#someday ill make more for other characters

[dustwatcher]

rusty "fireheart" and tiger the claw have a civil conversation

needed to doodle this to get the au out of my head so i can get back to writing my novel

bonus tigerclaw belt buckle design:

[vzajemnik]

ohhhhhh sticky note.........youll never be famous and thats ok❤️

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon, virginity loss, degradation, abuse of power, Christianity, blasphemy, medieval times, corrupt priest, torture devices, abuse, punishment, misogyny, public humiliation, execution of non-named characters

♡ FEM reader

A scold's bridle, sometimes called a witch's bridle, a gossip's bridle, a brank's bridle, or simply branks, is an instrument of mirror punishment utilized by the church to publicly humiliate women who speak out of turn.

And you’ve unfortunately been deemed one of them…

You can only regret it now—wish you’d kept your mouth shut—wish you’d just held your tongue and spared yourself the poetic justice. You’d even been warned—that’s the dumb part, the part that makes the regret even more bitter. You’d been told gossipping would only land you in a world of hurt, and you, brave-faced and foolish, had ignored the advice. And now you’re facing the consequences.

Branks, an awful contraption, act as a muzzle in an iron framework, caging the head—quite like a helmet—a heavy helmet. Tight and trapping, it’s enough to make your head ache after a mere minute of wear. But that’s not the worst part. No, the worst part is the bridle-bit—a metal wedge about two inches long and one inch wide in size, of which they slide into your mouth, pressing down on top of your tongue—silencing you entirely. 

But being unable to talk is only the first and least of many discomforts—as it also makes your jaw cramp up, and makes a humiliating amount of drool run wild down your chin—making you look like some or other rabid street mutt that’s ben muzzled for its own good.

The chunky metal collar you’re made to wear doesn’t help negate that imagery, nor does the bell attached to it—drawing in the crowds to the town square where you’ve been put on display, fastened to the tron for public judgment and ridicule.

Oh, and they are full of it today.

Standing there, an army of justice—warped faces and pointed fingers. The kids throw rotten fruit, and the elders fouler words—calling you a Jezebel. 

At least you’re not alone up there but sharing the burden with a handful of other miscreants. One’s bent over in the pillory beside you—another three stand next to him up on the gallows, shaking in their piss-soaked boots, noose loosely around their necks—soon-to-be hangmen. 

Thank God the worst things are thrown their way—at least they’ll be set free of it soon. 

The poor sinners hang there still as the sun starts to set and most of the crowd’s gone home for the day, crows picking at the jelly of their dead eyes while the town’s church officer leads you away by leash.

With your hands and arms bound behind your back, you stumble barefoot and gracelessly through the streets—yanked along all the way from the town square up the hill to the church at the top for your final ruling. 

You’re made to kneel on the cobblestone where the clergyman chains your iron collar to the wall.

You’d always pitied those put in the jougs, though you’d also thought them deserving—never knowing you’d be one of them someday. Now you know first-hand what being deserving means. In a town as small as this, where word travels as quickly as you can speak them, only a few ill thoughts will turn everyone against you.

Everything is in a state of discomfort, but at least you’ve finally escaped the town people’s heckling—now secluded in the peaceful quiet of God’s house to reflect in solitude. 

Or… at least, that’s the standard procedure for such offenses.

“Alright then, little magpie,” the church officer announces while unscrewing the cruel headpiece.

It’s surprising. You’d for sure thought he’d leave it on. It was your understanding that it’s common for the scold to wear the bridle until morning and only then be freed. 

But in any case, be it by pity or mercy, you’re ever grateful nevertheless and won’t complain. 

But then, promptly after freeing your mouth from the bit, the man takes hold of your exhausted jaw and gives you a grave warning in its replacement, “Speak out of turn again, and it will go back on for another day in the tron.”

Goosefleshed and ashen from the spoken threat, you do your best to abide by it and remain quiet like the other church mice.

To which the father hums pleasedly, “Nod your head for me if you understand now, magpie.”

You do, looking up at him obediently—hoping he’d see it as enough and deem your punishment fully served, maybe even remove your bonds and collar as well.

“Good.” 

He smiles knowingly, then drops your head. Scoffing loudly, “But of course… a bitch will always prefer being free from the muzzle… Don’t necessarily make ‘em well-behaved.”

You flinch at the words, eyes wide, looking up into his gaze, feeling small under the weight as he leers down his nose at you worse than that of the crowd earlier. 

But what really makes your stomach curl are his ringed hands and how they move to his robes.

“Let’s see if this newfound virtue of yours is true and not just another one of your brazen tricks, shall we?” he suggests, leisurely undoing the knots to his drapes.

“When I’m done, and if you have managed to hold your tongue, I’ll consider you disciplined enough to return home,” he explains, dropping his attire unceremoniously by his feet before taking hold of your chin again. “If not, the bridle will go back on, and we will continue the lesson in the morning and every day onward until your mouth is as honest as if in the confessional.”

Your eyes flicker between his and peaking forward, barely withstanding whimpering when laying your eyes on it—the thing below his belly nearing your face.

“Remember now, magpie, no making a sound—neither word nor moan. I want complete silence.” 

The grip on your chin tightens, and your eyes dart back up to his. 

“Now open that gossiping trap of yours and accept God’s judgment.” 

His other hand holds it in a gentler caress from your face, giving it a few languid rubs before knocking it against your sealed lips, ordering them to open. 

It shocks you—enough to have you swallow a gasp—almost making an illicit sound that would all but seal your fate with the scold’s bridle for another day of suffering.

“Did you not hear me, girl? I said–” Impatient and roughened by his anger, he lets go of your jaw and deals a sharp blow to your cheek next. “Open your no-good sinning mouth!” 

The hand goes to your hair next, tangling within the tousled locks to give your scalp a hard tug.

Again you’re in danger of making a sound but manage to stifle it by screwing your eyes shut—quickly baring your tongue for the priest and pliantly accepting the salty offering placed upon it soon after as if receiving communion on any other Sunday mass.

“That’s it, magpie—” he says then, softer now in praise. “No more tall tales, no more nagging.” His grip eases up but remains to hold you steady as he slowly and rightfully slides his length down to the very back of your throat. Groaning, “Just be a good girl, now. Close your lips around me and suck—and you’ll soon be forgiven.”

You obey, locking your lips around him, tasting the sweat and tang, withstanding gagging as you force yourself into suckling and swallowing the foreign flavors down. 

“Good. You see?” he sighs out in a groan, pleased while fucking your mouth. 

Tangling both hands in your disheveled hair, he sets a rhythm of pulling you away and reeling you back in close—a tempo more than fair for an amateur throat like yours—only just deep and fast enough to make his weighty balls swing and graze your chin on every thrust. 

“If all a woman does is run ‘er mouth—only using it to bitch and moan—they’ll never learn what it’s truly good for,” he gruffs, sinking deeper and settling there, holding your skull in place from pulling back. “But I’ll show yah—don’t worry.”

Your head soon heats up—bleeding red and thick with it—feeling tight and trapped and in dire desperate need to draw air—or at the very least, make some sort of discomforted sound in lack of it—yet under strict order to remain deadly silent. 

“Good god, girl—I’m going all the way down that tight, hot guzzle—” he drawls, bullying deeper—and deeper. Hissing as he bottoms out, “Just the way God intended!”

His hips stutter, wearing your throat like a holster—lips stretched around his fat shaft, kissing his pubes with your nose buried in his well-fed belly.

With eyes rolling back beneath tightly shut lids, seeing spots of light in the enclosing void, you can’t help but flinch when hit with the glob of spit that falls and splatters between your brows. But at least the laughter that echoes throughout the church hall drowns out the sound of your heaving for air once he finally pulls out and frees your throat.

Maintaining a fist in your hair, he keeps you close—your temple to his hip, nose-kissing his strung shaft—struggling to catch your breath while his chuckles die down into humored hums.

“I’ve never had a throat that deep before,” he scoffs with a cruel smile—yanking your hair once again, pulling it back to make you face up. “One might call it witchcraft.” 

Another hard slap is dealt in the same spot as earlier. 

“Are you a witch maybe, magpie?” 

And a third smack. 

“Do I haf’to tie you to the stake next—have ourselves a roast?

Feeling your cheek sting white-hot, you shake your head—fighting to keep your whimpers at bay as silent tears dampen your cheeks—puffing up and rushing with blood post-strike, dulling to a numb yet lingering ache.

He doesn’t show mercy. Instead, it seems the pitiful display only makes him more rowdy—shoving you down to the cold cobblestone with an evil gleam in his eyes.

“Then let’s see you praise the Father,” he barks. “Bow and kiss his holy floor. I’ll judge whether you're a witch or not.”

You’re leash only barely gives you enough leeway to lower yourself. Hands remaining bound up tight behind your back, balled up and shaking in their knots as you bend over until your lips brush the dusty church stone.

“No, not a witch… but—” he hums, though not entirely convinced yet. “A true Christian would savor the taste of God's house.”

Your brows cinch, but you still do as suggested—producing your tongue and dragging it across the filthy tile—collecting dry silt and larger grains of sand—leaving behind a darkened wet trail on the otherwise ashen rock.

“That’s it, magpie,” the clergyman croons with a sneer. “Put that gossipping little tongue of yours to better use.”

You obey, eyes closed, continuing to lick the floor like a dog—fearing worse things would come if you didn’t. Wanting it all to be over and figuring if you just listen, it’ll be done quicker and as pain-free as you could hope.

“But do you deserve it?” he asks then, after a pause of watching you with his cock in hand, tugging it with raspy breaths getting rustier—continuing with a gritty tone, “An unwed woman can only serve the lord if she’s pure.”

His other hand returns to your hair for a third time, pulling you up by the tresses in a stinging grip.

“Are you pure, magpie?”

Goosefleshed by his darkened tone, you cower under his pointed glare. Keenly nodding your head as much as his hand allows.

Still, he doesn’t seem convinced. Huffing, “We’ll see.” 

He drops you again. Now, with a new order, “Turn and bow with your tongue back on the floor.”

You do as he says, though shakily. Gut folding and churning within—throat tight, even under the metal collar, snaring—making your head pound with alarm as you shift on your knees until you’re facing the wall with your back to him, lowering your head down until your swollen cheek neatly squish against the cool stone—tongue splayed out on the earthy rock once again—with your rear raised for the priest’s inspection.

Your nails sink into your palms in the same painful crescents as before while the clergyman lifts your greyed and tattered frock like he’s unveiling a blushing bride—and, similarly to the groom, throws the skirt atop your sloped back, bunched up with the rest of your dirtied dress—leaving your legs and thighs and ass bare to his preying eyes.

He rumbles heavily, pleased by the sight of your pretty little virgin cunt—quivering in the crude and callous open air.

Crouched behind you in perfect level with it, you can all but feel his eager leer rake through you before his finger does—slicing through your pussy-lips and quickly disappearing inside your formerly untouched hole.

You flinch, squirming at the unfamiliar feeling—breaths damp against the ground as you await the verdict.

“It’s tight,” he grumbles, assessing you with a knuckle-deep digit, before scoffing, “But surely… no true virgin is this wet.”

Your eyes widen at the accusation, and he slips his finger out again and stands up with a sigh, “I can’t make sure with a finger alone.”

Then suddenly, he grabs onto of your hanches and lifts your hips higher until your thighs straighten up—and promptly lays his still-hard and hot-blooded member to rest between the cheeks. With his knees bent, a toppling tower over you, he slides through the crevice, rubbing upon your scrunched asshole as he does.

You stir for the first time, but his hold tightens in turn.

“Keep that tongue out, magpie. And don’t you dare make a single sound, y’hear? Or else the branks go back on.”

You fall still—scared in place—eyes screwed shut as his cock falls from the peak of your ass down to your glistened entrance, prodding the small opening with the tip, trying to force it inside, but kept at bay until the narrow ring of muscle finally gave and allowed him to tear through.

“Wheew—undoubtedly a virgin!” he whistles with his head gaining purchase. Groaning at the close fit. “Taut and tight and sensitive—and just perfect for taking seed.”

Meanwhile, you suck in a gasp—tongue still pinned to the floor—only barely managing to suppress the cry that had wanted to follow. 

Choking it down, you nurse yourself through it with a string of deep breaths instead—even as he starts prying further inside—letting your cunt hold the head as he gives it shallow digs, working you open to take his full length.

“That’s it���good magpie,” he moans, pulling you back on his cock by your hips, treading you on like a sleeve. “Take it deep.”

He starts thrusting, and your breath weakens into thin stutters—tongue hanging limply from your mouth all on its own. Eyes glazed, looking toward nothing—rocked steadily as the corrupt priest pounds you like a cheap whore—sore cheek scraping against the stone floor. 

And still, you’re silent—as if having taken a vow.

The only sounds echoing throughout the church are the clergyman’s grunts and the steady fwop fwop fwop of his balls clapping your sopping cunt—almost reminiscent of the church bell’s clangoring.

“Almost there now, magpie,” he chimes from above. “Milk my cock and take my seed in your womb, and you’re forgiven.”

It almost sounds too good to be true. Even as everything aches and you’ve become certain you might just remain mute forever onward, the thought of freedom is enough to bring new hopeful tears to your pitiful eyes. So, as the warmth of his release soils your inside, it’s also joined by overwhelming relief.

A moment or more passes. You don’t take your tongue off the floor, and he remains above you, pumping his load into your deep, dumping it all at depth as if burying some dirty secret. 

At some point, he pulls out—cock now sluggish and spent. You feel its spillage matte on the inside of your thighs—also hidden as he drapes your skirt back in place.

Unbothered with his own clothes, he stands there before your bowed body—now with an accent of full-bellied satisfaction as he pronounces you free of sin in bad Latin—crossing his chest and kissing his knuckle before looking up to the ceiling at the God you’d grown sure he didn’t even believe in.

“Rejoice, magpie,” he mocks while leaning over you to untie your hands. “You’re now free to go.”

But as you lift your head, he still holds out on removing your collar. 

Holding your chin instead, he looks down at you like before, saying, “But it would do you good to remember…” His free hand taps your cheek, softer now but hard enough to make you cringe. “You run that bitch mouth again, and in my church on your knees is where you’ll end up. Understand?”

And just like before, you nod your head for him—still as silent as a church mouse eager to escape the beast’s ugly jaws.

He seems pleased with that and gives you a crooked smile, purring, “Good.” 

He then fishes the keys to your collar from his heaped robes and, at long last, unlocks it from your throat.

And by God, it feels like being set free from hell.

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (6/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: uprotected sex, incest obviously, smut, the angst, injection of a sleeping drug, violence, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She had felt the closeness of his body all night: his arms locked her in his embrace every time she rolled over on the bed, with a murmur of satisfaction finding with her a new position in which he could snuggle into her.

Although he kept his hand on her bare buttock, desperately wanting to feel her skin, she did not perceive this touch as sexual per se: there was a need for physical affection in him that only another living, warm body could give.

He smelled of alcohol, cigarettes, mint gum and intense, masculine perfume. This combination dulled her and relaxed her making her fall asleep again immediately even when she woke up, his touch, his presence, their bodies entwined together soothed her.

She was sure that in the morning he would wake up horrified by everything that had happened, begging her to go to the pharmacy to get the pill that would prevent any unplanned pregnancy, the effects of their ill-considered excess.

He, however, took her again, more tenderly and slowly, making her feel so good, too good, because, after all, it should feel bad, it should be disgusting, it should hurt.

But it didn't.

She was too wet, he slid into her too easily, he was trying too hard to rub against the spot from which shivers of pleasure ran through her, making her womanhood twitch with convulsions of sweet ecstasy.

She felt remorse for not standing up to him, for opening her thighs to him twice even though she had promised herself that it would never happen, that it was just her hideous deviation that she would keep to herself forever.

"Are you taking pills?" He asked when it was all over, and she froze, snapped out of her reverie.

"No." She muttered, knowing what he meant, what he was going to say.

She felt like vomiting at the thought.

He surprised her when his lips placed a warm, gentle kiss on her cheek.

"It's your body. But know that I'd like to be the father of your child. Someday. You decide when. If ever." He whispered in her ear and she froze completely, shocked.

I'd like to be the father of your child.

Someday.

If ever.

How could he say something like that?

She felt a twinge of regret towards herself that something in his words brought her a strange relief.

He couldn't be her boyfriend, her husband, but he could be the father of her children.

"I…I don't know what I'll do yet. I need to think about it." She mumbled, feeling her heart pounding like crazy, not knowing what she was supposed to respond to his words.

She heard him swallow hard, as if something hurt him in what she said.

"Let me know when you've made your decision about...you know. Please." He whispered, and she felt a squeeze in her throat at the thought that he wanted to know what she was going to do.

Whether or not she would buy the pill in the pharmacy.

She pressed her lips together at the thought that even if she complied with his request, it wouldn't change anything.

"So that you won't answer me?" She asked in a shaky voice, hearing him lift himself on his arm at her words.

"I'll. I swear I'll. Hey. Hey, look at me." He said, but she didn't believe him, because she knew he would hurt her again.

They were destined to do so.

It was just a pleasant dream, nothing more.

"I mean it. I swear. I…" He didn't get to finish because they both flinched and pulled away from each other, terrified when they heard a loud banging on her door.

"Open up." Daemon called out and they both stood up as if burned, dressing quickly.

"Wait a minute!" She said, handing him his shoes and jacket.

"Go to the toilet." She whispered to him, running quickly to the door herself when she heard him lock himself in the room.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

She swallowed loudly, trying to control her panic and opened it, looking at her step-father with big eyes. She opened her mouth, but he spoke up first.

"Get changed, we're leaving immediately." He said dryly, looking her over from top to bottom, his brow furrowed.

Did she overlook something?

Could he see what she had just done?

"But why so sudden? I'd like to have breakfast. Has something happened?" She muttered, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Viserys is dead." He said, and she froze, feeling her heart stuck in her throat.

With a remnant of her strong will she held herself up from looking behind her, towards the toilet.

God, he'd definitely heard that.

"– what? – but –"

"They called the ambulance, Alicent found him dead in his bed. Who was banging on your door last night?" He asked, and she swallowed hard, feeling a cold sweat run down her back.

She couldn't lie, she had to think of something.

"Aemond. We talked about the past." She whispered, looking at him pleadingly, asking him to leave it alone.

"Is he here?" He asked coldly, stepping inside, looking around the room. His step headed towards the toilet, and she stood in his way.

"Y-yes. He was drunk and fell asleep on the floor. You scared me, we didn't know what to do." She muttered, feeling burning tears of shame and horror under her eyelids, the fear that squeezed her lungs made her breathe with difficulty.

One more time, just this one more time let me lie, she thought.

Please, this one more time.

"Get out of there. Now." He directed his words towards the door, which opened a moment later.

Her uncle came out of there pale, trembling all over, though she had no idea whether from fear or because of what he had heard.

"Go to your mother. She needs you now. Your older brother is completely drunk." Her step-father said, and her uncle passed them without a word and left, not even bestowing a single glance on them.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, clenching her thighs together, feeling his semen begin to flow down her leg.

She took a deep breath, trying not to burst into sobs and to keep up appearances that nothing had happened.

When Daemon's hand touched her head and pulled her to him, making her hit his chest, when his arms closed her in a secure embrace, she burst out into a loud, miserable cry.

She was pathetic, she was dirty, she was worthless, a simple whore, a vessel for his seed.

He did what he wanted with her, and she allowed him to.

"We'll go to the pharmacy. We'll sort it out. Don't worry." He said, and she felt both gratitude and horror at his words.

We'll sort it out.

He knew.

Her distraught mother went with Alicent and her siblings, and she, Daemon and her brothers were to return home together. On her way out of the building she spotted her uncle smoking a cigarette, his gaze blank and absent, directed somewhere in the distance.

He heard their footsteps and turned, meeting her gaze – the way he lowered his head in shame, looking away made her feel tears under her eyelids.

Of course it had ended like that.

It was just a dream, nothing more.

"We'll stop at the pharmacy on the way. Your sister is feeling unwell." Communicated Daemon as they set off, driving out of the car park.

She looked at her uncle again through the window and saw that he was looking at her, his eyebrows arched in pain, his lips parted, as if he regretted letting her go without saying goodbye.

She swallowed hard, resting her forehead against the glass, unable to focus on Jace's or Luke's questions, fearing what would now happen to their grandfather's business.

That's what everyone was wondering now, she thought.

As they drove down to the shopping arcade near their house, Daemon stopped in the parking lot and looked at her over his shoulder.

"Are you going to manage on your own or should I come with you?" He asked, and she felt her heart squeeze with pain.

She was afraid.

"Can you come with me?" She muttered, feeling tear after tear begin to run down her cheeks. Jace touched her shoulder, terrified.

"Do you feel that bad? Did you poison yourself with something?" He asked and she nodded, looking straight into her step-father's eyes.

"Yes. Yes, I poisoned myself with something very badly."

The experience of walking into a pharmacy with her step-father to buy a morning-after pill was one of the strangest and most uncomfortable things she had experienced in her life.

The lady pharmacist looked at Daemon grimly, as if she assumed he was responsible for all the fuss, putting her into a state of utter embarrassment.

Even though she tried to stand up to him, Daemon paid up and told her to hide the pack in her backpack as soon as they walked out of there.

"Read the leaflet carefully. Do everything as it says."

"I know." She muttered, for some reason bursting out crying again, wiping her reddened cheeks with her hand, trying not to think about the curious stares of other people around them.

"Everything has consequences. It will be fine. Don't worry. I won't say anything to your mother." He said, and she nodded.

It was the right thing to do, the logical thing to do, the safe thing to do.

This was the right thing to do.

When they got home, she went upstairs to her room and locked herself in, saying she wanted to take a shower. Daemon and her brothers were waiting for a call from her mother, and her stepsisters were in classes, so she had apparent peace and quiet.

For now.

She sat down on her bed and pulled a small packet with one pill inside from her backpack. She unrolled the leaflet and started to read, but couldn't concentrate.

I'd like to be the father of your child.

Why did he say that?

Did he want to have a clear conscience?

She swallowed hard, burying her face in her hands, not understanding why she had doubts.

After all, she was so young, still going to university. How would she explain her pregnancy? What would she tell her mother? That it was casual unprotected sex with a stranger, that she could have taken the morning-after pill but was an idiot?

She wanted to call him, to talk to him, but immediately afterwards she thought that he would tell her anything so that he himself would not feel remorse, the end result being that she would be left with a swollen belly, grief and humiliation alone.

She pressed her lips together and took the tablet out of the packet, grabbing for the bottle of water standing on her bedside table and hesitated, wanting to put it into her mouth.

Yes.

No.

I don't want to.

But it's the right thing to do.

I don't want to.

But I can't do it alone.

I don't want to.

I could love this child.

I have always wanted to be a mother.

I'm scared.

No one will understand.

I don't want to.

She closed her eyes, stood up, went into her bathroom and threw the pill into the toilet, flushing it down, letting it flow along with her certainty that what she had done would have no consequences.

It will be what is meant to be, she thought, sitting down with no strength on the cold tiles, feeling an emptiness in her heart.

When Daemon asked her if she had done the right thing she said yes.

She wasn't sure if he believed her or not, but he stroked her head anyway before walking out and leaving her alone.

By the time their mother got home it was late in the evening: from what she had managed to overhear it appeared that Viserys was really dead, that he had died in his sleep, that he had not suffered and that she was to go to the notary in two days' time to hear his last will.

That was what everyone was worried about.

What share of the estate would go to whom.

She shuddered, feeling the vibration of her phone in her hand, and froze when she looked at the display.

Aemond.

He was calling her.

She swallowed hard, locking herself immediately in her room, panicked, feeling her heart pounding like crazy.

She answered the call and put the phone to her ear, hearing a noise on the other end, as if someone was driving a car.

"Yes?"

She heard him grunt, as if he was afraid of what he was about to say.

"How are you?"

What kind of question was that?

What was she supposed to answer that?

It was great sex, uncle, maybe we'll be parents soon?

"I don't know." She said, walking closer to the window, not wanting anyone in the corridor to hear that she was on the phone.

She heard him swallow hard, feeling involuntarily how difficult it was for him.

Why was she making excuses for him so easily?

"Did you…go to the pharmacy?" He asked finally.

"Yes."

"And?"

"No."

There was silence on the other side for a moment.

"No, what?"

"I wasn't able to do it. I don't expect anything from you." She said in a trembling voice. "I'll manage on my own. If it turns out that…"

She didn't finish, preferring not to say it out loud.

She heard the sound of the key turning on the other side and the silence indicating that he had turned off the engine.

"I want this. If it's going to happen. I want to be a part of it."

"It sounds right only in your head."

"No. I mean it."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wanting to tell him first that she didn't need his pity, but reminded herself after a moment that this was the day his father had died.

She sighed quietly, looking out the window at the courtyard of her house.

"And you? How do you feel? With everything that's happened."

"Depends on what you ask." He replied, but his tone of voice changed, becoming cool again.

"About your father."

"We knew he was seriously ill. That this was probably his last birthday."

They were quiet for a moment, however there was something warm in that silence, some kind of understanding and comfort.

"You said you didn't regret it." He said finally, and she drew in a loud breath at the memory of what they had done.

She didn't know what she was supposed to answer.

She was sad, bitter, disappointed, but did she regret it?

No.

"I still think so. But I didn't get my hopes up about anything, if that's what you're aiming for. Daemon won't tell anyone about this. He won't…"

"Why was it so right?"

She froze, feeling heat in her lower abdomen at his question.

"Since it was wrong. So fucking wrong." He continued, as if his darkest, most disturbing thoughts were pouring out of him. "Then why it was so pleasant?"

"The forbidden fruit tempts most." She whispered.

She heard him swallow loudly, drawing in air deeply, as if something in her words pained him.

"Is that what it was for you?"

"I don't know. And for you?" She asked angrily, not understanding what he wanted to hear from her after so many years of silence, after he had come to her room in the middle of the night without a word of explanation and fucked her like there was going to be no tomorrow.

"I wanted…nevermind." He hissed.

"No. Say it." She demanded, hearing him twist in his seat.

"For eight years you pretended I didn't exist, I deserve this." She said in pain, feeling a squeeze in her throat so strong that she ran out of breath.

Don't hang up, please don't hang up.

"I want to try." He said at last, so quietly and uncertainly that she barely heard him.

"I don't understand."

"I would like to study archaeology. You wrote me that if I asked you to, you would help me get into university." He mumbled like a small, embarrassed child, startling her completely.

What?

"I…well, but…there are only two months left to submit the documents. What day is today? Thursday. Are you thinking about full-time or part-time studies?" She asked, walking over to her calendar, trying to count in her head how much time they had.

God, there was a desire in him to change something.

She knew that if she discouraged him, she might soon find out that someone had shot him in the head.

"Only part-time classes are an option." He replied finally. "Is it manageable? Do they have any…requirements?"

"Passed final exams in high school, preferably in history or a language." She explained. "There are also entrance exams, but they are not difficult."

"I had the best result in the history final exam in the whole class." He muttered and she nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

"Good. That's very good, Aemond. It can be done. If you want, come to my University tomorrow, we can talk to my professor about whether a personal teaching plan would come into play if you got in."

"Is there such a thing?"

"Yes, for students who are working at the same time."

"Really?" He asked, a note of hope in his voice that made her heart clench.

"Yes. Text me when you can be there, the professor has class until 3 p.m. Okay?"

"Okay."

"See you tomorrow." She said and hung up, looking at her phone screen in disbelief.

She didn't know why she jumped up and down with happiness, why she believed that things would change, that she would really get him back.

She wanted so badly to know that there was still hope for both of them.

Throughout the next day she feared he would give up and not come.

She thought with horror that he was, after all, a complete stranger to her.

What did she know about him?

Despite her doubts, he finally wrote to her.

How did he know where he was supposed to arrive?

She figured he might have looked it up on the internet and went out to meet him, intending to pick him up from the car park. When she saw his car pull into the driveway she approached him, keeping a safe distance. He got out of the car and automatically reached into his jacket for his pack of cigarettes.

"There's no smoking allowed on University premises." She said.

He lowered his hand in a gesture of impatience, furrowing his brow.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Yes. Let's go. We'll find my professor in the teachers' common room, he's just having a break between lectures." She said, and he moved behind her, looking around at the walls of the large, brick, old building from the 19th century.

"Does he know I'm coming?" He asked uncertainly, clearly tense.

People passing him looked at his face, at his scar.

She felt uncomfortable with the thought, angry for some reason that he couldn't just walk down the corridor in peace.

Was it always like this?

In the shop, in the office, in the restaurant, at school?

Everyone looking at him.

"Yes."

When they got there she knocked on the right door. Her professor, Mr Addams, was a hearty, grey-haired, rather short man with big glasses and a short, elegantly trimmed beard. He was a man of great passion and they immediately found a common language through which he began to take her on his private excavations as a help.

In this way, she managed to collect any savings of her own.

"Professor. This is my friend I mentioned to you." She said, glancing over her shoulder, her uncle's face pale and terrified, his healthy eye wide open.

Good God.

Her professor held out his hand to him, and to her relief he showed any social reflexes and shook it.

"My pleasure. Miss Strong spoke of you in all superlatives. Please, let's go to my office." He said, moving briskly down the corridor with a bundle of keys in his hand, and they moved to follow him.

Mr Addams opened the door to the room and invited them inside into a small study with a high window, all lined with wooden panelled walls, an oak bookcases filled to the brim with books, a desk and several chairs all around it.

The professor sat behind the table, sighing heavily, indicating their seats on the opposite side.

"I'm listening." He said, and she looked at her uncle. He gave her a horrified look, convinced apparently that she would do everything for him.

"So. My friend didn't have the opportunity to study because of his job. I was wondering if there would be the possibility of personal teaching plan or part-time study in that case." She said finally. The man raised his eyebrows and scratched his chin.

"Classes can be studied in part-time, but you have to do a lot of practice hours on excavations, as you know, Miss Strong. They are obligatory." He said.

"Yes, but my friend works at night. He could take part in them during the day. Right?" She asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Her uncle grunted, tense, not knowing where to look, his fingers clenched into fists.

His face then when Jace took his boxers from him, his loud sobs, his hands clenched into fists as he stood up to his waist in water.

"Yes. Yes, that would be possible." He replied lowly, trailing his fingers along the armrest.

The professor nodded.

"Well, if that's the case, then please prepare yourself for the exams. Then we'll see what comes of it." He said and rose, nodding at them.

"Is that it?" Her uncle muttered, looking at her with big eyes, as if he expected to be questioned for hours by this man.

"Yes." She replied. "Thank you, Professor."

When they went outside and said goodbye to Mr Addams they stood in awkward silence, not knowing what to do with themselves.

"If you'd like, I'll wait and drive you home." He offered, not looking at her but somewhere to the side, pretending to read something interesting on a poster hanging on the wall.

"No need. Mum will pick me up." She replied.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and grinned under his breath.

"They pick you up and drop you off like a little girl?" He sneered, making her feel an unpleasant sting in her heart.

"Ever since someone put a rape pill into my drink, yes."

His expression changed, filled with sudden shame and discomfort. He grunted and scratched his chin, embarrassed.

"Do you know who did this? I can take care of it. For your comfort." He added, as if to make amends to her for his ill-considered words.

"Larys Strong." She said, and he looked at her shocked as if he didn't believe she had said that.

"What?"

"I already told you. He was telling me about my father."

"But it wasn't him who put it into your drink, it was one of his people, right?"

"He asked me if I wanted a drink. I said no. Then he ordered water for me. I took a few sips from it and struggled to get to the bathroom."

Her uncle stared at her wide-eyed, breathing loudly through his nose, his lips pressed together in a way from which she felt fear and a cold sweat on her back.

"Son of a bitch." He hissed, running his hand over his face, turning his head away, clearly thinking of something she didn't like.

"Don't interfere. Go home." She said impatiently. He looked at her, surprised.

"And when are you going to teach me?" He muttered.

"What?"

"For the exams. I need you to help me. How do I reconcile what I have to do at night with studying if I don't know where to start?" He asked, and she sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands.

"Okay. Okay, I'll help you. I'll pass you the study books somehow." She said finally, giving in, recognising that she had no choice, that whether she wanted to or not, she had to help him get out of this life that was destroying him every day.

She didn't want him to die.

He stood over her and stared at her, his warm breath enveloping the top of her head.

"Can I touch your hand?"

She lifted her gaze to him and met his eyes, one blank, staring dully ahead, the other red with emotion, his full lips parted involuntarily in an accelerated breath.

She held out her hand towards him, and he took his from the pocket of his trousers, grasping her little fingers in his.

There was something frighteningly natural about the way they intertwined, how perfectly they fit together, how right they looked in a tender embrace.

"Walk me out."

And off they went together, walking down the University's sidewalks, holding hands as if they were a couple.

There was something childlike and naïve about it, about how tightly their fingers clasped together, how close the embrace was, how much they needed proof that nothing was over between them.

She thought it was a pathetic attempt to reclaim their lost childhood.

She let go of his hand as they stopped at his car and watched as he got in without a word, only to drive away a moment later without even bestowing a single glance on her.

She spent the rest of the day during class unable to focus on what she was hearing, pondering how she was going to fool Daemon and her mother into thinking she was spending time with someone else while she was actually helping him study.

She concluded, when she saw her stepfather's face behind the wheel and not her mother's, that it might be worth it to just stop lying.

When she got into the passenger side of the car and Daemon set off, she began to speak at once.

"I'm helping Aemond get into University."

Daemon snorted at her words, surprised, frustrated and intrigued all at the same time. She clamped her hands on the fabric of the backpack lying on her lap, dreading his answer.

"Interesting."

Is that all?

"I want to help him prepare for his exams. He has very little time."

"No."

She swallowed hard hearing him say the word coldly and confidently.

"Why?"

Daemon switched on his indicator and turned at the crossroads even though he should have been driving straight, leaving her stunned.

"What are you doing? Where are we going?" She muttered, feeling her heart start to pound like crazy with terror.

"You'll see."

They stopped in one of the busiest streets in the city: her stepfather had told her to get off, so she did, moving a moment later right behind him towards one of the pubs.

"Not open yet, mate." Said a tall, stocky man in a black suit stopping him with his hand.

"For me it is. Mate." He scoffed.

The man wanted to say something, but someone from downstairs called out to let them in.

A woman.

They went down the stairs inside: apart from them and the bartender, who was mopping the floor, a beautiful black-haired woman was sitting at one of the tables, bent over a laptop. Seeing her stepfather she stood up and approached them with a smile that was both seductive and disturbing.

Her eyes were unnaturally green.

"Well, well. Fucking Alys Rivers. The world is small." Daemon said and shook her hand in a gesture as if they had once been partners.

"What brings you here?" She asked softly, directing the gaze of her bright eyes at her, her voice melodious and deep.

The woman examined her figure from top to bottom, as if she had just been looking at something tasty.

"I came to show my step-daughter the brutality of life." He explained, glancing at her over his shoulder with some kind of pride, as if he was just about to teach his son some very manly and important things.

Alys Rivers cocked her head at his words, glancing at her with a look that frightened her.

As if she had heard of her before.

"Oh. I see. Well, I won't disturb you. It was good to see you. Give my regards to your wife." She said and returned to her seat, clicking something on her laptop again.

Daemon moved forward and sat a table at the other end of the room. She sat next to him, tense, and after a moment a man came out of the back room who had not noticed them, walking straight towards the black-haired woman.

It was only when she saw his face that she understood why her stepfather had taken her there.

He had three long scars on the left side of his face.

The man only noticed them when the woman pointed her finger at them. He nodded at them and Daemon reciprocated the gesture, looking at her.

"Guess who left him such a beautiful reminder."

On the way back home, she was silent, because that was also the state of her mind: it was empty. No thought, no feeling, no sound or word flowed through her: images from outside the window flashed before her eyes, as if she were watching a film.

A passive observer of someone else's life.

"Robert wasn't the only one. There are seven others. Most recently Tyland. They were in arrears, and Otto is very much on his word. I worked for him, just like your one-eyed uncle." He said, and she looked at him shocked.

"What?" She muttered.

"I slammed them with a baseball bat until they looked like a red tomato. They had all their facial bones broken. They looked like completely different people afterwards." He said, and she lowered her gaze, feeling discomfort, horror, disbelief.

She rarely thought about what they did to people who didn't pay them on time because she knew that if she started doing it, she wouldn't get a single peaceful night again.

"Your uncle is now his dog. The faithful hound he has raised for himself for eight years. Even if some part of him would like to run away, he knows he cannot bite the hand that feeds him. A dog can only have one owner, and that is his grandfather, even if you wish it were otherwise."

"Don't speak about him like that. As if he wasn't human." She exclaimed in pain, looking at him in disbelief. Daemon shook his head.

"You don't understand. He's brainwashed. He's trapped in his big cage and he thinks he's free. But as soon as he tries to take a step too far, Otto will react and you'll get the message from him that he's not going to university and he'll never see you again. If it was just about fucking, I'd be able to understand it. I also did… reckless things when I was your age, but you get involved, naively mistaking his euphoria at meeting you after eight years for affection that could change anything."

Each successive word from him was like needles that, one by one, drove into her heart, a bucket of cold water that made her begin to quiver, red with shame, sadness and regret.

Some part of her knew he was right.

She closed her eyes, seeing in her mind the face of a man with three scars.

He had done this to him.

How could the hands that touched her so tenderly, so softly, do such a thing?

A dog can only have one owner, and that is his grandfather, even if you wish it were otherwise.

She knew that the comparison her step-father used was cruel and derogatory, but she understood in a way what he was warning her about.

Her uncle was lonely and manipulated by his grandfather, full of complexes and insecurities that made him cling to what was safe and familiar, which if there was too much risk would cause him to withdraw.

She realised that he would never choose her.

What happened between them was pure coincidence, the result of their collision in a place and time beyond their control.

A desperate attempt to connect again.

She spent the rest of the day in the garden, watering the flowers and weeding around them, trying to calm and soothe herself. The sight of them, those beautiful, vibrant colours of their petals gave her pleasure, comfort in a state where she felt she would never experience any other joys in her life again.

The next day her mother and Daemon went to the notary to hear her grandfather's last will. Everyone was tense and sullen from the morning, knowing what it meant.

A war of influence was looming over what Viserys had left behind, pubs, clubs, businesses, more than half of their entire family's source of income.

Jace and Luke were restless, looking out of the windows once in a while, talking loudly about the fact that whatever their mother was getting, Otto would surely want to take from them by force, and they would never agree to that.

"Stop it." She muttered, sighing heavily. Baela, who was sitting next to her, squeezed her hand in hers, sensing her uncertainty.

"They're coming back!" Jace called out as he ran out into the driveway and they followed him, looking with big eyes at Daemon's and his security guards' cars.

Her stepfather stepped out of the car with a broad smile as if he was the winner of some world championship, however, her mother was pale and her face expressed horror.

"Everything. Viserys bequeathed everything to your mother in his will." He said spreading his hands as if he had received a blessing from God himself.

Jace and Luke ran up to him and hugged him as if it was the best day of their lives, but she and her step-sisters felt exactly the same as her mother.

Terror.

Everything.

Her uncles, her aunt, his second wife got nothing.

"How can this be?" She mumbled, shaking her head.

"He left them some big estates by the sea and in the city. I don't give a shit. Tonight we're celebrating, my dears, we're having a banquet!" Daemon exclaimed as he walked into their house, but she approached her mother, who was barely on her feet.

"Mom?" She muttered.

Rhaenyra looked at her and shook her head, following her husband into the house.

She knew what she was thinking about.

Otto will never leave it like this.

"Each of you will have a bodyguard assigned to you from today. We are reinforcing the security of our home, each of us can now be a target. You do not speak to anyone from that part of the family without consulting me or your mother." Said her stepfather, holding a glass of champagne in his hand, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, giving her a protracted, uneasy look.

She lowered her gaze, feeling discomfort in her stomach, having the impression that she had forgotten how to breathe.

Taking advantage of the fact that Daemon was in euphoria and he, along the other men who worked with them had made a party, she went back to her room. She lay down in bed hearing their laughter and loud conversations downstairs, not understanding where their reason for joy came from.

Did they love killing each other so much?

She shuddered as her display lit up – she reached for her phone with her hand and unlocked the screen as soon as she saw that he had texted her.

She swallowed hard, looking around, wondering if she should do this.

Everyone was downstairs, the security guards were drunk.

Maybe she could sneak out?

She knew the code to the gate, maybe no one would notice her if she went out the back door.

Uncertainty, fear and trepidation squeezed her heart, but some part of her wanted to believe that he really cared, that in a situation where all seemed lost he was willing to reach for the one thing that gave him hope.

Today he lost everything, she thought.

Can I take more away from him?

So she packed her books from her first year into her backpack and left the room quietly in her sweatshirt and shorts, not even trying to go for her shoes, heading for the stairs. Apart from one drunk, sleeping security guard and two men talking in the kitchen, she didn't see anyone.

She lay down on the floor and began to crawl forward, feeling like a commando on an important mission, seeing from a distance that they didn't hear her. She rose as she entered the dark hallway and quietly opened the door.

She lifted her gaze up to the camera facing the exit and cursed under her breath, stopping halfway.

She had completely forgotten about it.

What now?

She looked around, trying to remember exactly what the image from the cameras she had seen once looked like when she and Daemon were searching for something on the recordings.

One, two, three, four she started counting and spotted an area she was sure the range of none of the cameras included. She ran in that direction, propped a bucket lying next to her feet and struggled to climb the wall, pulling herself up with a groan of effort, leaping over to the other side, almost breaking her legs.

She hissed, falling onto her hands – when she lifted them she saw that she had scraped her skin there and on her knees.

She sighed heavily, recognising that she would survive such injuries and that they would be nothing compared to what Daemon would do to her if he found out she had escaped.

She'll just give him the books and go back home.

She breathed out loud when she saw his car around the corner, its engine and lights on. He opened the door from his side, looking at her with big eyes, and she quickly pulled off her backpack, giving it to him.

"Take this and get out of here." She muttered, but his hand grasped her wrist.

"– come here –"

"– I have to –"

"– come –"

She stared at him, panting hard, knowing involuntarily what he wanted, feeling the squeeze between her thighs at the thought that she wanted it too.

Comfort.

"– I –"

"– it won't take long –"

He closed the door behind her as she let his arm pull her around the waist – she clumsily sat on top of him, trying to make herself comfortable on his lap in such a tight space. She lifted herself up on her knees to slide her shorts off while he looked at her with a misty gaze, unfastening the belt to his trousers.

"– good girl – such a good girl –" He breathed out, releasing his erection immediately, throbbing and dripping with desire, ready to give her what she needed.

There was no time for any other kind of caress, so she positioned herself over him, lowering herself slowly onto his thick, smooth tip, feeling how wonderfully he opened her for himself, stretching her warm, moist walls.

"– fuck – fuck, baby –" He muttered, clamping his hands over her firm buttocks, panting and moaning loudly along with her, sliding into her in one, deep thrust.

The feeling of him deep inside her was full of tension, her interior suddenly stretched to the limit on his throbbing erection, which he began to thrust slowly into her with trembling, tentative slaps full of impatience.

"– ah – G-God –" She mumbled, feeling how her slickness helped him to force his way into her body again and again, filling her so wonderfully.

Why it felt so right when it was so wrong?

Her hands embraced his neck, their foreheads touched each other as his palms on her waist forced a quick, sharp, violent pace on her from which her nipples hardened, the pleasant tickle in her lower abdomen caused by him rubbing her where she needed it made her gasp.

"– Aemond –" She mewled, trying to find a rhythm with his body, rolling her hips back and forth, filling herself again and again with his swollen, hot manhood, feeling pleasant, warm tickle in her belly.

"– do you hear it? – do you hear how well you take me? – only you – fuck –" He gasped, pounding into her with loud, wet slaps of their hips, listening how her twitching cunt clicked with his every push. His hand sank into her hair as his moist lips brushed hers, inviting her into the warm, sticky kiss full of their saliva.

Their tongues licked and teased each other, intensifying their sensation, building a swift path to their fulfilment, their bodies slammed against each other greedily with their embarrassingly loud moans of pleasure.

It seemed to her that they were too ashamed and shocked by the situation, by what they were doing, and how pleasurable it was, how liberating it was, to fuck in his car against everyone and everything, the sticky juices of their forbidden fruit running down their thighs each time his cock sank into her weeping pussy again.

She was terrified that, despite the speed and brutality of his thrusts, his hands caressed her body so tenderly, stroking her hair, her neck, her back, her buttocks, her cheeks, allowing his lips and tongue to join hers in loud, chaotic, wet kisses full of their moans.

She couldn't stop the tension that was growing in her lower abdomen, the pleasant tickling in her fingertips and the clenching deep between her thighs that proved she was about to come.

"– where? –" He mumbled into her mouth, her hands stroking his sweaty, soft cheeks, letting the messy, greedy thrusts of his hips give her the pleasure she so needed, her lips parted wide as the aggressive, stupefying fulfilment full of relief shook her body.

"– here – right here, uncle –" She gasped, feeling only pleasure, only relief, only bliss.

He groaned loudly, helpless, and came hard inside her, throwing his head back, panting heavily along with her. He hugged her face to his sweaty neck, exactly as he had then, that night in the hotel room, his half-hard, pulsing manhood filling her with the remnants of his seed.

"– I think I'm in love with you –" He whispered in a trembling voice, making the sound stuck in her throat with emotion.

She parted her lips, not knowing what to answer him, thinking with embarrassment that she somehow reciprocated his feelings.

His hand slid off her head while the other continued to stroke her bare buttock, his soft erection still throbbing deep inside her as his lips placed a warm, soft kiss on her forehead.

"– forgive me –"

She only drew in the air loudly, shocked, and clenched her hands on his black T-shirt when she felt the needle jab into her neck. Her squeal of horror, grief, and disbelief sounded unnatural, as if she were a small animal being butchered.

Her body became numb, the image around her became blurred and unclear, a heavy, dark sleep descended on her mind as she simply relaxed in his arms, feeling his hand stroke her head again, his cheek nestled against her forehead all wet.

He cried.

[svsssbrainworms]

🍃 SVSSS fic rec list

(shen yuan / bingqiu -centric edition) 2/3

[ shen twins; canon divergence/time travel ]

shen twins

• second-hand alibis

“All right. I’m in Proud Immortal Demon Way," he says, once he's had a chance to compose himself again. He sits back up, tossing his stupidly long hair back over his shoulders where it belongs; he is totally calm and ready to grill the System for more information.  "Who am I supposed to be? "Please please please don't let it be someone who Bingge violently murders. Though given the fact that he's a man in PIDW, his chances are already skewed, and not in his favor. Ugh. [Bound Role: Shen Yuan, Rogue Cultivator. Weapon: the sword Heng Li. Starting B-points: 100.] or: Shen Yuan transmigrates as a rogue cultivator, one completely unconnected to any canon characters or events. Right, System? Right?

• Wherever You Go, I Will Follow (The Scum Villain Early Intervention System)

Something goes a little sideways and Shen Yuan accidentally transmigrates into Proud Immortal Demon Way as a shitty, System-generated self-insert OC. At first, his goals are simple: survive, discover the world, and maybe even become a cultivator! It all seems to be working out alright. That is, until he discovers that there is more to his new identity than he previously thought: Shen Yuan has a twin, and it's none other than the future scum villain, Shen Qingqiu! As such, their fates have been inevitably linked together. The world is a dark place. Will they be able to make it through?

canon divergence 🦋 / time travel 🕰

🦋 • the pale morning sings of forgotten things

Mu Qingfang offers him a small bronze mirror. Shen Qingqiu takes it—evidently there’s no more putting this off. He looks into the mirror. A teenager, his hair and robes askew, his face streaked with blood, stares dully back at him. Ah, he realizes. Beneath the blood, half of it smeared across his face as though he had started to wipe it away at one point, he looks to be in his middling-to-late teens. Probably around seventeen or maybe eighteen— Pain stabs deep in his chest. That’s how old Luo Binghe is.Was. or: at the edge of the Abyss, Shen Qingqiu has a qi deviation. When he wakes, he finds he has lost far more than he can bear--or than he realizes.

🦋 • fuel the embers with the flames of your soul

Trapped in Huan Hua’s Water Prison, Shen Yuan’s illness from his previous life relapses.

🦋 • Sung From the Ashes

Things go decidedly worse in the water prison as everyone underestimates just how much Lao Gongzhu hates Shen Qingqiu. Now Shen Yuan has to figure out how to live in the aftermath of his experiences while Luo Binghe finds more and more ways to self-destruct. They'll meet in the middle someday if Gongyi Xiao has anything to say on the matter.

🦋 • Inappropriate Use May Result in Strange Side Effects 

In PIDW, there was a certain legendary cup which when used to make tea with even a single thread of another’s hair or a drop of their blood switches bodies with the person who drank it. It turns out… if you don’t use it appropriately it’ll either not work at all because it has no target, or will swap you with your soul mate. Too bad Luo Binghe had no idea about that. He was just going to drink tea and somehow he found himself in Shen Qingqiu’s body, staring at his own sword mound. Oh and what the absolute hell is the ringing in his ear?

🦋 • Separate Ways 

There are plenty of skills one can pick up in the Endless Abyss if curious or just desperate enough. The shape changing had been explained as being able to look like other people. This isn’t what happens when Luo Binghe tries it. What happens is that he’s transformed into a tiny dog with masses of curly black fur. When he catches his reflection while transformed, his first thought is, Shizun would definitely want to pet me. (Or, the one where Luo Binghe can turn into a dog, infiltrates Qing Jing, and seeks Shizun's affections through fluffy subterfuge)

🦋 • Dreaming of Gardens in the Desert Sand 

Huan Hua Palace master Luo Binghe never thought there'd be any reason to worry about the master that threw him away all those years ago. Surely, he was safe and cared for by the martial siblings he'd so thoroughly enamored. Luo Binghe was wrong. (Or, the one where the Jinlan City event doesn't happen and Luo Binghe's plan to slowly show he can be a righteous cultivator actually goes as he expected, with consequences he did not)

🕰 • Metagaming

[Self-Saving System Activated! You will be now returned to your original starting position.] Shen Qingqiu dies and gets a second chance and decides to try a different approach.

🦋 • Shen Yuan's Forced Shen Qingqiu Redemption Arc

The System's OOC function won't unlock all at once - instead, character traits have to be added individually, through quests. This leads to Shen Qingqiu having to jump through endless hoops just to complete enough side quests to unlock the ability to be a decent person - all while avoiding the effects it has on those around him. If only the cheapskate System wouldn't keep changing the cost of point values - he needs to know what the hell Yue Qingyuan told the others about him that makes them all look so sad when he does manage to be nice! He's breaking his back here, can't we just appreciate his work?!

🦋 • If You Don't Have Store-Bought Character Growth, Homemade is Fine 

When Shen Qingqiu fails his first mission, he loses the opportunity to unfreeze the OOC function. He has to go through the events of the story in-character as the original goods. He's definitely getting human sticked. Meanwhile, Luo Binghe is getting paranoid that his Shizun has started being nice to him. In a really mean way.

🦋 • In Durance Veil

Right, the villain's beautiful daughter, who had caught a glimpse of the Protagonist from afar and, naturally, fell madly in love at first sight. She'd used her knowledge of her father's lair to sneak into the dungeon where Luo Binghe was being held and eventually proved the key to his escape, betraying her father for love. "So, you want to try to find some random girl who's willing to sneak in past the guards to Luo Binghe's prison and..." "What random girl could we possibly trust? I'll do it myself!" "You know what," Shang Qinghua said. "Somehow I feel like I should have expected this." --- Shen Qingqiu self-detonated at Hua Yue City, but he didn't die. Instead, he wakes up to a world where Cang Qiong is victorious and Luo Binghe has been imprisoned beneath the mountain. What's a poor transmigrator to do? He has to find a way to free the Protagonist before he breaks out and razes the Sect to the ground! Clearly, the best way to do this is to pretend to be one of Luo Binghe's future wives. Clearly.

🦋 • Into the Abyss

In which Shen Yuan pisses the System off and it sends him straight into the Endless Abyss. Four years later, Shen Qingqiu does the same to Luo Binghe.

🦋 • Bamboo Shoot of Resentment

Falling prey to an unusual curse after the Immortal Alliance Conference was the last thing Shen Yuan expected from this dumpster fire of a porn novel. But here the transmigrator is — inflicted with a demonic womb he absolutely did not ask for, and a new burden he didn’t even think was possible. And maybe, Shen Yuan is just a bit tired of it all.

🦋 • He Was Made For Untidy Rooms and Rumpled Beds  

Shen Qingqiu kind of, sort of, does not have the same modesty standards as a xianxia novel set in some form of Ancient China? He also hates the heat, who knew right?

🕰 • Wish Received, Wish Granted!

Luo Binghe aches so raw and violently in a way he hasn’t known since the Endless Abyss, since the scalding heat of tea on his scalp, or the sight of his mother’s tired and motionless form in her bed. Images of that other reality sear themselves into the forefront of his mind, plaguing him even when he shuts and scrubs at his eyes till they hurt. He feels the ghost of Shen Qingqiu’s gentle touch on his skin like a persistent burning sensation, flames of longing licking at the nape of his neck. He wants it. He hates it. He needs it. Or Luo Binghe (aka Bingge), because he’s the protagonist, gets his wish granted the moment he wakes on the cold floor of the woodshed, beaten black and blue, and fourteen again.

🕰 • A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk Into the Bamboo House

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate. Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years… - A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

🦋 • The More You Don't Know

Luo Binghe has it all: the respect of the cultivation world, the home he always wanted, and Shizun's love. There's just one problem: if Shizun ever finds out he's a demon, it's going to ruin everything.

🦋 • grief, hope, and other forms of sickness

After the Immortal Alliance Conference, Shen Qingqiu qi deviates. The deviation itself isn’t bad, but it allows Without-A-Cure to spread far further than it did originally, disabling Shen Qingqiu by a non-insignificant amount. So when Huan Hua calls for Shen Qingqiu’s imprisonment in Jinlan City, Without-A-Cure makes it very clear that Shen Qingqiu can not be held in the Water Prison away from the medical attention he needs these days. Instead, Shen Qingqiu is allowed to return to Qing Jing, provided he takes Luo Binghe back with him.

🦋 • Celestial Afterglow

Shang Qinghua, also known as Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, stared flatly at what had once been a field boasting near sect-level Feng Shui alignment, and the drowned, bloated remains of the Sun and Moon Dew Flower cuttings that had sprouted within it. Their plan was now quite literally a wash. If only he could consult Cucumber Bro on how to save Cucumber Bro! But in the absence of Cucumber Bro, he could but rely on the one plot coupon the infamous Peerless Cucumber had ever applauded.

🦋 • I Want You To Be Happier

Shen Yuan has amnesia. Good thing his husband is there to take care of him! - Following a failed attempt to detonate his core in order to save Luo Binghe at Huayue City, Shen Qingqiu instead suffers a qi deviation and loses his memory. Luo Binghe, in turn, loses his shit and steals him away for awhile.

🦋 • fall for your reflection (drown in a dream)

“Shh, Shizun, it’s alright,” Luo Bingge says, voice lilting in a singsong manner. Shen Qingqiu can’t look away from his red, red eyes. He blinks, and they aren’t eyes at all, but feathers, perched on a mound of coiled, shifting vines that are dotted with white thorns dyed their own bright red from Shen Qingqiu’s blood. “Go to sleep, Shizun,” the black-and-red bird sings, coaxing. “Go to sleep,” Luo Bingge repeats, as he flickers back into being. or: Shen Qingqiu is attacked by a monster that drops him into a dream of a perfect world--with Luo Binghe featuring front and center.

🦋 •  Medical Diplomacy

Fresh out of the Abyss, Luo Binghe learns that he alone can cure Shen Qingqiu's chronic ailment. With this information in hand, he pursues an alternative strategy involving interspecies diplomacy and a royal alliance. After all, Cang Qiong can't expect a gentleman to dual-cultivate outside of marriage.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

Is shattering permanent in the comic (especially with the force fusions and cluster) or can it be fixed down the line like future did? Asking for your opinion on this too bc I found out about it in Future and it makes me feel weird (bc now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension, so haven’t been able to read or write stories). Maybe I’m seeing this wrong? Would love your thoughts

Hmm...

So to answer your first question: The comic for WDAU works on the same rules as canon does. I have no intention to over-write anything canon clearly stated to be true.

The ability to put back together shattered gems is definitely a part of that.

So yes, theoretically, even in WDAU, gems being shattered is not 'the end' because they can be eventually re-instated through the work of the diamonds, IF they someday decide to Change Their Minds like they did in the original series.

That being said...

I want to talk a little bit about something you said, because it tickles my brain in an interesting way:

"now it feels like any SU stuff and shattering has no consequence or tension"

And the best way to talk about stuff, I've found, is to ask questions about our underlying assumptions. So my questions for you (all) today are:

For us humans, death certainly IS a constant that remains ever-permanent, and thus it's easy to compare it to shattering and draw that parallel... but is that a fair comparison?

In fiction, death is often circumvented and there still remains reasonable tension in things like magic-heavy worlds, vampire novels, sci-fi where almost any sickness is eradicated, etc. Is this not quite similar to what shattering is for gems?

Is the perceived permanency of shattering the only reason it feels like a heavy consequence?

Are there OTHER consequences of being shattered that make it just as interesting, if not more than, to be explored as a plot device?

Must there be an ever-looming threat of something horrible and permanent happening to make a story good?

There isn't a right or wrong answer to these questions, necessarily. I'm not posing these in order to lead you to a singular, 'absolutely correct' conclusion or way of writing.

For some stories, death DOES need to be permanent in order not to make light of what the characters go through! In some forms of writing, there IS no other way around that consequence.

But I daresay SU is not one of those stories.

Let me put it this way - 100 years ago, medicine had only BEGUN to develop into the thing we know it as today. Sure, there were therapies and treatments for diseases, broken limbs, poisonings, etc. Some of them were quite good, even! But overall, the death tolls back then from basic illness were MUCH higher than they were today.

Pnumonia, Malaria, Syphillis, Smallpox, Bubonic Plague, AIDS.

These were things that people died from, with near CERTAINTY, for the LONGEST time. They were considered the road to a permanent black screen.

And today? Even though they are still, without proper intervention, JUST as deadly, we now have new tools and vaccines to combat them. Hell, if you get vaccinated fast enough you can get bit by a rabid dog and live to tell the tale, unscathed! Rabies used to be a one-stop-shop to the afterlife.

Despite this, we still view these diseases with appropriate fear. They are still dangerous - in the right conditions.

In the right conditions, the consequences for a LOT of things can be permanent. If permanency is what you're looking for.

So alright, the Diamonds can heal shattered gems now. Booooring. How easy it is to fix any shattered gem! What a simple solution to anything tragic.

But................... will they ALWAYS do so?

In fact...will the Diamonds ALWAYS be around?

Will the gems who got shattered always be picked up, piece by piece, and be brought back to them, perfectly preserved? Or will they lose pieces of themselves along the way - literally?

And what NEW consequences can we think of, when we stop thinking of the permanency of death, and start thinking of the Impermanence of those tools that keep us here longer and longer?

Just food for thought. 👀

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

In a different world, with Arcane season 1 having such a focus on fathers, Arcane season 2 has a focus on mothers. The highest stakes remain the Piltover/Zaun conflict.

Mel and Ambessa, Caitlyn and Cassandra, Vi and Jinx and Felicia, Jayce and Ximena, Ekko could have someone too, and you know what? We meet Viktor's mom too. Here's why.

Viktor is inspired by the real historical inventor Nikola Tesla. Today, Tesla's family is usually considered Serbian and they lived in what is now Croatia. His father was an Eastern Orthodox priest and his mother, Đuka Mandić, ran the household, a genius in her own right in several ways, including being a clever seamstress, having an incredible memory, and being an inventor herself because she made tools and appliances to help with household tasks. Letters and pieces of interviews show that Tesla spoke fondly of her and that he felt that his talents came from her.

Tesla lived in Prague, Paris, New York, all over, throughout his career. When he was in his 30's, he was giving lectures in Paris when he got word that his mother was dying of illness. He rushed back to Croatia to see her and was there when she died, devastating him.

Listen, arguments can be made about respectfully reflecting real historical figures' lives in fictional characters - but the good, bad, and ugly parts of Tesla's life have already been ground up and used for parts of Viktor's story and in many other pieces of fantasy media. Just imagine a Viktor who leaves home (this wasn't in the show, but according to the writers, they believe Viktor's mom helped him sneak into the Academy, which makes me think they knew about Đuka and if they had included Viktor's mom, she would have been like her) to attend the Academy, intending to help the undercity someday. Arcane plays out in its usual tragic way. Imagine a plotline where Viktor hears that his mother is dying. He goes to see her, help her, something. She dies in his arms.

Just think about Viktor's mom being the specific example of someone he couldn't save, this moment being the one where he realizes his time in Piltover was spent in vain. Imagine she dies because of the problems Piltover and the Hexgates are causing Zaun, be it the Zaun Gray or the tainted water or what have you. It would tie Viktor's story so much more strongly to the plight of Zaun itself, it would be thematically consistent with the other Arcane characters who lose parents, it could be just one of several concrete examples of Viktor trying to help someone with his own hands, and it would show that he had connections besides Jayce that were tethering him and that Singed's "loneliness is often the byproduct of a gifted mind" really was bullshit (whether Viktor realizes it or not).

[something-wild-calls]

Modded by @loupy-mongoose.

Jamie Wild was a character originally created as a trainersona more than a decade ago, who gradually evolved into a character all her own and ended up the protagonist of a yet-unpublished Soul Silver Nuzlocke called Shadowed Soul. In recent years, after these many years of building her character and the Pokemon world around her, I've been wanting to make her completely my own, world and all.

Someday I still hope to tell her Nuzlocke story and keep up with her in the Linden Roots world, but here I will be giving an alternate version of that story--Some elements will remain the same or minimally changed, while some changes will be drastic. So both stories will hold their own merit, when comes time to tell them both. :>

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Asks Notice:

I'm having the inbox open only so that people can ask about specific curiosities, and allow for prompt inspiration. This is not an interaction or Role Play blog! I won't say it's impossible, but any asks worded as such will likely not be answered as such, and may not be answered at all. That being said, I do reserve the right to answer as I see fit. XD

For now I will leave anonymous available, but I will turn it off if anyone chooses to act in ill-will or with weird intentions.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Some notes about this story:

-The setting is the same world as my other story The Matters of Life and Death. So some things, such as staffwyrms and the way magic works, is the same between stories.

-I currently plan to tell it in a slice-of-life manner, probably through mixed means of comic, artworks, answered asks, and potentially writings.

-My aim with this blog and story is to have fun above all else! It's something I feel I shouldn't have to say, but at the same time I also feel I've lost touch with that particular motive. So I'm hoping to remind myself that my art and stories are mine, and are for my entertainment first and foremost.

For those interested in this old tale being made new, welcome! I hope you enjoy the journey! ^w^

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Content warnings under the Read More (To save space.)

WARNINGS LIST FOR THIS BLOG (Subject to updates)

DEATH INJURY/BLOOD VIOLENCE SPIRITUAL/SOUL DISCUSSION. (Not really in a Christian sense, but I'll try to tag it as such if it gets too close.) CHILD ABUSE CHILD NEGLECT CHILD INJURY/ENDANGERMENT CHILD ABANDONMENT

Related Tags to mute if desired:

#TW: Death -- #TW: Injury -- #TW: implied injury -- #TW: Blood -- #TW: Violence -- #TW: Christianity (If it comes up, but I don't expect it to.) -- #TW: Child Abuse -- #TW: Child Neglect -- #TW: Child injury -- #TW: Child Endangerment -- #TW: Child Abandonment

[katkalis-the-horror-fanartist]

Whats the order of hierarchy in this au? Who's the most powerful to least powerful?

(also op that art where zoth and abducius are dancing together make me so insane/pos)

GLAD YOU LIKE THAT ONE. They have a few other things they do together too...But that's for other times 😅

These Tierlists should sum up the question. Defense Levels and Power Levels:

Then, under this cut, I'm putting the details as to why they're ordered like this! I'm also adding much needed details to be known about all these characters!

Hierarchy List (and facts)

Considering both Strength and Defense.

• Yan Luo Wang Diyu: Princess of Death. Astral Life Reaper. Brings Death. She holds complete power over her respective astral circle. All events that happen within are all orchestrated and catered by her.

• Drugia Fleuretty: Nightmare Designer. Humans have assumed that she designs clothes in the nightmare, but this is not the case. Drugia's talent is creating and designing eldritch monstrosities that reside in the Astral Circle. These creatures of fear and suffering, created by her hands (and sometimes Izanami's) send irreparable dread into many that witness them. Along with her dreadful ability, she too is rendered nearly immortal, with no known weakness. Some say that, with her knowledge and talent, she can someday destroy other Astral Circles nearby with an army of beasts from realms unknown.

• Quachil Uttaus: Misfortion Bringer. Astral Guardian. Due to their abilities, none can best them. Their misfortune is deadly, as it causes attacks to miss, injuries to become more fatal, and human organs to fail to function properly (sudden ailments such as heart attacks, strokes, etc.). Due to this, fortune absent for their opponents, Quachil's success rate for winning in a battle is set in stone as 100%. This power of Quachil's is also able to protect residents of their Astral Circle, bringing misfortune to anyone that attempts to harm any of them. As long as Quachil is aware of said confrontation. They often are, but rare cases can occur where they are fixated solely on one task.

• Chaugnar Faugn: Occultist. He controls cults circled around Yao Luo. He commands groups of her worshippers, which is already a high priviledge, yet alongside that, his defense and power are close to infinite. His weakness is undiscovered. It is said that only the Princess of Death herself can cease his life. Of course, she never will. So he reigns alongside her and is able to command her followers to defend her, himself, and her partner Orcus.

• Shub Niggurath: Famine Bringer. She is able to cause crops to be unable to grow and livestock to become malnourished and ill. Her famines can devastate entire continents of humans, and sometimes even other residents of the Astral Plane as a whole. In these cases, humans brought to the Astral Plane for soul and bodily consumption will also wither away as livestock would. Even beyond planet Earth, she is feared. Though it is believed she does have a weakness: To be decapitated by a golden axe blessed by either a god of war or a goddess of fertility and bounty. It is said however that, even if she is somehow slayed, remnants of her soul may last and continue to spawn random bouts of drought and famine.

• Zoth Ommog: Ritual Leader. Similar to the past Astral entities, Zoth is akin to a hellish god. The rituals he conducts provide many effects, defects, abilities, and assistance. Centuries ago, this sinful, lustful monstrosity was imprisoned by gods. However, Yao Luo successfully planned and initiated tactics to free him. He has since honored her and resided in her Astral Circle, providing her and her fellow residents much from his rituals. Considered the most vile entity amongst the Princess' domain, most fear him, aside from a select few admirers and slaves, whom of which Zoth marks with special sigils and engages in heretical acts with. It is said that he does have a weakness: being pierced in the heart with any golden object that has been blessed by a god of purity. This however may still prove impossible, as his heart rests within his throat, which is shielded by the very collar the gods had imprisoned him with. That, and runes he created beneath his flesh grant him many defenses.

• Teutates Taranis: Annihilator. Considered the most proficient and deadly combatant in the Princess' Astral Circle, it is said that Teutates can best any that cross his path. He, like a few other Astral Residents, has his own select group of humans and beasts that obey his commands. His subjects are marked with specific tattoos and all go through a blood pact with him. His skill in battle and talent for both swift kills and agonizing annihilations make him a formidable challenge in battle, even against other higher demonic entities. Some theorize that he has a weakness: stabbing out his eyes. Others, however, say that he is able to sense foes without sight and that this is no weakness of his. But recently, some have thought about another possible weakness of the annihilator: shooting him between the eyes with an arrow coated in a sedative. Something powerful enough to alter his brain function.

• Anazareth Anazarel: Curse Creator. After having practiced under the guidance of Yan Luo herself, Anazareth has mastered many terrible and effective curses fit for many situations. She also has a sigil bestowed upon her by Zoth in Yan Luo's will that not only increases the potency of her curses compared to others, but gave her the ability to effect even those that use magic to protect them from said curses. This sigil in turn granted her other moderate demonic powers and altered her appearance, giving her horns. She is in high enough authority to have her own followers like Zoth, Abducius, and Teutates. Her owned subjects have special tattoos on their collarbones, cheeks, or backs, and all have at least one horn as a result of them. Some say that cutting off her horns is her weakness. Other say that you must specifically burn the base of the horns after cutting them off, otherwise they may grow back. This proves difficult in idea, as she must be completely still for this to be done properly.

• Ishtar Ereskigal: Pestbringer. Similar to Shub in the aspect of affecting entire populations with food-stunting issues. Her pests range from cockroaches to rats to locusts and even mosquitos plagued with disease. Ticks, fleas, and bedbugs aren't even out of the equation. While she too can hinder farms, she can also infect households and wild environments. Her ability to devastate wildlife as well has granted her a vile, disgusting reputation. She may also use pests to assist in torture methods. It is said that her weakness is submerging her in holy water, which is already difficult to aquire in the Astral Circle. And even from Earth, it must be a decent amount.

• Abducius Morail: Mutilator. Though not as high up on the hierarchy ladder, the Mad Mutilator is heavily feared by many in the Princess' Astral Circle. His taste for agony and screams of pain lead him to be as torturous as Exael Lanithro with nearly as much battle prowess as Teutates Taranis. He takes intense euphoria and ecstasy in performing near-deadly operations and Frankenstein-esque crafts on living victims with no sedation. Even other higher-ups show slight repulsion towards him. He has some disfigured followers of his own, each one mutilated and/or branded in various ways. From skinned body parts to burned or exposed bones to body parts and organs of different animals. He has no specific weakness as he is closer to a human, but his own modifications to his body grand him decent defense, both physically and magically.

• Barbatos Barrabam: Human Hunter. Assigned an important job that benefits the Princess, Barbatos is well respected among his peers and superiors. He both speaks and acts straight to the point, always set on completing his goals with accuracy and no wasted time. Others may play with their prey, but Barbatos plays no games. They say he can see through walls. It is theorized that only being fully crushed beneath unbearable weight is enough to hault him and end his streak of humans hunted.

• Ah Puch Xilbalbá: Bone Breaker. Usually tortures mortals and disobedient slaves alongside Exael. He also often assists Abducius in breaking bones in victims in order to encourage their bones to heal improperly and become disfigured for Abducius' own enjoyment. In battle, every crunch of bones fuels him to become more violent, and once his opponent can no longer move, he may simply rip their bones out completely.

• Exael Lanithro: Torturer. Owning more twisted instruments and machines than any Astral Resident, Exael rarely runs out of torture methods for his unlucky victims. While some prefer to inflict harsh violence against their select subjects, Exael prefers more psychological and lengthy approaches, from water torture to slowly pumping victims with poison to using machines to stretch and rip victims apart. It is unknown if he takes satisfaction from his job though, as his expression rarely changes from his usual, somber look.

• Nyogtha Z'mog: Gravedigger. Though she is never often seen fighting, most if not all around her respect her. Sometimes, even humans captured and brought to the Astral Circle have minimum qualms with her. Harm against her, whether successfully applied or not, calls for instant torture. Though she has never truly proven herself in a fight, some say that she has swiftly ended the lives of those near-death with the shovel she often uses. She has also been seen using electricity to charge herself, leading to her never needing any rest, which even some superiors of hers indulge in. Her dedication to her job grant's her protection directly ordered by Yan Luo, and none dare to test to see if she is truly able to slaughter efficiently.

• Orcus Dis Pater: Skin Collector. Although nowhere near as high on the social ladder as Yan Luo, he is kept in close company to her. None have ever figured out why she keeps him so close. Orcus himself rarely speaks to others outside of the Princess' chambers, but when he does speak, those around him listen intently. Eagerly. It is said that skins he wears come from slain victims in the Astral Arena, and others have caught wind of Yan Luo working on a cloak for him. One made of 1000 skins.

• Lilith Lilitu Lilit: Witch. Brought into this Astral Circle by her best friend Anazareth. Though she has no specific assignments, she has never crossed nor annoyed the Princess, and therefore is allowed to spectate. However, recently in the past 100 years or so, she has taught herself more spells, and plans to ask for tutoring from Yan Luo, as Anazareth got.

• Izanami Yomi: Face Deformer. Her title may seem weak compared to others, but her worth comes from the fear she garners from those subjected to her ability. Her deformation powers can greatly affect the outcome of different gastly creations made by others. Whether it be carving faces for Drugia's monstrosities, sculpting faces of horror in Abducius' creations, or simply weakening an opponent by disfiguring their facial features, she has proven to not be as useless as her title makes her seem.

• Yog Sothoth: Vampire. Previously nameless before he was named by the Princess herself. He was accepted into her Astral Circle as long as he performed his designated job loyaly. His job requires him to tread between the boundaries of humans and the Astral Realm and use his looks and charisma to lure humans into being captured by his co-worker of sorts, Barbatos. It is well known that his looks are not completely of his own free will, but designed by Drugia and Anazareth as means of making him more appealing to humankind.

• Xezbet Xerbeth: Soul Eater. Xezbet shows little to no participation in Yan Luo's events. Little to nothing is known about his existence and why he has not been sent elsewhere. Some say it is because of his ability to unnerve mortals into submitting, while other say that he is only kept here to someday be harvested of all souls he has devoured.

• Dagda Crom Cruach: Soul Scarecrow. Little is known about Dagda as a whole. From his existence to his appearances in the Princess' domain. Like Xezbet, one can only hypothesize why this strange entity lurks about.

[zan0tix]

Pleaseeee tell me more about that homescryption au

A little something between you and me and everyone else who happens to look at this post. Im working on a lineup for the four scrybes :D

Roxys design is subject to change and you guys have already seen D1rk. Jane and Jake are in progress!!! (Also D1rk and Harley are the names for dirk and jake but weve been struggling to come up with appropriately fantasical/magical names for Jane and Roxy that align with magnificus and grimora😞 Harley feels old-manish enough that it fits in well… im sure well get there but if anybody has ideas feel free to comment ✌️)

But yes i can tell you more!!! ILL PUT IT ALL UNDER THE CUT THIS POST IS GOING TO BE LONG o7

Working with cyrus repliiku to flesh it out x3 he was the one who got me into the game and im CRAZY NOW!!!!

The four alpha scrybes methods of inscribing cards are that Harley uses his magic blunderbuss and the things he shoots become cards, Roxys cards are the fantasical characters she creates in her stories, Jane will be a detective of death, uncovering how cards die and writing up a casefile in her detective agency about them (might give her a magic magnifying glass. Well see), and D1rk were trying to figure out something with Sburbs captcha card + ghost captcha system like how Po3’s cards are printed from real robots

The students/the scrybes underlings are going to be other homestuck characters or splinters!

D1rks will be the robots (aradiabot, arquius (wanted him to me more unique than just brobot + hal so he gets to be a robot) and jadebot.

Harleys will be jake-ish splinters rather than new characters. Thered be the Adventurer (prospector), the Hunter (trapper/trader), the Sailor (angler), the Ectobiologist (mycologists), and the Actor (woodcarver) and his campaigns would be more Action packed like jakes action movies type stuff hehe

Janes will be the dead trolls, nepeta, equius and feferi. Not much to say besides them being dead lol 😭

And roxys were still figuring out but nerm. Viceroy/Casey, Rose (maybe goobert but they are actually nice and kind to her) and Eridan….(lonely wizard he was banished to the shadow realm for being annoying 😁👍)

Luke Carter is going to be Calliope and Satan in the greater scheme of the daniel mullins-verse will be Caliborn/Lord English because i think itd be very funny for him to just. Be making video games and thats his evil plot. LOL and Sado would be Gamzee. (Will not expand to pony island or the hex this is just clearing up the ending of inscryption)

Kaycee would probably be Aranea but like just some normal girl. Not all that sure abt the OLD_DATA tho ??? Maybe just all the wrong doings Lord English has committed and influenced culminated into the files or the code that brought him into the universe I DUNNO.

Retconning the drawing i did when i first scribbled this AU, i believe when harley turns the other scrybes into preexisting cards d1rk would become a seagull (kingfisher replacement) roxy would become a jaguar (wolf replacement) and jane would become a jackalope (pronghorn replacement) 😁

And the way harley would be defeated would be using his blunderbuss on him with a special bullet instead of film. Po3’s decapitation fulfilled the Dirk prophecy too LOL

I think that of the gameplay/card gimmicks themselves would work basically the same but i might try and come up with more creative homestucky twists on them

Im planning on finishing the designs and making sprites and more mockup screenshots :3

I might write up or draw a comprehensive ref sheet for this au someday but for now heres what weve jotted down 👍

[coldxperience]

☀︎ Lan Sizhui names etymology

Here's a complete post on the etymology of our lovely Sizuhi's various names. I've always appreciated how authors would give out names that fit their characters so well, which is why I chose to share this.

Both Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian's are already up on my profile. ▷ MDZS Home Page

Birth Name - Lan/Wen Yuan

Lan 藍 (lán) – blue In Chinese, Lan 藍 is literally blue.

Wen 温 (wēn) – lukewarm

Yuan 愿 / 苑 (yuàn) 愿 – honest, hope/desire 苑 – park & emperor's garden

Sizhui’s other name bestowed by LWJ, Yuan (愿), means ‘hope’. Just like how he saw Weiying again shortly after meeting A-Yuan, maybe he’s also hoping for the moment that familiar voice will beckon his name once more. His name as a Wen is also Yuan, though written as 苑, meaning ‘emperor’s garden’. In the past, the imperial family built gardens for pleasure, to escape from the rigid rules and etiquette of the palace and worldly matters. It was also built to impress.

I think how this is juxtaposed against the Burial Mounds, an unliveable place that WWX and the Wens worked hard to make into not only a habitable but enjoyable living space, away from the perceptions and condemnation of the outside world. A little piece of heaven from the barbaric world, just like the imperial gardens. It was here that WWX found a sliver of hope – the author used 神清气爽 (‘refreshed, invigorated’) to describe his feelings after the Wens held a dinner to thank him. It was here that he began to question if walking on a ‘single-plank bridge to darkness’ will be dark after all. It was also here that he could focus on demonic cultivation and his inventions in peace, eventually becoming the revered Yiling Patriarch.

Courtesy Name - Lan Sizhui

Shizhui 思追 (sīzhuī) – to recollect and long for

Sizhui, his courtesy name or zi, derives from a rhyming couplet from the author Mo Xiang Tong Xiu herself. “思君不可追，念君何时归” (sī jūn bù kě zhuī, niàn jūn hé shí guī) translates to ‘yearning for but cannot chase after you, longing for someday when you will return’.

Let’s not forget that Sizhui is a love letter between LWJ and WWX. Aside from the pair of rabbits, perfume sachet, copies of Lan Sect scriptures and the Chinese peonies, Sizhui is the last ‘thing’ under LWJ’s protection who symbolises their shared memories, having been brought up for more than three years by WWX. Though Sizhui himself did not remember his life as a Wen after his illness, it’s inevitable that whenever LWJ looked at him, he would have been reminded of his mental turmoil during WWX’s seclusion at the Burial Mounds – his inability to stand by his side and yearning for bringing him back to the Cloud Recesses. Raising Sizhui as a lineal descendant was intentional – he could not save WWX but at least he could save his ‘son’.

Author Note: I am not an expert in Chinese at all, English isn't my native language either - I hope everything is correct.

▷ MDZS Home Page

[ completed ; 09/08/2024]

★ ⁺. ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა ˖⁺‧₊˚

[itsivan]

Silent Hill 2, Mary's disease, the town and the "three years" lie (careful heavy spoilers obviously)

In the SH2 remake, when you first enter the Lakeview Hotel Gardens James says to himself "this place hasn't changed at all in three years" which such a good bit of foreshadowing, considering the opening in which a. James claims Mary died three years ago and b. Mary's letter explicitly reads "You promised me you'd take me there again someday. But you never did." implying they have not been there in a long while.

This really imo ties into my (and probably many other people's) theory that Mary contracted her illness in Silent Hill three years ago.

This is further supported by her illness only ever being referred to as "that disease", mirroring the mysterious disease of the town that is also only ever referred to as "the disease/the illness" without a proper name or diagnosis. Then her character model being covered in skin decay, again mirroring the town. In the prison we find notes of an inmate claiming to "being treated like a leper" by the guards after a renewed outbreak (leprosy being notorious for skin decay, so similar to the SH disease). And lastly, Mary notes in the tape having loved to swim in the lake all day after which she very shortly begins to cough, the lake being where the bodies were buried & bodies of water famously spread many diseases etc. (Also the lake and water in general being major symbolic themes throughout the entirety of the game)

Now we know in the end that Mary died only a few days before the game begins (her body is still in his backseat), so I interpret all of this to mean that to James, she did "die" three years ago. For three years he had emotionally already checked out, seen her as a burden. Only a few days he had to care for her at home, knowing she didn't have much, and even that he couldn't give to her. This just makes it all so much more tragic and devastating.

Also while I'm on it, I know the "leave" ending with Laura is generally considered the good/canon ending, but to me the lake ending feels more right thematically, which again speaks volumes for the game bc I usually hate that type of ending (just feels lazy) but here it works perfectly.

Wait omg another thing! In the opening we see the tanline on his finger, meaning he stopped wearing his wedding ring either right after killing her or while she was still alive and I don't know which is worse

[dailyrmdoodle]

Okay it's about time I made a masterpost!!

Hello!! My name's Leo, I use He/Him pronouns, I like, run this account or something? And there's a good chance you're looking for info on it! Soooo-

First things first, some things you might know me by!

This account, obviously

My main, @leounderseas, where I post more cookie-unrelated stuff!

My instagram

My tiktok (currently inactive)

You don't know me from twitter because I don't use that!!! Twitter is banned in my country, so I do not have a twitter account.

Also some artworks you might recognize!!

Now that introductions are out of the way, here's some more info on me and this account specifically! This a daily doodle account for Royal Margarine Cookie from Cookie Run Kingdom! I am very normal about him. That's pretty much all I post about here, though other cookie related things do pop in every once in awhile!

This account was meant to be daily, but I am still finishing up highschool, and it's been very stressfull, so sadly I don't have the time to actually make that work. The plan is still to post a doodle daily! But maybe I'll only be able to do that once I finish up with school, sadly.

I have two main hashtags in here!

#my art and my stuffff, for any art or similar things I end up making and posting! If you're expecting a daily doodle and haven't seen it, or just wanna browse, you might wanna check the hashtag :)

#questions and rambling and stuff, for askbox questions that I answered or just general rambling about characters or any other topic! If you're interested about my insight on things (or my analysis of a certain cookie, whom this account happens to be about....) it'll be there!

My askbox is open, and anonymous is an option! Feel comfortable to ask me questions, don't be shy! Just, yknow, be civilized? And not mean? Or any kind of -phobic or -ist or anything like that

Projects I currently have in the works are:

My marge shimeji! It is still in production sadly because I haven't had the time to work on it.... but I plan on finishing it and making it downloadable for anybody who wants it once it's done!!

Another related thing is my character playlists! I make those for fun in my freetime :) I have a lot of them, and some of them are longer than others because I am obviously biased (staareeess....) but I still enjoy all of them! Here are the links if anybody is interested!

Royal Margarine Cookie playlist (longest by VEEERY FAR. You need commitment to finish this one. Also lowkey suggestive. Tread carefully.)

Black Pearl Cookie playlist (Second favorite! Nowhere near as long but still very dear to me :])

Butter Roll Cookie playlist

Matcha Cookie playlist (Third favorite,,,,,, ouuugh blorbo....)

Pure Vanilla Cookie playlist (Has purelily undertones fyi, i like purelily)

White Lily Cookie playlist (Fourth favorite, SHE'S JUST LIKE ME FOR REAAAALLL,,,,,)

Golden Cheese Cookie playlist (Fifth favorite! Not really that long, but pleeeaasee recommend me songs for it)

Shadow Milk Cookie playlist

Black Lemonade Cookie playlist (very unfinished...)

Shining Glitter Cookie playlist (very unfinished....)

Snapdragon Cookie playlist (very unfinished, IM SO SORRY BABYYYY,,,,)

I also have non cookie playlists! Though they are few

Furina de Fontaine (Genshin Impact) playlist (Second longest playlist I have. I LOVE HER SO MUUUUCHHH YOU GUYS DONT GET ITTT)

Kieran (Pokemon Scarlet & Violet DLC) playlist (This kid is ill and I care him)

To finalize, I don't take comissions right now, but I do take requests in my askbox! Depending on the request ofc. I plan on taking comissions someday, but that'll probably have to wait until I finish highschool next year! And with all that said.... You're caught up!!! *confetti falls Have any questions? Lmk!! I'll answer them! Have a good day :]

[suzuran777]

Review: Ooe trial version (Adelta)

A few days ago Adelta released the long-awaited trial version of their new game Ooe, so I really wanted to write a (short) review about it! The full game was originally scheduled to be released this summer, but it looks like we will have to be patient for a bit longer as the new release date will be somewhere in fall later this year. I have been following updates about this game for about three years now, so I don’t mind waiting a little longer! You can read a bit more information about the plot and the characters in one of my earlier blog posts here. To summarize, the game takes place in the 30th year of Showa (1955) and focuses on protagonist Oosaki, a detective who travels to the remote island of Ooejima after receiving a request from a client to visit the island and attend a ceremony on his behalf.

The trial version covers the first part of the game, up until the first “incident”. Oosaki doesn't really have any friends or family, and lives in a boarding house in Suga, a short walk from Hiratsuka station near Kamakura. His boss Shinkiba, who runs the detective agency, informs him about a request he received from a client. The client, a man who calls himself Shizuma Daiba, asks Oosaki to attend the memorial service of actress Ooe An on his behalf. Originally, it was Daiba’s father who received the invitation, however he fell ill shortly afterwards. At first Daiba wanted to go in his place, but his father warned him to send someone else instead. Oosaki assumes that the person who invited everyone to the island is a relative of the actress, who passed away three years ago. Even though Oosaki never met her, he remembers reading news about her death.

After a few more meetings, Oosaki makes preparations to travel to Ooejima. The island belongs to the Izu Island group and is located near Hachijojima. Originally, it was used as a military base during the Second World War, however after this it became uninhabited. Even though he has never been there, Oosaki knows about the island because his grandma who raised him was originally from this island. He always felt like he had to visit the island someday, as if it was calling for him. On his way to the island he meets Ariake, who’s also travelling to Ooejima for the memorial service. He's surprised to find out Ariake’s grandmother is also from the island, and similar to Oosaki, it’s his first time actually going there too.

After arriving, they head to the Mikazuki inn, where they meet a trembling man trying to defend himself with a knife, who later introduces himself as Funeno. He also meets Shimbashi, a writer who uses overly polite speech who’s staying at the same inn. The next day, he meets the other group of people who are staying at a different inn (Takeshiba, Shijoumae, Hinode, Aomi and Shiodome). When the ceremony is about to start, they realize that the person who invited them to the island isn’t there. A monk called Toyosu was sent on their behalf. After the ceremony they have dinner together, but when Funeno is asked to join them, he seems to be expriencing some kind of flashback, and starts shouting at them. Embarrassed by his own reaction, he immediately leaves the room.

Shortly afterwards Shimbashi, who always skips his meals, walks in and asks why Oosaki and Ariake are trying to prank him by playing creepy music at the inn. Confused, they follow him. Soon enough they find a record player in a small hidden room near the stairs. At first they think Funeno did this, but then they find his dead body in Oosaki’s room. They meet up with the others and Shijoumae suspects it was a suicide because sleeping pills were found near his body, but Oosaki isn’t convinced. Aomi points out that the telephone has also been destroyed with an axe. Shiodome insists that they at least finish the ritual for Ooe An, which requires burning a straw figure to send off the spirit of the deceased. Even though nobody really feels like doing this anymore after Funeno’s death, they try to collect the materials required.

While the others make their preparations, Oosaki thinks about who the culprit could be. He suspects Shimbashi, Toyosu, Shiodome and Ariake, as they came with him to Mikazuki inn. As they finish the ritual by burning the straw figure, they realize that someone swapped it with Funeno’s body. Afterwards, Shiodome reveals that all this time he actually had Funeno’s invitation letter. One thing Oosaki didn’t know is that all the letters were swapped, and that the invitation letters also included a list of crimes the other person had committed. In Funeno’s case, he killed his younger sister. They decide to return each other’s letters, however because Oosaki doesn’t have one, nobody seems to have Shimbashi's letter. Shiodome tries changing the topic, but Oosaki is determined to find out who killed Funeno, and that’s when the trial version ends.

Thoughts & Impressions After waiting for this game for a long time I was so happy to finally see all the characters interact with each other! The trial version was pretty long too, it took me over 6 hours to finish and I think I read pretty fast, so it might be even longer. I have so many theories about what could possibly happen next but it’s hard to put it all into words! The music, art and story are all amazing so far. It's interesting to see how some of the characters already know each other too, although most of them only met at Ooe An's funeral years ago.

One thing I was thinking about is that Funeno was extremely nervous whenever he was talking to Oosaki (who introduced himself as Daiba) and also knew that they had each other’s invitations, so I think he got the invitation of Daiba’s father. Oosaki mentions he never saw any invitation, so I think it was never shown to him, probably on purpose... I am curious about Ooe An too, the game mentions that she committed suicide by burning herself. However, when Oosaki asks Shimbashi what kind of person she was, he doesn’t really answer and laughs when Oosaki assumes she was an innocent girl. Takeshiba mentions that some theorize that she never actually died, but Shijoumae (a surgeon) and Ariake (who works at a funeral home) both saw her body, so they find that hard to believe.

So far I think my favorite character is Ariake because he's very cute (some of the other characters also agree lol), but honestly everyone seemed interesting. I wonder if Hinode will ever talk because his voice actor is still hidden. I'm also interested in Daiba and why him and Oosaki look identical, they do both have family members from Ooejima, so could they actually be related? In a lot of the promotional material Daiba was introduced as a side character, however it looks like the game does have an additional route (the website says 9 routes + α) so maybe we will get a Daiba route too. For now I will try to be patient until the full game's released in fall!

[raspberrybluejeans]

for no real reason i was just pondering about which is my favorite PC each mcelroy has played in The Adventure Zone.

I can say immediately with pretty much no contest that Taako is my favorite Justin PC. I think you all know how mentally ill I was about Taako. I love Duck and the Firbolg and all the others but i am insane about Taako.

Also pretty much immediately I can say my favorite of Clint’s is Argo. I think Clint mentioned at some point that he put more work into Argo than any other character (this may have been before Ethersea so idk if it’s still true) but I think it shows so much. He was so interesting and I love him and I loved learning about his background and motivations and stuff.

I was a little more torn about Travis because I do love Magnus a lot, but in the end I decided I like Devo the most. I just wish we had gotten to delve into more details about his background and upbringing and stuff and I hope someday when they make the Ethersea sequel we can learn more about him because he is a very interesting character.

I was the most torn about Griffin because I love almost all of his PCs so much. The two other contenders I was really torn about was Errol and Montrose. I was so devastated he didn’t play Errol again in Dust II because I fucking love Errol. Montrose is also such a good character he’s such a freak. But in the end I decided on Fitzroy. My sweet cheese my rotten soldier. I love that stupid bitch

Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[aseriesofsmallthings]

Hello!

Welcome to my writeblr! I'm very new to this whole thing, and while I have *had* tumblr for a while now, I've never actually used it, so please bear with me :)

About my writing

I started out writing fanfic and short stories over a decade ago (ouch, now I feel old) and am hoping someday to become a published novelist. I mostly write horror, fantasy, and dystopian fiction, (with romance often playing quite a big role), though I am incapable of resisting dabbling in other genres too from time to time. A lot of my writing tends to deal with themes of loss, mental illness, suffering, and the inevitability of the human condition. In a bid to see myself and others like me represented more widely in the media, my longer fiction works often include neurodiverse, disabled and lgbt+ characters.

About me!

First things first, my name is Shannon, though online I mostly go by Shay. Feel to free use either :)

Now, a few fun little facts to break up those hefty chunks of writing (make the most of it, this might be the last time in a while).

I'm from, and currently live in, the UK. And I use she/they pronouns.

I'm a (twenty-something year old) child living an adult's life. And I am not having fun. Please, send help.

My reading tastes tend to be quite similar to my writing, in that I'll read just about anything I deem interesting in most genres but my preferences lie in dystopia and fantasy.

I have AuDHD and a whole host of other funky little brain things that keep writing (and life) all that much more fun! On a serious note, this may mean I'll disappear from time to time and posts may not always be consistent. (It also means interactions may be somewhat difficult for me, so again, please bear with me :)

I'm an amateur field hockey player with no other interest in sport besides playing it.

I have studied creative writing at uni briefly but I'm currently in the midst of switching to a social sciences and anthropology degree - expect a little academia related content maybe.

I'm a fur-parent - pictures may follow (they definitely will) of my little demon child.

I love to travel (especially solo) and often take a lot of inspiration for my writing from my little adventures, from setting and plot ideas to character development and world-building. Also, train journeys have proven quite fruitful in producing some pretty solid sentences... that have yet to be of further use.

A few pictures (below) from my most recent solo trip.

I also occasionally play video games, listen to an unhealthy amount of rock music, obsess over fictional characters (other than my own), and partake in multiple other creative pastimes, most of which get abandoned rather unceremoniously (thank you, ADHD).

About my writeblr

My username 'a series of small things' comes from one of my favourite Van Gogh quotes; "great things are not done all at once, but by a series of small things brought together", which I think is really apt, not only as a writer but also just in everyday life too. Also, inspite being rather artistically inept myself, I have a fondness for ol' Vinny, which makes the quote even more perfect.

I hope to use this space as a way to start getting my original work out into the world and to hopefully make some like-minded friends along the way too! I'll mostly be posting some of my short stories and progress reports on my longer wips, but may also post some poetry and other random ramblings from time to time.

Feel free to ask me any questions and interact with me :)