#thirteen elder stories

[chromaticlera]

Night Reading my beloved….

They’ve consumed my brain for weeks

#Echo of Night Thunder #Thirteen Elder Stories #night reading #art #my art #rain world #rain world downpour #Group Alpha #chrome art #ship art

[groupalpha]

GA Regions: Thirteen Elder Stories

MY OLLLLDDDD MAAAAAANNNNNNNN

Hnnnng. Yeah.... Enjoy! Ask questions on this if you'd like! :)

Map Guide under cut!

#rain world #rain world oc #rw oc #rain world iterator #rain world iterator oc #iterator oc #rw iterator #iterator #rw iterator oc #thirteen elder stories #ga regions #ga world building

[dustballdrawsartwork]

Just some more detailed drawings of mine. Hope you guys like it! :D

#rain world #rain world oc #rw slugcat #rw iterator #rw overseer #rw oc #rw group alpha #iterator oc #slugcat oc #the savior #the crossroader #the amalgamation #the collector #twelve far away dreams #last string of life #endless beyond #ruby skies by sapphire shores #extracted prism sunsets #thirteen elder stories #sunrise solar starlight lunar #eight crashing tides

[khattikeri]

you ever wake up and think about nie huaisang's entirely off-screen journey?

(thirteen years.) do you think about how easy and yet nauseating it must've felt for nie huaisang to use his own childhood self as a mask? to maintain the appearance of a vapid child quick to run to others and whine instead of setting aside hobbies and trying to figure out how to work through responsibility?

(thirteen years.) what was he thinking? surely he didn't formulate everything to a tee in one sitting. how long had he taken until he was fully sinking into the balancing act of pretending he hadn't changed one bit in front of all the other clans, in front of his elder brother's close sworn brothers, while running the qinghe nie sect well enough behind the scenes to still maintain their unequivocal loyalty and respect?

(thirteen years.) do you think he hated himself now and then for becoming so quietly manipulative and focused on the ends over the means? looked at himself in the mirror at times and had to turn away because he saw a flicker of the one man he was trying to permanently unravel in revenge, the man his brother despised for always stooping to trickery?

(thirteen years.) how often did he get nightmares of qi deviations and being attacked, of that near-miss opportunity to save his older brother? the war and aftermath changed his school friends permanently and nie huaisang, in spite of his ability to worm his way out of things he didn't want to confront, was not an exception. how long until he got used to shoving his own squeamishness aside, accepting losses and violence and collateral damage and pain to other people for his own goals?

(thirteen years.) it drives me crazy. it drives me so damn crazy that mdzs is a story told from the perspective of wei wuxian. crazy that a few choice words and meaningful reactions at guanyin temple are the only reason we know even a fraction of what nie huaisang did over those years and why.

(thirteen years.) lan wangji and jiang wanyin were not the only ones who had to bear with the weight of time on their grief.

how many fans and paintbrushes can a person collect in thirteen years? (i don't know, i don't know, i don't know.)

#keri chats #nie huaisang #mdzs #mdzs spoilers #mdzs meta #man. god. what the hell is he DOING #there's so much i want to know... mxtx why... come back... hes everything to me mxtx miss ma'am... #on a related note if anyone has gen fic recs for nhs PLEASE for the love of GOD give them to me

[spacebarbarianweird]

Hi! Could you do HCs for Astarion with a Archfey Warlock!Tav. Since fey are well known for trickery and Astarion is known for trickery at times as well. Thank you :)

Archfeys are god-like Feys seen as deities by their worshippers. They are difficult to kill and often unpredictable. A warlock can form a pact with a Fey patron. The magic bestowed upon fey pact warlocks can be enchanting while retaining the savage lethality common to the Feywild. Warlocks who focused all their attention on dealing with fey spirits might have become one of the feytouched, half-mad spellcasters who slipped between the Feywild and the Prime Material Plane as they wished.

More info

There are many Arcwfeys to choose from (I recommend reading about them, they are insanely cool). I chose Nintra Siotta for the following headcanon - a chaotic evil entity. 

Astarion x Archfey Warlock! Tav

You never wanted to be a warlock.

But Feys don't ask, they take.

When you were thirteen, you almost died.

You were comatose for a year and when you woke you had a Fey pact.

You don't remember who made the pact with you. The archfey erased your memories.

You don't know the conditions. The rules.

The price.

Your powers are of a dark and wild nature.

You try not to use them but the Archfey dominates you and make you spell cast against your will.

Adding more and more to the pile of debt you already have.

You search for answers but you know you won't like them.

You are a puppet in the hands of someone evil and chaotic.

The tadpole gives you freedom. It blocks your connection with the Archfey. And you feel free from her never-sleeping eyes.

You know the fear Astarion has - to return to the master. To the master you don't know but whom you owe.

You promise Astarion to deal with Cazador because you hate when people are held against their will.

When you tell him your whole story, he also gives you a promise. He is a magistrate, after all.

He can look at the contract.

The problem is that you don't remember having it.

You don't want to make pacts with the devils and you fear the Emperor and whatever awaits you.

And you decide to contact your patron, to see who it is.

The misty hands drag you to another plane.

Here she is, the Princess of the Shadow Glass, powerful and hateful.

She hands you a list of every spell you've ever used.

With all the debts.

"You are mine, little warlock, and you will do as I say. I saved your pathetic life when you were a child and gave you powers of the Fey. Now, you pay me back by serving me and fighting for me. Your life, your sanity, it all belongs to me."

Finally you have a copy of the contract. The Fey glamour wanes, and you remember that you were forced to sign it to survive.

A scared little child who didn't know the price.

And you are going to get into into more debt.

"Help me defeat the Elder Brain."

Niitra agrees.

She gives you more powers. More dark spells. Agonizing blasts, domination, masks. All yours.

You are pushed back into the Prime and wake up in the streets of Baldur's Gate only to rush into the battle.

You win. You save everyone from their peril. The Emperor is destroyed so is the Brain.

Astarion runs away from the sun in pain and suffering, and when you find him, you promise to save him as well.

But you have your own chains. The Archfey calls upon you and makes you do cruel things.

Killing for her, striking fear.

Astarion reads your contract and doesn't find any loopholes. You will have to serve the Archfey till your days end.

You are doomed to lose your sanity, to be Feytouched.

Astarion promises he will be with you no matter what.

"Do you want more, my little warlock? Do you want to save him? I can make him mortal again, I can let him walk in the sun."

And you agree.

You wake up in some abandoned place without Astarion by your side.

You've spent seven years in Feywild. Another evil trick.

You don't know where to go and what to do. To search for Astarion? But where is he? Did the Archfey keep her promise?

Is he mortal? Can he walk in the sun?

Your sanity is slipping away.

You are Feytouched. A mad warlock.

Even if you meet Astarion, you won't recognize him.

And should Niitra order you, you will kill him on her demand.

The Prime, Feywild, interdimensional places - you go wherever she orders.

You try to grasp your sanity but it slips through your fingers.

How long has it been? A year? A decade? A millennium?

You don't know anymore.

Until one day you're awakened in chains.

A familiar man stands in front of you.

Silver curls, a tender look.

But he has the body warmth of a mortal and his eyes are the color of emeralds.

"Hello, my sweet, it's been a while," Astarion says. "Two centuries, to be precise."

The Archfey kept her promise and made him mortal. But you paid for it with two hundred years of slavery.

"I woke up mortal back then without you by my side. That bitch of yours told me I should go away because you are hers."

Astarion never gave up. He searched for you. Some even thought you were his archnemesis, as he was obsessed with finding you.

Unfortunately, you can't just walk away from the Feys. Nyitra has many enemies, including Titania.

Astarion made a deal with her. Now he is her warlock - and he used his newly found powers to kill the Princess of the Shadow Glass.

To save you. To return your sanity.

"Don't you worry, my sweet, I've made a very fair contract."

You return to the world with him. Free from your chains with him, a mortal elf by your side.

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

#spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #tav x astarion #archfey #warlock #dnd warlock #archfey warlock #Nintra Siotta #titania #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion ancunin #mortal astarion

[mortalfaerie]

𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕛𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕖𝕣𝕪𝕤' 𝕥𝕨𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 (+ 𝕚𝕟 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕖𝕟𝕒) (pt 1)

this concept is stuck in my brain so...

your were always in the shadow of your twin, jacaerys. he was born only ten minutes before you, but in doing so had outshined you for a lifetime.

while your grandfather might have bent the law further for you if you had been born first, he wouldn't do so for the rest of the realm - and being a girl, the birth of your immediately younger brother meant you wouldn't inherit driftmark, either.

that's not to say that you didn't love your brothers - they were your closest friends, especially after your mother had moved your family to dragonstone.

you missed your aunt helaena, however. at only two years your elder, she was more like a cousin or a sister to you, and as the only other girl you two had idled away long hours with tedious septas together.

for the first few months you wrote faithfully to eachother, but after the disaster at your aunt laena's funeral, an irrevocable schism has opened between factions of your family.

from that day, two more years would pass before you saw her again.

when helaena was thirteen, she came to dragonstone to claim a dragon. it was a cold and diplomatic trip which the king was too ill to attend and the queen had flatly refused to consider, and so the hand of the king escorted her along with a platoon of guards.

you were eleven years old, clasping hands with your twin on the windy shores of dragonstone as the princess' boat came ashore. all of you, even joffrey were ill at ease during this first meeting of factions in years. but, when the princess pulled back the hood of her cloak and stepped onto the beach, you found your heart hammering for an entirely different reason.

helaena had grown taller and more beautiful since you last saw her, though she seemed completely unaware of it as she anxiously took in her surroundings. she had all the beauty of the targaryen line in her, and the beginnings of what would make her a regal looking woman one day. and yet, she was softer in her features and appearance than the rest of your family in a way that was completely disarming.

though the feel of her visit was detatched and lacked the warmth of a family reunion, you found every excuse to seek her out over the duration of it. at first she was wary of you, no doubt because of your brothers and stepsisters and the role they had played in her brother's injury. after a few days though, she warmed and you slipped into a rapport like that before you had left for the island castle.

when it came time to venture up the dragonmont in search of a dragon, you begged and pleaded your mother to allow you to come with the princess - after all, your egg had never hatched and you lacked a dragon as well - and after exhausting the crown princess she relented.

on the dragonmont with a mixture of red keep guards and those loyal to rhaenyra, you and helaena camped on the mount for days, venturing to a different part of the mountain each day in search of dragons. at night, you shared a tent and kept eachother awake giggling and telling stories.

on the sixth day on the dragonmont, you met with the dragons dreamfyre and silverwing, who had belonged to two queens and sisters before you. after the pair of you successfully mounted the dragons and took to the skies, you returned to the beach of dragonstone with a renewed fire inside of each of you.

the night you returned to dragonstone's castle, a feast was held to jointly celebrate two dragons being claimed. you and helaena danced joyfully as the musicians played, and eventually you fell back to let your twin take your place. it was then you felt the first twist of jealousy in your stomach as jace made her laugh.

you snuck into the chamber helaena was staying in that night to recreate the little would you had when sharing a tent. that night, she had said to you before falling asleep, "you and i shall be bonded forever. dragon-bonded," she had said dreamily, then added, "soul-sworn."

before you could ask what she had meant by that, she was asleep.

#helaena targaryen #helaena targaryen x reader #helaena x reader #velaryon reader #strong reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon

[mint-yooxgi]

{26} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 7,671

Warnings: The later half still needs to be edited, sorry! Bit of angst to start. Mental Illness: Anxiety, Depression, PTSD. Suggestive content. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Surprise! A bit of an early update for you all since I do want to split this final part into two chapters. I’m sure you can all probably guess what’s going to happen next after reading this one, but I figured I'll end the first book off on a lighter note before starting the next book in the series! I really hope you still enjoy this part, I think it’s fun! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Part Twenty - Part Twenty-One - Part Twenty-Two - Twenty-Three - Twenty-Four - Twenty-Five - Mini Masterlist

There’s a voice. No, multiple voices calling out to you through the fog. You can hear them, just above the noise in your head. The more you focus, the more you realize that there are two distinct calls of your name. They sound almost frantic, pleading with you to wake up. 

Wake up! 

Just wake up!

A shuddering gasp escapes your lips as you sit upright in bed. Your chest heaves, feeling fresh tears lingering on the skin of your cheeks as you bring your hands up to rub at your eyes.

Softly, you can feel two hands caressing your back. One strokes over your upper spine while the other rests much lower, thumb stroking tenderly against your skin.

“Shhh, Darling, it’s okay,” Jongho’s soothing voice reaches your ears. Nothing but worry is reflected on his features as he shares a glance with the other male to your right.

“We’re right here, Dearest,” Yeosang whispers, noticing how with each breath you take you seem to be calming down, even if only the slightest. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

The sound of your bedroom door flinging open causes you to jolt lightly in their arms, all three of your gazes being drawn to the now open doorway to see both Mingi and Yunho hastily entering the room. Seonghwa follows close behind, San a mere step behind him as worry pulls at all of their features.

Before any of them can ask what happened, you’re speaking. “Bad dream.”

For the past four days, you’ve been tormented by night terrors. Visions of what happened to you swim through your mind, and usually, any one of them are able to shift your thoughts onto something more peaceful in order to let you rest. Only this time, they couldn’t.

No matter how hard Yeosang and Jongho tried, they couldn’t reach your mind. All they could do was watch as your dream tormented you with your past memories of Miyeon torturing you in that damn chair. Except, whenever the eight of them were supposed to show up in your dream, they never did.

Shifting slightly on the bed, Jongho pulls you into his lap. Gently, he cradles you in his arms as Yunho comes to sit on the edge. Carefully, the elder of the two places a hand onto the side of your face, nothing but concern tugging at his brow.

The arms you have wrapped around Jongho squeeze him tighter, eyes falling shut as fresh tears cling to your lashes.

“Every time-“ you begin, voice small and barely above a whisper as you swallow the dryness clinging to your throat. “Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is her.”

“Baby,” San immediately sits on the end of your bed with Mingi right beside him as Seonghwa moves closer to you.

“It’s like she’s living inside my head, and I don’t know how to get her out,” your whole body begins to tremble lightly as a tear slowly begins to make its way down the side of your cheek. “And I know I’m safe now. I know you’re all here with me, and will do everything in your power to protect me, but trying to reason with myself just isn’t working. The harder I try to rationalize with these thoughts, the worse it gets, and I just-“ you turn your head away from Yunho, burying your face into the side of Jongho’s neck as you hold him tighter. “I don’t know what to do.”

No longer can you hold back the desperate sobs that wrack your entire body. You feel completely and utterly devastated inside, every single event of the past week catching up to you. Your mind is a wreck, and you physically don’t feel any better, either. Yes, they’ve been there with you every step of the way, but even with their constant reassurance and support, you still feel lost.

How one woman could so easily come in and tear down every single wall you had built around yourself for protection only adds to the emptiness you now feel. Despite their protection, the worst part for you is that you now feel as if you cannot protect yourself, which is far worse than anything else.

You hate feeling powerless. You hate letting people have control over you.

Jongho’s arms are wrapped tightly around your figure, keeping you pressed against his chest as you continue to sob into his neck. Softly, he coos sweet, comforting words into your ears, both Yeosang and Yunho brushing over your back lightly with their hands.

The six of them share a look. A look full of worry, but also, silent understanding.

“Petal,” Yunho’s soft tone draws your attention to him once your sobs have quieted down for a brief moment. “Do you-“ he clears his throat as he meets your tear filled gaze, “do you want one of us to take the pain away?”

It’s slight, but your whole body tenses within Jongho’s hold.

Seonghwa sits on the edge of the bed, right beside Yunho. His gaze reflects nothing but concern as he looks at you softly.

“We can numb the memories so they’re not as difficult for you to remember,” he says gently. “If you’d rather forget them, we can do that, too.”

“We just don’t want you to suffer because of her anymore,” San adds, keeping his voice low as he watches you being held in his brother’s arms.

“I won’t lie, I have thought about it before.” You avert your gaze almost shamefully, voice barely above a whisper. “To have one of you sever the emotions I feel whenever I even so much as think about what happened to me.”

“But you haven’t.” Yeosang observes, hand continuing to stroke lightly over your back.

You turn your head to meet his gaze. “I can’t.”

You can see the question forming on his lips, and you’re sure the other five are all thinking the exact same things. So, before they can ask, you’re speaking once more.

“As much as I want to, I cannot ignore my own trauma,” you say. “If I ever-“ you let out a long exhale through your nose, “if I even want to begin to process it, I have to acknowledge it. Having one of you make me forget, or simply becoming numb to the emotions feels like I’m taking an easy way out. It’s not fair to myself, or you. I don’t expect you all to take away all of my bad memories as soon as they happen. I can’t, and I won’t.”

“Alright, Starlight,” Mingi nods subtly. “As long as that is what you want. We just thought we’d offer.”

Your eyes flutter closed as a sense of calm begins to wash over you seeing as you’ve managed to calm down for the moment. Slowly, you curl yourself closer into Jongho, letting out a small hum in acknowledgement. “I appreciate that, Min. I appreciate all of you.”

The hold Jongho has around your body tightens ever so slightly.

“What can we do, then, Darling?” He whispers lowly into your ear, chin resting lightly on your shoulder. “What can we do to help make it better?”

You’re quiet for a moment as you ponder over his question.

“I-“ you sigh, eyes falling to the pillows on the bed behind him. “I don’t know."

A brief pause.

“Let me think about it, okay?” Your soft voice fills the room once more just as both Wooyoung and Hongjoong appear. The two males had been out scouting for Dimitri and Malik for the evening, only to sadly find nothing of either of them. “I’ll probably have some better ideas in the morning, but for now, I just really want to sleep.”

“Alright, Darling,” slowly, Jongho begins to lay you back down beside him on the bed.

Immediately, Yeosang is wrapping himself around your back, pulling your body into his arms so that you’re pressed right up against his chest. Much to Jongho’s annoyance.

“I don’t-“ you close your eyes, curling into the two males on either side of you. “I don’t want to have another nightmare.”

“Would you like one of us to-“

“Yes,” you cut Hongjoong off before he can even finish his question, “please.”

The eight males all share a look, silently debating on who will be the one to give you pleasant dreams for the rest of the night, watching over your mind the whole time.

“Sannie,” your voice calling his name draws all of their attention.

“Yes, Baby?” Immediately, his eyes are locked on your figure, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice for anything and everything you might need.

“Don’t make me chase you out with a bat this time.” 

You feel Jongho chuckle slightly against you, his chest shaking as he recalls the way you made him summon you a bat to ‘bash San’s kneecaps in’ with the one time he tried to invade your dreams. Looks like his brother is getting a chance to finally redeem himself.

“I promise you won’t have to this time, Baby,” he chuckles lowly, already focussing on protecting your mind and filling it with the sweetest images for you to fall asleep to this evening.

“Good,” you hum, eyelids already drooping as a wave of tiredness washes over you. “I trust you.”

Almost as soon as those words leave your lips, you’re out like a light. Your chest rises and falls evenly, breaths coming steadily with each inhale you make.

For once, your mind is silent, filled with nothing but soft images of your favourite animals surrounding you and making you feel safe. Softly, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and for the first time in days, you finally manage to sleep through the night.

Morning comes, and you actually feel a little better than you have been lately, considering your mood over the past few days. Luckily, thanks to San, Jongho, and Yeosang, you slept much better last night, feeling more rested as you slowly wake up.

Going about your morning routine is second nature to you, not even focusing in on what exactly you’re doing. Still, you manage to take a quick shower to freshen up, getting ready for the day shortly afterwards. At least this allows you time to think.

Today is the first day in a week where you’ve decided to put your void back up, even if only for a little bit. It did keep Miyeon out for quite a while, and you could really use some privacy for your thoughts for the moment. Besides, it’ll allow you to properly think out ways that will help you without one of the guys chiming in every five minutes asking if you’re okay.

The way you can still feel one of them brushing tenderly against your void as you do this does cause a small smile to tug at your lips. At the very least, you know they care, and that they will always be here for you, in whatever ways that they can.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you notice both San and Jongho sitting on the one couch in your room. You can tell from the way that they smile at you as soon as you appear that they’ve been waiting for you this whole time.

“I brought some fruit for you, Baby,” San’s eyes never leave your figure the entire time you make your way over to them.

“Thank you, Sannie,” once you reach him, you lean in to place a tender kiss onto the side of his temple.

Reaching down, you grab the bowl of fruit from the table and sit across from them on the opposite couch. Immediately, you curl into the corner, tucking your legs into your side as you pull a pillow onto your lap.

You take a bite of fruit.

“How are you feeling this morning, Darling?” Jongho asks softly, nothing but worry shining within his eyes as he looks at you.

The corner of your lips tugs upwards slightly, a sort of sad nod to your head in acknowledgement. “Better.”

“Good,” he manages to meet your gaze as your eyes dart up to his own. “We’re glad.”

“Thank you, for last night,” you say, taking another bite of fruit before you’re shifting to look at San as well.

“Of course, Baby,” he smiles at you tenderly. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

“We want to help in whatever ways that we can.” Jongho adds, assuring you with a gentle nod of his head.

“I appreciate that more than you know,” you reply. “I just don’t want it to feel like I’m making my problems your own.”

“You know we would never think that.” Mingi’s voice coming from behind you manages to make you jump. “Sorry, Starlight.”

“I’m serious about those bells if you’re going to keep doing this to me,” you shoot him a playful look, noticing how he holds a fresh glass of water in his hand, of which he immediately passes to you.

You share a brief smile as he sits in the chair closest to you between the two couches.

“Baby,” San’s voice is drawing your attention back to him for the moment. “You know you could never burden us with your problems, right? Please don’t ever think that you are.”

You look down at your lap, pushing around the fruit in your bowl.

“We are here for you in whatever ways we can be,” Jongho reminds you. “And if it’s space you need, then we’ll do that, too.”

“Though, some of us may complain a bit more than others,” Wooyoung’s voice coming from the open doorway draws your attention.

“Yeah, and you’ll be the biggest one,” Yeosang follows right behind him, the both of them instantly making their way over to the sitting area where you are.

“I never said that I wouldn’t,” Wooyoung grins, quite literally hopping over the couch to sit beside you before Yeosang can have the chance.

The elder of the two shoots a glare at the younger, stopping only briefly to place a tender kiss onto the side of your temple before moving over to the opposite couch and sitting between San and Jongho.

“We just want you to know that you do not have to go through this alone, Dearest.” Yeosang makes sure to meet your gaze, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees so you can know just how sincere he is in his words. “You never have to go through anything alone ever again.”

“Even if you didn’t want to worry us with your problems, I don’t think we’d be able to stop ourselves,” Seonghwa appears, now sitting in the chair opposite Mingi’s at the other end of the table. “Your happiness and wellbeing are our number one priorities.”

“I’m sure you can recall Seonghwa saying that if you hurt one of us, you hurt all of us. Right, My Love?” Hongjoong’s voice coming from your left draws your attention to him next as you nod faintly. Carefully, he sits himself on the arm of the couch opposite you as he meets your gaze. “That also extends to you.”

“All you ever have to do is tell us what you need, Petal, and we will do everything in our power to provide it for you,” Yunho appears, sitting beside Wooyoung on the same couch as you.

Gently, Wooyoung reaches over and places a comforting hand onto your calf resting right beside him.

“Take as much time as you need, Angel,” he makes sure to keep his voice soft as he smiles tenderly at you. “We’ll be right here with you the whole time.”

All you can manage is a nod of your head as you feel your heart swell with fondness and love inside of your chest. Looking around at all of them, you can see the sincerity shining within their eyes. Though, that much is obvious, for you could hear it the whole time in their words. A fact which could not make you happier, or feel their support for you more than in this very moment here in time.

“We’ll get through this,” Wooyoung squeezes your calf gently. “Together.”

You smile softly, gently placing your own hand over his. “Together.”

Eight soft caresses to your mind answer you, allowing yourself to sink further into the comfort this moment brings you with them. The best part is, you believe them. You believe that you can and will get through this, one step at a time.

A brief silence settles around the nine of you as you finish off the rest of the fruit in your bowl. It’s not awkward by any means. In fact, it’s quite comfortable, and allows you time to think of how you want to word your next few ideas to all of them that you’ve been pondering over the last hour or so.

“I’m glad you’re all here with me,” a soft smile pulls on your features as you spare a glance around at all of them. 

The eight content rumbles you can hear lightly echo throughout the room only serve to warm your heart even further than it already is.

Reaching forward, you place the empty bowl onto the table, leaning back into your spot soon after.

“I’ve also done some thinking since last night, and I do have a few things to ask of all of you,” you begin, a nervous exhale escaping you as soon as the words leave your lips.

Again, Wooyoung’s hand squeezes your calf reassuringly.

“Anything, My Dear,” Yeosang breathes, leaning forward the slightest bit, just as all of his brothers do.

“I-“ the words die in your throat as you attempt to speak them out loud now. You take a deep breath in, clasping your hands together on top of the pillow still held in your lap. “As I’m sure you’ve all deduced by now, there is nothing I hate more than feeling powerless.”

You glance up from your hands to see them all watching you intently, slight nods to their heads as they wait for you to continue.

“If this is going to work out between all of us, and-“ your voice catches, and you exhale another breath through your nose, “and I am to become your Queen, then I do not want it to be a case where I am solely reliant on all of you to protect me. I want to be able to defend myself, and others, if such a situation calls for it.”

You can hear the way a few of their breaths hitch in their throats around you, but you still do not dare look up from your hands.

“I know it’s asking a lot, and I know I’m still only human, but I need to take at least some form of control back in my life.” You continue. “This is the best solution I could come up with for now. I do not want your own subjects disrespecting you by disrespecting me, or thinking that I am too weak to handle my own.”

“They would die if they so much as implied that you were,” San growls, hearing his brothers rumble out their agreement around him.

“This just adds to my point,” you briefly glance up to meet San’s gaze. “If you all act for me, then it will look like I cannot handle my own. I do not want your subjects to think I own you. We need to appear as a collective. As equals.”

“Always,” Yunho breathes.

“Without question.” Hongjoong confirms, a slight growl to his words.

“Exactly,” you slowly begin to meet their gazes, lifting your head as you begin to gain more confidence the more your speak. “Except, that might be a little difficult for some people to accept if I’m still only a weak little human who cannot defend herself.”

They all share a brief look with one another.

“We really wish you wouldn’t refer to yourself like that, Starlight,” Mingi is the one to voice all of their thoughts, causing you to turn your head to meet his gaze.

“It’s true, though,” you reply bluntly. “I’m not able to do much on my own right now, but if I knew how to defend myself, I might be able to fight back. I mean, it might not make much of a difference against your kind as I am now, but at least I could say that I tried.”

A pause.

“There are ways-“ Seonghwa clears his throat, drawing your attention to him for the moment. “There are ways for you to become like us. If you wanted.”

“You mean…?” You trail off, eyes wide.

“Yes.” Yunho confirms with a nod, clearing his throat in the next second. “We could turn you into an entity like us. A powerful one, too.”

You hesitate, looking around at all of them briefly. “How?”

“It would require you to give us a piece of your soul in exchange for a piece of ours.” Hongjoong explains, a slight tremor to his voice.

At the way you can see them all visibly shaking, realization crosses your features.

“You’ve discussed this before.” Not a question, but a statement of fact.

“Yes,” Mingi breathes, his eyes fluttering shut as he attempts to prevent them from flashing black.

“We will not lie to you, Darling,” Jongho’s voice rumbles out, slightly lower than it was mere minutes before. “It is one of our greatest desires.”

“There is no act more intimate than the merging of souls with the one you love.” Yeosang meets your gaze, and the darkness you can see swirling within his eyes has your breath hitching in your throat.

“It is the ultimate demonstration of vulnerability and trust between souls.” San’s reply is near breathless, his chest rising and falling dramatically as he looks towards you. “You would receive a piece of our life-energy, and in turn, we would receive a piece of yours.”

“But we would never force it upon you,” Wooyoung is quick to add. “Always, we want it to be your choice. Even if-“ he stops himself, diverting his gaze to the table in front of himself as his entire demeanour drops. “Even if you choose to never merge souls with any of us, and you want to remain a human until your very last breath, we would never force such a thing upon you.”

Again, you reach out and place your own hand on top of his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“I figured there was some sort of demonic magic thingy you’d all have to at least make me immortal at some point,” you say, and you notice how they all turn to look at you with hope shining within their eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be able to turn me into one of you.”

“Equals, remember?” Jongho grins, a tension releasing from his shoulders as you smile back.

“Believe it or not, I’ve come to terms with something like this happening a while ago,” you hum, relaxing further into the couch. “I am curious on how it would work, though. Would it have to happen all at once, or would the splitting and merging of my soul eight times simultaneously potentially kill me?”

“It could be done individually over a period of time, or all at once.” Hongjoong confirms. “It’s completely up to you and what you’re most comfortable with.”

“I’m not saying it’s going to happen any time soon,” you hold up a hand slightly in a pause motion. “I just want to understand what I’m committing to before the time comes.”

“We understand,” Yunho responds lowly. “It is a sacred ritual, and once it is done, it cannot be undone.”

You nod. “Now, when you say intimate, how intimate are we talking?”

All eight males share a look.

“What?” You quirk a brow.

“Well,” Mingi clears his throat, “it would connect us in ways we haven’t been before.”

“You’re not telling me it’s some kind of sex ritual, are you?” You deadpan.

At the way their eyebrows all raise slightly, sharing another look between all of them, you blink.

“So, you’re telling me,” you sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at the side of your face, “that in order for this ritual to take place, I either have to fuck all of you individually at separate times, or we all have, what? A giant orgy?”

Both Mingi’s and San’s faces begin to go bright red, the tips of Yeosang’s ears fairing no better. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Seonghwa shift in his spot, crossing his legs over one another. Even Jongho cannot hide the way a blush begins to creep up his neck, Hongjoong shifting subtly on the arm of the couch.

Yunho clears his throat.

“If that’s what you wanted, Gorgeous, we’d be more than happy to oblige,” Wooyoung leans in to whisper lowly in your ear.

A shiver caresses your spine as you feel his breath tickling your neck with every low exhale, the hint of a growl lingering in each one.

Slowly, you bring a hand up, using the tip of your index finger to push his cheek away.

“Slow down there, Demon Boy. We’re not there, yet.” Your voice comes out a bit shaky, and they can tell you’re just as affected by the thought as they are for the moment. “I was just asking for curiosity’s sake.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that it’s not a definitive ‘no’,” Wooyoung grins, a twinkle shining within his dark gaze.

You spare a glance at him out of the corner of your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Eight pleased growls reach your ears.

“It’s too soon to be talking about this,” you wave a hand in front of yourself. “Anyways, is that all there is to the ritual then? Just the exchanging of pieces of our souls? No bloodletting, or anything like that?”

A snarl nearly tears itself from Hongjoong’s throat, crossing his one leg over his knee as his whole body begins to heat with the implications of your words.

“Not unless you wanted there to be.” Seonghwa breathes, hands desperately clutching at the arms of his chair for dear life.

“Would you-“ Jongho clears his throat. “Would you be okay with something like that? Just in general?”

“What? Bloodletting?” You quirk a brow, noticing how he nods, a bit eagerly, in response. You smirk. “I might be.”

Eight low growls reach your ears, yet none are as loud as the snarls that tear from Hongjoong’s, Jongho’s, Mingi’s, and Seonghwa’s throats.

“This is not the proper time to be discussing these things,” you wave your hands in front of yourself once more. “We’re getting way too off track here.”

“We’re just asking for curiosity’s sake,” Mingi hums, a hint of a growl to his words as his brow quirks slightly in amusement.

“We can discuss these topics later. At a point where I’m not teetering on the edge of mental distress every half hour,” you say.

“Of course, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles reassuringly at you from across the table. “Please, continue with what you were saying before.”

“Thank you,” you smile back, shifting your legs so that your feet now rest on the floor, much to Wooyoung’s disappointment. “As I was saying, I want you all to train me.” You cross your one leg over the other, extending your arms over the back of the couch as you lean further into the cushion behind you. “Teach me how to fight, and to properly defend myself. I am tired of being the damsel. I am done feeling like I’m powerless. I am ready to become Your Queen.”

Each male can feel the way their breath hitches in their throat at your words. The way you’re sitting, body open and commanding their attention, screams regality in every way, perfectly mirroring your words even if you don’t realize it. A fact which makes their hearts flutter within their chests.

At the way the silence stretches on between you all, you start to worry.

“Even if you don’t all agree, if at least one of you-“

“We’ll do it.” San breathes, successfully cutting you off before you can start to ramble nervously.

“We had already thought about it, anyways,” Jongho admits, a bit eagerly.

“We’re just glad we’re all on the same page,” Mingi grins, eyes crinkling at the sides as you meet his gaze.

“We’d be more than happy to teach you everything that we know, Dearest,” Yeosang draws your attention to him next, a smile on his face.

“As long as this is something you want, we are more than happy too oblige,” Yunho adds, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

“Listen, if we’re going to be spending the rest of our lives together,” you begin, noticing how eight pleased growls sound lowly around the room at your words, “then I also want to be as badass and intimidating as My Kings. None of this ‘sit pretty and let us handle it’ shit.”

“You wouldn’t sit still, anyways,” Seonghwa jokes, a teasing grin tugging at his features.

“Exactly,” you grin back, meeting his gaze. “Besides, I never expect any of you to fight my battles for me.”

“We know, Darling,” Jongho smiles assuringly at you.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t try,” San adds, knowingly.

“Oh, believe me,” you chuckle. “I know.”

Leaning into your side, Wooyoung sighs dreamily, “I can’t wait to teach you all about poisons.”

“Just picturing her holding our weapons of choice is enough for me,” Seonghwa breathes, eyes fluttering shut as he leans further back into his chair.

“You’re telling me,” Hongjoong finally speaks, nothing but a pleasant hum to his lips.

Wrapping your one arm around Wooyoung’s shoulders, your eyebrows raise in amusement. “Need I remind you all that you’ll be training me, not getting a free pass for sexy times.”

“I think you underestimate the power you have, just implying that you want to learn how to wield any one of our weapons of choice, Dearest.” Yeosang’s low tone surprises you the most, considering that you wouldn’t have expected those words to come from him.

“Yeah, any more mental fantasizing, and our youngest here may start drooling,” Mingi teases, receiving a pillow thrown at his face from said man in the next second.

“Like you’re not envisioning the same damn thing.” Jongho grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

You giggle, and the sound is like music to all of their ears.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, yeah?” You grin. “There’s still a few things that need to happen first.” A brief pause. “Well, they don’t need to, I’d just like them to.”

“Anything.” Yunho breathes, gaze locking with yours from across the couch.

“This actually leads me to my next request, but I’d like to visit my parents. Preferably tomorrow.” You state, sparing a glance around at all of them. “I need to talk to my mom. She’s always been there for me when I’ve needed her, and it’s been months since I’ve been home. I want to take full advantage of seeing my family whenever I can, for however longer I can. They won’t be around forever.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to us, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles softly. “We understand.”

“Now that there’s one less threat to worry about, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Wooyoung curls in closer to your side, wrapping his arms around your waist as he hums contently.

“Our wards should still be in tact around your parents house, anyways.” Yunho adds.

“Did you want one of us to go with you?” Hongjoong clears his throat. “As an added protection in case something were to happen?”

You blink. “You’d actually let me go by myself?”

At the way they nod, even if somewhat hesitantly, you huff, clearly impressed.

“And here I was thinking I’d have to fight you guys on it.” You hum, amusedly.

“We never want you to feel like you cannot see your family,” Hongjoong responds. “We know how important they are to you.”

Your heart warms, and you find yourself nodding lightly along to his words.

“Well, I did want to speak with my mom privately at first,” you say. “Then, depending on how things go, I would really like to formerly introduce my parents to the people that I love.”

A collective stillness passes over the room as their eyes shine with nothing but fondness for you.

Wooyoung looks up at you, eyes shining with unshed tears. “You want us to meet your family?”

“Only if you’re all okay with that. I would never want to force you into anything you’re uncomfortable with,” you go on to say, smiling softly down at him. “I also don’t know how well they’re going to take to me being in a relationship with eight men, but I don’t want to keep this from them if I don’t have to. You all make me happy, and I know that’s all my parents have ever wanted for me. I would like for you to meet them.”

“Starlight,” Mingi’s voice trembles slightly with the weight of his emotions, a single tear trailing a path down his cheek.

“We’d be honoured.” Yunho finishes, voicing the thoughts on all of their minds as an overwhelming sense of joy and love swells within their chests.

You smile. A brilliant, shining smile that lights up the entire room as your eyes shine with excitement. “Great! I’ll call my mom later and make sure they’ll be home tomorrow. I want it to be a bit of a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Seonghwa quirks a brow.

“Ironically, Sundays are the days my family spends together. Usually, my sister and her husband come over for dinner, so my mom spends the day cooking. It’s usually a guarantee that they’ll be home, but one can never be too sure.” You shrug, subconsciously beginning to rub your thumb against Wooyoung’s shoulder, much to his content.

“Just let us know,” Seonghwa nods once in confirmation.

“Of course,” you turn your joy filled gaze towards him, and the eldest swears he can feel his heart stuttering inside his chest. “I have a plan, anyways.”

“A plan, you say?” Hongjoong quirks a brow.

“Like I said, it all depends on how things go if and when I talk with my mom tomorrow,” you reply. “I don’t think showing up with eight men right off the bat would be good for either of my parents. Let me test the waters first, and gage their reactions before all of you show up. The last thing I need is to give my parents a heart attack.”

“Alright, Starlight,” Mingi chuckles. “We’re just excited, is all.”

“Either way, we’ll make sure to be on our best behaviour,” Yunho shoots both San and Wooyoung a pointed look.

“Hey!” They both whine at the same time, causing you to chuckle.

“If anyone needs to behave themselves, it’s Handsy over there,” Wooyoung grumbles, burying himself further into your side as he shoots Seonghwa a pointed glare.

“Track record shows you’re in second place in terms of not being able to control your hands, Demon Boy,” you tease, poking his cheek lightly.

Teasingly, Wooyoung attempts to bite at your finger.

“So, really, you can’t blame us,” Seonghwa finishes with a casual shrug, only causing you to laugh once more.

“Oh, believe me, I don’t.” You grin knowingly. “If you knew half of the shit that I’ve fantasied about with all of you, I’m pretty sure my back would have been blown into next week by now.”

Eight snarls greet your ears, their eyes flashing black as their gazes fixate on you.

“Darling, you can’t just say something like that and not tell us more,” Jongho practically moans out as his lips part, heated gaze locked on your figure.

“Well, I guess that’s just something you’ll all have to find out in due time, then,” you giggle, a devious grin pulling onto your lips.

“No fair!” San pouts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So, you don’t want to know at a later time?” You quirk a brow teasingly at the male across from you.

“We’d just much rather know sooner rather than later, Angel,” Wooyoung’s voice rumbles out, nothing but a low growl as he turns his head to face you.

“And I’m sure you will,” you reply, brushing some of his hair back from his forehead. “I know for sure that I’m not the only one with my own little fantasies.”

At the pointed look you shoot Hongjoong across from you, the male straightens, even if only slightly.

“Anyways,” you chuckle once more, “we’re getting off track again.”

“Can you blame us?” Yunho clears his throat.

You smile at him from over top of Wooyoung’s head. “So, tomorrow, just be prepared to meet my parents.”

“We’ve never been more ready for anything in our entire lives.” Seonghwa admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“I think you’ll all get along with them just fine,” you say, watching as they straighten a bit from your subtle praise. “Though, I’d prefer it if you’d refrain from reading their thoughts.”

“We’ll do our best.” Yunho promises.

“I appreciate that,” you nod, a small upturn to your lips. “I can’t wait to see my dad attempt to intimidate you.”

Their eyebrows raise in amusement.

“Be prepared for these two questions,” you tell them, “one: ‘what are your intentions with our daughter?’. And two: something to do with your occupation.”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure ‘making her the Queen of Our Realm’ would be a sufficient enough of an answer to question one.” Hongjoong jokes, and you find yourself grinning along with him.

“My mom might swoon, but yeah, my dad might not be as impressed,” you laugh. “I’m sure you’ll all think of something. However, if you need conversation topics, my mother is an interior designer, and she loves to cook and bake. My dad, on the other hand, loves music, and is an author.”

“Is that where your love of books comes from?” Yeosang inquires.

“Most likely,” you shrug. “My mom was also the one who taught me to play the piano, so there’s that.”

A slight mewl from your feet draws your attention in the next moment, Kuroo jumping up onto the arm of the couch beside you. Immediately, you bring a hand up to begin scratching at his chest.

“You’ll also get to meet another fluff ball,” you say, noticing how Kuroo looks at you with those big, golden eyes of his. “Don’t worry, Little One, Sammy could never replace you. Though, he is a bigger Monkey than you are.”

A few chuckles sound around the room as Kuroo stands a little straighter on the arm of the couch.

“Unfortunately, you cannot come with us,” you lightly scratch Kuroo’s head, watching as he blinks at you in response. “Listen, if Weserton shows up, you will not be having a good time.”

“Weserton?” Yeosang quirks a brow at you from across the table.

“My sister’s dog.” You clarify, seeing nods of understanding all around.

“Is his name actually Weserton?” San’s brow furrows.

“Oh, no, that’s just what I call him.” You chuckle. “His name is just Wes, but I thought I’d make it fancy and combine it with Bridgerton.”

“What kind of dog is he?” Jongho asks.

“He’s a German Shepard.” You grin. “A fact which my sister will tell you all about.”

The way a fond look begins to shine in your eyes has all of them practically swooning once more. Nothing but tender love and affection fills their gazes as they watch you recount little details about your family, sharing them with all eight of them now.

“Anyways, I probably shouldn’t tell you everything about them before you meet,” you shift slightly, making yourself more comfortable on the couch as Kuroo crawls on top of the pillow still sitting in your lap. “Leaves more to be discovered tomorrow.”

“We appreciate you telling us all that you have, still,” Yunho speaks, voicing his brother’s thoughts for the moment. They can tell that even though you’re excited, you are a little nervous about the fact that they’ll be meeting your family for the first time.

“Again, we promise to be on our best behaviour,” Seonghwa reiterates, sharing a look with all of his brothers around the room.

You nod, that soft smile pulling at your lips once again. “I trust you.”

A comfortable silence settles over the nine of you.

“That’s pretty much all I had for the moment,” you say. “Unless you all had something for me.”

They all share a look, and you do not fail to see the way Jongho, Mingi, Hongjoong, and Seonghwa all shift slightly in their spots. Even Wooyoung turns slightly in your arms, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes.

“I can think of a few things,” Mingi chuckles.

You simply quirk a brow in response.

“Now then,” Jongho breathes, drawing your attention to him for the moment, “on to other important matters.”

“Yeah, like how you gave San one of your sweaters to wear first.” Wooyoung pouts, crossing his arms over his chest as he sits up and out of your embrace.

You shrug, “he said he was cold.”

“Starlight, you know both San and I can regulate our body temperatures at will, right?” Mingi leans towards you, keeping his voice low as a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“No,” you quick a brow amusedly, turning your gaze towards San who is now glaring at Mingi. “I did not.”

“I’m surprised he even took it off,” Yunho chuckles. “He’s been wearing it every day since.”

“More like living in it.” Seonghwa grumbles, crossing his own arms over his chest.

“The only reason he took it off is because he spilt-“

Hongjoong’s words immediately get cut off as San slaps a hand over his Captain’s mouth. A nervous smile rests on his face as your eyebrows raise in amusement.

A look of disgust pulls onto San’s features, a whine escaping his lips as he tears his hand away from Hongjoong’s mouth. Immediately, the younger male starts wiping the palm of his hand on Hongjoong’s thigh, muttering curses about how the elder male licked him all the while.

You laugh, one of your own hands buried within Kuroo’s fur as you notice San pouting in your direction now.

“You know, if you guys want to wear my clothes, you’re more than welcome to-“

The words are hardly even out of your mouth when Wooyoung is flinging himself over the back of the couch and rushing towards your closet, Jongho and Seonghwa not far behind.

“You two,” you point towards San and Mingi, “are not allowed to touch my favourite sweater. Not after the last time.”

“It was an accident!” Mingi attempts to defend himself, lips tugging downwards in the corners.

“I don’t care,” you shake your head back teasingly, eyes wide. “I don’t want to be doing emergency surgery on the sleeves of my favourite hoodie every time you two decide to play tug of war with the material.”

“What are you two? Feral dogs?” Jongho reappears with one of your oversized crewnecks covering his frame, an amused look shining in his eyes as he sits back in his seat.

“Says the one who practically growled at me when I went to reach for the sweater you’re wearing,” Seonghwa muses, one of your many hoodies fitting comfortably over his body as he settles back into his chair.

“I’m surprised nothing else got torn apart,” Yeosang comments, burying the lower half of his face into the neck of the fuzzy jumper he’s now wearing.

“I don’t know, Joong and Wooyoung were fighting pretty intensely over that one shirt,” Yunho hums, reappearing on the one end of the couch wearing another one of your hoodies.

“I swear to everything-“

“Don’t worry, My Love,” Hongjoong reappearing on the arm of the couch in front of you wearing one of your cardigans manages to cut you off. “We figured it out.”

“More like I won,” Wooyoung’s smug voice greets your ears as you turn to see him walking over wearing one of your oversized t-shirts. A large grin rests on his face as he plops himself back down on the couch beside you, immediately leaning into your side once more. “Your clothes are comfy.”

“At least we can all agree on that,” Jongho hums, a collective sigh of bliss escaping all of them at once.

“I didn’t realize how many hoodies you own,” Mingi comments, burying himself deeper into the one he currently wears after sitting back down in his chair.

“It’s cause I only wear the same five in rotation,” you snort. “They are my favourite article of clothing. I think I must have at least twenty in counting.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that we can borrow them at any time?” San grins, appearing on the couch opposite you wearing another one of your cardigans. Only his is done up, with nothing underneath.

“As long as you tell me you’re the one that has it, borrow whatever you want.” You shrug, nonchalantly. Though, at the way you see Wooyoung’s eyes flash, you’re quick to add, “not my underwear.”

“Damn, and here I was thinking we’d get a free pass,” he grumbles, shaking his head teasingly.

“Don’t push your luck, Demon Boy,” you poke his cheek affectionately, feeling him smile against your side as he pulls himself closer into you.

Softly, you begin to thread your fingers through Kuroo’s fur, smiling as you hear him begin to purr in your lap. The affectionate stares you can feel being sent your way has you relaxing into this moment, right here, right now, with all of them. Already, your mind has started to calm down, and you cannot help but revel in this feeling.

Yeah. You could get used to this.

#yandere ateez #yandere au #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #yandere kpop #kpop scenario #yandere hongjoong #yandere san #yandere seonghwa #yandere yeosang #yandere yunho #yandere jongho #yandere wooyoung #yandere mingi #mingi scenario #jongho scenario #yunho scenario #yeosang scenarios #wooyoung scenario #hongjoong scenario #san scenario #seonghwa scenario #kpop au #demon au #kpop imagines

[whumpbby]

You know what?

Lan Zhan is mostly so frustrating as a character to me, because making him interesting and giving him a character arc would be so easy and it wouldn't even require changing his character or the overarching story!

Solution:

Have the Lan kick him out after he took the lashes for Wei Wuxian. No seclusion, straight up blacklisting from the properties.

That will reinforce:

A. That actions thaken in good faith result in unfairly harsh consequences.

B. That Lan are a strict sect that will stick to their rules to their own detriment.

C. That Lan Wangji took on an actual risk by trying to save WWX and it cost him more than he was ready to pay. Everyone lost in WWX's gamble.

Have him be a rogue cultivator that has spent thirteen years trying to earn the right of returning to his sect and family - and that's the reason he's where the chaos is, the reason he's known outside of Gusu and sticking to their creed to the letter. It would give him a valid personal reason to resent Jiang Cheng, because in his eyes JC didn't lose as much as him for doing much less.

It would give him internal conflict separate from WWX - does he want to go back to the sect that abandoned him? Does he want to go back to the sect he doesn't believe in anymore? Can he even allow himself to stop believing in the Rules and their utility - because if he stops, what's left for him? He'll be alone in the world that doesn't understand him and won't allow him to grieve the man he loved. Hell, have him question his decision to help WWX and come to no definite answer.

Give him a crisis of faith when he's one step away from returning to the sect and his brother, and his uncle, and that's when Wei Wuxian comes back into his life.

And the choice placed in front of him suddenly has weight. Does he go back to the sect, something he has been working towards for years? Does he abandon the only light in the darkness of his post-war life, that kept him going through the worst times for a man that died over a decade ago? Can he abandon the chance to get back to his beloved brother who breaks law by speaking to him a few times a year?

Or does he choose Wei Wuxian? Choose him in the way he didn't before, this time with his eyes open and aware of the consequences? Does he break away from the sect that killed his mother and broke his father with their unbent, heartless adherence to the Rules? Can he go back to that life after knowing freedom?

And WWX will do okay without him, it's quite obvious he can just live his dream of being a rogue cultivator with ease.

But Lan Zhan won't do well without Wei Wuxian - because WWX was the symbol of freedom for him from the first meeting. Freedom to feel and to act, and to follow his heart.

And he chooses WWX, knowing that he won't be able to go back home - accepting that the home he remembers only ever fit him when he made himself smaller for it. You can never go back home etc.

And that closes the thread of generational trauma for these two - the thread of crappy 'parents/elders' straddling their kids with their own issues.

Coincidentally, that would merge beautifully with WWX's plight - both of them leaving previous lives symbolised by their brothers, that are appropriately opposite in character to suite their specific emotional baggage;)

#mdzs #meta #lan wangji #I'm not in any way trying to step on the author's toes #this is a writing exercise for me #wangxian #give lan zhan that catholic guiltxD #of a pastor's son that carnally desires the mayor's cute son #xD

[is-this-a-valid-iterator-name]

Are these valid iterator names? The last one probably isn't but I'll slap it in anyways XD

Endless Beyond

Thirteen Elder Stories

Eight Crashing Tides

Last String of Life

Twelve Far Away Dreams

Ruby Skies by Sapphire Shores

Extracted Prism Sunsets

Threats of Ongoing Loops

Forecasts of Forgotten Truths

Outsourced Onslaught Precision

Sunrise Solar Starlight Lunar

last can probably be turned into an ancient name

these go hard. puts them in my mouth as per the validating ritual

#iterator #rain world iterator #rw iterator

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (3/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 2885

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Though Arianwyn wants nothing more than to devour the book Aemond gifted her, she finds herself tear her mind from Aegon’s taunting words. But as she recalls a difficult conversation with her cousin and lady’s maid from the night before, she decides that perhaps she does not want to be married – ever.

Warnings: Mentions of rape

Series Masterlist

The Book

Arianwyn sat at one of the great oaken tables in the library of the Red Keep, elbows on either side of the great tome before her as she pressed her balled fists into her still-flushed cheeks. She had been waiting for the answers contained in this book for more than half her life, but now that they lay before her, all she could think about was her cousin’s words.

“As soon as your father acknowledges you’re alive…”

What did it matter that Daemon acknowledge her? Had she not been taken in by the King and Queen themselves? Lived in their castle, raised alongside their own children? Was she not the Lady of Runestone, head of a noble house in her own right? Why should her fate be determined by a man she had never met?

Daemon Targaryen was across the Narrow Sea, living happily with his young wife and two daughters. According to the latest ravens, a third child would be joining them soon. Did Lady Laena even know about her stepdaughter – Baela and Rhaena of their sister? Did they care? Did they yearn to know her as she did for them?

Likely not, she told herself. Daemon had remarried before Arianwyn had seen her first full moon. He had not written to inquire about her health, nor that of her mother. He had said nothing before fleeing across the sea. Thirteen years had passed, and he had never once written to his firstborn daughter. He did not want her as part of his family.

“Aria?” Aemond’s soft voice broke her from her racing thoughts. He had been wholly silent as they raced through the stone corridors of the Red Keep, passing by her chambers to retrieve the book before coming to the library.

Now, he sat across from her at their usual table, a stack of parchment in front of him. They had been here many times before – at this same table, delighting in each other’s companionship and curiosity. True, their hours here had grown quieter in recent years. They were no longer the rambunctious children they once were. Aemond would readily admit much of the fault in that lay with him.

He was not as happy as he once was.

But he was still happy here, in their place. It was perhaps the only place he could still depend on to find comfort and respite. Here, he was never alone. Even if Arianwyn was elsewhere, he could still find her in the books. The winding rows of shelves held happy memories of their childhood, when they first delved into the paper forest in search of knowledge.

Here, they had uncovered the great tales of their ancestors and felt the great legacy that sat upon their shoulders. Only now, Aemond realized the true, overwhelming weight of that legacy.

He had been ten when he first realized his fate – that of the second son.

In all the stories they read, both of Old Valyria and the First Men, the second son never got a happy ending. Most died young, having been sent to battle in the place of their more valuable elder brother. Some survived, living to see their sibling take the throne. Of these survivors, many became valuable advisors and received the great honor of being mentioned, however briefly, alongside their King’s noble deeds. Others earned more notoriety by attempting to build their own legacy. Whether they tried to usurp the throne or establish their own lands, those men died bloody. From what he could glean from the stories, the best he could hope for was to fade into the annals of history.

Aemond had never told Arianwyn of this revelation. He knew she would not understand.

She still saw the glory and romance of these stories. And why shouldn’t she? As the only daughter and heir of an ancient Westerosi house, and a dragonriding descendant of Old Valyria, there was no doubt that her story would be a legend told for ages to come.

Until fate decided otherwise, Aemond would cherish being a small part of that legend.

Arianwyn dropped her hands from her face, draping them over the book he had given her only that morning. “What?”

Her steely eyes were more distant than Aemond had ever seen them. No girl should look that way on her nameday. “Are we going to read the book?” He asked, tapping his quill on his parchment for emphasis.

She looked down at the faded title pressed into the linen. Then, to Aemond’s delight, a smile finally came across her lips.

“You never told me how you found this,” she said, carefully prying open the ancient tome.

Aemond grinned eagerly. This was a story he had waited a long time to tell.

“I wrote to my Uncle at Oldtown,” he began. “Not Hobert – Devran, the Maester. He is an archivist in the library at the Citadel. Maesters there have been studying the Runes since the Andals first came to Westeros. I told him how important being able to understand them was to you, as the future Lady of Runestone.”

Arianwyn looked away from his bright purple eyes, focusing instead on the inscription on the book’s first page. She did not want him to see her blush.

He continued, “Devran spoke to the other archivists and the Conclave to find out if they had any information there that we did not and if he could get permission to send it here. But they had nothing to send.

“When King Jaehaerys made peace with the Faith, he ordered copies made of everything in the Citadel. Knowledge is powerful, and he did not want the Maesters to be the only ones able to wield it.“But the libraries of the Citadel were not exhaustive. A few libraries of the older houses, especially in the North, had books the Maesters considered unholy. An initiate from north of Winterfell told Devran about the library at the Wall. It is small and ill-cared for, but it has been untouched for hundreds of years. So he wrote to the Maester there – I forget his name – and found out about this.”

He reached across the table and touched the page, indicating the full title. Deciphering the Runes of the First Men: A Theory of Translation. The author’s name had long since faded. “I don’t know how accurate it is. Devran made sure I knew it was only a theory, but it is still more than you ever had before. I had my mother write to the Maester at the Wall to get it sent here. It took two months; I was almost worried it wouldn’t arrive in time.”

Hearing his tale, Arianwyn’s smile had returned in full force. That was why he had spent so long trying to find this perfect gift. There was no sight quite like that smile. It illuminated her whole face, sending a delicate sparkle into her silver eyes.

He loved looking at that smile.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Aemond,” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from the book. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he replied, “just read.”

Happily, she did.

-

Hours later, both children lay underneath their table, their stiff chairs long abandoned. Instead, Aemond lay on his belly, chin resting on his crossed arms as he tried yet again to decipher the page in front of him through increasingly blurred eyes. Arianwyn lay perpendicular to him, using the flat of his back as a pillow while she sorted through the dozens of pages parchment Aemond had filled while she read aloud.

Again, they were silent. But it was not the angry silence from earlier that day nor the melancholy silence that often followed Aemond. No, this was a happy silence. Comfortable and inviting, as the silence fills the air of a fire-warmed family hall on a snowy day.

Unable to read a single word more, Aemond let his head topple onto the book in front of him.

“Aria?”

“Yes?” The shuffle of paper told him she was still committed to their task.

“Why did Aegon make you so angry? Earlier, at the party. What he said was no worse than usual.”

The sound of paper stopped, and the pressure lifted from Aemond’s back as Arianwyn sat up. She did not face him but crossed her legs and folded her arms around her.

“Because I am afraid to be married.”

“What?” Aemond shot up so swiftly that he hit his head against the bottom of the table with a loud ‘thunk.’ “But you haveto get married someday. It’s your duty. Why should you be afraid?”

Arianwyn scoffed, “And it will be your duty to go to war one day! Are you not afraid of that?”

“Of course I am,” Aemond insisted, “but that’s war, not marriage!”

“Marriage can be just as dangerous!” she whispered, too soft for him to hear. For the second time that day, her mind drifted back to the night before.

-

After dinner, Ser Gerold Royce had insisted Arianwyn retire to her rooms early. He claimed she needed rest to be ready for the party the next day. But when the door closed behind them, he dismissed all her servants but one. Brynna Taler, who had formerly been a lady’s maid to her mother, Rhea, was allowed to remain.

Arianwyn knew immediately that something was wrong. Gerold cared for her deeply, there could be no doubt of that, but he had always been nervous around her. She had simply assumed that, as he had no siblings or children of his own, he did not know what to say to her. Indeed, as he sat in front of her now, elbows on his knees, he seemed visibly to be struggling to find words.

Brynna, at last, stepped forward. “Tomorrow shall be an important day, Lady Arianwyn. Your cousin wishes to speak with you before the party to prepare you.”

Arianwyn looked between her cousin and her maid. “What is there to prepare for? It is a party.”

“It is not just any party,” Gerold said, speaking at last. “It is the party celebrating your thirteenth nameday. The Queen and I have discussed it, and we agree that tomorrow is the right time for you to start... meeting the young men of the realm.”

“But I have already met them,” Arianwyn said, puzzled by her cousin’s words and grim tone. “Most of them, at least. They have been to court before.”

Gerold laughed once, an uncomfortable sound. “Yes, I know. But it is time you start to… get to know them better. To consider them not just as visitors to court, but as potential companions.”

“I don’t understand,” Arianwyn said, beginning to mirror her cousin’s nerves. “I already have friends.” She looked toward Brynna, “And companions.”

The maid smiled. “Oh, my dear child. Allow me to explain.” She walked toward her ward, kneeling on the floor in front of her. “Ser Gerold and I have both feared this day, but we have put it off for too long.”

She cupped the girl’s face in her hands, savoring her innocence. “Tomorrow, the Queen shall introduce you – or reintroduce you – to many of the noble boys your age. For when the sun rises, you shall no longer be a girl but a woman coming into her own.”

Arianwyn shied away from Brynna. “I am not a woman until I am twenty-one, when I take charge of Runestone.”

“That is when you shall come into your title,” Gerold said. “But you will be a woman before then. And though I am loathe to admit it, a woman needs a husband. You need a husband.”

At last understanding, Arianwyn nodded. “So, I must meet him tomorrow.”

“No!” Both adults shouted at once.

Gerold cleared his throat, “tomorrow is only the beginning. We let the nobility know of your eligibility and allow you to meet their sons. No decisions need to be made tomorrow, nor the next day, or even in the next year. But we do need to begin somewhere, so it shall be tomorrow.”

Arianwyn nodded. She had expected a husband to come more naturally. He would save her from tripping on a dance floor or bring her wine at a ball. She had even imagined, on occasion, of saving a dashing young knight with Emrys, and together they would fly off to Runestone. She had never expected to meet him by appointment.

But she was the Lady of Runestone. To marry and bear children was her duty. No, this would not be like the stories she had read for so long.

“I understand. I will do my best to present myself well tomorrow.” She stood from the couch and began to make her way to her private chambers.

“Wait.”

Arianwyn turned back, unsure what else there was to say. But a grim look from both her companions chilled her blood. Tentatively, she stepped back to the couch and sat down. Such a gloom fell over the room that she dared not speak.

“It is time you learned how your mother died.”

Tears sprung to Arianwyn’s eyes at the memory of the gruesome tale. She had always known Daemon did not care for her, but she had never imagined the depths of his cruelty. She was so consumed by her thoughts of grief that she did not notice when Aemond crawled along the carpeted floor to sit beside her.

Noticing her wet eyes, he put an arm around her. “Why are you afraid to marry, Aria?”

She could not tell him. Gerold had told her so. They could not predict what Daemon would do if the tale got out. Besides, there was no law against a man raping his wife, and the King had never truly punished his brother before.

“I am afraid,” Arianwyn started, “because I do not want to leave. King’s Landing is my home, and all my friends are here. I don’t want to go back to Runestone with only a stranger for company.”

She supposed it was not a lie. The Red Keep had been her home since she was two months old. Except for Gerold, all her family and those she cared about were here: the King, Queen Alicent, Helaena, and Aemond.

“Then I shall come with you,” Aemond declared, sitting as tall as he could under the table. “I shall travel to Runestone with you and your husband, and make sure he is kind and treats you with honor.”

Arianwyn smiled. He had no idea how reassuring those words were, even if what he proposed was impossible. “And what will you do if he does not? If he is cruel to me?”

A fire blazed in his violet eyes, the fire of so many Targaryen kings and conquerors that came before him. “If he does anything to harm you or even make you sad, I shall cut off his head and feed it to Emrys!” he declared, entirely serious.

A brief moment of devoted silence passed between them. But in a heartbeat, both children collapsed into laughter, their studies and troubles forgotten.

Queen Alicent Hightower observed them from between two distant shelves. She had witnessed the confrontation earlier at the party but had been too deep in conversation with some Lord from the Reach to intervene. Not that her interventions had any impact on how her children behaved. Not anymore.

“Were there any tempting offers?” her father’s voice rumbled behind her. He had been sneaking up on her like this for years – she did not flinch anymore. He had only been back at court a few days – ostensibly for Arianwyn’s nameday – and already he was grating on her nerves.

Alicent sighed, hand instinctually flying to grasp the amulet around her neck. “A few. None I plan to pursue.”

“Hmm,” her father placed his hand around her shoulders to lead her away from the sharp ears of the children. “I think I best to seal her betrothal while her father remains in Pentos. We don’t want to lose that advantage.”

The Queen brushed off her father’s arm. Rage took root in her heart at the mention of Daemon, the horrific tale Gerold had relayed to her just hours ago still ringing in her ears. “Arianwyn is not a political advantage to be leveraged.” Her voice was as fierce as she would allow in the quiet of the library. “She is my niece, dear to me, and a great friend to my children – two of them at least.”

Otto blinked, raising his chin to look down his nose at her. She hated that look. He only fixed her with it when he considered her behavior foolish and immature.

She steeled herself to continue, “She is a young girl who has lost her mother and been abandoned by her father. I have no doubt that if he ever returns, Daemon will see her as a pawn for his own aims. Until she comes of age, there is little I can do to protect her from him – or any other man who seeks to manipulate her. So, I will do what I can for her while I still can.”

Not waiting for a response, the Queen swept out of the library.

Next Chapter

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon

[thechaoticdruid]

~My Tav for roleplay and story purposes~

Name: Winnie (Winnifred)

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Class: Druid (Her favorite form being the direwolf. I also like to imagine she has some doggy-like characteristics because of it lol), she's also multi-classing as a wizard for reasons.

Age: 23

Race: Human

Hair: Reddish brown

Eyes: Pink

Height: 5'3

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (With a bit of a good lean I suppose)

Love interest: Astarion

Backstory: Winnifred was raised deep in a hidden forest village, amongst her fellow druids. Her grandmother was the archdruid of their circle and took to raising her after Winnie's parents went missing (aka the likely died horribly on an adventure.) Winnie lived a peaceful, but boring life in the village for thirteen years until eventually it was raided by goblins and everyone she'd known and loved was slaughtered before her very eyes. Winnie was captured by the horde's leader, a strange drow wizard who only allowed her to live because he thought she'd be the perfect test subject for his 'experiments'. She never learned his name, but since the event his face has haunted her nightmares. Winnie remained his lab rat for weeks following the raid. Eventually however her suffering came to an end when a band of adventurers came to her rescue. Apparently they were old friends of the family though she had never once met any of them. They freed her from the prison she'd been held in before setting fire to the goblins camp, killing every last one of the circle's murderers....Well all except for the drow...

Sometime after that Winnie was taken in by Arva, a half elf who just so happened to be the leader of her rescuers. She brought Winnie back to her group's hideout in Baldur's Gate's under city and for ten years Winnie learned how to survive on the streets, using some not so heroic skills Arva had taught her....

•Just stuff about Winnie•

Winnie is weird.

She rarely takes anything seriously and will usually use humor as a way to keep herself sane as she puts it.

She's definitely not a saint but there are some big no nos for her when it comes to morals. No harming innocents, children, or animals.

Self righteous rich tits can suck it tho

"Think you can just spit on me? Huh!? I'll bite your fucking ankles!"

Winnie is an insomniac with permanent raccoon eyes. Shh...don't say anything she gets self conscious!

She has really low self esteem when it comes to her appearance.

Growing up all the other children in her village used to call her ugly a lot. Pretty much all of them aside from a gnome child named Demi.

Winnie liked Demi. Demi used to call her tall.

Winnie isn't particularly romantically experienced. Mostly due to her low self esteem and urge to faint or run away screaming when around someone she finds attractive.

Astarion is her first everything really.

Moving on from that Winnie has a bit of an obsession with cheese. It's like her favorite thing ever.

If you have any she will steal it.

Her handwriting is awful.

She has a habit of pretending to be dumber than she actually is to throw people off.

She identifies herself as being interested in men exclusively, but if I'm honest she does have a bicurious streak.

Mostly because Karlach once asked her what she would do if Astarion was a girl.

Karlach is like her best friend, but don't tell Star he'll get jealous. Shhh...

Has a little plant in a small pot that she affectionately calls Vern.

Currently writing erotic Bloodweave fanfiction titled 'Blood Mage' as a side job to afford Astarion's costly wardrobe. Shhh.... don't tell Gale.

Likes to draw exaggerated doodles in her journal a lot. Usually illustrating important events in her life.

She often dwells on something she remembered one of the older druids saying before the raid. The elder druid described Winnie as "a weed amongst the flowers."

Winnie used to flip the old lady off behind her back all the time.

Will probably be updated and expanded on. Feel free to ask questions. I might make a separate one of these for my Durge .

IMPORTANT: While I am open to doing a little roleplay here and there I'm only doing it with users above the age of 18. Anyone without their age on their blog will be blocked or ignored. Also I'm not comfortable roleplaying the canon characters at this time so don't ask please.

#bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #bg3 rp #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 roleplay #my tav #baldur's gate 3 roleplay

[groupalpha]

Was it just me or was Stories blushing earlier??

13ES: I can assure you I was not.

#guys the old man has a crush on another senior #rain world #rain world oc #rain world askblog #rw oc #rain world iterator #rain world iterator oc #iterator oc #rw iterator #iterator #thirteen elder stories #rw iterator oc

[dustballdrawsartwork]

BEHOLD! Icons I use to make maps! Please don't let these look like trash. forbidden t site.

#dusts edits #i need to finish the map I'm working on. Then fix pump station and sundown canopy since I ain't got nothin else to do rn #rain world #rain world oc #rw group alpha #rain world ocs #rw slugcat #the amalgamation #iterator oc #slugcat oc #rw iterator #the collector #the savior #the crossroader #endless beyond #thirteen elder stories #twelve far away dreams #extracted prism sunsets #ruby skies by sapphire shores #last string of life #eight crashing tides #sunrise solar starlight lunar #Gosh I have too many ocs :/

[web-novel-polls]

MXTX Side Characters Upper Bracket

Jin Ling from MDZS

Submission 1: He may be a brat, but he has a good heart and a friendly dog. He thinks he's the main character of a much less intense story which keeps almost getting him killed 

Submission 2: Bestest boy in the whole world. He's got a dog! A helicopter uncle! His dad's sword! Yeah he can be a little brat but he's SIXTEEN okay (or thirteen, or whatever, MXTX HELP) and he's got an incredible capacity for forgiveness. He's so good! 

Jiang Yanli from MDZS

“Madam Jin. A-Xian is my younger brother. A humiliation to him is not something trivial to me.” - Drama

Elder Sister Syndrome in its highest form who is just trying to protect her loved ones despite having little talent in cultivation. 

Wiki Link

Yin Yu from TGCF

Submission: The guy of all time. The most average god ever. Someone give him a break. His face is so average that Xie Lian thought it was fake 

["Anti-Propaganda" that attacks other characters is NOT allowed. Please only give reasons to vote FOR a character.]

#jin ling #jiang yanli #mdzs #yin yu #tgcf #mxtx #polls #mxtx side characters upper round 3 #mxtx side characters upper bracket #queue

[wangxianficrecs]

flower of justice by neoncoin

flower of justice

by neoncoin

T, WIP, 18k, Wangxian

Summary: Convinced his brother won't survive the punishment for disobeying the elders after Nightless City, Lan Xichen intervenes, and pleads insanity on Lan Wangji's behalf. A few years later, little A-Yuan makes friends with a strange man who lives in the Gentian House. (And a few years after that, Sizhui helps plot an escape attempt.) Kay's comments: Are you prepared to have your heart absolutely destroyed? Then you should definitely check out this fic, because ouch, ouch, ouch, my heart. Just thinking about this concept hurts in the best way possible. In this story, Lan Xichen was convinced that his brother wouldn't survive his punishment and so, he had him imprisoned in the Gentian House instead. One day, little A-Yuan finds his way to the house and befriends the strange man who lives there, who looks a lot like their sect leader... Excerpt: The door slides open. A-Yuan is so surprised he almost falls over, and then he looks at the person who opened the door, and really does fall over this time. "Sect Leader Lan," says the man, his voice cold. Then he blinks, and looks down. The man and A-Yuan stare at each other in mutual astonishment. The man is presumably surprised to see A-Yuan instead of the person he was obviously expecting, Zewu-jun, and A-Yuan is surprised because for a bewildering moment, he was convinced the man who opened the door was Zewu-jun. [...] "Are you a ghost?" A-Yuan asks without meaning to, and then immediately flushes with mortification. The man who is not Zewu-jun does not splutter in outrage or laugh at him, but A-Yuan sees a flash of something dart across his face, quick as a koi. "I am not," says the man, voice much less icy. He tilts his head. "You are lost." It's not a question, but A-Yuan nods miserably anyway. "I was chasing a rabbit," he explains. The man raises a single eyebrow. "It was black and fluffy and it let me pet it and I wanted to pet it again." "Understandable," says the man solemnly. A-Yuan can't tell if he's making fun of him or not. "It is growing dark and cold. Would you like to come in?" "Yes!" exclaims A-Yuan, slumping with relief, and scrambles to his feet so he can bow. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

pov lan sizhui, pov lan wangji, canon divergence, angst and hurt/comfort, thirteen years of wei wuxian's death, gusu lan sect punishment methods, location: gentian house, lan family feels, madam lan, hurt/comfort, twin jades of lan dynamics

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

#WIP Rec Week #WIP #Work in Progress #Wangxian Fic Rec #The Untamed #Wangxian #MDZS #Kay's Rec #November 2023 #pov lan sizhui #pov lan wangji #canon divergence #angst and hurt/comfort #thirteen years of wei wuxian's death #gusu lan sect punishment methods #location: gentian house #lan family feels #madam lan #hurt/comfort #twin jades of lan dynamics #Teen #medium fic 15k-49k #flower of justice #neoncoin

[dr-george-ordell]

"Don't linger in front of your own reflection, child, or it will steal your soul."

As a child, Aaron always had the silly little wish that someone would take him away. To be whisked away to a distant land of utopian desires fullfilled.

His father had always told him those desires were dangerous. Never directly, but Aaron had always heard the nagging warnings the paranoid man always gave him about superstitious, of old wives tales muttered only in the last dregs of sunset and fairytale-like stories that had seen war, life, death.

The decrepit old man had been especially obsessed with the Fair Folk. He had forbidden him to call it by their true name, the Sidhe. A few verbal lashings and slaps certainly delivered the message across permanently.

Another way his senior had drilled the lesson of how dangerous the Fair Folk were, was through precautionary children's tales. Constant lines from books hammered into him, alongside cryptic rants and long lectures lasting hours.

"Don't linger in front of your own reflection, child, or it will steal your soul,"

The older Siegel would warn, scowl, scold, all while pointing his finger accusingly. It was as if he could see through Aaron's carefully crafted mask around him, easily find the most minute cracks and flaws and glare deeply at them until he reached the innermost mechanical workings of Aaron's heart. In that heart made out of steel and copper, was the secret wish to belong. A painful childish longing for someone to take him away to a place that felt warmer, that embraced him softly like quilts on a winter day. He would've much preferred it to the icy frigidness of his father.

"Snowqueen," Aaron would silently mutter under his breath. He often thought of the story, reminicing over each line and repeating it until it burned into his mind. It was soothing repetition, one that comforted him during the freezing nights in which his father kept him out in the glistening snow.

One particular time Aaron was locked out, he remembered how numb and red his fingers were, his breath fogging as he struggled to breath in the dry, arid air.

His immune system had always been terrible, worsened by the fact his father seemed to enjoy locking him out the house. What he didn't know was asthma at the time severely plauged him, leaving his younger self wheezing with rattling lungs.

It was as if someone was dragging semi-molten glass shards through his chest even if he took the most shallow of breaths.

Aaron had to find somewhere to shelter. And fast before he became part of the crystalline frost.

Treking away from the woodland mansion, Aaron only looked back once he was at the edge of the forest.

The house was dark, as it usually were in winter, one dimmed, smothered light present in a window on the third floor. Frost-glazed windows shimmered in the dim glow of the moon, icicles having formed upon the many windows, giving the home a resemblance of a prison rather than a place that people raised family in.

During that moment where he stood, he hated, despised, felt like a savage beast being held back from snapping back at his father. He had always made excuses for the cruel man, desperately hoping one day that the older man could be one day be proud of what he did, declare that his previous actions were rough yet justified as he began to love Aaron like a parent would.

But at thirteen, he realised mirror shards of misery passed down from father to son for generations had embedded permanently within the elder Siegel's heart. He had only had been snapped out of one-sided delusion by walking past a frozen puddle, and staring wistfully into it, ignoring his father's lesson. On its reflective surface, Aaron saw the man he hated the most, his chiselled face and marred, red rimmed eyes glaring back at him with raw beastial hate.

It had hurt, and it still did, it caused a nauseous ache, it almost caused those mirror shards to root into his own heart. Even if he could finally let go of the guilt and shame of being a horrible, needy child. Aaron wept bitterly that cold, uncaring night. His innocent self grieving the fact his father didn't want to be saved, didn't want to change his ways.

His sobs reverberated broken and unrestrained, sounding more like a wounded, fearful animal than a human child. His face and eyelashes already being decorated by falling specks of white, lips burning in pain from the arid winter air. He was shaking, shivering as he hugged his knees, his toes stiff and numb in his boots. Aaron had curled himself into a fetal ball hiding within the oak hollow, attempting to shake the droplets of frozen water from his damp hair.

He was rocking back and forth almost violently, a desperate attempt for any peice of comfort he could have. Out here in the dead of night within the chittering forest, no one could hurt him if he was hiding away. But nature didn't coddle its subjects, nor was she soft or gentle.

Nature was just like the Fair Folk. Chaotic, yet symbiotic, predictable yet erratic.

Aaron wanted to laugh, but he found himself too weak to even move his lips. His father oh so desperately wanted to protect his child from the Fair Folk, from the monsters who lurked and lived on the edges of the wild. But the only thing Aaron was in danger of was succumbing to an awfully mundane death from the cold.

He hadn't remembered much from then on. It was a jumbled, blurred, a mess of glacial hands, warm hands, mumblings of children from a boyish voice, and a lyrical language spoken in a baritone voice foreign to Aaron's ears.

Someone had picked him up, a person with hair whiter than the snow, and porcelain-like skin. They appeared to be one with the snow, the resulting child of the unforgiving winter hail and blizzard. Icicles dangled like jewels off the edges of their thick winter cloak, adorning them beautifully like an ornament. What stood out the most was those amethyst eyes, boring into him as if they could penetrate through secrets most dearest through his heart.

That was all he recollected, until everything had became static.

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