shen Yuan woke up in the body of Gongyi Xiao one year after the immortal alliance he realised he only had less than four years to prepare for Luo Binghes arrival. And He'd be damned if he ends up following in the orginal goods footsteps!

Hell no!

Leave me alone, Mistress!

Get the f*ck away from ME, you two face diciples who will stab this one in the back as soon as someone better and more handsome comes along!

And what the hell is up with the palace master!? Why does he give Gongyi Xiao a bad vibe? He tried to reason it away but his gut instinct was making him feel off balanced.

Gongyi Xiao began to distance himself, training harder to become stronger.

Once Luo Binghe gets here and snatches away the title of Head Disciple Gongyi Xiao will leave. And to survive in the world of PIDW he needs to be stronger. Cannon fodders always die but if he becomes a rouge cultivator along with the knowledge of PIDW he could potentially survive anything if he stays out of Binghes way!

By using the resources and training harder, most disciples shrugged and thought that Gongyi Xiao was taking his duties too seriously. Meanwhile Xiao Gongzhu is getting increasingly infuriated that her fiance is withdrawing and it gets worse when Gongyi Xiao reveals that he has second thoughts on the marriage that he doesnt feel good enough or worthy enough.

Instead of making her bad off, it made her think he was having doubts, she took his hands and spoke that he was worthy and once he's the new palace master they will marry and run the sect together!

This was NOT going the way he wanted.

So he ended up conceiving and spoke "The man who is strong enough to claim title to being the Palace Master of Huan hua sect will be worthy of being Xiao Gongzhu's husband." When saying this he was thinking of Binghe, while the mistress felt placated.

Thankfully that agreement will be void when Binghe arrives Gongyi Xiao hummed to himself.

His plan to run away was only one of many plans, his back-up plan was to hopefully get stronger and maybe endear himself to Binghe. If he was useful and not a dead weight soldier he could maybe be someone trusted to be Binghes confident, like Mobei-Jun who is his right hand man, Gongyi Xiao can be his left! He could help at Huan hua while Mobei-Jun deals with his demon palace.

But if that doesnt work his back-up back-up plan is a plant body he planted immedietly, it was growing well and was easy to maintain the irregation system he set up by applying a tailsman he didnt have to be there with the body to infuse it with Qi steadly!

Then there was his correspondence with the other sects, in honesty he only wanted blackmail from Shen Qingqiu. If he delieved that guy on a silver platter he might have the golden ticket to freedom!

But instead he found troubling letters about Tianglang-jun, he found himself researching and when he found that history strangely blank he began to ask questions.

If all the sects were called to lock up this demon, then where were the evidence or signs of Tianglang-Jun preparing to fight?

The old Palace master blew the whistle but why? What reason made him do it? He then had a letter giving the details of Luo Binghes mother Su Xiyan and that Luo Binghe looked so much like her at the Immortal alliance conference.

Gongyi Xiao bit his lip, it was...strange. How she died was he assisting the demons- but then how was Luo Binghe born and...where did she go?

The worst part he was starting to get strange letters from Sects trying to...poach him from Huan hua. They said his talents were wasted and he would do more good in the other sects, even Yue Qingyuan wrote a letter asking to meet up with the future head disciple to see if he were looking for any positions.

This was strange...and an OBVIOUS DEATH FLAG!

Gongyi groaned hiding all the letters and wondering if he should just burn them- then again, running away to a different Sect he could potentially save one by allying with Luo Binghe.

Running away seemed better, but with no safety nets. If he went to a sect that had stability it would be an even more crushing defeat.

He'd had to wait until Luo Binghe arrived.

Worse part he was still empty handed, other than him lotering around brothels nothing. Cang Qiong Mountain was quiet about Liu Qingges death and it would be stupid to throw around accusations.

As Gongyi Xiao was practicing sword forms, ignoring the diciples watching him. The boys sneering and the girls giggling, Gongyi Xiao almost fumbled when a dangerous thought almost shattered his concentration.

He only reached out to the two sects on information from Shen Qingqiu, close friends he made from the alliance who would never tell a soul...

So two out of the four sects...who told Cang Qiong mountain- and was Yue Qingyuans letter really a strange invitation- when in reality it was a threat.

If he could [and it wouldn't be OC] he would smash his skull against a wall not only does he have Binghe to contend with he may as well have told Cang Qiong mountain to look out for him too!

As he worked tirelessly getting stronger, going on night hunts, sharpening his knoloedge he lost track of time.

He never really knew when Luo Binghe would arrive.

Or the night.

So on this on perticular night, avoiding the mistress, and the Master who seemed to be watching him even more carefully Gongyi Xiao practically leapt to his feet when the wards around the Huan hua Palace was activated and volunteered to investiage!

He needed out of this palace- and its not like anything bad can happen to him yet, he needed to meet Binghe and get cuckholed- so he was safe till then!

So as Gongyi Xiao went into the forest at night using a [orb thingy I forgot the name leave me alone or please tell me and I'll change this to the xianxias equivilant of a torch >,<]

He felt the demonic presence before he saw it, drawing his sword and extinguishing his light, Gongyi Xiao came across a clearing in the woods where the moon breached the space with its light. Like a spotlight on the stage, Gongyi Xiao gaped to see a man slumped against a tree, shadowed in dark robes and the red could be his clothes also or blood.

Gongyi Xiao almost dropped his sword, Luo Binghe!?

It had to be him- what other handsome demon would appear this close to Huan hua Palace!?

[boy if only he knew about Tianglang-jun]

Gongyi Xiao took a step forward then stiffened as the demonic presence vanished, like your ears popped and there was a sudden silence.

It felt more foreboding...

"Hello? Excuse me, young master?" He spoke softly, as if he was approaching a wounded animal instead and also- what the hell?

The Palace mistress- or when of the Huan hua sisters should be here! Where was a little sister to patch up the protagonists wounds and give him that tender care and warmth especially after his ordeal from the abyss.

Expecting danger, Binghe would be flighty.

Gongyi Xiao put away his sword and approached slowly raising his hands up.

"Are you injured? Do you need help?"

Since he was not a maiden, he was almost afraid Luo Binghe may be mad or have a possible Qi Deviation if he would attack Gongyi it seemed likely.

The other shifted, red eyes peeking out through black hair, Gongyi rested on one knee but approached no further.

"Luo Binghe-Shixiong?" He asked in shock, or pretend shock. Which of course had the other perk, finally taking in the golden disciple before him and the forest he was in. A huge contrast to the abyss.

"You..." his voice sounded rough from disuse Luo binghe swallowed "You know this one?"

Oh thank goodness a maiden wasn't here, she would've been distracted by such a tenous voice.

"Yes, uh- This one is Gongyi Xiao, Disciple of Huan Hua Palace. Both of us participated at the immortal alliance conference five years ago."

He gave him time to digest that as he saw the others face change going through a range of emotions before settling on nuetral.

He had no idea who the perfomance was for, there was no anger or ill intent there. Luo Binghe only looked lost, then slumped like his strings were cut. Anyone would be moved.

Gongyi had to give him an oscar.

Luo Binghe grunted, clutching his chest and Gongyi Xiao almost panicked then remembered no sudden moves.

Gongyi activated his emergency flare, "Don't worry, The Huan hua palace master should come for help soon," He spoke urgently as he hovered but stayed in Binghes line of sight.

"Can this one check Luo Binghes meridians?"

Luo Binghe nodded eyes shutting tight, Gongyi Xiao took his wrist and felt the termulous qi and went into another panic.

If Luo Binghe was exposed as a demon here, the Huan hua would shoot first ask questions later! Goddammit maybe a maiden DID stumble upon Luo Binghe and triggered a qi deviation that would then lead into some dub-con papapa!?

But dual cultivation wasn't on the cards since there were no little sisters around!

Gongyi Xiao began to push his own Qi against the others, hoping that he could help clear Binghes meridians the best he could.

In time he felt the other relax, his meridians beggining to soothe and Gongyi Xiao gave sigh of relief.

And just like that the cavalry appeared taking Luo Binghe into the Huan hua Palace. The beggining of Luo Binghes arc and the end to Gongyi Xiaos peace.

________________________________________________

Y'know what? Gongyi Xiao would get upset, but he was too busy marveling at the story parralells! Airplane was really holding out on him!

Of course Luo Binghe was introduced, all domineering and a force to be reckoned with. What would you expect from the protagonist? Gongyi Xiao found himself buckling under the pressure of extra duties, he struggled while Luo Binghe flourished and after a spar for the whole Huan hua palace to see along with Gongyi Xiaos humiliating defeat. Luo Binghe found himself as the new head disciple easily.

And Gongyi Xiao was ridiculed, beaten by the other Huan hua disciples who probably felt pent up about their own inadequicies and felt it justified to take it out on Gongyi. Then if that weren't enough, he found his position being pushed down further into the dirt.

Chores only younger and outer disciples were then delegated to him. He found himself in the kitchens working with the staff, doing laundry, and other menial work. Most forgot who he was and spoke to him with no respect before 'remembering'

Which is all fine and dandy, if Gongyi Xiao wasn't already doing it. Even the staff he worked with had to look at him bemused. Gongyi Xiao once he transmigrated knew he was going to get booted out. And if he was going to be a rogue cultivator he would have to learn how to cook and do meanial chores.

Although, laundry was on his to-do list. That was the one thing he kept putting off.

He was tired, battered and bruised from the rough housing of his martial siblings, his hands ached from chopping wood, heavy lifting of moving parcels and packages that the Huan Hua needed for some dumb reason as well as helping out in the kitchen.

His first excuse to weasel his way in was if he was going to be the Palace Master he needed to know the inns and outs, after seeing how hard working he was gained the respect of many. Which now they had to grimace realisng that their dreams of a more accomidating Palace Master went up in smoke with the arrival of Binghe.

Still, even with how quick the Palace mistress and master were Gongyi Xiao had to wrap and take care of his injuries himself.

And when he decieded to tackle laundry, even grimacing at the dirty clothes of Huan hua he had to bemoan why they used white and yellow- why not follow Binghes example and wear all black?

Of course when his hands touched the water along with the powder used to clean their clothes Gongyi Xiao immidietly yelped feeling as if he poured salt into tiny wounds in his hands. The heavy labour previously along with this made him grimace in pain, now that he was expecting it though he tried again to get through the first batch of clothes as quickly as possible.

He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck and turned to find a shadow in the doorway.

"You make it so easy," Luo Binghe spoke, his eyes devoid and looking down on Gongyi Xiao, both literally and figurtively. "To let others step all over you."

Gongyi Xiao couldn't help but press his lips together, you'd think for someone who was in this position himself Luo Binghe would be more sympathetic?

But alas, Luo Binghe saw himself in Gongyi Xiao, even the way he brightened with a smile.

"This one is afraid to misunderstand Luo Binghes meaning, this one wanted to help the burden we place on our staff and has learned so many things." He smiled, but inside he really wanted Luo Binghe to grow bored and walk away.

Instead Luo Binghe glanced at his hands, that were red and trembling slightly from the unused labour. A sneer graced his handsome features as he turned in a clear dismissal.

"Pathetic."

...Gongyi Xiao had no idea what he was expecting, to see his favourite protagonist and to be dismissed like that, he hadn't even done anything- but of course he was a man a rival to Luo Binghe!

And yet...it still hurt.

Looking back on the past couple weeks building up to this, Gongyi Xiao stood straighter in his formation with the other disciples as they were doing drills together.

Of course!

Being bullied, facing grueling labour it was a parralell to Luo Binghes white lotus arc! And what next- Luo Binghe found himself falling to the same pattern as Shen Qingqiu that abuse leads to abuse?

Gongyi Xiao thought this was far fetched and yet, everything was leading up to it. He found himself cornered by Luo Binghe along with his followers.

"The Palace Mistress was looking for you, Shidi." Luo Binghe spoke, and Gongyi Xiao tensed, no way! She had no interest when he started to distance himself years prior why now?

"Thats cruel to ignore a buetiful lady, Shidi. No respect at all." He saw the others perk up and came to the conclusion.

Was the Palace Mistress like Ning Yingying? An excuse to beat up the sad underdog character?

And Luo Binghe found himself playing the same role as Ming Fan.

Maybe he thought it was normal, watching how the golden robe disciples would beat up on of their own, like hyenas respecting the strong and eating the weak.

Inside, Gongyi Xiao was miserable, running away and staying alert whenever Binghe or even his followers would find him and trying his hardest to keep busy with more work to avoid them. And when that failed he went to the library to cram as many books as he could soon he'll lose access to this sect and their knowledge might as well bulk up!

But it all came to a head, when Gongyi Xiao requested more missions. The more field work he can do alone, the easier he can get away from this sect!

Which of course, the Old Palace Master denied, claiming some cock and bullshit story about his daughter needing a body guard.

Look- if Gongyi Xiao witnessed Binghe and the mistress messing around he's dead! Game over! With only local missions in the town near the sect, Gongyi Xiao felt depressed. Faking his death seemed to be the only option at this point.

"There you are!"

kill me. He thought before plastering a smile on his face.

palace mistress comes in, asks why hes avoding her- says he's not. She asks if hes upset about the position, he says he's relieved. That truthfully, he's never saw himself as a palace master. That he really wanted to work on his beastiary, he shows her some pages and tells her that thanks to Binghe he has all this free time and wants more missions to study these beasts but the old palace master said no because she needs bodyguarding.

She asks why

"Luo Binghe- he's the new head disciple and you seem to like him. He can take care of you."

"Thats not- but you promised! Why does it feel as if your giving up!"

"This one said the man who was stronger and more worthy to be Palace master should marry Xiao Gongzhu." He spoke softly "This one never thought it would be him. You like him too, wouldn't it be easier if I wasnt in the way?"

She didn't look happy, if anything she looked more annoyed.

"You've always wanted to run away. Now your using Luo Binghe as an excuse."

huh?

"You've never spoken to me for years you've avoided all of our martial siblings they kept saying you thought you were better than them. That you think your so good because you train and study. But I knew that wasn't true. Now that Luo Binghe is here you have more free time and yet I see even less of you! Do you hate Huan Hua that badly, you look down on us don't you!" She yelled close to tears, Gongyi Xiao flinched he had no clue where this was coming from.

But the truth was...he did look down on Huan hua, how could he not? In the books he always thought the sect was useless using their money to pay for talent and even then it meant nothing when they couldn't back it up.

If Huan hua weren't rich they would be the laughing stock of the sects! And Gongyi Xiao wanted to do better, he had a small hope that if he was good enough he could be a soldier for Luo Binghe like Mobei Jun he could be secure and safe and do whatever the heck he wanted. But it was scary if he was too competent Luo Binghe may kill him.

"This one became Head Disciple because there was no one better." He spoke placing his hands on his knees "But with Luo Binghe here, this one knows when he's beat, working hard means nothing compared to pure talent and Luo Binghe is someone this disciple trusts to be the new head of the Huan Hua Palance." He glanced at the mistress pressing her lips together.

"My whole plan was to take over as that was my duty but this one never wanted it. If anyone better came along this one would gladly step aside...this one figured Huan Hua was still my home even if that were the case."

"It IS your home Gongyi! You dont have to- to, pull away from us!"

He gave her a dry look "How can this one not feel unwanted with the way the other Martial siblings treat this one? You have also spent more time with Luo-Shixiong than this one so this disciple thought it'd better to give you space," He looked away with a grin "Give Luo-Shixiong the talk once he proposes."

"Now see here Gongy- wait propose?"

"Has he not proposed yet? tsk, this Shixiong of mine." Gongyi Xiao leered at the Mistress and she slapped his arm.

"Gongyi!"

He laughed and felt something inside his chest unravel as she laughed too.

"Your not going to leave?" Gongyi glanced at her in surprise "No- not unless you want me to go."

She nodded placing her head on his shoulder and Gongyi Xiao tensed then forced himself to relax.

"Gongyi Xiao never this one that way, has he?" She asked and Gongyi pressed his lips together.

"This one is sorry."

"Don't be, you can't force peoples feelings. We're childhood friends young love never usually works out."

For Luo Binghe it does, he thought then banished it from his mind after. "You need to show those martial siblings whose boss, just because Luo Binghe beat you doesn't mean you let everyone walk all over you. Show them you were head disciple for a reason." He shook his head "That'll just make them worse."

"Your a Huan hua disciple, you need to stick up for yourself."

"This one will...try."

______________________________________________________

Luo Binghe and Gongyi Xiao talk and Binghe still looks down on him before helping him with the luandry and calling Gongyi privaleged for taking such things for granted and probably had a taste of what working class go through and has the nerve to be upset? With others less fortunate and then acts happy to abandon all respobsibilites?

Gongyi feels ashamed, not just as himself but as Shen Yuan.

But working side by side with Luo Binghe both of their hands plunging into hot water, Gongyi Xiao spoke "This is why this one started doing this. I'm aware of how lucky this one is and wanted to help around the Huan Hua Palace whenever I could. And if this one went on more missions would have to learn how to be independent." He glanced at Luo Binghe and smiled "Binghe is so good at this, I wonder if there is anything he can't do."

Binghe was quiet for a moment so Gongyi Xiao went back to work wringing out the fabric to place in the basket to then put on the line, sure he could use drying tailsmans but he noticed a difference after a while as if some water pockets were still being stored in the fabric, long story short. Gongyi still felt damp.

So he cursed airplane as he pushed another fabric into the vat.

"This ones mother was a washerwomen." Binghe spoke softly and Gongyi Xiao stopped eyes looking up to Binghe in surprise.

Binghe noticed and scowled "Are you looking down on me?"

huh?

"What no!" Gongyi Xiao spoke in shock "I was- this one is just surprised that Luo-Shixiong feels comfortable enough to tell me." Gongyi Xiao couldn't surpress his smile. The fact that Luo Binghe actually told someone who wasn't a wife! That is a big deal- that is something Binghe would hold to his chest. Gongyi Xiao looked down feeling pleased that Binghe trusted him to tell him. If Gongyi was doing right maybe they could be friends.

He looked up and spoke "Theres nothing shameful about ones past, this one never understood why others would look down on people who did honest labour." He hummed, in the cultivation world and his own it was something he never understood.

But there was something he wanted Binghe to know, as a reader, something even his wives and closest allies never told him. Something even Ning Yingying never spoke about. And Gongyi knew he should keep his mouth shut. But he felt as if Luo Binghe should know.

"This one may not know much about people what their thoughts and feelings are, but I have a strong feeling...that..." Gongyi Xiao looked up at Luo Binghe who glanced at him, his expression nuetral as he kept working but glanced at him in this moment then paused at the look on Gongyi Xiaos face.

"Luo-Shixiong, this one knows your mother would be proud of you."

Binghe's eyes widened just a little and that raw emotion immedietly made Gongyi Xiao uncomfortable as he looked down scrubbing faster, why didn't he say that when he was going to put the clothes on the line he would've made a cool exit. ugh!

Now he made it awkward.

The only sounds of both of them washing the clothes he felt Luo Binghe stop and walk around him to place the cloth into the basket.

Gongyi Xiao cleared his throat "Thank you Shixiong, this shidi will take the rest from here."

As he moved to take the basket he heard Luo Binghe speak.

"What made you decide to do this? To lower yourself with the help?" He asked and Gongyi blinked as he looked up at him.

"Well, at first when this one was Head Disciple and had the responsibility of being the new Palace Master thought it made sense to know the ins and outs of the entire palace and how everything worked. And with some free time thought it was fair to help. We should all do our part to make Huan Hua Palace the best it can be." Gongyi grimaced as he glanced away.

"This one is aware of the rumours and our reputation and how the other sects look down on us that we buy our talent. This one wanted to change that," He glanced up at Luo Binghe and shrugged "And when rare talent presents itself this one thinks it best to know when to step aside."

"You have no issue with this one being the new head disciple?" Gongyi Xiao nodded hoping Luo Binghe would believe him. "Honestly shixiong? This one would rather go on night hunts and study beasts and other demons, as a head disciple this one barely had any time and had to compromise and put Huan Hua first. Now with all this free time this one can study and hone this craft to my herts content!" Honestly protagonist this one will gladly give all Huan Hua resposibilty to you!

"A bit hard with no missions?" Luo Binghe asked and Gongyi Xiao grimaced "Yes, this one thought they would be glad to be rid of me."

"You noticed that? This one thought you were oblivious." Luo Binghe dried his hands on some cloth and Gongyi Xiao had to frown.

Did He think he was stupid? Who was he? Ning Yingying!?

"It was hard not to notice, this one just pretended he couldn't see."

The harsh light returned to Luo Binghes eyes, he almost looked angry and Gongyi Xiao's grip tightened on the basket, did he say something wrong? "Why don't you fight back?"

"There doesnt seem to be a point, its understandable they probably feel bad about their own cultivation and want to take that frustration out on others. Its not something I can fault them for." He saw the jealousy, the envy and saw that when Luo Binghe bested Gongyi Xioa he saw their faces lighting up with hope.

"This one blames himself, by trying so hard with training and studying I allientated the others acted like I was too good for them. They probably leave me alone when they realise this one is human just like the rest of them."

"What if thats not what their thinking? They just want to hurt you and you make it so easy."

Luo Binghe said that before, saying he made it so easy.

Gongyi Xiao readjusted the basket on his hip and shrugged "They'll probably grow bored soon, thats if I can finally be allowed to go back on night hunts, do you know why the Old Palace Master wont let me go?"

Luo Binghe stared at him then looked away, "This one knows nothing."

Bullshit.

"This one will...make a request to the Old Palace Master and see if this will be straightened out." Gongyi blinked what-

"Wait, no Shixiong theres no need really- this one wouldn't want to waste your time!"

"Nonsense Shidi," Luo Binghe spoke a grin stretching his lips and Gongyi Xiao shivered as Luo Binghe made his way towards the door.

"This one is the Head Disciple of Huan hua, any complaints should be handled by me personally."

Luo Binghe left and Gongyi Xiao wondered if maybe he made this so much worse.

Strange after that he was then allowed free leave to join night hunts. Gongyi Xiao was so excited he had to find the Palace mistress to tell her- he had to tell someone and never realised she was the only friend he had. Which was terrible as she was soon to be Binghes wife!

He found the two and stopped running as he saw that both Luo Binghe and the mistress were alone together- shit. Was this the scene.

"Gongyi-Shidi?" Luo Binghe asked and Gongyi had to bow "Shixiong, Palace mistress. This one has to thank both of you."

Luo Binghe had a great poker face, but the amusement on the mistress face was all real.

"Oh for what?"

Gongyi Xiao looked up and pulled a face at her cheeky look. "The night hunts, this one has no clue which one asked the Palace Master but this one is grateful!"

"Here that Xiao Gongzhu? He's grateful."

"Hmm, maybe he should do something for us in return?"

Now Gongyi Xiao tensed shit what was it- he knew if the character Gongyi Xiao saw both Luo Binghe dual cultivating together it would trigger his death! Hopefully its a stupid favour and nothing so weird as that! But cuckholding and voyourism is a thing in PIDW.

"Gongy Xiao will have no choice but to join our wedding."

huh what!?

"Huh? Why waste a favour on that! this one wanted to come anyway! that is if this one was welcome!"

"Of course your welcome! You have to stand by my side! Your the closest to a brother this one has!" Gongyi Xiao eyes pricked.

He felt awful, to avoid the Palace mistress he thought she was a brat but now felt a kinship he glanced at Luo Binghe and had to swallow the lump in his throat.

"Luo-Shixiong doesn't mind."

"Xiao Gongzhu wouldn't have the wedding unless Gongyi Xiao was there."

Gongyi had to bow again "Congragulations to you both!" He spoke a wide grin on his face.

So far so good....

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

Before Luo Binghe changed and began to warm up to Gongyi Xiao, during his conistent torment and bullying there was something he was looking forward too. As the sect was remaining quiet about Luo Binghe being head disciple and it was still Gongyi as the acting head, meant that during certain events Gongyi was able to reveal his ugly mug to the world!

A festival was being produced in their town that the sect was living with. And of course all of the Huan Hua disciples can GO!

They were given an allowance and were able to have a night of fun! Like cinderella going to a ball Gongyi Xiao was looking forward to it. There was going to be fireworks and food and a break from all of his work and-

He bumped into Luo Binghe as he rounded a corner and saw the instant hatred flash across the others face before it was hidden with a polite smile.

"Careful, Shidi." Even the way he spoke scared him. Gongyi Xiao accidently uttered "I prefered your other face." Being glared at was less scary than this polite smile!

"Hm?"

"Apologies, Shixiong." Gongyi Xiao bowed "This one was just excited for the festival."

"A festival?"

"Yes, the people down town put it up every year and we get to go down and celebrate- wait...Hadn't the Palace Mistress told you?" Gongyi Xiao paused his ramblings as he asked, shouldn't both she and Binghe go together?

Luo Binghe shook his head "This one wasn't invited." Gongyi Xiao gaped "Invited- of course you're coming! Its for all the Huan hua disciples! Luo-Shixiong is a Huan disciple, so this Shidi will see you there- oh we have to go to the Old Palace Master first he gives us an allowence to spend while we're down there." Gongyi Xiao spoke and saw Luo Binghe smile become a little bit more real as he realised he could go to.

Maybe Luo Binghe needs to feed his inner child more.

"You should ask the Palace Mistress to go with you, there light lanterns near the end and release them into the sky and make a wish." Gongyi Xiao spoke, almost reaching out to lightly nudge Luo Binghe then aborted it half way when Luo Binghes eyes tracked it.

Gongyi Xiao laughed nervously "Ah- ha well, see you at the festival, Luo Shixiong." He gave a farewell and ran away feeling red eyes watching him leave.

Of course Gongyi Xiao may have been a bit biased with his...allowance. He was in the crowd already splitting of from his group of disciples, he wanted food and souvineers and yet his pocket change was just that, pocket change! He sneaked a glance and saw that both his Shidi's and Shixiong had triple the amount he had.

No fair!

He lit a candle for himself and counted, okay so he had enough to buy two maybe three things with some food and that was it. He'll just have to be happy with Window shopping!

As Gongyi Xiao walked down the stalls, watching the crowd go by he brightened at the smell of one of the stalls and saw the steam rising from the food. He was salviating. making up his mind he bought a meat bun and some tanghulu and was about to walk away until he passed a dark corner of the allyway. He glanced down and gave eye contact to twin pairs of eyes and immedietly froze.

Two children in rags and covered in much stood there eyeing his food with a hungry gaze.

Gongyi Xiao bit his lip, his own hunger vanished he could practice inedia for crying out loud!

Gongyi Xiao approached and saw one of the children tense up, fight or flight instincts kicking in.

"It's okay, here, I accidently bought too much earlier and find myself stuffed full- can you help me take these from my hands?" He passed the bun to the boy, he realised once he got closer on one leg and then passed the Stick of sticku fruit to the girl.

He patted one on the head "There we go, where's your parents?"

"Don't have any, they make us beg for money and if we dont bring any back they'll beat us up." Gongyi Xiao bit his lip. IF he was still head disciple he could've taken these kids in to the sect where the Palace Master used to wave away anything Gongyi did, as long as he was his prized gifted disciple he could ask any favour.

Gongyi Xiao never realised he would lose that.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his allowence seeing the boys eyes widen.

"Here you go, its not much." The girl teared up "Thank you gege."

Gongyi Xiao may have been conned but at this point he didn't care. "Watch out in these dark corners, there are weird people here. You should leave in case someone comes." Both nodded the boy grinned with a gap in his teeth and Gongyi heart melted as he gave them one final pat and and stood to walk away.

It felt awful to leave them, but he doubted the Palace Master would accept them not with the way the other martial siblings make comments about the working class.

Gongyi Xiao kept going through the festival gazing at the stalls and things they have to offer, he almost stumbled when two Huan hua disciples ran past with paper kites in their hand he found himself smiling. At least they were having fun.

He trailed to a stop outside the stall with fans.

He remembered using a fan at home when it got uncomfortably hot, he himself saw other people in the Huan Hua court using fans both men and women and honestly he wanted one. He was so sick of smiling all the time.

His hand reached out and picked up a golden fan, the wood was black and had a black lotus in the middle. It was so pretty.

"Does the young master like this fan?" The other asked and Gongyi smiled reaching into his pocket for his purse then paused- he gave it away earlier.

The stall owner saw the look on the others face and his own fell into an annoyed look. "How much for these fans?" A voice asked beside him and Gongyi almost moved out the way to place the fan back down as he couldn't afford it. He looked up and almost fell back in shock.

"Peak Lord Shen!" He gasped then bowed with the fan as he rememberd himself, "This disciple greets Shen-Gongzhu!"

He saw the other look down on him a sneer on his face. And Gongyi wanted to kick himself goddammit, what the hell was Luo Binghes scum shizun doing here?

The other hummed and Gongyi realising that was a dissmisal or at least he sure hoped it was! Placed the golden fan down lest he accidently walked away with it.

"How much for this fan?" Shen Qingqiu asked picking up the golden one that Gongyi Xiao was wanting. Gongyi was rooted to the spot wondering why Shen Qingqiu would buy such a guady [well Gongyi was guessing he always came to those yearly Sect meetings the palace master and Shen Qingqiu always made it known how much he hated yellow!]

And here he was buying the most trashiest [in his words] fan!

Gongyi Xiao really liked that fan he figured he could probably come back and beg the allowence from the Palace Mistress if he had to.

Shen Qingqiu opened it up with a flare then twirled it in a certain way that had Gongyi watched in fascination.

"Does the young Disciple know the fan language?" Shen Qingqiu asked then held out his green fan that had a turqoise tassle attatched. Gongyi blinked as he realised he was supposed to take it.

"N-no Peak Lord Shen." He spoke bowing as he took the fan. He could feel the eyes of Shen Qingqiu look straight through him and wanted to squirm in place.

"Any interest?" Gongyi Xioa nodded "Yes, this one found a manual and thought it was fascinating to speak to others without speaking." Shen Qingqiu was quickly fanning his face with one half covering his face before slowing down. It must be hot for him, his peak was high in the mountains with bamboo after all.

"Oh? So what do you know so far?" Gongyi Xiao blinked "Oh um, just two uh," using the fan he Shen Qingqiu gave him he demonstrated keeping it closed it placed it on the left and right cheek.

"Hmm and does this disciple know what that means?"

"The left cheek with the closed fan means no and the right side means yes."

"Very good."

It was weird hearing praise from Shen Qingqiu, Gongyi Xiao has had no experience with others praise especially since he excluded hiself from them so of course this life like his old life he was a recluse a neet. And an exceptionally thin face.

He opened his fan and covered half his face with it "Thanking Shen-Gongzhu." He spoke hiding half his face with it.

"Oh? Does Young Master Gongyi know the name of this one?" He asked and Gongyi Xiao immidietly moved his fan away from his face "No- did this one say something rude? This one apologises!"

And Shen Qingqiu laughed, but feeling as if he was insulted Gongyi Xiao's face twitched.

Shen Qingqiu closed his fan "If you want, this master is willing to teach you how to use the fans personally."

Now he almost dropped the fan but remembering it was the peak lords tightened his hold. "This- this one is sorry?"

Shen Qingqiu tilted his head up as his eyes gazed down "You heard this Master. You should come to Cang Qiong sect, leave Huan Hua and be my disciple."

...huh?

Gongyi Xiao mouth fell open "W-why would Peak Lord Shen want this one?"

"This master has been digging around," He spoke as he began to walk forward and Gongyi stumbled to follow "Some concerning letters arriving at the other Sects, makes this one curious."

Fuck- fuck, fuck!

"And this Master has done some digging." He stopped at a stall and of food that Gongyi Xiao wanted for himself and watched how Shen Qingqiu bought a stick of tanghulu.

What he stole his golden fan and now he's going to eat in front of Gongyi what a scumbag.

Until the stick was passed into his hands, Gongyi Xiao blinked surprised as Shen Qingqiu began walking and he followed in step.

"It seems as if your sect isn't treating this disciple well, if Huan hua abuses its disciples Cang Qiong qill gladly take you away from it."

Gongyi Xiao almost laughed, Shen Qingqiu had to be joking, right?

He saw Gongyi Xiaos face and sneered "You wear your heart on your sleeve. Thats a nasty habit." Gongyi Xiao schooled his expression.

"How does Peak Lord Shen know this one is being abused?"

Gongyi Xiao couldn't help it, some amusement slipped through.

"This Master noticed your hands, they're calloused and cut in certain skin. Repetitive stress not something created from a sword and too small a wound from a beast or demon. The wounds seem old as well, it can be healed in less than a week but yours still linger because the wounds aren't weeks old, they are new." Gongyi almost looked at his hands but refrained from doing so, he instead bit into a piece of sugared fruit to keep silent.

"Why would the Head Disciple be doing menial labour and be left alone? Why would he have no money to spare for the festival in his hometown?" Shen Qingqiu asked and Gongyi Xiao swallowed.

"This humble one likes working with the staff of Huan Hua palace and thinks its fair to help when this one can, and t-this one is terrible with money and spent it all at the start on food- really this is a foolish disciple too stupid for Qing Jing Peak." He said.

He did wonder why Shen Qingqiu cared or maybe was trying to find evidence of abuse, since Shen Qingqiu was a scum villain maybe he would make a fuss from projecting his own crimes to another sect!

Or maybe he did want Gongyi Xiao as a disciple maybe he was missing his punching bag Luo Binghe and wanted to replace him as soon as possible!

Heck no- he was not moving from the frying pan into the fire- literally! Cang Qiong burns to the ground even miserable beaten bloody and blue and even crying himself to sleep he is much safer in the Palace sleeping under the dragon than moving into its line of sight!

"Really? Giving all of your money away to street beggers is quite foolish." Shen Qingqiu nodded and Gongyi Xiao stopped walking.

"You saw that?" Was Shen Qingqiu watching him?

Shen Qingqiu turned around with a smirk. "This Master makes it his buisness to know everything." He stepped towards Gongyi Xiao towering over him and the other almost fell backward into a stall.

"After all of those...intriguing letters this one thought you would jump at a chance to finally ask this Master yourself about those rumours." Gongyi Xiao gulped.

It was true Gongyi Xiao was sending letters out, about Shen Qingqiu and finding dirt on him. Gongyi Xiao was foolish enough to think if he had paper evidence he could hand gift wrap him to Luo Binghe and save his own neck!

Now he had both the Scum Villain and the protagonists attention! The opposite of what he wanted!

"Master Shen wasn't the only one this disciple was investigating," Gongyi Xiao spoke standing straighter his hand gripping the green bamboo fan tightly in his hand.

"The Huan Hua palace speiciises in arrays but also is known for Justice. As a-" [Former] "Head Disciple, this one wanted to look at the history of the sects and found some inconsistencies."

Shen Qingqiu tilted his head like a snake waiting to strike.

"Most people in the sects prefer to let sleeping dogs lie, if you stick your nose in other peoples buisness they'll make an enemy out of you. Even your history of being a honourable cultivator will be ignored if you make the world your enemy."

Was this a threat?

Gongyi Xiao's eyes narrowed "The Cultivation world needs to know the truth, of men in power who hurt those weaker than themselves and get away with it."

Shen Qingqiu still looked amused the golden fan lowering down to tilt Gongyi Xiaos chin. "Does this list also include the Old Palace Master?"

Gongyi Xiao couldn't very well say it, but yes. A diary in fact of all of the Palace Masters misdeeds all hidden safely under a wooden floorboard in one of the rooms of the Huan Hua Palace.

Gongyi couldn't express but a slow tilt of his head downwards as he kept eye contact had Shen Qingqiu break out into a grin.

Well in his own way it was small for others but Gongyi Xiao found himself staring.

The fact that the Scum Villain was smiling at him made him realise his survival rate has probably dropped considerably.

"Very well then, this Master will contact the old Palace Master about a disciple conference, this Master will personally teach you fan language and would like to foster relations between the Sects of Huan hua and Cang Qiong" Shen Qingqiu closed his fan placing the tip to touch his ear on his right "This Master awaits your response."

And he disapeared into the crowd and Gongyi Xiao found himself holding his fan.

He glanced down at it eyes furrowed. Was this...a bad omen?

He pressed his lips together starting to feel the slow claws of panic gripping his chest, anxiety wasn't something new, he was starting to have nightmares of the Huan Hua disciples kicking him out of the palace, weirdly from a cliff?

Or times when the Palace mistress was chasing him in the maze of the water prison calling him pathetic and criticizing his man hood that was a weird one. Or the same dreams of being killed forgotten and alone, and other times Luo Binghe was in it. Of course he would dream of him but the stuff he spoke about didn't make sense.

Gongyi Xiao would always ask him if he found the secret entrance of the library. Which of course there was none in the Huan Hua Palace so if Binghe was using his dream magic and found that Gongyi Xiao was talking a loud of crap? well- jeez no wonder the other was angry.

Still he couldn't exactly toss this fan into a river, if Shen Qingqiu learned he 'lost' his fan he might actually whip and beat him up. Disciple from another sect be damned!

But then again...he pursed his lips spreading the fan wide. If he was trusted by Shen Qingqiu...wouldn't that give Luo Binghe an opening. He remembered reading in the chapters that it took a lot of time and precision to invite Cang Qiong to Huan hua that wasn't the yearly Sect meeting. And he couldn't let Shen Qingqiu know he was alive yet, but this could be helpful to him!

"See this one told you!" He looked up to see Luo Binghe with the Palace mistress clinging to his arm along with a few Huan Hua disciples crowding around them.

One pointed a finger "See he has his fan! Gongyi Xiao was making plans to leave for another sect!"

Gongyi Xiaos eyes widened "What? Thats not true!"

Luo Binghe was already watching Gongyi Xiao, and he knew fan language and felt himself growing angry when he saw his Shizun acting so familiar with Gongyi Xiao.

The way Gongyi Xiaos used his Shizuns fan to say 'this one is willing.'

Luo Binghe almost spat blood at the sight, watching his Shizun flirt shamelessly and Gongyi Xiao seemed to be taking it too well!

The demon lord no longer felt that he had to worry about his wives with Gongyi Xiao as his interest obviously laid elsewhere! He could see the panic on the others face slowly turn to irritation.

"This one has no intention of leaving Huan Hua," He spoke then shoke his head "Only death will release this one from his duties as a disciple of Huan Hua Palace. Shen-Gonzhu only offered to teach this one fan language- none of you know it!" At this the others were quiet as it was true, none knew or even wanted to learn fan language.

The Palace mistress perked up "Fan language? Whats that?" Gongyi Xiao brightened "A secret language to communicate to others without speaking." She immedietly shook Luo Binghes arm.

"This one also wants to learn! Binghe-Shiziong do you know fan language?"

"This one does not."

Gongyi Xiao closed the fan clasping it in both hands as he looked up at Luo Binghe "This one wanted to learn from Shen-Senior. to [word for alliances and making stronger bonds] As a member of the Huan hua palace wishes to make strong ties with other Sects thats what the letters originally were from." Gongyi Xiao bowed to the group "This one never cleared up the misunderstanding, this disciple never wished to leave Huan Hua only wanted to create stronger connections. As a head disciple thought it was imperative to make allies." He stood up to look Luo Binghe in the eye then the others.

One of the disciples sneered "Bullshit, you've been caught red handed - literally! You're carrying Shen Qingqius favour and want to be a disciple of the Cang Qiong Sect!"

Gongyi shook his head horror on his face "If this one wanted to leave for another sect this one had plenty of years to do so."

Luo Binghe spoke "Enough, it's clear Gongyi Xiao had no intention of leaving. There's no need to bully him."

The Palace mistress humped "Luo-Shixiong is right, this is a festival! We should be having fun!" She tugged Binghes arm "Come on Shixiong, the lanterns are this way." Gongyi watched as a small mistress pulled the giant of a shixiong who tumbled after her and felt his own face split into a smile. Luo Binghe should be having fun. He hoped Shen Qingqiu didn't ruin it for him.

________

Gongyi Xiao lost his fan.

And of course the Old Palace master wanted to send Gongyi Xiao to the conference swap, he pulled Gongyi Xiao aside to remind him to report back anything suspicious of the peak lord.

Uh yeah he would report Gongyi Xiaos dead body if he didn't find this fan! He left it right at his desk to be safe!

If he turned up to the Cang Qiong peak without it he was beyond dead!

Upset, even after turning his room inside out had nothing to show for it. He went to bed hopefully to sleep it off and wake up with a clear head and can think of something else until then. Of course his dreams were filled with anxiety too, he dreamed he was in his room pulling everything apart, even destroying the floorboards he had a habit on hiding things in there.

"Lost something, Shidi?" A voice asked he turned to see Luo Binghe and blinked "Ah Shixiong, the sun is going down." He gestured at his window where the sunlight flickered before vanishing.

Another stress induced dream, he was looking for his fan and couldn't find it. The only reason he even wanted to go to Shen Qingqiu was to create an opening for Luo Binghe. Without it theres no point- but if he makes Shen Qingqiu have more reason to hate Huan Hua would make it harder to get him here for the trial.

"This one can't find Peak Lord Shens fan, its missing and this one has to find it!" Luo Binghe crouched down beside him tilting his head.

"Why is that?"

"Without the fan theres no point going, the whole reason this one is even doing this is for Luo-Shixiong."

"...Why are you doing this for this lord?" Luo Binghe asked after a while and Gongyi Xiao glanced up at him.

"Luo-Shixiong was hurt by Shen Qingqiu, there were rumours of his abuse and the fact that Binghe is here instead of returning to Cang Qiong means something awful happened." He went back to looking around in a mad scramble.

"This one will do anything to help Luo-Shixiong even help find him an opening to bring Shen Qingqiu to justice!" Gongyi Xiao bit his lip trying to find something but found nothing.

"Luo-Shixiong has done nothing to support his Shidi, why would you waste your time with scum like that?"

Gongyi Xiao glared "Don't say that! Luo Binghe is a good disciple and had done nothing wrong! Its obvious that he has rotten luck and the world has been too cruel to him."

Now he was annoyed at this dream and that he lost the fan. He slumped against the wall pouting, might as well feel sorry for himself who was going to see it.

"This one is going to have to cancel, this one only wanted to support Binghe as a martial brother should."

Luo Binghe stood up and moved around the room, Gongyi Xiao watched. The more he watched the more he suddenly had a sinking feeling.

Most of his dreams have been strange and different, but the more this dream wore on the more Gongyi Xiao was aware this was a dream. He subtly glanced at his hands and counted, it was something he tried for fun when he remembered he was dreaming and found the more he counted the more fingers would appear.

Here they stayed consistent, Gongyi Xiao tensed. This was Luo Binghe- his dream malipulation.

"Shidi." The other spoke and Gongyi gave him his entire attention and saw how Binghe went towards his dresser and placed his hand in his disciple robe pocket and pulled out the fan.

"You must have put it in here at the festival and forgot."

Gongyi Xiao blinked "Oh- oh! That could've happened! Thank you Luo-Shixiong."

If he woke up is that where it'll be? Gongyi Xiao had no clue...

When Gongyi awoke the next morning he felt pure panic- if Luo Binghe was in his dreams he was screwed he can't even remember half of his dreams what if he said something stupid!?

He looked at his robe and felt trepidition. He walked over in his under robes and checked the pockets.

Nothing. No Fan.

Gongyi Xiao relaxed. So the dream was a fluke, thank god for that. Even so he had to be careful just in case. It wont help his anxiety being wary of both his dreams and the waking world.

And the worse of it? he was supposed to travel to Cang Qiong mountain without Shen Qingqius fan. He may as well chisel his gravestone now.

As Gongyi Xiao was at the entrance of Huan hua about to mount his sword he heard the Palace mistress yell for his name. He turned to see both the Palace Mistress and Luo Binghe accompany her as they came towards him.

"Gongyi Xiao! We found your fan!"

Gongyi Xiao almost stumbled over on air, as Luo Binghe held out the fan with his fan "You should be more careful with this, Shidi."

Gongyi Xiao took it and noticed how warm the handle was, he looked up at Binghe with a grateful look.

"Luo-Shixiong! Thank you very much!" He bowed, now he doesn't have to worry anymore! And he can be helpful to Binghe!

Luo Binghe spoke "The Palace Master told this one that you are to report to this disciple about all meetings and correspondance with peak lord Shen." Gongyi Xiao blinked, oh- oh!

Gongyi Xiao perked up "This one will report to Luo-Shixiong upon his return!" Luo Binghe was his handler and with this good news.

He could prove his loyalty to Luo Binghe! And avoid his terrible ending!

"Go- you don't want to keep Peak Lord Shen waiting."

The little princess gasped "Wait- Gongyi, be careful! This one heard rumours of Shen Qingqius leacherous reputation! You should be careful and tell us if he does anything!"

Neither noticed Luo Binghes gaze darkening, especially when Gongyi Xiao laughed.

"Please Shiemei," He mounted his sword looking self assured "Shen Qingqiu only likes women, so this one is perfectly safe!"

Now both Luo Binghe and Xiao Gongzhu blinked as they watched Gongyi Xiao sped away on his sword.

"Binghe," The palace mistress spoke suddenly getting a bad feeling.

"If anything happened to Gongyi Xiao- if Shen Qingqiu tried anything with him." Luo Binghe cupped her face his own eyes matching her vitriol to protect their martial sibling.

"This one promises, any harm to Gongyi Xiao this one will repay tenfold." She relaxed in his grip then tensed again biting her lip.

"B-but Gongyi Xiao never tells anyone his troubles what if he pretends nothings wrong to not disrupt sect relations?"

"It wont come to that, this one will take care of Gongyi Xiao and make him feel safe enough to tell him any of his burdens."

Luo Binghe had originally written of Gongyi Xiao, but the martial sibling appeared like a fairy, spirting him away to the Huan hua and tried to help Binghe where he could, Binghe was distracted with organising his marriages with the Qin siblings and his marriage to the palace mistress and establishing his place here he forgot about the ex-head disciple.

Now he found this shidi of his, interesting and strangely loyal from what his dreams told Binghe. He felt as if he shared the Palace mistresses fire to protect Gongyi who strangely wormed his way to Luo Binghes affections. Now seeing the man fly away towards his Scum Villain he couldn't help but feel as if he was too late to stop him. If Luo Binghe planned this right he could gain Gongyi Xiao's loyalty and both could stage a cou to get rid of the Palace Master.

Until this meeting, Luo Binghe would just have to bide his time.

__________________________________________________

A/N:

Okay I called Shen 'Gongzhu' at one part thats a mistake- I forgot what the name for senior/daoist priest was called the thing disciples call and older cultivator who is NOT their shizun and the name began with a G and I forgot what it was- I'll fix it later. Also this is TOOOO long so I'm going to have to split it into parts and post my writings here- I dont think of my story ideas as linear I just write 'scenes' tiny chapters in random parts then once I create it try to write the filler/timeline after. So if this is flip flopping back and forth sorry-

I thought it would be a cool parralell that Luo Binghe who was a white lotus then blackened then see's Gongyi Xiao and comes to the horrible realisation that Shen Qingqiu was right. He saw right through Binghe and saw that something was wrong with him. Binghe see's himself in the way Gongyi is bullied and ostricised by his group and finds sick delight from it. But when he see's how Gongyi takes the abuse there are no dark looks, no mutterings he always takes the abuse with a smile and it burns Luo Binghe. Why doesn't he fight back? So he keeps poking wanting to see Gongyi Xiao prove to him that its a front, he's only acting nice but deep down he's scum like the Huan hua disciples, like his Shizun like everyone. But when Gongyi Xiao keeps proving him wrong makes Luo Binghe realise he's acting just like his Shizun. Nothing more than a beast.

Part two: Here

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Chapter 20: Visitations

You know the drill. Don't keep reading unless you love more spoilers than there are books in this very long series.

This chapter starts with a crescent moon and stars. I believe it's new to this book (Selene's chapters last time having either Portal Stone or Cairhien symbols), and it means Lanfear is up to no good.

For an instant Mat continued to stare at her; then suddenly he realized he was standing there naked. Face scarlet, he shambled to the bed, pulled the blanket around himself like a cloak, and more fell than sat down on the edge of the mattress.

The show robbed us of naked Mat adventures and I for one am deeply offended. Also these boys are weird with how nudity-averse they are except for their ability to forget about it just as a woman is about to check them out. You'd think he'd have freaked out a little sooner, even here.

For a moment he wished that Rand, whatever he had become, or even Perrin were there to advise him.

Mat is probably the least believable of the three to be having this concern considering how many one-night stands he's going to pull off.

“I would not have visited you in this way, Mat, except that I was here in the . . . in the White Tower—” She smiled as if the name amused her—“for another purpose, and I wanted to see all of you.”

Ugh and didn't I just eliminate Lanfear from contention in the whole Grey Man thing? Guess that was premature. Makes some sense she'd try to be cleaning up that mess, but then why not fuck up Egwene and crew at any point in the many months they were virtually defenseless? Did Mat's luck protect them somehow? Also it's a little funny Lanfear finds the name White Tower at all amusing, she's really condescending if she begrudges the new Aes Sedai a new name for their new HQ. But then she also mocks their healing so no surprise there.

“You may have seen me,” she said finally. “Somewhere. Call me Selene.”

Girl what. When did he see you? You pulled Rand to another dimension (or followed him there, whatever), and ditched him once he reached Cairhien. Then you briefly caused drama in Falme but not where Mat was. You invading his dreams maybe?

“Let us just say that I am someone whose interests coincide with yours. These . . . Aes Sedai mean to use you, but you will like it, in the main, I think. And accept it. There is no need to convince you to seek out glory.”

Lanfear once again drastically misunderstands the psychology of everyone around her, news at eleven. Mat doesn't seek out glory so much as get cornered into it when circumstances are such that the only way to do the right thing is to be a hero.

“One of those pathetic followers of Ba’alzamon who think he will give them immortality and power? I follow no one. There is one man I could stand beside, but I do not follow.”

She's so prideful she doesn't even care outright telling a stranger that she's loyal to no one but herself, even though her schemes absolutely could get her in trouble with the shadow.

“By listening to what they tell you, and what they do not. Will they tell you your father came to Tar Valon?”

This is the weirdest little detail because I don't think the visit ever really gets mentioned beyond this chapter and it feels like "Two dudes from the Two Rivers went to Tar Valon and back in between the devastating Trolloc attacks" should come up sometimes.

“Just remember that there is another choice. You need not be a puppet for the White Tower or prey for Ba’alzamon’s Darkfriends. The world is more complex than you can imagine. Do as these Aes Sedai wish for the present, but remember your choices. Will you do that?”

Lanfear accomplishes so little for the Shadow or herself with this speech that I'm still not sure why she bothered. Was Mat just practice for a boy she cared about? Did Jordan intend for Mat and Lanfear to cross paths again (in a meaningful, not tangential to her stalking Rand in disguise way that is) and then just never had room for it? Mat is legit the most reliable of the three ta'veren by a great margin and he never really pursues his own choices, just keeps getting roped into one good deed after another.

And she had not asked him to conceal her visit from the Aes Sedai.

Naturally this is the only thing Mat does end up doing, so I suppose as far as sewing discord goes Lanfear did an okay job but it's not like Mat would have sworn an oath to Siuan if she hadn't dropped in.

He brushed aside a redhawk’s feather, a smooth, striped rock he had liked the colors of, his razor, and his bone-handled pocketknife, and freed his wash-leather purse from some coils of spare bowstring.

When it comes to collecting odd, shiny things, Mat's already pretty much a raven, so he'll fit right into Seanchan if you ignore all the other cultural differences and also the fact that they're not a very raven-like people at all.

They rattled as he pulled them out, but he still popped off the tight-fitting round caps. Everything was as it should be. Five dice carved with symbols, for crowns, and five marked with spots. The spotted dice would do for a number of games, but more men seemed to play crowns than anything else.

The dice get more attention than any other item of clothing in his inventory, probably in part because all of his cool gear (hat, spear, eyepatch) is still to come.

The Amyrlin’s eyebrows rose at the sight of him standing there with the blanket hanging from his shoulders and his purse and dice cups in his hands. “I don’t think you will need those for a while yet, my son,” she said dryly. “Put them up and get back to bed before you fall on your face.”

If Leane hadn't been there and Mat hadn't been obviously about to fall over, who thinks Siuan would totally have played a friendly game or two with Mat?

“Men always seem to refuse to admit they are sick until they’re sick enough to make twice as much work for women. Then they claim they’re well too soon, with the same result.”

*looks pointedly at the women in this series* Yes Siuan, this is absolutely a male trait and not anything else.

They were both looking at him, now. He cleared his throat. “Uh . . . Mother.”

It's funny that Mat cares more about propriety than Siuan or Leane do, even though he's bad at it. It meshes nicely with how he'll eventually be the first one to treat Egwene with the respect her station demands.

“Your name and description are on their way to the bridge guards,” the Amyrlin said, “and the dockmasters. I’ll not try to hold you inside the Tower, but you will not leave Tar Valon until you are well. Should you try to hide in the city, hunger will drive you back here eventually, or if it doesn’t, we will find you before you starve.”

I think Siuan is going for a "cards on the table" approach, not recognizing that Mat's so suspicious of Aes Sedai (and good at cards) that his first instinct is to assume she's hidden something up her sleeve as well.

It might be true. Aes Sedai never lied, but there were too many mights and mays in it for him.

And this is the other problem: Siuan doesn't know the full hand she's playing with, so complete honesty isn't as much of a boon here as it might be if she were in control of the situation.

The Keeper took it up immediately. “We did not know where you were then, Mat. I told him so, and he left before the heavy snows. I gave him some gold to make the journey home easier.”

Note that they had an inkling of where Mat be at that particular point, so Leane's "truthful" statement is still effectively a lie of omission: they were on the Hunt for the Horn, even if the Tower wasn't sure where the hunt was.

“As far as I know,” the Amyrlin said smoothly, “the boy is well enough, but who can say? I have seen him only once, the time I saw you, in Fal Dara.”

Note how Siuan's lie here is to hide the truth from Leane. There's a delay in info from Moiraine, so while Siuan at this moment has no reason to think Rand is hurt, she can't promise it. She also knows that he's the DR with an unhealable wound so saying "he's doing great" would be total BS. But she adds the detail about only seeing Rand once to make him seem unimportant to her, a statement she probably wouldn't worry about if Leane weren't right there. Hence why she sends her away immediately.

She was on her feet and looming over him so fast he hardly saw her move. “You play games with me, boy, and I will make you weep for your mother to come running. I have no time for games, and neither do you. Now, do—you—remember?”

And now of course Siuan has only cemented her position as untrustworthy in Mat's eyes. Good job girl!

She put an elbow on the arm of the chair and propped her chin on her hand. Her eyes never left him. “Would you prefer the alternative?”

Though honestly this is probably the best course to take with Mat. "You're damn right we could have let you die but didn't. Why is that a bad thing again?"

“You remind me of my uncle Huan. No one could ever pin him down. He liked to gamble, too, and he’d much rather have fun than work. He died pulling children out of a burning house. He wouldn’t stop going back as long as there was one left inside. Are you like him, Mat? Will you be there when the flames are high?”

And also she gets points for effortlessly summarizing his character for the next dozen books after just two meetings with Mat, so really she's coming out ahead in this conversation because actually making him a willing ally would be impossible without compulsion.

“I do not want to tell anyone. I wish nobody knew. Why do you want to keep it such a secret? Don’t you trust your Aes Sedai?”

Would you prefer that she did trust her Aes Sedai, Mat?

“Are you telling me Darkfriends could come after me here? I thought the White Tower could keep Darkfriends out.” He remembered what Selene had said about the Black Ajah, and wondered what the Amyrlin would say to that.

A great way to find out would be to tell her. No? That's cool. Absolutely nothing bad could come of Siuan not being aware of who's in the Tower.

Selene had been right about some things; but the Amyrlin had told him she meant to use him, and how. In a way. There were too many holes in what she had said to suit him, too many holes she could slip something deadly through. The Amyrlin wanted something, and Selene wanted something, and he was the rope they were tugging between them. He thought he would rather face Trollocs than be caught between those two.

Really it's a shame that Mat's prejudice against the Aes Sedai can't make him see that Siuan is a much better one in comparison to fucking Lanfear. He never really gets over it at all, which is realistic but still a bit disappointing. Perhaps in Seanchan he'll come around when his options are "sul'dam" or "damane".

Next time: A third new chapter icon in a row?!

[inkwell-and-dagger]

[Don't Forget The Past.]

A/N: get flashbanged

CW: whumper-turned-whumpee, mentioned past torture, murder, implied multiple whumpers

DYNAMICS:

Rayan Hyacinth (he/it) — Whumpee

Cora Maguire (past Rayan) (they/them) — past Whumper

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Cora grinned, finishing the final knot in the rope tying their victim up. They no longer cared about how pretty the rope was or how secure it was, or even how their victim looked. No; all they had to do was satiate that hungry voice in the back of their head wanting, needing, pleading for just one more kill, just one more stranger's blood on their hands.

They didn't even waste time, quickly ending said strangers life with a knife to the heart. Cora hated the fact that, most likely, this person — this innocent person they'd just murdered — had a life outside their pathetically small basement; perhaps children, or a loving partner, or just— something worth living for. And Cora had just ripped them away from the living world without a second thought.

They hated it; but they ignored that part. Whatever they had to do, they'd do it. Just to shut up that fucking urge to kill.

The urges to kill had gone with time, for the most part. Now that Cora— Rayan, now that Rayan had learnt his lesson, that stupid fucking "voice" had diminished an exceptional amount. Sure, he slipped, but he was getting better.

Well, he was getting better outside of Foster's basement, that is. Everyone's basement really.

He had also become known during his killing spree all those years ago. Oh, how young and naive he was, giving into little urges as quickly as they'd come to his mind. Now he was thirty-five — or, forty, he didn't know; ever since the "incident", as he'd deemed it, he'd stopped aging past thirty-five and had just given up celebrating his birthday and doing all the math — he quickly regretted murdering. Because now, Cora's victims who had either ran away with their lives or they spared, were hunting for him.

It was like a game of cat and mouse; Rayan, obviously, being the mouse — who else would it be? — that was running from the metaphorical cat, that being The Survivors. Each time they'd try and keep him in the basement, he'd escape with new wounds and new reasons to fear for his eternal life. This had gone on for.. what was it now, years? He didn't even know. At least Zayn and Ivy were nice to him, taking care of him when he needed to be tended to and staying awake with him on nights he could hardly sleep.

He knew he deserved it, and yet a small part of him was convinced he didn't. He was an ex-serial killer, he'd harmed and hurt so many innocent people and families, and now he'd finally reaped what he had sown and gotten what he deserved. But, this torment had gone on for so long. He could hardly squish in a moment of peace in his otherwise tense day to day life. Was it really necessary to continue?

Well, his opinion didn't matter. The Survivors only saw him as a feral creature, something to lock up from the outside world until it wilted like a pretty flower and became docile. But, Rayan wouldn't dare to give into The Survivors. Not until they'd harmed him to the point he could hardly function — though he hated to admit they were close anyway — until not even his immortality could save him. Then, he'd give in.

He hated that there was only a matter of time until that would become a reality.

—> —> —> —> —> —>

[woodworkzz]

Ship: IceHell padlock

Prompt word: grief

(hey, do you guys wanna see something sad?)

Warnings: gore, death, hallucinations, suicide. Also if you're icky about maggots they're mentioned once so maybe sit this one out

A concept's body might be strong, but their mind is very weak. Their emotions are always intense and unpredictable, and what'd be a tragic, but bearable event to a human might be the breaking point of a concept.

Concepts, for being mostly immortal, struggle to comprehend the death of one of their own. They don't know how to properly grieve. How to understand and digest the death of someone meant to live forever?

A concept's death might be another concept's descent into madness.

She had planned a good ambush, he was willing to admit that. Paige, however, didn't account for his sword pointed out in front of him, and impaled herself on the blade. She now stood on weakened legs, looking down at the black metal with wide eyes as it was painted over with a coat of vermilion.

"Fuck." She rasped out, her hands hovering over the length of the sword, yet doing nothing. She coughs up the blood accumulating on her punctured lung, and the curls on her hair slowly begin to straighten.

"Tough luck, dear." Tony replied, his face unreadable except for his glistening yellow eyes. He sweeps her feet from under her and Paige crashes to the floor, the sword recklessly ripped out of her ribcage as she went down. The blood spurts out, now running wildly across her dress and the floorboards. She makes a choked noise as she hits the floor, coughing up more blood.

Tony waited, even expected, for Paige to counterattack, to kick at his shins or at least run away. But she just lied down where he'd dropped her, looking at him with melancholy as blood poured out of the gaping wound between her ribs. A sensation of unease crawled down his spine and settled in his stomach.

"What, are you dead already?" He questions bitterly, nudging at her waist with the tip of his boot. A new burst of blood seeps from her mouth and runs down the sides of her jaw as her chest convulses. Weakly, she shakes her head no.

"Did you give up, dear? What a shame..." He grins. "Would you like a mercy kill?"

"Yes, but-" Another coughing fit, and another mouthful of blood seeps out. "Before you do that, I have to say something."

"Go ahead, then." He replies, posing his sword right over her heart.

"I love you."

His eyebrows rise, and his expression changes to one of a pleasant surprise. "Adorable. You know, Paige," He steps on her left shoulder, pinning her in place. Something snaps. "I love myself too."

In one swift move, the sword pierces her chest and slices through her heart. She barely had time to let out a pathetic little gasp before going fully limp. With little care, he pulls out his sword from her mutilated chest, choosing to leave her body where it was.

Paige had acted so strange... Once she got up, he could ask why so little resistance. With that thought, Tony made his way upstairs. He needed a shower after all that.

Once he got out, though, with his hair still dripping and a towel wrapped around his hips, he looked down the stairs for any sign of Paige's recovery. Only to find her laid down in the exact same way he had left her, the gashes in her chest as open as he had made them.

Perhaps he had done more damage than he'd imagined, he concluded. And with that, Tony headed to his room to get dressed and finish some projects.

Perhaps two hours after the fact, Tony heard the shocked exclamations from their three little victims coming from the living room. That irked his curiosity. Was Paige still there, unconscious and healing, after two hours? If she was, she should be nearly done by now. No need for such a reaction.

He trots downstairs, only to find Paige exactly as he had left her two hours ago. Still on the floor, still with her chest torn open, still dead. Tony found that, now that the adrenaline and thrill of the hunt came down, the scene became much more unsettling, especially since Paige refused to heal and get up already.

For reasons not even he could explain, Tony carried Paige to his room, setting her down on his bed. A flashlight made the wounds glisten, now crusted and dark, barely hiding the shattered bones underneath. She felt abnormally cold, and her hair seemed more and more opaque by the minute.

If he had any doubt before, now he was certain something was wrong. But he'd rather ignore the possible outcomes. He changed into his night clothes and tucked Paige in before climbing into bed, mindless to the congealed blood sticking to the covers. He drifted to sleep as his hand held hers, already cold and stiff.

.

The room awoke with the pungent smell of decaying matter and blood. Not that Tony noticed, since he had grown used to it during the night.

"Paige, dear," He sweetly calls, tapping at her hollow cheeks. Her head tilts towards him, unresponsive. "It's time to wake up."

She doesn't move an inch. He reaches for her shoulder and shakes her, ignoring the unnatural way her shoulder dislocated from its socket. "Paige, wake up."

Again, no reply from her. "Fine," he huffs. "Keep sleeping, then. I won't wait for you."

He dresses up and settles down his hair as best as he can before walking downstairs towards the kitchen. The trio is already there, and curiously enough, they all wince as he approaches.

"Good morning, you three." He bluntly greets, pushing Harry out of the way so he could grab his favorite mug. "Paige is sleeping in again. Leave the table set for her once you're done."

Harry and Robin eye each other with unease. Besides the awful smell of stale blood and rot Tony seemed to not notice, he also struggled to understand that something was wrong with Paige. Normally, their bodies don't rot or smell like much other than blood before they heal. From the scent alone, it was clear to the rest of the household that Paige wasn't healing.

"Tony." Harry called, having gathered just enough courage to do so.

"Yes?"

"... I don't think Paige is coming back."

Tony chuckles, awfully jovial as he sips on his fresh coffee. "What do you mean? We always come back! You should know that better than anyone."

"Tony, your room smells like something died in there. We both know Paige isn't sleeping in. I don't know what you did, but she's not healing this time."

"Yes she is."

"She isn't, man. She's rotting up there-"

"She is not rotting!" He yells, and takes a second to catch his breath. His yellow eyes frantically wander around the room as he shakily adjusts his hair. "She's just... Sleeping. She'll wake up soon, and... And you're just trying to get under my skin."

This time, Robin spoke up. "Tony, we all know it's hard to accept death,"

"Paige isn't dead!"

"But you can't keep her corpse in your room! In two or three days it'll be filled with maggots! Is that what you want for her?"

Tony's shoulders slump, his yellow eyes fixated on the floor despite his insistence in keeping his chin up. The image of maggots festering inside Paige, eating her entrails and desecrating her flesh brought him a sense of guilt and dread he never thought he'd feel.

He mutters. "Give her time. If she doesn't wake up until noon, I'll rid us of the body myself."

"You wanna keep a corpse in the house-"

"Robin, leave him alone. Noon isn't too far, we can just open the windows to air the house out later."

Robin huffs, but eventually agrees.

Noon comes and goes, and Paige hasn't moved a muscle. Without a single word, Tony carries her out to the backyard and buries her amidst her precious garden. The flowers and leaves seem to bow in mourning as she's lowered to the ground and covered by dirt, becoming one with her beloved plants, feeding their beauty and their venom the same way they had fed hers.

He doesn't come back inside for hours, lying down next to thorns and leaves and a freshly covered grave. The first signs of a storm begin to form, and as the rain pours he can only think about how she'd love to watch the storm. He doesn't care about the water soaking his hair, or the mud dirtying his clothes. If he could will the plants to take over his body with their roots and consume him alive, he surely would do so. It would only be fair, now that he had taken Paige away forever.

Or maybe not, a small voice in his head chimes. Maybe she's still here in a way. Maybe she's watching the rain with him right now.

That's a much more comfortable thought, he hazily concludes, as his body temperature quickly rises. He could almost feel her there, hear her footsteps... His vision was blurry, but if Tony stretched out his hand, he was sure he'd find Paige's hair sprawled next to him. He could still hear her laughter ring in his ears, and her skirt ruffles as she leans down next to him.

"Come on," A feminine voice whispers in his ear. "Let's go inside. It's cold out here."

He found himself in a trance, following that wispy image of Paige into the house without even thinking. She disappears at the doorway, and he searches for her with the dependency of a dog looking for its owner.

"Paige?" He calls, looking around the house. "Where'd you go?"

"Up here!" She calls, from the top of the staircase.

He sprints after her, watching as she calmly turns around and enters his room. Her hand makes a motion as if to push the door open further, but it doesn't move.

He rushes upstairs and leans into his room, catching his breath. Paige was sat on his bed, the mattress unaffected by her weight.

"Paige, what happened to you today?"

"Nothing happened, silly. I'm right here, see?" She giggles, and warmth spreads across his chest at the sound of her laughter.

He sighs. "You just seemed so... Sad. You didn't even fight back."

"I'm sorry about that. I guess I was just having a bad day."

"That's alright. Just don't leave me alone like that again. Please."

"I won't."

.

After a restless attempt at sleeping, Tony bitterly gets up from the bed, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead as he adjusts his clothes and puts on his slippers. His thoughts were previously plagued by visions of blood and broken bones tainting perfectly white skin, but now a glass of water was his main interest.

He goes out to the corridor, glancing with annoyance at the heavy rain pattering against the windows, and almost makes his way to the staircase before he spots a black and white figure standing at the far end of the corridor. It was pitch black, but Paige's dress and her face seemed dimly luminous, reflecting onto her hair and the dark ink which coated her limbs.

She doesn't seem happy, he brilliantly concluded in his half awake state.

"You were just gonna sleep it off, huh?" She called out, her arms crossing over her chest.

"What-"

"You don't even regret it!" She shrieks. "You ruined me, you left me to rot and you don't even care!"

Tony raises both hands defensively. "Paige, please, it's not like that..."

"You miserable excuse of a man, you couldn't even say you loved me back as I died in front of you!"

Paige uncrosses her arms, and Tony notices a small red stain on her chest. The stain grows with ever flowing blood, ripping effortlessly through her dress to show ragged, mangled flesh and broken ribs.

"I didn't know..." He whined, tears filling his eyes. "I thought you'd come back."

"I wasted my last words to say I loved you! And you used them to stroke your own ego... You disgust me." Blood poured out of the gaping wound in Paige's chest, dirtying her skirt. Slightly to the left, her heart hanged open with a clean slice.

"I'm sorry, I'll do better-"

Thunder roared outside, and a flash of lightning made Paige disappear for only a second. Her laughter, however, echoed in his ears even louder than the storm.

"You don't have any time left for that. You'll just have to live with what you've done. And I'll be here to remind you of what you did to me." Her eyes widen, and her grin grows. "Forever."

Tony didn't know when he had ended up on the floor, gripping onto the railing with such strength the wood began to rapidly age. But he came to that realization as the feeling of Harry's hand shaking him by the shoulder got him out of his trance. Robin handed him his much desired glass of water, and both listened as he explained his encounter.

"Dude, I know this is hard to hear, but Paige isn't here anymore. You didn't really see her."

"Yes I did, and... And she was yelling at me, you must've heard that!"

"We heard you talking to yourself. That's why we came to check on you."

Tony looks back at the end of the corridor, but Paige is nowhere to be found. Her laughter echoes, very faintly, in his mind.

Lightning flashes once again, and the silhouette of a woman towering over the three of them causes Tony to wince and hide his head in his hands. Paige's eyes flashed with the lightning, pinprick pupils aimed at him.

"... You still seeing her?"

"She's right here..." He mutters, breaking down sobbing.

"She isn't, that's all in your head!" Robin speaks, perhaps a tad impatiently. "That's your brain making you feel guilty. Paige didn't come back to haunt you."

"You could say she's haunting him, in a way."

.

"What do you want from me?" He sobbed, while Paige's apparition stood balanced on one foot, weightless, on the edge of his bed.

Paige grins at him. "I want you to never forget what you've done. But," She walks across the mattress, carelessly stepping over him without any weight, both her feet stopping on his ribcage. Even with her lack of mass, Tony feels the lack of space in his lungs. "You could do something for me."

"What is it?"

"You know," She leaps to the floor, landing on the hardwood floors next to his bed without so much as a thump. The chest of her dress is once again a pristine white. "They didn't throw away my pills."

Tony waits in silence for her to continue.

"You know what to do," Paige smiles, almost sweetly so, and signs with her head towards the door. "If they taste too bad, put them in your coffee, dear."

"Of course, love." He nods, mindlessly making his way to the kitchen.

Three medicine flasks worth of pills were dumped into boiling water, with no bother to read their labels. Tony always found those chemical compositions too hard to understand, anyway. He didn't know exactly how Paige did it, but this amount of medicine should be enough, regardless of what they're used for.

At last, the dark liquid was done, served in Tony's favorite mug. He didn't know why, but once he was faced with the task of drinking it, he suddenly felt discouraged. Should he really..?

Paige's dress shone from the doorway, her pale face displaying a kind expression rarely seen on her. "Go ahead," Her voice was soft and gentle. "We'll see each other soon, darling."

That trance took over him once again, and with a blank mind he downed the entire mug at once, ignoring the unfamiliar bitter taste of the medicine overpowering the coffee itself. He finishes the cup with a dry heave, his tongue gagging him in protest of the overly bitter taste.

"Very well, dear!" Paige smiled, clapping. "I'll see you soon!"

"Before you go," Tony calls, already feeling his legs go weak as his stomach rebels against the revolting drink. "Can I tell you something?"

"Go ahead!" She excitedly says, ignoring how Tony drops to the floor with trembling hands and a dry mouth.

He takes a second to catch his breath, struggling to keep the mixture in his stomach.

"I..." A spasm takes over him, his body curling uncomfortably tight into itself. His throat dries and his airways tighten near completely. "Love you... Too."

"Adorable, hun. I'll be waiting for you!"

With that, Paige vanishes, leaving Tony trembling and contorting his own body unnaturally on the cold kitchen floor. His eyes were dry and pained, but his body was dripping with sweat on account of the violent shivers that took over him. He hit his own head on the tiled floor multiple times, and along with the medicine overriding his brain, his sights were quickly going out. A disgusting foam dribbled out of his mouth, choking him as it crawled up his throat.

But none of that mattered. He didn't want a quick, or painless death. He'd do anything, no matter how complex or excruciating it'd be. He'd go through this a thousand times if it were necessary.

He just wanted to be with Paige again.

[pain-is-too-tired]

Okay-

1- completely didn't remember that he was more vocally aware of what it would really be like for humanity and other demigods if Kronos won. Like I always written him to have ignore the fact that Kronos and the Titans didn't really care about demigods. But to actually bring it up as the fact "of only those who the strongest and serve him-" MY DUDE. WTF.

2- Proving himself and hubris i think are very big contenders for his fatal flaws. Because he wants to prove he can do all of this, he wants to be remembered in the way the classical heroes were. By doing something knew to be remembered for. His prideful enough to until it's too late to think that Kronos would really give him any room in his new era after he destroys the gods. The gods suck, but Luke where you think they got it from? Titans see demigods much more like pests or entertainment than the gods do. But he ignores all that to get to his goal. Even demigods around him are constantly getting killed or worst for it. Which-

3. Another thing, he's at least complicit in buying demigods for the army. We don't know if the situation in TCC where the Di Angelo's nearly get kidnapped and taken to the army were include Mr Thorn getting paid after, but we do know that the ranch guy in BotL was ready to give Nico in exchange for money. So.

That means that a few, if not a lot of the Titan Army, might've been kids who never even went to either camps. Who found themselves finding out about the gods and such from the Titan Army. From Luke's army.

Can you imagine? Suddenly being told you're a demigod, and then immediately being pressured or maybe even threatened to fight against the gods. You don't even get a chance for maybe find out who your godly parent is. You lived your life thinking a normal mortal abandoned you and your mortal parent. Then it's like "nope! It's actually a immortal god with likely many other children like you! Okay here a sword and armor, let's go kill other kids who might be your half siblings! Yeah!"

Just. Wtf.

4. Luke, to me, is interesting because he's an example of falling into the generational cycle. He was angry at Hermes for a lot. But as he got older, and as he wanted to prove he was better than Hermes and other heroes, he lost his touch with his humanity.

His mom was driven insane and left on her own, he was scarred after being sent on a fetch quest.

Then he send multiple demigods on a fetch quest for the string, most of which are driven insane and left for dead.

He was fine with asking for someone else to lead when he knew he'd be used as Kronos' vessel. But he never thinks to send non demigods into the labyrinth instead to find a way through? Even though he knows their chance of survival is low.

He honestly it's such an interesting antagonist, who took his trauma and internalized his anger to the point he didn't really care who got hurt as long as he got to prove himself that he could take his dad down a notch.

His redemption was hardly a redemption. There wasn't any proper build up. No evidence of him questioning his decision outside for his own sake. His death just seems like a pathetic attempt to back track and try be remembered in a better light then just Kronos' vessel.

I think it he stayed an antagonist, it would've been much more interesting. Like him pretending to change his mind to get to Annabeth and Percy or something. Or being a lesson that just because someone claims to regret their actions and want to do better, doesn't mean you have to forgive them. Annabeth and Percy have every reason not to forgive him. And I think then acknowledging that would've so interesting.

Its kinda what I explore when I write Chris. That feeling of "i used to love and trust him. He was my brother but I lost so much of myself due to him and I'll never fully forgive that."

And, maybe it's cause I'm sucker for sibling angst, but exploring those he left behind would've been interesting. He hurt so many people and I think it does a deservice to them and his character to ignore everything he's done.

The Luke Castellan problem in PJO books and Fandom

I just finished rereading the pjo series for the dozenth time and I have so many thoughts about Luke and how the fandom woobified him.

Like no Luke did not have the right idea and executed it in the wrong way. He wasn't a misguided victim, although there is no doubt Kronos manipulated him. But him being manipulated does not absolve him of his wrongdoings. Hurt people can still hurt people, you can be abused and still become an abuser.

Most of Fandom's idea of Luke being a 'hero' because he did the right thing in the end is extremely doozy like ok he killed himself to stop Kronos but that does not absolve him the blame of killing innocent people.

While Luke's main goal was the destruction of Gods, that was not because he wanted the demigods to have better lives. He actively killed demigods.

In the Sea of Monsters, when Percy, Annabeth and Tyson snuck into Princess Andromeda; they saw 12 year olds being trained how to kill a 'dummy in camp half blood tshirts'. He was actively exploiting children and manipulating them into killing other children and saw nothing wrong with it.

He only considered deflecting from Kronos when he found out that he was going to be possessed by him.

He only worked and cared for him, he was so lost into power and revenge that HE became a monster.

"Oh but he cared for Thalia and Annabeth!!" I'll get into that later too

I think Luke's fatal flaw contrary to the opinion of fandom is The Urge to Prove Himself.

He had one conversation with Hermes which made him angry and bitter and Thalia even notes that after that conversation Luke got into more and more fights with monsters like he had something to prove which Annabeth didnt seem to see as a problem since he was her hero. They got into more skirmishes because of his recklessness, fighting more monsters since Luke wanted to pick a fight with each one he came across.

(Conversation from PJO, The Last Olympian)

His fatal flaw being to Prove Himself would explain why he took the failure of his quest so hard that the night he returned from the quest was the same night Kronos started speaking to him for the first time. It didn't help that when he returned from his failed quest, the campers treated him with pity.

He wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone because He failed his quest that he didn't want to do because it was already done by Hercules once. 🥴

His endgame has nothing to do with wanting to help ANYBODY. He wanted to take down gods because he had a grudge against them and wanted to Prove that he could do it. Everything else comes secondary if it fits his agenda.

This is one of the reasons why it bothers me so much when people say that Luke had the right idea or that Percy would have joined Kronos if Sally had died like you fundamentally misunderstood the character of Percy if you think he would have joined Kronos.

He talks about "driving humanity back into caves, all except the strongest - who would serve him" THIS IS LITERALLY FASCISM???

(According to Merriam-Webster, Fascism is a political philosophy, movement, or regime that exalts nation and often race above the individual and that stands for a centralized autocratic government headed by a dictatorial leader, severe economic and social regimentation, and forcible suppression)

Now onto the topic of Thalia, Annabeth and Luke

First of all, I absolutely hate that 'Thalia and Luke had a thing before she got turned into a tree bit' because Thalia was 12 and Luke was 14 when they met and Thalia was 15 and Luke was 20-21ish when they meet again in TTC ugh hate that.

Now TTC, where to begin, here I used to believe Luke had already bathed in river Styx as there are some narrations where Percy notes that Luke looked worse and like his scar was reopened and would certainly explain how he survived the cliff fall but on my rereading I realised that Thalia and Luke fought when Percy was holding the sky and Thalia injured Luke so nvm then.

It is however in this book that Luke began to realise Kronos's plan for him as it is implied by the General and he starts to fear for his life.

Mind you, what did Luke think would happen if Thalia did agree to join Kronos when he knew Kronos was looking for a host of body...

Luke is many things, he is cunning, manipulative, a great swordsman but what he is not is stupid. If Thalia would have agreed then Kronos would have used Thalia as a vessel 😬

And oh boy the can of worms that is Luke and Annabeth. I've seen many Luke fans/apologists deny that there is no canon evidence of Luke being romantically interested in Annabeth BUT THERE IS?? they refuse to believe and call Annabeth an unreliable narrator because otherwise their uwu white boy would be a Pedophile. Even if he wasn't a Pedo, he manipulated Annabeth so many times to make her sympathise with her and use her emotions against her.

(excerpts from various books: TLO, TLO, BoTL, MoA annabeth's pov)

^ Annabeth was 15 almost 16 or already 16 I believe when Luke asked her to run away with him in a romantic sense and he was 21-22.

also another evidence adding to the theory of his fatal flaw having proving himself.

Now, onto the topic of CHB and Luke:

Luke being hesitant to attack camp half blood in BotL has less to do with him suddenly growing a spine (as some fans suggest) and more to do with the inevitable possession.

When Kronos informs that he will himself lead the attack, Luke advises to use Hyperion instead because he knows for Kronos to attack it in person, he would finally possess Luke.

(first one is from TTC, the other two from BoTL)

One of the last things I wanna talk about is Silena Beauregard & Luke and Luke's portrayal in the new Percy Jackson series:

Luke was 17 when Kronos started speaking to him and 19 when he left the camp. Silena was 17-18 when she died which makes her 13-14 when Luke left the camp in TLT and 11-12 when Kronos first started talking to him. Adult Luke charmed an underage girl, and promised her that she was helping the demigods and then when she tried to stop, he started blackmailing her. [excerpts from TLO]

According to the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children UK, Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. The relationship a groomer builds can take different forms. This could be: a romantic relationship, as a mentor, an authority figure, a dominant and persistent figure. They might use blackmail to make a child feel guilt and shame or introduce the idea of 'secrets' to control, frighten and intimidate.

So canonically, Book!Luke is a fascist groomer pedophile.

Now on the new Disney+ Percy Jackson show, it seems that Rick Riordan is subtly rewriting the character of Luke and removing the more problematic aspect of him (pedophile and grooming). Let me explain why I think that:

Even though in TLT the book, Luke describes Annabeth as his little sister we know how well that lasted but I don't think they are keeping Annabeth's crush on him on the show from what I've seen (though I could be wrong).

Secondly, the casting of Dior Goodjohn as Clarisse puts Clarisse on the same age range as Luke, maybe a year or two younger but in the first book Clarisse was 13-14 and she was 17 in TLO, so they have aged her up. It is my assumption that they will also age Silena by casting a 17-19 yr old actress as her.

And they have made Luke far more sympathetic in the show than the books (him not calling a hellhound during capture the flag and no pit scorpions in the finale), but we wouldn't know how sympathetic or villainous they are making him until season 2 comes out. Charlie Bushnell gives an excellent performance imo

Though this again reflects the double standards it comes to PJO, they have given much grace and praise for the changes made to Luke's character and little to no complaint for ageing up Clarisse but the hate Walker and especially Leah are given is so cruel. Leah has been so much racially targeted though I think she's an excellent Annabeth, just something to think about.

Also, before I forget-

We don't give enough flack to Rick Riordan for writing two weird age dynamics without recognising as grooming and pedophilic nature. (Lukabeth and Caleo/Capercy)

The characters are never made to realise (especially Annabeth) that an older person having feelings for them as a minor is not a normal behaviour.

Especially in regards to Calypso who may take the form of a 15 year old but is actually more than 4612 (according to the riordan wiki) and her having a crush on 14 year old Percy and 15-16 yr old Leo Valdez, not to mention how rudely she treated Leo. Also her cursing Annabeth because Percy left her. Not only is it plain nasty but she's never called out. Its actually so disgusting🤕.

Anyways this turned into a long rant but I would love to read your opinions, especially on Luke's fatal flaw.

I know for some people it may seem like I'm too hard on him but this is just my opinion.

IMO I have no problem if you like a morally bad or gray person, an antihero or a villain as long as their bad deeds aren't swept under the rug and pretend they never happened or glorify their good deeds.

I actually think villian's bad things make them more interesting.

Luke is an antagonist and a villain of the PJO series and a part of being a villain is that some people are going to hate you and that's ok.

Me personally, I was never a fan of his and that's ok.

I know some people are going to bring up the fact that Percy in MoA sympathises but the PJO characters are complicated and Luke was very skilled at making others think of his reason to destroy the Gods the way they would sympathise the most and we see that multiple times.

[scaralvr]

test me. scaramouche x immortal!gn!reader contains :: religious themes, angst, 3.3 archon quest spoilers

synopsis: you have been scaramouche's faithful & loyal assistant since he was graced with the title of balladeer, but your acts of dedication towards his great being go unnoticed by him each time. however, you would never give up on your God. it is him you worship, not the tsaritsa. when he replaces you with haypasia, you refuse to live without another to serve under.

notes :: songfic based off of melanie martinez's song test me! i haven't written in awhile so it may be a little rusty :')

at first, you weren't quite sure what to think of the almighty sixth you would serve for the rest of your life as a fatui recruit. bearing a cryo vision, you found no use for the doctor's delusions, but the sixth himself requested you use one, for whatever reason you aren't aware of. the sixth of the eleven had a temper that you didn't mind, but still didn't deem his behaviour tolerable. he acts like a brat, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter by his pathetic inferiors.

it sickens you to the core. how could you serve someone as cruel and disgusting as him? questions like these flood your mind but a specific one stands out from the rest. why do you serve him? with such joy and enthusiasm, too. you're fully aware that the other fatui have been stirring up some trouble with scandalous rumors they spread around, fixating on how insane you must be to enjoy working under the balladeer's orders.

you're not deranged. a little eccentric, scaramouche would say. he doesn't mind your passion as his assistant, if anything, he prefers to have someone like this rather than a timid and quiet person who has to be told twice to finish things up. you don't even talk his ear off but instead, abide by every single demand of his and choose to stay silent when he says to. he calls you a, 'smart one,' considering the fact that his past assistants had to face the consequences you were avoiding.

you found the happiness you rarely had in serving him, enjoying the way he sadistically looks into nothing while going on and on about his sinister plans to overpower his creator through his birth of a God. he'd been planning this for quite a while and you were there through all of it. you stole for him, risked your life for him, took lives for him, and what did you get in return after years of your service? your knees feel weak and you suppose it's from kneeling to him all of the time.

they grow even weaker and the breath is knocked out of your throat at his words. "your assistance was tolerable and i'll be dismissing you. this is where your job ends, (y/n)." his words pound at your head and repeat like a broken loop, reminding you over and over that you're not needed. the God that you love and cherish is abandoning his divine angel. his fallen angel. you don't know why, but tears spring to your eyes as you step forward with a hand against your chest. you open your mouth to speak in a small voice, "but, my lord, i'm afraid you do need me. who will come along with you on your way through your journey of Godhood?"

scaramouche doesn't spare you a single glance and chooses to look out the window. "a researcher i've come across in sumeru has proven her worth to me. and don't get me twisted, you have proven your worth as well. she is... simply better in terms of everything and if you can't handle that truth, i don't care. do as i say, since you worship me so much," a wide smirk stretches his lips and you catch sight of it in the reflection of the glass window. the light in your eyes go out in sorrow as you percieve the fact that your God replaced you.

hey, God, i'll be the jester. entertain you, to the best of, my ability.

you wander sumeru with a blank expression, still registering the moments that previously occured. you cut ties with your family and loved ones for him and going back there wouldn't do you any good, as they've already deemed you as scum for joining the fatui all those years ago. your immortal state makes it worse, since you figure living without a purpose is much worse than death itself. while walking with your head down, your shoulder hits something. a person. you turn your head and your eyes meet those of a dashing gold. a fairly handsome man with long blonde hair tied in a braid appears astounded. not too far, a fairy with white hair floats next to him.

"sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going."

at that pathetic apology, you narrow your eyes. what type of person puts the blame on themself when they know very well it's the other's fault? curious, you place a hand on your hip and comment, "your attire... it's not from here. may i question you?" the fairy excitedly claps her hands, "oh, we were about to question you, actually!" you raise a brow, "really? whatever for?" the man kindly smiles and explains the situation to you in a tone like he's known you forever. scaramouche has known you forever. he's never shown such kindness like that to you.

you have no one to serve. no one to follow. all of your sacrifices were a waste, for the very man you put everything on the line for, threw you away like a worthless piece of trash. as you listen to the voice of the mysterious traveler, you feel a hope light up within you again. maybe, just maybe, it'll be different. this time, it will. when he finishes his brief explanation, you instantly shoot your shot. "the balladeer, you say?"

in the meanwhile, scaramouche is left to his own gadgets within the solace of his temporary room. temporary, because he knows he'll be on the move again. he always will be, now that he's turned his back on her majesty, the tsaritsa, and ran away with one of her treasured gnoses. he stares out the window, just like he did a few hours ago, and realizes the time. the sun is beginning to set and usually, you would enter the room with a tray of tea for both him and you to share as he discusses his plans.

it's not too long before scaramouche remembers he already removed you from the plan. your company and assistance have brought him this far, huh? he lets out a sigh that makes him realize he was holding in his breath for quite a bit now. he places his elbow atop the window sill and rests his chin in his palm. it's gotten a little boring since you left, hasn't it? it hasn't even been a day. scaramouche grits his teeth and groans in frustration. it seems like he doesn't enjoy the feeling of being alone, either.

but it's whatever! you're his faithful assistant, maybe if you put some thought into that robotic and tiny brain of yours, you'll be smart enough to come back because both you and scaramouche know you could never survive without him. yeah, you'll be back. the moon rises in the sky and scaramouche tightens his clutch on the wood of the sill. you'll definitely be back...

when i suffer, more fragility, when i answer. came here for a reason.

for the next few days, you spend it with aether and his friend, paimon. he easily opened up to you about his lost sister and the nations he previously went to in hopes of finding her but to no avail. you pity the poor male and choose to make his time in sumeru more enjoyable before he goes off to confront the balladeer. ah, it wasn't too hard to tell him that you're the balladeer's assistant. paimon was a little jumpy at first, but he, he was understanding... someone worthy of worshipping.

bit by bit, scaramouche can feel himself breaking. every little thing irritates him. the sound of the wind's harsh currents, the feeling of something rough against the supple skin of his hand, the crippling isolation of his room. with a determined yet firm frown, he remakes a brew of green tea for the several time this week. it doesn't taste right. no matter how much sugar he adds (which he never enjoys in his tea but he's trying), he can't recreate the taste of the way you made it.

little does he know, you're making the same tea, yet it's for another man. "(y/n), this is very well-made!" aether exclaims with a grin and you feel yourself flush red. "is it?... thank you," you mutter, turning away to pour some into a tea cup for paimon. aether chuckles, "you've done alot for me and my traveling companion, (y/n). and i've been wondering about something for sometime." you notice the way he fumbles with the tea cup in his hands from the corner of your eye. "go on," you say, putting aside the tea pot and facing him. aether confidently adds, "i'd like for you to join me on my journeys, if you'll allow it. considering the way the balladeer did all of that to you-"

ah. you uncomfortably shuffle your feet in your position and paimon notices the tense situation. "h-hey, it's alright, (y/n)! aether's a really nice guy, huh? we would never do something like that to you!" paimon says, trying to lighten the mood. you let out a soft sigh, "i... thank you. will you let me think about it?" aether pauses and eagerly nods, "of course. take as much time as you need." and that's how you ended up wandering in the vast forest of sumeru. no matter which way you shift your thoughts, it always ends up drifting back to the indigo haired harbinger.

you delicately hold a sumeru rose in your hands and tilt your head to inspect the flower. suddenly, an anger rises and before you realize it, you're tightly clutching the flower, completely destroying its petals and stem altogether. you loved him. he was your everything. you guess he didn't feel the same for you. because he is a heartless, wretched and brutal — the silent time to yourself was interfered with another person's barely audible gasp. you're quick to whip around and wield your sword, finding the sharp end of it against someone's neck. scaramouche is unfazed, content, even.

"still on guard as ever," he murmurs, using his finger to guide your sword away from his throat, but the pressure of your blade creates a small slit against his flawless skin and you draw blood. you slowly withdraw your weapon as he traces his fingertip along the wound. "what has my little ex-assistant been up to as of late? i don't think you have any business in sumeru, do you?" scaramouche casually asks while impotently wiping the blood on his attire.

you knit your brows together and as much as it hurts to do so, you speak without using your usual endearment, 'my lord,' for him. "you cease to exist to me, balladeer," the way it rolls off of your tongue is foreign to him, it even surprises you. scaramouche has no time for petty feelings, but he lets them get in the way. his pupils are blown with anger as he seethes, "who do you think you are? just because i've abandoned you like the hindrance you are, it doesn't mean you get to treat me with such... inferiority!"

"but you're wrong, balladeer. i can and i will." with those words serving a final blow to his non-existent heart, you turn on your heel to find the blonde traveler with the answer to his question bound to escape your lips that used to say nothing but praises to the sixth.

just stop complaining, all have our seasons, it's not just a joke or a lesson to live through.

scaramouche watches your form disappear in the distance, only then, can he fully consume the fact that you aren't coming back unless he asks. stubborn one, aren't you? always playing hard to get. he deludes himself with this, believing that you still want to serve your one and only God. right, he's owned you from the start. he owned you the moment you agreed to be his assistant. you can't just get up and leave like that, no, your work is far from done. scaramouche agrees that it was rather trivial to dismiss you like that and he sees his mistake. why can't you understand that he needs you back?

but the cherry on top is the way you stand before his godly form, alongside the traveler. you're not supposed to be here. scaramouche is struck with shock when he sees you enter the scene with aether. the moment is swept away just as quick when he laughs. he laughs like a crazed man, hands on his stomach as he catches his breath. "oh, this is rich, (y/n)! you're so worthless, you really had to find another to serve after i ditched you. you're nothing but a weak follower and i plan on making you take that role to the grave," his tone drops to that of a condescending one and various emotions surge through his veins.

the immense adrenaline pumping through his system can't compare to the pain he feels when buer seizes his gnosis. this can't be happening. he's done so much to make it this far, only for all of it to come crashing down before him. his mother, his friend, the child, you. you've left a scar on him that he'll never forget. he hates it. you must be smirking to yourself as he falls from the large mech. he misses when you were still by his side, always smiling even when he ordered you to commit something so atrocious as murder.

he acknowledges it now. scaramouche realizes that you were there from the beginning and despite his cruel doings, he was your God. he never needed to go this far, because he was yours. what is this feeling, he wonders. well, it's too late now. scaramouche can only accept defeat, falling, until... he hits something, but it certainly isn't the ground. his eyes can barely stay open from how visibly exhausted he is yet he manages to make out a figure looking down at him. you steadily hold him in your arms and aether rushes to you. "are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)?" he queries. you nod in response, "i'll look after him."

every which way in second, there's a breakthrough.

scaramouche, now being the wanderer, loiters within sumeru with no purpose whatsoever. with no place to go or stay, he explores and occasionally helps the traveler with some of their needs. but it still hurts. even if he's occupied himself with other things, he keeps on thinking about you. it was always you. yet the searing pain makes him wail at night, recalling the way you looked at him like he was... a stranger.

"(y/n)!" for the first time in forever, he genuinely smiled. he was happy that at least, he still had you through this whole wreck. scaramouche had the guts to apologize. coming to think of it, it was a stupid thing from the beginning. he was thankful that you stayed loyal to him and still were at that time, considering the fact that you took care of him when he was unconscious. when nahida informed him of it, he couldn't be more relieved.

you turn at the exclaimation of your name and instantly back away in confusion. "aether, who is this?" your words put scaramouche's movements to a stop and his smile drops. "wh-what do you mean? traveler, what do they mean?" he hurriedly asked, voice cracking in between some words. you furrow your brows together and aether muttered, "they don't remember you,"

he felt the heaviest weight bring itself onto his chest. it's hard to breathe. that's right, he erased himself from the memories of many people, including you. how could he be so blind back then? all he needed, wanted, was someone that could stay by his side forever and love him unconditionally. he knew very well you were immortal, so he wouldn't have to worry about your lifespan. he also knew how much you worshipped him, so he wouldn't have to worry about the potential chance of betrayal, either.

why did he let such a beautiful and caring little thing like you out of his sight?

© scaralvr.

[darthstitch]

That Goddamn Fishbowl

Let's talk about Dream and that "fishbowl."

From a story and plot perspective, Dream's imprisonment starts off his story arc. This is where we first get to meet the King of Dreams, an entity imprisoned by a greedy, avaricious man who just wanted power, prestige and wealth. The comics don't even give Roderick Burgess a conveniently dead son to humanize him. He's just an asshole who wants to get one up on Aleister Crowley, a real person who was pretty well known in occult circles as "the wickedest man in the world."

I've seen some fans like to rationalize this as Desire's attempt to get the stick out of Dream's arse, knock him down a few pegs, stop him from becoming a complete monster. That the fishbowl was a "timeout" that was "good" for Dream and led to his character growth. So Desire had a point, right? Maybe Desire wasn't so bad after all.

People still continued to dream, right? Maybe Dream wasn't really needed to perform his function. Desire is the stronger of the two, after all, at the end of the Sandman series, Dream breaks. Dream as Morpheus comes to realize that in order for him to change, he should just die. The universe doesn't need Morpheus - they needed a Dream who was young, still capable of hope, a clean slate - hence, the rise of Daniel Hall as Dream - a pure, literal white knight who could lead the Dreaming better than Morpheus ever could.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FUCK. NO.

The tragedy of Desire, to be honest, is this. Dream is the third eldest of the Endless for a reason. He is absolutely more powerful than Desire because dreams are where desires originate, where they are shaped and given form. It's not a coincidence that Destruction is fourth eldest after Dream, that just as Dream defines Reality, Destruction defines Creation, the logical next step when you're inspired to imagine and wonder. That's what Desire can't accept, because they're just as proud and as arrogant as Dream is, and ultimately, they're even more cruel and less self-aware.

If this was a bid for Dream's attention, then it's even more sad and pathetic. Dream loved Desire once and trusted them completely. And then Desire destroyed that love, affection and trust by messing around with Kilalla of the Glow and laughing in Dream's face about it. Was Kilalla a good match for Dream? Absolutely the hell not - she did not understand who Dream truly was, but she'd eagerly "traded up" when the star Sto-Oa courted her, dropping poor Dream like a hot potato. Could the relationship have developed better, given time and space to communicate? Maybe - they were still dating when all of this happened. We'll never know because Desire stomped all over that relationship and broke Dream's heart. It started off Dream's long string of disaster romances, where he could never trust and give into his desires in a healthy fashion, always afraid that his sibling was meddling and messing shit up.

The ironic thing is I can see that Alianora had to be Desire's attempt at a peace offering, but how would Dream accept that, knowing that this particular sibling just loved to fuck with his head? That he'd been manipulated and deceived before?

Dream is flawed but it's not impossible to talk to him. Death proves it when she points out how much of an asshole he had been to Nada. Death doesn't imprison Dream in a fishbowl to get him to calm his tits down and listen - instead, she literally helps him to make a friend in Hob Gadling. One mortal turned immortal - imagine that, you can actually drive home a point and make your little brother learn a lesson without emotional and physical abuse. Amazing!

There is nothing good about Dream's time in the fishbowl. The TV show only shows us the death of Jessamy - who absolutely did not deserve to die trying to save her lord - and Unity, who had spent her life in dreams and was actually raped and impregnated by Desire in a twisted plot to get Dream to spill family blood. The comics makes it clear that thousands of people died because of the sleepy sickness - little stories like the one of Ellie Marsden, Daniel Bustamonte and Stefan Wasserman. They didn't deserve this bullshit.

Ultimately, the Sandman is a tragic tale. Dream of the Endless attempts to change - to try and be a better ruler, a better friend, a better brother, lover, husband and parent. In the comics, many of his relationships and failings are repaired and fixed - Nada is freed from hell, Calliope is freed from Richard Madoc and closure is reached with her, Dream makes it to his meeting with Hob and calls him friend, Orpheus is finally set free from his living death. But it now has the sense of a person quietly closing out his affairs, having realized how terrible and unlovable and unworthy he is. That it's time to set down his crown and his powers and pass it on to someone worthy. It's a long suicide note, accomplished with the elegance and flair that Dream is known for, but it is suicide. Morpheus is dead. A wake is held for him. And his remains are set off in a Viking-style funeral - on a wooden boat set to sail straight into the heart of a star.

The last time we see Dream as Morpheus, he is with his brother Destruction, appearing one more time to Hob Gadling, in the same way dead loved ones appear to say a final farewell.

Where is Morpheus now? The text isn't clear, really. We are invited to imagine. Perhaps he is wandering between the stars and universes with his brother, free at last from function and duty. After all, there are many versions of Dream in the multiverse, and this version of Morpheus is just one of them. Perhaps he is now human, getting to grow old and creaky like the rest of us, living a mortal lifetime, ready to greet his sister when his time comes.

Maybe he's just some writer named Neil, grumpily answering inane asks in his Tumblr inbox.

[oc-poll-tournament]

OC Poll Tournament Round 2 Poll 3

Propaganda below the cut:

Nat Finch (he/him) @albatris: I'd like to submit Nat Finch! he/him, 25 years old, brand new baby vampire. he works the night shift at dodgy petrol and convenience store Stop 'N' Go, where he falls asleep on the clock and encourages shoplifting. he's schizotypal like me and he loves cats, cooking, and his friends! he's the protagonist of my campy gory horror trilogy, though he'd rather not be!

he's short and fat with red eyes and lots of freckles. his hair is long and black, often uneven and choppy in length, because he just cuts tangles out instead of untangling them ❤

he's a sweet boy, earnest boy, awkward boy; he doesn't have many friends at the start of the story due to his paranoia, psychosis, and social anxiety, but by the end of it has a whole bunch of good friends AND a kitty he adores named Grub who purrs like a faulty tractor

in this story vampirism is a sentient entity and all connected via a hivemind known as "the Garble".... it lives in the vampires' blood and can manipulate their thoughts as well as give them heightened strength and speed, claws and fangs, and night vision when they need it. it can be useful, but mostly it's a bully and an inconvenience

at the centre of the Garble hivemind lives the very first vampire, an undead rotting corpse and the god of vampires, and a few of their close friends and confidants. all life force collected by regular vampires flows to them at the centre and grants them immortality and power. it's a sweet deal for the folks at the centre, and a terrible deal for ordinary vampires like Nat who rarely reap any real benefits from their condition, but are threatened and manipulated into participating in this system regardless

Nat's story sees him struggling to solve the mystery of how and why he was turned and trying to balance his kind, caring nature with his new violent condition... and eventually leads him to, "hey, I think I'm going to hunt down and eat the rest of vampire god"

good for him!

some other Nat Facts:

huge drama queen (will play up being sad and pathetic to get what he wants)

vampires are hardwired to seek warmth and coziness so Nat is always down to snuggle 24/7

bouncy cheery overexcited lad who will grin for weeks if you say something nice to him

vegetarian, aside from eating people, which he insists does not count

speaking of eating people, primarily preys on rich pricks and abusive bosses

is too awkward to tell his neighbours he bought them a cute knitted blanket he thought they might like for their corgi because what if that's a weird thing to do. this has been going on for three weeks

is too awkward to tell his neighbours his name is Nat, not Matt. this has been going on for three years

has a giant scary monster mode full of eyes and teeth >:3

please consider voting for my boy!

Conor (he/him) @pen-of-roses: Submitting (to absolutely no one’s surprise, i’m sure) Conor! He/him trans former-pirate current nuisance to most known and some unknown shards of Esharial.

His entire past would be too long to get into, but the spark notes is after waking up with no memories, hoped on ship, died, came back, went a little insane and killed a bunch of people, lost the closest thing he had to family, went a little more insane, and is now trying to figure out how he got his abilities and maybe screw over the deities of Esharial along his bloody and wine filled path of debauchery (current sanity: questionable)

He can’t lie, can hear others lies and their emotions, and though you can kill him, really it’s only a waste of time and energy as he’ll come back and likely kill you for it