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fluesterscherben · 4 months

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Wen Xu was mostly acting on orders when he burned the Cloud Recesses. Mostly. His father had not explicitly ordered him to burn the Jingshi, burn Madam Lan's (oh how it hurts to call her that, how it hurts that no one dares speak her name - maybe out of hatred, maybe indifference, how it hurts that the only alternative he has tastes like ash on his tounge - has become unspeakable from the day his father claimed him as his son.) prison.

But here he stands, surrounded by embers and licking flames and watches it turn to ash. Burning gentians, he finds, are beautiful. He does not know if that beauty comes from the sight itself or from the feeling he attaches to it, a soul deep sigh of endless relief.

(She has moved on long ago, glad to escape the confinement of her prison, her only lingering regret leaving her children behind, but he has not. He is still that same little boy who- her death did not free him.)

Someone screams behind him, a scream of anger and desperation and more on instinct than anything else he dodges the sword lunging for his back. Qingheng-zun stumbles past him, likely overwhelmed by his sword's unexpected velocity.

He does not look like the hero the ballads portray him as, nor like the monster Wen Xu had imagined from the tales his Zhuliu-shu had told him of their youth. He is not an enemy, not some misguided hero. Just an old man past his prime who desperately clings to a feeling he has convinced himself was love.

Somehow that realisation doesn't make the bitter hatred the man who has nothing left to call himself but Wen Xu has harboured since he was a small child inside the husk he calls his heart shrivel up or grow. It just stays there where it has always been. He almost wants to laugh. Qingheng-zun is just a person. Just a man.

The sword is swung towards Wen Xu again, unskilled and weak from twenty years of unmoving sollitude. He does not even bother to block it, only makes half a step to the side.

This time he does laugh.

The dark look of pure hatred and weak stab into thin air that greet him in return are quite amusing. Qingheng-zun has no reason to hate him. No, that man his brought this onto himself the moment he walked out of the Nightless City with a bride in his arms and left a five year old behind in a snake pit to either grow scales and fangs or fall victim to an angry dragon.

"I am", he says and smiles, the smile he knows is his mother's from the reaction his father has to it, shrewd and innocent all at once, as he dodges another blow, his sword still sheathed, "no more than a filial son."

The roar that earns him is fierce. The sword swings again, this time with more force. "That dog Wen Rouhan!", Qingheng-zun screams while the blade is still in the air. This time Wen Xu does draw his sword and block.

He swings in kind, draws blood as a silver Lan sword clatters to the ground. He kicks the blade away with his foot. He needs to say it now. He needs to say it now before he never does. "I never said I was being filial to my father, Sect Leader Lan."

"Madam Wen has no grievan-"

"And Madam Wen is not my mother. I am the oldest, but I am not his heir." I was lucky, he does not say.

He makes one step forward, brings his sword to Sect Leader Lan's neck. "My mother died an other man's wife."

Those eyes widen in horrified realisation and he can't help but feel a grim sense of satisfaction at that look. He presses the blade closer into the old man's flesh, deep enough to draw blood.

"You did this to yourself."

He flicks his wrist and slits one more throat in his short bloody life. He feels no satisfaction, no remorse.

In another life this would not have happened. In another life maybe- It does not matter.

In this lifetime he stands in white stained with red, stained himself, so completely soaked in blood that all he will ever be is scarlet red. (The oly way to purge himself is death, but his own hand trembles around the hilt of his sword.)

Later that day he sees that same hatred Qingheng-zun had for him in Lan Wangji's eyes and he knows down to his guilty bones that he was right in dismissing his wishful thinking.

Let them hate him. Let them, he deserves it.

Before he dies he whispers his secret into his executioner's ear. He does not want to die with it weighing him down.

"She was my mother first."

(In an other life children walk across the Lan Sect compound off in direction of their mother's house for their monthly visit.

"Hurry!", A'Zhan calls. It seems to be his favorite word as much as a four year old can have a favorite word. "Hurry!"

"Right, gege, hurry!", A'Huan chimes in. "I want to see A'Niang."

"Alright, alright!"

Lan Xu lets them drag him along under laughter, his plain white Sect ribbon fluttering behind him like a war banner in the wind.)

#mdzs #mdzs au #wen xu #au #fanfic #fanfiction #look i love this stupid headcanon so much #brothers #tragic hero wen xu #kinda

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mrsarnasdelicious · 8 months

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Service and Sollitude

"Undress." It is an order, given without turning to face you. "Bu-but... sire." You mumble. "You heard me." He says. He is still not turning towards you.

This is not the first time he's given you the order. But it is the first time he sounds determined and strict. This is the first time he means it. Before he had chuckled and given you the chance to leave. You originally thought he just likes to see you flustered and embarrassed. But today, he means it.

"Now!" His voice echoes through the vast cavernous bedroom.

"Yes, sire." You mutter. He turns to you as you begin to undo the laces of your dress. "Very good." Emhyr murmur. You flush brightly. "That is such a comely sight." He purrs.

He comes over, placing his hand over yours. "Help me with my armour first." He says. His voice is oddly gentle. "Yes, sire." You mutter. You help him with the straps and clasps of his breastplate. He looks at you with eagle eyes. You try your hardest not to look back at up at him. Something about those eyes threatens to suck you in.

Once you have removed his armour, the Emperor steps away. "Your dress." He says. "Yes, sire." You mutter. You undo the rest of your lacings and let your dress slide to the floor. It leaves you in a light white underdress and your smalls.

Emhyr looks at you with abject greed.

He draws your body against his. "Close your eyes." He growls. You oblige slowly. "Good girl." He whispers. He leans in. You feel his hot breath on your face. You can't help but quiver a little. Emhyr chuckles, low in his throat.

He grabs you by the waist and tosses you onto his bed.

You squeal in surprise, but are given no time to recover from the slight, albeit pleasant shock. He is on top of you within a second. His mouth presses firmly against yours. Your heart stops. You have quietly yearned for this moment. You put your arms around his neck. Emhyr growls against your lips. He then deepens the kiss.This practically forces you to respond. You moan and open up for him.

His tongue licks into your mouth right away.

You moan, tangling your fingers into his ebony hair. Emhyr groans darkly in reply. He lowers his body against yours. You can feel his muscles move through your clothes and his. You whimper and press yourself up against him. Emhyr slowly breaks away. He looks down on you and smirks. "Look at how quickly I turned you on." He murmurs.

He leans down again, placing his lips on your neck.

You can't help wanton moan after wanton moan escaping you when Emhyr begins to cover every inch of your jaw, neck and throat with kisses. He groans gruffly against your skin. Even the sound of him turns you on. Everything about him so so virile. Maybe that is why they call him the white flame. Because he burns with almost a visible passion. It is incredibly attractive.

"You understand what I a going to do to you, correct?" He murmurs. "To me, or with me?" You venture to tease. A small smirk pulls at Emhyr's lips. You can press it against your throat. "You are a clever woman." He whispers. "I know." You cooe. "So you most certainly understand what I will do with you." He replies. "Yes." You affirm.

"Good." He murmurs.

His lips venture to your collarbone. You moan and arch up at him. "So eager." He purrs. He nips and sucks at your skin. You twist your fingers into his dark hair. Gods, he is so good at this! He groans as you pull his hair. His teeth press tighter into your skin.

"Out of your shift." He backs up a little. You gather the bottom of your under dress in your hands and draw it up over your head. You breasts bounce free. Emhyr looks greedily at them. You become a bit flustered by the intensity of his gaze.

He cups your breast with a large hand. You shudder at how nice it feels. Gently Emhyr begins to massage your breast. You arch into his touch. "Do you like this?" He asks sharply. "Yes sire, I do." You whimper.

"Call me Emhyr." The Emperor says. "Yes ... Yes Emhyr." You taste his name on your tongue. It is a powerful name. It stirrs something amorous inside you.

His fingers rub and twist at your nipples. You writhe a little and moan sweetly for him. Emhyr leans in to lick at your left nipple. You tug at his hair and moan rather loudly. Never have you experienced sensation like this. And by the gods do you crave more.

"My guess is that you like it." Emhyr growls. "I do." You whisper. "Good, I want you to enjoy this." He replies.

He switches to your right breast, lavishing your flesh with mouth and tongue. "G-gods... more." You whimper. "Yes." Emhyr whispers hotly. He sucks down on your nipple and gropes your other breast with a firm hand. You arch into his touch.

"You are such a good girl." He growls hotly.

He rolls off of you to take off his breeches. "Should I help?" You cooe. A smile tugs at Emhyr's lips. "You may, if you wish." He purrs. You reach out to him. Emhyr looks up at you. There is something vulnerable in his face. He is alone, searching for intimacy in your lap and bossom. And you are glad to give it to him.

You help him out of his breeches and smalls. He is very handsome. In every single place. There is no scar that mars him and no imperfection on his body. You wonder if that is by magic, or if he just takes such good care of himself. Either way, you sit and marvel at him for a little while. "Touch me." Says Emhyr. You know by his voice that he needs it. He needs to be touched. You reach out running your fingers down his chest, then his belly and his thighs. His cock is twitching slightly at your approach. "Go on." Emhyr murmurs. You smile a small smile at him and curl your fingers around his cock. He inhales sharply, a hissing breath between his teeth.

Slowly you begin to jerk him off.

For a moment it seems like Emhyr is trying to remain composed. But then moans rise from his throat. And they sound surprisingly desperate. He truly has been needing this. He has been so starved for your touch. And by the gods you are so ready to give him what he needs. And you are also very ready to take from him what you want. And you want all of him.

You wriggle to change position and lean in to take him into your mouth. “Gods...” Emhyr hisses. He finds his head is spinning. He was not expecting this! You smirk around his cock and swallow down more of him. “Gah!” Emhyr cries out, falling into the cushions. Evidently he hasn’t gotten his cock sucked in a good long while. You take him down to the root, though only briefly. It has him clawing at the sheets. You taste his desperate precum on the tip of his cock. You moan sweetly and tongue at his slit. Emhyr squirms and makes all sorts of unkingly, desperate noises. You adore the sounds of him. You adore the taste of him. Once again yoh sallow him down to the root, this time holding on slightly longer.

And then you let him slip from your mouth altogether.

“I think it is time now.” Emhyr murmurs. “Yes sire.” You whisper. You know what he intends. And you want him, too. You want him so badly!

You lay down for him, spreading your legs for him. “Good girl, very good.” Emhyr praises warmly. He wastes no more time and lines up. You moan as the head of his cock prods against your core. “You are mine now.” He whispers. You nod mutely. You just want him to claim you now. Your mind is void of anything else. Emhyr presses on. He breaches your core and he spreads you open, impaling you on his cock. You moan loudly. It is so fucking good.

“Fuck me, oooh yes, My King.” You moan.

And he fucks you. Slow and deep. He hits that special spot inside you and at exactly the right pace. It is perfect. You are breathless with it, scratching at his beautifully sculpted shoulders. Emhyr grunts softly. “You feel so good.” He whispers. “You do too.” You reply. He leans down to kiss you slowly and you moan into his mouth. Emhyr moans in return. His tongue caresses your and he sucks on your lips. It is sweet and at the same time very intense.

But then he picks up the pace, breaking the kiss to tower over you. He slams into you, over and over again. He is chasing his climax. You can only take it, let him do as he pleases. You moan upon every thrust and feel your own climax approach. Though you know every well penetration isn’t going to be enough. You know he needs to give you a little more if he wants you to cum as well.

Though you are not sure if you can ask him for it.

“M-more...” You stammer. Emhyr understands what you need. His thumb finds the top of your folds. He rubs around for your clit and moan when he finds it. “This?” He asks softly. “Y-yes my lord.” You moan. Emhyr smiles gently to you and begins to rub you carefully. Continuous little moans tumble from your lips. You just cannot help yourself. It feels so good. “So close.” You whine. “What more?” Emhyr asks. “Ju-just.. just more.” You manage. “More of this?” He verifies. You nod quietly. He keeps rubbing you, carefully and tenderly. And it is enough. It is just right. You feel the lighting in your spine and the tension in your muscles release. Warmth spreads through your lower belly and your inner walls contract on Emhyr’s cock. “Gods.” He groans. You can feel him twitch inside you.

“I’ll cum too.” He groans. You nod minutely. “Do it, Your Grace, fill me with your seed.” You whisper, kissing at his jaw. Emhyr groans again and you hear something akin to desperation. “I .. oh.. I will.” He gasps. His thrusts become uneven and his breath ragged. He shoves himself as deeply inside you as he can manage, spending himself with a loud grunt.

“Thank you, My Emporer.” You whisper, drawing him into a kiss. He moans against your lips and spends a little more. “You deserve it.” He whispers into your mouth. “You deserve to have my child. You deserve my love.” He rumbles darkly.

#emhyr var emreis #emhyr x reader #Bard Edwards #the witcher #smut under the cut

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thatscarletflycatcher · 3 months

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Women + sollitude + the sea (oil on canvas)

Elena en la Playa (1909) by Joaquín Sorolla - Jacqueline Sandberg (1876-1976) in den Dünen. Strand von Scheveningen, 1898 by Isaac Israëls - At the Baltic Sea beach by Hermann Seeger - En Pige ved Stranden. Hornbæk by Peder Severin Krøyer - Dame i Klitten. Tisvilde by Ludvig Christian Møgelgaard - Ung kvinde i lyserød kjole på Skagen Sønderstrand (1910) by Michael Peter Ancher

#art #women #the sea #stuff of dreams

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voidxfound · 9 months

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@dreamswideawake send: "Mortis, I believe?" The Poet stepped forward with a clink of his cane against the floor. A jesters grin spread across his lips, eyes sparkling intensely. "Let's talk." (Iamsosorry)

It pays a man to be suspicious of such intrusions. Apart from his sermons and days of worship, Adam spent his time in solitude, enjoying wine and reading spiritual materials. As he says to his following, he likes to keep his mind open and intellectual.

So, the intrustion into his sollitude was brought with much distain. Narrowed eyes watched the stranger and there was immediately a feeling of uncertainity. What kind of visit was this?

"I don't take guests without prior notice. I'm an extremely busy man," Well, not really at the moment but he was trying to prove a point but still, his book was put to the side really reluctantly, "I hope what you want to discuss is going to be life changing; or else I'm going to be very annoyed,"

#never apologise Amy XD #I love this XD #answered.#🌹𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗰𝗹𝘂𝗲🌹 ( replies )

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stcrycreator · 1 year

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dean motioned to the bartender, pointing to his drink asking for another one . raising the glass to liquor coated lips as his eyes glances to the red head . she'd been following him , he hardly had a reason not to be paranoid these days, there was always something - someone right behind him . a cloaked figure, a shadow, there was no such thing as sollitude anymore. and someone like this one ? she stood out, as blatant as a match in a dark room. it wasn't paranoia anymore, that notion that niggled in the corner of mind has long since passed, instead replaced with the want to face this head on.

once the drink is planted on the sticky, alcohol stained surface - he's picking it up, standing from the bar and moving to the corner booth, weaving in and out of the crowd, eyes never leaving the woman ; when he finally makes it over, he's slamming the glass down harshly in front of her, slipping opposite her.

❛ have a drink with me. ❜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀/⠀⠀⠀⠀@sinshosted .

#I HAVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO WRITE I THINK OH MY GODDDD #JESUS IM BETTER THAN THIS I SWEAR. PLEASE IM A STAR. IM A STAR !#sinshosted #ava ire * dean corso.#* ∙ ⌗ ◞ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐎 ✗ replies .

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tessastormrp · 1 year

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❝ look, i dunno if i’m the kind of person you need or even want right now. but i’m looking around and i’m the only one who’s here. ❞

{Jace to Aemond}

"Sometimes sollitude is preferable, Nephew." Aemond said snidely. "Why do you insist on inflicting your company on me?"

#Damn Aemond be nice

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p9fttt · 6 months

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somewhere (2010), dir. sofia coppola

#somewhere #sofia coppola #directed by women #movies #mine #i wasn't expecting that but it's easily my favourite movie of hers #case: sollitude

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aisakalegacy · 2 years

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1882. Adèle et Jacqueline se rencontrent pour discuter de poésie et de littérature.

Du fait de son immortalité, Adèle est celle qui a le plus évolué de cette histoire. Immigrée de 2e génération, sans instruction, elle commence à travailler en tant que servante dès son adolescence, jusqu’à ce qu’elle épouse Jacques. À sa mort, elle est une “paysanne sans instruction”, comme la qualifie Auguste.

Après sa transformation et une fois “tranquilisée”, Frédéric Rumédier lui propose un arrangement : il est gay, ce qui est illégal au Canada à cette époque, et il a besoin d’une couverture afin de ne pas être inquiété et de faire taire les rumeurs à son sujet. Adèle, quant à elle, a besoin d’une raison pour revenir à Hylewood. Elle doit donc l’épouser et devenir “sa femme” aux yeux de tous - un mariage de convenance, qui les arrange tous les deux. Mais il paraitrait scandaleux que le fils aîné d’une famille prestigieuse comme les Rumédier épouse n’importe qui. Ainsi, pendant deux ans, à Kingston, Frédéric s’assure de lui faire prodiguer l’éducation que toute jeune femme de bonne famille reçoit normalement, de façon à ce que personne ne questionne son origine sociale, et donc son identité. En 1860 Adèle est prête : Frédéric l’épouse et l’amène à Hylewood.

Rejetée par Auguste après lui avoir appris la vérité, Adèle cherche à de nombreuses reprises à se rapprocher de son enfant, son dernier né qu’elle n’a pas connu. Mais cela a l’effet inverse : Auguste la considère désormais comme un danger, tant pour lui que pour sa famille, et refuse de la laisser s’approcher.

Quand Jacqueline propose à Adèle de passer du temps en sa compagnie, elle accepte autant pour briser sa sollitude que pour avoir encore une chance d’essayer de se rapprocher de sa famille - son fils et ses petits-enfants. En effet, l’immortalité et la richesse lui offrant de nouvelles perspectives quant à la gestion de son temps libre, Adèle a complété son instruction pendant les deux décennies qui ont suivi son mariage. Jacqueline voit donc en Adèle quelqu’un de différent des épouses bourgeoises de l’île : une véritable interlocutrice qui partage ses intérêts et ses passions. Une véritable amie, et pas un énième correspondant européen lointain.

#ts3 #simblr #legacy challenge #history challenge #decades challenge #lebris #lebrisdivers

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