#not beta read or edited because we die like kings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gutouhua · 2 years

Text

ao3 / tip jar / comms open

wc: 5.3k+

tags: mentions of lbh & lqg, heavily implied bingqiu, mbj has horns, mentions of eating animal meat, mbj gives sqh bj & hj, some nipple play, mbj slaps sqh's ass like twice, spite & cum as lube, cum eating/swallowing, size kink, some dirty talk, mild urethra play if you squint (nothing inserted inside), multiple orgasms, anal sex, anal fingering, cockwarming, love at first sight for mbj, possessive mbj, we ignore canon and pretend their first time together was amazing, au, not beta read we die like s2 svsss

a/n: don't squint too hard at this, it's just my excuse to write this couple having hot seggs yeah. also i couldn't come up with a good title so here we are with this generic title :3 will probably maybe go back and edit this ;-;

“You are pretty too.” And he was, immensely so. So pretty, in fact, that he was the epitome of perfection in Shang Qinghua’s eyes. He’d never seen someone so much like his ideal type – never wanted to fuck someone so badly.

But he was not going to admit all that.

The diplomatic gala was exactly what Shang Qinghua thought it would be: a matchmaking spectacle with everyone packed onto the floor like sardines and fluffed up like gaudy peacocks.

And he wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

Shang Qinghua made a beeline for a server with a drink, ignoring the protests of his brother, Shen Qingqiu, and retreated to the corner to avoid human interaction. He most definitely did not want some impressionable young man or woman to think he was interested in them just because he was chatting politely and then have them send a formal marriage proposal along with a caravan of jewels and treasures come tomorrow morning. He shuddered at the thought.

He was about to down his third glass of wine for the night when he noticed a man, or rather, a demon, on the fringes of the crowd. Sapphire eyes and a sharp, aristocratic nose sat on a stony-faced pale blue canvas typical of the demons of the Red Lands. His shiny black hair was braided into a long tail down the back with silver-tipped horns jutting out from his thick mane. In the middle of his forehead was a dark blue demon mark – the mark of a Red Lands aristocrat.

He was stunningly attractive and exactly Shang Qinghua’s type: a pretty face with (what he liked to call it) a refrigerator body.

Mhm, delicious.

Suddenly, Shang Qinghua didn’t think this gala was a completely idiotic idea after all.

But he had no time to consider his gorgeous demon before someone announced that dinner was beginning soon, so he shuffled into the great dining hall and plopped into an ornate seat with his name labeled carefully on the back.

Shen Qingqiu took his seat next to him shortly, sighing deeply with his fan waving in short, quick motions despite the fact that it was quite chilly in the room.

“What took you so long?” Qinghua teased.

Shen Qingqiu only fanned harder, looking at him tiredly. “The banquet has not even officially begun, and I am already being run ragged.”

Shang Qinghua arched a fine brow, already knowing the answer. “The women?”

“And men.” He nodded tiredly.

“Well, that’s to be expected seeing as you’re the most eligible bachelor on the content. Well,” Shang Qinghua paused. “Aside from the demon king. But who would want to marry that barbarous man when you're around?”

“I am glad to see you have so much confidence in your brother, but sometimes I find that Mobei-jun has an easier time and it would be better to be him instead.”

“Mobei-jun?”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu amended. “Mobei-jun is the king of the Red Lands.”

“And you are on a first-name basis with him?” Shang Qinghua wondered when his brother got close enough to the demon king to call him so casually.

“A secret,” Shen Qingqiu chided him. “But don’t tell anyone. He doesn’t like to be called by that name, but I do it anyway.”

His brother was insufferable. “Can he not have you killed for that?”

“He loves me too much to do that.”

“Huh, so my brother does indeed have a secret love life that I don’t know about. I’m hurt.”

“Hmph, if only I had one.”

“What was that?” Shang Qinghua asked.

Shen Qingqiu looked away, suddenly finding the design on the plate before him to be very interesting. “Noth-”

“That was not nothing!” He interrupted. “You said–”

Heavy doors creaked open to reveal their dinner host and the room fell to a hush as if everyone had drawn one collective breath and was holding it in. And then he saw him – that beautiful horned demon. Shang Qinghua could not tear his eyes away from him and it appeared that everyone else felt the same.

The demon king made his way to the head of the table and turned his head toward Shang Qinghua’s direction, blue eyes piercing through him. “Shall we,” an icy-honeyed voice rolled through the room, “begin dinner?”

Everyone let out their breaths at the same time: the servants began moving and plating food, aristocrats turned toward their neighbors for conversation, and Shen Qingqiu began fending off the two women seated closest to them.

Shang Qinghua looked down at the table, cheeks burning from the encounter. Was he staring at me? Impossible. Why would he be looking at me? We've never met before and it’s not as if I'm the most handsome man or woman in the room – in fact, far from it. Ah, he’s so hot. I really want to jump his bones, but now that I know who he is…it seems almost impossible for me to do that. And he wouldn’t want me either. By the stars, he’s so attractive though and–

Shen Qingqiu broke off from the women for a moment after he noticed that Qinghua wasn’t eating. “Brother, is the food not to your liking? You’ve never been one to shy away from stuffing your face at banquets.”

Qinghua was too preoccupied to take note of his teasing, instead too focused on trying to stop his cheeks from burning. He was glad that the lighting was dim so that his brother wouldn’t tease him for it. “I think the king was staring at me just now.”

The meat on Shen Qingqiu’s silver fork balanced precariously mid-air on the edge of the prongs. “Why do you think he was staring at you?”

“Because his eyes were on me and in my direction? Pupils trained on me?” Shang Qinghua wasn’t some sheltered member of royalty. No, he knew when someone had their gaze on him. Had learned to feel and recognize it.

Shen Qingqiu put the meat in his mouth and chewed while humming. “Perhaps, when he saw you, he thought you the most beautiful person in the room and couldn’t help but stare at you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Shang Qinghua almost burst out laughing before realizing that doing so would be highly inappropriate in the current situation so he stifled the urge by shoving a piece of lamb in his mouth. “If that is what he thinks, then he must be blind or a fool.”

“Why?”

Shang Qinghua pointed at himself as if it was obvious. “Because I am clearly not the most eye-catching person here. If he thinks so, then there must be something wrong with him. There are plenty of others here that are a hundred, no, a thousand times more beautiful than I am. I'm very plain and have no delusions about my appearance. A five out of ten on a good day. You know this, brother.”

Shen Qingqiu shook his head. “I do not, Qinghua. You must have more confidence in yourself. You are as beautiful if not even more beautiful than them.”

Qinghua knew his brother was trying to cheer him up, but it didn’t really make him feel any better. “That does not count," he muttered.

“Are you saying a king’s opinion is null?”

“Yes, when the king is my brother.” Shang Qinghua argued back while shoving a potato in his mouth.

“Hmph, then shall we ask our dinner host what his opinion is?”

“No!” Qinghua said quickly. “Why would you even ask him? He wouldn’t care about something trivial like this.”

Shen Qingqiu smirked at him. “So you care about his opinion of you? Are you smitten by him?”

“Absolutely not.” His answer was swift. “He looks so stoic and boring, and I want nothing to do with him.” But there was no mistaking the scarlet running across Shang Qinghua’s cheekbones.

“Dear brother, there is no need to fret. I won’t ask him that.”

Shang Qinghua visibly deflated in relief.

“At least in public.”

“What!”

“Don’t ‘what’ me! I’m only asking him for his opinion!” Shen Qingqiu said in defense.

“But I don’t want you to,” he whined.

“It’s a question from a friend to another friend. For curiosity’s sake. After all, you doubt my opinions so I should ask for another king’s opinions, should I not?”

Shang Qinghua groaned. “You are so embarrassing. Then please at least do it when I’m not in your presence.”

“Can’t promise that.” Shen Qingqiu skewered another piece of meat and put it in his mouth. “We’re going to go see him later and that might be my only chance to ask him before we leave.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua almost dropped his fork in his lap, barely catching it before the sauce dirtied his clothes. “What do you mean? You never told me we were going to have a private audience with him,” he hissed.

His brother looked innocently at him. “Did Liu Qingge not tell you? Hm, I should punish him for insubordination.”

Shang Qinghua would’ve bared his teeth at his brother if they had not been in public. “Don’t lie! You’re probably the one who told him not to tell me!” He cut his meat with heated anger, sawing at the poor tenderloin while imagining it to be Shen Qingqiu.

“Be nicer to the meat, Qinghua, what did it ever do to you?”

“Everything,” he seethed while continuing to knife the meat. “You know I hate socializing with aristocrats and now you want me to socialize with a king? And on top of it, with one I’ve never even met before! Are you out of your mind?” But at the same time, Shang Qinghua was hoping that he could somehow get into that demon king’s robes. If only.

“Brother, I just want him to meet you. And like what you said, you’ve never met him before. How are we to maintain good relations with the Red Lands if you never meet their king?”

We were doing just fine before all this, he thought, but outwardly, he agreed – it would probably be one of his only chances of meeting him. “Well, I’ll meet him, but I can’t guarantee I’ll like him.”

“That is enough for me.” Shen Qingqiu primly dabbed his mouth with a napkin, conveniently hiding a feline smile behind the fabric.

Still, Shang Qinghua looked at his brother suspiciously. Shen Qingqiu was oddly acquiescent today, but his appetite was back now so he focused on stuffing as much food in his mouth to avoid any further conversation from his brother and any neighboring aristocrats.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

After dinner, Shang Qinghua was escorted to the king’s study room. His brother had promised to be there later, but if the demon prince Luo Binghe hanging off his arm like an oversized puppy was any indication of what was going to transpire, Shang Qinghua knew his brother had left him to fend for himself.

But no matter. Shang Qinghua could deal with a lone demon king. Probably.

So Shang Qinghua sat in his plush seat before the king’s desk, obediently waiting for the king despite wanting nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep. The food coma was kicking in and combined with the relaxing incense, warm draft, and comfortable seat, Qinghua was about to sleep and–

“Prince of the Black Lands, Shang Qinghua.”

He bolted straight up, turning dizzily to find the source of the deep voice. Blue eyes glowed in the shadows before Mobei-jun seemed to materialize in front of him, a flurry of fur and black robes, ice and dominance.

“D-Demon King.”

Mobei-jun frowned. “So it seems that moniker is more popular than I thought.”

Shang Qinghua tried something different. Maybe he didn’t like being called ‘demon king.’ “My king?”

Mobei-jun showed no indication of his feelings aside from a grunt.

‘My king’ would have to do then. Shang Qinghua certainly wouldn’t dare to call a stranger, who was a king no less, by their given name.

“Where is your brother? I am told I would be meeting the two of you.”

“Ah, he–” Shang Qinghua paused, trying to find a good way to word it. “He was last seen with your brother. I’m not sure what business he has with him.”

“Hmph.” Mobei-jun grumbled. “Your fiend of a brother with that brother of mine who's always so clingy and horny...I know exactly what he’s doing with your brother. Or rather, to your brother.”

Shang Qinghua was pretty sure his jaw would’ve been wide open in shock if he wasn’t in the presence of a foreign king right now. “I-I apologize for my brother’s actions. He’s been known to fall prey to pretty faces. And your brother does have one…”

“What about me?” The question was sudden and unexpected.

“What?”

Mobei-jun repeated himself. “What about me?”

“You?” Shang Qinghua squeaked out. “You want my opinion of you?”

He nodded, looking expectantly at him. It was a command and it was to be answered regardless. Fine. He would tell this king what he wanted to hear.

But he was not going to admit all that.

“Shang Qinghua, come closer.” Mobei-jun's eyes bore deep into Qinghua, so deep that he felt an ache in his soul.

He inched closer to him but kept his distance.

“Closer.”

A scoot forward.

“Closer.” This time there was impatience in his voice.

Qinghua moved so close he could feel the demon king’s cold aura radiate in waves. He shivered when he felt cold winds trail dangerously close to him.

“Tell me the truth,” he murmured. And there it was again, that piercing, cold gaze that seemed to numb Shang Qinghua – and make him want to do anything Mobei-jun said.

“You are indeed very pretty, my king. Very handsome – there is nothing you lack in looks.”

“But there is something I lack?” Mobei-jun was not angry, merely curious.

One would be hard-pressed to find something Mobei-jun lacked. He was the demon king of the Red Lands, after all, with dominion over all in the land and unparalleled powers. His handsome features and muscled physique was not lost on Shang Qinghua either. But if there was something he lacked…

“Softness.” Shang Qinghua ventured hesitantly. “You lack softness, my king.”

“Hmph.” Mobei-jun rearranged his heavy robes and shed the outer layer, perfuming the air with his spicy peppermint scent that seemed to grow stronger with each layer he removed. “I can be soft.”

Shang Qinghua doubted that such a stern-looking demon known for his harshness could be soft, but he did not want his brother to get mad at him for making the demon king angry. So he kept his mouth shut.

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes. “You do not believe me?”

Shang Qinghua rushed to reassure him. Already, his plan to seduce and appease was failing. “Of course, I believe you, my king!”

“Mobei-jun," he demanded.

“W-what?”

“That is my name – call me that.” It was a command. There would be no room for discussion.

“Yes, my king.”

“Mobei-jun.”

“Mobei-jun,” Shang Qinghua muttered.

The king – no, it was Mobei-jun now, smiled upon hearing his name, revealing white, gleaming teeth. “And I can show you softness if you will allow me.”

Shang Qinghua nodded (for what else was he supposed to do) and kept his eyes trained on those pointed teeth. Mobei-jun brought pale lips and sharp teeth to his face, and Shang Qinghua felt like he was going to faint. By the stars, the demon king was going to eat him.

But what came was not the rip of flesh and hot blood, but spicy peppermint and tenderness – Mobei-jun pressed his lips against Qinghua’s, nipping lightly at the edges while slowly rimming the seam of his warm lips with his cold tongue. The heady combination of Mobei-jun’s spicy scent and cool lips relaxed Shang Qinghua so much that he didn’t even notice when Mobei-jun slipped his tongue in between his, eagerly seeking out Qinghua’s tongue in a tangle of flesh and saliva – as if he wanted to mate their tongues together until they became one.

Shang Qinghua was sure he was drooling at this point and looking very undignified but Mobei-jun tasted too good to let go and who knew when he’d be able to kiss such a delicious man again – if ever? So he gripped his sharp horns, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction when the demon groaned against his lips, tongue faltering ever so slightly in its frantic dance.

Ah, so his horns are sensitive.

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up: Shang Qinghua slid his hands down to the base of Mobei-jun’s horns and scratched lightly, causing the king to pull back from the kiss, leaving a light string of saliva in the wake of their passion. They were both gasping now and Mobei-jun’s cold eyes were most certainly anything but cold now.

“D-Don’t touch my horns. They’re very sensitive.” He shuddered as if the thought of it was overwhelming.

Shang Qinghua let out a small smile. “But my king, they are so very pretty – how can I neglect them?”

If he noticed that Shang Qinghua had reverted back to calling him ‘my king,’ he made no comment about it. Instead, Mobei-jun turned, blushing lightly. “Still, for us demons, touching someone’s horns is like…” He trailed off, too embarrassed to say the rest.

“Touching someone’s penis?” Shang Qinghua pretended to guess. He was an avid reader and writer, those words were like child’s play to him. No word was too crude. Just unused and untried. “Dick? Cock?” His smile grew wider when Mobei-jun visibly squirmed under those words.

“Yes,” Mobei-jun mumbled.

“Hm, then I should touch them more, shouldn’t I? Does it not feel good?”

“It does.” He replied with a small pout. Then he paused for a second, looking heatedly at Shang Qinghua with those cold, sapphire eyes. “But I’d rather make you feel good.”

How could anyone have mistaken this demon for being as cruel as his uncle?

Shang Qinghua prostrated himself in mock deference to Mobei-jun with palms pressed against the floor, forehead resting above his hands. “Your wish is my command, my king. How do you wish to have me?”

The demon picked Shang Qinghua up in one fluid motion before setting him down gently on sumptuous silk bedding as if he had plucked a delicate flower and was trying to keep it from wilting. He pulled a pillow over and gently tucked it under Shang Qinghua’s hips while Qinghua began pulling off his many layers of clothing. And when Shang Qinghua was laid bare for his king’s pleasure, Mobei-jun kneeled in between his legs, unmoving, like a beautiful icy statue.

Shang Qinghua was confused. Wasn’t this the part where they would fuck like bunnies until the morning? “What’s wrong?”

“I–” Mobei-jun swallowed thickly. “I want to commit your image to memory. To burn it into my eyes, my mind, my entire soul until you are all I think about, all I see, and all I remember.”

“T-That’s nice,” Shang Qinghua stuttered, brain shortcircuiting from the intense romancing he was receiving today. “But why don’t we focus on other things first.” His dick twitched in agreement.

Mobei-jun pulled his gaze down, focusing intently. “Yes, other things,” he murmured.

The bed dipped low as he lowered himself to the bed and pushed Qinghua’s thighs apart before planting a languid, cool kiss directly on the tip of his cock where precum leaked.

Shang Qinghua's hips rose instinctually off the pillow as if offering himself to Mobei-jun, and he moaned hard. “Ah, my king.”

Mobei-jun decided then and there that he liked it when Shang Qinghua moaned for him so he kissed his cock again, licking the full length in order to not waste any of his Qinghua’s precious seed. Slowly, he lapped at the fat tip before working it into his mouth, savoring and licking each ridge and vein, careful to give the whole length equal attention.

Shang Qinghua’s dick was not nearly as big as his, nor any other demons for that matter, so despite swallowing it whole – so that his nose bumped against Qinghua’s smooth tummy – it did not reach the back of his throat. But Mobei-jun didn’t mind since it was just another reminder of how cute and small his little human prince was.

As Mobei-jun continued to bob his head along Shang Qinghua’s cock, relishing the musky floral scent flooding his senses and the pretty cries of his human prince, Qinghua’s hips began to fervently push against his mouth, moans growing louder. Mobei-jun couldn’t help reaching up to tweak a pinky nipple – it was so perky and hard that it was almost impossible for him to ignore. The way it stiffened in the air was almost as if it was reaching for his attention. He could not ignore it.

Shang Qinghua came as soon as Mobei-jun pinched his nipple, unable to stop himself from spilling himself in Mobei-jun’s mouth from the combined sensation.

“Ha, fuck, that felt so good,” he panted.

Mobei-jun smiled against Qinghua’s cock, pleased with the fact that he was able to make him cum. He swallowed the semen that sat warmly in his mouth – so warm that it almost burned his cool throat – and spit some of it out on his hand, the creamy liquid spiraling with his pale blue saliva to create an erotic mixture of body fluids.

Shang Qinghua looked down in embarrassment and flushed deeply. “You didn’t have to swallow it, my king. You could’ve just spit it out.”

“And let such precious seed go to waste? That would not be a very kingly thing to do, Shang Qinghua.”

There was absolutely nothing kingly about this entire situation, but Shang Qinghua didn’t bother pointing that out.

“And besides,” Mobei-jun continued, as he gently rolled Qinghua over so that the pillow was under his stomach now. “I need it for you. It won’t feel good if there’s nothing in there. It’ll hurt.” He frowned, pondering the idea. “You do know how sex between two men works, do you not, Shang Qinghua? Or is that not something they teach the humans of the Black Lands? Perhaps I should stop for now and–”

“No!” He’d perish if Mobei-jun stopped. “Of course they do!”

Mobei-jun slapped Qinghua’s ass lightly, pale cheeks turning the loveliest shade of pink. He would have to do that more often if Shang Qinghua allowed him. “Then behave,” he ordered.

Shang Qinghua promptly shut up.

Mobei-jun looked at the mixture in his palm – it wasn’t quite the amount he wanted so he spitted into his palm again until he was pleased with the amount before spreading Shang Qinghua’s ass to drip the saliva-mixed cum over Qinghua’s puckered hole. Mobei-jun let out a groan as it twitched as if to suck everything in. He slowly pushed a finger inside, lightly massaging Shang Qinghua’s rim, testing the small space, before he added another finger and then a third, making sure everything was slippery and wet and ready for him.

Shang Qinghua whimpered against the stretch, but it still wasn’t enough for him. “Please, my king, more. I need more.” I need you.

“Wait.” Mobei-jun’s tone was patient. “You are not ready yet.” He ignored his straining cock – rushing things would make the experience unpleasant. There would be opportunities later for him to take Qinghua fast and hard, but today was not the day.

Mobei-jun continued his slow thrusts in and out of Shang Qinghua’s hole until he could comfortably slide his fingers knuckles deep. Already, he could tell it would be a tight fit (demons and humans were not the most compatible), but he knew that his human prince would be able to take him. He slid his fingers out, enjoying the lewd squelch Qinghua’s ass made and used what remained of the mixture to coat his hard shaft, careful to cover every last inch while holding himself in. He was so ready to spill himself, but he would only do so in Shang Qinghua.

“Qinghua,” Mobei-jun said softly, gently prying open his ass cheeks to rest his heavy length against soft, peachy globes. Again, he itched to slap it, to make it blush bright red and see Qinghua twitch – he knows that his human prince would writhe so beautifully before him – but that would be for another time. “Are you okay? Ready for me?”

Underneath him, Shang Qinghua moaned and unconsciously pushed his ass towards Mobei-jun’s hips, seeking friction against his aching hole while Mobei-jun continued to rub his cock between his ass. His voice came out as a shaky breath. “Yes, my king, please, put it in.”

Being at his limit and unable to reject such a desperate request from his human prince, Mobei-jun began to carefully slide himself into Shang Qinghua, gritting his teeth when he felt a vise-like grip around his cock, eyes watering when he filled Qinghua completely with his balls resting against his perineum.

“Ha, Qinghua, you’re so tight.”

Shang Qinghua’s response came out in ragged breaths. “And you’re…you’re so big.”

Mobei-jun smiled and gripped Qinghua’s lithe hips. “Humans are so tiny that there is no helping it. And bigger only means I can fill you better.”

Compared to the veiled riddles that humans often spoke in, demons were so straightforward. Shang Qinghua buried his face in the pillows, trying to ignore the embarrassment he felt – there was nothing to be embarrassed about since they were already in such a compromising situation, but he felt it nonetheless. No one had ever been this straightforward with him before, not even his own brother.

“Just move,” he grumbled.

“Your wish is my command, Qinghua.” But Mobei-jun dragged his thick cock out of Shang Qinghua at what felt like a snail’s pace and thrust slowly back in, continuing like this until Qinghua felt like he was going to go mad if he didn’t move any faster.

“Faster, my king, you move too slow.”

“Oh? Then you have to tell this king exactly how you want it. Go ahead.” Mobei-jun caught Qinghua’s lips in his, sucking his tongue lightly. “Qinghua,” he whispered, voice so honeyed that Shang Qinghua was pretty sure it’d be impossible to deny him anything. “Tell me what you want.”

Qinghua gulped. It was his turn to be shy now. He hesitated. “I want…I want you to move faster. Inside me.”

“What part of me do you want to move faster inside you? My fingers?” He began to pull his length out stopping when Shang Qinghua whined and reached for his hips.

“No,” he whimpered, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “I want your…cock.”

That’s all it takes for Mobei-jun to slam his hips into Shang Qinghua’s. “Of course, you can have my cock, Qinghua. You can have it in whatever,” he pulled out only to thrust back inside harshly again, “Way you like.”

Qinghua swayed underneath the force, moaning hard when Mobei-jun began to pound rhythmically into him, breath catching when he hit a particularly soft spot deep inside him. He continued to press his face into the pillow, clenching the sheets around him while focusing on the delicious weight above him and the cold hands that circled his waist.

He was getting close, so close – he could tell by the way his cock ached fiercely and hung heavy in between his thighs. He just needed a little bit more to tide him over the edge so he reached down to grip his length, pumping roughly while fondling his sensitive tip.

“Don’t do that.” Mobei-jun panted.

“W-Why?” Even he could hear the ache in his voice. “I’m so close.”

Mobei-jun narrowed his eyes. “Your pleasure can come from no one but me,” he said harshly. “I’ll do it.”

He pushed Shang Qinghua’s hands away to grasp his length, causing Qinghua to jolt at the cool fingers against his hot, throbbing dick. “Ah, fuck,” he gasped. “That feels so good – just like that, keep rubbing it hard.”

Mobei-jun wouldn’t have stopped even if his life depended on it. Qinghua’s cock felt so good in his hands that he didn’t even want to stop. “Does it feel good, Qinghua? Which do you like better? My mouth or my hand?” He lowered himself so that his lips brushed the tips of Qinghua’s ear. “Or my cock?”

Too fucked out of his mind from Mobei-jun’s continuous thrusting, Shang Qinghua could only pant out a haphazard reply. “My king, ah, fuck I–, a-all of them feels good. They all feel good.” Mobei-jun squeezed particularly hard then, pushing lightly against Qinghua’s urethra so that cum seeped out. “Shit, ah, I’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“Then cum.”

His whispered command made the coil in Shang Qinghua snap, and he came so hard he swore he saw stars. Mobei-jun grunted when he felt Qinghua’s slick pool in his palm and seep through his fingers. Anything that came from his Qinghua was precious though, so he brought his fingers to his lips, taking the time to lick it clean off his hands.

“A-again!” Shang Qinghua flushed deeply. “You don’t have to do that…”

“But I want to.” And he was serious about it. Everything that came from Qinghua was a priceless treasure. And Mobei-jun wanted to rip another pretty orgasm from his Qinghua and find release for himself, so he continued to fuck Shang Qinghua through his orgasm, rutting his hips against his. “Qinghua,” he asked. “Can you give me another one?”

Surely another one would be too much. “I-I don’t think so, my king.” Shang Qinghua clenched hard when Mobei-jun slid deep inside. “I-It’s too much.”

“I think you can give me another one though? I want to see your pretty face when you come undone for me. Will you cum for me?”

Such sweet, warm words from such a cold person. How could Shang Qinghua resist his king? “I–”

Mobei-jun could feel Qinghua’s hole ripple against his hard length, milking him, bringing him closer to release. His Qinghua would only need a little more coaxing.

“You take my cock so well, Qinghua, so tight, so pretty and pliant for me. Will you give me another orgasm? I want to feel you squeeze my cock – only then will I cum. After you.”

Shang Qinghua squeezed his eyes shut. Damn this man and his dirty yet flowery words – he knew just how to get to him. He felt his release a few seconds later, his dick throbbing hard from the consecutive orgasm before Mobei-jun suddenly pulled him up into a sitting position to rest his back against his hard chest.

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua gasped. “What are you doing?” In this position, Mobei-jun sank deeper inside him, so deep that his cock seemed to press against Qinghua’s prostate. “My king, if you do that, I’ll–” Mobei-jun didn’t say anything but Shang Qinghua could feel him get bigger before his hips stuttered and he felt hot liquid spill against his prostate at the same time Mobei-jun bit his neck hard, making Shang Qinghua cum a third time. “I’ll c-cum,” he wailed.

Mobei-jun rocked beneath him, riding out his high while Qinghua lay limply in his arms. “Ah fuck, Qinghua, you felt so good.”

At this point, Shang Qinghua was too tired to do anything. He rested against Mobei-jun’s cool chest while Mobei-jun gently moved him so he was laying down, adjusting the pillows and blankets so they could rest comfortably. He left his cock inside Shang Qinghua the entire time, and Qinghua wondered when he was going to take his cock out, but even when he softened and had settled into the blanket and his breathing slowed, he did not take it out.

“My king?”

“Yes, Qinghua?”

Was this something he could say? Or would Mobei-jun get mad? Shang Qinghua decided he’d say it anyway. “Are you going to take it out?”

Mobei-jun slit his eye open. “Take what out?”

“Your…dick.”

“Of course not, what a silly question.” He shut his eye, dragging Qinghua closer to his chest, and said nothing else – as if the argument was finished.

Shang Qinghua didn’t really mind – he just felt a bit stuffed down there and full (he wasn’t used to it), but it felt oddly good, and he supposed this wasn’t going to be a common occurrence, so he let Mobei-jun be.

“Goodnight then, my king.”

Mobei-jun huffed.

It was only when Shang Qinghua fell asleep did Mobei-jun dare to speak.

“Goodnight, Shang Qinghua.” And then, after a pause, and in a low voice, as if he was afraid someone would hear him, he said, “I have loved you since the moment I met you…eight years ago on that fated night. And I will never let you go now that you are in my grasp.”

red lands & black lands come from egyptian mythology - set ruled over the red lands and Horus ruled over the black lands to balance each other out.

i just realized that i have a terrible habit of making things one-shots but putting tidbits of info that make you wonder what happened to warrant that info & whatnot (like the flashback in my previous chilumi fic *cries*).

anyway, moshang nation come get your crumbs!

come yell at/with me on the bird app (where i'm more active)

#moshang #mobei jun x shang qinghua #mobei jun #shang qinghua #moshang fic #moshang fanfic #moshang smut #svsss fanfic #svsss smut #svsss fic #danmei smut #damnei fanfic #yaoi smut #yaoi bl #yaoi fanfic #hua!writes

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lesserfandomappreciation · 3 years

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Ariadne and why the Mycenaeans can fuck right off

Warning: Includes brief mentions of r*pe, cultural destruction, ancient patriarchy reminding us why no woman would ever time-travel more than 5 years into the past if that and a great deal of spite for male historians/public education history/mythology classes.

Possible side effects may include a sudden intense rage for an ancient society equivalent to the innate rage one has for the Romans burning the library of Alexandria, a distinct hatred for ancient men not being able to let anyone have nice things, and a sudden fascination for Minoa.

Usually, I stick to writing imagines and being happy with that. It’s fun! I love it! But every now and again, in an attempt to escape the crushing forces known as reality and responsibilities I’ll put on a few cutscenes from games I’m: A) Too lazy to play B) Too broke to play C) Too unskilled to play D) All of the above

because cutscenes are free and why torture yourself with impossible levels when its free on Youtube?* *In all seriousness please support video games and video game creators, but no shame to those of us who prefer cutscenes to gameplay. A few weeks ago I added the game Hades made by Supergiant to the list because the cutscenes were bomb and the characters are so much fun! Intricate as all hell! Hella cute too but that’s unrelated! Now my pretty little simp patootie is especially a big fan of Dionysus and his gorgeous design so the cutscenes with him are my favorite.

I’m re-watching his cutscenes a few nights ago for fun as background when he has a certain line about Theseus. Don’t quote me on this since my memory is foggy at best but roughly it was: Dionysus: Good job with Theseus. Never cared much for him- what he did to that girl was just horrible.*

*I know that’s not his exact line but this is clearly a rant post fueled by spite and ADD-hyper-focused obsessions with ancient civilizations so let’s not worry too too much about the semantics here.

Now, I like mythology! Personally, I prefer the Norse mythology due to the general lack of very very gross dynamics that several other ancient mythologies seem to include, but I’m decently familiar with Greek mythos. Enough to go - “Why does the God of Wine give a single fuck about the frat bro of Greek heroes being a dick to a woman? Grossness is embedded into the very DNA of all distant relatives of Zeus, a woman being harassed by Zeus or his bastard army is a typical Tuesday in ancient Greece.”

Wikipedia confirms that Ariadne is the only woman in the story of Theseus and the Minotaur, which I kinda knew already so unless Theseus did some f’ed up shit to some other princess of Minos, Dionysus could only be referring to her. Disregarding what I know about Wikipedia and how it can suck you down the rabbit hole of rabbit holes through sheer fury I stupidly clicked the link to Ariadne’s article.

By the time we get to the end of this shitstorm, I will have two separate plotlines for two separate stories based of Ariadne, 2k+ notes (and going) on an ancient civilization prior to a week ago I didn’t know existed and within me there will be a rage towards a different ancient civilization I vaguely recall learning about in high school.

Here’s how this shit went down.

First of all, apparently after Theseus abandoned Ariadne on an island to die (yep! He did that! To the one person who is the only reason he defeated the minotaur! Fuck this guy.) there are multiple storylines where Dionysus takes a single look at Ariadne and falls in love.

“A god falls in love?” you say, aware of how most love stories in Greek mythos can be summed up with Unfortunately, Zeus got horny and Hera is a firm believer in victim blaming. “This poor woman is about to go through hell!” I thought so too! And in one variation of the story, Dionysus does his daddy proud by being an absolute tool to Ariadne. In the majority though? He woos the fuck out of her, and ultimately marries her by consent!

Her consent!

In ancient Greece!

The party dude of the Greek pantheon knows more about consent then his father and modern day frat brothers!

Okay! That’s interesting, so I keep reading.

Ariadne getting hitched to Dionysus is a big deal in Olympus, to the point of getting a crown made of the Aurora Borealis from Aphrodite who is bro-fisting Dionysus, beyond glad she didn’t have to give him the talk about consent. The rest of the gods are pissy especially Hera who doesn’t like Dionysus much since he is the son of Zeus and Semele but they don’t do much. Ariadne ascends to godhood, becomes the goddess of Labyrinths with the snake and bull as her symbol and that’s that on that.

Colorin, colorado, este cuento se acabado. And they lived happily ever after. That’s the end of the post right?

NO! Because curiosity has made me their bitch and there’s more to this calling me.

Also, I was pissed! Still am! Why the fuck-a-doodle-do did I have to learn about the time Poseidon r*ped a priestess instead of the arguably healthiest relationship in the entirety of the pantheon? Why is Persephone and Hades’ story (which has improved since it was first written and I like more modern versions of it, no hate) the only healthy-ish Greek love story I had to learn when Dionysus and Ariadne were right there? The rage of having endured several grade levels of “Zeus got horny and Hera found out” stories in the nightmare of public education led me to keep looking into this.

There’s this wonderful Youtube channel called Overly Sarcastic Productions that I highly recommend that delves a lot into mythology, and I have seen their bombass video about Dionysus and how his godhood has changed since he was potentially first written in a language we comprehend.

Did ya’ll know this man is the heir apparent to Zeus? ‘Cause I didn’t know that!

YEA! Dionysus, man of parties, king of hangovers and inducer of madness, is set to inherit the throne of Olympus! Ariadne didn’t husband up the God of Wine, she husbanded up the Prince of Olympus and heir apparent to the throne! Holy shit! No wonder some of the gods were against her marriage to Dionysus - can you imagine the drama of an ex-mortal woman sitting on the Queen’s throne of Olympus? Hera must have been pissed.

BUT WAIT.

There’s more.

The reason we know Dionysus is a very important god and is possibly even more important than we think is because of a handy-dandy language known as Linear B, otherwise known as the language of the Mycenaeans!

For those of you fortunate enough to have normal hobbies and interests, the Mycenaeans were the beta version of the Greeks. Their written language of Linear B is one of, if not the first recorded instance of a written Indo-European language. This language, having been translated, gives us an interesting look at what the Greek gods were like back in their beta-stages before they fixed the coding and released the pantheon.

Interesting side facts of the Mycenaean Greek gods include:

Poseidon being the head god with an emphasis on his Earthquake aspect, and being much more of a cthonic god in general.

Take that Zeus, for being so gross.

The gods in general being more cthonic, as Mycenaeans were obsessed with cthonic gods (probably due to all the earthquakes and natural disasters in Greece and Crete at that time)

Several of the gods and goddesses that we know being listed, alongside some that we don’t consider as important (Dione)

The first mention of Kore, later Persephone, but no Hades because since a lot of gods were cthonic, there would be no need for one, specific cthonic god to represent the majority of death-related rituals.

That’s not what we’re focusing on though! What we’re focusing on is a specific translated portion of Linear B that we have. One of the translated portions of Linear B that for the life of me I can’t find (someone please help me find it and send the link so I can edit this post) says an interesting phrase. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

One more time. “Honey to the gods. Honey to the Mistress of Labyrinths.”

Mistress of Labyrinths.

Now wait a gosh darn minute. Isn’t there a goddess of labyrinths in the Greek mythos? Why yes! Yes there is! Ariadne!

Here’s a question for you. If Ariadne is but a minor god in the pantheon, a wife to a more predominant god, why is it that while all the other gods and goddesses are bunched together in a sentence of praise, the so-called ex-mortal gets a whole-ass sentence to herself singing praises?

And thus, we have arrived to Minoa!

What is Minoa, you ask? Minoa is to Rome what Rome is to us. An old-ass civilization either older than or younger by a hundred years to ancient Egypt. Egypt, that started in 3200 B.C-ish depending on who you ask. That’s old. Old as balls. They were contemporaries to their trading partner, Egypt until 1450 BC-ish. A 2000 year old civilization.

Minoa was founded on the island of Crete, and was by what artifacts we have found a merchant civilization with its central economy centered on the cultivation of saffron and the development of bronze/iron statues of bulls. Most of what we know about them comes from artifacts and frescoes found on Crete that managed to survive everything else I will mention later, but what matters is that we know a few things about them.

Obsessed with marine life for some time, given their pottery.

Had the first palaces in all of Europe, some of them ridiculously big.

Wrote in Linear A and Cretan Hieroglyphs, both still untranslated languages.

Had a ritual involving jumping over a bull, for some reason.

Firm believers in “Suns out, Tits out.”

You’d think I’m kidding on the last one but no! No no no! All the women apparently rocked the tits-out look in Minoa!

^^^^One of many, many Minoan works featuring women giving their titties fresh air. ^^^^

“Wait a second Pinks! What does this have to do with Ariadne being the Mistress of labyrinths?”

Well you see dear wonderful darling, while we know very little about Minoan religion because Mycenaeans (we will get to those bastards in a second), we do know this:

All the religious figures appear to be exclusively women.

The most important figures of their religion seem to be goddesses as there are few artifacts featuring male gods.

Because of the religion, the culture may have been an equal society or even a matriarchy! Historians who are male aren’t sure.

A frankly ridiculous amount of their temples, including the ones in caves in the middle of fuck-all feature labyrinths. A lot of labyrinths!

Their head god is a goddess! Whose temples have labyrinths and whose main symbols are snakes and bulls. Who do we know is a) the mistress of labyrinths and b) is symbolized a lot by snakes and bulls?

ARI-fucking-ADNE THAT’S WHO!

Ariadne didn’t upgrade by marrying the prince of Olympus! Dionysus wifed up possibly the most important goddess in all of Crete and becoming her boy-toy!

I’m not even kidding, most Minoan depictions of the goddess’ consort features a boy/man who cycles through the stages of death. Dionysus himself in several myths goes through the same cycle - life, being crushed, death, rebirth, repeat. Cycles the consort goes through in Minoan legend depictions too!

Okay, that’s great, but what does that have to do with the Mycenaeans? Why do you want to single-handedly go back in time and strangle the beta-Greeks with the nearest belt?

Everything I just said about Ariadne being a Minoan goddess, the Mistress of Labyrinths being hella important on Minoa, is all theoretical. The Mycenaeans are partially to blame for making it theoretical.

Minoa thrived for 2000 years but it had a lot of issues, mostly caused by natural disasters. Towards the end of their civilization (1500 BC-ish), the nearby island of Thera, today known as Santorini, decided to blow up. The island was a hella-active volcano that when erupted, destroyed a lot.

How big was the eruption? Well when Pompeii was wasted by Mt. Vesuvius, the blast was heard from roughly 120 miles away, 200 km.

The blast on Thera was heard from 3000 miles away. 4800 km away.

Fuck me, the environmental effects of the explosion were felt in imperialistic CHINA.

Holy shit that would waste anybody! And it did! Minoa went from being a powerhouse in the Mediterranean to scrambling to recover from losing 40,000 citizens and who knows how many cities. Tsunamis may have followed the blast, further destroying ports which for a navy-powerhouse of an island nation is a bad thing and the theorized temperature drops caused by a cloud of ash lingering for a while would have destroyed crops for the year.

Minoa was fucked.

The Mycenaeans and all their bullshit made it worse.

Up until a few hundred years prior to Thera’s explosion, Minoan artifacts don’t depict much in terms of military power. Why would it? Crete is a natural defense post. Sheer cliffs, high mountains and a few semi-fortified areas would make it pointless to invade. It’s only when the Mycenaeans in all their bullshit decided to attack/compete that Minoa really needed any army to speak of.

Guess who decided to invade while Minoa was reeling from an incredibly shitty year? Mycenaea!

Guess who won?

Also Mycenaea!

Nobody knows how this shit went down though because wouldn’t you know it, the Mycenaeans in all their superiority-complex glory decided to destroy most written accounts about Minoa, a good junk of the temples and culturally eliminated most of Minoan beliefs.

Minoa isn’t even the real name of the civilization! It’s just the name Arthur Evans, the guy who re-motivate interest in Minoan archaeology, gave to the civilization because the writings that would have included the name of the civilization were destroyed.

“That sucks!” Fuck yes that sucks! “What does that have to do with Ariadne though?”

Oh ho ho. Strap in because you’re about to be pissed.

Those of us unfortunate enough to be aware of all the bullshit the Christians pulled on the European pagan belief system are familiar with the concept of cultural, religious destruction. There’s a special name for it I don’t know but if I did I would curse it to be absorbed by the horrendous will of fungi.

An example: Christianity was not the most popular of religions amongst the Vikings. A monotheistic religion that is heavily controlled did not strongly appeal to anyone with a pantheon as rad as the Norse one.

In order to appeal to the Vikings, what monks would do is they would write down traditionally Viking stories which up until that point were orally passed down. Beowulf, the story of the most Viking Viking to have every Vikinged, was one of these first stories.

However! Did these monks write Beowulf as closely to the original oral transcript as possible? Of course not! They took liberties! While Norse features such as trolls and dragons and all sorts of Norse magic occur, there is a lot of Christian features added in.

This happened across all Pagan religions that Christianity came into contact with in Europe. Stories would be altered when written down to be more Christian (this happened to the Greek Pantheon too btw), holidays that were Pagan magically lined up with ones the Vatican just happened to suddenly have. Even names of mythological figures were taken and added onto Christian figure names. Consequently, a lot of pagan religions they did this to got erased over time, with many of their traditions and details being lost forever, and the details we do know being tinted by Christianity.

The Mycenaeans were likely no different.

Minoa and Mycenaea were as culturally opposite as can be. Minoa is theorized to be a matriarchal or equal society*. Mycenaea and most of early Greece absolutely was not. In fact, during early stages of their religion where they believed in reincarnation, the Mycenaeans believed the worst thing to come back as was a woman.

Did you get that? With your options ranging from man to ever single animal on Earth, a woman was ranked as beneath literal animals in Mycenaean society.

Fuck the Mycenaeans.

* This is not to say Minoa was without fault, as a society that is matriarchal or equal can still have rampant issues such as privilege, classism, racism, sexism and more, but when history has a shortage of civilizations that didn’t treat women like shit, you find yourself rooting for them more.

What do you do then, when you take over a society that is very much the opposite of a nightmare of a patriarchy? You fold their beliefs into your own to bait them into yours. Going back to the Linear B line about “Mistress of Labyrinths” that line would/could have been an early tactic of incorporating Minoan belief into Mycenaean belief. Other goddesses and gods were made into aspects of Mycenaean gods. Bristomartis, the Minoan goddess of the hunt, would become Artmeis. Velchanos, a god of the sky, would become Zeus.

With more time, the religion shifted more into Mycenaean and eventually into ancient Greece as we know it. Through trade other gods and goddesses would continue to shift and change, some being straight up imported (Aphrodite for example). Dionysus himself changed a lot too, going from a God representing freedom and attracting slaves, women and those with limited power into his cult, to a God of parties for the wealthy.

Theseus and the Minotaur was a myth likely based on a Mycenaean myth based on a Minoan myth that changes Ariadne from an important, possibly the important goddess of an ancient religion and relegates her to a side character in a pantheon so vast that she would be lost within it.

All of this brings us to today. Today, where as soon as work ended I spent most of the day, as well as the past two days, looking up everything I can on Minoan civilization and added it to my notes. Spite is fueling me to write two possible different stories for two different fandoms where Minoa dunks of Mycenaea and it is giving me life. Expect an update within the next two weeks folks as I lose control of my writing life once more.

In summary: Ariadne deserves more respect, fuck the public education system for skipping over the good parts of Greek mythology instead of the r*pey as shit parts, the Mycenaeans can eat my shorts, and a world were Minoa became the predominant power instead of Greece would be an amazing world to live in.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. Pink out.

#minoa #minoan #crete #ancient history #ariadne #mycenaea #mycenaean #I hate #HATE #HATE HATE HATE the Greeks so much #homer is a dick #So much spite and curiosity went into this #if I ever get a time machine I will travel to the first years of Mycenaea for the express purpose of burning it to the ground before #they get a chance #the opportunity #to look at Minoa wrong

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lovingmyselfcore · 3 years

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i can go anywhere i want just not home

A fic based on My Tears Ricochet!! Highly recommend listening to the song while reading. Very angsty, it's if something happened and Aelin was forced out of Terrasen and had to fake her death. So yeah. I'm working on my Illicit Affairs one so that should be soon? No promises

**Not beta-read or anything we die like men here and I think I'm allergic to editing after 8pm so I can't be blamed if it's really bad

“Do it,” She spat, staring up at him - at all of them. Rowan was the only one who met her eyes, he didn’t flinch away from her, he never flinched away from her. Until recently, at least. There was a sort of comfort in knowing that she was horrible enough that Rowan Whitethorn had finally flinched.

She felt that achingly familiar lick of flame, starting at the base of her spine slowly curling up, lighting the hollows in her spine and bones, in her soul.

Something must be smoldering in her eyes because Rowan shifted, almost imperceptibly. Only being his mate and carranam did she recognize it for what it was. He’d shifted enough to have placed himself between them. Between her, Chaol, and Dorian.

With a bitter laugh, she spat again, “It’s come to this? You’re protecting them from me!” Her voice got shrill.

“Fireheart,” Rowan started but she cut him off.

“No. No. Don’t. You. Dare. Call me that.” It took all her years of training in hiding herself, of becoming other people, that allowed her to keep her voice steady.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to curl up in her massive bed, half sprawled against the comforting warmth of her husband, with Fleetfoot resting in her lap and a good book in one hand, the delicious chocolate hazelnut cake an elderly woman in town had learned to make just for her in the other. She wanted to go home.

But home was a long way from here.

Dorian shoved forward, elbowing past Rowan, ignoring Chaol’s muttered warning, and stopped once he and Aelin were nose-to-nose.

“We didn’t want to do this.”

She just hummed, not backing away from him.

Those flames still curled, ready for her to wield.

“This is better than the alternative,” Chaol spoke up and she and Dorian both moved to look at him.

She arched a brow and schooled her face into that indifferent arrogance she knew made nearly everyone see red. “The alternative? What was the alternative to forcing me to flee my kingdom I have fought so hard to keep and fake my own death with only,” She jabbed a finger at each of them, “You three knowing the details of what happened.”

“The alternative was taking away the fake part,” Dorian said, cold water to match her own burning flame.

She started, and against her better judgment, looked at Rowan. “You were going to,” She swallowed and tried very hard to ignore the agony in his gorgeous eyes. “Kill me?”

“If it makes you feel better, I don’t think anybody voted for that.” Dorian offered.

“Voted?” Her voice went shrill again and she saw Rowan twitch. “You all voted on what to do with me?”

“You couldn’t stay in Terrasen anymore, not after what you did, so yes. We voted.”

“And you three are the lucky bastards who have to force me out.”

“Force is only needed if you decide to fight us, Aelin,” Chaol said.

She ignored how pointed the words were, how they angered those festering embers.

“So Lorcan didn’t volunteer? I was sure he’d be the first to want to force me out of my own home and fake my death.”

“Nobody volunteered, Aelin. Nobody wanted this to be the way it went.”

“Hmm, well it seems someone did. Since we’re here, and all.” Her voice dropped low and she was suddenly talking only to Rowan. “Was what I did so unforgivable that you don’t love me anymore?”

He couldn’t look at her, this man, who used to look at her like the stars were born in her eyes, now couldn’t look her in the face. “I’ll always love you, Fi-” He cleared his throat, “Aelin. Don’t ever think I stopped but-” He looked like words had become too hard and merely stared at whatever his eyes were fixed on, somewhere behind her left ear.

Chaol and Dorian were both looking anywhere but at the two of them.

Looking at him in the dying sunlight filtering through the web of branches formed from ancient oak trees, the way his eyes glittered, the hard lines of him all highlighted, and his hair ruffled from the autumn wind, her resolve broke. She took a step, then another, then she was running. He caught her, swept her up, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

It was oddly reminiscent of a time long ago, in Adarlan. That, however, was a reunion. This was a goodbye.

Tears streaked down her face and he held her closer; as if trying to further commit all of her to memory. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whispered.

“I know. I am too.”

She pulled away first. He wiped her tears away with painstaking gentleness and kissed her forehead, “This may not be the end.” From his tone and the way he was looking at her, he believed it as much as she did. Which is to say, this is the end. “Promise me you’ll stay alive.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“Take care of Terrasen for me. They need you.”

He nodded, his hands still resting on her face, making no move to leave. “Where will you go?”

She shrugged helplessly, “Maybe I’ll bring Lillian back. I don’t know. I’ll just stay in the shadows for a few centuries, try and build a life where nobody knows me, nobody knows Terrasen.”

He nodded again and slowly dragged his hands from her face. She was the one that was ‘dying’ but he looked ready to keel over himself. He took a few unsteady steps backward and stooped to pick up a backpack they’d brought. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily, slinging it along her back.

She turned and looked at Dorian and Chaol, biting her lip. She wanted them to hurt, she wanted them to feel the betrayal she felt. Not a sting, no, she felt like she’d been stabbed. And as someone who had been stabbed many times before, she felt confident in her analogy. But they were her friends, once.

Make them hurt a voice whispered deep from inside her. She clenched her fists and felt the flames bubbling up.

Aelin. Rowan. In her head.

She breathed in deeply and nodded to them once, they nodded back. She acknowledged the pain in their eyes with not a small amount of satisfaction.

She took off sprinting into the forest and didn’t look back.

~~~~~~

They were walking back to Terrasen, they’d let Aelin off at the border.

“Rowan,” Dorian laid a hand on his arm, “Are you-”

He shrugged the young king off and shifted, taking to the skies, as far from them, from anyone, as he could get.

“We made the right decision, right?” Dorian’s voice was so strained it cut at Chaol’s heart.

“Yeah, yes. This was the right choice. The only choice.”

He nodded, but Chaol could tell the doubts lingered. As long as Aelin was out there, on her own, free but never allowed to return home, the doubts would always linger.

~~~~~~

Her knees buckled not far from where she’d taken off running from the three of them. She flew forward, throwing her hands out and scraping her palms along the rocks as slid to a stop. She tried to breathe, ragged, shaking breaths, as she tried to calm her mind. The world blacked-out around the edges and a whimper fell from her mouth. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t fucking do this.

A weak scream ripped from her throat and she dug her hands harder into the rocks, they sliced her palms open, warm blood trickling into the grass.

She tried to wrangle the fire, she tried to use the tactics Rowan had taught her what felt like lifetimes ago, but just like it had which led to her being here, she couldn’t control it.

It didn’t explode like she thought it would, it bubbled. Like lava in a volcano, it bubbled out of her, hot smoldering fire, trickling down her face like tears, tracing lines along her body like blood. It covered the grass around her and spread, her cry was futile. It burnt straight through some of the ancient oak trees, bringing them down and melting them entirely into the earth.

Despite the chaos around her, despite that first anguished cry, she knelt in the dirt. Wind ripped her hair away from her face as she burned the world around her, nobody could say Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius went out gracefully.

~~~~~~

Despite the initial burning at the border, no sign of Aelin had surfaced. He had to give her credit, the woman knew how to disappear. The thought sent an ache through him, intensifying what was already there.

He’d been like some kind of ghoul, Lorcan and Fenrys traded shifts watching over him, making sure he bathed and ate. Someone always sat at his bedside with him, waking him when the nightmares took him. Nightmares that Aelin was still held captive by Maeve. When they resurfaced, the first night his hand had shot out, seeking a warm body that wasn’t there. He’d flown into a fit of panic until someone had brought someone in. One of the women, Elide, maybe? They had calmed him enough to tell him Aelin wasn’t with Maeve. They weren’t in the war anymore. He remembered where Aelin was. That he didn’t know where Aelin was, only that he had sent her away. In some ways, that hurt worse.

Most of them had moved into the castle and would stay until most of Terrasen, until Rowan, settled enough to be left. Most of them were Lords and Ladies, however, so they alternated. One week Elide would stay at the castle, the next week Lorcan would. The same went for Aedion and Lysandra. He knew it hurt them, being separated like that, but they never once complained. Rowan hadn’t entirely been paying attention when they had decided how Aelin’s ‘death’ had happened, but they’d fabricated a story and spread it. Today was her funeral, nearly a month after she had left - since they’d made her leave - and Terrasen’s people had been in mourning ever since. They would be for a long while, but not nearly as long as Rowan would be.

He wasn’t sure what woke up, it wasn’t even dawn, but his eyes fluttered open. He oriented himself with what - who - surrounded him. Fleetfoot, that damned dog, was at his feet. She hadn’t taken Aelin’s spot, as if hoping she would be back. There was another animal asleep near the foot of the bed, on the floor, Lysandra or Fenrys, and he watched their chest slowly rise and fall and matched his own to it. His heart had been racing. Maybe that’s what woke him, an unseen nightmare.

He crept past the sleeping figure, probably Lysandra then, not as attuned to his every move like he knew Fenrys was.

He slipped out onto the balcony and was struck with the memory of the time Aelin had woken him and he had found her staring with tear-filled eyes at the Kingsflame blooming across those rolling hills.

He surveyed those same hills, the sleeping town below, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on the railing until he was close to tumbling off the edge and stayed there in silence for a long while before speaking. “Damn it Aelin!” He was nearly sobbing, he had no idea when the tears had started. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight harder? Gods,” He broke off and slumped down, unable to speak thanks to the sobs wracking through him. “Please stay,” He nearly whimpered. “I know it’s too late but please, Fireheart, I need you. I need you.”

He fell asleep there, on the balcony, soothed by the beat of his heart. A beat that sounded suspiciously like an echo of Aelin’s fingers dancing along the pianoforte, drawing out a sound she commanded while quietly singing a lullaby she had told him her mother sang to her when she couldn’t sleep.

His eyes closed and he could’ve sworn her voice carried on the wind, that lullaby, followed by a nearly inaudible, “I love you, Rowan. I love you.”

~~~~~~

Half the time she slept in the forest like some kind of wild animal, the other half of the time she disguised herself and found some disgusting tavern to sleep in. She had no idea where she was anymore, she was just wandering aimlessly. She was currently sitting on the roof of one of said taverns. It reminded her painfully of her days as an assassin. She stared up at the stars, unblinking, the night wind was cold and stung her face but she was past caring. Up here, she took off the glamour, becoming Aelin again.

“Do you miss me, buzzard?” She asked the stars. “I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.” She shook her head and laughed angrily. “You became everything you didn’t want to, didn’t you? You bastard.” Her voice was getting louder with each word. “To whatever end? Right.” Angry tears streaked her face for what was definitely not the first time. “I’ve listened around enough that I learned my funeral is tomorrow.” She didn’t even know what she was doing anymore, besides pacing on a roof and shrieking at the sky. “Maybe I’ll stop in, I’ve always wanted to see my own funeral.” She jabbed an angry finger at a star she had deemed was Rowan’s stand-in. “I hope you make it worthy of me, you bastard. Gods, I hope you know me enough to make it as me as you can.” She blew a kiss at that star and something in her cracked, “I love you, Rowan Whitethorn. I shouldn’t, not anymore, but I do.”

She pulled her glamor back on and jumped down from the roof, landing on her feet with practiced ease. “Let’s see if I can make my own funeral, hmm?”

~~~~~~

It was as outrageous as Aelin would have wanted. Everyone was miserable, even those within the inner circle who knew what had really happened. Most everyone was here, except for all the royals within Erilea, and every other land Aelin had touched.

Music flourished from every corner, musicians from all over had come to play pieces for her, in honor of her. It was like some kind of twisted wedding, the way everyone turned when the royals entered. The leaders that Aelin had not known as personally entered first, stopping individually to give impersonal speeches about her. Then Galan entered. He knelt before the basically-shrine honoring her. “You were one of the greatest Queens this world has ever seen, cousin.” He cleared his throat, “You were so much more than all your titles give you credit for, and that’s saying a lot. You were so full of life and energy and,” A broken laugh. “Fire. You burned bright, Aelin. And now that you’re ash, we’re ash too.” He cleared his throat again and stayed kneeling next to the other leaders, murmuring words meant only for him and his cousin.

Manon entered next, she knew the truth but despite that, her eyes were rimmed an angry red. She stood next to Galan, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.” She went silent for a moment before sinking to her knees. Everyone gasped. Family knelt, but other than that no leader, especially not a witch, knelt. “You-” She broke off and bowed her head, curling her hands into fists at her side.

When it was clear Manon wasn’t going to finish, Dorian entered. He knelt beside Manon (cue another gasp) his mouth moved, but it was only for him and Aelin. The goodbye he hadn’t had the chance to say in that forest.

Nesryn and Sartaq strode in, Sartaq didn’t speak, but Nesryn did. Her voice carried, unwavering. “No King or Queen is perfect, but Aelin was pretty damn close. She and I were never the closest but,” She hesitated and Sartaq reached for her hand, “She believed in me. She never looked down on me because I was human, and wasn’t in any huge position of power, and that faith in me never changed even when I became,” She gestured at her and Sartaq, at her dress, “Aelin mattered in a way that not many people have ever mattered. She will be remembered, for her fire and power, for what she’s done, but also how she has a soft spot for dogs and chocolate,” A few wet laughs, “How she loves music and theater, how kind she is to everyone.” The crowd nodded their agreement, there wasn’t a soul that wasn’t crying. “You did it. You made your mark.” She bowed her head and it was clear she was done.

Rowan was last, Goldryn in his hands. He laid in with pain-staking gentleness at her shrine. He stepped back and opened his mouth as if about to speak. His fingers fiddled with the ring on one finger. The ring Aelin had given him that he hadn’t taken off. That he would never take off. “Damn you,” He said finally. “Damn you, Aelin.” He bowed his head to hide from the crowd and someone moved, Elide. She came up to him, murmured a few quiet words, and led him to kneel next to Sartaq. She waited a few moments before returning to her spot.

The music rose as everyone knelt, heads bowed, before their dead Queen. It was ghostly, the way they knelt in total silence, besides their tears. Aelin was going to haunt everyone, for a very, very long time.

If anyone had been looking, they would have seen a female figure in the trees, slipping away as quietly and quickly as she could, tears flowing freely at the love everyone held for her.

“Goodbye,” She whispered. Well, looks like she could make a graceful disappearance after all.

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taerseok · 4 years

Text

Alice in the Madness of Wonderland: The Stygian Fairytale | Walkthrough

↳ Banner and dividers made by @kim-seok-jin. Thank you ^^.

✉ Titles:

➝ Alice in the Madness of Wonderland: The Stygian Fairytale

➝ Stygian (the madness corrupts me, and you, my saviour)

Though Alice ‘Y/N’ Liddell is overshadowed, and she doesn’t seem to think much of it, she yearns for a world which notices her- gives her a chance- a part of her wanting for a turn to be on the pedestal. But of course, nothing can change that-

Or can it?

One chance encounter with a boy with bunny ears and a strange hole, and she arrives at the world of Wonderland- a world of magic, mystery and madness. Protecting her life is one thing, but-

What more when everyone seems determined to capture her heart?

Take care, Alice…

✉ Information:

➠ Pairing: Seokjin × reader, Yoongi × reader, Hoseok × reader, Namjoon × reader, Jimin × reader, Taehyung × reader, Jungkook × reader, OT7 × reader

➠ Genres: Angst, fantasy, alice in wonderland!au, reverse harem, isekai (teleported to a fantasy world), mystery

➠ Overall Rating: PG-18

➠ Warnings: Violence, suicide, comatose, disturbing scenes, weapons, fights, yandere, insanity, mental illnesses, torture, massacre, serial killers, violent riots, executions, murders, large amount of people die, stalking, people lead other people on, threats, madness (but it’s wonderland so), tea parties and the white rabbit

✉ Character Profiles:

⇢ March Hare ‘ღ’

⇢ Ace of Hearts ‘ღ’

⇢ King of Hearts ‘ღ’

⇢ Cheshire Cat ‘ღ’

⇢ Clockmaker ‘ღ’

⇢ Mad Hatter ‘ღ’

⇢ White Rabbit ‘ღ’

✉ Beta-player [a.k.a. me, blog writer and walkthrough maker!] comments:

Several crashes may occur while playing the game, as the developers told me. This is still a beta version of the game, after all! The game also contains a lot of violence… hrmm, well, you’ll see for yourself. I’ve been told not to give too many spoilers, but the developers hinted to me that as the player, we have a special power!

If you complete a route, you don’t have to continue to the next one. You can pick whichever route you’re on and make it your true end. When that option pops out in the game, and you pick yes, Wonderland will close, and Alice and her suitor will be able to leave! It’s our choices while reading that matter!

Or… at least that’s what they said. Still, I’d warn you guys to be careful in choosing! This game is tricky, and it has several bad ends too… ah, I shouldn’t spoil anymore. This is an online game, so I put the links below if you want to play the beta version too! Careful though~ It links straight to the prologue, so for any players replaying, just choose the route after!

Oh, and one last thing- though all of the main cast are dateable characters; it’s of course, only one character per route though… or is it? Hehehe!

If you go through all routes, you might get a secret ending! Bonus scenes! So complete the full game when it comes out, okay?

No, the developers totally didn’t ask me to say all that to promote the game~

Have fun playing, and I hope this walkthrough helps you!

Reader discretion advised.

✉ Map:

Ah, this is the Wonderland we, as the player, will fall into! Do you see the different emblems across the land? Those are the villages under the influence of the roleholders! Oh… was that too much information? I don’t think I was supposed to reveal the concept of roleholders yet… ah well! You’ll just have to see for yourself.

Putting the villages to the side for now though, you should have a look at the main buildings first.

The little building on top of the mountain on the top left is the Hatter Mansion! It’s where you’ll meet the Mad Hatter, the March Hare, and many other questionable friends!

The place below the teapot emblem - the red state you’re seeing belongs to the King of Hearts. It’s the Hearts Castle! Here, reside the King, and his two faithful followers, the Ace of Hearts and the White Rabbit.

The tower a little way from the middle of the map is the Clocktower. It’s where the Clock Maker lives.

The last, but definitely not the least, place is where you’ll see the Cheshire Cat roaming around. It’s the colorful Amusement Park at the top right of the map! Make sure to go there sometime in your journey in Wonderland.

Now, I’ll try giving an overview of each village. These areas can be visited within the game in the routes, and often, you’ll see an important event revolving around them in the story.

Let’s go over the villages under the rule of the King of Hearts first.

See the emblem with the two keys? That’s Book End! It’s known for its loyalty to the crown, and the people there strictly obey their king. It’s also treated better than the other town under the rule of Kim Seokjin. Some say it’s because of its size being larger than the other’s, but most argue that it’s the result of his poor administration.

The village just above Book End, with the heart emblem is the town that mostly passes by through the shadows! It’s called Hearts’ Eve, and because of the people not being treated equally, many citizens from here have risen to protest against the king. They went as far as to call the Mad Hatter for help, hence the place is always in a state of political unrest.

The emblem with the teapot on the far left denotes Pekoe Town, so far the only village under the influence of the infamous Mad Hatter, Kim Taehyung. The people here live quite peacefully… if you forget the rare murder of a secret Hearts supporter here and there! The place is very well guarded, if I remember correctly.

Tulgey Wood Town falls almost in the middle of the map. Its emblem has the green tree to symbolise the priority of the citizens - nature, and side by side, peace. It’s an independent state, but often has its matters overlooked by the tedious Clock Maker, Kim Namjoon, and the mischievous Cheshire Cat, Min Yoongi.

The other independent village is the one with the flower emblem! It’s called Hatter’s North for being north of the Mad Hatter’s state. I vaguely recall many people being in support of Kim Taehyung here, even if the village isn’t under his influence. Its works are still managed by Namjoon and Yoongi.

This was a lot of information to take in, so I don’t blame you if you’re confused on how to remember it! Just try giving this walkthrough a look if you’re puzzled about the general geography of Wonderland, and I’m sure it’ll ease your troubles~

To bring this to an ending note, I must add what I’ve been told about this world by the developers themselves:

‘As silly and nonsensical Wonderland portrays itself to be, some things will truly never change. Over the centuries of generations, the land has survived numerous generations of war and love- and has stayed the same. The edges may have faded, and the map itself may look worn out, but take heed, Alice... for there lies mysteries and secrets in every nook and cranny of this world…’

Good luck, new players and old ones alike!

⇢ Preview the Prologue here.

╔═══════ ೋღ 🥀 ღೋ ═══════╗

[Would you like to start the game?]

[Yes] [No]

╚═══════ ೋღ 🥀 ღೋ ═══════╝

✉ Routes:

[Routes are still in development, please visit from time to time to check for a new update.]

✉ Sidestory:

[Sidestories will be available after the release of the full game, please look forward to them.]

134 notes · View notes

aloera · 3 years

Note

The ask prompt is too long to fit into an ask TT_TT but here's the doc for it docs(.)google(.)com/document/d/1yDI7iFRhOJ8ENv_IwZAo3rDSUqj80EiJROS10RzRbj4/edit

the lengths u are going for this,,, much appreciated you're very sweet!!!

prompts + answers under the cut!!

INTRODUCTION

Name: aloera

AO3 account: aloera

Fandoms you write for: bnha

How many stories have you written so far: 19

FANFICTION PROFILE

What's your favorite fandom to write for? hmm,,, used to do pjo and eah (ever after high) and eah was fun as fuck i will say!!! i think bnha is my fav mostly bc i made the most friends in this fandom :D

What's your favorite character/person to write for? bkg and kirishima!! cannot choose do not make me <3

Fic you'd want to improve? probably what we deserve? i rushed the beginning and the confession is a bit stilted imo

Hardest fic you've written? between lion and men -_- bc there is so much canon compliant stuff i've gotta write out before i get to the divergence and its HARD

Easiest fic you've written? come home to me!!! it happened so easily,,, no second guessing no writers block just vibes <33 was lovely i miss it

What would you say is the most "famous" fic you've ever written? also probably come home to me? its got the most interaction

first line of the first fic you've ever written and published. [not including my 2014 ffnet fics] "The bell rings, class starts, and Katsuki and Midoriya are inexplicably absent." from come home to me

Have you ever done a collab with another writer? yes!!!!! on two separate occasions and its so fucking fun i highly recommend trying it out its the best

Do you beta? if asked but honestly im a shit beta lmao

Do you like joining fic fests/exchanges? depends on what i have going on irl but in general yeah!!

FANFICTION PREFERENCES

Fluff or angst? definitely fluff

"OCs" or "Reader" inserts? reader inserts!! have been going ham on them recently

Blurbs or drabbles? blurbs!!

One thing you love about fanfiction i just. i really love slice of life romance?? and most media doesn't give you that bc its dedicated to plot and action and that's valid!! but fanfiction fills in the gap which is really nice

One thing you don't like about fanfiction most of the stuff i don't like is less about actual fanfiction and more about how people behave about it

What is/are your favorite fandom author/authors? IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! TURN IT UP!!!

bnha: hiuythn, rae_tnub, Moniix, Ata_Lanta, wrunic, chezka, PurplePersnickety, surveycorpsejean, mahadevi, arxaris, deviance, Oceanbreeze7, MikeWritesThings, bonnia, wonhaebunny, dinosuns

voltron: hiuythn, Oceanbreeze7, DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee, arahir, dinosuns,

and honorable mention to loveclouds im not even in the haikyuu fandom i just love their fics So Much

these are just the ones off the top of my head i have so many favourites idc if i'm only supposed 2 have one!! die mad about it!!!

What is your favorite trope? secret relationship + relationship reveal til the day i die babie <3 <3

Least favorite trope? hm,,, probably just like. angst lmao i cannot stand 90% of it

A fanfiction cliché that you can't help but love? coffeeshop aus,,,, so good

Do you have a type when it comes to pairings? the otp where its like. piece of shit + himbo = love. ex. krbk, catradora, jade/beck

Favorite setting/au? hm,,, truly i cannot pick one KGKSJNHKj but i really like college aus!! and modern aus!! and roommate aus!!

Explain the meaning of your favorite line of dialogue you've written as if someone hasn't read it in context. “He doesn’t know,” Katsuki says, softly. “My timer stopped and nothing happened. He’s not mine.”

the line is from what we deserve!! it's a soulmate au where your timer counts down to the moment that you meet your soulmate!! bakugou's timer ends at USJ when he and kirishima attack kurogiri at the same time (impulsive kings <33) but kirishima's timer doesn't end until kamino because that's when he accepts himself as bakugous soulmate!! unfortunately, when bakugous timer has reached 0, he turned to see that kirishima's was still ticking and therefore believes that kirishima isn't his soulmate.

this line just,, idk. it's really sad. bakugou is such an action-driven character? if something doesn't go his way he Makes it go his way. he's got this insanely volatile quirk and he's got impeccable control of it!! but his love for kirishima isn't something that he can change and he's not going to ruin kirishima's chance of finding his own soulmate because he loves him and wants him to be happy. i really wanted to focus on how resigned he is? and how unusual that is for a character like him.

Favorite trope/genre to write? again, secret relationship with relationship reveals <33 fluff in general is my wheelhouse!!!

A trope/genre you haven't written but think would be a fun challenge? idk if this counts?? have been working on some dead dove concepts!! its super different from what i normally write so its a cool challenge

The one trope/concept you'll never touch and why probably cheating/infidelity?? it just looks,,, super difficult to write well and i don't have enough of an interest in it to try it out

Which do you prefer to write: longer or shorter fics? shorter!! low attention span gang <3

Ideal length to read? 5-10k?

Ideal length to write? 4-8k!!

How long was the longest fic you've ever written? control fraek is around 28k i think?

Have you ever written an AU? yeah!! i've done restaurant au's, soulmate au's, pro hero aus, and fantasy aus (general, not the bnha fantasy ending)

What's your favorite AU trope? hm,, probably when two people in authority are in a secret relationship? ceo's/uni professors/etc etc

Have you ever written smut? yeah!! was. difficult tho

What's your comfort genre? (the one you fall on most in writing/reading) fluff,,, hurt/comfort,,, fix-it fics with happy endings <3

If you were to start writing in other fandoms, which would they be? maybe jjk?? the characters are really cool!!!! fr i might go back to my ever after high roots i love the characters and setting so Much its so fun!!! idec if no ones into it anymore!!!!!

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? i've had people say they saw the mention of buff hagakure and recognized it was me so. probably that skdjhnksjd

WRITING STYLE

How would you describe your style? i tend to use shorter sentences and pretty simple words i think? and i gravitate towards lighthearted concepts that allow for ensemble casts and humour!!

Describe your style in three words romcom but fanfic

Favorite words to use when writing? the word reverent!! fuckin love including it!!

Dialogue tags or no dialogue tags? (she said, he said, they said, etc) dialogue tags!!!

Favorite dialogue tag (other than said, if you use them) again idk if this counts but "they said softly" is unmatched

Long sentences vs short vs a mix short <33

What colors would you use to describe your writing? hm,,, depends on the fic i would say?? control fraek is dark green to me?? kinda like a forest at night yk?? scary but there's still life there. sugar cookies is yellow like early morning sunlight, when it rains is yellowy-orange like a caution sign. not gonna list all of them cause theres a lot its just. do u get it? the colours change based on the vibe of the fic.

What song or music genre would you use to describe your writing? think. i am constantly trying to emulate that moment at the end of wasteland baby when hozier goes "im in love/im in love with you."

What kind of metaphors do you rely on? religious metaphors my beloved <33 they're just so pretty!!! i also love comparing stuff to water for some reason?? like that ocean vuong quote thats like "what are you now?/water." it goes hard!!!

What's something you'd say is experimental in your writing at this time? definitely action!! i have,,, no idea how to write it so anything i do is really just me playing around and seeing what works and what doesn't

Do you prefer to write by hand or to type? i've tried both!! personally i prefer typing because it goes way faster but i will say that writing by hand lets me get words down when i'm going through writer's block

What is your preferred place to write (notebook, laptop, cellphone, etc.)? laptop!!

What app/apps do you use to write (word, notepad, etc.)? google docs skjdnkjh its fine on desktop but mobile is,,,,, disgusting

Do you keep a notebook or file/notes page in your phone/device for notes on your writing? ngl i just have everything organized in my drive?? one folder per fandom and then sub folders for ideas+hcs, unfinished wips, and finished fics. multichaps get sub sub folders so i can organize outlines and drafts

Do you listen to music to help you write? yeah!! playlists organized by fic vibe :D

Where do you usually go to write (bedroom, living room, etc.)? mostly in my bedroom??? but moving around to different stops helps too i think!!

How long does it usually take for you to write? again this depends on what i have going on irl, how attached i am to the idea, my mindset at the time, etc!! i am,, the least consistent person skjnhdkjh.

What's your favorite font to use when writing? times new roman my beloved

Other writing habits? sometimes i'll write in the dark?? bad for my eyes but for some reason it gets the words flowing

CONCEPTUALIZATION

How do you conceptualize your ideas? (See specific moments like they're a movie, writing specific lines in your head, don't know until you put the words on paper, etc.) i tend to get inspiration from movies, books, poems, or other fics!!! sometimes one line just makes me go oh,, i want to write something like that,,, and then it helps me create an idea that makes me feel the same way?? i did this with control fraek!!!! i wanted a scenario where bakugou was cold and calculating and i was like hm. to do that he’d have to be focusing on something important. and from there i was able to flesh out the rest of the idea.

Which comes first: the pairing or the plot? with krbk its always always the pairing,, i'll be sitting there like wow <33 i love them <33 what if one of them had amnesia <33 (which, yes, wip!!) otherwise it's usually the plot!! and i slot in characters that i feel make sense

Have you ever used a prompt? yeah!! used a prompt for wlw week 2020 and it was fun as hell

Do you write around the story around a specific scene you want to get to or do you start from a plot idea definitely the first!!!! i almost always write like,,, a super messy scene thats 90% dialogue, keep it in my head, and then write the entire fic around that one moment

Do you find that you include a projection of some part of yourself in the way you write a character? a lot of the time when i write love confessions or love in general i'll have one of the characters think or say that the other person makes their head quiet? and it's because that's what i feel whenever i'm in love?? a quiet mind. i project on characters yeah but i think most of the projection actually goes to the way that i write love

Do you research some of the things you write deeply, partially and kind of wing the rest, or play entirely by ear (in this case, go with whatever base knowledge of the subject you have)? most of the time if i do research it'll be about the setting (ex. the izakaya in to have and to hold) or if i'm having the characters interact with an object that they like. need to know how to use (me, in control fraek: google. hey google. does someone die if they get shot in the foot??? no???? awesome thank u <3)

Have you ever had an idea for a story and forgot about it? lmaoo yeah all the time i'll find like 500-2k words of concepts in my gdocs like i do. not remember this at all

Is there a trope you think you could be easily recognized by in your writing? probably krbk secret relationship lmao

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out better than expected? yeah!! i fully thought the action in control fraek would be awful but it turned out not bad??? which im happy with

Are there concepts you've tried that turned out worse than you expected? again, what we deserve, i personally think it would have worked out better if i'd paced it slower and drawn out the pining but i. do not feel like going back to fix it so its staying the way that it is. pining is so fucking hard to do AHHHH i get so tired with it!!! im like just date already!!!!

PROCESS

How do you come up with titles? in rare occasions (literally. all my multichaps for some reason) the title comes after writing like .5 words of the first chapter im like YES this is it!!!!! sometimes i write the whole thing and pick out one line that fits (what i did with come home to me) a lot of the time i just. steal from songs or poems that i like

What's your favorite emotion to cause on your readers? i like making people happy!!!! love when people comment saying they're cheered up

What's your favorite emotion to write? lovelovelovelovelovelove

Have you ever cried or felt any emotion while reading something you've written? never cried?? but sometimes i'll rereading my hurt/comfort fics 4. yk. comfort

Do you write in order or whatever comes to you? in order!! unless i have a scene that i Need to write and i'll quickly jot it down so that i don't forget

Usual way you procrastinate while writing? ...doing asks like this, making playlists, discord, watching netflix. what don't i do smh

Do you outline or free write? i am. so shit at outlines. i mostly free write and write lil notes for stuff that i wanna add later

Do you set word goals or scene goals (scenes you want to include)? yes!! like i said i'll write loose notes for scenes that i want to add later!! it gives me something to write towards :D

What do you consider when writing your scenes? what goes into making the atmosphere and mood you want? to set a scene i do two things? the first is like,, the five senses bc that always sets the scene really well and makes it feel Real. i'll visualize stuff in my head like its a movie and write out what i would want to tell the set designer?? if the lights are low, if the space is busy, if it's supposed to exude comfort or not.

for putting forward the character's mood one thing i've found that makes a difference is sentence length!! long sentences are good for making a character seem flustered and nervous or not really in control of their emotions? good for love confessions. short sentences are good for when the character is focused on something or short on time. good for fights!!

What's something you never considered to include in your writing that you can't leave out now? def buff hagakure,,,, once i thought of it i was like. if i don't include this at least once in every single fic how could i look at myself in the mirror!!!!!! how could i face anyone!!!!

How do you start a story? establishing a fact about the character or describing the setting! option a is one single thread of gold, option b is between lion and men

How do you end a story? either by tying it back to the beginning or doing like a funny kind of closing??? option a is sugar cookies, option b is a godless society

How do you get out of writer's block? change something!! move something!! i go from typing to handwriting, moving from my bedroom to my living room, switching wips to work on something else!! i do sprints as well?? give myself like fifteen minutes to write something and sometimes 200 words opens up the way for another 2k. sometimes i'll just delete like 500 words and start fresh

Do you edit? or do you toss your writing out there? i edit!!! i'll go over it myself then send it to one or two betas (bee my beloved <33)

How do you edit? do you use spellcheck, grammar checkers, etc? bee is my grammar checker bc he is So Good with grammar. i use grammarly as well for spellcheck stuff mostly?? sometimes my edit process is just like "am i tired of looking at this!! yes <3" and then i post it

PROGRESS

Do you usually like what you write? yeah!!! i post stuff that makes me happy and that i'm fine with rereading!!! i write stuff for self-indulgence reasons first and foremost and i think my writing reflects that sjhnksj

Have you ever written something you didn't like but posted anyways? nope!! even what we deserve i LIKED even if i see a lot of room 4 improvement!! if i don't like smth it's not getting posted

Do you find yourself rereading your writing often? yeah!! the reason i wrote so much krbk secret relationship is because i loved it but i'd read all that there was so i just,, wrote more,, ngl its kinda nice being in a place where i actually like my writing bc i can write stuff that i want to see and really enjoy it!!

Can you tell us anything about your current WIP? sure!! i'm currently working on when it rains which is a fic where bakugou gets hit by a crying quirk!! i'm gonna be using it to explore So Much of all might's character and his relationships with bakugou and aizawa (and i think some people from his past!!)

Can you give us a sneak peek on your current WIP? “You did something. What the hell did you do?” Kirishima sounds pissed off. It would amuse Katsuki if he wasn’t fighting just to stay standing.

“Nothing he didn’t ask for,” Shinsou replies.

“K’ri… shima,” Katsuki croaks out. “‘S fine. Not him.”

His chest collapses back into the familiar dry heaving after that but Kirishima shuts up. He doesn’t apologize to Shinsou.

Kirishima’s a good friend, stubborn and loyal. He stands by Katsuki’s side like an attack dog, blocking him from the view of anyone ogling at his tears.

The last line you've written Ochako knows more than she'd realized. She knows enough to keep her guard up.

It’s not enough.

Open a wip. what’s the first line?

Katsuki wakes up feeling like absolute fucking shit.

INSIGHT

What's your favorite thing about writing? touched on this before but it's mainly just being able to write the things that i want to see and actually enjoy them!!! actually reread them!!!! i thought "wouldn't it be cool if bkg and kirishima owned a restaurant together" and then i wrote it and i like it enough to reread it!!!! being able to create content for myself makes me. so happy

How do you keep yourself inspired? this is gonna sound narcissistic maybe but honestly i'm just really excited about my ideas and where i'm gonna take them and the idea of "i'm gonna get to That scene" keeps me going through the entire thing. also my friends!!!! i'll talk to them about fics and their reactions keep me hyped up enough to finish!!!!

What is your favorite thing to write? just,, slice of life romance,,, stuff thats silly and makes people laugh!!

What do you think your strengths are in writing? i'm good with dialogue!! i do lil voice acting sessions with myself to make sure everything sounds natural and like it's coming from that character skhjnskj

i'm comfortable with my portrayal of love as well??? i spend a lot of time thinking about what it is exactly that i'm trying to get across and i think it turns out well!!

What are things you wish you could practice more? on one hand i wanna get better at writing angst on the other hand i dislike writing angst. do you see my issue

One way you've improved your writing since you began? characterization!! i think i've gotten better at writing characters that are all Different and bring different things to the table!!! i used to project a lot more and it would compromise the characterization because the character was like 70% me and 30% them? not to say that projection is bad but if you do it too much it just,, doesn't read like the character and from a reader's standpoint the narrative can become less compelling

One aspect of writing you're still working on? writing action!!! i. literally hate writing it but i write for a fandom about superheroes so. Unfortunately i gotta learn.

A piece of writing advice you've learned while writing saw this on another tumblr post but they said sometimes if you're struggling with a scene, the problem is five lines back. i've found that to be true!!!! sometimes u gotta delete a chunk and start a little ways back!! i did this with too busy being yours because i was stuck for Weeks and i deleted like 25% of what i had but it helped me actually finish it :D

A bit of writing advice you can't stand when people shit on show don't tell for being overrated lmao bc when u read their writing you can Tell

Something you wish you knew when you first started writing? ,,,,honestly i kind of wish i could know some of the stuff that i used to when i first started writing?? technically i'm better now but creatively i was must better when i wasn't stressing about whether anyone would like what i was writing. so i guess i wish i knew that i should keep that confidence? i kinda wish that i wasn't as insecure about other people's writing styles because i never used to be!!

Something you've learned in life that you apply in writing there's no point in feeling inferior?? writing one genre isn't better than the other. being in one fandom isn't better than being in another. the kind of language you use or the length of your paragraphs- none of that stuff like. matters. what matters is that you're having fun and happy with what you're creating!!!! enjoy other peoples writing but don't let it make you feel worse about yours :D

#AHH ive wanted to answer these for so long...... bro fr i was so happy when u sent these!!! like wow!! finally got sent one!!!#sorry for how long the responses are idk how to be concise #asks #anon #a(lore)a

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sadviper · 3 years

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2020 Creator Wrap: Favorite Works

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 (or so) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Succumbing to peer pressure, haha, thank you @rain-hat, @smylealong, @ibelongtomousse, @macgyver-sheriff, @avauntus for tagging me~

It seems the common refrain is that this was the year everyone exploded into massive creative productivity after years of nothing, which is the exact same story for myself. I had read all the strategies of course: write 5 min a day, 1 sketch a day, don’t think about quality, do *something* just to keep the spark alive, etc etc, but it just got worse and worse. Honestly, I had been feeling so dire about it that I had made up my mind to stop trying anymore, because it was so depressing to try and fail so many times that it was much better to not hope at all.

Buuuuut.....then quarantine and telework happened, and woooah, guess what, all I needed was LOTS of time and space to myself where I’m not wasting it in an office checking emails and doing random training to fill all the downtime!!!

Much thanks to the serendipity that had me stumbling into @rain-hat , reading her early JY/KSR fics, and her encouraging me to go ahead and write that office yearly budget oneshot for TKEM (who writes BUDGET fics?? Who reads them???? lol). That’s not in my list here because it was very new and awkward, it was definitely the ball that got everything rolling.

Cut for super long-winded rambling:

1) Before There Was Zero (TKEM)

This was my first big fanfic in my life, and my most popular, and it absolutely gushed out of me in this massive torrent of *I MUST WRITE* where I would walk around at lunchtime giggling to myself, and type on my phone as I went, or wake up at 1am to scrawl something in a notebook in the dark because I couldn’t stop the words from coming. (How I miss that feeling now! ;__;) Actually, it also is the 2nd fully complete long-form story I had ever completed as well, so...lots of milestones here.

Looking back, it clearly was the product of my years of bottled up silence, where I stewed and dragged myself to the office every day wondering if I was going to calcify in a bureaucracy for the rest of my life (yes). But even as an office drone, I learned a lot of valuable lessons in how to manage, what leadership actually is at the worker bee level, the types of games white-collar workers play, and how to be a decent co-worker (and by extension, a decent human being--I don’t believe it’s possible to separate work life and private life. All your personas are you). It wasn’t all a waste after all!

Somehow I connected my day-to-day to the faceless, long-suffering Royal guardsmen in TKEM, headed by the utterly gorgeous, devastating, thoroughly underutilized, comedic prop military action star Jo Yeong, and thought--yeah! :D

2) Nil Desperandum (TKEM)

My biggest fic by far, full novel length at this point, massive in scope, I don’t even know how I came up with it based on the 10 collective seconds of screen time that Jeong Tae-ra and tyrant Jin got as a joke, but I was clearly still on that dam-gushing-pent-up-creative-high because this idea was fighting me when I was in the middle of writing “Before There Was Zero”.

I actually figured out the title while watching “Call the Midwives” where one of the peppy, indefatigable British nurses said to never despair, and I thought, yes, that’s it. All the horrible things I put my tyrantverse characters through, it was only so that when I save them at the end, it will be completely worth it. It’s a bit more violent (nothing beyond My Country levels tho) and quite emotionally dark, but I also tried to inject a lot of friendship, humor, and love into it as well, because there must always be hope.

For My Country fandom friends who didn’t realize, the tyrant!Yeong in this fic is essentially modernAU!Seon-ho, and I lifted Sung-rok entirely from My Country to be tyrant!Yeong’s second-in-command and loyal-superstar-extraordinaire. Writing them in this modern AU, and seeing the positive reception to Sung-rok’s grouchy, dogged devotion was the start of my love spiral for Sung-rok. <3 <3

3) The Veritable Records of King Taejo (My Country)

Going to cheat and lump 3 fics (soon to be 4) into one link. I rested a little bit after “Nil Desperandum” because I had completely emptied myself out at that point, just a husk of an author shell. Then I started poking out oneshots! Each one got progressively harder to write, lol, the creative gas tank was running out of juice, so I had to really start figuring out new strategies as a writer to keep going. One magic tool was coercing recruiting @rain-hat to beta for me, and WOW, THE BEST???? Who would’ve thought it’d be FUN to be edited!!! <3 Due to her efforts, I could avoid the “no beta we die like Liaodong” tag, hahaha.

I grew up watching cop shows, lawyer shows, monster-of-the-day shows, endless procedurals-- so I was super miffed that the drama would imply that Seon-ho spent YEARS just single-mindedly chasing private armies??! No! I want more family and friends development for this sad, dramatic whump child! I want him to be smarter than the show, inherently brilliant despite the stupid he descends into, and be recognized as such by the people who do recognize his value! And I want them all to be happy with no pointless death!

Also, the 4th WIP is now a Sung-rok lovefest written as an ode to his awesomeness, has stretched to 47K+ words, and is being an absolute royal pain to finish. ;__; All the ease and creative fervor from earlier? GONE. I’m a lone salmon flopping upstream on a ladder. I might get eaten before I finish laying my eggs. Any one have tips to get over this?

4) First Translation of Woo Do Hwan Japanese Interviews

More firsts! So much thanks to @ibelongtomousse to inspiring and encouraging me to do some real translating after talking to her about her sublime TKEM fics and translations thereof, and @staidwaters from emerging from the Internet depths to boost/correct my neophyte efforts! I’m now chomping at the bit to do more, even though I may ultimately discover that these interviews have absolutely nothing interesting to say, lol. But my first priority is simply to get better at the language, and 2nd priority is to soak in the words (and photos) of Woo Do Hwan, hahahah. Also, as far as I can tell, no one is filling this niche, so I guess I’ll keep going??

5) Fanart!

I started drawing again! As a procrastination tactic from writing oneshots, but it still was really nice to see that I hadn’t lost the touch entirely. I feel like I’ve mentioned this here and there, but writing wasn’t my first interest--drawing was. Animals first, then people once I discovered anime/manga. I went all into drawing comics, only to face the hard reality that I didn’t know how to tell a story end-to-end. Hence how I started trying to write. Along the way, things happened--I got RSI and had to stop drawing/writing for awhile. I discovered that pictures are NOT worth a thousand words, esp when it comes to long-form comics; my preferred tools of trade (dip pens) ended up exacerbating my RSI problems; then once I got a handle on my RSI, I found I could type faster than I can ever draw, and so here I am. I saw what @convenientalias was doing with their My Country werewolf fic though, so I am excited to try that for my Sung-rok WIP? :D

I think I’m the last hold out among artist/writer friends in answering this wrap-up, hope you enjoyed reading!

#meme #fic meta #2020 accomplishments

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inviouswriting · 3 years

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Can’t sleep asks answered

Tossing and Turning: What parts of the writing process are you most comfortable with? Least?

Most comfortable - The actual process of it, once I actually get motivated things just flow from my hands.

Least - Starting a project. My mind is always swimming with things, so it’s hard to pick just “one” thing to focus on and stay to it. You’ll notice this blog has MANY stories and in different universes. It’s always hard to start a story so I don’t like the “start process” mostly because of world building. Establishing a plot to get to what I want to write.

Racing Thoughts: Do you like word sprints, or sites like Write or Die? Do you write well under pressure?

No. It works for some people who need deadlines or a way to curb “lazy” patterns or habits. For me I just fight tumblr not eating my stories.

Too Hot: How do you handle criticism? Have you ever worked with beta readers or editors? A writing group?

I handle all my own editing. Some of it lacks the editing because I post straight to tumblr or write on the site and don’t look back. I no longer really accept criticism on my stuff because of my history with people using it as a way to be an asshole. You never realize how much someone takes advantage when they tear apart something you work your heart out on. So I just don’t open up for betas when I learned how to do it myself. I’m satisfied with my style.

Too Cold: How do you handle writers’ block?

I don’t rush it. Inspiration hits differently, and usually it’s related to “how to start” a story rather than being truly stuck. I had a 5 year writer’s block once and that all cracked once I got into ff14... 900 stories later.... (The largest number of stories on this blog are ff14.) And now I just do my own thing.

Lumpy pillow: What is the editing process like for you?

I hate it. But I prefer to handle my own things. I still miss mistakes, or where it doesn’t make sense. If I am writing on word, I am editing as I am writing.

Thirsty: How do you feel about the advice “Write the story you want to read”?

It’s solid advice. For me it is “I want to read something that isn’t there.” I create things that way and love it when others find and enjoy what I’ve put out. Even my original stuff for those who follow for Kivera.

Counting Sheep: How long have you been writing?

Uh... going to be showing my age here..... 22 years? I’ve been writing since around 10-12? Started in notebooks.

Endless Scrolling: Where do you find inspiration? Books/Movies, music, aesthetics, people/places

This one is a little complicated. But whatever seems to pop into my head and stay enough to think on it. Occasionally books, and music. Never other people, I do not draw inspiration off other blogs (except moonie but we collab at times)

Restless: What are your writing goals? What are you striving towards?

Writing what I want. I may take on odd requests if people sent any in. Might try my original stuff again

Weird Dreams: Have you ever written anything inspired by your dreams?

Yes, there was a series I did for “cracked paths.” I think it was on my old blog though...

Sleep over!: If you could write with any author, living or dead, famous or not, who would you want to work with, and what would the project be like?

Maybe Stephen King. I have good horror concepts that I could bounce on him.

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enchanted-prose · 4 years

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#13 Feall’s Deadly Dance

I just-

this is chOnky im sorry

Word count: 6, 991

Characters: Imogen, Jaron, Mott, Harlowe, Tobias, Commander Regar (Original character), Feall Cormeach (original character), the Faola (original character)

Notes: my beautiful editing beta fish said this one was a blast so you have that to look forward to as you read 25 pages worth of ascendance content.

Enjoy!

"I brought you something, Jaron."

Oh, did she now?

His interest was captured. Jaron sat up from where he was lying on the floor. "Imogen, I'm-"

"It's alright, we all have bad days," Imogen said, she handed him a mug, and sat down beside him.

Did he have a good enough excuse for what he did? Probably not. Too much energy pulsed through Jaron's body. It was time to escape. Time to get out.

Taking it out on Roden was all too easy.

It was easier to throw a punch than discuss tender topics.

He was coming to terms with his anxiety by ignoring it. His palms were always sweaty, and his stomach was constantly being squeezed. Something was staring at him right in the face. Jaron scratched the back of his head.

Imogen's hand was on his shoulder, she was there to listen.

"I'll be meeting with Lord Row this afternoon," Jaron muttered. "I have a plan for whatever he asks. A way to help Avenia in any way we can."

"Good, a plan is always good," said Imogen, a tiny smile fluttering across her face.

Jaron lived for those tiny butterfly smiles.

"There's too much waiting in the future. I don't like that I've once again had to bargain with a criminal and I don't like all of this pressure to find Mireldis Thay. I know how it feels to be the lost

royal, and even if she's alive, I'd rather respect her choice to remain hidden. Her name is being

used as a scapegoat, and it's not fair."

Silence settled in. Jaron sipped from his mug; Imogen had brought him some sour tasting tea. The warmth spread through his throat, threatening to overtake the chilling anxiety that hadn’t quite left since he’d returned to court so long ago.

Even if he couldn’t save everyone, he could do what he could to help.

“Do you think I should apologize to Roden for what I did last night?” Jaron mumbled.

A dark curl fell across Imogen’s nose as she shook her head. “I think you might make him mad. Give him a little space, and then apologize.”

An apology was due this time. Jaron had been the one to start their fight.

Uncomfortable emotions tugged at his false sense of normalcy.

He chose to run from what he felt. “Did you know that Jolly has quite the network of people?”

“I did, actually. Amarinda was a little upset when she found out he’d be staying in Drylliad,” Imogen squeezed Jaron’s shoulder. “She fears that many of the people we’ve met aren’t who they say they are.”

“Nobody is who they say they are. We tell people what we want them to think and only show our true faces when we’re alone.”

“That’s not quite true.”

“Oh yes it is, Imogen.”

Anger was rising up in his lungs. Drink the tea, drink the tea. Jaron tipped his head back and didn’t stop drinking the scalding liquid even as it seared down his throat.

It was still hard to accept that no matter how hard he tried to hide, Imogen was there. She was always there with a kind word, and always there with a biting word if he did something dangerous.

But she was welcome.

Everyone’s filled with holes.

When he was removed from his family a decade ago, a Mother sized hole tore through his heart, followed by a Father shaped hole, and a Darius shaped hole.

No, no. It wasn’t a hole, it was a hollow. Hollows could be filled, but not every hole could.

Jaron had a family hollow in his heart for too long.

He was still getting used to having that hollow filled. Still getting used to how Imogen had stepped into his hollow, hollow heart and filled him with warmth.

Sometimes that warmth burst, and he always gave into it.

Emotion was a curse that plagued his family. Too much sympathy, too much energy, too much of everything.

It wasn’t very often that he lost control. In fact, Jaron prided himself on his ability to hold his head high in the face of condescending nobles. They tried their best to use his unorthodox tendencies against him, and he responded with a ferocity that his father, King Eckbert, had lacked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said,” Jaron dragged his hand over his face. “I haven’t been feeling as prepared as I’d like to be.”

Imogen was silent for several moments, then leaned over, and smoothed down Jaron’s hair. “Is there anything I can do to help? As your friend, and your wife, I want to support you however I can.”

There were so many things he needed, but the second somebody asked, he didn’t want to speak of them.

With Imogen, it was different.

She’d seen him at his very best and very worst, there was nothing he could willingly hide from her.

“I, ah, I’m having trouble picking my battles.”

“Which battles? We’ll go through them together.”

Go through battle together. With Imogen at his side, Jaron could do anything. He set down the mug, and reached for her hand. “I’ve been considering my deal with Ayvar, about catching the patched Faola who nearly butchered Feall. There’s too many things I can’t figure out, too many details are missing, and I can’t make a gamble without them.”

“Are there connections you’ve made?” Imogen asked, her head tilting ever so slightly. “There’s more to this than just an attack on a military leader. It reeks of something worse. I think the attack on Feall was very much on purpose; I think it was an assassination attempt.”

“But the motive? What was the motive? Feall has charmed everyone at court, he’s very well liked. It’s very difficult to get a large group of people in on an assassination attempt, and Ayvar’s resistance only proves that.”

“Are we ruling out money as a motive?”

Jaron drummed his fingers against the back of Imogen’s hand. “I think so. Too expensive for a group that large to attack one man. I’m also ruling out robbery, as Tobias, Renlyn, and Mott weren’t harmed on purpose. Any injuries that came were because they fought back.”

The most obvious remaining motive held the lowest moral ground.

Perhaps Feall had been attacked because somebody wanted his head on a pike, because somebody hated him with a fire that could only be put out with Feall’s death.

An attacker thinking like this would find a way to take their revenge, or die trying.

“I’m sorry, I have to stand, it’s hard to-” Jaron began, but Imogen had already sprung to her feet.

She’d extended her hand. “You don’t have to apologize. We’ll walk to the atrium.”

His heart was going to burst.

Imogen didn’t need to hear his excuse. She just knew. She’d grown to accept that his mind worked best while he moved.

There were times when he questioned why he prayed to the Saints, as it was very clear that he was married to one of them.

Arm in arm, Jaron and Imogen left the office, their pace gradually quickening. Fast walking made for fast thinking.

Who on earth would want Feall dead enough to follow him to Carthya?

Memories, memories. Jaron wrinkled his nose as he thought back to when Feall first arrived so many weeks ago.

The Faola had attacked him then too, called Feall by name, who responded in turn. Jaron hadn’t noticed it then. Hadn’t notice how casual the exchange was despite lives being on the line.

Feall knew who his attacker was.

"What are they calling you here? Shrike? The Black Knight?"

"Fight me like a man, Feall. There's a score to be settled."

"Many people want to settle scores with me, you'll have to tell me your name first.”

"Rot in Hell."

“You know that I’m not the one who’ll be rotting with the Devils.”

“Feall insists that the attacker was Mireldis Thay, but I didn’t think it was true. People take powerful names all the time,” Jaron mused, shifting his hand to the small of Imogen’s back. “I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I was wrong.”

The movement was subtle, but Jaron had a trained eye. He saw the tiny flicker of Imogen’s hand as it brushed her left collarbone.

Though her wound had healed long ago, Imogen’s shoulder could never quite forget the pain of an arrow wound. Her ghost pains made the occasional appearance. Jaron trained himself to catch the signs of their return.

He guided her away from the busy hallway, and kissed her fingertips, “Are you alright?”

The smile on Imogen’s face was sharp and bitter, nothing like the shy butterfly smiles she’d been flashing not long ago.

She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over her collarbone. Her hand fell to her side. “I can think of quite a few reasons why- if Feall’s claims are right -Thay would want him dead by her own hand.”

Was it wrong that Jaron nodded his head?

Was it wrong that he knew what that lust for revenge tasted like?

Revenge was easy to justify, it was easy to die for, and it was easy to spiral down the wrong path because of it.

Jaron touched Imogen’s face.

“I don’t want to be coddled, Jaron, I want to continue this conversation,” Imogen rolled her shoulders back. “If Feall is right, then we have to consider where Mireldis is coming from.”

“Mireldis might not be alive, too,” Jaron noted, taking great care to keep his pace slow and even.

“Then we find somebody who’s seen her. Who knows her.”

“I, ah, I can think of somebody who might have our answers.”

“Are we thinking of the same person?” Imogen arched her eyebrows.

He made a face, desperate to distract Imogen from feeling her ghost pains again.“Possibly, but just in case, you say your answer first so I can agree with you.”

“Jolly may have what we’re looking for. He seems to know everyone who ever lived.”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” Jaron grinned. He looped an arm around Imogen’s waist. “Perhaps we could pay him a visit. With a list of ballads, of course, I have no intention of listening to Ingrithay ever again.”

“Catchy ballad?” asked Imogen, her hand settling atop Jaron’s.

“Catchy and creepy.”

There was blood in the kitchen,

There was-

No! Not again!

There was a time from long, long ago when Jaron’s father would let him play in the corner of his study. . . If Jaron agreed to be quiet. Eckbert had a fondness for yellow citrus in his tea, and Jaron had a fondness for biting into whatever food he could. There would be no forgetting the way that slice of lemon tore through Jaron’s child mouth.

The expression he wore was the equivalent to the face he’d made after realizing how big of a mistake it was to bite into a lemon.

“Careful dear, your face will freeze that way,” Imogen said, patting Jaron’s cheek.

“But would you still love me if my face looked that way? That’s my real concern,” countered Jaron.

“I’d still love you no matter what way your face freezes.”

“Imogen, you’re implying that my face is going to freeze.”

“I’ve seen the expressions you make while explaining what the nobles request.”

Jaron chuckled, he couldn’t deny that. He’d considered becoming a model for gargoyle expressions. They could learn from the deep grimaces he made when reading over suggested policies.

“Would you still love me if I were a miniscule beetle?” He stepped ahead of Imogen, and held open the door to the massive atrium.

She nodded, “I would, in fact. I’d take care of you and make you a little beetle house and give you little crumbs of cake.”

“Promise me you won’t give me lentils. They’re disgusting and bad for beetles.”

“I didn’t realize beetles had specific diets.”

“They don’t, I just don’t want you to feed beetle me any lentils.”

Imogen set her hand over her heart, “I swear I won’t feed you any lentils in the event that you are magically turned into a bug.”

“A beetle Imogen. There’s a difference.”

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

Gold sunset light saturated the entire castle. It almost lifted Jaron’s spirits as he looked over each of his regents.

They all stood as he walked into the throne room, flanked by Mott and Harlowe. He held out his hand, prompting them to sit, and sat down in his cushioned chair. Gold sunset light saturated the throne room. One man remained standing. He flashed a small grin at Jaron.

Lord Thomas Row was wearing a splendid hook, but aside from that, wore almost the same clothing that he’d worn the day before. His braided black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and adorned with a series of elegant beads.

He stood out among the richly dressed regents.

“Your Majesty, I once again must thank you on behalf of Avenia for assisting us during this time,” Row said, bowing deeply.

Jaron dipped his head, “It’s what anyone would do for an ally; for a friend. I’m prepared to hear what you’ve come to say, and I’m prepared to give Avenia aid in any way possible.”

With some exceptions, of course. Jaron refused to turn to dishonesty for as long as he could, he’d seen what happened when somebody was afraid to face the truth.

He’d been a victim of what happened when somebody was afraid to face the truth.

“We pray that all is well in Avenia,” Harlowe said. “Please, tell us of Avenia.”

The regents leaned forward in their chairs; Row rolled his shoulders back. “Your Majesty, regents, Sir Mott, I bring news of mixed success. I am proud to say that the southern region is doing well, we’ve allowed everyone an opportunity to learn to read, and in turn, our now literate farmers have been able to bring us economic success with their imports and exports.

“We’ve seen this pattern throughout the entire country, although this progress hasn’t spread easily through the northern regions. This is where we come for Carthyan aid, King Jaron. There are rumors of revolution in Isel. We haven’t found the cause of these rumors, though we suggest they were put into Iseli heads by an outside source, likely Gelynian or another outside source.

“King Aranscot has long envied Isel and its value. King Kippenger’s reign is still much like an unsteady colt stumbling through its first day, it wouldn’t take much for King Aranscot to topple the entire regime, and plunge Avenia into darkness once again.”

“Are you requesting military assistance, Lord Row?” Jaron asked, his hands clasped in his lap.

Row shook his head, “Not to that extent, your Highness. King Kippenger would feel much better knowing there is at least a small Carthyan presence in Isel.”

Ah, yes, Carthyan influence.

If Jaron played his cards right, he’d be able to fulfill Kippenger’s request without causing any offense. He wouldn’t be able to send Roden, his reputation preceded him, and Roden’s presence would likely invoke more fear than peace.

But if he placed a noble there, one with enough popularity, that could bring Kippenger a new sense of ease.

Renlyn Karise’s name bounced around in his head.

She’d be a valuable asset to Isel, she had property there, and enough power to hire her own army if needed.

However, Renlyn was a good friend to Imogen, and Jaron didn’t have the heart to sever that relationship.

Jaron felt a frown tug at his lips. He scanned the regents, trying to find Tobias for support. “Could you see this unease growing into a call to arms against King Kippenger?”

Tobias gave the slightest nod of his head.

“Perhaps, although we’d rather be safe than sorry, Avenia’s armies would be able to handle the insurgents should any fighting arise,” explained Row. “We hope that Carthya’s presence would be enough to stifle any more talk of revolution.”

“Hope might not be enough, but I am willing to take that risk in order to keep the peace.”

“Your Majesty, please understand that Avenia wants no more war, we fear bloodshed, and we fear the implications it would bring to every realm near the Eranbole sea.”

“I see your concern, Lord Row, and I will do my best to ease this fear,” Jaron held his hand over his heart. “I sense there’s more you have to say?”

Row shifted on his feet. “We’ve heard rumors that Mireldis Thay is in your custody, and though King Kippenger finds chasing rumors the work of a child, he does like to be informed. Is this true?”

Now it was the regents’ turn to all shift in their seats. Harlowe looked to Jaron for permission to speak, “I’m afraid we have only rumors about Lady Thay. There is nothing to fear, the young woman in Carthya’s protection is a bandit named Ayvar.”

“Ah, what a pity, I suppose,” Row sighed, and he held his hook in his hand.

Mott frowned, “Your reaction is vastly different from what’s common.”

“I’ve never been one to accept information without picking it apart.”

“If only more people were like you then, Lord Row,” Jaron said. “However, we are here for Avenia’s sake, not Mireldis Thay’s.”

“You are correct, your Majesty.” Once again, Lord Row bowed. “I shall leave you to discuss my nation’s matters with your regents, but I must ask that you do so with speed. I will not see my people suffer and a nation overthrown because of bureaucratic loopholes.”

Jaron didn’t bother hiding his smirk. It was no secret that Carthyan kings rarely got along with their regents. “My word is final, and my regents understand that.”

“I trust your judgement, King Jaron. If you would wish to speak with me, you know how and where to find me.”

“We will send for you the minute the King’s council has come to an agreement,” Harlowe promised. “Thank you for your time, Lord Row, and take care.”

“Your concern is reassuring, Lord Harlowe. I eagerly await the King’s response.”

The throne room remained silent as every pair of eyes watched Row walk away from them. He might not have been born into his title, but he carried himself with pride.

He carried himself with dignity.

“Your Majesty, I know we have an agreement with Avenia, but-,” began the infamous Mistress Orlaine, who would’ve lost her position as regent ages ago if Jaron didn’t care for his public image. She had the means to turn people against him, and Jaron couldn’t have that.

“But nothing, they are our ally, and if they need help, we will help them,” Jaron cut in. “If my father had been more willing to take action, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. We will stand united in kindness and honesty, not through going back on our word.”

“We can’t send military aid, not without angering King Aranscot, he would think that we are preparing to rise against him,” Harlowe mused. He stroked his salt-and-pepper beard, obviously thinking of a solution.

Jaron drummed his fingers on his knee, “I will think of something, but whatever we do, we must do what we can to help King Kippenger.”

“Why be kind to them? They’re a nation of thieves,” spat another regent, Master Termouthe. “We must honor tradition, your Majesty. Without tradition, we are nothing.”

“And I acknowledge that, Lord Termouthe, I do, but traditions and times change. A nation of thieves cannot change on its own, King Kippenger deserves our support, and it would be selfish of us not to share what we have.”

The regents were becoming fussy. Another elderly mistress grunted. “We could be sharing what we have with our people. Your disregard for royal luxury is fuel for gossip.”

“And yet, I find that facing gossip is much better than leaving men and women to starve in the streets,” Tobias butted in. “This is a matter of Avenian policy, not an opportunity to scrutinize personal choices.”

“Bold words coming from-,” Termouthe’s sentence never finished.

People rarely finished insulting statements when Mott fixed a glare on them.

“Then it’s settled,” Jaron stood up from his chair. “We are sending somebody to Isel to keep the peace. I will call another meeting when I have made my choice.”

Termouthe, Orlaine, and the other dissenters kept their eyes glued to the ground.

“Lord Harlowe, Lord Branch, Sir Mott,” said Jaron, clasping his hands behind his back. “I would very much like to discuss our options in private.”

“You are dismissed,” Harlowe gestured from the regents to the wide, open doors.

Each regent stood, bowed, and walked out a little too slowly for Jaron’s taste. They were trying to stay and hear what he had to say.

But they would hear nothing that would advance their agendas.

“Mott, do you know anything about Commander Regar? Did you talk to him at all?” Jaron asked, pacing from his throne to Tobias’s chair, to Harlowe, and back to his throne. “Is he still here?”

Mott set his ankle on his knee, leaning back into his charge in the process. “I spoke with him as best I could, but I know him, Jaron. He’s clean.”

No matter how much time Jaron spent with Mott, there were still so many things he didn’t know about him.

“Don’t you find it odd that Lord Row asked about Mireldis Thay?” Tobias pointed out. He was sitting almost as straight as the back of his chair. “I doubt Row has ever met her.”

Commander Regar.

Regar, Regar, Regar.

Saints be cursed, something was staring at him right in the face. Jaron was smart, why was he still struggling with this puzzle?

“I’ll have to add that to my list of questions,” Jaron grunted.

Tobias shifted, “List of questions?”

“Imogen and I have an idea that a mutual friend of ours may know more than we’d expect. We’re going to pay him a visit.”

“He plays a lute and wears colors that murder the eyes, doesn’t he?”

Jaron nodded, “You’re correct, and I will come back with answers, or I won’t come back at all.”

A bold promise, but Jaron knew what he was capable of. His mind was beginning to get ahead of him, he was dreaming of all the possibilities awaiting him.

Perhaps he was wrong about everything, and there was no need to have an entire gang of morally grey thieves be thrown into the dungeon.

Or maybe he and Imogen were right. Maybe Mireldis Thay had come to Carthya with every intention to slaughter Feall, or die trying.

A crime punishable by death.

“Jaron, I do hate to backtrack,” Harlowe inhaled. “But I would propose that we station a small company of soldiers in Libeth, just in case the situation in Avenia goes wrong. It would be much easier to mobilize forces from there than from here.”

“That-, that’s not a half bad idea, actually. Ah, Harlowe, you’re far too brilliant to be working with these regents.”

“As are you, my king.”

Jaron waved the comment away, “I’ll speak with Roden about moving soldiers. Aranscot will likely figure our movements out, but he has nothing to do with the unrest in Isel, then he’ll leave us alone. If he does have something to do with the unrest, then we have our answer.”

“Isn’t it nice when things are straightforward?” Hummed Tobias, who’d begun rubbing his temples. “We’ll be able to move onto our next item of business once the troops are placed, there won’t be any secrets about it.”

Any secrets.

Several of Jaron’s policies were ridiculed by many of the regents. They mocked the way he kept things in the open. But it was because of honesty that Carthya was beginning to thrive.

“Is the castle going to be involved in this year’s Blackberry Night?” Tobias was chipping away at every detail he could.

“I’ll think about it,” Jaron shrugged. “We’ve had a festival already, and Blackberry Night gets a little too wild for my taste.”

“The festival was weeks ago, Amarinda and I could coordinate it, and maybe it’ll draw in-“

“I said I’d think about it, Tobias.”

There were grander things to worry about than a party. Things with more benefits than gaining favor with regents who’d hate Jaron til either he died, or they died.

Mott accompanied him as he excused himself from the tiny meeting. They’d formed a pact in the dead of night not long ago to check in on Feall after the recent attack. They’d also both agreed to keeping Tobias indoors for a few days. Both Mott and Jaron clung to their promises for as long as they could, but eventually Amarinda left with Queen Danika’s investigators to search for Mireldis Thay, and nothing on earth could keep Tobias from going with her.

Mystic and Mott’s mare were already saddled and waiting to be ridden.

“Market day is going to happen shortly before the Morning of the Saints,” Mott said as he and Jaron stepped into the castle courtyard.

“Are you trying to start a debate about my church attendance with me?” Jaron countered. He had enough on his mind. Mystic stamped his foot as Jaron swung into the saddle. “You’re just like Imogen.”

“On the contrary, I’m only stating a fact. Market day technically is starting before the Morning of the Saints.”

“Too many holidays, too little time. I’d like to take a nap for a month or two.”

Mott clicked at his mare, leading the way out of the courtyard. “You’re doing a good job, Jaron. There’s a lot to deal with, and you’re doing your best.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

He didn’t want to admit how much he valued Mott’s approval.

Jaron uttered a silent prayer of thanks; he’d left his circlet behind, which meant he didn’t need to nod at each person who bowed to him. The streets were almost crammed, but not enough to render travel useless.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about all of these holidays,” Jaron grinned. “Maybe I should set aside a day where I can forget about my duties and remain calm.”

“There’s nothing stopping you from doing that now,” Mott guided his horse a few steps closer to Jaron. A carriage thundered past.

They were nearing the middle level of Drylliad, it wouldn’t be long until they were at the lower levels. Feall would have to be there somewhere.

“You know what, you’re absolutely right.”

“I typically am, people don’t like listening.”

“That’s because your version of ‘right’ isn’t nearly as fun as mine.”

“Strange, I’d thought my version of ‘right’ was better than yours because it typically means you don’t return to the castle with a black eye.”

Jaron inhaled deeply and leaned as far back as he could, his face turned to the sky. He couldn’t think of a response, as Mott’s argument couldn’t be countered without sounding like a blithering fool. Instead, he groaned.

“That’s what I thought,” Mott chuckled.

Children with bandages on their feet darted across the cobblestones, chasing after a striped lizard. A woman’s fashionable right boot flew through the air, caught by a pair of grubby child’s hands. Girls in tattered red rags waved from shattered windows. Lower Drylliad was often forgotten by nobles.

They didn’t want to get their hands dirty.

Didn’t want to help those born into a pigpen.

Mott sat a little straighter in his saddle. “This seems more like Roden’s route.”

“I think they switched patrol times,” Jaron racked his brain as he struggled to remember the last time Roden had told him about what he was up to. “With Feall patrolling during the day, it keeps him safe from his attacker. And Roden was very keen on being able to spend his afternoons either beating me at sparring or teaching Nila how to properly use a sword.”

“Probably makes it easier to avoid you, too.”

“Very true, which isn’t really that great, as I’ve been meaning to-,” Jaron gagged, “-apologize to him.”

“Consider me impressed, I know how much you hate doing that.”

Feall wasn’t far ahead, his jacket rested on his shoulders, dirt stained his white shirt. He waved. A large man with a full scarlet beard was gently tossing some of the children into the air. Jaron recognized him; Commander Regar was too massive to forget

“Have you come to visit me?” Feall joked. “Commander, show some respect to the king.”

Regar nodded his head to Jaron and Mott, nodded to the children he’d been throwing, and stood by Feall.

A man sized like Regar would have no problems holding his own against three men.

“We did, but unfortunately, I forgot to bring you flowers,” Jaron wiped away an imaginary tear. “Have you had any trouble, Feall?”

He shook his head, “Not exactly, I did have to separate a pair of urchins as they fought over a shoe.”

Regar gave no comment, which annoyed Jaron to no end.

What was it with people and not reacting to anything?

“Was it a woman’s shoe?” asked Mott, gesturing to the howling children several steps away.

“Yes, yes it was. I suppose if they aren’t bashing heads into the ground over it, they can play with it. Did you really come to check in on me, or is there something wrong?”

Jaron frowned, “Have you done something wrong?”

Ha! Regar coughed! That was almost as good as a biting comment!

“Not that I can think of,” a strand of long, dark hair fell across Feall’s forehead.

“Then we came strictly to check in on you, I’d hate to see a friend of mine come to harm. Again.”

Mott scoffed something about friends and harm, but his statement was almost too quiet to hear.

Feall raised his eyebrows, “Is that true?”

“Is what true?”

“Am I your friend, King Jaron?”

“I suppose so. Be careful, though, I do have bold requests of my friends. Mott thinks they’re ‘a danger to everyone’, and that I’m ‘going to chip somebody’s tooth’,” Jaron made sure to look Mott in the eye as he said so. “Consider yourself invited the next time I try to use a shield as a sled.”

“I’ll make sure to be-,” Feall stood straight, his sentence trailing off.

“Your Majesty, you may want to get away from here,” Regar muttered.

There were no more children shrieks.

His hand was resting on his sword hilt seconds after he recognized the unnatural quiet. Jaron squinted at the alley nearest to him, struggling to decide if the shadow he saw was because of a pile of trash or a lurking person.

“Where’s your horse, Feall?” Jaron murmured, his eyes locked on the shadow.

“Tied up in a stable, wasn’t in the mood to have her stolen from me,” Feall slowly unsheathed his sword. “I’m sure there’s a reason for the sudden silence.”

Jaron rolled his shoulders back, “I’ll dismount, Mystic won’t fit both of us.”

His feet hit the solid cobblestones, the sound echoing across the street. The only sound accompanying them through the streets was the constant clip-clop of horses’ hooves.

What a foolish idea, riding out to lower Drylliad.

What an even more foolish idea, letting Feall continue to patrol the streets despite having a target on his back.

A familiar sensation bubbled in his stomach. He’d grown up on tales of witches and their poisonous brews. Perhaps there was a tiny witch hiding inside him, using his insides as ingredients for her malicious magics.

Every so often, Jaron glanced back over his shoulder. There were too many things that could’ve caused the sudden wave of silence. Too many reasons why the street was suddenly lifeless. There were no girls in red waving from their windows, no children throwing discarded boots at each other, and no men with dirty blindfolds begging for money.

It was bad news when children hid.

It was even worse when the beggars vanished.

Mott scanned each alley. Jaron looked over his shoulder. Feall checked both sides of the street.

But nobody looked ahead to see the patched bandit in front of them.

“A pity, you should’ve told me there was a gathering!” Called out the patched Faola. His voice was rougher than before, and his saber looked a little worse for wear. “I’ve been told I’m the life of the party!”

Jaron’s hand shot out, gripping Feall’s upper arm as hard as he could.“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I know it’s you, Mireldis Thay!” Feall stepped forward, breaking out of Jaron’s grasp. “I had my doubts, but your foolish note to Oberson confirmed my suspicions!”

“I wear only my name, and nobody else’s.”

Feall’s face fell.

The Faola bowed, “Your Majesty, Sir Mott, I humbly ask that you step away. This is, well, a matter of personal business. Don’t take offense when I say I don’t know you well enough to clash swords with the pair of you two.”

“I have to humbly ask you to step away,” Jaron countered. “It’s rude that you haven’t told me your name yet, I’m reduced to calling you Patches as your friend Ayvar does. Patches is the name for a household cat, not a sadistic murderer.”

“Sadistic? You’d see things differently if you asked the right questions.”

Mott dismounted as the banter continued, he too had drawn his sword. “What right questions?”

“Questions like-,” the Faola shrugged, his hood drawn low over his face. “Questions like why- ah, they don’t matter. Nothing will distract me from my chosen path.”

“Disappointing, I do love to talk,” Jaron frowned.

“Coincidentally, I do too when the cards are right.”

“Then maybe we should deal out new hands.”

It was unnerving, watching the Faola press a hand to his stomach and cackle. “You can’t get a new hand in this game.”

“Says who?” Jaron dug his foot into the cobblestones, risking a tiny glance at Mott.

The Faola only appeared to be one person, it was all too likely that there were multiple hiding in the alleys. There was a tiny chance that Roden had begun patrol early, and would come galloping to the sounds of a sword fight.

However, that had already worked once, and it was unlikely that the Devils wanted to play the same trick.

“Buy time,” Mott hissed.

Jaron stepped forwards again, “I don’t know your quarrel with Lord Feall, but I won’t let you shed any more blood in my city.”

Was it a coincidence that the Faola took a step back each time Jaron took one forward?

“You’re no king of mine,” barked the bandit.

“Then why are you retreating?”

He knew he shouldn’t have mentioned the Faola’s subtle retreat. The Faola roared, and flung himself forward, his saber moving with blinding speed. Jaron bellowed back and parried one of the Faola’s blows.

Though the saber was a slimmer weapon, the Faola’s tendency to leap out of the way kept Jaron from landing any debilitating blows. He lunged forward, and the Faola scurried backwards. With his sword raised, Jaron gathered his strength, preparing to sweep across the Faola’s middle.

That would put an end to things.

Feall and Mott were rushing to assist him. Regar, however, stood by Mystic and Mott’s horse, watching the fight from afar.

He wasn’t expecting it when the Faola pressed the inner curve of his saber to his leather gauntlet, and charged forward.

Jaron brought his sword crashing down on the Faola’s saber, locking both of their blades together. Mott and Feall were almost near enough to land a-

The world around him turned to pudding. Where was Commander Regar? Where was his mighty longsword and his skull crushing hands?

The Faola had delivered a sharp kick to Jaron’s upper right leg, sending stars across his vision. Where was Commander Regar? Where was his mighty longsword and his skull crushing hands?

“The King!” Feall shouted. “Mott! Regar! Get the King!”

“I can hold-!” Jaron tried standing on his right leg, but the overwhelming urge to vomit his entire day’s worth of food forced him into a loss.

Regar bounded away from the horses, his longsword in both of his huge hands. The Faola only ducked under his mighty arms, and did his best to strike a blow at Feall.

The Faola froze at the sight of Regar, the tip of his saber clinked against the ground.

Mott held his sword extended as he dragged Jaron back to Mystic, “We have to get you out of here!”

“Let me go!”

“You hold priority!”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Jaron roared, shoving himself away from Mott. If he just stood with all of his weight on his left leg, he could still fight!

All it took was a step closer to Feall and the Faola to make his vision burst with white lights.

The world had turned to jelly, to pudding, to sludge. All Jaron knew was that he no longer retained a crisp sense of the air around him. Everything was too warm, too sticky.

His hair was sticking to his forehead. His insides were sticking to each other. His hands were sticking to his sword.

Was he going to be sick all over Mott?

The sword fell from his hands; Mott was shoving him onto Mystic. Bits of conversation drifted through his cotton hearing. He could sometimes see Feall and the Faola’s outlines against his holy-white vision.

It was almost like they were dancing together.

Feall was ever the gentleman, allowing the Faola to always strike at his head. He always returned the gesture with a hard swipe to the Faola’s middle.

“This is a bit-!” Feall ducked. “Below the-!”

The Faola jabbed his sword low, and sadly, Jaron didn’t catch the last part of Feall’s witty retort.

He clung to Mystic’s reigns, his eyes searching for Mott. The whiteness was fading, replaced with unnatural blues.

Mott would guide him to safety. Mott would keep him safe.

“Jaron, ride ahead,” Mott urged. “Keep it slow, I’m going to get Feall out of his mess. Blink if you-”

Jaron didn’t need to blink, he only urged Mystic forward and tried not to vomit into his own lap.

Horse hooves clattered against the pavement in an odd compliment to clashing swords. Somebody was ordering Mott away; ordering him to consider himself and that he’d only make the close fighting quarters even tighter.

The Faola ducked beneath feall’s blade, twirling away from both Mott and Feall like a little girl in a new dress. Sounds of battle were dying. The fight was a music box, twinkling down to its last plink of a note.

Mystic tottered forward.

Straining, Jaron peered over his shoulder, looking just in time to see the music box’s final plink.

The Faola swiped the saber across Feall’s chest, missed, and kicked him in the stomach. Feall went tumbling to the ground. The Faola stood above his opponent, gloating words lost to Jaron’s pudding hearing.

But it was Regar who earned the last plink.

Tossing his sword to the side, Regar barrelled into the Faola. “Get them to safety! I’ll cover you!”

“Let me go!” The Faola shrieked, pounding his fists against Regar’s back

Regar let the Faola slide down his back. The Faola anticipated the fall, and rolled to his sword. He swung as hard as he could, but Regar caught the saber blade with his gloved hand.

Mott tugged Feall onto his saddle, leaving the Faola to his fate.

A sad finale to a short dance between Feall and his lethal partner. Jaron leaned over and vomited. He didn’t hear whatever it was that Mott was saying as he limped them all back to the castle.

All he could think about was that dance of life and death. It was a dance he’d performed himself. He’d seen somebody dance that way before- all jumping and twirling. The dancer’s name was just out of his reach. Knowing that the name was there was enough.

They were strange musings, but it was worth it to avoid vomiting again.

It was the musings of a man in too much pain to see straight.

#its real Mott Saves the Day Hours #and bully Jaron hours #sorry kiddo #this was #uh #too fun sorry #regar is just the dad from brave except hes a grumpy man who likes throwing humans #the ascendance series #mott #prince jaron #imogen #harlowe #tobias #ocs #chaotic #fic friday #fic Friday except its a tuesday #time isn't real

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itscookieoverlordtoyou · 4 years

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40 Questions — Meme for Fic Writers

Don’t you sometimes see those ask games and wish you could just fkg do them all? On this sunny Saturday, we make our dreams reality lolol

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Short fic, I usually get a small scene I want written so I write around it, plus I love short stories with interesting punchline.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Probably, I don’t know them all ^^’

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Writing about stuff that disgust me I guess.

4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Like 5-6? I want to write about a restaurant but set in a world where people have powers I think the combo could be very funny. The main character has the power of insight, the plonge is a giant pool where you swim around cleaning. Backstories of characters with shitty and amazing powers and how they ended up here. Rival to lover character that has the power to see into the future.

5. Share one of your strengths.

Dialogues, subversion, and humor; classmates often said I have a touch to spin a sad story into something positive/happier.

6. Share one of your weaknesses?

I get tired when I describe something for longer than 4 sentences.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“In what kind of trouble have we walked right into?”, I ask my companions as they’re idly fixing their attire. Together, we’ve face many perils and this mission ranks among one of the most dangerous. Yet, the others had been…how should I say it…professional! Rescuing kidnapped princesses, vanquishing terrifying monsters, quests to restore mythical artifacts, save nations from insidious plots. Oddly enough, “Does this dress make me look fat?”, is not the answer I’m looking for.

Ribbon in my hair is the first time I wrote about my knights, I first dreamt about them when I as 18, my boyfriend at the time called my idea stupid and my world building pointless so I only started writing about them when I was 21. Now I write about them a little bit every year :)

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

“Do you really want your last words to be complaints?”

“I die as I lived.”

“Will we become a fruit tree?”

“I don’t think so, it’s never been the case for my ancestors.”

“I’d love it if we could turn into a banana tree.”

“I’m not from the southern regions, plus I like apples more.”

“Just imagine, our fruits could have been banana flambée”

This death scene was a big finale to a story I wrote for a class in Uni, a story of war between clan of forest and volcano people, of the supposedly brutal death of a Goddess, of a mysterious apple tree whose fruit give vision of the past. I should revisit it.

9. Which fic as been the hardest to write?

My analysis on D’Artagnan and the figure of the hero. Granted it’s an essay for school but I deeply loved it. I was too afraid to write or ask for help from the professor in charge of me (which made our relationship tense ^^’) but when I did, it was beautiful and I was very proud got 89% :D

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

A play called Adelaide where an old couple reads their old fairytale book about a Prince on a quest to save a Princess. They bicker about the other misreading the story but we finally get to the part where the Prince tosses the princess apart to get a better view of the dragon of which he falls instantly in love. The book is actually their wedding album.

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

It’s one of my passions, but it’s not something I think I could live on so I delegated it to my hobby.

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

The wedding scene in Shrek 2, my mind was blown when I saw it in theaters and when I need inspiration to write, I rewatch it.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Presentation is important. If trying to read you gives people headaches, they’ll stop. Choose a nice big font, space with paragraphs, be mindful of your spelling and missing words. Read out loud because some things written are bad said.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

I must’ve been lucky in this regard, I don’t think I’ve ever received advice that made me go NO, but I did have to listen/read stuff that made me gag.

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I would love to the Adelaide acted out, some adjustments would be required because I’m no expert in play writing but I think I’d be great.

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Luyenor’a and Taram, names are placeholders as of now but they’re two of my knight, being the “only pairing I’m allow to write about forever” means I’d get more knight shenanigans done.

17. Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I’m doing bullets point of what I want to happen and write stuff without much order. Some days I have no inspirations for what goes in the beginning but have loads for a later point. I surf the wave when it presents itself.

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

Word on my computer, a notebook in my bag, the note app in my phone.

19. Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

I have little trinkets all around my computer to invite inspiration.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Freshly woken up, having eaten, drinking something sugary and sometimes apple cider because the alcohol help lower my inhibition.

21. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

I read out loud at least once the whole thing, helps with missing words but dude I reread my stuff on ao3 and always find mistakes still ^^’

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

I’m not going to put here because it’s in French and I don’t want to translate now but I wrote Vision of a world, mine when I was 16 and damn was I already depressed then?

23. If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

The Princess and the Soldier, some gay fairytale I think my first one, I’m sure I can do better bow

I also have one about a janitor and it’s a murder mystery I could redo

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Once by accident, I was so angry I never rewrote it.

25. What do you look for in a beta?

I don’t really use beta (beta reader right?) but I guess I’ve had like 3-4 when I was in Uni and had to read people’s wip and they read mine. They’d talk about what they liked, links they noticed, things that seemed weak or to change

26. Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I usually just point out the stuff I like

27. How do you feel about collaborations?

For a class in college, we had to act out a play we wrote collectively. Ten sketches written in pairs/alone. I made sure I was alone so I wouldn’t be saddled with someone else to write my sketch

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

I don’t follow fic writers; I just am in a mood for a ship and read what’s available. I do like my friend @alumort ‘s fics tho ^^

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

There was a Phineas and Ferb fic focused on Perry I really loved. Their world building was something I’d never seen and they abandoned the story, so I did fanfic of a fic. Never dared to post it anywhere I mean it was their world to begin with.

30. Do you accept prompts?

Of course, when inspiration is given I accept

31. Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

I don’t care about canon but I do love using it when there are little trivia to enrich the character.

32. How do you feel about smut?

Love to read it sometimes, would love to write it. Some I’m like………….youveneverhadsexhaveyou…………………

33. How do you feel about crack?

Love it!!!!!!!! I’m too self-conscious to write it tho. Oh maybe that could be a never before written trope I could try?

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

Rape I can’t, dub-con where underlying requited feelings exist but anxiety™ don’t let the characters express them but they’re drunk so it surfaces is okay

35. Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Hell yeah! I do when/if the death makes sense (I am still pissed at Kishi for Neji)

36. Which is your favorite site to post fic?

Ao3 is where I post,I used devianart when I had one

37. Talk about your current wips.

Marry Me for the Love of Cake: God I’m so sorry to the few people who followed it, I said I’d pick it up before the end of 2019 and well……I have the ending in bullet points

Yours, with Love: I hope I’ll finish it…I have most of the ending in bullet points

I guess I’m into rom com at the moment lolol

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

I made my best friend read All this for a Roll Cake, and she laughed so much at my work, I took a picture I look at from time to time to remain humble.

39. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Thankfully I’ve never received a rude review. My professor once told me it seemed kinda unnatural how unlucky my protagonist was vs. how lucky his love interest was (All this for a Roll Cake) but that was the whole point of the story so I just ignored her.

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

Writing this I realised I lost my final version of All this for a Roll Cake T^T so I guess I’d rewrite the ending I have of the before the last version I still have.

Well this was fun ^^ got to revisit my works and remember many beloved pieces of fiction I wrote, I look forward to my next projects

#have fun reading lolol #will writing this inspire me to continue my wip?#who knows

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 1 year

Text

In Another Life

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Rjp4Htg

by BillyGills

Gothamia didn’t need vigilantes. He was intimidating and powerful enough as Bruce Wayne, the Crown Prince. What his kingdom need was someone who wasn’t scary, someone who could be a gentle comfort and provide reassurance. Someone who was a target. Someone who could find out the truth, how the least powerful, least valued citizens were treated, and hopefully what the most powerful could do to help.

“Wait! Um... what’s your name?” Lila asked. Dammit. For all his contingencies, he hadn’t even come up with a fake name? What was wrong with him?

“My name isn’t important,” he said firmly, but not unkindly.

“Well, you just helped me a lot, I have to call you something!”

“Call me whatever you’d like,” Bruce turned, already pulling up his hood.

“How about Batman? That’s what that drunkard called you isn’t it?” Bruce paused a second.

Bruce gave her a miniature smile.

“Sure, if that works for you.”

Then he turned and left.

Batman it is.

A royalty au in which Alfred is the king of Gothamia, with Bruce as crown prince and a co-ruler. Let’s see how the introduction of each character goes differently in this new context.

Title is subject to change.

Words: 1367, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members

Additional Tags: will add more characters as they show up, Some minor character OCs, will add more tags as the fix goes on, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Modern Royalty, no beta we die like jason, minimal editing too, honestly this is barely even proofread, just be lucky it’s legible, Bruce Wayne is a good ruler, even though Alfred is the king, Bruce does a lot for his people, The reason this doesn’t have a rating or warnings, is because idk what’s gonna happen yet, you’re finding out when I’m finding out, I haven’t actually read the comics, or watched any of the movies, i only know Batman through pop culture osmosis and fanfiction, If some parts are weirdly skimpy, it’s because I’m glossing over my lack of knowledge, if characterization is bad that’s also why

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/Rjp4Htg

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the cape crusader #gotham #dc universe #ao3 #ao3feed

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reddieao3feed · 4 years

Text

Go on, it'll be late soon

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Mmgphm

by Mere_Mortifer

And Richie’s in love, in love, in love, now that it’s all about to end more than ever. He spends the next three days thinking how easy it would have been to lean down and kiss Eddie’s bloodied mouth – because, to be fair, that doesn’t sound any worse a promise than slicing your hand on a broken bottle to swear that if, when, needed he’ll be back to do it all over again.

Or: five times Richie almost kisses Eddie and one time Eddie takes matters into his own hands.

Words: 8337, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, The Losers Club (IT)

Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, POV Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Richie Tozier-centric, Soft Richie Tozier, Almost Kiss, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Pining, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Richie Tozier, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Light Angst, Fluff and Angst, Tropes, The Hammock (IT), The Jade of the Orient (IT), Deadlights (IT), Internalized Homophobia, Bickering, Lovesick Richie Tozier, Lovesickness, Reckless Use of Nicknames, no beta we die like men, But I did edit this for ten days straight, Love Confessions, Attempt at Humor, Homophobic Language, Nothing too bad just Eddie quoting something shitty Bowers said, Mentioned Maturin | The Turtle

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2Mmgphm

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #reddie #it (2017)#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak

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slytherin-puffskein · 5 years

Text

Ashen Feelings

If I could, then I would

I'll go wherever you will go

Way up high or down low, I'll go wherever you will go

* * *

art by @angrynar

* * *

Many thanks to @thecursedvaultchild for beta-reading and helping me with editing as well as finding a title !

* * *

For the amazing @narionblack <3 <3

* * *

“Your brother,” Duncan spits out, “is a coward. Worse than that, he is a liar. And a thief, as well as a thug.”

Noting Lau’s lack of reaction, the ghost sticks his chin high into the air, attempting to give himself a somewhat superior look. The redhead raises an eyebrow, waiting for what Duncan Ashe could possibly say. At this rate, it was almost entertaining... and he has to admit, he wants to hear what else the ghost could dish out about his brother.

“He’s arrogant, impatient, and insecure. I can’t believe I’ve allowed myself to trust him, that was the dumbest thing I’ve done. And it’s also the dumbest thing you are currently doing. You must be about to ask me where he is, huh ? Little brother wants a heartfelt reunion with his big brother ? That’s a pity, he—”

“Honestly, I just wanted to see what a ghost looked like up close.”

That is enough to make Duncan stop right in the middle of his sentence. He blinks one, two times, and then his eyes proceed to widen so bad, Lau fears they might fall out of their sockets in a plop noise.

“You... what?”

Behind him, Lau can clearly hear Charlie and Bill sigh in discouragement. They’re pretty disappointed with the fact that there won’t be any argument about Laurent’s brother, it’s clear with the way their faces look: corners of their lips hanging down, and eyebrows knit tightly into a disappointed frown. Who knew the Weasleys were that into King family drama.

Snap! Duncan’s finger snapping brings Lau back to the present, and the Slytherin blinks at the ghost.

“You... just showed up here so you could see me?”

“Ayup. I know ya worked with my brother, but frankly, it’s the least of my concerns. Right now I mostly have a couple of questions: how do you m—"

Visibly, Duncan figures out what Lau is about to ask, because he immediately cuts him off. “Bug off! All three of you! I don’t want anything to do with a bunch of pathetic guys like you!”

Is it because we’re gingers?

Thankfully, Lau refrains from asking that, and simply shrugs and turns to the two brothers.

“Well, I can try and ask my ghost related questions to the Bloody Baron. C’mon, let’s go.”

The sound of shoes scraping against the floor and Duncan is left alone.

* * *

“So then, he looked at me like, ‘are you in a band ?’ and I said, ‘I’m totally in a band,' while I’m absolutely not. Long story short, I have a music practise with a bunch of Hufflepuffs who got weirdly addicted to Queen. Think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

Laurent Dorian King, once again pulling himself into impossible scenarios. At first, when they were still on the phase of getting to know each other, Skylar had assumed he was straight up lying about his mischief-making for some reason. Probably to be more interesting. However, much to his confusion, everything that had ever spilled out of Laurent’s mouth had turned out to be absolutely true... so at that very moment in the Great Hall, as Laurent tells him he’s now apparently part of a group of Queen fans, Skylar can only snicker and pat Lau’s back.

“You are impossible. And what if they find out you’re a fraud?”

“Then you come into the picture,” Lau muses, pressing his finger against Skylar’s nose. “You pretend to be my manager and tell these guys that I have other musical plans concerning other bands, so I have to leave 'em. Think they will buy it? I, for one, am fairly sure. If not, I have another plan, using mainly spoons—"

“Hello, Skylar!”

Huh? Now, he was visibly interrupted. He stares at his dish, considering the idea that Dumblebore might have decided to add talking cutlery to Hogwarts’s inventory, but no. Now standing by the two boys is a group of girls, faces covered in heavy makeup and wearing skirts way too short to be respecting the uniform protocol. A brown-haired girl, who appears to be the leader, smiles lusciously at Skylar.

“How are you doing today?”

Ah, here we go again. Frankly, Laurent should have expected that. How long have they been sitting at the Ravenclaw table again? Five, ten minutes? It was only a matter of seconds before the Morningstar groupies would make their entrance. And now, here they are.

The Morningstar groupies, as Lau amiably calls them, is a group of mainly Ravenclaw girls stalking Skylar Morningstar with the hopes of scoring a date with him. To their eyes, the mysterious, silent Ravenclaw boy was the most delicious thing to have walked Earth’s surface, and so, they had to somehow gain his attention. While people are mostly discreet when interested with someone, these girls are... awfully forward. Luckily, Skylar is awfully forward with them as well, and makes no hesitation with telling them off.

However, repeatedly rejecting creepy girls must get tiring, no? With that specific thought in mind, Laurent King decides for once to give his dear friend a hand, quite literally. With little regard of the gazes currently on them, Laurent’s hand finds Skylar’s, which is resting on the table, and curls his fingers between his friend’s before pressing their palms together and proudly showing it off to the girls towering over them.

“He’s doing quite well, I’ll tell you that. I just declared him my manager, so we’re gonna celebrate a bit.”

Confusion spread across the groupies’ faces and the leader blinks.

“Ma...nager, King ?”

“Mhm. I just joined a band I have no business to join, so my dear knight in shining armour offered to help me.”

Shamelessly, as if he is doing an everyday action, he pulls himself on his friend’s lap, gently kissing his temple and giggling like a schoolgirl. “Isn’t he just the best of the best ? Makes me wanna squish his cheeks.~”

Skylar’s internal monologue can be summed up with two sentences:

What kind of thoughts travel through Lau’s mind for him to do such things?

And I can and will die for this guy, just let him tell me when he needs it.

Laurent’s thin fingers begin to thread through Skylar’s hair and the girls all look at each other before the leader awkwardly clears her throat.

“Well, er... we’ll see you guys around, then”

A girl attempts to wink at Skylar, but she is only met with Lau’s burning stare. She refrains and walks away along with her friends.

Once they are out of earshot, the two boys roar with laughter, which echoes through the entire Great Hall and fills it with joy.

* * *

It was to be expected, the Morningstar Groupies got... quite gossipy.

In the span of a few hours, the rumour that Laurent Dorian King was dating Skylar Morningstar was on everyone’s lips, and no one would even talk about anything else. Everyone was marvelling over the newest pairing, even Peeves, Hogwarts’s poltergeist. While he isn’t generally interested in relationships, he is however genuinely wondering how such an odd match happened. Skylar and Laurent, seriously? Wasn’t the Slytherin drooling over that Lee kid just a few days ago? Much to Peeves’ joy as he finally had something to tease him about. Now, his blackmail material was reduced to dust!

The rumour spread through the entire school in record time, even faster than the one implying that Andre Egwu had made out with Summer Charn (it turned out to be false, however.) Soon enough, it had reached everyone’s ears...

Living, or dead.

“I can’t believe people are so... gullible. No offence, Sky, but there are tons of guys I’d date before you.”

“Like Whitecross?” the Ravenclaw teases, gently nudging his friend.

Lau dramatically throws his head to the back, sighing. “Skyyyy! That was a year ago! I moved on. Besides, he’s totally with Snyde right now.”

“Moved on, huh? So you got someone else in mind? Do tell.~”

“I’m fairly sure you know, Morningstar.”

After all, Lau’s crush on Barnaby Lee was obvious to everyone... except Barnaby himself. Good thing or… not? Laurent isn’t very sure of what to think. Every single time he had attempted to confess, Barnaby entirely missed the point and ended up asking him to hang at the Magical Creatures Reserve. Reluctantly, he had accepted each time.

As Skylar and Lau step into yet another hallway, a familiar figure meets their eyes, and it only takes King a few seconds to recognize his dear, ghostly friend. Well, friend is maybe not the best term... but he’ll use it anyway, for the sole purpose of annoying Duncan Ashe.

The closer they get to Duncan, the bigger Laurent smiles as an idea forges itself into his mind. Raising his chin and turning to Skylar, the redhead’s voice gets louder in order to attract the ghost’s attention.

“So, when will our first date be then, hmm?”

Skylar’s gaze, however, is set on Duncan, and Lau can’t help but playfully roll his eyes.

Man, don’t look at him like that, you look constipated. Is that how I look like when I admire Barnaby? Whatever.

Duncan turns to them, grimacing. “Your little play can’t fool me, King. Not with the way your eyes are always on Lee.”

Oh? So he doesn’t believes the rumours? Change of plans, then. Quickly enough, he twists his strategies a little, and comes up with something brand new.

“My eyes may be set on Lee, but I am always open for new options. Sometimes it’s good to mix things up, Ashe. Besides, you never answered my question: how do you t—"

“Whatever, I shouldn’t be wasting my time talking to the two of you. Obviously, you have idiotic rumours to fuel. I have more important matters to attend to.”

“Like floating around and sulking?” Lau suggests, with a smile on his face.

Duncan’s face gets paler for a moment, that usually happens when he feels the need to kick Laurent’s ass, but he quickly cools down as his eyes meet Skylar’s. In fact, he entirely calms down and a small glint passes across Laurent’s eyes.

Oh.

Laurent might be into Barnaby.

But Duncan might be into someone as well.

Now, he had always sort of doubted it. As opposed to Lau, Skylar is actually fairly close with Duncan, despite their occasional bickering (but honestly, what is a conversation with Duncan Ashe without it?) And Lau has always felt... like something has been going on between the two of them.

However, it was also crystal clear that they were stalling. Neither of them wanted to make the first move, it was painfully obvious. And so, now that Lau is aware that his friend needs some help to flirt with a cute ghost, he will definitely lend him a hand. And once again, he will do it quite literally, because he had found out something: whenever a girl would bat her eyelashes at Barnaby, Laurent would immediately find a way to hang out and even flirt with him. So if he uses that logic...

“I am not floating around and sulking, King. I am actually doing very interesting...”

Duncan trails off as he notices that the distance between Lau and Skylar had drastically diminished, and that they are now holding hands. By staring into Laurent’s eyes, Duncan can see that it is not in order to fuel the new rumour in case a student sees them at this very moment. No, Laurent is doing it because he wants to.

Laurent smirks. Or well, he thinks I want to. He’s soon going to start thinking I’m actually longing for Morningstar if I play my acting game well enough. Perhaps joining that theatre club with Penny had been a good idea, after all...

“Mhm... pardon me, Sky, I’m pretty tired all of a sudden... all that prank planning and stuff...”

Gently, Lau rests his head against Sky’s shoulder, and scoots even closer to him before squeezing his hand. Skylar can only smile, because if there is one thing to know about Laurent Dorian King, it is that he is a very cuddly person. Why push him away, when he is such a darling? With that in mind, Skylar only remains still as Lau clings against him like a cuddly Puffskein... which he is awfully similar to, in all honesty.

Duncan forces himself to tear his gaze away from their intertwined fingers, and stares straight into Skylar’s eyes, as if he is looking for an answer. However, he can only see the darkness of his pupils. “So are you guys going to keep this rumour going for months, or what ?”

“As long as it takes until my ‘fans’ lay off, I suppose. I have a hunch that they... sort of fear Lau.”

“They fear that?”

He points a pale, almost translucent finger to the redhead currently stroking his cheek against Skylar’s arm. Now, Duncan can feel ambers of fire light up inside of him, filling his cold body with a warmth he isn’t used to.

And isn’t certain he likes it.

It feels familiar, like back to when I was alive. I felt it, once... but what it is? I don’t feel so good, that’s something that’s entirely certain.

Before he can puke, if that's even possible for a ghost, he leers at the two boys, stuffing his hands into his pockets and huffing.

“Whatever. As I said, I do not need to talk to you both.”

Maybe I need to talk to one of you.

Skylar opens his mouth, as if to speak, but before he can make out anything, the ghost is already gone.

And he is now alone with Lau, still pressing against him and his gaze remaining on the spot Duncan Ashe had been only a few minutes ago.

That was oddly effective.

Now, he only has to wait until Duncan finally makes a move.

* * *

It is dark in the hallways of Hogwarts as Duncan wanders aimlessly around. He often does that, especially when he needs to clear his mind. While he had spent the rest of the day inside of the Prefect’s Bathroom, now was time to actually walk around and— well, not really walk. Float was a more accurate word. Float around and try to empty his thoughts.

When he had woken up as a ghost, he had been relieved, as a certainty that he wouldn’t have to worry about things anymore had struck him. But only now, he is realizing how terribly wrong he had been. He is still worrying about the Vaults. He is still worrying over the fate of his old friends. And most of all, he is worrying over himself... and whatever he has with Skylar.

Morningstar. That special, special boy, who could make his feelings swirl inside of his chest like a goddamn hurricane. At first, he had attempted to shut that storm off, to ignore it, but now that he had witnessed Laurent’s awful touchiness, it was only getting stronger to the point he couldn’t simply do nothing.

His hands balls up into fists as the realization dawns upon him at last, after years and years of looking away.

I like him.

#my writing #lau king #skylar morningstar #duncan ashe #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery jacob's sibling #hogwarts mystery mc #hphm mc #hphm jacob's sibling

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