#the precious murder family at pride

[summerscaries]

The modern family photo we’ll never get :(

inspired by this tweet:

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (3/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: fingering & oral sex, a kind of triangle, smut, the angst, description of the effects of murder, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"I am unable to control her. I can see in her gaze that she despises me. She doesn't understand that the cause is bigger than her or me." He whispered, looking blankly at the cream-coloured curtain behind which people were moving, their moans and sighs loud, pathetic, foreign.

Madam hummed with understanding, combing his hair with her fingers, her thighs where his head lay warm and soft.

"She is certainly frightened and lonely. A woman, unlike a man, has few options for resistance. Like any human being, she longs for freedom, my Prince." She said calmly, as if speaking to a small child, trailing her fingertips down his bare back.

He swallowed hard, feeling that the poppy milk he had drunk just a moment ago had begun to take effect, relaxing him, the pain in his eye socket finally subsiding, allowing him to breathe.

"We all want to be free. I understand it, but I cannot be weak. I protect my family." He whispered and closed his eyes – he felt the frustration of hearing Madam open her mouth, wanting to say more.

"Enough." He commanded coolly and she fell silent, tense, her trembling hand still trailing over his naked body.

He felt tears full of shame under his eyelids at the thought that he had confided in a whore.

As usual, as he walked back from her to the Red Keep, looking under his feet, he felt embarrassment and discouragement, emptiness and fatigue.

Daemon's daughter had a charisma that apparently made Vhagar listen to her, so they practised on her the way she gave commands.

Looking at her from the side, he had the impression that she stood beside him with only her body – her dark eyes remained blank, her face, her words, her gaze never directed towards him.

While some people dreamed of touching or riding a dragon, of being in the very company of these mystical beasts, she seemed indifferent to it – even though Vhagar listened to her like an obedient dog, she never tried to come closer, to touch her, to establish a relationship with her, as if the fact that she had to do this was beneath her dignity.

He hated her for despising what was most precious to him.

He hated her, but he needed her.

He stepped into his chamber through one of the hidden passages of the fortress and pulled off his cloak, tossing it carelessly onto his bed. He furrowed his brow as he saw that the books that had lain on the table earlier were scattered on the ground.

Someone was in his chamber, he thought with fury.

He froze as he heard screaming and crying, growing louder and louder, the guards one by one began to run down the corridor towards the chamber of his sister and her children.

He moved there, feeling anxiety, his heart in his throat as he entered the room and saw his mother kneeling over the bed of his nephew, his headless body looking like a doll.

He fell to his knees not knowing how else he was supposed to react to what he was seeing, feeling like he couldn't catch his breath, the screams and wails of his mother pressing her face against the boy's body so loud he felt like his skull was going to burst.

He was with a whore when they did it.

With a whore.

"What happened? What's the commotion?" He heard his brother's voice as he rushed into the chamber half drunk, staggering, stopping between him and his mother.

He watched as the expression on his face changed from shock and disbelief to despair, as a drawn-out, high-pitched, inhuman whine broke from his throat, followed by a sob, honest and full of suffering.

"– Jaehaerys –" He cried, whooping with tears, trying to touch him, but their mother pushed him away, shaking her head.

"– Aegon, please, leave, don't look at it –"

"– Jaehaerys – oh, gods, my boy, my sweet, sweet, little boy –" He babbled, dropping to his knees next to him, snuggling into their mother's womb, his hands clenched on her gown, a howl coming from his mouth as if someone had slit his insides with a knife.

He could feel his knee twitching in nervous reflex under the table, the wave of thoughts running over his mind making him feel dulled, hearing as if through a fog what was happening in the Small Council room.

His nephew was dead.

They had murdered Jaehaerys because they had not found him in his chamber.

He had been with a whore instead of defending his family.

He was next in line for the throne.

His nephew was dead.

A small, sweet, polite boy.

His children could sit on the Iron Throne.

"– bring me that whore – it's her fault – she certainly helped her father –" Aegon exclaimed, hitting the table top with his fist, his face all red and swollen from tears.

"– the guards went to her quarters, Your Grace – but I don't think she –" Criston Cole didn't finish as the door to the chamber opened and she was led inside like a prisoner.

It was apparent that she had been snatched from a deep sleep, her hair in a slight disarray, a thin brown robe thrown over her nightgown.

Aegon stood up, moving at her like a wild animal, Criston Cole and their mother had to restrain him, grabbing his arms to prevent him from killing her with his own hands.

"– WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU FUCKING WHORE – WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON? –" He shouted, and she shook her head, shocked, looking at him with wide eyes, confusion in her expression.

She had no idea what had happened, he thought.

He knew she had nothing to do with it.

His spies were watching her day and night.

"– I don't understand –" She muttered.

"– the royal heir, my Lady – our king's son was bestially murdered in front of his poor mother – the boy's head was cut off – we suspect this is your father's revenge for the death of Lucerys Velaryon –" Tyland Lannister said, glancing at her uncertainly.

It was the first time he had seen her in such a state – her eyebrows arched in pain, as if this news had truly broken her, her dark eyes large and filled with sadness, her mouth parted wide in an expression of helplessness.

"– I have nothing to do with this – gods, I swear –" She mumbled, shaking her head, his brother screaming in rage.

"– LIAR! –"

"– she's telling the truth –" He said forcing himself to be calm, running his fingers across the table top.

His brother froze, looking at him suddenly, his gaze such as if he had realised something. He pulled himself out of the arms of Criston Cole and their mother, walking slowly towards him, his heart in his throat with terror.

"– and you, brother? – where were you, our protector, when they murdered my little son? – hm? –" He asked in a trembling voice, his eyes glazed over with tears.

He pressed his lips together, trying not to burst into sobs, to remain calm, unable to bear the shame that filled his heart.

"– with that fucking old whore whose tits you like to cuddle up to? – with your second mummy when they cut my boy's head off? –" He shouted in his face, and he felt a single, lonely tear run down his cheek.

"– and you, Cole? –" His brother continued, turning abruptly the other way, leaving him with his humiliating words, heavy tears full of guilt one after another running down his cheeks. "– where the fuck have you been? –"

"– in my bed, my King –"

"– IN YOUR BED? – IN YOUR BED INSTEAD OF WATCHING OVER MY WIFE AND CHILDREN! –" He wailed, barely staying on his feet, finally burying his face in his hands, their mother embraced him to calm him down.

"– get out –" He cried out finally. "– GET OUT – GET OUT – GET OUT –"

He shouted, so they all stood up – as he walked out, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that she was looking at him, her dark, warm gaze full of compassion he so despised.

The next day the funeral took place, his mother and sister, led by the dead body of his nephew, moved in procession through the streets of King's Landing, showing their subjects the cruelty of the heiress to the throne.

He watched them from behind the walls, feeling an emptiness, wondering if, had he not gone out that night, he would have saved him, or if he himself would have died then.

He felt both relief that it had not been him and regret that it was his nephew who had paid the price.

"Your Highness. She is already in your chamber, as you ordered." Said one of the guards, and he merely nodded and walked back into the fortress.

When he walked into his quarters indeed, his cousin was inside and she jumped up, hearing his rapid footsteps. He passed her without a word and settled over the map, spreading his hand over it.

"There are several places where wild dragons have been seen. One of those places is the Vale." He said, placing one of the gold coins in that spot.

"I've heard of it." She whispered, her voice frustratingly soft. "The farmers complained that it devours their flocks, sheep and pigs."

He nodded his head without looking at her, taking his cup in his hand, drinking wine from the morning, heedless of how early it was.

"This is our first target. The other ones are too close to Rhaenyra. We can't risk them discovering our plan. We will fly there on Vhagar." He said, sitting down in the chair, pressing the cup to his lips, the slightly tart and sweet taste of the wine melting on his tongue.

He looked at her, hearing her silence.

The light of the sun illuminated her graceful, girlish figure, her full lips shone as brightly as her eyes, her expression unexpectedly gentle.

He was sure she would say something that would enrage him, offer him condolences, or worse, begin to pity and console him, trying to step into the role of his mother.

That she would try use what she had heard about him to manipulate him.

"More wine?" She asked.

He sighed, feeling some kind of relief, and nodded, extending his hand with the goblet to her.

She walked slowly to the table, took the silver jug from it and leaned over him, filling his cup fully; looking at her in this position, smelling her pleasant scent, he could see the soft outline of her plump breasts under her gown.

His soft length swelled and throbbed in his breeches against his will as he thought about his tongue rolling around her hard, puffy nipples.

Because of this, because of the moment of relief, because of the woman's touch, he lost his guard and led to tragedy.

"We leave tomorrow at first light."

Silence.

"I want to ask you something, cousin. And I know you won't like it." She said in a trembling voice, standing over him with the jug in her hands.

He froze in mid-motion, raising the wine cup to his lips, staring dully ahead.

"You like to take risks, don't you?" He snorted, finally taking a deep, draughty sip, feeling the alcohol slowly begin to dull his senses.

"No, but you give me no choice. I will fly with you and the will of the gods will happen, as you desire. However, the chance of me dying in flames or being devoured is just as great as the chance of me succeeding." She said uncertainly and he sighed heavily, setting his cup down on the table with a loud clink of steel.

"What do you want?"

She was silent for a long moment, standing over him, he heard her swallow hard.

"Servant. I want to choose one and take him to my bed. I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations." She muttered with sincere, childish shame, infuriating him.

I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations.

"Aren't you ashamed to ask something like that out loud? What self-respecting Lord will want you after this?" He asked, unable to look her in the face, for some reason feeling aroused, his erection pulsed as he imagined her beneath the young man, moaning in pleasure.

"I don't care what the lords will think of me. If I become a dragon rider, my maidenhood will be the least of their worries. I have no desire to become either a wife or a mother. I could try to hide it from you, but I stand here before you and ask your permission like a dog." She said in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, a disturbing idea filling his head.

He thought it was certainly the fault of the amount of wine he had drunk.

The fact that he needed to vent after what had happened, the humiliation he had experienced.

"Knowing what you ask, my soul will have no peace unless I am assured that no man has taken you by force." He replied at last, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze evidently told her what he was thinking of, for her words left her lips without hesitation.

"I'll let you watch if it will soothe your conscience." She said, and he grinned in a way from which she swallowed hard.

"It will."

There was something absurd and unreal about how, on the day of his nephew's funeral, when everyone was in mourning, he had walked by her side in the Red Keep, letting her pick the ripest, sweetest apple.

Her cool, almost disgust-filled approach to his inheritance made him treat his original idea of marrying her with reserve, and this way he could have something on her that he could use against her in the future.

If the need arose.

She had found out something about him against his will, and now he was going to use his advantage.

She paused, looking between the cloisters at one of the young men talking to a member of the Kingsguard, with golden, beautiful curls and bright eyes, his pearly laughter spreading around them.

She blinked, glancing over her shoulder at him, as if asking his opinion, and he wondered if this was how the gossiping ladies of the court felt.

"This is Tyland Lannister's servant. His distant relative. A bastard." He explained, looking at her indifferently. He saw that she pressed her lips together, as if she was thinking hard about something.

"Can he be trusted?" She asked, and he chuckled under his breath and shook his head, sighing in disbelief.

"Will your secret be safe with him? No."

Did she really believe that the entire Red Keep wouldn't find out about what she had done?

That the ladies of the court and the lords would not call her a shameless whore?

He blinked and led her away with a glance, seeing that she had simply moved ahead. He stood and watched in disbelief as she walked up to the two men and began to speak to them.

They both laughed, glancing at him as if she had said something amusing about him and he pressed his lips into a thin line at the thought.

Cunt.

After a while, the knight left them, and she was left alone with the boy who had piqued her attention. He leaned over her as if he was interested in what she was saying, his eyes big, his mouth twitching in a smile full of disbelief.

Had she just told him what she wanted to do?

Just like that, without any forethought or embarrassment.

The man bowed to her and escorted her away with a curious look as she returned to him, throwing him a calm look full of self-satisfaction.

"He agreed. He said I am beautiful." She said.

"You're a fool." He replied coldly.

She blinked and smiled warmly in a way from which he felt discomfort.

"Come."

He didn't understand what he was doing there – didn't understand why he was looking at them from afar like a shadow, why he was watching as his hands wandered over her cheeks and neck, as his lips placed soft, butterfly kisses on her lips.

"Do it slowly," she said, and he obeyed, not caring too much about his presence, eager to please her and to experience fulfilment himself.

He saw her flinch as his hand travelled to her breasts under the thin material of her gown, her fingers tightening on his wrist.

"– no –" He heard her whisper, her eyes closed, her head thrown back as if she was trying to relax. "– not yet –"

He was ashamed that he had been hard; he was ashamed that he had had to sit in a chair with his legs crossed so it wouldn't be visible. He was ashamed that he took some sick satisfaction from what he was looking at, knowing that he would be able to use it against her.

He swallowed hard as her eyes opened suddenly, her gaze finding his face and remaining fixed on him as the boy's lips sank into her neck again and again.

She sighed as he pressed her against the bed with his body, growing more and more aroused and impatient, her fingers clenched on his tunic in some helpless gesture, her doe eyes shining from tears of discomfort.

"– slow down –" He commanded, and the man raised his head and looked at him, breathing heavily, shocked.

"– Your Highness? –"

"– slow down, I said –" He repeated, looking at her, her full lips parted slightly, in her gaze the pain and heat from which he felt his cock swell all over his breeches, the wine humming in his head, filling his body with a pleasant warmth.

He felt the satisfaction of seeing that when the boy returned to his caresses, treating her more gently, running his hands down her waist, her gaze did not leave him, fixed on him.

He was sure for some reason that she would ask him to join them.

That she didn't really want this pathetic, simple boy who barely kept his cock in his trousers at all.

"– sink your fingers between her thighs – prepare her properly –" He instructed him and saw that her eyes grew big as she swallowed hard, looking up at her lover who, in one sure movement, lifted the skirt of her gown, slipping his hand under it.

She moaned as he touched her there and closed her eyes for a brief moment, but after a while her brow arched in some kind of uncomfortable expression, her hips swung back as if she were running away from him.

He was doing it too fast, without affection, without finesse, rushing to his own fulfilment and he was not surprised, but that was not the purpose of this whole farce.

Indeed, she could have burned in the dragon's fire, and the fact that she was just about to experience what a man's peak was was hardly what she had imagined.

He wondered if he should intervene, recognising that she wanted it herself.

And then he saw his hand slide down to his breeches and he simply rose from his seat.

"– step back, boy –" He snarled, approaching them lazily.

The boy rose and moved away, shocked as was his cousin, leaning on her elbows, her dark eyes big and shining, her cheeks and lips parted in a drawn-out breath red with emotion.

She sighed as he grabbed her around the waist and moved her so that he sat behind her back, placing his legs on either side of her body, pulling her close so she could feel on her ass what she had done to him.

How fucking hard he was because of her and her idea.

His fingers ran over her neck and tilted her head so that she rested her back against his shoulder, his nose pressed against her hot, fragrant, sweaty cheek as his free hand forced her to bend her legs at the knees, lowering her skirts and smallclothes.

"– bend over and lick her –" He commanded, running his full lips over her bare skin, stroking the silky structure of the inside of her thigh with his palm, as if he wanted to reassure her and prepare her for what was about to happen.

"– what? –" She muttered quietly, tense, in some involuntary, helpless reflex reaching her hand back, clasping it softly in his hair.

The man swallowed hard, sensing already, probably subconsciously, that he would not regain control of the situation and could not hope for fulfilment.

Good, he thought.

There was no reason why he should fill her with his worthless seed or take her maidenhood.

"– easy –" He whispered in her ear, running his thumb over her jawline, her thigh quivering in his embrace. "– let me take care of this –"

He said and nodded, ordering the boy to obey his command. The man swallowed and leaned in, her hips moving backwards in a subconscious reflex, wanting to protect herself, but they met his body, pressing against his rock-hard length.

Her lips parted in shock as she moaned suddenly, apparently feeling the man's tongue deep inside her, while his hand slid from her thigh to her sticky, swollen folds, seeking her puffy bud.

"– ah – oh, gods, t-too much, too much –" She mewled, clenching her fingers tighter in his white hair, his hands from her jaw slipping under the fabric of her gown, sinking slowly into the soft, plump skin of her breasts.

"– you wanted it yourself – go on –" He said dryly, his last words directed at the man thrusting between her throbbing slit with his tongue.

She threw her head back with a girlish, sweet moan as the man sped up, the tips of their noses touching as his forehead pressed against hers.

"– if only you were my little sister – I'd caress you like this every night – would you like it? –" He gasped encouragingly, knowing exactly what he wanted to do to her, feeling her body squirm in his embrace in pure ecstasy.

He could take Daemon's place by her side.

To be her protector, the man in whom she would seek refuge.

She gasped as his thumb began to tease her hard nipple in an offhanded manner, the fingers of his other hand digging lazily into her leaking cunt in circular motions, securing her path to fulfilment to the accompaniment of the loud clicks of the boy's saliva between her thighs.

"– what would your father say at the sight of this – hm? – do you think he would be proud? –" He whispered, feeling that his fingers were all sticky from her wetness. She shook her head quickly, moaning at the same time, slowly losing touch with reality.

He didn't even notice when he started panting himself, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his manhood between her buttocks, feeling the tightness in his stones testifying that he himself was fully aroused.

"– you like it, don't you? – I can feel you're close – come on his face –" He breathed out, and she moaned and shook her head, raising her big, tear-filled eyes at him, her face smooth and bright up close, her eyelashes long and black, as beautiful as her lips and eyebrows arched in indecision.

"– g-gods, stop –" She mumbled out, and after a moment he felt her body shake in convulsion, her lips parted wide as she cried out in pleasure, rocking her hips into the strokes of his fingers, his other hand kneading her soft breast like dough.

"– that's what I thought – just like that – easy now –" He hummed, letting his forehead last pressed against hers while she trembled all over, giving her a sense of reassurance. He watched with some kind of warmth as she panted heavily with her eyes closed, tears of shame, horror and fulfilment flowing down her red, sweaty cheeks.

"You may leave." He commanded, glancing sideways out of the corner of his eye at her pathetic lover. "If you tell anyone about this, I will cut your tongue out."

The man rose from between her thighs, all red with exertion, wiped his chin and lips and climbed off the bed, his long, hard erection clearly outlined in his trousers.

He smirked under his breath at the sight of it, concentrating on her accelerated breathing, on her hot, wet womanhood pulsing under his fingers, on her soft breast on which he simply held his hand, not moving, feeling her heart pounding hard in her chest.

He let her turn in his embrace, let her snuggle into his body, let her throw her arms around his neck, lingering with her like this, spread out comfortably on the pillow behind his back, feeling his hard manhood push against her stomach again and again.

He stroked her soft, long hair, thinking with tenderness that he now had her in his grasp.

______

Author's note: I know that in my requests I don't allow requests for triangles in my stories and I never write them because I just don't like them, but when I came up with this idea here my brain was like:………. And you have what you have. Let's just say that this is a tiny break of my rule for you, my dear readers.

[pretzel-box]

hi hi, so so sosslsk, I wanted to request that like GN!Reader was Sebastian's lover right? But recently we have been manipulated/ brainwashed to work with Urbanshade; etc, until we needed to have a talk with sebastian of the 9 people's deaths, and he is like tryna talk us out of it basically?

(this is where he is human before turning into fishe man, RAHHAHSGSHS)

Tags: Angst, Established Relationship [Marriage], GN!Reader & Human Sebastian. Happens before Sebastian gets turned into a fishstick.

Words: 1,1k

The golden watch on your wrist ticked with a steady rhythm, mocking the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind as the elevator descended. Each second dragged out in slow motion, stretching your anticipation and dread to unbearable lengths.

5.

The polished surface of the watch glinted under the soft lighting of the elevator, reflecting a time that you wished could speed up or rewind—anything to change the direction of the day. You had always taken pride in your job, a prestigious position at Urbanshade’s law department. Power flowed through your hands like water, bending situations to your favor. Today, though, your influence felt useless, suffocating you as it pushed down on your chest.

4.

The office had been in turmoil ever since the terrifying news broke. The murder of a colleague, followed by eight more brutal killings, had left a scar on the entire building. The once lively chatter of coworkers was now replaced by grim silence, as everyone buried themselves in paperwork, avoiding eye contact, avoiding thoughts of their own mortality. How could someone kill nine people with such callousness…

3.

But through it all, no matter how hard your workday was, Sebastian was your anchor once you stepped into your shared apartment. Your freshly married husband, your love. He had been your rock, comforting you in ways no one else could, understanding you without words. His presence was a beacon of light in your darkened days. Each night, no matter how draining work has been, Sebastian would welcome you home with open arms, making the world feel safe again. He reminded you how precious life was and how grateful you were to still be living it. There was no denying it,killings were terrible, but at least, you thought, Sebastian was there, safe—alive.

2.

But that sense of safety had shattered when you saw the file, that Urbanshad gave you.

Sebastian’s face. The man you’d shared your life with, your hopes and dreams, stared back at you from a police mugshot. The eyes you adored, blacked out by a censor bar, only deepened the sick feeling in your stomach. The file had slipped from your fingers, its weight dragging your world down with it. Paper truly never felt so heavy.

Sebastian wasn’t just involved, not a witness or a bystander, no,—he was the killer. Your husband, the man who made you feel protected and cherished, had ended nine lives in cold blood and pretended that nothing happened. He had lived his happy little life with yours while 9 whole families lost someone dear. How could the person who breathed life into you be the person that ended others so easily…

1.

The elevator doors opened. You stepped into the dimly lit hallway, feeling as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet.

"He is in here," a man spoke up harshly, his voice cutting through the quiet. He stood beside a heavy metallic door, dressed in a security uniform. With a gloved hand, he fished out an orange key card and swiped it quickly through the scanner. The door clicked open with a mechanical whirr, but you barely noticed. Your focus was locked on the black-haired man cuffed to the table inside the room, two guards standing ominously behind him.

Sebastian.

Your mind struggled to reconcile the image before you with the person you knew.

Your Sebastian—the one who promised you the sun and the moon, who always listened when you vented, who made you home-cooked meals and did your skincare routine with you every morning—was now sitting there, bound, and accused of unspeakable crimes. His face was gaunt, his eyes red and puffy, fresh tears glistening on his cheeks. And even like this, broken and in despair, he still looked precious in your eyes.

It all didn’t make sense. It couldn’t.

The file had said it all—Sebastian was the one responsible for the brutal murders. The evidence was ironclad, but seeing him now, so broken, planted a seed of doubt in your heart. Your mind tried to hold on to the horrific details you had read, but your heart—the part that loved him—was pulling in the opposite direction.

You stepped closer, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

"Sebastian..." Your voice cracked, and his head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes locking onto yours. The mutual understanding started to break slowly and you really wanted to try and hold it stable.

"Please, you have to believe me," he rasped, his voice hoarse with desperation. "I didn’t do it. I swear, I didn’t kill anyone. I’m being framed."

The words hung in the air between you, thick with emotion. He pulled against the cuffs, his eyes pleading. He yanked his body to the front, trying to reach you on the other side of the table. Yet, somehow, you took a step back, scared. The men behind him pulled him back forcefully onto his chair. "You know me. You know I could never do something like this. I—I'm being set up, they want to pin it all on me. But you, you have to believe me. Please. You are my wife, you know me!"

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. His voice—so familiar, so full of pain—shook you to your core. This was the man who had held you through your darkest nights, who had been there for every milestone, who had never once let you down. Could he really be capable of such evil?

"But the file..." you whispered, fighting to maintain a hold on logic. "The evidence—"

"The evidence is fake!" Sebastian interrupted, his voice rising in desperation. "They’re manipulating everything. I don’t know how, but they’re doing this to destroy me. I don’t have much time, but you—you have to believe me. I’m innocent."

Your mind raced, torn between the cold facts you had read and the person sitting in front of you, begging for your trust. You could see the fear in his eyes, the same eyes that had always been so full of love for you.

The longer you looked at him, the harder it became to hold on to the accusations. How could the man who had been your everything, your safe place, be capable of such cruelty? Every fiber of your being wanted to believe him, to trust in the Sebastian you knew.

You took a breath, shaky and shallow. "Sebastian... I—" you paused, your voice trembling, the weight of the moment suffocating. "I believe you."

Tears spilled down Sebastian’s face as he sagged in relief. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, I knew you would."

“But Ink doesn't lie.”

[aphroditelovesu]

Can you do a yandere! Annabeth x reader?

''You are mine and I am yours. No one can change this fact, I suggest you just accept the truth.'' — Annabeth Chase.

❝ 🦉 — lady l: I absolutely love Annabeth. As I would also be a daughter of Athena, if I were from the PJO universe, I understand my girl perfectly, so I'm more than happy to write to her! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🧡🧡

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of murder, manipulation, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships.

❝🦉pairing: yandere!annabeth chase x gender neutral!reader.

Annabeth Chase had always been incredibly intelligent, proud and insightful, perhaps because she was the daughter of Athena or because she was always like that. Since she was a child, she was always sure of what she wanted and when she wanted something she didn't have the habit of giving up. She was never the giving up type and that only surfaced within her when she met you.

She is naturally a strategist and everything she does is carefully planned, calculated and executed. She never acts out of emotion but out of reason. Annabeth considers those who act without thinking to be fools and she will never be like that. Not even with her obsession.

Annabeth knows that her behavior around you, the thoughts she has for you are considered ''morally wrong'', but she doesn't care about that. She's a demigoddess, she has other issues to deal with than caring about morals and whether what she does or thinks is wrong.

She is extremely controlling and wants everything to be done her way, which suggests that she is arrogant. In a way, that's true, but Annabeth cares about you more than anyone else and she doesn't want you to get burned, so you should do things her way, the right way.

Annabeth is quite possessive, she hates it when you're around other people. You belong to her. From the moment you capture her attention, you become hers and she will not tolerate you betraying her in any way.

She hates it when people get close to you and she will use her intelligence to her advantage to keep people away from you. Whether manipulating you or them, she will not allow you to be stolen from her. Annabeth prefers not to get her hands dirty, so she will get rid of troubles in a way where she doesn't have to kill. At least not directly.

Annabeth admires you, she adores you to a certain extent, but she wants you to adore her more, to venerate her. She is a very proud daughter of Athena, she feels great pride and admiration for her mother and hopes, no, she wants you to worship her as much as she worships the gods.

She worships all gods, even those she has animosity towards their children, Annabeth respects them greatly and expects you to do the same. If you don't pay attention to the gods, she will have to correct you to fix this.

Annabeth is very affectionate, even more than she likes to admit. She wants physical contact for as long as possible, hugs, cuddles and kisses are precious to her and they are all yours. She loves it when you let her read to you, tell you about the gods and their stories. These are her favorite moments together, not only can she boast of her knowledge but also spend time with you.

She is very manipulative and will use this to her advantage, to keep you away from everyone she considers a threat to your relationship. At first, it was just campers that she didn't see any reason for you to get close to, but it quickly escalated to the point where she didn't even want your family around you. Annabeth is smart enough to know that you won't abandon your family that easily, but she will find a way. She always finds a way.

Annabeth will punish you for anything wrong you do, in this case, what she considers wrong. She wants to control you completely, to make you so dependent on her that you will need her for anything you are going to do. She's not the type to speak more than once and when she gives you an order, she expects you to obey without question.

All she wants is you, to be with you. And she knows she will have you. Annabeth just wants a peaceful life with you, without having to worry about others. You've been through so much, shouldn't you be able to be happy? Annabeth will ensure that nothing and no one, not even the gods, get in your way. She is ready to fight anyone for you.

[petrichorium]

he doesn’t expect to see you when he does. of course he knows you’re the queen’s right hand (he remembers the first time he’d heard of it, the pride that welled up within him. not surprise, though; he’d always been enamored with your vicious, angry ambition and combined with your brilliant mind it had been plain to see even then just how far you’d rise) but he had thought you’d be back at your home estate for the winter—it’s southern, a far more pleasant climate in the colder months, and your mother tends to fall ill.

but then you come hurrying out of the corridor, hand held by the queen like a lifeline, and he can’t find it within him to care that he hadn’t intended for you to witness the violence of his coup. he hasn’t seen you in years. you’ve grown; your skirts graze the floor with length that would have tripped you in your youth, the neckline is lower than your mother ever would have allowed. you hold yourself like a court lady, the very picture of regal grace, and when he lifts his blindfold to see you clearly your eyes widen with immediate recognition.

he’s always loved your eyes, expressive but only to him. he’s happy to find that he hasn’t lost the ability to read them; there’s fear, certainly, but that hunger you’ve always held is still churning within them, and it rears its lovely head the moment he sees the pieces click into place in your mind—that he is the leader, that he remembers you, and that he is staring right at you all but openly declaring his intent. it’s only when the queen moves that he tears his gaze away, and he only does it because she breaks the line of sight with herself, eye contact impossible with her hiding you behind her body. it’s maternal; precious, he’d think, if he weren’t so irked by an inability to see you.

(he holds little affection for his aunt but of all his remaining family she likely is his favorite, and the least culpable in the plot to murder him all those years ago. he’s inclined to attribute it to the fact that she’s married into the family, warped but not formed by its toxic nature. he doesn’t intend to kill her—never had—but you’re beside her, and she’ll have to forgive him for how he hasn't much mental capacity to focus on anything else the moment he lays eyes on you)

he wishes he could speak with you now, wishes he had the time. but he can’t, because he doesn’t, and he knows that he wants you alone as soon as possible so he orders his men to take you to the queen’s quarters. then he realizes you’ll have a room there—he specifies that he means the queen’s bedchamber, leaving no room for ambiguity in his intentions.

he’s distracted in the hours afterwards. there’s much to do, he hasn’t even found his uncle to relieve his head from his shoulders, yet his mind can’t stop straying to the thought that you’re up there pacing and wondering.

it’s a long night. by the time he’s taken care of everything and finally has the opportunity to ascend the steps to where his men have locked you up, it’s nearly sunrise. he has little doubt that you’ll still be up anyway; it’d be a miracle if you were able to sleep for even a few minutes.

he’s thought about this moment for a long time. seeing you again for the first time, that hadn’t been so clear; he’d anticipated having to search for you, anticipated you hiding from him. but he’d known the whole time that eventually he’d be able to have this conversation, at least once, no matter what.

you still take him by surprise by hitting him when he enters.

you’ve managed to find the queen’s crown—why it’s in her bedchamber rather than safely locked away he doesn’t know, though in the fleeting millisecond he witnesses it in your hand he thinks it belongs there. a point hits his forehead with enough force to maim, slamming his head sideways, and he’s thankful he thought ahead enough to dismiss his guards before entering. he’s so shocked it takes him a moment to turn back to you, finding you standing there with the same amount of shock on your face as he’s feeling. his lips part in a grin as he reaches up to press his thumb against the split skin now bisecting his left brow, already bleeding profusely.

“wow, suddenly i’m very glad we locked you up.”

“are you insane?” you yelp as he takes a step towards you, stumbling back a step of your own and dropping the crown out of shock. “don’t come any closer.”

“aww.” he pouts. takes another step.

you step back again, eyes frantic. “i’m not joking, gojo, don’t come near me, at least not until you explain—”

“the assassination failed, years ago.” he obeys you, mostly because he thinks you might escape into the bathroom if he pushes you too far. “but with my parents dead, it was safer for my attempted murderers to think otherwise. i bided my time until i was strong enough to retake my throne, and ah… get revenge upon those murderers, i suppose. you were a bit of a surprise, i’ll admit—a fortunate one, to be fair. i’d been preparing to search for you, but here you are. right before me.”

“what did you do with her majesty,” you demand, ignoring the ending that he’s tagged on as you take another step away so that you’re out of his wingspan as he reaches out to touch you, and the sentiment is so sweet that he can’t help but smile.

“no concern for her husband, hm? the king? haven’t heard of him?”

your sneer makes him laugh outright. it's instinct to lean in and flick the middle of your forehead like a schoolboy. it stuns you; you blink in surprise, then again in indignation, but he’s giving you a real answer before you can voice an opinion.

“auntie’s fine, she’s hours away from the castle by now. headed back to her kingdom—that’s where you were going to go with her, yeah? lucky i found you before you slipped away, would’ve been a real pain to court you from there.”

“court me?”

“uncle’s well and truly dead, though. with no sons it’s far less messy, i am the most blatant heir to the throne. of course any number of my cousins—the living ones, anyway—could dispute my claim but that would certainly take a level of backbone i don’t believe any of them possess.”

“gojo, do not ignore me—”

he snickers. “that’ll be hilarious once you bear the name too.”

you let out a strangled noise, “you are—too presumptuous, you fiend!”

“fiend, you say! oh, that’s a new one. i like it, say it again.”

“you brute.” it’s quieter this time, accompanied by a quiver in your lower lip—he decides he’s toyed with you enough. the night has been harder for you than him, and the morning won’t be much better.

“brute, is it? i’ll have you know i spent hours in the garden picking flowers before coming to you.”

he watches the realization dawn on you. you take a step back, heel hitting the bed—he doesn’t follow anymore, but he does finally reveal the bouquet he’s been hiding behind his back. your jaw drops as your eyes fall on it.

he’s never been one for tradition. if you weren’t you, he probably wouldn’t have bothered with the customary manner of proposal. nothing else about the situation is traditional, though, so he considers it more a favor for you; a betrothal gift, a little bit of normalcy. and though he thinks his lineage is little more than a curse, he can’t help but think the blue morning glories of his family and the deep purple ones representing his status as reigning monarch look striking sitting next to your family’s dahlias.

your movements are slow and dreamlike as you take the flowers from his outstretched hand.

“you cannot be serious,” you say, falling to sit slumped on the bed with the bouquet in your hands.

“you wouldn’t believe how difficult it was to find dahlias on those grounds, couldn’t your ancestors have chosen a different one? couldn’t the gardeners have grown more?”

“i grew them.” it’s little more than a murmur, dazed, as your finger comes up to stroke at the petals of the pale pink flower. “for—for whatever match the queen would give me.”

there’s a rushing fury that fills him at that. it’s foolish; he’s won, and he’s the best suitor in the kingdom now if there even had been competition (or will be, once he’s coronated in the morning), there’s no reason to feel jealousy over someone who doesn’t even exist.

yet it’s that burning which bids him to pull the blindfold off quicker than he can truly think about it—compels him to drop to his knees before you even faster, drawing your attention as he lays his head in your lap and wraps an arm around your covered thighs under the pretense that it’s for support rather than to feel you. if he weren’t well aware of how you’d react, and less than eager to be shoved away, he might have lunged up and kissed you when your eyes lifted from the flowers to his uncovered gaze.

“you’re not serious,” you repeat. your eyes are wide as they stare down at him, terrified yet ablaze with that hungry fire he thinks he’d let consume him if it would make you happy.

“everything i’ve wanted,” he tells you again, as if that could possibly get across how desperate he’s been to make you his queen. “for so long.”

usurper!gojo masterlist

[cressidagrey]

Something good and right and real - Chapter 5

Summary:

Azriel had spent centuries believing that he of all people didn't deserve a mate. And if anything, the last three years had just galvinised that particular belief. And then he meets her.

The first time Oriana met Azriel, she thought that he reminded her of a skittish cat. Shy and a little bit broken. Good for him that she absolutely excelled in fixing the things around her.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing, Discussion of Murder

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

Tartera lived in the mountains surrounding Velaris. 

Not unlike Hewn City, a whole world carved from the mountain. Hollowed out, held together by magic. Though, they had done it first. 

There were legends of her kind, of the first Tartera fairies being carved from stone itself. Maybe that was why they felt so at ease in the mountain. 

Oriana easily admitted that while she could withstand fire like every Tartera, she did like the sun and the fresh air. 

Cyrus hated going into the mountain. Probably not helped by the fact that he hated the fire as well. 

Still, once a year, for their grandmother’s birthday, they went into the mountain, Oriana holding a ball of fire in her palm as they made their way through the entrance, greeting the guards and then walking deeper into the mountain. 

It should just be around midday. Lunch promised to be a less formal affair than dinner ever had been, and her grandmother would probably be holding court like she usually did. 

Oriana had never actually asked how old her grandmother was. A few millennials maybe?

Her mother was close to 800 years old, after all, her oldest sister was around 600. 

Oriana was the youngest just over 200 years of age. 

But Cyra, Custodian of the Mountain…well, she was older than all of them. 

She could tell stories about things that hadn’t happened in centuries, about people long dead, a time before the great war…

Cyra had lived through it all. 

Still, their grandmother wasn’t the first member of their family that they met. That honour belonged to her brother Samson, a guard member that protected the mountain from…well, anybody that thought that they should get a cut out of the precious metals and gems they mined eyes day. They didn’t have many, enchantments and wards kept out…most if not all. 

He greeted them with a nod, a dark red cloak wrapped around broad shoulders, fastened with the traditional brooch, which made it obvious to what creed he belonged. 

“Cyrus, Oriana,” he rumbled, always a man of few words. 

“Samson,” she responded, having absolutely no qualms about coming up to him and hugging him, even when he never quite hugged her back. He never told her to stop either. And she knew he would do that if it really bothered him. “How has it been?”

“Not much has changed since last year,” he responded. “Titania was wondering when you two would finally arrive.”

Of course, their oldest sister would wonder. She was the first daughter of the first daughter after all. 

It marked her as 2nd in command to the mountains and their realm, if one could call it like that. 

They lived under the command of the Night Court but within the mountain, the word of her Grandmother was law. 

The word of Adara was law. The word of Titania was law. Then Althea, Titania's eldest daughter… 

Then Enya, their middle sister. 

It had never needed to go further down the line than that. 

Which was good for Oriana, because then it would have been her word that would be listened to, and nobody wanted that. 

She would make a really bad Custodian of the Mountain. Oriana wasn’t prideful enough to admit that. 

She much preferred the art of making jewellery over the art of ruling. Oriana would leave the ruling to her grandmother and mother and sister and niece. 

Oriana would stay in the forge. 

Still, she was the third daughter of the first daughter. If they kept to something as human as a title…well, then she would probably be something akin to a princess. 

A runaway princess. Who didn’t particularly like the title either. 

In the mountain, she was chattel of a sort. 

Not high enough in the line of succession to have any right to reign. But high enough that she had been used to broker an alliance between her family and Wynstan’s. Giving them a tertiary claim to her grandmother’s council table and cementing her mother’s claim to the headship of the mountain. 

“Well, here we are,” Cyrus responded with a sigh... “Just when we said we would come.” Samson just shrugged, all of them well used to their eldest sisters’ moods, and followed along with him to the Great Hall. 

Oriana pulled back her shoulders, patting down her unruly curls that escaped the bun she had urged it into that morning and then walked into the Great Hall behind her brothers. 

Their entrance was marked with the quietening of conversation until it finally ceased completely. Her fist clenched at that, but she said nothing, the smile on her face set in place, her shoulders back, every step measured. 

She wore one of her more traditional gowns, something that Enya had made for her years ago because she didn’t want to listen to her mother’s comments that she would make with near certainty if Oriana wore anything that wasn’t obviously Tartera in its origins. This was. This had her sister all over it. 

Complete with the belt comprised of chains and charms, that Oriana had made herself, every single one carrying her maker’s mark. 

She wore her creed openly, there for everybody to see. 

People stared. Of course, they did. 

Decades ago, the sight of Oriana had been common among the Great Hall, among the other fairies living in the mountain. 

She had worked here, lived along them. There had been no reason to think of her as anything but Tartera, even with her pointy ears. 

She had kept most of her abilities quiet, no fire dancing at her fingertips unless she was in the forge…no flames flicking through her eyes.  Then Wynstan…had happened, and her magic had been in a state of flux. She was quite certain that people had been terrified of her. 

Now…Now, with her only being here so rarely…well, Oriana was legend and myth. 

Oriana Fireborn, Third Daughter of the First Daughter. 

It was whispered behind her back. 

She wondered what some of them would think if they knew about what lay beneath the skirts swishing around her ankles. 

What she wasn’t wearing openly was the harness that kept the two knives Azriel had given her strapped to her thighs.  But it was still there, easily able to be accessed, thanks to the slits in the side seams of her skirt.

She highly doubted that she would even need them, but she was also quite sure that the only reason he hadn’t told her to wear them, was because he didn’t think she was going to agree to it. 

Jokes on him. She definitely agreed. 

Granted, the only person she had ever really thought about stabbing in the mountain was no other than Wynstan’s older brother Titus, but that could change.

And if the knives weren’t enough….well, she had Azriel’s shadows wrapped around her wrist, twisting themselves through her bracelet stacks, until it seemed like they were polished onyx and part of them. 

Her grandmother was holding court at the High Table. Even as tiny as her grandmother was, she still somehow seemed larger than life to Oriana. And the curtsy came to her like a second nature. 

“Oriana.” She was home. Old, wrinkled hands gently patted her cheek. “Let me look at you, little flame.”

She leaned into her grandmother’s touch, let the glamour that she kept around her eyes fall and her grandmother stared into the flames of her eyes, flicking merrily. 

Somehow her grandmother just seemed to know things. She stared at Oriana and a pleased smile appeared on her face. She wondered if her grandmother somehow knew about Azriel. 

“Happy Birthday,” Oriana said quietly. 

Her grandmother hummed. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” she told Oriana pointedly. 

Cyrus took her place as she rose gracefully and stepped to the side, dipping into a shallower curtsy as she reached her mother. 

When she was younger, Oriana had wanted to be like her mother. Otherworldly beautiful, bleeding elegance with every step. 

The one thing she had inherited from her was her height. Gracefulness had been something hard-won and definitely not inbred for her. 

And finally, Oriana had realised that while she could put on a mask of something similar to her mother if the situation called for it, she had absolutely no want whatsoever to spend every hour and every day like that. 

She was fine with that. 

“Mama,” she greeted her and her mother mustered her. She had the sudden want to twitch under her gaze and pat down her hair, but she didn’t. She wasn’t a youngling any longer. She was over two centuries old. Her mother should be well used to Oriana showing up, smudged with soot and still neck deep in the theory behind one of her enchantments. 

That was what she excelled in. 

“You are looking…well,” her mother finally said quietly. “Are you ready to come back to life with us properly?”

Of course. 

Regardless of how long Oriana stayed living in Velaris, regardless of how well she did there…her mother could still not understand it. 

Of course not. 

To her mother, every position within the mountain was higher than anything Oriana could reach outside of it. 

Within the mountain she had been one of the best, respected and even feared…Outside Oriana played at being a simple shopkeeper as far as her mother was concerned. 

“Not on a bet,” Oriana responded drily. “I quite like my life in Velaris.”

Her mother just sighed. 

“You were always odd,” came the voice of her oldest sister to her side and Oriana smiled at her. 

“Titania,” she greeted her. 

“Not bored yet of making nothing but earrings and bracelets?” Her sister asked, as always prodding and probing to find a chip in her armour. The problem was only that Oriana knew Titania’s playbook by heart. 

“It’s quite relaxing,” she responded evenly. “I think I of all people deserve that after what happened.”

Her sister softened. 

Regardless of how prickly Titania could be, there were a few things Oriana could count on. Titania would prickle and prod, but nobody else was allowed to do that same, or hell would rain onto them. 

And Titania adored her husband and daughter more than life itself. 

“I’ll never understand you,” Titania muttered under her breath, making Oriana laugh softly.

That was just the opening said husband and daughter needed to slide into the conversation, with Anthea happily coming bouncing right up and hugging her tightly. She had only celebrated her 20th birthday months ago, a child her sister had longed for desperately for decades until they had finally gotten her.

“Aunt Oriana!” Anthea sing songed. “So do I get a gift?” she asked her and Oriana couldn’t help but snort in amusement. 

“You aren’t the one whose birthday it is,” she pointed out reasonably. Anthea pouted. 

Oriana sighed, slipping off one of the many bracelets she wore. The one that she had made with Anthea in mind, a white opal inset. 

She held it out to her eldest niece, who snatched it up. 

“I am your favourite,” she singsonged. “Thank you!”

Toron, Anthea’s father, snorted in amusement, reaching out to ruffle Oriana’s hair. She glared at her brother-in-law. He gave her a bright grin in response. 

“You are all ridiculous,” Enya said, crossing her arms. The middle sister. “At least you are wearing a proper dress. I was terrified that the High Fae Fashion may have started to drag on you.” 

“I like my gowns. Especially this one. You made it after all,” Oriana agreed peacefully, taking a seat between Toron and Enya. 

“And what did you bring back for me?” Toron asked her. 

“You are too old for gifts,” she hit back with a roll of her eyes, amused beside herself.  

“700 years isn’t old,” he disagreed with a pout. 

“True, you are nearly a spring chicken,” Enya sniped under her breath. 

“Where’s Kiran?” she wondered, eyes searching around the room. 

“Where do you think he possibly could be?” Enya snorted in amusement. Right. Stupid question. Probably somewhere deep inside his forge. 

“How’s the leg holding up?” Oriana asked Toron and he shrugged. She looked down under the table as he pulled up his pants leg, showing the gold and silver prosthetic leg. He had lost his leg in the same accident that had killed Oriana’s father. 

The prosthetic leg had been made by himself, enchanted by Oriana and fitted by Enya, a healer by Creed. 

It worked a treat for him, still, it had taken decades to perfect it and Oriana still worried that it was going to stop working one day and she couldn’t fix it. 

She fixed everything. 

“All good,” he promised her. “Though I figured since you were here, you were going to take it apart once again.”

“Don’t think I have the time for it, I am not planning to stay longer than 3 days,” she admitted. “But I’ll check up on it.”

“Oh?” Toron asked, so much said in such a small noise. 

“I have things to take care of back in Velaris,” she admitted before she finally got to actually eat some of the food that was waiting for her. 

She slipped right back into the midst of her family. Now that she wasn’t with them year-round, she could appreciate them a whole lot more. Crazy, how that sounded. 

Still, she listened to the newest gossip that Enya provided and followed along with her sister as Enya dragged her to her room to get ready for the evening ball. 

“What have you done to your poor hair?” Enya asked her, pulling a grimace as she picked out the few dozen of hairpins that Oriana used on a normal day to keep her hair contained. 

It was long and thick and curly, and it never seemed to quite do what she wanted. So up into a bun it went, so that it wasnÄt going to interfere with her work. 

“Nothing?” Oriana asked and Enya growled at her. She knew better than to say anything when her sister got like that, dousing her hair in some kind of potion or other. 

She held her tongue, even when she worried about going bald. 

Still, whatever Enya did to her hair, for once managed to make it look…well, manageable. The curls were shiny and defined, and it was soft to the touch, falling to her waist in onyx black ringlets. 

“I’ll get you a bottle,” Enya muttered under her breath. “I can’t look at you when you look like that.” 

Oriana bit back the amusement. 

It wasn’t like she didn’t care how she looked. She was big enough to own too many dresses and way too much jewellery. But she was far removed from her older sisters, for whom all of that was a secondary calling of sports. 

If Enya wasn’t busy stitching up flesh, she was stitching up dresses. 

Still, Oriana sat through Enya’s primping and prodding with no protests, because that was how Enya showed her love. 

Oriana just snuck her jewellery in response. 

“You have a gown?” she asked Oriana, who just stared at her. 

“You mean a gown that you aren’t going to let me wear anyway?” she responded drily and Enya huffed. 

Oriana bit back a smile.

Enya did let her choose her own jewellery, let her pin back one side of her hair with a couple of pins decorated with white opals, her grandmother’s favourite stones. 

And then Enya brought out the dress. 

Marigold yellow layers upon layers of nearly shine through silk, so thin that everything could ruin it…so thin that it would be seethrough if there wasn’t so much of it. 

That together with a yellow-gold gem-studded belt that she had made for Enya years ago, so wide that it would cover much of her midsection. 

“I think it will look beautiful,” Enya told her, brokering no argument, already starting to unlace the back of her dress for her. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Oriana agreed as she pulled her dress over her head. 

For a moment, Enya was quiet. 

“Oriana.”

“Yes?”

“Any particular reason why in the world you have knives strapped to your thighs.”

Oriana would make a truly horrible spy, because she totally forgot that she had them. 

She had been so busy with…practically everything else that the knives that had been a comforting weight just hours prior had been promptly forgotten. 

Somehow she thought that Azriel would look at her with this face somewhere between amusement and tragic despair. 

“Call it protection?” Oriana suggested and Enya just glared at her. 

“Can you even use them?” her sister asked her. “Maybe we should have Samson show you how to do it. Before you accidentally stab yourself.”

“I can use them,” Oriana defended herself. “He taught me how to use them.”

“Samson?” Enya wondered. 

She bit her lip. 

“No,” she admitted. “My mate.”

Enya just stared at her. 

“Cyrus knows. Now you.”

And then there was only a soft shocked sound before Enya enveloped her into a tight hug. “Oh, Oriana. I am so pleased for you,” her sister whispered. 

Oriana knew that she meant it. 

Enya maybe didn’t want a mate for herself, but that didn’t stop her from being supportive of her.  

“When did it happen?” Enya asked her as she let her go, picking up the dress and helping Oriana pull it over her head. 

“A few weeks ago,” Oriana said softly. “I was just walking the streets…and there he was. I stumbled right into him.”

Enya would listen to all the details that Cyrus really couldn’t care less about. 

“So he's High Fae?” Enya asked her. 

“No,” Oriana answered. “Illyrian.”

“Illyrian,” Enya repeated, her eyes widening nearly comically. “He has wings .”

Oriana couldn’t hold back the laugh at that, because she had half expected that reaction though probably not for the reasons that one might think. 

“Oh yes, he has,” she agreed. Beautiful Wings at that. All of him was beautiful.  

“He can fly ,” Enya said wondrously and Oriana nodded. 

“He even took me flying with him,” she teased her sister. 

“I am so jealous,” Enya said with a sigh. “Does he have a brother I can borrow or something? Just for the flying?”

 “I’ll ask him,” Oriana volunteered and Enya just sighed once again, before shrewd eyes finally stared at the at the necklace that was still around her throat. 

“What about…” Enya started and Oriana interrupted her. 

“I am taking it off.”

At least she hoped she would. 

Oriana had a plan. 

She just hoped it would work. 

“You are?” Enya asked her, sounding surprised. 

Oriana just nodded. “Tonight.”

The faster she got it down, the quicker she was free of Wynstan and everything that marriage represented to her. 

And she didn’t want to wear the necklace anymore. 

She had taken notes after notes on it, written down the runic array she had used, and taken it apart…she would be able to replicate the protection she had on it. She was sure of that. 

Now she just needed to break it. 

“Why tonight?” Enya asked her quietly.

Of course, her sister was going to pick up on that. 

“Because nobody is going to be in the fire chamber when they are busy dancing,” Oriana answered honestly. 

“You want it to melt off you,” her sister responded, her voice flat. 

Oriana just shrugged. 

“I’ll sacrifice it. Return it to the mother,” she said softly. “It seems fair.”

And if the normal fire wouldn’t suffice…well, then she hoped that the eternal flame would be willing to lend a hand. 

“Why now?” 

“I waited for a century. I am not willing to wait any longer. ”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Her grandmother’s birthday celebration started with dinner and continued with dancing. 

Even Kiran came out of the forge at that, drinking too much sweet wine and having a grand old tie. 

And Oriana…well, she was happy that she got to dance. Even when the thoughts were crossing her mind of what she would be doing soon. As soon as the celebrations had started, when everybody was busy dancing…well. 

But right now she was enjoying herself. Right now, she was taking the opportunity to soak up the atmosphere and laugh when Toron twirled her around the floor. 

Or at least that had been the plan. 

But everybody knew what was said about best laid plans. 

She was twirled around by her brother, and then she suddenly wasn’t anymore, because the partners changed…and while it should have been Toron…well, Titus decided he should cut in. 

Which was just what Oriana needed. Not. 

Her former brother-in-law. He reminded her of Wynstan, a few inches taller, but the same dark hair, the same proud nose…

She could see her husband in his features, and somehow that was a specific kind of torture. 

“Oriana,” he greeted her, his voice cutting, even with just the simple word. 

“Titus,” she responded, forcing a smile on her face that hopefully looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. 

She was quite sure that she was failing. 

She tried to ignore the way his eyes trailed over her body, tried to ignore how the necklace heated in warning, and swallowed against it. 

She didn’t like this. Not at all. 

“You are still wearing it,” he said, his voice near mocking. 

“I am,” she agreed serenely. She was still wearing it. 

“You have been wearing it longer than the marriage was ever valid.” True. She was. “How does it feel to wear it when you are the one who killed it?”

Right.”

“How am I supposed to have killed him when it was his experiment?” she asked. 

She told herself that a lot over the years. It had been his experiment. He had been the one who had started it. 

She had just been…she had come in after it had already started. 

For years that’s what she had clung to. She had told herself that it was an accident. That Wynstan just hadn’t been careful enough. That it was a tragic accident and that if he had just been more careful, then it wouldn’t have needed to go down like that. 

And then…then she remembered every minute detail of what had gone down that day. 

 And she remembered…she remembered…she remembered how it should have killed her not him. How it had been supposed to kill her, not him. 

And how her own magic had responded, turning the flames away from herself and against him. 

His accident turned attempted murder, turned self-defence, turned…burning him to a crisp with all the might of magical fire that she had never pulled out of herself before…and hopefully never would again. 

“He made the mistake that cost his life. I was just caught in the crossfire.”

She said the words that she didn’t believe. The official version that people believed. 

“And you believe that?”” Titus hissed to her. 

She ignored that, ignored the stabbing pain somewhere in her chest region. It didn’t matter. 

“I believe that there is nothing I could have done differently,” she finally said, as she stepped back, as she finally could snatch back her hand from his grasp and get the hell away from him. 

She just knew that her eyes must be flaring, no longer the pitch black that she kept carefully pulled over them so that they didn’t terrify everybody that she met. 

The flames within her were flaring, licking out. 

Sometimes she could nearly feel it, the fire that she kept tightly leashed inside herself. 

Oh well, why not throw in some emotional turmoil when she was already at it? 

She shouldn’t have expected any differently. 

Sneaking out of the Grand Hall was easy, faeries too busy with the celebration to give her more than a second look. And even if they did, all they expected was for her to be tired and walk to her room and be done with it. 

She wasn’t. 

A part of her calmed as she walked further into the mountain. Down and down and down, right there into the middle, where the fire chamber resided. 

A circular room, deep into the mountains. And if one looked up when they stood inside it, one would be able to glimpse the night sky through the near tunnel-like opening at the top. 

The ground and walls were smooth through millennia of use, black and sooty. 

Opened the door, walked into the room, and closed it again. 

She was home. 

Regardless of where she lived, in the mountain or in Velaris, in her tiny apartment…there was one place that was always going to be her true home. 

And that were the flames flickering before her. 

Maybe it was because she had been born into their embrace. Maybe it was because like called to like and the fire within her recognised its kin. 

Maybe it was just her mind making it all up. 

But as she stood there, before the first ring of fire…she relaxed. 

It was the work of minutes as she pulled her dress over her head and left it carefully folded laying on one of the ledges in the wall, pulling off every bit of jewellery that she wore, the knives Azriel had given her…all of it. 

Until she was left in her wedding necklace and nothing else. 

She prodded off the shadow of her wrist. 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she promised them quietly when they seemed to cling to her. 

Mistress, what are you doing? they asked her, their many voices intertwined in one. 

“I am going to take off my necklace,” she explained. “And for that, I need to walk into the fire. I don’t want you to get hurt in the flames. They won’t do anything to me, but I don’t know how they’ll react to you.”

They listened to her, but they still seemed anxious as they skittered away. 

It was going to be fine. 

She had thought about it. Nothing should happen. The fire should melt off the necklace, the enchantment would break, and all would be well. 

Oriana stared into the shadows for just a moment, feeling deep inside herself for that glowing string of fate, tied around her rib. She pushed all the love she had for Azriel into it. 

And then she turned and walked into the fire. 

At first, nothing happened. 

The first circle wasn’t even knee high as she breached it, but it immediately roared to life as she stepped through the boundary. 

Nearly playfully, the flames flicked along her skin, their heat a balm to her that not a lot of things would be able to replicate. 

She stood there for just a moment, waiting for the necklace to heat up, for the metal to grow molten and bendy. 

The outermost ring was the one they used for their ceremonies. The flames had been used to close the necklace in the first place. As a child, she had been passed through them at the blessing ceremony that came after her birth. She had walked through them when she had bled for the first time and became a woman in the eyes of her people. 

And she had been born into these flames like not many were. Her mother had chosen to give birth here, after a difficult pregnancy, hoping that this would mean that her child would be blessed. 

Oriana often wondered if that was the reason why her powers were as strong as they were. 

The flames that had seen her first minutes on the earth spilt upwards. 

But still, the necklace didn’t budge. 

She reached up, feeling the necklace heat up against her skin and she hissed as she felt that the fire was magical in nature. 

She didn’t have much time. 

Normal fire couldn’t hurt her, could hurt no Tartera. But Magical Fire was another question entirely. 

She had no other choice. 

She had hoped that the first ring would be enough, but she should have known that it wasn’t. 

She pushed herself through the next ring, and could nearly feel how that fucking necklace was already lashing out at her, her own magic turning against herself. 

Oriana had been so fucking stupid and now she was paying the prize for it. 

The heat kicked up so high that it was nearly making her nauseous 

Still nothing. 

Magic swirled around her as she clenched her teeth, as she tried to ignore the heat and the pain and the fear that wanted to grip her as she breached the third circle. 

This was too much. She shouldn’t have done this. She knew that. 

The heat was too much, the magic growing stronger in every consecutive circle. 

One didn’t simply walk through these circles. 

They protected the eternal flame within them and they were going to kill her if they judged her purpose to be anything but pure. 

And to be honest, it wasn’t pure.  It was desperate. 

I am sorry. I am sorry, she chanted desperately in her mind, hoping that this would be enough. Just the third circle. That needed to be enough. 

I can’t wear it anymore. I was stupid, but I just wanted to be free. When I made it, I just wanted to protect myself. I just didn’t want to be in the same situation again. I didn’t want to be bartered off. I just wanted to be safe…

She felt more than heard the magical crack. 

she forced her eyes open, even when the heat and pain of the necklace burning against her throat, seemingly making it impossible to breathe forced her against the stone floor, the fires of the third circle still burning around her. 

The Eternal Flame lit before her, in the very centre of the rings. 

Every Year, when it was time, the oldest of their people sacrificed themselves for its continued revival. Walked through the rings and never came back. 

The flame brought them into their afterlife, and in return, the magic of the donors wrapped itself around the mountain and the Tartera. 

Purely Magical. Eternally old. 

If Oriana petitioned it and it found her lacking, it would kill her. Or it would kill her anyway. 

Sometimes, very rarely. The Eternal Flame gifted a piece of itself to make it possible to forge something from it. 

Never enough for more than a single thing. Never given to anybody more than once. 

And now…now there she was, on her knees in front of it, and the necklace was going to kill her soon if she didn’t…

I want to be with my mate. 

I just want to be with him. 

Please. Please. Please. 

Please take it from me so I can be free. Please. I just want to be with him. I just want to love him. To cherish him. To protect him. 

She had been born into these flames. 

And so she reached out to them. 

They rushed up and up and up, the heat too much. 

They enveloped her once again like a favoured child. 

She gasped, tipping forwards, feeling the heat rush through her, feeling the magic of it punching through her, painless and quickly, her own enchantments not a single match to the powers of eternity. 

It pushed through every cell of her being, her own power feeling like kindling for it. 

And still…she wasn’t scared. 

The eternal flame was nothing more than gentle lickings of warmth against her skin, a roaring inferno to anybody else, white and blue as it took from her and melted away her necklace like it had never been there. 

She swore she could feel amusement coming from it as it cradled her close. 

“You are all my children after all, Little Flame.” the flame whispered to her and Oriana wished she could respond, but she couldn’t. “Love him. Cherish him. Protect him.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[yanderes-galore]

Aight, just remembered MK is on the list! Shang Tsung HCS? I don't you did those before. -🐈 anon

Yeah, sure! Focusing mostly on MK1 but I kept it pretty general. This is just me rambling some ideas for the most part.

General Yandere Shang Tsung Thoughts/Concept

(Mostly focusing on MK1)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Deception, Violence, Murder, Shape-shifting, Stalking, Possessive behavior, Darling has trust issues now, Slight sadism, Forced relationship.

Shang Tsung is cunning and manipulative.

He would mess with your mind if it meant he got what he wants.

It's easy to deceive people when it comes to him.

All it takes is a silver tongue and some magic.

I feel what makes Shang Tsung a dangerous yandere is the fact he messes with your mind.

He is capable of shape-shifting magic.

If Shang Tsung found an interest in you he could easily slip into your life.

Think about it, if he felt you're worth it to pursue, he could disguise himself as a friend of yours.

Or if you already had a partner? He'll just kill them and assume their place.

If you know nothing about him he can probably wrap you up in a deal/plan of it by just using his charisma.

Shang Tsung is a greedy man, completely capable of using manipulation to get what he wants.

Usually he cares for no one but himself.

Although he appears caring he usually wants something in return.

As stated before, what makes him bad is the ability to shape-shift.

Shang Tsung would feel impossible to get away from.

You'd have no one you could trust.

Who knows, the person you run to for help may just be him.

Oh, don't fret... he'll greet you with open arms again.

He knows you can't leave him even if you wanted to.

Which is why I feel he wouldn't bother with kidnapping at first.

He can teleport and change his appearance, it's easy to keep tabs on you.

He'll change his appearance just to follow you around and watch you.

If he senses you're looking for help he'll be sure whoever approaches you is executed.

Shang Tsung may be the jealous type, but he gets rid of issues before they appear.

Somehow he always knows who you talked to, what you did, and where you went.

No doubt due to his magic... and the minions that work under him.

Shang Tsung tries to tell you that you'll have nothing to worry about if you just accept him.

Yet, obviously, you do have something to worry about.

It's him.

After all, Shang Tsung is the person who has killed families

No doubt including yours once he infiltrates your life.

If he gets tired of having to watch you then he'll teleport you into a cell.

Not just any cell... one that shows you're his.

Shang Tsung isn't fully genuine with his affection.

He's oddly teasing with it, probably pulling you into his lap to treat you like a lapdog.

Shang Tsung doesn't expect you to trust him or even love him at first.

After all, pretending to be your lover/friend was such a nasty trick.

He does, however, expect you to know that in the end you are his.

He already claims your soul in a way.

Maybe he'll even keep a piece of it just to have you to himself.

He'll find it cute that you hate him, after all... doesn't everyone?

You are not the first to be deceived by him.

You will certainly not be the last.

The only difference is you're the only one he's wanted to have any sort of relationship with.

In all honesty you are here for him to play with.

It just fills him with pride that he's managed to trick you into being his partner.

In a way, maybe he does love you.

In his own twisted way he feels he adores you each time he kisses and holds you.

But it's hard to tell if that's all a lie when it comes to him.

Maybe Shang Tsung does feel genuine love for you... to the point he'll murder those around you to fuel his obsession...

Or maybe that's just another trick he tells you... while he just means to keep you as a precious living doll.

[nocreativityfornames]

The timing and occasion on which MC made the pacts with Lucifer and Belphegor should've been switched and here's why:

SPOILERS FROM LESSON 16 TO 20-14!!

I don't know if anyone has ever posted something similar to this but it's something I've been thinking about it for a while. I've never quite liked the way these two pacts were formed and to me, they were both timed weirdly and overall had little to no weight on the story, which sort of irritates me in a way.

I think our pact with Lucifer should've taken place at the party where MC was celebrated instead of the end of the season, it would've been much more meaningful that way and left way more impact than the disaster of a scene that lesson 20-14 was in my opinion. Because here's the thing:

Lucifer is the Avatar of Pride, one of the most powerful beings in all three realms, someone who's led an entire army through war and was maybe the first of his kind to rebel against its own creator. It's not easy to gain his respect, much less his trust, so for him to put his pride aside and offer a human the power to control his entire being, it's much more than a simple "possessive and horny confession", t's him placing his ultimate trust in someone, it's him showing just how much he's grown to care for you.

Because you deserve it. You were the human who put his dear family back together, who willingly ran head first into danger more than once just for the sake of protecting his brothers, who gave your life trying to help fix what he broke. You were much more than a simple exchange student, you were someone he had slowly come to cherish, who so gradually approached his heart that he didn't even notice you come in and before he knew it, all the irritation and distrust he felt towards you had turned into love and admiration. You were a precious presence in his life that he felt the need to protect but failed to do so.

So Lucifer offering to make a pact with you just shortly after all you had gone through was a way to let you know just how immensely grateful he was for all you had done for him and his family, to show you that you had not only earned his respect and trust but also his love. It was an apology for every time he had put you in harm's way and for not being there for you when you needed him the most. Lucifer offering you a pact it's him letting you know that he will never ever let anyone hurt you again and that he'll always be there for you from now on, it's him saying that you can lean on him as much as you need because you're now part of his family — the one thing he puts above all others and will do anything for.

Lucifer asking to make a pact with you it's him showing you mean the world to him while having no qualms about letting the whole three realms know you were remarkable enough to make the prideful Morning Star let go of his sin and give you all of him.

-

Now, let's talk about Belphegor. As I've seen many point out, the reaction to MC's death after lesson 16 as whole was terrible. There was barely any acknowledgment of what happened, no apology coming from Belphegor, and the weirdest thing of all: MC was not only completely okay with being close to Belphegor but also the only one trying to help him when all the brothers were more than rightfully being awkward around him. So let's just put it this way: the whole situation was beyond bizarre and we all like to pretend it wasn't canon.

But back to the matter at hand: Canonically, MC's pact with Belphegor is formed at Diavolo's birthday party. After he disappears from the main hall where everyone is and MC goes to find him on their own. That itself already seems wrong, I mean, I don't know about you personally but if I had just been murdered by someone a few days/weeks ago, I definitely wouldn't want to leave the side of those I'm safe with to go find that person alone. But Canon!MC is very dumb and we can't do anything about it so our only choice is to follow him.

We are also not given the choice to refuse the pact when it's proposed nor MC has the chance to speak a word about it. Now the way I see this, it's a clear sign that MC doesn't want a pact with him. They are scared and pressured into making a pact with Belphegor because they're not sure what could happen if they refused. Because then again, this is the guy that murdered them not that long ago and laughed at their dead body like he was having the time of his life. And the last time MC refused to make a pact didn't exactly go well either, with Satan shoving them into a bookshelf and threatening the hell out of them.

And if Satan reacted like that, imagine Belphegor. And there was no one around either, Canon!MC had made the stupid decision to go find Belphegor on their own and had no one to protect them at the moment. So they have no choice, they are frozen with fear and are ""forced"" to make a pact with him even though they dread the idea. It's just awful and I hate that scene so much I can't even put it into words.

MC's pact with Belphegor shouldn't have been formed so early. They should've had the time to heal from all the trauma, time to distance themselves from Belphegor, and to process everything they had been through. And then only later they would slowly start to warm up to him again, after they know for a fact he's truly sorry for what he did and deeply regrets it. After they are ready to face him.

And for Belphegor's pact with MC to be formed on their last day in the Devildom, it would've simply been beautiful. Because then Belphegor would've also had the time to learn to appreciate MC, to realize how special they truly were, for what he did to become one of the biggest regrets he's ever carried. Belphegor would've had the time to see right in front of him how you treated those you had a pact with, time to realize that to you, a pact wasn't about gaining power and status, but about forming a deeper connection with someone.

The pacts you shared were proof of your strong bond with his brothers and all the love you had for them. And honestly, it broke his heart to be the only one in the family who didn't have that kind of connection with you. But he wouldn't dare ask for it, he couldn't ask for it. He didn't have the right, not after what he did to you that day. You were nice enough to forgive him, to treat him with kindness when all he deserved was your hate and loathing. He couldn't ask for more, no matter much he wished to.

So when you come around and ask him for a pact on your last night in the Devildom, he couldn't have felt happier. To know that you had come to trust him like that again even after all he did, for you to love him enough to want his pact mark on you for the rest of your life, it felt nothing short of incredible. He wondered what he had done to deserve you, because someone as caring and sweet as you should have no business staying close to someone as rotten as him. But he gladly accepts the pact after you confirm to him that's truly what you want. Belphegor then hugs you as tight as he can, sobbing in your embrace as he is filled with both the happiness of your newly formed pact and the sadness that you have to leave.

MC being the one to ask for a pact with Belphegor shows that they've come to trust him just as much as his brothers. And the pact itself is a sign that they've both come to overcome their past traumas and now feel more than comfortable with each other. It's proof of the strong and unbreakable bond they have.

[lambilegs]

i'm interested in knowing what you think lee's relationship with dale is/was like. i'll be honest i'm not a huge fanfic reader, so i don't know if you've touched on that in anything you've written, so i apologize!

OH THIS IS SO INTERESTING, I LOVE! thank you so much for this ask!! and omg, no apologies needed hehe!! <3

(cw for: mentions of blood, the murders, trauma)

so, considering the scene we see of lee visiting her mom, I'm assuming that growing up, lee had several moments of curiosity/suspicion towards her basement, and what lurked within, but due to the doll's powers and satan's influence in shifting her memory, I feel like this curiosity would fade after a few moments and go forgotten. so, for most of lee's life, dale's presence was felt sporadically, and for a few moments, before drifting to somewhere in the back of her mind.

I think once she becomes more familiar with kobble's crimes, and how this directly impacted her family, she feels a range of intense emotions. for one, rage. we see in the interrogation scene that she's angry at the stuff he's done to these families (I think it's one of the only scenes we actually see her angry in), and that's partially what drives her seeking of justice. she wants to bring light to these cases, to do something right for these families who were subjected to such horrifying fates, and she wants the person who happily fostered and enabled such crimes to be locked up. for her own conscience, for the families, for justice.

she feels disgusted with him. like, I cannot get over the expression on her face after he says how his arrival to her house made him realize just how "immaculate" his work is. he's so happy, joyous and proud of his work. he truly thinks he's doing something miraculous, something that ironically enough, is like a blessing to this world. and lee hates it. she can't imagine how someone takes such pleasure and satisfaction in the screams, the terror. and she can barely stomach it.

like nic said, kobble actually admires lee. lee, the angel whose last name calls to hear the angels sing, who chose a life of ensuring justice prevails, who stands upon the sand of the sea, watching the beast arise in front of her in the confines of the interrogation room. to him, lee is the little girl who got to grow up, whose blossoming life earned him a helper in his work for satan and years of doing the work he feels such joy for. her life is precious to him the way a daughter's life is precious to her father. he carries the symbol of her birth, the capricorn sign, in his car. he carries an ironic sort of pride for her, and her stubborn determination, in his eyes.

but, lee? she fears him. the horrors of his crimes, and the delight he takes in them, shakes her up. before meeting him, he was just a killer who was far away, someone she could mentally detach herself from. but, then, she discovers that she was once a target, that her mother once feared him, and suddenly, it's personal. it's close. it could've been her. then, he's in the bureau, asking for her, wanting to see her specifically. there's a link between them that she can't remember, and lee's mind can't handle such a gap in memory and in knowledge. the uncertainty spikes her panic, and the reality of who he is, what he is, causes her more anxiety than she can let on. I think even if he wasn't personally tied to her, she'd fear him. but, the discovery of a personal history with him raises that fear, and with it, is a bolt of protectiveness for her mom. her mom who never told her about this tall and pale stranger who visited them.

I think after the events of longlegs, she's haunted by him. like I said before, he's like a father figure. he watched her grow up, he's been there with her for every milestone. and she never knew it when it happened -- and only knows it now, when he's dead and her entire life has crumbled. and honestly, I think it'd disturb her and gnaw at her mind for years to come. that the father role she always thought was empty in her house actually had been fulfilled, but she was the only one who didn't know. this stranger had grown up seeing her, living in her home, and along with her mom, performing horrible, nasty crimes, then simply continuing to reside under the same roof as her. it'd make her sick and haunted just how in the dark she was. how kobble was the one living in the basement, yet she was the one completely locked away from the truth in her own home, with her own mom. that someone was there, for her entire life there, watching her, living with her, knowing her, and she had no idea.

she'd feel immense hatred and devastation towards him for all he did to her mom. her mom, who had just wanted to protect lee but got too sucked in, who lee begged and pleaded to return to her and just be her mother again. she'd have a vile, sour, nasty hatred for kobble, and what he did to her mom, the ways in which he completely destroyed the relationship she had with her mom, the one constant since her birth. how he's one of the main reasons she had been driven away from home and had hated returning. she'd hate him for ruining her life, and she'd mourn what could've been if he had never entered their home. I think for a long time, she'd be haunted by nightmares of what could've been with her and her mom had kobble never entered her life.

she wishes she could sever the tie to him, the one that forms and tightens as soon as the doll is shot and all of the memories of him in her home, in her life, return to the surface. she wish she could rip the memories of him out of her mind, she wishes she could destroy this link she feels to him. but, she can't. because he forced his way in, and overstayed his welcome, and she grew up with him. and she feels a sort of self-loathing for having this sense of -- not love, not affection -- familiarity with him. like, a relative who you don't like, but know you're tied to through the blood, nonetheless. and in a way, she is, isn't she? her blood was spared, and that set their bond in stone.

[hiemaldesirae]

Tis Arrax,:3 and Fallen Angel Vox with Human Alastor (then eventually Radio demon Alastor) Anyone?

A Vox who is the baby brother to Lucifer, who looks up to him, who follows Lucifer anywhere. Who joins in on his rebellion, and--because he's so young, both Lucifer and Lilith curl around him and protect him during the Fall. Saving most of his wings from damage. They're still a little scorched, but he can still fly like Lucifer and the dark blue is visible. Vox, since he was Lucifer's younger brother keeps his human shape unlike the Sins. He becomes a Prince of Hell, but usually spends his time on earth, enticing humans.

That's how he meets Alastor--or should I say, that's how Alastor attempts to kill him. He immediately thinks this murderous human is hilarious-he takes the knife out of his chest, wings unfolding out of his back and draws Alastor close, a purr in his throat.

"Oh, Darling aren't you just delicious?" He murmurs, gently cradling Alastor's chin. Wing cocooning them Intimately. "Very possessive aren't you? I'm your muse, and no one else could have me hmm? That's why you had to kill me, precious?" Vox croons, demonic form fully showing, tail wrapping possessively around Alastor's thigh. "A gift, for when you enter my brother's kingdom--power, form your muse." He murmurs, mouth crashing down onto Alastor's tongue demanding entrance, the taste of his own blood thick as he entered his human's mouth. (A gift without taking Alastor's soul :3)

Laughing, he broke away as Alastor greedily swallowed his blood, and he flapped his wings, vanishing into the night.

Alastor of course never forgets his muse. Never forgets how powerful his muse WAS that night, or how safe Vox made him feel, wrapped in his wings (not that he'd ever tell anyone) and when he drops into hell...well, he is astonishingly powerful and becomes an overlord overnight, power no one's seen before at his fingertips.

Of course, he doesn't see is precious muse again until Charlie Morningstar opens her hotel (which he goes to help only for the chance to see more of the royal family.)

And who should be helping dear sweet Charlie on behalf of her father because he's in trouble for killing some important human too early? Why, her beloved uncle and Prince of Hell, Vox.

Alastor is thrilled. His muse, his beloved, his soon to be mate is here! Yes they're stuck doing this dumb redemption thing but they're together! Maybe Vox will let him curl up in his wings....and get a taste of his blood again. (But mostly he wants to feel safe, just wants to feel those wings around him again...)

WOOOO (very excited clapping) YES i love fallen angel aus... ive always wanted to do a fallen angel vox au but this one is the only one thats spoken to me so far LMFAO

the idea of alastor joining up the hazbin hotels efforts to rehabilitate sinners SOLELY because he wanted another chance to see the pretty (fallen) angel he tried to kill all those years ago in life is so fucking funny to me. like yeah okay go off boyfailure try and get your cognitohazard wife

also i do want to ask questions for this. obviously because i have nothing in my head ever and i hardly understand asks when i first read them through LMFAO. but uh, as a prince of hell would vox be considered like one of the sins??? in which case would we have... 8 sins? if so... i wanted to mention vainglory/vanity, which is a historical sin no longer used in reference when it comes to the cardinal sins. i think given the fact that it's now encompassed into pride as a sin works for vox, who followed lucifers guide and would thus want to follow even in his brothers footsteps when it came to his ascension (decension?) as a sin. and of course, the way that he behaves with alastor is... well. vain as fuck but you know what my wife deserves it

also. sighs and hangs my head. even though i have like 19 wips to do would you let me try and write this one too,..... (making puppy eyes at you)

[trashpanda66]

OH MY FUCKING GOD I HAD A BRAiN BABY

(please take this with a grain of salt. I'm using my own experiences with visual and auditory hallucinations for this little silly thingy.)

Biscuit Oliva with an adopted child who has visual and auditory hallucinations and how he helps them through it!

First of all, Oliva loves his baby more than life itself. There isn't a single damn thing in this world that he wouldn't do for his sweet little Angel, and that includes things that sometimes make him feel a little bit silly.

So when his sweet baby comes running up to him with tears in their eyes, tugging at his pant leg while trying to climb up into his safe and strong grip, he stops everything he's doing and scoops his precious child up into his arms. He gives them a few gentle little bounces in his arms, pressing his lips against their forehead before quietly asking what's got them so worked up. Still crying, they tell him that there's a mean man in their room and he keeps telling them to do bad things. Oliva instantly switches to kill mode as he puts his child on the ground. It doesn't matter who this man is now, cus he's going to be dead within the next 10 seconds. Oliva goes charging into his kid's room, fists up and ready to murder for the sake of his precious baby, when he freezes.

There's no one in there.

He looks everywhere. Under the bed, in the closet, around the door, everywhere. There's absolutely no sign of anyone having broken in, and his angel knows better than to let anyone come in to his lavish cell without his express permission, plus there aren't that many people out there who are stupid enough to go after Oliva's sweet little angel. With his nerves still frazzled, he walks back out of his baby's room and heads back to where he left them. As soon as they see him, their face lights up and they come running over to him, hugging his massive legs and chattering about how Papa is their hero! The positive attention makes Oliva smile and relax a tiny bit, only for the smile to turn back into a frown as he thinks on what to do. He picks his baby up and holds them in his arms again, giving them a comforting smile as he talks to them about what was going on.

"Angel, Papa went and checked your room. I didn't find anyone in there." His soft heart breaks at the sight of fear filling his kid's eyes again.

"I think it's okay for you to go back to your room, sweetie. I'll stay with you if you want me to." His warm voice brings a bit of comfort to his child, who agrees to go back to their room as long as their Papa is there with them. Oliva's heart always flutters with love and pride whenever his little angel calls him Papa, making his insecurities about his parenting abilities almost disappear instantly every time. As the pair arrive back to the kid's room, Oliva swings open the door, a smile on his face, only for his precious angel to tense up in his arms and start crying all over again. Their eyes are fixed on the far corner of the room as their tiny hands grip onto Oliva's shirt, their entire body shaking as they try to keep quiet. Oliva tries to comfort his baby, rubbing their back softly as he tries to coo calming words to them, but they shush him. After a few tense seconds, his baby finally whispers to him that the mean man in right there in the corner and he's threatening to hurt them if they don't do bad things. Finally, it clicks in Oliva's head. He steels his gaze, staring right into the empty corner as he gently puts his kid back onto the ground. Oliva doesn't care whether this thing is real or not, it fucked with the wrong family today. In a stern and authoritative voice, Oliva demands that the mean man leave his baby's room this instant, causing himself to feel a tad bit silly yelling into an empty corner. But he knows that even if what his baby is seeing isn't real, it feels real to them and Oliva will be damned if he doesn't protect his little angel from everything that scares them, even if what's scaring them is in their mind. He looks to his baby, checking to see if he's doing the right thing, only for them to whisper out that the mean man is refusing to leave. He watches as their expression changes from fear to terror as their eyes dart from the corner, as if the figure is rapidly approaching him! Oliva turns back around, balling his hand up into a fist before delivering a powerful punch to the air. He feels silly, but the results don't lie. He watches as his angel's expression changes from horror to amazement. Looks like Oliva's hit landed. He once again demands that the figure he can't see leave immediately and never return again. He looks on as his baby's eyes follow a trail from the corner, along the wall, and finally out the bedroom door.

Oliva smiles as his little angel finally relaxes, their fear completely dissipating as they make their way back over to Oliva. He picks them up off the ground, hugging them close as he comforts them. At the sight of his completely relaxed and happy child, Oliva knows that he did the right thing, smiling to himself as they begin to talk to him about a drawing they want to make.

Oliva doesn't care how silly he looks, he'll always make sure to protect his baby.

[lets-try-some-writing]

I headcannon that Starscream (and probably other Decepticons) are touch starved, and deserves to be treated nicely for once. You mentioned in another post that Starscream missed his trine, and I agree whole heartedly. Now, if Starscream did join the Autobots and got to a healthier environment, how’d you think he’d adjust? Who would he open up to about his trine? (Sorry, this was long)

Hmmm, an interesting question. One which I will gladly expand on and answer to the best of my ability. (Oh and don't worry about your request being long, I don't mind!)

A Long Awaited Defection

After having finally had it with Megatron's consistent failures as a leader and his dark energon induced madness, Starscream would finally take the leap of faith he had been teetering on the edge of making for some time. After removing his Decepticon badge, Starscream would take a few precious belongings and some Decepticon data before fleeing the nemesis. He would then contact the Autobots using his stolen data as incentive.

It would be a tense discussion to say the least, that with Starscream's many crimes and whatnot. However Optimus has always been the forgiving sort and knows the darkness that lives within Megatron. He would, after some questioning, accept Starscream into their ranks under the condition that he be supervised and have his wings bound for a trail period. The rest of the team, especially Arcee, would not be fond of this choice, but Optimus knows a hurt mech when he sees one, and he would be unwilling to leave Starscream to suffer under Megatron.

Starscream would be brought back to base and have his wings bound before being handed off to the bot least likely to murder him in recharge. For his own safety, Starscream's assigned partner would be Bumblebee as the scout tends to more often than not match his Sire in mentality. Starscream would share quarters with Bumblebee and do basically everything with the scout except go on missions. On the days where Bumblebee is sent out on a mission, Starscream's guardianship would fall to either Optimus, or if he is not available, Ratchet.

Given enough time, some interesting relationships would form.

Starscream's Integration

It is not easy for Starscream to get settled with the Autobots. He has spent far too long in Decepticon society where power is key and any and all weaknesses are exploited ruthlessly. Despite the decision to join them being his choice, Starscream is downright awful to be around for the first few weeks as he figures out how the Autobots work. Bumblebee would try to be kind when possible but end up treating Starscream like a stray cat for the most part. He may not be his Sire, but he most certainly inherited the ability to sense small unattended things with a pulse that need love and protection.

Eventually Starscream would begin to leave his space and engage with others around base. It would be small at first, the seeker only ever muttering a suggestion or snarky comment before scurrying away in fear of punishment. But as he grows more comfortable, his coding would come to life again after millennia of being dormant and demand he search for family and companionship. This would lead him to express himself more and begin the natural process of integrating into what his coding recognizes as his new flock.

In light of this, despite his best efforts to be friendly in his own prideful way, his relationship with Arcee and Bulkhead would be turbulent at the best of times, even in the far future. However they have an unspoken agreement of sorts. They protect each other and work together when required, perhaps even socializing when a mutual friend is present, but other than that they have no ties. This is perfectly acceptable to both parties as neither have any desire to associate with the other.

Wheeljack would be pretty chill with Starscream's presence, although it would take a while for Starscream to warm up to the wrecker. After a while they would even develop a friendship around their shared love of science. Starscream supplying Wheeljack with the more intricate knowledge needed to create more complex things and Wheeljack doing most of the heavy lifting. Perhaps their friendship is not the most emotionally bonding, but Starscream and Wheeljack have a friendship unique to them. They are not close enough in Starscream's mind to be kin, but they have enough compatibility between them to have Starscream consider the wreaker a wing-mate, that is if the grounder could fly.

Ultra Magnus would be highly distrustful of Starscream and the seeker would steer clear of him for a long time due to how the commanders gaze reminds him of Megatron. However after Starscream is fully accepted into the Autobots and proves his worth in battle and assisting Ratchet in his scientific endeavors, Ultra Magnus's opinion of him would grow. Eventually they would bond over battle tactics and strategy, together spending long nights working out plans and dealing with as much work as they can before their workaholic Prime takes over. They would also find themselves bonding over the shared experience of trying to keep the team in order and help steer Optimus away from self sacrifice when not necessary. Their regular ritual is to drink a cube of stimulant laced energon together each morning and checking in on the other before going about their business. While also not a very emotionally invested relationship, their shared purpose binds them together in a form of brotherhood, as such Ultra Magnus is also a wing-mate in Starscream's mind.

Smokescreen would be one of the hardest for Starscream to warm up to, and vice versa. The young elite guardsman would struggle greatly trying to get used to having one of Megatron's old lieutenants hanging around. But after saving each other in a few fights and finding that they work well together, Smokescreen would begin to look up the the seeker. In return Starscream would begin to view Smokescreen as a fledgling under his supervision and take up the role of a mentor, albeit a seemingly very disinterested one. Not that he will ever admit it, but he is very proud of his grounder apprentice. The rookie does well in adapting Starscream's teachings and making them apply to his own fighting style. Not only that, but Smokescreen genuinely is interested in the stories that Starscream has to tell of Vos and flight frame culture as a whole. While there is a very low chance Starscream will ever tell his apprentice, he is very fond of him and would fight just as fiercely as Optimus to protect the youngling should the need arise.

As for Starscream and Bumblebee, their relationship started off a little rocky. Bumblebee was not fond of having to partner with Starscream and the feeling was mutual. However being the sparkling of Optimus and therefore having inherited many of his Sire's traits, Bumblebee was persistent in trying to build up a friendship with the seeker after the initial awkwardness passed. And despite Bumblebee's youth in comparison to Starscream, it did not end up taking long for them to bond. Bumblebee took the time to introduce Starscream to the Autobot lifestyle and their way of life, even going so far as to calm him whenever he woke from recharge in terror. While it did take a bit for Starscream to swallow the pride he had built to protect himself while with the Decepticons, he did eventually accept Bumblebee's kindness and even return it with some of his own.

After having lived with the Autobots for some time and having fully integrated into their team, Starscream is possessive and will gladly protect his yellow wing-mate at all costs. He regularly brings Bumblebee little things and checks up on him to make sure he is alright. He has taken up a role as a secondary caretaker for the scout when Optimus is unavailable while also simultaneously being a brotherly character. He will go above and beyond to take care of Bumblebee but will always try to remain aloof and appear uncaring. Of course Bumblebee has learned to see past this, but he kindly says nothing about it and accepts the affection when he receives it. The fact that Starscream is willing to lounge around with his wings spread while around him is proof of the seeker's trust.

Then there is Ratchet. Their relationship was strictly professional at first, but after the medic found Starscream having a bad panic attack in a storage closet things changed between them. For a time Starscream refused any and all attempts the medic made to help him deal with his mental issues. But eventually after a particularly bad nightmare Starscream broke down and spilled everything to Ratchet. Everything from his grief at the loss of his trine to the anger he feels towards the Decepticons was laid bare. And surprisingly, Ratchet understood and put aside past grievances to comfort the seeker. Since then they have been close, their relationship not needing words or being particularly public. Instead Starscream comes to Ratchet whenever he is having a bad day and they will drink some energon and do some chores around base. Sometimes they discuss Starscream's problems and other times they banter back and forth. For whatever reason Starscream feels incredibly safe around the Autobot medic and has come to see him as a protector, someone akin to a guardian. Ratchet is kind enough to not comment when Starscream cuddles up beside him or follows him around like a lost sparkling, he knows the seeker needs it.

And lastly there is Optimus, the bot who Starscream had the easiest and also the most difficult time adjusting to. The Prime's size was rather intimidating for the first few weeks, as was the knowledge that the Prime had torn mechs apart in battle before. However over time and after coming to see the kind spark and soft voice behind the stoic mask Optimus usually wears, Starscream attached himself to the Prime quickly. It was just his coding at first, it urged him to seek guidance and protection from the leader of the flock. But eventually he began seeking out the Prime for others reasons, in the beginning mainly just to feel the calming waves his field emitted. And later he sought out Optimus for true companionship, finding that they had a great deal in common and got along well bonding over dealing with the younglings and the horrors of war. Starscream couldn't explain it if he wanted to, the Prime just had an indescribable draw, one which had little difficulty pulling Starscream in. And before the seeker realized it he found himself listening to the Prime's stories and bringing him energon when he worked late at night.

Being the possessive creature that he is, Starscream lurks in the rafters and other high places to observe Optimus and to keep an optic out for potential danger toward him. No one touches his kin, especially not his flock leader and Prime. There have been several occasions where Starscream has leapt from the rafters to tackle a bot who looked a little too suspicious, even screeching at them and flaring his plating to ward them off before coming to his senses. He also hovers around Optimus and assists in his work as a cover for what he truly is doing which is taking the opportunity to be clingy. Often he hangs off Optimus's back and leans up against him when they are together as he just wants to feel the protective presence of another. In return Optimus will sometimes massage Starscream's wings, working out dents and easing tight cabling for him. It is something the former Decepticon greatly appreciates and never intends to alert Optimus to the cultural significance of. Only close kin care for each other in the way the Prime cares for him, and Starscream happily allows himself to relish in the affection from his unofficial family and flock.

Extra

Being in a healthy environment made Starscream healthier as well. His armor is bulkier and is more colorful, he is less aggressive, prideful, and arrogant. He is overall a happier bot and far more willing to express himself and speak his mind without fear.

Megatron threw a tantrum the moment he caught sight of Starscream gracefully flying through the air brandishing his bright new Autobot insignia while bombing Decepticon forces. The warlord nearly burst a wire upon receiving a well earned middle finger and a shot to the chassis from his old air commander.

Seeing their old commander so happy and doing so well on the opposing side, several Vehicon squads would also abandon ship in favor of trying their luck at becoming Autobots as well. If successful then the Autobots would then be forced to get a larger base...

[cottagehorror-lesbians-stuff]

how the image of abel and cain was used to portray lee dong-sik and lee yu-yeon

a not so short draft of an essay

ricardo j. quinones

1- abel and cain

not everyone is familiar with biblical stories (and it's normal) so here is their story as you can find it in some versions of the genesis, further analyses will be cited as i go:

wikipedia, genesis 4:1-18

2- lee dong-sik and lee yu-yeon

. since they are twins, their link to one another is reinforced. where age and gender could semiotically separate them, the fact that they are twins means that they are half each other's whole person. it is of course not true when you apply it to a realistic dimension. but on a symbolic level, they are doubles and they do reflect each other.

. lee yu-yeon was chosen to be the conventionally successful one, leading a good christian life, to whom praise and opportunities were given due to her good temperament. arguably it was subjective.

. lee dong-sik was the 'hopeless' child, constantly compared to his alter-ego. but it does not always seem fair or justified.

. however, the twins did not apply society's judgement to one another. lee dong-sik did not resent lee yu-yeon for being well-considered. lee yu-yeon did not resent lee dong-sik for not being as successful and hard-working as her. they cared for each other, and did not let external factors tear them apart or create jealousy and dissensions between them. if they ever argued, i best believe it most likely had nothing to do with the values of society or of their religious community, but just brother-sister shenanigans.

3- lee dong-sik as cain and lee yu-yeon as abel

. lee yu-yeon and abel are symbolically the first murder victims, both in the bible and in the context of the show. lee yu-yeon starts the storyline.s that we are following, even though previous crimes had been committed. you can see my post on lee yu-yeon here, where i mention it separately. on top of this, ricardo j. quinones mentions abel as such:

and indeed lee yu-yeon is the missing piece in solving the crimes in manyang. she is also the christlike figure of innocence who receives the most compassion due to her integration in society's conventions.

. lee yu-yeon and abel are both favored by higher authorities, be it by god in the bible, or by adults, society, and religious community in beyond evil. both in the bible and in beyond evil, this preference proves to be arbitrary, difficult to substantially back up, and unfair. even perhaps not willed by the concerned protagonists. this preference is also the reason why their deaths become so pivotal in each story.

. lee dong-sik in parallel is not cain. but he is turned into cain by figures of authority. he is framed, and most importantly, rendered responsible for his sister's disappearance. if we refer to the wikipedia passage of the genesis i included, it is textually visible that both lee dong-sik and cain reject at first the responsibility for their sibling's disappearance. only, one is being honest, and the other deceptive. cain's story was the easiest narrative to apply to lee dong-sik: the jealous, treacherous brother who stole a precious life because of a wounded pride. and bodies were found in a field where lee dong-sik's guitar pick was once planted, echoing to the first crime in the bible, and its perpetrator.

. arguably, lee yu-yeon's disappearance and the accusations against lee dong-sik echo to the cain-abel story, as ricardo j. quinones puts it:

the twins' story marks the shift between what manyang could have been before the murders and what it became, a shift in its dynamic, the end of a way of life. paralleling the cain-abel story and lee dong-sik - lee yu-yeon's is also useful in the exploration of family dynamics, and how preferences between siblings can prove detrimental.

. since the unconscious of manyang perceives lee dong-sik as the bearer of cain's appearance, he receives equal punishment, although he is in fact innocent. he is cursed with being a wanderer. and with that: an untouchable wanderer, so that his punishment is even greater than just being an outcast. he is unpunishable for a crime he is believed to have committed, but he is forever judged poorly by his peers. he is not sent to prison, but he never reintegrates society per se.

ernesto livorni points out cain's condition as follows:

. we can also take quite literally the fact that god curses cain with never being able to cultivate the soil again. lee dong-sik is left to hope for lee yu-yeon fo twenty years, unable to find any traces of her wherever he is looking. and his endless quest takes a major part of his life away from him, forever. he is left living on nothing, always seeking what he cannot find.

4- some other thoughts

. now, that was the most obvious links that came to my mind. but the show in itself insists on deconstructing the cain narrative built around lee dong-sik. and to do so, as aforementioned, they portray the twins' relation as bulletproof to society's imposed rhetoric on their dynamics.

they loved each other, and supported each other. there was no jealousy, no resentment, no competition. love is the final answer provided by the writers of the show to end dissensions, or to cope with them within communities.

. in parallel, lee dong-sik was able to break away from his curse when he could expose the truth and find lee yu-yeon. he was also able to receive punishment for his misdeeds, and able to clear his name, to find a new sense of community.

. lee yu-yeon died in a field, yes, but her body was trapped in the wall of her house. this also breaks away from abel and cain's narrative: the evil was not her brother. it was something else. the town's people were wrong in assuming lee dong-sik could do something like this to his own sister. not being able to find her body for so long was lee dong-sik's curse and redemption. he both suffered from a lack of closure, and then gained a definite means to prove that he was innocent.

. i'd like to conclude my brief analysis with once again a quote from ricardo j. quinones, which i think sums up well the importance of how the cain-abel story was used in the context of beyond evil:

[ineffectualdemon]

When I talk about being a chaotic dirt gremlin and "little rat man" and "trash gremlin" and things I need you to understand that this is not equating masculinity or my genderqueerness with filth or grossness

This is an ideological push back against the purity ideal that was placed ON me growing up in the Cultural Christianity I grew up in

It's about letting myself be messy and ugly and dirty and unkempt and freedom

The character that best embodies this feeling I'm latching onto is actually a woman. Bart from Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (yes I know the show runner wasn't great but that not the point rn)

Bart is a holistic assassin. She kills people

She is filthy, carefree, and loves her job

I don't want to murder people but I want her inability to give a single fuck what anyone thinks

I love that she's dirty and unkempt and doesn't care

I grew up being taught lessons about my virginity needed to be locked away for my future husband

That I needed to stay nice in pretty clothes

That I needed to be the Good One who didn't cause any problems

Its this need to live up to some feminine ideal of "girls don't fart" kind of perfection packaged in with family trauma of having to be the person who never caused an issue and only being able to accomplish that if I made myself so small and quiet no one ever saw me at all

Even after I escaped that arena I was then in pagan circles where I was told about the "divine feminine" and how menstruating was divine and perfect thing and women were all beautiful and precious

I didn't want to be this perfect clean precious thing

I wanted to be human

And it's not as easy as people think on the other side of the street

I tried masculinity on many times growing up and as an adult even if I didn't know I was doing it. Femininity as it was sold to me didn't fit right and so when I couldn't take it anymore I fled to masculinity

And there were spaces I was welcomed into but it was also performative. There was a need to never appear weak or imperfect in a different way. You needed to be a guy in the right way. You could sleep around but you couldn't cry. You could fight but you couldn't actually be upset. You could never be unsure or second guess yourself. The purity put on men is different from women in my experience

Women had to be pure in body and behaviour

Men had to be pure reason.

Women had to be pretty and clean and perfect and men had to be always right and strong

And neither could feel or be wrong or sad or ugly

And I hated that

I wanted be able to be ugly and unlikable and difficult and uncomfortable and obnoxious and have it be okay

I wanted to not care

And I admire women and men who can break out of patriarchal ideas of gender roles and be themselves

But for me I can't because I never fit in either camp even when I played with gender expression in those spaces. Even when I tried to be GNC as a woman and a man

Man is more comfortable for woman than me but neither feel right

So I exist in a kinda of quantum space as gender

But by declaring myself as a "trash gremlin covered in dirt" or a "rat man" I reject both of patriarchal ideals of purity and gender I grew up around

I'm not pure and I don't wish to conform to the "purity" pushed on me by Christianity as I was growing up

And I also rejected the different kind of purity packaged and sold to me by paganism in my twenties

I am an ugly, uncomfortable, twisted thing sometimes

And I take pride in that and that's where that comes from

This isn't in response to anyone btw I'm just talking about my experiences and feelings

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for a Fic...

~*~

1. Can anyone recommend alpha/alpha wangxian stories where they are both alphas for the entire story? (any rating or setting) thanks so much! 💚💙💕🩵 @the-marathon-continues-nip​

Yours Shamelessly by kmichee (E, 35k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha/Alpha pairing, Alpha WWX, Alpha LWJ, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Knotting, Scenting, Discrimination, letter writing, Courtship, Swordfighting, smut then fluff then smut then fluff, Epistolary)

~*~

2.  For the next in the mood fic recs; how about something where the other jiang siblings follow wei ying into demonic cultivation? Or something where other members of the sects are practicing demonic cultivation? Don't mind at all if it gets dark. All the best! 💜💜 @crying--crow

The Fourth Path by handwritten (onefromanotherworld) (M, 6k, JC & WWX & JYL, canon divergence, yunmeng sibling bonding, demonic cultivation, demonic cultivators WWX & JC & JYL, necromancy, lingchi, revenge, blood & gore, broken bones, torture, murder, trauma, self-esteem issues, self-harm, canon-typical violence, hopeful ending)

~*~

3. For your next in the mood for, does anyone know any good jc centric podfics? I've listened to the ones read by gwogobo, sisi_rambles, and god of laundry baskets. Thank you!

[PODFIC] "Then why did you do it?'' ''BECAUSE I LOVE YOU” by AmyNChan (T, 10-20min, JC & WWX, podfic, post-canon, no JC & WWX reconciliation, hurt/comfort)

[Podfic] Drowning in the Sun by flamingwell (T, 1-1.5 Hrs, JC & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence,Golden Core Transfer, Canon-Typical Violence, Brotherly Love, Sunshot Campaign, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Surgery, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3)

[Podfic] ius in bello by flamingwell (T, 30-45 Mins, Canon Divergence, Tearjerker, Sad Ending, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, Not A Fix-It, POV JC, Audio Format: Streaming, Audio Format: MP3) self-recs (both angsty though)

[Podfic] Cold read of For Both Of Us (And Time Is But A Paper Moon) by kisahawklin (E, 7-10 Hrs, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Background Relationships, Canonical Character Death, Mentions of Rape, not explicit but definitely referenced, Time Travel, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Canon Divergence, Asexual JC, First Time, Getting Together, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, Audio Format: MP3)

[Podfic] With Absolute Splendor by kisahawklin (T, 4-4.5 Hrs, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, The Untamed (TV) Compliant, Post-The Untamed (TV), JC is Bad at Feelings, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Weddings, Wedding Planning, Some politics, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming)

[Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin (T, 1.5-2 Hrs, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they're working on it), Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming)

[Podfic] Cold read of Hand in Hand Together (All Your Life) by kisahawklin (T, 5-6 Hrs, ZhulCheng, WangXian, Asexual JC, Queerplatonic Relationships, Implied future MingLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming) and a number of other works by Kisahawklin (who mainly focuses on Wangxian but also does a good bit of Jiang Cheng centric stuff)

[podfic] From Yunmeng, Unsent by jellyfishfire (T, 30-45 Mins, JC & WWX, Epistolary, Angst, Canon Compliant, moderate descriptions of gore, Sound Effects)

~*~

4. ITMF some Wei Wuxian missing his precious baby. Can be anything, like for Wei Ying, his top most priority is his baby. For example: time travel, wwx was back in time but the thing he miss the most is his baby. Again, can be anything. @whateverweilanlovechild

~*~

5. Hi!!! Itmf a fanfic where Wwx's parents aren't really dead, but abandoned him in Yilling instead.

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons Series by starandrea (Varies, 1m, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Accidental Marriage, Fluff, Happy Ending, Telepathic bond, Kink Negotiation, Family Drama, Magical Pregnancy, Dual Cultivation, Shapeshifters, Modern with Magic, Immortality, Yilling Wei Sect) if unintentional abandonment due to entrapment counts? Then the later part of Magical Marriage Ribbons might fit

~*~

6. Hey!! I am not trying to find any specific au but like can you recommend me some au where lan wangji is like very petty and very protective of wei ying. Post canon. Thank you :) @sineofu

Revenge is a Side Dish Best Served With Tea by merakily (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Protective LWJ, Petty LWJ, Fluff and Humor)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, ish, Awkward Conversations, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they're working on it) podfic available and recommended for 3

~*~

7. itmf mid to long bottom/omega lwj fics! preferably not explicit :)

~*~

8. this is super specific but i kinda want to read a fic where one/some/all of these things are present:

a. playing with the other's hand

b. headpats

c. squeezing partner's hand when facing hard times as a means of encouragement or support

preferably wangxian but i welcome all ships, including dead dove ones. go ham!

~*~

9. I remember reading this one fic where Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji are both like celebs/cultivators in modern day. In fact, I remember snickering very hard when someone recorded Lan Xichen mentioning "fuckboy." So are there any other fics where the Twin Jades are celebs and cultivators in modern day?

I'll also accept social media aus, too.

Thank you and I love you.

WeHateDogs by trippednfell (T, 3k, WangXian, Modern AU, Inspired by Twitter, Social Media AU, WWX is a professional dog hater, Fluff and Crack)

and so my heart beats wildly by lily_winterwood (E, 106k, WangXian, Modern Era, Athletes, Miscommunication, frenemies to lovers, Rivals to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, Competitive Cultivation, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Olympics, Inappropriate use of an Olympic gold medal, Switching, Bottom LWJ, night-hunting as international Olympic sport, complete with in-story fandom drama; Sect territories as nations; and so my heart beats wildly [PODFIC] by Opalsong) basically all the cast are famous cultivators

All Old Things are New Again series by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 59k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators, cultivators can   recognize important people from previous lives, vaguely, this started out as a cute sugar fantasy and got just incredibly horny very fast, blame LWJ) I believe the specific fic the requester is referring to (LXC saying ‘fuckboy’) is “All Old Things Are New Again” by TheFeelsWhale on AO3. If not already mentioned, it does for the requirements.

~*~

10. Thank you for all you do, I've found so many great fics through you guys! For the next I'm in the mood for post, can you recommend something similar to 'Delight in Misery' by nirejseki? Specifically with jiang cheng and lan zhan becoming friends/coparenting? With wangxian endgame tho. Thank you so much! @forgottenwhispersinthedark

~*~

11. ITMF Any fics where Wei Wuxian's hair gets cut, with all the connotations that would have had in the time period, such as marking him as a criminal and other humiliation.

~*~

12. Hey there, for itmf where su she is obsessed with wwx or Lwj. I mostly prefer su she being a antagonist but any works, thanks <3

🧡 Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 48k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions)

💙 Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, WangXian, 3rd person pov, implied offscreen wangxian sex)

A Soft Storm by AvoOwO (Not rated, 47k, wangxian, modern, hurt WWX, LWJ pov, protective LWJ, not SS friendly, car accidents, hurt/comfort, heavy angst w happy ending, sexual harrasment, stalking, crying, blood & injury & gore, major character injury, college, slut shaming, insults)

seeds by antebunny (G, 3k, WangXian, SS & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Identity Porn, Dramatic Irony, identity theft, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the Inherent Romance of Being Known, BAMF WWX, protective boyfriend!wwx, simp!lwj)

~*~

13. Hey hi!❤️ For itmf r there any fics where Lwj is forced to spend time with someone else (no marriage or engagement) other than wwx and wwx gets jealous about it? Thanks!

What Comes After Love by Rainbow_Horizon (T, 17k, WangXian, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, POV WWX, Sad WWX, Jealous WWX, Canon - Módào Zǔshī & The Untamed Combination, Post-Canon, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Break Up, Separations, Healing, Husbands, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, marriage issues, Marriage Proposal) here lwj is forced to spent time with someone who tries to marry him despite him and wwx already being married, so i'm not sure if that's what you're looking for?

The Proposal by LFMH021 (T, 93k, WangXian, One-sided LWJ/OMC, Post-Canon, Mutual Pining, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Courtship, WWX denying his feelings until he can't, LWJ and WWX are dumb idiots in love, Love Triangles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

14. Can you please offer me any fic recs that are similar to 'Here Again (Spirits Rise, Unbroken) by TheDefenestrator @akweenbitch​

~*~

15. you guys are wonderful! thank you so much for all your help finding fics!!! i have a half itmf/half fic finder question --- any angsty dark lan clan fics that focus on wei ying, but especially one where they break his soul bond(?) with Lan Zhan --- i think i remember one where later on they need WY's help - any suggestions greatly appreciated! (also in a fic finder)

Say my name and his in the same breath by ataratah (M, 38k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Rejection, Mutual Pining, Found Family Feels, Temporary Character Death, magical baby aquisition, Angst with a Happy Ending, No Golden Core Transfer, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

~*~

16. Hello! Fantastic blog, tysm to the mods for running it <3 for the next ITMF, does anyone have good fics centered around non-sexual intimacy?

a place for a step forward by thelastdboy (G, 2k, WangXian, Modern AU, No Powers, Established Relationship, References to Depression, Non-Sexual Intimacy, ADHD, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Neurodiversity, Self-Esteem Issues) a self-rec <:

~*~

17. Hi mods! For the next itmf can I request some fics where WWX, WQ or the Wen Remnants can't rest in peace because no one mourned them correctly? Like, they didn't give any of them an appropriate burial or make them memorial tablets, burn joss paper, things like that. They just left their bodies there (or lack of it in WWX's case). And people finding out someway, idk meeting their ghosts, them haunting a place or something maybe. Thank you! @jiangclaritybell

hole in our souls by sssrha (T, 5k, LWJ & WN, Angst, au where A-Yuan died because I like making my readers sad, Canon Divergence, Sad, Bittersweet Ending, also maybe tw for gore but it’s not really graphic so like, Ghosts)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what  you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack,  whatever - it’s all good!***

[wolfoftheblackflames]

Another piece of the fic for you misfits, enjoy!

The Devil and The Innocent: Pt.6

Meanwhile, with Adam and Lute, the two paid a visit to Little Pride's favorite duo. Vox and Valentino. “So tell me, what can we do for you?” The man with the black slicked back hair and pronounced jaw asked as his bald partner with glasses leered at Lute.

Adam smirked, placing a simple bag of coins on the table. “See I want to make an ex soldier of the Exorcist Platoon my little slave. And I know you two are the best at getting that done.” The man grinned.

“You're allowed to do it painfully as well. And we both know you two hate Carmilla Carmine and her little brats.” Lute added not bothered by the creepy look Valentino gave her.

“Oh, it seems like you two are asking us to make Carmilla disappear..” Valentino mused as the Hispanic man grinned evilly.

“More like kidnap and beat the shit out of.” Lute replied with a sadistic grin. “And then that little cunt will have to do anything to get her precious family back.”

“Damn Lute you're going murder hobo on me.” Adam winced knowing that grin. “But yeah, make the Carmine bitches beg and squeal, then our little Vagasaurus will have to accept that she's all mine.” He laughed.

“Consider it done.” Vox chuckled, offering his pale skinned hand. “Thank you for your patronage Mr Dickmaster.”

All four chuckled evilly as now Carmilla had no idea what was coming to her.

----

Elsewhere in her home Carmilla leaned against her large chair with a growl. She really hated having to get her hands dirty, but with her instinct being right on nobody willing to help her the taller woman had no choice. “Hold on Vaggie, I'm coming for you.” She growled, grabbing out her more dangerous foot attire.

A knock came to her door as Carmilla got her sharpened hidden blades on. “What the?” She blinked and then she heard a voice.

“Come out seniorità, you don't have a choice in the matter.” Valentino sneered with his many golden tooth goons. The lackeys went straight for the door with a battering ram.

Carmilla moved out of the way snarling. How dare they break into her home?! The Latina growled and slipped out through the back rushing towards Hellfire Forest on foot while being quiet as to not alert the small army.

“Tch Vox isn't going to like this. Oh well those daughters of hers will be back soon too.” Valentino grinned walking away.

Carmilla dashed through the increasingly colder forest. Her chest heaving softly as she tried to find that place. The forest however summoned more of those creepy monsters. “Shit!”

----

Back at the Palace, Vaggie was smiling at Charlie who held a box in her big paws. “Here is a gift for you.” She stated handing it to Vaggie.

“You're spoiling me a little too much.” Vaggie replied feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Please open it.” The Devil grinned with her tail wagging.

Vaggie rolled her eye at Charlie, she then peeked into the box and blinked seeing the most gorgeous necklace she'd ever seen. It was a golden chain with a pair of angel wings that had extended out from a beautiful amethyst. “Sus hermosas..” (It's beautiful) came from a shocked Vaggie's lips. “Can I put it on you?” Charlie asked fidgeting.

Vaggie nodded softly, moving her gorgeous long hair as she felt Charlie move behind her, the Devil carefully unclasping the necklace and draping it over Vaggie's chest. “You look so pretty!”

“It does suit you.” Husk smirked.

“Yeah blondie here was frantically searching for it all day!” Angel teased as Charlie growled at him.

This caused Vaggie to laugh but she then gently took Charlie's paw. “Would you like to read with me?” She asked as she chuckled, seeing that tail wag as an answer.

Husk ushered everyone back to work to give the two some space by the fire. He smiled a bit seeing Charlie happily watching each page turn and listening intently to Vaggie.

----

Angel grinned and gathered everyone together as Husk jumped up on the quacking foot stool. He was soon knocked off with a grumble by Alastor who grinned. “Hey radiohead, what are ya doing?!” The candlestick growled waving his flames at Alastor.

“I know what you all want to do, and to be quite clear, this little wind-up cat won't be able to do it well.” The radio playfully grinned.

“Alastor, don't be such a bully darling. But I am curious to hear what your plan is.” Rosie replied with Niffty just zipping around cleaning.

“And you know what romance is?” Angel asked, growling.

“No my shiny pink chap, I don't even care for it. But I do know how to make a place feel like romance will happen.” Alastor used his antenna to straighten his nob bow tie.

Angel looked skeptical at him as the radio continued. “You all want to be human again don't you?” He smirked, poking a sore spot on everyone.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I'm setting ya on fire!’ The candlestick growled helping Husk up.

“Fair enough.” Alastor laughed. “Now my little friends it is time to break this annoyance once and for all.” (Cue to be human again)

The crew went about doing their jobs to make this romance blossom. Angel playfully danced with Husk, Cherri looked amused, Velvette was smug as ever, Rosie was grinning as she orchestrated the other enchanted knick knacks, Alastor got the musical instruments ready, and Niffty despite being a small cup, got the room spotless.

Outside kept bustling and cleaning, Velvette smirked and dove into the fountain as a way to steal the spotlight.

“Damn it Velvette!” Cherri snapped as the crew grumbled while walking to go dry off.

----

It was later during a bath Charlie whined being scrubbed. “Wait, you want me to do what?!”

“Don't worry toots, you'll do alright with Vagina. Besides, you don't have much time left anyway!” Angel replied pointing to the golden rose. “Even Al, who is surprisingly good at music, is helping out. Didn't expect that interview radio host to actually help too.”

Charlie glared at Angel shaking her fur and splashing him purposely. “It's Vaggie.” She defended but then sighed walking around the room. A coat rack started to dry her off as she sighed. “Look, I know time is running out… I just dunno if I can do this.” The Devil sighed feeling her fur being combed back.

“C'mon blondie, it's obvious you love her right?” Angel stated standing on the vanity. “Love…?” The Devil blinked lightly placing a paw to her chest. “More than anything yes..” She sounded so soft and innocent.

Angel smiled and lightly took her free paw while his candle hands were out. “Then open your heart up again. Seriously, it's possible that miss bookworm likes ya too.”

Charlie lifted her head at that and stared at him. She was scared to open up, but with how much she enjoyed being with Vaggie, it's a risk she had to try taking. “Okay…”

“Alright let's get cha looking so good our little guest will swoon!” Angel grinned.

After awhile Charlie was ready as Husk bowed politely. “Come this way my princess. Your date awaits.”

----

Vaggie on the other hand groaned at the assortment of dresses Velvette had shown her. “Quit being a picky pissy bitch already!” The dresser growled looking annoyed. “Bloody hell you're annoying.”

“I don't need some dresser who thinks she's hot shit to pick for me!” Vaggie retorted pointing her spear at Velvette.

“Fine, come out ugly as fuck!” Velvette left hopping away.

Lucifer winced seeing the two bicker. He then tapped Vaggie on the arm. “May I be some assistance?” He asked.

“What do I have to lose..” Vaggie groaned, pinching her nosebridge.

Lucifer smiled and motioned over Razzle and Dazzle, who circled Vaggie looking her over and then diving into the other closet. “I think something like this would make you look like a beautiful dame Maggie.”

Vaggie looked annoyed at him but then turned her head towards Razzle and Dazzle who pulled out a truly gorgeous looking dress. “Sir… I don't think.. I don't deserve such a beautiful thing…”

Lucifer lightly touched her arm again. “My friend you do. You've made my little char-char smile again! As a father it's all I've ever dreamed of seeing.” He quacked smiling. “And I think she sees you as someone deserving of love too.”

Vaggie blinked, she looked hesitant but what he said filled her with warmth, it was strange and new. Unlike her found family bond with the Carmines, this was different. “Alright sir…” She gulped and went to put on the dress behind the screen.

(Hiya, hope you guys enjoyed the well awaited dance scene, I loved writing it ^^)