#and giants with daggers and swords

[so-very-small]

oh, to be threatened by a giant’s dagger, the blade itself taller than I am

[jesncin]

Xanthe Zhou is Chindo now whoaa whoa that's nuts I love representation!! I'm a big "qpoc characters reclaiming cultural clothing" enthusiast so here's The Envoy in kebaya peranakan, sarong, and hanfu. The keris they're holding is based on my shaman friend's very own keris.

[ramyeonguksu]

Petra deserved a better preskip design imo so here’s a quick doodle I did with my take on her school uniform!

[a-chaotically-small-lunta]

Enchanted

G/t July is here!!! Woooo!

[chipperchemical]

broke: every Life Series member uses a diamond sword as a weapon because it's Minecraft

woke: i can headcanon them to have any weapon i want them to have

Bdubs - bow and arrow exclusively (uses the arrows as little spears in close combat)

BigB - no one knows?? sometimes he looks at someone and they just take damage randomly

Etho - classic diamond sword

Gem - guitar shaped like a battle axe (used as a battle axe)

Scar - smaller blades, like knives

Grian - prefers his fists, but also happy with explosives

Impulse - throwing knives and stars

Martyn - comically large hammer

Lizzie - anime magical girl giant sword

Mumbo - effectively redstoned up a literal gun (advanced bow and arrow)

Pearl - flamethrower and i won't elaborate

Ren - teeth and claws

Skizz - uses two large drumsticks (for hitting people, blocking by crossing them, and uses them for mobility as vaulting poles)

Scott - uses things from his environment more than anything

Joel - greataxe

Jimmy - very versatile, uses whatever his teammates have to hand

Tango - uses lots of smoke bombs (and real bombs)

Cleo - daggers

[bie-tch]

Thinking about Kai's fighting style in the realm of monsters, and how creative he had to get whenever he was (on the rare occasions) fighting without Rusty or Daidan to help him.

All of those monsters are impossibly bigger than him, and he needs to use something to hoist himself up in order to actually reach the head and neck. Him using his fire to heat his soles so it sticks to the skin in a mess of boiling flesh. Using daggers to anchor himself repeatedly to go upwards, then finishing it quickly with a slash to the back of the neck and hoping it falls forward instead of backward.

Then when other monsters gather around the new corpse, littered in a linear pattern of scars and burns, all in a line, same as the other few, a rumor spreads among the half sentient monsters.

A giant centipede of fire and steel, some say.

It finds a victim and coils around it, using its hundreds of legs to constrict it before finishing off in one strike, one says in awe.

It never eats it prey, leaving it to rot on the ground instead to show dominance, another says to its mate.

Even with its size, it's never been seen. It burrows underneath the ground, waiting for a chance to burst out and strike, a mother says to its young. Warning.

And the rumor grows, twisting into something more fantastical. Until one day, a lizard made of rotting wood and bone stumbles upon Kai, right on top of another monster, covered in black blood, catching his breath. The lizard scurries to its nest, and the rumor twists into something closer to the truth.

There is no centipede, it screeches. More gather around it.

It's small, and that's its way of trickery. It hides in plain sight, waiting for something to grow confident. To grow complacent and take its size for weakness.

It moves like no other. In flashes of red and orange and waves of blood and muscle. The fire and shadow are fond of this one, always hovering around it. Keeping it unseen.

Its eyes are as hollow as the abysmal ocean, devoid of mercy. Any it sees are guaranteed death, and those it spares are left mangled. Dying of their injuries. It never eats, never takes, only kills in slashes of flame and iron. It was never seen until now, no name it holds either.

After the rumor spreads further, more seeing the nameless monster in person, Kai develops a title. A warning for the ones who know it. There are many, some still calling it the fire centipede, another calling it the killer of giants, but there is one name that has gained popularity. That has made its way into the stories of every mother whispering to their young.

And now, when Kai pulls out his sword in a blaze of yellow and red, he finds that some scurry away. Screeching something he swore he could make out.

Fire Demon, they scream in fear, running off. Fire Demon, they cry out, warning others. Fire Demon, they think in horror, as none have survived it.

Fire Demon.

[maestro04yayyy]

Wait wait wait!!!! This is important!!!!

Shadybug is seen using THAT FUCKING SWORD!!!!!

I am pretty sure it's the same stupid sword every single evil version of the lucky charm happenend (anti bug, miraculer).

Please tell me i am wrong, they can't give that sword every damn time

NEW SHADYBUG AND CLAW NOIR PROMO!

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 5

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Arc 1: Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 Arc 2: Part 4 ― Part 5 (here) Arc 3: Part 6 ― Part 7 Arc 4: Part 8 ― Part 9 ― Part 10 ― Part 11

Without a second left to process, you disappeared before her eyes again and reappeared behind her. Hae-In only managed to turn around just in the nick of time and block an attack. When the dust cleared, she realized her blade was blocking off a staff, and her arms trembled as she tried to stop it from slamming into her face. 

Her eyes widened when the top part of the staff had a misty aura, and sensing imminent danger, she immediately backed away with the sword in hand. She stared at the spot she once stood, now with a craved blade in her place. The staff had turned into a scythe within seconds. If she hadn’t trusted her instincts, she might have been stabbed.

You clicked your tongue and moved in for another swipe at her. Without enough time to dodge, she used her blade to block it as best she could. However, it only managed to knock her to the side. You retracted the blade back into a staff, your hand hovered over the middle of the staff and moved towards the end to make a needle. Then you shot it in her direction without a second to spare. 

This time, she dodged it, but the sharp tip scraped her dominant arm. She faltered as she kneeled on one knee, using the sword as a support to prevent herself from falling over and creating more of a disadvantage to her already dire situation.

Seems like the winner of this match has been decided… Jinwoo thought to himself. “Are you satisfied now?”

“Not yet…” Hae-In panted, the colour on her face drained, “I can still fight.”

You could feel your eye twitch. This was getting more and more annoying by the second. You couldn’t help but leak a bit of your malicious aura out at her defiance and troublesome attitude. Why in the realms did you think she could be useful to you?

What’s she thinking? I didn’t think she’d be reckless enough to keep fighting even after realizing their difference in strength. This is not an actual summon of mine but a Monarch who’s still hostile to me. His eyes landed on your form. Though calm, he noticed the twitch in your fingers and eyes that gave away your irritation if one ignored the dark aura around you. I can tell… There’s an overwhelming thirst to kill being suppressed. If the Monarch of this realm wants to kill her, she’s dead.

“One more move,” Jinwoo said. He looked over to Hae-In. “If you can’t defeat my summon ally with the next move, then it’s your loss.”

The giant needle that was launched disappeared and reformed in your hand, this time as a pair of sharp claws extended from your hands. You ran forward at her. The quicker she loses, the quicker all this ends, and you can relax. 

{Skill: Sword Dance} Hae-In’s sword glowed a golden aura. When you were within range, her blade attacked without missing a beat and unstopping. You didn’t even appear to be in trouble as your claws swatted off the attack with ease. You glared at her as you grabbed onto the blade and broke it into pieces. This is the end for her.

Yet Hae-In didn’t stop as she went for another technique {Skill: Sword of Light}. What remained of the sword reformed its bladed shape with a golden glow. She made her move quickly as she tried to stab into your chest. You merely raised your open palm at her and your mist devoured her technique. Amid her disbelief, you kicked her in the stomach and raised your claw at her. Your glowing eyes stared down at her.

This ends now.

“Stop!”

When you came to realization, Jinwoo had his dagger out, blocking your attack aimed at Hae-In as the two solid surfaces clashed with sparks flying. Your crazed eyes turned back to normal, as did your aura. However, your eyes widened as they met the vessel’s, there was a brief moment of question and a burning sensation you couldn’t explain. None of that! You tsked and backed up, snapping your fingers to bring everyone back to the human world, back to that insufferable vessel’s office.

“My ally won, Hunter Cha.” That was all you needed to hear and left them without a word of exchange, leave Jinwoo’s presence for the moment.

You fell into a vortex and reappeared on some rooftop of a building. You sat down and crossed your arms with a scowl on your face. “Annoying. So annoying. How could Ashborn pick such a demanding vessel?” Like a volcano erupting, you screamed your lungs out, “Ahhhhhhhh!!!”

The shadow behind you shifted and a figure appeared.

You felt tick marks appeared on your forehead when you sensed another presence behind you, “Listen here, you little vessel! If you think―” Your words were cut short the moment your head turned around to see a familiar Shadow. “Igris.”

The humanoid Shadow bowed with a hand over his ‘heart’ area before stepping closer to where you were.

“It’s been so long. No wonder you weren’t in the army, you were sent to that vessel to look after.” You smiled at the loyal knight. “That vessel’s a handful, right?”

Igris seem to take a moment to think before he shook his head.

You raised a brow, “Why aren’t you saying anything?” At his silence, your eyes widened. “No… You aren’t at full strength, aren’t you? That’s why you can’t talk.”

Igris nodded.

“That vessel is incompetent…” You huffed.

Igris’ hand ruffled the top of your head.

“I am so complaining on your behalf! Wait. What name did he give you? Don’t tell me he took away your manly name!”

Igris shook his head.

That caught your attention, then another question popped up. “Then that special word. Is it still… [Arise]?”

Igris nodded.

“No way…” You turned to look down at the city below of the people mingling and living without fear or knowing what’s to come. One’s a chance, two is just… It can’t be a coincidence. The fact that this vessel, Jinwoo, was protected and raised to be such a powerhouse, even given Igris as his Shadow from the original army. Ashborn can’t be serious…

“I’m going to have a successor. Can you watch over them for me?”

No way. You shook your head forcefully. You hugged your knees close to your chest. The difference between a vessel and a successor was simple: a vessel is where the human soul is devoured the moment the Monarch arrives while a successor is where the original Monarch’s essence is… You buried your head in your arms.

“Igris… Is Ashborn mad at me for betraying him?”

Out of your view, Igris kneeled and placed a hand on your head, his cape wrapped around you for support and comfort. In a way, he was telling you as best he could that his former master had already forgotten about the ordeal.

You’ve waited too long for your answer, your redemption, your punishment, to be passed on to some outsider, worse, to some human. This was too much, such a cruel joke. Were you a fool to wait so long? 

You raised your head and stared at the tiny humans below that looked like ants crawling around. What did Ashborn see in these humans that made him pick a successor and sacrifice himself? What made this vessel, Jinwoo, so special?

Well, yes, Jinwoo was unlike any other human you’d met. He was kind and cold simultaneously, fair and just to those he met, strong and controlled in his overwhelming power. He could have the entire world at his feet if he wished. However, he strived for the simple things in life, like caring for his family. When you were held captive, you had seen how fast his mood changed at the call or text from his mother and sister. Even his guild’s vice master was a lowly D-Rank, but he treasures friendship over status.

But these were things he could do after having power. What happened before? Had he changed? Had Ashborn changed plans after Jinwoo’s growth? No, unlikely. If Ashborn had long ago said he was looking for a successor, he would have been thorough with his options. Something in Jinwoo must have caught his attention that he would make such a choice.

You need to know―to understand―why Jinwoo.

Why him, Ashborn?

You don’t want to admit it and you know you’re denying it. Ashborn wouldn’t abandon you and leave you in the care of his successor, this human that caught his favour with whatever stunts pulled before you met him. Ashborn cared for you, unlike the transactional relationship you would have with the Monarch of Destruction or the give-and-take relationship you have with the other Monarchs, you knew. You cared for him the same way, unlike how you treated the others, that he knew too.

So why? Why was there a need for a successor? You could understand building and growing a vessel. But an actual successor that was born a human? You can’t understand it at all. You can chop off your head and grow a new one over and over again, yet still can’t think of a reason why Ashborn would throw away his everything to give to a human successor.

Humans are fragile. Humans are complex. Humans are short-lived. You have seen first hand during your days on Earth. You’ve once grown attached to someone, that same someone was gone in the blink of an eye. That human that gave you unique security and affection gone like the dust in the wind. Your world shattered with that someone. Just like Ashborn.

Why else did you stall Ashborn in your realm of nothingness? You wanted him to be alive and well, without the need for any silly vessel or successor to continue living. Or the war, whatever. So long as he was alive.

Did Sung Jinwoo take Ashborn from you? No. He’s not powerful enough. He was a puppet, at least in the beginning. Ashborn wasn’t weak enough to be pushed by some humans as well. He was a strong warrior, one of the strongest. So the remaining answer was…

Ashborn picked Sung Jinwoo because he was worthy.

“Sung Jinwoo’s worthy…” Your eyes narrowed, the words that escaped your lips felt wrong but right at the same time. Igris, who stood by your side, bowed his head, agreeing with your statement. Your eyes slowly closed with your head tilted to the side in defeat, “Have it your way, Ashborn.” You exhaled through your nostrils, eyes opening with a faint glow as you stared at the setting sun. “But I have the final say for your real army.”

Note: There are more parts to come and I divided them into arcs. I might update this series into a mini-novel or not (cause it'll have more parts then all the other series I've done), maybe there's gonna be a new masterlist for this. I'll see. Are you guys still interested in this series though?

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST *(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah @rai-xxx @lilliana-14 @larettajudith @r3va-dwme @my-arietta @sikyulioness @sabrina-senpai @bubera974 @weaponxgames

[princessofghosts-posts]

I've been thinking about Nico's sword lately and honestly? That weapon alone is extremely OP,even more than whatever other weapon we had in the books (that don't include magical artifacts,because those are part af a different category).

Riptide is made of celestial bronze,so it can harm demigods and monsters,and has a special feature of always returning with Percy no matter what because it's enchanted.

IVLIVS could always be with Jason because it was a golden coin that turned into a javelin,but it got destroyed pretty fast in the narrative so we don't know if it had some other frature. It was also made of imperial gold so again,could slay monsters and immortals.

Katoptris's original use wasn't for battle,since Helen used it as a mirror,but with Piper it mainly focus on its special feature: visions. It was quite useful for them but Piper hated it so we never got to know much about the dagger.

Backbiter is a modified version of Kronos's scythe (sick enough with just this,since Luke can open portals and travelable rips through space and time),but it's made of tempered steel and celestial bronze so it can kill mortals,demigods and monsters and sever their souls.

All of those swords have different feature that distinguish them from normal ones,but they are still made of typical materials for demigods: imperial gold and celestial bronze,while stygian iron is only used for one sword in the books. Luke's sword,in this list,is the only one that is similar to Nico's in term of powerfulness,but it's still quite different.

Stygian iron is a magical metal capable of absorbing or destroying the essence of: monsters,Gods,Titans,demigods and Giants. And,unlike imperial gold and celestial bronze,it can harm mortals,monsters and immortals alike,and prevent the souls of monsters from returning to Tartarus,and traps those of the people it touches.

Technically stygian iron is the strongest,of all the metals,in the books. And the only sword made of this material is Nico's. Only the children of the Underworld can touch the material,but the sword itself can only be touched by Nico,otherwise everyone else souls get trapped and things can get ugly.

Like,not even Percy or Luke had this much power in their weapons: Riptide is a "normal" sword,for how much "normal" its user is,and Backbiter had so much power because it got modified to be similar to Kronos's weapon,but originally it was just made of different metals. But Nico? Nico got a weapon of mass destruction and extermination of humanity in his hand every day. And we never talk about how much damage it can cause,and how much OP it is compared to the other swords.

It doesn't even have a name like the others,but people already know to not fuck with a black sword laying around,becuse they know it's Nico's. Because he is the only one to have,use and held that sword. That's just how iconic it is and how unique it is to everyone. And just like Riptide and IVLIVS (before it got destroyed),his sword is always with him since he can summon it from the shadows and the darkness.

That weapon is OP,literally the strongest of the whole main timeline (we are talking about more than almost 20 books) and we never gave it much more than a look.

This is just another moment of Rick "I don't want someone to overshadow Percy but I already added this....I'll just made sure to not use that too much so people will not give it much attention" regarding Nico.

I'll probably do a list for how many times it happens.

[holy--milk]

okay here's another silly little AU idea for y'all

YQY brings a strange woman into the sect one day, cheerfully proclaiming that the two of them are getting married. everyone is cautiously happy for him (they've never heard about this woman before? but zhangmeng-shixiong looks really happy, so... yay?) until they notice that he's lost all interest in his most beloved shidi for some reason.

like someone approaches him with news of SQQ dropping by to visit the sect and he'll be like "cool :) anyway, my future wife here...". and it's not like. totally inexplicable. after all, isn't it natural for a man to want to spend more time with the woman he loves than with a random shidi? except it's not some random shidi, it's shen freaking qingqiu!! the man YQY unsheathed his giant cursed sword for on several occasions!! how could he have done such a 180 on him in such a short amount of time?

so YQY's shidi and shimei get worried that this strange woman is some sort of demon or evil spirit that bewitched their sect leader, and they call on SQQ to get out of his marital retreat at the demon realm and come assist them with exposing the villain ASAP. except it only takes SQQ spending half an hour in the company of YQY's fiancée (glaring daggers at him from across the room and making acerbic remarks to his every word) to come to the realisation...

OMFG the sect leader is marrying the reincarnated scum villain

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Cannibals [Chapter 9: Blue Jays and Red-Tailed Hawks]

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience! Life got hectic but I am back, besties. Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥳❤️💙🦇

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, mentions of sexual content (18+ readers only), blood and violence and warfare, character deaths, chaotic giant lizards.

Word count: 5.5k

💙 All my writing can be found HERE! ❤️

Tagging: @themoonofthesun @chattylurker @moonfllowerr @ecstaticactus @mrs-starkgaryen, more in comments 🥰

🦇 Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🦇

He reaches for his game piece, the shadowcat, although it isn’t purple but only a plain, crudely-carved chunk of oak wood, a makeshift imitation of its twin back in the Red Keep, assuming that Rhaenyra hasn’t stumbled upon and destroyed it. Daeron has sculpted the beast himself; he used a dagger that Aemond gave him as a gift before he was sent away to Oldtown, its hilt embellished with dark blue stones the color of Tessarion’s scales. He has made dice and a board too, and the other four pieces, homely little animals, proxies of his long-lost siblings. Daeron wonders if they miss him as much as he has always missed them. None of them ever said that in their letters, not in words so explicit. Aegon never really wrote at all; instead, he would scrawl barely-legible postscripts at the bottom of other people’s letters: Don’t drink too much, Learn some High Valyrian, Try not to get anyone pregnant.

“I am always the shadowcat,” Daeron explains, grinning. He shows the talisman to his companions, four soldiers fighting in the Hightower army, his closest friends. Then he places it at the starting line he has etched into the board.

“Why do you get the best one?” says Anthony of House Ambrose.

Daeron blinks. This has never occurred to him before. “Is the shadowcat the best piece?”

“Obviously.”

“I don’t know,” teases Josiah of House Roxton of the Ring, scratching his beard. “That butterfly is mighty fearsome.”

Now they’re all laughing. “Then you shall have the butterfly,” Daeron proclaims, handing it to Josiah. “That was my gentle sister Helaena’s piece. And you will never be as good as her, not if you pray to the Seven for a thousand years.”

“No,” Josiah agrees somberly, bowing his head in the firelight. It is just after dusk, and even here in the south, even within the cloth walls of the tent, the metallic chill of winter is creeping into every room like a vermin, like a spider or a rat.

“And Anthony, because you are clever yet envious and ever-grasping, I bequeath you Aemond’s wolf.” Daeron drops it into his open, calloused palm.

“I hope he doesn’t come looking for it,” Anthony chuckles. “I’m quite skilled with the sword, but I would be loath to meet the prince in combat.”

“I don’t want the worm,” slurs Oliver of House Fossoway of Cider Hall. Oli is quite drunk.

“It’s a snake, you idiot,” Josiah says.

“And it’s yours, Oli.” Daeron gives the tiny wooden snake to him. Oli accepts it reluctantly. “The snake was Aegon’s piece.”

“Long live the king!” Oli bellows with sudden fervor, and raises his cup of ale. Everyone toasts to the king’s health.

“Wherever he may be,” Daeron says before draining his cup and sweeping his silver hair out of his eyes, blue like a Targaryen’s, large and expressive like Mother’s. He feels that Aegon is still alive somewhere. He believes that if his eldest brother was dead, he would know it in his bones; there would be invisible, unbearable wounds like the ones that opened up when Helaena and Dreamfyre fell from the sky, days before Daeron received a raven carrying the news.

“What about my game piece?” asks Laurence of House Redwyne of the Arbor. He is a bowman and a healer as well, adept at herbal remedies and stitching. He would have preferred to be a maester or a septon, but as his parents’ only son he was compelled to endure the life of a lord. A squire arrives, refills all the cups with ale, departs with a swift bow.

“You are a Redwyne, and so you shall have Red’s bat,” Daeron says, entrusting the inanimate beast to Laurence. They know who he is talking about; they have heard more fireside stories of Daeron’s siblings than they could count. “And you are nothing like her. You are pious and poised, and you have never made your parents blush with shame. My Mother would have loved to have you for a son.”

“I’ll take your place,” Laurence says mildly, smiling. “You can be my parents’ dashing warrior, and I can accompany Queen Alicent when she prays in the sept.”

Daeron rolls first. He reads the dice and moves his shadowcat forward seven spaces. His brow knits together with determination. “I’m not leaving my mother there.”

“What? In the city?” Anthony asks, startled but not opposed. He is not one to shy away from battle. He believes that is where men find glory, where they ascend from mortals to something more, legends, heroes, gods.

Josiah snickers. “Not going to wait for Prince Aemond’s permission, huh?”

“The people of King’s Landing are in rebellion,” Daeron says, firelight flickering on his face. “Rhaenyra is desperate, and she is grieving Jace’s death, and she has my mother, Jaehaera, and Maelor in her grasp. What if Rhaenyra flees the city on Syrax and evades punishment for her treason? What if she executes my family, or if they are killed somehow when mobs overrun the Red Keep? I will not wait idly. Tessarion and I will recapture King’s Landing for the Greens.”

Oli raises his cup of ale again. “And we will fight with you!”

All five men toast, drink deeply, resume the game. Daeron wins; he has always been lucky.

~~~~~~~~~~

You stumble upstairs together, you supporting Aegon’s weight as best you can, tripping on the stone steps as lightning flashes outside the windows. Rain pours in sheets, wind howls through the cracked walls of the castle, and for a moment you think you are back at Heart’s Home, and that at the top of the tower you will find Luca waiting for you, safe and without pain and grinning his toothless little smile at you over Jace’s shoulder. Then—through the wine, through the torchlight and the thunder—you remember, and you feel the loss of them all over again, and when your knees buckle on the staircase Aegon drags you to your feet. You can sense that Alys Rivers is following you both, sweeping near-silently in her mossy green gown, peering fixedly with those strange silvery eyes like mirrors, haunting doorways and corridors. When you look back you catch glimpses of her, deformed shadows with long white fingers like the skeleton of a bat.

“I’m not a man anymore,” Aegon is blubbering as he collapses into his bed. His half-unbuttoned shirt is damp with spilled cider; tears gleam on his disfigured face.

“Shh, yes you are,” you soothe, lying down beside him. You rest a palm on his chest, gnarled grotesque scar tissue the color of a flayed man. Hazily, you think of the Bolton soldiers who must have marched south with Cregan Stark, and you wonder if when they sharpen their knives they are thinking of Aegon, or Daeron, or Aemond, or Mother, or maybe even you.

“I used to be,” Aegon sobs. “Now I’m just a useless, mutilated, flaccid freak.”

You burrow into him, drunk and drowsy. “Whatever you are, I’m glad you’re still alive.”

Aegon slings a scarred arm over your shoulder. Your ribs throb, your skull aches. “I used to love whoring,” he says miserably.

“The sport is not lost to you entirely. A working cock is not required to satisfy a woman.”

He laughs. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

“Perhaps you will recover. Perhaps you will find new ways to experience pleasure.”

“Perhaps,” Aegon agrees in a soft murmur, and then he dozes off.

And as the room spirals around you and thunder booms outside, you are carried back to other times and places, fleeting visions like the windows you once peered through into Aemond’s mind. You are a child being shoved into a wooden trunk and entombed there. You are tapping your little red bat around the game board. You are under the arbor grown over with roses and thorns, sunlight bleeding through the leaves in golden trickles. You are watching blue jays flit through a blue sky and bathe in the water of the fountains. You are playing with Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor, building fortresses of stones and sticks, collecting seashells with them on the beach. You are catching your bats when they soar in through the open window to land in your palms. You are watching Aemond ride back from hunting with one of his red-tailed hawks still perched on his glove. You are feeling your mattress shift beneath his weight, his hand on your thigh, his teeth on your neck; you hear a reverent whisper of High Valyrian. And then you hear the blistering shrieks of all the people he has killed, and you are reminded of Mother’s words about what you once shared with him: It’s strange, and violent, and obsessive and profane and…and…unnatural.

Was she right? She must have been. All it has led to is suffering.

If I had never loved Aemond, Luca and Jace would still be alive. If I had married some ordinary nobleman like Mother and Grandsire always wanted—his bloodline an inheritance from the Andals or the First Men, not the treacherous smoldering embers of Old Valyria—my children would be safe, and Helaena never would have tried to escape King’s Landing, and Aemond would have wed a Baratheon girl and perhaps accepted Lord Borros’ offer of dinner and rest that night in Storm’s End, and maybe Luke wouldn’t have been killed over Shipbreaker Bay, and there is a chance the war would never have happened at all.

But you didn’t listen to Mother and Grandsire, because you have never been tame, gentle, dutiful, ladylike. Jace saw this clearly; you were hungry.

You don’t fall sleep until dawn, and when you wake it is night again. The maids bring food, bread and butter and stew thick with fish and crab, but neither you or Aegon want it. You are marooned here together, not useful like Aemond or Daeron, not holy like Helaena, and the only remedy is cider that flows like molten gold, heat that burns in your throat like the fire of a dragon.

Now there is bleak grey midday light streaming in through the windows, and Aegon is screaming downstairs. You sit up, startled and bleary-eyed, your tangled silver hair strewn carelessly all around you. Alys is standing beside the bed. You yelp in alarm when you see her.

“A raven has arrived,” Alys says tonelessly. She has a red ribbon laced through her moon-white fingers and is toying with it.

“What? Why are you in here…?”

“I think it’s bad news.” Then she floats to the doorway and turns back to make sure you’re following, her hand with the ribbon resting on her rounded belly.

At the bottom of the staircase, Aegon is writhing on the stone floor, a piece of parchment—doubtlessly sent by one of his loyalists on the mainland, one of the very few who know where he is now, perhaps somebody at Rook’s Rest or Crackclaw Point—crumpled in his fist. Several maids are trying futilely to comfort him. You take the letter from Aegon so you can read it.

What is written there in black ink is a tale of triumph and ruin. Under the cover of darkness the Hightower army marched on King’s Landing, and the smallfolk rose up to join them when the soldiers breached the city walls, and the capital has been retaken by the Greens and Mother freed from her cell. Ulf the White was found drunk and senseless, and promptly murdered. Silverwing fled from the Dragonpit in the midst of the chaos. Daeron and Tessarion flew directly to the Red Keep and attacked Syrax where she had been kept in the courtyard, killing the dragon and thus destroying Rhaenyra’s chance to escape. The woman the Blacks call queen was captured and imprisoned, and the men of her council executed; but not before her bowmen shot Daeron through the chest and throat and he tumbled from the saddle and died alone, bleeding to death within the castle walls he once called home. Tessarion screeched in grief and would not leave his body, incinerating the archers when they dared to shoot at her next.

It’s in your pounding skull, a memory that fills your vision, harsh and luminous like lightning: Daeron as a child moving his little purple shadowcat around the board, how the rest of you packed up the game and never played again after he was sent to Oldtown.

“He was supposed to wait for Aemond,” Aegon is sobbing. “He wasn’t supposed to try to retake the city alone, he knew that, he was just a kid…”

You see Daeron falling from the sky, riddled with arrows and stained red with blood. You see Helaena and Dreamfyre plummeting down towards the beach where you once played with her children. And then you see Aemond plunging into the Gods Eye and being swallowed up by cold dark currents, sinking to the floor of the lake, dissolving into silt, disappearing from history.

I love him, you realize, an abrupt and agonizing laceration down to the bone. I might hate him, but I love him too. And hasn’t it always been that way?

You feel the heat of blood drawn on your cheek, taste the iron and copper of it on Aemond’s lips. Your skull aches, always on the left side.

“Why are we the ones still alive?!” Aegon wails at you. “You and me and Aemond were the monsters. But Helaena and Daeron, they were good, they were pure, they deserved to be here when the war is over!”

“It’s not over yet,” Alys says ominously.

“Go away, witch,” Aegon moans, covering his face with his hands. “Go away, go away, go away…”

Outside where soft rain is falling—you can see droplets on the windows and endless opaque fog—you hear the distant snarl of a dragon. And you have the overwhelming sensation that you are being called to.

Above the Gods Eye, the red and the blue, Alys had said. Aemond was blue…but who was red? Caraxes, Daemon, me?

The dragon growls again, not Sunfyre or Grey Ghost or Vermithor the Bronze Fury but the Cannibal, never ridden, never tamed, always hungry. Alys Rivers is holding something out to you. It is the red ribbon.

“He flies to his death,” she says levelly. “Unless you are there to catch him.”

Luca and Jace are gone. Helaena and Daeron are gone. Jaehaerys and Grandsire are gone. But I don’t have to lose Aemond too.

You take the ribbon and swiftly weave your hair into an untidy braid, then tie it off at the end with the strip of red. It is the first color besides black you have worn since you left Heart’s Home. Then you pad towards the castle entranceway in your bare feet.

Aegon is sniffling as the maids try to console him. He peers up at you from where he is still collapsed on the floor, a heap of marred skin and weak bones. “Where are you going?”

In answer, the Cannibal roars outside, immense and gravelly and malevolent.

Aegon says again, frantic now: “Red, where are you going?”

“To claim a dragon.”

“You can’t,” he says, stunned, petrified. “They all refused you.”

“I’m a different person now.”

“No!” he shouts as you turn to leave, lunging and wrapping his arms around your legs, trying to keep you here. “Please don’t go. Please stay. I don’t want to lose you too.”

Tenderly, you touch his tangled locks of silver hair, his mutilated cheek, his slumped shoulder. “If I don’t go, you might lose all of us.”

“It’s suicide. The Cannibal can’t be ridden.”

“But I know what he craves,” you say, and from across the room Alys smiles at you, her pale eyes glinting and her hands stroking the small globe of her belly. “And I want the same thing.”

You pull away from Aegon and escape into the mist, the rain, the cold wind and sea spray that burns in your lungs. He hobbles after you with his walking stick, pleading for you to stop, but he is too slow to catch up. Behind Aegon, Alys trails at a distance, meandering over the rocks. The magma trapped beneath the surface of the island flows like scorching blood through the arteries of the earth; the heat radiates up through the soles of your feet. The marrow glows hot and red in your bones.

You follow the Cannibal’s grunts and snarls and find him down by the water, a shore of jagged volcanic rocks and no sand, volcanic glass, fury hardened and cooled. But yours is still fresh. The Cannibal is feasting on the corpse of Grey Ghost. Gore hangs in crimson shreds from his craggy teeth; he has too many of them, they grow in rows like a shark’s. Frothing seawater laps at his claws. He raises his massive head—black scales and barbed spines, mindless primordial eyes green and luminous—and growls, steam rising from his flaring nostrils.

Fear strikes you, sharp and sudden. Your hands and knees are trembling.

“Let’s go back to the castle!” Aegon yells over the sounds of the sea and the gales of wind.

But you can’t stop now. The Cannibal called and you answered. And here, eighteen years late, you will have the dragon you were denied from birth.

You speak in High Valyrian as the wind gusts and rakes, your black mourning gown billowing, strands of silver hair ripped from your braid. “You hate your kind,” you say to the Cannibal, showing him the empty palms of your hand as you approach, cutting your bare feet on the rocks; and he watches you, eyes blazing, fangs revealed. “And I do too. I hate Rhaenyra for ordering the deaths of Helaena and Daeron and Grandsire. I hate Daemon for sending assassins into my home to murder Jaehaerys. I hate Aemond for killing Luca and Jace. And I hate myself for not being able to stop any of it.”

The Cannibal roars and his jaws open wide, revealing a gaping blood-red throat. From deep within him, lethal flames are building.

“I told you!” Aegon is shouting. “He can’t be tamed, get away from him! Red, come back, please don’t die, please!”

“I was weak!” you scream at the Cannibal in High Valyrian, stumbling over the rocks as you move closer. You bare your teeth at him like you did to Jace the night Rhaenyra took King’s Landing. “I was useless without you. I tried to forget my inheritance as a Targaryen, but it found me. It found me in the Vale, it found me as my son died in my arms. I cannot be gentle and toothless. I can only be the blood of the dragon.”

The Cannibal snaps his jaws shut and stills, his green eyes alight and fixed on you. Aegon and Alys say nothing; perhaps they are afraid to break the spell. You reach out and press your hand to the Cannibal’s muzzle; it comes away covered with Grey Ghost’s blood. You drag your tongue up the length of your palm and drink it. Dragon blood tastes like metal and smoke and the verdant rot of a swamp. The Cannibal growls from low in his enormous chest, but now his radiant eyes are curious.

“Help me kill Daemon and Caraxes,” you say as the wind howls and raindrops run in rivulets down your face. You place both hands on the Cannibal’s bloodied muzzle now. “You’ll kill your kind and I’ll kill mine. Together we will consume them. And I swear to you, my hatred burns every bit as hot as yours.”

You show the Cannibal, picturing it in your mind and knowing he can see: Aemond confessing that he murdered Luke, blood spurting when Jaehaerys was decapitated, Helaena and Dreamfyre crashing down to the beach outside the Red Keep, Jace lying dead in a crumbling stairwell, Luca’s blanket spotted with scarlet and his cries going silent, Daeron pierced with arrows, Aemond disintegrating in the depths of the Gods Eye if you cannot save him.

“I have all this hatred and no way to satisfy it. Let’s fly. Let’s devour.”

The Cannibal wears no saddle and never has. He is wild, and even now you will never own him. What you share will aways be a fight, a push and a pull like the tides, brutal and beloved, but isn’t that how you like it? You move to his side, wading in the shallow water on the shoreline, and hook your fingers around the spines that jut out of his thorax like thorns. His scales gleam like obsidian; he snorts tendrils of searing steam. He does nothing to help you, not stooping lower to the ground, not nudging you along with his snout as you’ve seen Sunfyre do for Aegon. The Cannibal only looks to Grey Ghost’s tattered corpse and takes another bite, crushing the ribcage between his jaws, ropes of gristle and deflated pink lungs gulped down.

Faintly, you hear Aegon say as he whirls to Alys: “Seven hells, I think it’s working.”

You heave yourself upwards and climb until you reach the Cannibal’s knobby spine, and nothing hurts, not your head or your ribs or the cuts on your feet or the scar that begins at your collarbone. As you are still searching for good spots to grab onto so you don’t slide off, crawling over the terrain of his back like stones, the Cannibal jolts forward and you scream when you nearly tumble head-first off of him and into the ocean. You grapple for purchase, eventually finding several large spines near his shoulder blades. You grip these thornlike appendages—your hands are too small to close around them completely—and now the Cannibal is diving into the Narrow Sea.

Aegon shouts something you can’t decipher, and then you are underwater and the world outside is muted. The ocean is ice cold and thrashing violently with the force of the Cannibal’s movement, and you hold on with your eyes squeezed shut, the currents wrenching you roughly, waiting for the dragon to resurface. But the Cannibal plunges deeper and pressure builds in your ears until it feels like they will rupture open and hemorrhage.

Is he trying to drown me??

You consider releasing his spines and paddling blindly for open air, but that would be a surrender. You would be unworthy. You would have no dragon. And the Cannibal would devour you like he did Grey Ghost.

You think in High Valyrian as loudly as you can: I will die here before I let go. I am not afraid of the afterlife. Half of my family is there already. Jace is rocking Luca in his arms, Helaena is placing ladybugs in his tiny wrinkled palms, Daeron is telling him that I’ll be home soon.

And then the Cannibal ascends, and through your eyelids you can tell there is light again, and he bursts through the surf and onto a rocky beach. He scrabbles over the ground, you lurching and blinking seawater from your eyes. The Cannibal’s black wings, ragged from battling other monsters, open like the wings of a raven or a bat. You peer down and the island is growing smaller and the wind is forceful, the ocean rippling under the gusts from the Cannibal’s wings.

You look over your shoulder, and for only a moment you glimpse Aegon standing on the shore and cheering, waving, whistling, and Alys watching with a smile. Then the Cannibal banks and carries you higher into the grey clouds. The air is frigid, and you can’t see anything through the fog, but you are grinning as the wind stings on your teeth. At last, you know what it is like to fly. Dreamfyre bonded to the gentle, Vermithor to the powerful and ambitious, but you were made for a different sort of beast. Your dragon is hateful. Your dragon is hungry.

The Cannibal circles back to Dragonstone, breaks through the sightless mist like a blade through flesh, and lands beside Aegon and Alys and snarls at them, gnashing his gore-stained fangs. Steam blasts from his nostrils and blows through their hair. Alys shrinks away from him, her hands cradling her belly protectively.

Aegon is laughing hysterically. “What now?” he says, marveling at the Cannibal, awed and horrified in equal measure. “All these years you thought there was something wrong with you. Thank the gods your egg never hatched.”

“Aemond is meeting Daemon in battle above the Gods Eye. That’s where I’m going.”

“Do you even know how to get there?!”

“It’s west of here. That’s a start.” But you see a mirage through the Cannibal’s ancient green eyes: a time years ago, decades, centuries, when he flew over the Riverlands and felt the foreign magic of the Old Gods, natural adversaries to Valyrians. He flew away from them then. He can find his way back now.

In High Valyrian, you think: Take me there and we will kill our own.

Yes, an ancient voice rumbles in your skull, wrathful black bottomless gluttony. Yes, yes.

~~~~~~~~~~

It gleams like a sapphire in the face of the earth, the Gods Eye as you descend through dense clouds that taste like metal when you breathe the winter sky into your lungs. You have flown through the night, and you both would be exhausted if not fueled by hatred the way wood feeds a fire.

The Cannibal shows you things through his archaic reptilian eyes—the Targaryens arriving on the doorstep of his lair after heeding Daenys the Dreamer’s vision of the Doom of Valyria, Aegon’s Conquest and Visenya’s scheming, Maegor the Cruel’s ashes being interred on the island where he was raised, the Old King Jaehaerys fleeing with Alysanne to Dragonstone so they could marry against the wishes of his advisors, Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding and happiness there before the war began, dragons coming and going, storms and eruptions and shipwrecks, claws and fangs and raw meat—and so you learn what it means to be a dragon. You show him your comparatively few memories in return, your momentary existence, and he begins to understand you too.

The dark skeletal remnants of Harrenhal, promised to Alys and the son she shares with Aemond, appear as the Cannibal flies lower. On the fields by the lakeshore, armies are clashing in battle; you see the banners of House Stark, House Lannister, and the dual factions of House Targaryen. High above the murky blue water, Vhagar and Caraxes are twisted in lethal combat, flames pouring from their jaws, claws scraping away scales.

Aemond, you think, and you wonder if he has already felt that you’re here.

The Cannibal glides with his vast, frayed wings over the Green soldiers, and you spot Criston among them, astride a galloping white horse and wielding a sword. He stares up as the Cannibal’s shadow falls over him, and he sees what you have brought with you, and he is so staggered he cannot look away. Men are pointing and shouting. The Northmen are pulling up their horses, their infantry bolting for the trees. In front of you are thousands of enemy combatants, anonymous and swarming like ants.

“Dracarys,” you whisper, and the Cannibal opens his jaws and spills a river of fire down on the Northman. Their banners burn, their horses scream and scatter, their men are cooked in their armor and stumble towards the water to extinguish themselves. You feel the Cannibal’s malevolent satisfaction. He feels your hatred turning lighter, anemic, easier to carry.

He swoops up into the sky where Vhagar and Caraxes are intertwined. Vhagar has the Blood Wyrm’s long, serpentine neck clenched between her fangs, but Caraxes is not dead yet; he has clawed through the scales of Vhagar’s belly and opened her, unspooled her, disemboweled her. Vhagar’s intestines cascade from her abdomen and tangle around her kicking feet. She is bleeding to death. She will fall soon.

Daemon knows there is no escape. He has Dark Sister in his fist and is preparing to jump from his saddle and deliver the deathblow to Aemond. You remember Daemon stalking you around the courtyard of the Red Keep with the same sword, twirling it in his hands and fantasizing about slitting your throat. The Cannibal understands this as if it is his own memory and unleashes crimson flames upon Caraxes. In his final seconds, Daemon turns and sees you, and the last thing he feels is not triumph but shock and heat and excruciating, incinerating pain, a fire that burns ruinously clean, leaving not even the bones.

Vhagar is dying. She releases Caraxes and the smoldering, broken dragon tumbles resistlessly into the lake. Aemond is calling your name. The Cannibal soars towards them, almost close enough now. Vhagar goes limp as she exsanguinates, her wings stop flapping, her colossal body spirals down towards the Gods Eye. Aemond unfastens his chains and leaps from the saddle. It is his only chance; if he hits the water with Vhagar, he will be knocked unconscious and drown, sink, vanish. His long hair is a ribbon of silver. His hands grasp for you and the Cannibal, catching nothing but empty air.

You reach for him as he falls and the wind rushes through your fingers, grey as steel and cold like the descending winter.

~~~~~~~~~~

A year ago, twilight in the garden of the Red Keep, the fountain trickling lazily as you perch on the edge with Blue Jay clinging to your forearm. High above, silver glints of constellations are burning through the indigo sky. On the ground, you kick pebbles around aimlessly with your bare feet. You avoid his gaze because you’re trying to pretend you’re teasing; you don’t want him to see how upset you are. “They’re going to make you marry a Baratheon girl.”

“No they aren’t.”

“Yes, Aemond, they are. I understand that. You don’t have to lie to me.”

“They’re going to try,” he purrs into your ear as he sits down beside you, petting Blue Jay with one lithe hand. “But I won’t do it. If Borros Baratheon needs a marriage to seal his alliance, then Daeron can wed his youngest daughter. I’ve already written to Daeron, and he agreed. He was willing, in fact. If it means he would be coming home to King’s Landing at last.”

“Lord Baratheon will want you,” you insist. “You are older. You are closer to the throne.”

“I’m very close to it,” Aemond agrees, kissing the apple of your cheek and then biting you there, the sharpness of his teeth, the pink warmth of bloodrush. Blue Jay swoops off into the dusk to devour the wheeling white specks of moths and lacewings.

“He will try to tempt you, he will offer you a beautiful bride.”

“Oh, yes, she will be beautiful,” Aemond murmurs, and when you strike at his chest he catches your wrists and yanks you in closer. “And she will be meek, and compliant, and ladylike in every way, and if she was mine she would lie down and spread her legs for me whenever I asked, because that is what is required of a dutiful wife. She will be devout…and decorous…and sinless…”

“Then marry her instead,” you hiss as you battle with him, fighting to get away, not wanting to win. Aemond drags you off the ledge of the fountain and into the cool shallow water. You splash as you struggle, your fingernails raking against his throat and the blind side of his face where he can’t see to defend himself, your long silver braid heavy and sodden, your blood-colored velvet gown drenched and clinging to you like muscles to bones.

“But the Baratheon girl wouldn’t be like me,” Aemond says, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at him, and while his hands are rough his voice is soft, almost like a whisper, almost like the prayers that Mother sighs in the sept, pleading for the gods to tame her children. The thrashing water goes still. Your heartbeat is slowing. You gaze into the crystalline blue of his eye and are trapped there like a sailor sinking to the bottom of the sea. “And she wouldn’t be like you either.”

You grin—relief, triumph, hunger—and Aemond kisses you, not like how a lord kisses a lady but how animals devour each other, fierce and biting, insatiable, unashamed.

Aemond says as he kneels in the water of the fountain, bats you named after him flapping overhead in a darkening sky: “I have to leave for Storm’s End at dawn. I won’t be gone long, I won’t sleep there even if I’m invited too. Wait up for me tomorrow night.”

“No,” you answer, taunting him; but you will.

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFT part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout, Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she had done so many times before. This one's antics are just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that the details of swirling clouds were so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard, helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone who's not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing, Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words, just begging him to chase her around the small space again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” She held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as her steps echoed with every step she took closer to him to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk, and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. She even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly, her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as she tried to get the situation out of her mouth and understood as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice getting clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, his friend's master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize, it was hard to tell. He could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter ones Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, her shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly, it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time, she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now, though? She was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as she huffs and puffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest, she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates, she bent down to get a proper look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us, I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her, he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots made a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, Prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything, it's just a sign that you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever she was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat, I should know what I'm going into, and Master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so overconfident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure she could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The ones I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” Her hands clapped together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this, it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when she glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier, too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall. I jumped.”

“And you're sure about that, Prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations, Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow, it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind her ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke she lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here, he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor, Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if she had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before, she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break, but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, causing her to whine at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth, he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on, Prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something, and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade- of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow, that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter, Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, Prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his. as she told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out for a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers, her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

She didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink, and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled her into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. She the lake he would willingly jump in even if he drowned.

“Pr-Prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Of course, even like this, she's snarky.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind, she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was his Prodigy who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year, so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Behind them, he could see the cloud knights assigned to this mission, just like she was.

Shinign blue armor just like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, she was.

A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning: no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms, despite the fact he wasn't going to be beside them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, Prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients she never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. The young apprentice of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew the girl best, she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

She can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men who were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable, but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died, the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

The sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was, stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image, they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, General,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition, the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared, the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the number of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it faded away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper, despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teased over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

I love you.

I'll be back in two years.

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now, and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words, or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we could try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night, to me, was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years' time when you are at the age I am now, you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while, too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite your jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.- Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First, someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow, I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform, for I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters to the point they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

I am sorry I grew up without you.

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 42 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Welcome to the Storeroom

We are all so justifiably fond of this episode for its wonderful staircase scene and undershirt scene that it's easy to forget that it mostly consists of an endless scene of dudes standing around talking and making faces while a woman kills herself for the sake of the plot. So, I'm here to go over it in excruciating detail! Let's go!

We pick up where the last episode left off, with Lan Xichen demanding access to Jin Guangyao's bedroom because he wants head. A head. Nie Mingjue's head. Jin Guangyao isn't as compliant as usual, with all these extra people coming to join the party, and Su She runs up and says that Gusu Lan is rude.

Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen react to him like he's a gross bug, and Wei Wuxian roasts him for copying Lan Wangji all the time.

Jin Guangyao tells him to chill and then, having failed to charm his way out of the situation in the previous episode, says that he'll let everyone in as a favor to Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen is still not charmed.

Everybody walks through the cool magic mirror into a giant storeroom where his wife is standing with her eyes closed, doing absolutely nothing. Lan Xichen asks what's up with that and Jin Guangyao says she likes to come into the treasure room to look at all their stuff. Which might be convincing if she wasn't obviously magically enthralled.

(More after the cut!)

Everyone casts their eyes around awkwardly because they don't want to know about whatever freaky shit JGY and Qin Su get up to in private. Except Wei Wuxian, who always wants to know about everyone's freaky shit. He goes and takes a long look at her and walks around her in a circle wondering (on voiceover) why JGY didn't kill her or move her somewhere else.

He tries to talk to her, since she seems pretty much dead, which makes her his idea of a fun hang. Su She says that he must have come in here to talk to her. Remember, WWX is pretending to be Mo Xuanyu, and the show is pretending that Mo Xuanyu was heterosexual, and JGY is pretending that MXY got kicked out for sexually harassing Qin Su.

Nobody says "hey dude, what the fuck is wrong with your wife, why is she frozen" which is weird considering that even the corpses in this show are active and chatty. Wei Wuxian goes to look for Nie Mingjue's head in the place it was before. It's not there and he doesn't think to look anywhere else, even though there is another warded curtain on the other side. Fucking ADHD.

What he finds instead is a dagger, which Jin Guangyao takes out and flourishes. He tells us the following things about this dagger:

It used to belong to Wen Ruohan, then he gave it to Wen Qing

It has killed countless people

It's resentful energy is very strong, which is why it needs a talisman curtain in front of it, although waving it around in a room full of people is fine

It's very sharp! This is always funny to me, when sword cultivators hype up the sharpness of a blade. Like, surely someone as rich as Jin Guangyao has a dude on his staff whose entire job is sharpening all the things?

5. When you look at it, you don't see your reflection, but the reflection of someone it has killed. The VFX department clearly didn't get that note, because while he says this, his own reflection is showing on the blade of the dagger.

He doesn't mention whether Wen Qing used this dagger to do surgery on Wei Wuxian, but I'd like to think it is, just for funsies.

Jin Guangyao holds it out in front of him within easy reach of his suddenly-awake wife. Qin Su grabs it and plunges it into the right side of her abdomen, and dies INSTANTLY.

So, I know we're going for stylized death here, and I wouldn't object if she had done the traditional cdrama neck-cut where you spin around in a circle with a sword at your throat and then die with a little fake blood on your neck. It's cool and just the type of ridiculous that I like to see. It also is a trope that is deeply ingrained in both western and eastern cinema: a cut to the neck will kill you instantly.

There's another equally-popular trope, however: a gut injury or gunshot will NOT kill you quickly. There is a reason Samurai committing seppuku need a second person to lop off their head; otherwise they die slowly. How slowly? I tried to look that up and google got very insistent about telling me about suicide hotlines instead of answering my question. Anyway, what I'm saying is that it's ridiculous for her to die instantly from a stomach wound, and it's extra annoying because so many women in this show die just so men can have feelings about it. Ugh.

Nobody tries to help her, other than JGY telling her to wake up and Lan Xichen checking her Qi. Nobody thinks of, like, a bandage. How are any of these idiots still alive after years of sparring with blades? Maybe they really don't sharpen anything.

Everyone stands around reacting silently for the next several minutes while Jin Guangyao frantically asks a bunch of questions he already knows the answers to. Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang run in and also start reacting.

This scene is like watching an acting class called "reaction faces 101."

Su She transferred in via drop/add from the Eyebrow Work seminar.

Lan Wangji is working on an advanced thesis in minimalism

The prof is getting ready to tell Jin Ling he should consider changing majors.

Jiang Cheng out here ruining the curve for the rest of the class.

Lan Xichen gives a quick recap for them of the previous 41 episodes, finishing up by saying that the sword spirit looks like Baxia. Nie Huaisang asks if the body is Da Ge, and promptly "faints" when Lan Xichen confirms it. Lan Xichen goes back to recapping while Jin Guangyao pretends not to know what's up. Everyone in this scene is speeking as slowly as humanly possible and all of the dialogue is just recapping shit we already know.

Su She talks about how it's puzzling that Lan Wangji, who is righteous and stuck-up, is spending all of his time with a notorious ho like Mo Xuanyu.

Jin Guangyao (FINALLY) draws his sword on Wei Wuxian, only to have it blocked by Lan Wangji. Su She starts to draw his sword but Lan Wangji tells him to stop, and he does.

More reaction faces. *Yawn*

Wei Wuxian tells Lan Wangji to step aside, taking the opportunity to feel his shoulder muscle. Su She promptly lunges and Wei Wuxian dodges. All those years months of fighting with a flute instead of a sword made him very good at ducking.

He spins around and grabs the nearest sword, drawing it and fighting Su She with it. Conveniently, the nearest sword is Suibian, which nobody can open except him. He already opened it once in paperman form, so Jin Guangyao probably put it in an easy-to-grab location for this same purpose.

Jin Guangyao hollers that Yiling Laozu has returned to the world. He took a movement class last semester so he switches which is his forward shoulder to emphasise his shock.

Nie Huaisang wakes up and acts like he doesn't know what's going on. Jin Ling doesn't understand why Zidian didn't work, if he's really posessing Mo Xuanyu. Jin Guangyao drops some exposition to explain how the sacrificing curse works. Now everybody is pointing swords at thim, while exposition continues….endlessly. We get it, the sword is sealed. For fuck's sake, we're 16 minutes into this episode and only two things have happened.

Jin Guangyao takes a swing at Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji blocks it, and then WWX blasts them with an annoying-sparkles talisman, which works against 8 armed cultivators, just like it worked against Wen Chao and his gang way back in the old days when they tried to catch Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian run out of the room together, to find a crowd of around 25 cultivators, which is probably meant to represent an army.

Lan Wangji clamps his hand onto Wei Wuxian's wrist and jumps over the cultivators with him, even though we've seen evidence that Wei Wuxian's lightness skills (the jumping-around part of kung fu stunts) are almost as good as Lan Wangji's, core or no core. Admittedly Wei Wuxian can't just fly into a scene from outer space like Lan Wangji seems to do from time to time.

Back in the storeroom Su She asks JGY if they should chase after them - WHY would you even need to ask that? - and JGY says to chase them. So Su She leaves, by himself, while everyone else just stands around doing nothing. Way to act like you didn't already know about Mo Xuanyu being Wei Wuxian, guys.

Jin Guangyao takes an opportunity to masterfully guilt trip Jin Ling about being fooled by Wei Wuxian, "no wonder you took the murderer of your parents as a friend."

The cultivators near the steps finally decide to chase Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, who are halfway down the big staircase. Lan Wangji keeps ahold of Wei Wuxian's wrist as they run down the stairs together.

Why aren't they just jumping down the stairs? Lan Wangji is capable of hovering in the air while playing a guqin in battle; surely he can jump over a second group of cultivators? This isn't a very logical scene but that's ok, because it's setting things up for one of the best scenes in the show....which I'll cover in the next post. *shakes fist at Tumblr's 30-image limit*

[first-edition]

Breath

Sandor Clegane x Princess! Reader

Hound saves you from drowning. 

Cw- drowning, cpr, reader has hair, fem reader, skin color not relevant, kissing. Mutal pining

Walking by the lake side with Sansa and a few other royal ladies while they gossip and giggle was supposed to be fun and contentful. You had a few guards including sandor clegane, too look after your little group. 

You've grown fond of sandor. When your mother sent you to king's landing to entrust cersi to find you a prince fit for you, you grew closer to the giant gruff man than the 200 suitors who approached you. You'd often find yourself searching for him. Even if he has a job to do you'd watch him spar with others or stand quietly next to jeoffry or the queen herself. And he would look for you all the same, hes watch as you sat and read under the gardens shade, or just like now, would accompany you on a stroll.

Your small entourage stops by the lake side on top of the small over bridge. 

“Oh look at the knights.” one lady says as a large group of knights and knights in training head twords you all. Some on horseback.

“I do love a man in uniform.” another lady says they all giggle you took down at the water the clear greenish blue and the ducks that sit upon it. 

“Don't you princess?” she asks you. You turn around to see her and the others smiling at you. 

“Oh.yes very much.” you reply taking a quick glance at sandor who is looking the opposite direction.. You turn around to continue admiring the ducks when your sheer shall is blown from your arm with the gust of light wind. You gasp seeing it landing on a branch ever so barely in reach. You hold out your arm to reach stretching out and grasping your fabric between your fingers before carefully pulling it back into your arms. 

When you turn back around you meet with the large group of knights and the horse which startles at shifting bricks beneath its hoof. The side of the horse as the rider tries to gain control shoves you causing you to fall backward over the edge into the water. Commotion of the other women screaming for your safety as the small current of the lake shifts your frame. As you try to swim up you're weighed down but the weight of your dress head is still under water. The guard rushes to your aid but Sandor pushes them out of the water, stripping off the heaviest parts of his armor before diving in after you.

To make matters worse the fabric of your gown has tangled in the settled branches and brush within the water. The burning in your lungs from lack of oxygen causes panic to surge through you as you pull on your dress. Your vision becomes spotty as you try to inhale only taking in water before your sight goes black. 

Sandor swims down to you pulling his dagger from his side and cuts your top gown before pulling you into his arms and swimming back up with you. He lays you back seeing you're not breathing. He takes a breath before connecting your lips with his before blowing air into your lungs and begins to pump your chest repeating this twice before you turn on your side coughing up water gasping for breath. 

You hold onto sandor as your keel to the side coughing. More commotion ensues as cersi comes running down the edge. 

“Is she okay.?!” she asks worriedly. 

“Yes, your grace.” a guard says 

Sandor packs you up in his arms. As cersi tells another to get the maester as soon as he can. You don't realize your crying until cersi wipes your tears telling you it'll be alright. 

—-----

You open your eyes surrounded by warmth. You're in your chambers you must've fainted again. You recall what happened realizing Sandor saved you. You look around your room for a dressing robe to put on only to find Sandor sitting by the side of your bed sharpening his sword quietly. 

“S-sandor?” you speak. He stops and looks up to you. He gets up putting the weapon down. 

“You saved me…thank you.” you say 

“It's just water.” he says 

“I fainted, I don't remember much after I hit the water…how did you save me?” you ask. Sandor looks at you stepping closer, your eyes looking up at him your face pure want and confusion. Your hair messed, in the sheer night dress, the soft pillows and duvet around you, the sheer canopy flowing ever softly around the posts. 

“I gave you air…my father did it for my brother once i assumed id work on you.” he says giving a huff as he mentions his brother. 

“How? You don't know magic.” you ask as you shift onto your knees sitting up.

“It's hard to explain.” he answers. 

“Then show? I might need it if I come across someone who's drowning.” you say. 

He steps closer to you at the edge side of your bed he moves part of the canopy to the side you face more. Your eyes are glued down to his middle to wait to see his hands do some magical movement but his free hand comes up to lift your chin. You look up at him. 

“I won't show you.” he says 

“Why?” you ask a little annoyed. 

“You have to put your lips to the other person and blow your breath into their lungs” he says your heartbeat pounds your chest and your breath hitches. 

“And you're not drowning. So there's no need for extra air.” he ends as he's about to lean back. You take a hold of his wrist keeping him where he is.

“You could demonstrate without giving me air.” you say looking up at him. He moves back closer to you. His face stops centimeters away from your face. His eyes flick down to your lips before backup to yours.

“P-please…” you say quietly. Without a second he presses his lips softly against yours before pulling back slightly and then diving back into you. His hand that's holding up your chin now rests on your waist pulling you up and into him your arms find themselves around his neck holding onto him. The kiss lasts for a bit until you both pull back still staying close lips almost grazing over. 

“Marry me.” he says. 

“Yes.” you reply without thought or hesitation. You've wanted Sandor since you saw him. His stern demeanor slowly broke away with your interest and kindness. And he will cherish you and what's to come always.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Knight König who, after bravelly defending the castle alone and saving all the beautiful young maidens, is now *gasp* alone with them!! You and the rest of the young ladies are not even married yet and this whole horror of a siege came :(( you had to be locked inside the maiden tower with the other ladies, praying to the gods that someone strong would defend you, and here he was!! The giant knight from the north from whom you were always herded away 'because a brute like him has no business with fine young ladies like yourselves' :((

Imagine König who is for the time being the only male in the small castle, the foe has been defeated but any kind of help will take days to arrive :( During the fighting his mind was on slaying all the enemies to defend the flock of the frightened ladies but now...??

He's the only male among a dozen of maidens!! And these poor does are so scared in their tower on comfy beds of furs with all the supplies...so many warm, soft bodies to keep him warm and 'aid him to help his wounds', so many broad hips and breasts to grab and squeeze for comfort...oh and they are so ready to share all the supplies with him!!

I mean...who's to say that a war hero doesn't deserve something good too? :D

GFDFSSSS first I was like "gangbang medieval style yeehaw let's gooo" but then I had another quick idea (in all honesty writing gangbangs make me blush furiously lmao I'm weak!)

CW: Fear of SA, mention of blood, boners galore, dubcon groping, period typical attitudes, gender roles etc.

Knight!König asking you to wash him (because he was seated next to you at this one feast and now he's obsessed...)

König, who never had time for women because he was always on duty, whose best chances for a wife were an old widow or some soiled woman, whatever that meant... Probably some lowly lady, for a lowly knight like him. His family must hate him because they keep him from having even that: instead, he gets shipped off to this outpost of a castle that houses hundreds of soldiers and only a few women. Even they are kept under lock and key most of the time, and it's no wonder... A man like him shouldn't even be dreaming of dipping his dick in the pretty soft things of the Maiden’s tower.

König, who even to his own surprise, finds himself victorious after weeks of siege. Who's left completely unchecked and alone with a flock of scared fawns, poor does who are now gathering together for warmth and safety. They only have tiny daggers and iron scissors as their weapons against an armed knight, knowing they’re not always safe even from their own men – especially after a battle.

Even the strongest, most valiant knights get tired during a siege, turning into starved animals after a few weeks. A soldier fresh from war is the worst thing, having his cock up after bloodying his sword, they usually need to have a woman as soon as possible. A victorious knight, finding himself winning against all the odds, would surely prefer to fuck every single one of the soft cunts locked up in the women's tower...

So König, who batters the door and orders the frightened women to lift the baulk, only gets screams as an answer. They finally open it when he says he's tired after a fight and only wants to rest for a bit, puts on his most charming smile as the huge wooden door creaks open, and meets the ladies with a wide grin despite having blood all over him, stands proudly in his full height with his sword still drawn, a path of entrails and cut limbs behind him – why are they still screaming? He saved them! He should be given a royal welcome!

König, who finally gets the women to calm down a little when they notice he is not about to rape them on sight, who wipes his sword with one of their finest, freshly dyed wools (rude!). Who sheathes his weapon and smiles again, suggesting that they help him out of his plate and give him a wash – he’s earned that much, no?

König, who eats from their bowls as if he has never even seen food, who gawks at their tapestries with curiosity, who tries to stare down their necklines and catch a sight of those beautiful, round, plush tits. Most women quickly rush to heat the water to escape the possible groping about to ensue, while you are left with the task of getting him out of his armor.

The straps are small and endless, the armor consists of dozens of different parts, and he just keeps on grinning widely while you’re at it, giving you odd compliments and passages of courtly love with his mouth full of food. Some of his ramblings are straight out of a troubadour’s song, but you don’t believe a word he says, especially when his heated stare is fixed on your exposed neck, the collarbones so frail, the cascading wool that reveals your wrists as you try to pry your way under the heavy, bloodied pauldron.

Of course he remembers you, down to the minutest detail because he got to feed and take care of you at last winter's great feast... Someone had fucked up and seated you next to him in their error, and he heedily took advantage of the situation. He even managed to have a grope at you when the lords and ladies weren’t watching because they were so drunk.

He was drunk too, intoxicated by the strong ale and the shy stares you granted him. You didn’t do a thing when he pulled you closer and practically fed you some deer off your shared plate, tried if you'd fancy a date or a sip of wine while keeping you tightly tucked in his lap. He couldn’t get enough of you: your tiny gasp when you felt him grow hard, your whimper when he stole a soft squeeze of your tit… Your shy ghost of a smile as you demurely called him “Sir” and told him to stop before he gets you both into trouble. 

Ever since that night, he has dreamed of you when pulling out his leaking cock. Sinned until he felt embarrassed to go to the chapel and yet again confess that he has defiled himself with his hand and thoughts of you. Ever since that night, he has wondered whether you are giving those whimpers to someone else nowadays…

But here you are, in the tower, taking off his plates and using all your strength to get him out of his chainmail. Why haven’t you been married off yet? Why aren't you making blankets and throws at some fancy lord's castle by now? You have the perfect hips for delivery, it's practically a sin to keep a woman like you locked up in a military fortress…

And polite curtsies and shy, downcast eyes won't save you now, you know that.

How can you say no to a knight, ordering you to give him a wash? “Do him the honor,” he says, while anyone can see he’s already hard.

There’s nothing the others can do but put up a curtain and leave you two to your featherlight privacy. He doesn’t even bother to undress behind it, simply flaunts that monstrous thing between his legs for everyone to see before giving you the honor of strolling to the steaming bath. A soft silence fills the tower as the knight, tall as a legend, hairy as a beast, climbs into the small wooden tub with a grunted sigh.

You, the maiden he picked, can only look in horror as he grows even harder under the hot water. The thick erection soon juts above the surface, the dark curls framing the base of his cock now floating lusciously underwater, the dark hair covering his full balls, too. Either he's just big everywhere or then he's been too busy during the weeks of the siege... The amount of times you've seen him abstain from meat in this castle is ridiculous, and you always wondered if he ate fish because he liked it or because he had defiled himself in his lust.

He's an animal, but having a woman is not a sin as foul as throwing his seed on the ground... And here he is, strong thighs spreading as far as they can go to give room to the astounding erection he’s having just from the prospect of your touch.

The knight leans back in the tub, looks at you with a drowsy, soft smile, and tells you not to be afraid. The thick, throaty voice leaves your knees completely weak.

“Ach so... Have you ever touched one of these before?”

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

Let’s talk about Esmund and Garroth shall we?

we shall

Esmund was the protector. Many thought this because he was a divine warrior and a guard to Lady Irene but that’s only half the truth. Esmund was a divine warrior yes, but he was never a guard. Let alone one of Irene’s.

Other believe it was due to his sheer strength. Which is also half true. He was a large man, built like a brick wall type. But he rarely solved things with his fists or his sword. He was a gentle giant, preferring to talk things out.

The truth behind his title is one that’s been seemingly forgotten by time.

Esmund was a prophet. He had visions of the future, and warned his people in accordance.

Before meeting Irene, they were only right about 60% of the time. After receiving his relic he was able to zero in on every detail and they became much more accurate.

That was Irene’s reason for choosing him, his want and his ability to help others without reward.

Esmund was nothing more than a lumberjack. He had no money to his name, and the townsfolk often feared him for his abilities. After all, before the divine, no one had ever even heard of magicks.

Eventually Esmund fell in love with a women who wasn’t Irene, and they had a child. Unfortunately, Esmund would never get to witness his child grow..

When Garroth was young he’d had visions. They were usually nothing, or so he thought. But on occasion, he’d see a plate slip off the table and shatter moments before it happened. He’d see a thief run through towns 10 minutes before needing to duck out of the way.

He usually ignored them, figuring there was probably some way to have known that was going to happen.

Then it happened.

Garroth saw his brother die. He watched as a dagger was driven into his back by an unknown assailant. Then he lay still on one of their mother’s rose bushes.

Garroth rushed to their mother’s garden as fast as his legs would take him, praying to anyone, everyone that he was wrong.

But there was Vylad. Limp and bloody, cradled in his sobbing mother’s arms.

The visions stopped after that.

They stopped until he saw Vylad again. Until the Island. Until Garroth began to learn more about Irene.

About Esmund..