#or by people who seemingly like them but believe i'm seeking attention >.<

[light-lanterne]

You know, your "dark Byler" ideas aren't too bad but it's incredibly cringeworthy that you're only doing them now that it's become popular 😒

since when are "dark byler ideas" popular ? x.x everyone i know who embraces dark topics and creates gory or disturbing artwork / stories is either completely ignored by the fandom at large, or gets constantly harassed and bullied by anons who refuse to mute words or simply scroll past things they don't like 🙃

(also, i've been on my dark agenda since february, and cannibyler since june, dear anon. that's almost as long as i've been a proper member of the fandom >.< )

[ijwrsmff]

Hey, i hope ur having a good dayy...heard yu wanted some yandere arcane asks...how about vi(romantic) with a naïve piltover darling (generally soft and clumsy as well) fem reader please!!💖💕

Thank you so much that's so sweet!!! I'm getting to requests really late, but I'm doing my best XD thank you for requesting and your patience! Even though it's really late, I hope you enjoy ^^

Soooo glad the second season is coming out soon, I crave it so bad XD

Words: 1,642

Vi was in Piltover, doing what she joked was a small heist. It was just her this time, Vander having cracked down on them all not returning to top side in fear of their safety. She made sure Powder was safe first, and left her in the boy’s care. She had received word there was an event going on, a series of stalls and shops along the road. It was the perfect opportunity to blend in and steal from all the rich assholes who could buy out the whole street if they wanted to. 

…That was her plan anyway. 

It started off simple enough, showing up right in the middle of the day when it was the most busy. She paid close attention to the people who looked like they had more money than others…and with how idiotic people could be, it wasn’t hard to tell who could afford the most. Starting off, she took small items they had purchased that she thought could go for more underground. She didn’t expect to be bumped into as a girl fell to the ground. 

As it were, you only wanted to go to see what the shops had to offer. You weren’t paying much attention though, and bumped into something…or someone. Both you and the person fell to the ground, and you looked up at her from the ground as you whined and rubbed the spot on your leg you just knew would be bruised later. She was laying next to you, and you caught sight of her snarl. You jumped up looking her over. 

“Crud! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you! Did I damage anything you’d bought? I can’t believe I did that again! Gah!” You whined and looked at her as if seeking forgiveness. She looked baffled, and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I can pay for anything I broke! Here, let me buy you something, too!” You took her hand, and she accepted it. You couldn’t tell what expression was on her face, but you were terrified you’d made a bad impression on this woman. 

“Uh…you don’t have to. I have what I need.” Vi spoke, and she seemed guarded. It was almost as if she thought you were tricking her, not believing you were really being this nice to a stranger. “You hurt, cupcake?” She said, seemingly coming to a conclusion in her mind. She brushed off your shoulders, touch lingering only briefly. Her touch was rough, but it didn’t seem to phase you. 

“I’m not hurt! Not any more hurt than I usually am when I fall anyway…” You mumbled the last bit, and shook your head. “And it’s okay! I insist, it’s the least I could do!” Your smile was wide and bright, and somehow contagious. As soon as you locked eyes with her, she smiled back at you, though her smile was much more akin to a smirk. 

She leaned forward so your faces were near each other, and her eyes glazed over yours and she continued to smirk as she pulled back. “If you really insist, I have something in mind.” Her original mission had subsided in her mind, and it seemed she had a new plan she wanted to see through. She was still being cautious, but she would play along for now. This could prove to be entertaining, afterall. 

You yapped away, Vi barely getting any words in since giving you her name. She didn’t seem to mind though, and listened closely to everything you had to say. It didn’t take long to learn all about you, considering the fact that you told her basically all the important information. It was fun! You got to tell her all about your job, your close group of friends, and your favorite hobbies and pastimes. Vi even asked questions to learn more, despite you not picking up on her prodding more into your personal life. 

She had tried to justify it as gathering intel for her next trip with Powder and the boys, but she was growing more intrigued by the second. Though as you reached the stall she had escorted you to, you looked at her. “Oh! A flower stall! Are you getting flowers for someone? That’s so thoughtful!” You giggled, and looked at the wide array of different flowers local to your home and even exported from further off. 

Vi smirked, before putting on a small act. She sighed deeply, and looked deep in thought. “I’d love to get her flowers, but I’m not sure what kind she likes. There’s too many to choose from, it’s overwhelming…what kind do you like?” She looked over to you, eyes full of mischief. She only smiled wider when it seemed like you didn’t gather the implications. 

“I think these one’s here are the prettiest, and the bouquet has a good variety of flowers! So no matter the room, you can probably make the flowers suit it perfectly!” You thought carefully about your answer, wanting to make sure she could get the best possible ones for the girl she wanted to get them for. It was no trouble, you did bump into her, so it only seemed fitting to help out however you could. 

“I see…” She said, and picked up the bouquet you chose. “I hope she’ll like these.” As she said it in a thoughtful but playful tone, before handing them to you. “So, do you like them?” Her hand was outstretched, and you looked at the flowers in confusion. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and tried to wait to see if you’d understand. 

“THEY’RE FOR ME?!” You said, way louder than you meant to. It brought a light blush to your cheeks and you pouted at her. “But I’m the one that bumped into you! I should be getting you a gift!” You looked around the booth, and quickly picked up a bouquet of flowers you thought would suit her. Paying quickly, you copied her motion of giving her the flowers. 

“These are for you then! They have colors that remind me of you and your hair, so I guess it’s…a trade?” You thought carefully, trying to decide if you’d be satisfied with a trade rather than providing something to her from your stumble into her. The flowers weren’t very expensive, so it didn’t really seem fair. 

“How sweet of you…” Vi said, a glimmer of something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. “I’ll happily accept these flowers from you, cupcake.” She gave a wink, but by now she knew you wouldn’t understand the undertones of her words and meaning. She’d have to be more direct to get through to you. Stepping up her game seemed in order, but not just yet. 

“Let me at least buy you something else!” You pleaded, wide eyes as you looked around the stalls to find something else you could give her for her troubles. But Vi looked to the sky, cursing under her breath. At the noise, you tilted your head and asked, “Is something wrong?” You sounded worried, and it only made her heart swell further. 

“My sister is waiting for me at home, I have to go.” She seemed reluctant to say it, but started walking away with a glance to you over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll meet again.” To you, the words were reassuring…whereas most people would have seen it as ominous. You barely knew her, but you welcomed her regardless. There’s no way in hell this would be the last time she saw you. 

“But! I have to buy you something else!” You called, jogging the few steps to catch up with her. She had the flowers you had bought her in her arms, and the other items she’d “bought” within her carry pack. She stopped as you approached, you putting a hand on her shoulder. 

She hummed, turning to look fully at you before smirking with a dark glint in her eyes. “Then…” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before playfully breathing into your ear, “We’ll make it a date. Next time, you can take me out on the condition I get to take you out after.” She pulled back, and could have burst out laughing from the shocked look on your face as you blushed. 

It only made you smile wide, “Okay! It’s a promise then! Do I get to pick what we do for our date?” You hopped once in place and waited eagerly for her response.

“Of course, cupcake. Anything you wanna do.” With her final words, she turned, as you lost her in the crowd of people. It only then occurred to you that she had no way of knowing where you lived. What if she got lost and never saw you again? Or even worse, what if you never saw her again? It had crushed your spirit a little, and your eyes cast down as you pouted, walking back to your house. 

Though from the shadows, Vi loomed. She watched you walk all the way home, making note of any recognizable locations and landmarks so she would remember exactly how to get to you. You were a new form of intoxication she’d never experienced. You were pure, innocent. You didn’t pick up on her flirting until she made sure you did, and you never once questioned her attire or why you’d never seen her before. It made her let out a chuckle, as she watched you, almost hungrily. 

You’d see her again, sooner than you’d think…and she’d make sure you could never forget her. She knew it was just a matter of time before she corrupted that innocence of yours, making you hers in any way she wanted…any way she desired. 

You should have run when you had the chance, cupcake. 

[kunikame]

the moon and her stars. - lyney

warnings : lyney has zero rizz (clickbait), i made astral references again im not sorry guys, not quite love at first sight but more the steps made towards it, gender neutral, fluff

w/c : 940

the saying "eyes are the window to one's soul" is, in lyneys humble opinion, about as true as it can get.

he would know.

while he performs his magic tricks, while he takes a stroll down the streets of fontaine– whatever leisurely activity you choose, he does it while staring people directly in the eyes.

of course he doesn't stare at one person the whole time, his own lavender gaze flies from one person to another sporadically, yet he never fails to discern the emotions hidden behind them.

are they happy? sad? having a good day? a bad one, perhaps? tired? surprised? excited?

he knows.

he watches childrens eyes light up with joy when he pulls their card out of his hat– he observes the couple arguing a few steps away, notices when the brunette's eyes shift from pure sadness to betrayal.

he sees.

which is why he also notices when someone lacks these qualities. if there is no joy, there is no shine– no life behind a person's eyes.

he wonders why your eyes seem so empty when your smile feels genuine.

perhaps you're like him, hiding burdens you desperately wish would forever stay locked up, yet you yearn for a companion to share your pain.

he has his siblings, but who do you have?

lyney approaches you one time (be it out of sheer fascination or simply seeking a change of pace, he's not quite sure) after an impromptu show he put on for some kids in the middle of the street with a singular white rose in his possession.

"hello there, you seem to be not quite enjoying the show tonight. may the great magician lyney be of any service, perhaps?"

he removes his hat with a flourish and bows, holding out the rose as an offering to you.

you lift your gaze from the book you were reading, surprised he took notice of your presence. upon noticing the rose a pleased hum escapes you, and lyney notices a fragment of what one might call 'entertainment' behind your gaze.

"did you know white roses symbolize young love and eternal loyalty, sir lyney? was your approach made with such intentions to be conveyed on this starry night?"

your tone is teasing and amused, and he is well aware of it, but whatever mirth you might be feeling doesn't quite reach your eyes, and so with a snap of his fingers and an elegant shake of the rose, he produces 8 more of them in an unarranged bouquet he hopes you will accept.

"not quite, i'm afraid. i was more so referring  to the symbolization of new beginnings, but if you so prefer i would not at all mind changing the meaning. or the color, if you wish," he says, brushing his hand over the roses, which have now turned a darker orange.

"'fascination', i see," you hum, "interesting choice. is there a reason for it?" you have now discarded your book entirely, giving the blond all your attention, as if hanging onto each word he says, yet seemingly not quite caring about any of them either. it confused lyney, but it fascinated him even more.

"are you aware of what people say about eyes?" you nod, inclining your head slightly, curiosity piqued, "they are the window to the soul. i've found that claim to be truthful until the day i first met eyes with you."

"is this your attempt at wooing me, sir lyney? i regret having to inform you it's not quite working."

"not yet, no. i simply wished to compliment you. your eyes are one of, if not the most beautiful i've ever seen. but, if i may be so bold as to ask, why must you suppress your emotions from being seen in them?"

your eyes flicker away momentarily and lyney pauses. perhaps he might lose this battle tonight.

"i do not wish for them to be perceived by none other than myself. i believe it's better– nobody can use my emotions against me this way."

"why would anyone do such a thing?"

your eyes meet his then, and the world stops. everyone around him disappears and suddenly it's just you and him in this bubble universe you've created– or perhaps you haven't created it, it was simply made for you. you are the center of it and lyney has to fight to find his place (he chooses the one that's closest to the sun– to you). may he crash and burn if he has to, if the universe decides he's meant to, he simply wishes to be as close as you let him. 

if the eyes are the window to the soul– or to put it differently– to the heart, then lyney is certain what you see in his is the adoration he holds for you. even though he doesn't quite know you yet, you fascinate him to no end and he will not stop at the ends of the universe– he will go further and further, as far as his legs carry him, to know everything about you.

he has come to agreement with these feelings of his, they are the reason he chose to approach you in the first place.

he is, however, rendered speechless when your eyes suddenly seem filled with an affection and longing he can't say he's been looked at with before.

"you tell me, sir lyney. would you do such a thing?"

you smile at him then and may the god of justice strike him down where he stands lest his words are lies, but you put the moon and all her stars to shame.

"to you? never."

ੈ✩₊˚TAGLIST : @sscarchiyo @arkangelee @chrronoir @sleepypengwin @yakshalea @kazemiya @menhwa-pdf @mikctp @gabirii @solxima // ask/comment to be added/removed! (if you're in bold i can't tag you)

[cecilxa]

quand tu es avec moi

summary: cyno's experienced so much, but you're the one he'll never regret

contents: fluff, possible ooc, character-centric, gn!reader, cyno being soft

cw: none i can think of, tell me if you find any!

recommend listening to: je te lasserai des mots by patrick watson

a/n: surprise i'm back! french translates to: 'when you're with me'

Cyno yearns for a certain type of love. A love that runs so deep, flowing through the crevices of his heart; a love that softens his stares, and hardens his resolve. Cyno wants a love that takes his calloused hands in theirs, and proclaims they will stay with him as long as the stars shine above; as long as his morality never wavers; as long as he will never stop chasing this love he craves. Cyno’s never been one to indulge in such pleasures; never been one to stop and smell the roses, if given the chance. Yet- when he sees your smile- he’s reminded of dainty elegance, tenderly accompanied by a pleasant floral fragrance. He yearns for a certain type of love- a love that only you can give. 

It’s the way he would do anything for you. Cyno’s a man of his own word, so what would make you think he wouldn’t? It’s a rare sight to see the General Mahamatra strolling through the Grand Bazaar so casually, but when you’re lying in bed with a cold, his eyes mingled with concern. Only the best medicine will do. And when he arrives next to you, sitting by your side, you’ll protest that he’ll get sick, and he’ll tell you a joke. It’s not going to be an extremely funny one, but you’re going to smile, and he thinks that’s all that matters. 

Pearlescent sands, shimmering galaxies full of stars, fine threads on a purple headdress. You cannot count the quantity of such large amounts; you cannot begin to imagine how Cyno counts the times he gets lost in your eyes. Over and over again, patrolling the desert, idly browsing through a new set of TCG cards, he likes to think about you. Caresses of the gentlest touch, alike a feather’s soft brush against your cheek. Lingering stares, like a wolf’s piercing gaze. And with each single thought- Cyno can hear your voice in his ears- an infestation he has no desire to purge, and he knows his heart beats full. 

Because even though he’s only known you for a few years in his- albeit, relatively short- lifetime, it feels as if he’s known you for longer. He may not believe in past lives, but if they did exist, Cyno’s sure that he’d search for you in every single one. And if he happened to never find you, he’d keep on searching; uncovering every rock, crossing every ocean, just seeking for your company. Because what kind of soldier would he be without the light that guides his way?

Between close confidants, closer friends, and closest allies, it’s no secret that he often makes jokes when he truly trusts you. As bad as they may be, eliciting several sighs and grimaces, they lighten the stoic atmosphere he brings with his forthcoming personality. He likes them, too, and who is anyone to dare say that they do not bring people closer together? Because you’ve known him, and Tighnari knows him, and Collei knows him, and he’s cracked pun after pun, and you’ve never gotten tired of him. Moreso, unbeknownst to you, every time he makes one, a pair eyes seemingly glance in your direction- just for a few seconds- and when they’ve ascertained there’s a gleam of amusement shining under yours, he reclines back with a satisfied smile. 

Cyno likes to be near you. Your presence- it’s something that makes his heart run faster and cheeks burn up. He likes being able to sit next to you, and talk about his new TCG deck while you nod and hum attentively, not noticing how he’s staring at you so unabashedly, explaining the intricate details of his commissioned art. He likes being able to sit next to you as you both recount the memories you’ve shared, all from a simple dinner to an exhilarating chase. He likes losing track of time with you, as the sun dips down over the horizon, and the moon comes out of its slumber. 

Most of all, he likes you. No. ‘Like’ carries feelings that are too shallow. Love would be a better descriptor. Unfaltering, unashamedly, bravely, hopelessly in love. Cyno’s set of scales is as ever-present as you seem to be in his head; he dares to gaze up at the desert night sky and let his heart guide his way, uninterrupted by the incessant hustle and bustle of the city. He can feel you by his side, feels your hand held firmly in his, staring up at the same glimmering stars.

It’s time to go back home. 

a/n: after the windblume event quest, my mind's been so full of cyno recently and i love that we get to see a new side to him that we didn't in the archon and story quest <3 likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 🫶

[morgana-ren]

Hi i had an idea that popped into my head, because I (vaguley) remember that the game talks about a sacrifice in the forest lake someone did (me thinks its the church who sac'd someone) and they may have became the ivory wraith.

So you think the town is cursed, maybe something that amplifies lust or 'sins' because of it?

Oh, something is definitely wrong with the town. Something dastardly and dark happened and is currently happening, though I'm not sure of the extent that the lore goes into it.

The Ivory Wraith actually has a very interesting backstory, if you manage to get them to show you.

To make it quick, it seems like they were some kind of priest or priestess for an early facet of the Faith in ancient times, and they along with others of their ward were kidnapped by some dark, esoteric order and sacrificed in some blasphemous ritual involving monsters and tentacles and some heinous offences to God or whatever.

I don't know if their spirit was corrupted or perhaps consumed by some eldritch lord, but either way, the Ivory Wraith is trapped beneath the ruins of the lake, able to wander the town, seemingly only caring for two things: Its own rare offspring, which it can impregnate the player with, and the lovely ivory necklace that dangles gracefully from its pale neck.

Now lets take a look at the faith.

On the outside, it seems relatively benign, seemingly modeled after modern day Catholicism. Strict and unforgiving, to be sure, but basically just a mirrored image of what we know the more stern sects of Christianity to be.

But take a deeper look. The prayer room, where devout priests are known to go into fits of hysterics and speak in tongues, hallucinating for hours on end as the prayer becomes so intense and somehow, virginity stays intact even after the most defiling of carnal acts. The dark ritual that can take place to an unsuspecting and unconscious player should they pass out at the lake. The fact even the priests and nuns aren't immune to your charms, and will often try to have their way with you against your will and you are expected to be fine with it.

The fact that the church will whore you out against your will if your purity is weighed and found wanting during your chastity exam.

These are the good guys.

Now the town itself, something is very, very blatantly wrong.

On the outside, it's a seemingly normal little town. A little costal paradise that is surprisingly self-sufficient for a small-town community. A lovely little haven cut off from the rest of the world--

For a reason.

It's meta-implied that this town is wrong, and it knows that it's wrong. The people in charge make an active effort to keep their affairs secret from the outside world. There's this lovely facade of a normal society, but the rotting, seedy underbelly is the world's worst kept secret.

If you tell any outsiders what is happening, they don't believe you. It sounds so absurd and so outlandish that they just outright think you're a mentally unwell, attention seeking person. The 'innocence' and 'awareness' bar allude to the fact that people who don't indulge themselves in the darker parts of life in the town are purposefully kept in the dark, so much so that it just flies right over their heads, or they just accept what is happening as normal.

Sirris, for example. They very much love their child. Do you think they would ever raise their child here if they had any true idea of how bad things are here? Chances are that they think this is just life, or they're so kept in the dark about the truth of it that they don't understand what they're subjecting Syndey to.

The people who are unofficially in charge of the town, such as Remy, Quinn, Bailey, and to an extent, Leighton, all have a direct hand in the worst aspects of it. The underground brothel, the underground farm, the asylum, etc.

Every person that heads one of these awful facilities also just so happens to be the only person in charge of such affairs. Harper and the hospital, Remy and his farm, Leighton and his school, Bailey and his orphanage, and so on.

There's a titload of supernatural references here that certainly come into play. The moors, Blackwolf, all the hallucinogens that run rampant, the tentacles, the blood moon-- it all fits together somehow.

We don't have all the pieces quite yet, and your character is gaslit and made to feel crazy if they start to put them together.

Something very, very wrong is happening, and it all fits hand in hand somehow.

[florafaunatic]

What's so cool about the way UT aus evolved

For many years I would draw and sketch and stuff. Not all of it was spectacular, but it wasn't bad. Yet, at some point or another I would end up ripping the drawing up or throwing it away. It was never out of malicious intent. I just did it. I don't know why either; it wasn't like I disliked the drawings.

So, I discovered the insanely large and depth-y fandom of Undertale. Pretty soon, I started reading about the star sanses and bad sanses. I put a lot of effort into figuring out the canon (fanon since none of it was canon???) truths about the characters and what was fanon (like what Blue's deal actually was). As I was reading comics I came across a alternate multiverse where Error was a chaotic child and Ink was a tired dad. In the comic (I wish I could remember what it was called so I can credit the artist) Error makes friends with these shadow creatures. They lead him to help destroy an au that the artist seemingly wanted gone. Ink later finds/kidnaps him and brings him home. Ink explains that many creators, for whatever reason, want to destroy their work. But in the long run, it's not what they want. He says that everything, no matter how "bad" it is deserves to exist. Just so someone knows it's there. Even if it isn't shared with the world, that doesn't matter.

After reading that comic I thought about Ink. He's a soulless creature seeking to feel things by feeding off the beautiful work creators and him make. I think, perhaps unintentionally perhaps intentionally, Ink is a metaphor for artists and creators (the non-canon kind). We seek validation or happiness or even any emotion from the things we and others create. We could be having trouble with finding our own emotions outside of the internet. It's okay to need to escape our lives for a little bit. It's not a bad thing if you have an idea to share at all. Helping others feel better is good too. But just like Ink we have to be careful not to let it consume our lives. We can't let fandoms be the only way we can feel. We have to generate emotion in other areas of our lives as well. We have to make sure our community isn't only online. We have to make sure that what we say online is safe, and that we are not unintentionally exposing ourselves to dangerous people.

Next, I addressed Error. He too, can be a metaphor. He reflects the opposite side of the spectrum. He is has been so hurt in the past, even if he doesn't understand how, that he feels the need to hurt others. He could be compared to a hater, but I don't like that term. Hurt people hurt people, and while that doesn't make internet hate okay or justified by any means, it can offer and explanation. People who say mean things about art (actually mean and baseless things, not voicing an opinion) are probably seeking attention. The want to fight with you because the consequences don't seem real. You have no idea what's going on in their lives, just like they don't know you. When they seek that attention, don't give it. Walk away in the metaphorical internet sense. If you need to, block them. But don't fight hate with hate. It never works. We have to love the people who hurt us or it's no use in saying we aren't like them. If you remember saying something mean on the internet, I'm sorry for you. Even if you don't believe it, there are people who love you. So, so many people.

Neither of these characters were created for this purpose. They weren't even meant to go together. But still they make a beautiful world for everyone to enjoy. So whether you are an artist or a reader, an Error or an Ink, whether you are like me or not, we built this sorta by accident, so let's appreciate how cool it is.

[truly-morgan]

[What if they met before Mo manor?]

ZhuiXuanyu | Mo Dao Zu Shi 11-07-2021

[#Lansizhui X #moxuanyu (zhuixuanyu?) thank @/misslotor  for the idea  aksjd] (cw: ~6y agegap)

What if Lan Sizhui and Mo Xuanyu had met way before the Mo manor incident?

Sometimes when mxy was still a disciple of the jin sect, they met by accident in lanling.

The lan disciples are over for a friendly competition between them and the llj. The first day of competition is over and the juniors are given permission to visit lanling as long as they are back before eight to Koi Tower.

They are walking around aimlessly, ljy wanting to try some food here and there so they stop every now and then.

When at a corner lsz notice something happening: Some jin disciples are ganging up to beat someone up. He simply cannot stay standing there and do nothing right? Not when the one being beaten up doesn't seem to be able to fight back and look like the shy young man he crossed paths with earlier that day.

So he decides to go help him, chasing away the bullies with ljy on his toes. They seemingly want him to piss off, but he won't let it go and ljy ends up threatening to call for hanguang-jun. This seems enough to finally make them leave.

lsz crouch down to be on the same level as mxy, pushing back some strand of hair to reveal the pretty face who was now bloodied. lsz tries to calm and reassure the young man, surprised when he felt him suddenly hide behind him while hugging him, still crying.

he looks at ljy a bit unsure what to do as mxy thanks him many time, before gently patting the young man's back, telling him it's alright now they are gone. He even suggest helping him go back to Koi Tower to get his injuries checked.

It takes a little moment before the young man accepts, letting lsz lift him up with no problem. "Does your legs hurt? Can you walk?" he ask while helping him stand straight.

"My ankle does hurt a bit" mxy shyly admits.

He manages to convince mxy to get on his back ("But I'm taller!") and carries him without any problems back to koi tower.

lsz stays with him while the healers does their job, trying to befriend mxy, talking about the competition that happens that day.

After that event lsz ends up befriending mxy over the time of the competition, rather enjoying the older cultivator.

And after that, anytime lsz happens to be in llj he tries to visit mxy. So does mxy when he goes to gl.

It doesn't take long before mxy takes a liking to lsz, following him around like a puppy anytime they are together, seeking his gentleness and his affection. Slowly lsz starts to see mxy as a close friend of his too, helping him out when other try to attack him for his out-of-ordinary habits or when they make judgements about him. Even ljy seems to rather enjoy mxy presence with them.

Everything goes rather well, mxy obsession with jgy seems to die down as he instead put more attention on lsz, leaving behind any attempt at getting close to jgy. He still respects greatly his half-brother.

It doesn't stop people from remembering and believing what they want.

three years went by where they grew closer and closer to each other, lsz also slowly grew feelings for mxy, never telling him since he didn't believe mxy felt the same. He was just a good friend after all. Then mxy was kicked out of the llj sect because of "harassment towards jgy".

of course, lsz knew of the rumours, but mxy always told him he only respected jgy as a brother. he managed to meet mxy when he went to mo manor after the incident, rather worried of his lack of news about mxy (and having heard tell tale of how the mo family treated him).

mxy was sure lsz would also believe what others said, that he somehow "went too far with jgy". he never did such thing, he was in love with lsz!!

lsz had to calm to an anxious mxy who wouldn't listen when he was saying he wasn't one to believe rumours said about others (it was probably one of the gusu lan rules actually).

Once mxy was calmed down, they stay where they were, laying under a tree as they watch the clouds in the sky. "I do not love a-yao this way" mxy repeated again, lsz ready to reassure him again, "Because I love a-yuan".

Lsz is taken aback, unsure he really got it right, but they were clearly talking about mxy none existent romantic interest in jgy.

He is just surprised, since he thought mxy simply like him as a close friend and was rather affectionate with him for that reason. But after the surprise passes he is really happy.

He gently grabs mxy hands as he props himself on his elbow, towering a bit over the young man who was getting nervous at the lack of answer. "A-yu loves me?" he asked again, trying to make sure he had really heard it right.

mxy quickly nodded, looking up at lsz from where he was still laying on the grass. "a-yu really loves a-Yuan". mxy finally relaxed when he saw lsz smile growing bigger, looking really happy. "D-does a-yuan loves me too?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yes!" lsz replied quickly, leaning a bit more over mxy, holding his hand a bit stronger.

the look on mxy was worth everything, looking over the moon that lsz also love him. lsz yelped a bit when he was pulled a bit closer to the young man, being held in a tight hug as mxy giggled happily, making him smile as he hug him back.

"Can I kiss A-yuan?" mxy asked. lsz simply nodded, trying to get closer to kiss him back. afterwards, they grew their new relationship in secret, lsz only confiding in ljy.

He wanted to help mxy too, since he could see how badly the mo family would treat him. He eventually had to tell lwj, asking if it was possible for mxy to be taken in as a guest disciple. It took a bit of convincing, but mxy eventually could stand at his side in white robes.

It was to stay temporarily as a guest disciple, then mxy stay a bit longer as a guest of lsz. at some point, their relationship was known from lxc and lqr. both young man were nervous as they were facing lxc and lqr, wondering what would happen.

relief took over them quickly when mxy was granted to stay with him too, as long as he respected the rules. they lived happily after this. mxy doing his best to respect all the rules, while everyone else was getting used to lsz spouse being a bit... out of the ordinary by lan standards.

but lsz accepted all of mxy weird quirks, marking him simply more lovable (it was also fun being the one to make mxy makeup).

I know, this fucks up all of canon, but hey, we can always find another way, am sure nhs would find another poor desperate soul ready to help him.

also, the juniors quartet who forms still, just that this time it is because mxy is called back to the llj sect to get over what (didn't) happen before, lsz follows to make sure he is alright.

mxy deserves all the love and all the friends okay am sure he would get along well with oyz for some reasons

Original

[trashlie]

Hello, I'm the anon from earlier. I'm not a business person by any means either, but I guess I was thrown off by the fact that a seemingly family-owned corporation like Hirahara Corp apparently had an outsider as CEO? Rand inheriting instead of Yui makes sense since there were no male heirs and this is probably a patriarchal set-up; but why didn't Koutaro, or any other Hirahara, become CEO rather than Young-chul?

I 100% think the partnership with the Kims continuing even after the past SA allegations is a "sleazy business world" thing. I doubt shareholders have any problems with it so long as it generates profit. Most likely the allegations didn't amount to anything, which is unfortunately realistic.

I can't WAIT for Yujing's article, it will no doubt send shockwaves throughout the system even if it doesn't manage to topple it just yet.

Oh absolutely, SAME! I've always felt that Yui herself resents that the company is passing down not through her, but technically through Rand, that his illegitimate child could possibly even stand an opportunity simply by being Rand's son (and thus why she has torn him down at every opportunity, so he never gets the chance to ever catch attention). Part of her whole deal with having Kousuke fast-track his way to CEO seems to be to bring the company fully back into the hands of the Hiraharas, so yes, I was DEFINITELY taken aback that someone OTHER than a Hirahara could have been a CEO.

Like... right. For what reason did it work out that way, that not even Koutarao was CEO? And if Yui doesn't want Hirahara falling into the hands of anyone else, it feels like a Choice to partner with them - although I guess it's because a partnership doesn't hold as much power?

A really half-baked thought I haven't been able to work through prior is that maybe Yui is playing some kind of long game - that by partnering with the Kims they could somehow let them fall back on their own sword (when you think about it, the Kims and Hiraharas are really poised to bring each other down, right?) but.... that seems messy and why would she do that? Then again... she likes a good hunt and chase. Tangentially a theory I have that goes dark is, perhaps, a member of the Kim family may have assaulted Yui when she was younger, but that's a topic for another post (I keep meaning to work on) but it loops back to "why would Yui partner with someone if she loathes them"? What does she seek to gain from that? She tends to see a few steps ahead of anyone else, so if she had had a plan, I wouldn't be shocked. After all.... wouldn't it be so easy to spin the story as "sob sob as it turns out, Gun Kim pressured us to make poor Nol take the fall for Sangchul; he was going around trying to drug girls at the Kim formal but he forced us to stay quiet~ you know how that family is~" which is, honestly, scary, but is it beyond the realm of the things Yui does? If anything, it feels like child's play, right?

On the one hand I'm like that's so convoluted, Yui would never, but only the other hand, this woman gets off on peoples' misery and loves to torture, so if she went through a long con to get back at the man/family who possibly did something to her when she was younger, if she played nice with them with the eventual intention to castigate them? Making them business partners gives enough reason to believe that they could "coerce" Yui and co to do anything, by trying to use the "lesser" of the Hirahara boys (barf) to take the fall. And how easy would it be to actually trace the drugs back to Yui? Oh, the accused perp is claiming she gave them to him? When there's a whole history of this happening at his school, in his family? When you look at Gun Kim and his rep? What other allegations have come from those Kim formals that never went anywhere? She could SO easily twist any of that!

But idk lmao it feels almost cartoon villain and I'm probably grasping at straws, but I let the thought live at the back of my mind, to see if it will grow into anything else and to see if we get anything else to change how I feel. Something definitely happened in Yui's past, of that I'm certain, but everything else is very loose conjecture.

But whether that has to do with the Kim Hirahara family history we're yet to see. There's so many questions I have and I really hope everything will be answered LMAOOOOO I also look forward to Yujing's expose, but ever since reading the theory that she's working on two separate pieces, I can't help but feel the real bomb will drop in s2. But even seeing what she's writing for Nol's case sounds promising, because it feels like the prelude of the much bigger piece, right?

GOD I get really excited just thinking of it, even though I feel like learning the eventual truth is gonna make me feel real nauseous. The seediness of the Kims and Hiraharas runs deep and twisted and UUGGGHHH. The angle of "the less fortunate" taking the fall for the affluent, privileged elite is suuuuch a good angle to work and I can't WAIT to see the ripples of it!!!!!

[reginrokkr]

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈. Dying hope vs imperishable hope.

One of the things that caught my attention of everything that surrounds mainly René and Jakob is that, while their intentions seem to be positive as they also look forward to build a safe world for their cherished ones besides humanity, is that instead of using their strength to prevent the world from going in the direction of the prophecy they've seen of what Teyvat will look like in centuries into the future, they're spending their strength to achieve survival in this post-apocalyptic world. Which implies that they either didn't come up with a solution to save Teyvat now or they're believing blindly that said fate will happen no matter what.

Concurrently there is Dain who is also fighting to safeguard Teyvat and the people within it by actively opposing the Abyss Order (who most likely will have a great role in what the world looks like in the prophecy René and Jakob know) as himself to potentially mend what he couldn't do in the past to save Khaenri'ah and so that no more people will suffer what Khaenri'ahns did (those who didn't fall into obsessions and just wanted to live their lives far from the gods' gaze) and so that the people of Teyvat not suffer again another cataclysmic-like event and the Abyss Order's delusions, as they seek to plunge everything in darkness with little regard of the others, seen in a negative light for choosing to live under the Seven. But also potentially as the Bough Keeper— I've been thinking about more options of what could lead the world into not having water at all to begin with, which constitutes one of the seven elements that run through ley lines as Irminsul's extension and I presume that Irminsul will perish too in that future-to-come. Although there will be surely more elements that work in harmony with Irminsul to ensure the safety of Teyvat (such as the seemingly mandatory cooperation between gods and humans, otherwise they won't be able to survive— not even gods, as the humans' intervention is highly relevant too), it's known that Irminsul sustains the entirety of the world, so it's highly likely that this may be one of the reasons why Teyvat might look that way.

While René and Jakob base their actions in their own investigations, experiments and calculations after an exhaustive research of old civilizations, the Abyss and Khvarena, one would think that their course of action could be the only solution. If fate is absolute and that's Teyvat's fate, then by common sense there is no changing it. However, on the other side we have Dain who is a self-proclaimed pessimist who is working on preventing the world's demise rather than spending his power on ensuring human's survival in the post-apocalyptic Teyvat. It would be interesting to see him facing this, to have what he knows questioned and see what he thinks about it. But I feel like fate will have a strong role in all of this, and who knows if among the Abyss Order's schemes of the Loom of Fate operation they do want to change said fate if they're aware of it (something tells me that they're more rudimentary and driven by negative feelings such as hatred, Jakob criticizes them quite strongly and for a while I've been thinking the exact same: eventually, they won't be doing any better than Celestia does). In the case the Abyss Order did contemplate this outcome (perhaps they saw transcendence in turning into what we know as abyssal creatures and that way they'd survive that post-apocalyptic world too most likely) and either don't care and don't desire to change that fate or they can't, I'm positive that Dain may have that possibility himself seeing that re-weaving all threads of fate depends on him as per Travail.

[fanahrts]

i hope you realize you're exactly like him. Exactly. Like. Him. going through the receipts, suicidal guilt tripping just like a certain someone. "he would purposely give u his attention like a rollercoaster to keep you on" just like a certain shitty ex boyfriend.

Hi. This is a very dead blog, and this is not the previous owner - I am his current boyfriend. This account will go right back to being inactive after I post this.

I have a lot to stay, and I'll try to keep it as brief and concise as I can, but I think it's incredibly telling that you would be willing to compare a mentally ill autistic teenager (teenager at the time, at least) who, at the time, did not know better (and no one bothered to tell him either, everyone kept their mouth shut until it was time to dogpile, it seems!) to someone who manipulated and abused him for months on end - emotionally, psychologically, sexually, and I'd even argue physically (causing someone multiple seizures, accusing them of lying about having them, and then continuing the behavior that caused the seizures could be classified physical abuse, could it not?).

It's also incredibly telling that you'd be willing to take the side of someone you're actively admitting to being an abusive person.

Those two freaks have been actively stalking him for over half a decade at this point. Half. A. Decade. Following him around from platform to fucking platform in order to try to run off any friends or community he has. In the time that I have known him, Barry (or whatever name the freak goes by now) has done this twice.

They want to claim to be victims, but that is not the behavior of victims. Victims do not actively seek out their supposed abuser multiple times over the span of six years to actively antagonize them and the people who associate with them. They generally have a tendency to avoid their abusers at all costs, actually - I would know, I am a victim of abuse myself.

Everyone involved in this situation back in 2017 are now adults. Fucking act like it. The fact that there were anons from one of them on this very blog as recently as October of 2021 is just pathetic. Grow up, go to fucking therapy, get a life, something, please.

This next bit is specifically for Barry - who I assume at some point will be reading this as he's clearly deranged and actively sends anons to a blog that's been dead for years: You are genuinely one of the most vile people I have ever witnessed. And I say witnessed, because I have seen you in action twice now. It's bad enough to abuse someone the way you have, but it's next level evil (and I do not say that lightly) to proceed to obsessively stalk this person for the following 6 years, and try to continue to abuse them. I get angrier thinking about you than I do thinking about the people who have personally caused me severe trauma throughout my lifespan.

You disgust me. Blaming your extremely abusive behavior on a stigmatized disorder and refusing to take any steps to better yourself so you don't hurt those around you and just expecting them to accomodate abusive behavior is not what a victim does. It's what an abuser does. I'd say to get help, but I genuinely believe you are beyond help at this rate. I hope you stay far, far away from other people.

And for Cisco (or whatever name he goes by now) : I am not your biggest fan either, not by a longshot (in fact, I think you are highly abusive as well in your own ways, and enabled Barry) but I'm going to say this, because I think that you need to hear it, incase you are still with him: He is abusing you. Everything I have heard of how he treated you is textbook abuse. And I think you know that to some degree, based on the way you have seemingly sent asks to this blog begging for it's owner to come back years after the fact. I think you knew when sending those anons that you were in a bad situation, and that you wanted someone else to come back and help deal with that abuse as well. That is selfish, and cowardly, but it is a sign to me that you are in over your head. If you are still with him: leave.

Overall, I have witnessed first hand the effects of what you two did to him. I see the uncertainty in relationships, the flashbacks, the PTSD and OCD, the nightmares, the self-doubt, the alters who split in order to merely hold the trauma that was caused, the paranoia and fear, etc. I see it all first hand. You are not the victims here, and I think you fucking know that - unless you are actually completely delusional. Barry, I know you are stalking my twitter account - or were, at some point, that is - because I know that is how you found him the last time. You are completely fucking deranged and either need serious help or to not be in any interpersonal relationships with anyone.

Go ahead, call me a p3do apologist or whatever it was you called people who stuck by him in the past. You two wouldn't know p3dophilia if it struck you in the god damn face, it seems, considering you are grown adults spreading around a callout from over half a decade ago that contains screenshots of a then-17 year old talking sexually about himself. I don't know, maybe it's just me but that seems awfully similar to distribution of CP, hm?

I'm pleased to say that neither of you can access him, or hurt him anymore. And your last couple attempts to get the people he cares about to leave him failed. Miserably. He has me, and he has friends who have stuck by him and will stick by him. I hope that fact bothers you, you fucking miserable, pathetic freak. Go fuck yourself.

[horizon-verizon]

I've seen people say that if Daemon didn't cheat on Rhaenyra, with Nettles or more specifically Mysaria, and he didn't kill Laenor or Harwin, that made him a character without nuance, white and not grey, worthy of a character from Young adult... Suffice to say, this kind of bullshit makes me want to scratch my eyes out. It's very clear that Harwin was probably killed by Larys/the Greens. The author offers a version where he did not kill Laenor, which I find most likely. The author proposes that he did not sleep with Nettles. (Seriously. No official proof of this seemingly certain act, and the only source that supports a platonic relationship is also the only one that has been a direct witness? Sorry for paying my attention to it instead of the other stupid and unsubstantiated sources) The narration is dubious as to the renewed story with Mysaria. (Seriously, I used to believe it, but after re-reading the text several times, this case seems more and more dubious) Daemon has done other wrongful things in his life. Taking away these four uncertain things does not make him a character without nuance, worthy of a young adult. Already, a Young Adult can be VERY GOOD or even EXCELLENT! So I do not tolerate this lack of respect towards this category of literature. Then, if for them, cheating on your spouse is a way to make a personange complex, they must seek treatment. The monster part about Daemon is about people outside of his family. Not those who are part of it. Even less Rhaenyra. Comments like this piss me off.

A)

Cheating is bad, but it hardly makes a person evil. Cheating is not really terrible until we look at the motivations, circumstances and consequences of it, which varies from time-period-to-time period, culture-to-culture, couple-to-couple. This is a note on cheating in general.

Cheating in the case of Daemon and his relationship with Rhaenyra -- since cheating by itself is not an evil equal to murder, selling people out, endangering them, rape, etc. -- I do not think that if he were to cheat, he suddenly would be an evil character.

That being said, if he were to cheat on Rhaenyra, I would be both unsurprised and disappointed, not to be that person.

Daemon has done other wrongful things in his life. Taking away these four uncertain things does not make him a character without nuance, worthy of a young adult. Already, a Young Adult can be VERY GOOD or even EXCELLENT!

I don't know how to address this since I'm unsure what the young adult genre of literature has to do with Daemon and his sexual behaviors, or really how these people are connecting them? And this isn't a young adult series?!

B)

Daemon has been an anti-hero before he ever married Rhaenyra. He doesn't need cheating to be consistently that person, and him sacrificing himself to kill Rhaenyra's enemy over the God Eye and disobeying her final order to him.

These people need to review.

[nightly-sun]

About New Atheism

You can always count on New Atheists to be advocates for tolerance and opponents of extremism, only to attack anyone whose views are the slightest hint more spiritual than theirs regardless of nuance and claim a very smug, zealot-like air of moral and intellectual superiority. If they want to keep their minds and hearts closed to anything outside the material realm, I can’t fault them for that. Some people really are better off without some form of spirituality or even if they’re just not predisposed towards it, but what these trilby-tippers don’t understand is that it isn’t a one size fits all situation. Certainly, it’s wrong of them to outright dismiss others’ personal experiences or accuse them of fraud, delusion, or attention-seeking, because it just goes to show how little they actually know or understand.

Additionally, this particular breed of atheist lends credence to many Christian stereotypes. Remember that fabricated story about the Christian student who humiliated his atheist professor? Or the movie they based on it starring Kevin Sorbo? Yeah, it’s when atheists and anti-theists start embodying the otherwise comically ignorant caricatures pushed by those stories, attacking theists* or even anyone who keeps an open mind, that they add fuel to the fire. It’s bad enough that conservative Christians (and the far-right in general) have such a severe persecution complex, or at worst, project their persecution of others who they would persecute should they reject their attempts at conversion, onto those same others. New Atheists are practically just handing out free ammunition to the religious and spiritual people they so avidly despise, then exposing their bare flesh and begging to be shot by the same extremists who are the reason behind their irrational hatred for anyone who is not an atheist, or who they perceive as not being enough of an atheist.

One thing I will concede is that I have no rebuttal for atheism as a whole. I have no way of knowing or proving if any of the "supernatural" things I've encountered are real or not, and I accept that there might very well be a rational, scientific explanation behind them. I'm not smart enough to fully grasp, let alone explain, exactly how we play such tricks on our own minds, but I'm willing to believe it's possible. I already accept evolution and the Big Bang as facts, even if there's still so much left to piece together. Likewise, I acknowledge all spirits, gods, and entities as — if nothing else — archetypes and energies, extensions of the unconscious with the myths surrounding them being just that: myths. Where once these myths were created to explain the unexplainable in primitive civilizations, they still serve a core function in present-day occultism, which is to give the practitioner something to work with.

Regardless, the New Atheist movement is quickly becoming just as much of an extremist sect in and of itself, even if that was not the intention of, say, Richard Dawkins. Similarly to many Christians who preach fear and post scripture to anyone outside their faith on the Internet in the futile hopes that they'll convert, the average Internet-dwelling New Atheist will mock and ridicule them and tell them their beliefs aren't real, seemingly somehow under the misguided impression that it will convince them to close their eyes and their minds to what they have experienced firsthand. Ironically, you may even encounter these two polar opposites in tandem with each other. No, seriously. Just check out look up occult questions on Quora. And needless to say, there's the occasional Craig Stephen Hicks, whose hatred for believers takes a murderous bend. They may be a rarity compared to other extremists, but they still exist, and that's a problem.

Furthermore, I find the insinuation that spiritually-minded people are somehow complicit in the atrocities committed in the name of religion to be absurd. By that same logic, shouldn't atheists be considered complicit in the Soviet Union's suppression of religion? Don't get me wrong, I think atheists have every right to be angry about the persecution they've faced. Unfortunately, many vocal New Atheists refuse to distinguish between your everyday person with spiritual or religious beliefs and practices, and those who would strap a bomb to their chest and take as many people with them as they can. That sort of absolutist thinking is on par with Christians who justify their antisemitism by blaming the Jews for the death of Christ, or their misogyny because Eve ate the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and prompted Adam to do the same.

People will always do ugly things. It's human nature, and regardless of what ideology humans follow, if any, that's not about to change, and if it would, the change wouldn't be through any amount of harassment or suppression, not in the long run.

*Should mention that I don’t identify as either a theist or as an atheist, but having a mystical framework helps, even if only looked at through an allegorical lens.

[i-wordwizard-i]

Making this my poetry platform. I'm gonna just post a few I already made since I don't have any new ones (yet).

FYI: most of these are made improperly, or maybe they aren't? Poetry is confusing.

Opinionated

To have an opinion feels like a privilege,

I'd wish to be without them,

Privilege or not, they feel crippling,

They cloud rational thoughts,

blind the most observant eyes,

choke out the loudest voices,

And could brew violence,

In this opinionated world everyone is seemingly against each other,

They divide and yet they also form stronger bonds,

Opinions are strange,

Position

To be in a position,

Where you feel like you're in the background.

Like you're unimportant,

Like you're dispensable,

It is a hard way to live,

Feeling as though you get less attention than others.

Less notice,

Less care,

It is crippling.

You know this feeling but you feel as though you cannot seek help,

For you are in the background,

And you don't deserve to seek it,

You know that they won't mind,

But it's a parasite, infecting your reason,

Tearing it down, bit by bit,

Until you feel as though you should be invisible,

To be in a position,

Where you're position does not matter,

What a Shitty Week!

Been a bad week

I mean the week just started and it's already bleek

Sitting on a lopsided seat

Pessimism reeks, doesn't it?

Complaining to complain

Fixing not quick enough

I think this is it

What a shitty week!

Playing solitaire with no cards

Spinning thoughts, all that I hate

Mind running blank

Surrounded by people! Irate!

I believe I've said it, but I'll say it again

What a shitty week!

Avolition

Sinful sloths,

They do nothing,

They know of their inaction,

They'd try to do something,

But are burdened with avolition,

A pit with no ladder,

One could desperately claw at the sides,

But they believe to know that they will fail,

They won't climb,

A Slothful man,

View painted monochrome,

Shrouded in sorrows,

Dragging in a meadow of melancholy men,

Stagnant as less pull them along,

Motivationless,

Motionless,

Less,

Lesser thoughts,

Less than thoughts,

Less than worth thinking,

Devoid of action, of motive,

Doing nothing,

Not moving,

Sin of Sloth,

In a spiral of thoughts,

Procrastination sings,

Avolition weeps,

Depression screams,

all in despondency,

All together,

Pleading for attention,

Begging to be noticed,

Addressed,

Because they will only grow in sound if rejected,

A call for help,

A beneficial cry,

A somber song played for somber times,

Somber people,

No,

Worse,

Hurt people,

Rejected by themselves,

A despondent weed in a field of favorable flowers,

But that weed is in two plains,

Meadow and field,

The favorable field & the melancholy meadow,

The weed dances between both as it starts to bloom,

For a flower with bittersweet nectar tastes better than all,

Most of these are around a year old now, and I'd like to believe I don't align with their views that much, but that's probably not true. Everyone has their dark and emotional "oo I'm so deep" side of themselves, even the most transparent of people. Anyway, to anyone who even sees this (probably no one, this app is pretty dead): don't take my stuff that seriously. I'm but a humble word wizard and just like writing out well put together sentences.

[visd3stele]

Can I request some Criston Cole angst. Maybe she's rhaenyra's older half sister who had targaryen magic(interpret as you will). She and Criston fell in love and she gets pregnant but her powers began to get out of control before she tells him as she finds out about him and rhaenyra and nearly hurt rhaenyra so Viserys banished her. Daemon takes her to Essos to get help with her powers (only one who acknowledges her). Episode 5 angst (Criston pov) Criston x reader happy ending.

hope you like it 🤗

tw: spoilers from ep5, cheating (sort of), vague hints of *aham* bedroom activities (nothing detailed or explicit), reader going mad for a bit there, canon Criston bullshit, child loss, raw pain ( i hope 😁), lmk if there needs to be something else up here

a/n: so... it is kind of his pov, but i have to confess i skipped that part and went straight to writing and i actually really like how it turned out. oops? i'm sorry... maybe i'll write something else from his pov after i finish the requests i got. aaand, i combined this with another ask (X).

masterlist ; requests

Love the way you hurt me

"Princess y/n Targaryen was born a peculiar child," Lady Alicent whispered back to Ser Criston Cole. "No wonder Viserys chose Rhaenyra as heir." She added, sipping from her filled cup, stealing a stealthy glance at you.

You were sitting in a corner at the banquet after the tournament. Speaking to no one, swaying alone on a rhythm only you could hear, watching everyone intently.

"It is said she was born eyes wide open, not even a whimper, much less crying like babes should do."

Ser Cole fixed his inky gaze on you. Curiosity flooded the obscure eyes, deep and warm in their darkness despite the steel surrounding him at all times, as soon as he first laid eyes on you. At the tournament. When princess Rhaenyra, the realm's delight, filled the air around her with joyous interest in the world around, you kept to yourself, seemingly unaware of the happenings taking place around.

He had approached you first, lured in by your unusual beauty. Eyes big and attentive, the e/c in your irises like a haze over what lurked beneath. Face nor cold, nor warm to prying glances of the court, but the one of a goddess of old. Ser Criston has heard about the mistiques of Velarys, how inhuman its inhibitors are. But he never believed – nor understood – until he saw you.

He has asked of your blessing in the fight, like knights are supposed to. You lowered your gaze on him and your statue like demeanor broke for a second, before looking through him. That second was 'nough for Ser Cole, to steal his breath and bind his soul. The veil lift from your eyes and traveled deep within his, piercing his very being.

You didn't grant him his blessing, so he had to seek it from your sister. You spoke no words, nor did you acclaim his win. It only served to pull him more towards your mystery. Which led him to the conversation with Lady Alicent.

"She barely talks. The prince, Daemon is the only one to get to her. Make her react to a human presence. Other than that, she spends her days with the dragons. Or painting in her room. No one is allowed in her chambers, not servants, not even her family."

Lady Alicent leaned closer as the story thickened. "Actually, there was a woman. Y/n responded to her better than she does to Daemon. She was very clingy of this woman as a child, the only one to enter her room. After she died, y/n fasted for a whole year. No food, no water. The maestress do not know how she survived."

Criston's brows were lost in his messy curls. No matter how hard he tried to tame them for the event, his brown locks rebelled again and again. "Who was the woman?"

"A maid." Alicent Hightower shrugged. "Though some people believe she is y/n's real mother, not the late queen."

"The princess is a bastard?"

"So the gossip goes. Excuse me now, Ser Cole, but I hadn't danced at all since I arrived. It won't do," the young woman smiled and hurried away to find a pair on the merry hum of chords.

Ser Criston dunked a cup over his head. 'Twas, indeed, too much to take... at least while sober, that's it. When he turned around, there you stood. Behind him, those empty eyes that seem curios, yet all knowing.

Criston didn't know what happened to him. He considered himself quite the ladies' dream. With a body sculpted by the finest artists, muscles carved sharply by years of practice, with his eyes so dark they catch every light in the room in a soft glow, a dashing smile brighter than his armor and, well, being a knight, Ser Cole met no problems finding lovers.

Though he wasn't a cruel one, as others might think. He never laid with a woman he didn't felt for. And he expected that same passion returned. It caused him lots of heartbreaks in his young life. But it only seemed to make his heart expand, hoping to find that one true love poets sing about.

Now...? Now something differed. His throat dried the second he locked eyes with you. Color rose in his cheeks as he searched the room in a franzy. As if a speech would lie waiting for him on the walls. His heart skipped a beat, only to resume its race faster than it pumped during the tournament.

Before he could compose himself and add thoughts to a currently barren mind, he heard you speak. "We are to dance tonight." You had said. And Ser Cole barely contained a whimpery moan. Your voice sounded like honey tasted in a rainy morning, spread on freshly made bread. Not sweet like the addictive cakes, but not bitter either. Soft, yet powerful. Steady and decisive, so far a cry from the way orders are given. It was a certainty, a simple fact voiced out as one would say the sky is blue and a sword – sharp.

"Pri- princess?" Criston winced as he stumbled dumbfounded over his words. You didn't repeat yourself. Instead raised your arms towards him, palms facing the floor. He noticed dried paint around your nails and he smiled. Such a well put together image, only to show him a bit of chaos no one else would see. A sentiment of pride rose in his chest and Ser Cole loosened a bit, releasing a long exhale of breath. He didn't even notice when his inhales became short and sharp.

He bowed, remembering to bid a hand at his back. Took one of your hands in his own and dropped a kiss on the back of it. Criston shuddered at the warmth of your skin. No healer he was, nor versed in such knowledges, but he could swore your temperature was abnormally high.

Raising his forehead to steal a peek at you, he was stricken by your smile. "Blood of the dragon runs with fire inside the veins." Was it a joke? Criston thought so. As some of your warmth passed to him, Ser Cole chuckled lightly, an unsure smile – no less sincere make no mistake – playing on his lips.

"It's worth it to burn if it shall be by your doing." His self seemed to regain conscious as he grinned at you while interlacing your fingers for the new dance.

"You won't burn," you said, following him in the midst of carefree people dancing tirelessly. Something in the way you said it pinched a nerve, sending a shiver up Criston's spine. It wasn't a misunderstanding of his flirting. More of a reassurance: he won't burn... but something else will happen to him.

He shook the thought away. Surely, just a draft of a tipsy brain. Though he didn't drink but a couple cups – always putting his duty as a knight first of mere pleasures – Ser Cole thought he could lose himself whole in your being. An overbearing presence he couldn't resist. Not that he wished to.

Criston shook his head again. Yes, that must be it. He let that Lady Alicent fill his mind with conspiracies about you. There was no denying you were far from being like anyone else he has ever met, true. But that feeling must be exaggerated by his growing attraction to you.

"You like painting?" Criston decided to entertain a conversation while dancing. Act normal around you. He knew he made the right call when another smile, brighter than the last, bloomed on your face.

"I do."

"What do you paint?"

"Mostly what I see. Though there are times I ask dragons to pose for me."

Once again, he brushed the chilling tingles at the way you spoke about what you see. He had a feeling you meant something else than the sights outside.

He tried a joke. "I bet there are other models you could try. Maybe one's portrait."

"You shan't mean your own, do you, Ser Cole? Can I really be that lucky?"

Criston laughed. And his shoulders relaxed as your own stiff tension vanished away. A changed he noticed in you, one he cherished and allowed be fully calmed by. For the first time since he met you, you were truly present. Giving him the opportunity to make the aqquintance of the real princess y/n that, for reasons he shall find later, hid beneath a mask with everyone else.

"Well, princess, it's my duty to serve you. However you may wish."

Something even wierder happened then. You laughed. Ser Cole decided that is how life itself sounded like if it could be heard guiding its beings through. The chime of bells falling on the ground from a crib. A tune ringing on the happiest of his days. It sounded like the empty noise that caressed his ears after the last clash of metal on metal in a fight. Right before realization settled in – that he won, that he lived – your laugh was the dazed buzzing of the essence of life.

"I thought it meant solely in battle, no?"

"Not every battle must be on a dusty field, ending with me bloodied head to toe."

"Ah, that can't be true. You barely had a scratch today. The others looked like you described, but you? You only had smeared blood on your chin from a lip cut." And with your words you brought your fingers to his mouth, brushing your thumb over the crust standing in relief against the pulpy softness of his lips.

Criston shuddered again. This time not with fear, but with content. Your other four fingers traced his cheek. You made no movement to take them away, but still, Criston covered your hand with his, trapping it in place. He moved it slightly and you allowed it, weightless in his touch. He dropped a kiss to your wrist.

Ser Cole urged all the training he endured to resist taking you right there and then. Your response to his humble kiss sparked wild desire within him: fluttering eyelids, a sigh bordering a moan, a woman like he has never seen before.

If there wouldn't have been the cream of Westeros' nobility in the room, Criston would have grabbed the back of your neck and smash his lips to yours.

"You will have me tonight," you said, as if reading his thoughts, and this time the sure finality of your words escaped him. "I shall see you in my chambers. The door will be unlocked."

Too stunned to stop you, Criston let you walk away. Only the teasing glint in your eyes as you turned to whisper "thank you for the dance, Ser Cole," over your shoulder kept him company until the hour of lovers came to be. Finally.

He questioned it later, the speed with which you gave yourself to him in the sacred chambers only a selected few has seen, on a royal bed from which you never thrown him out of. He questioned it on another night of pleasures, with another princess in his arms. One less confusing with whom things were simple. (He liked simple. Or so he believed).

But for now, Criston Cole was too wrapped in your alluring secrecy. In your truths only he, amongst all the guests in the palace, had the honor to hear.

So he tipped on his toes, armor forgotten in the confinements of his given room. Dressed only in a nightwear the light of his candle revealed his body through. He made his way, as pulled by a string, to your suit. He needn't even knock. The creak in the door confirmed the right place and all Criston had to do was lift a ghostly touch on the wooden plank. Barely a push and he could sneak inside, securing the lock closed shut and tight.

It was the beginning of a formidable romance. The more he visited you, the more he fell in love. He didn't just lay with you as a husband would to a wife, he confessed his hidden most thoughts, highest desires and embarrassing fears. You did the same. The odd look in your gaze no more when he was with you.

Criston knew he can't be seen with you. But the more your love grew, the more he wanted to kiss your cheek every time he passed by you n the halls, or to have you wish him unneeded luck in battle, only for him to come out the winner and smile lovingly at you. "For princess y/n," he wished he could say. About every thing he did in life, in fact.

And the knight was sure you loved him too. Just as much, if not even more. Sometimes his thoughts would circle back to the first time you met, trying to understand if there was love in the depths of your eyes ever since. It couldn't be, and still...

Ser Cole willed every insecurity away. Every question or strange feeling. After all, you were a normal woman, with maybe too much to shoulder alone.

Until one day, when his love had to face his believes. He came to you at night as usual, a huge smile adorning his barely lit face under the thick curtains of his curls. He looked exactly like a lover in the old tales, come to steal the princess away. What was knew, though, was your distress.

"Y/n?" Criston called, dropping the wine he managed to steal and rushing to your side. What he saw tighten the aorta in a strangling grip around his heart.

The room a mess of rumpled papers, brushes and coals at every step, the desk broken apart with its pieces thrown all around. Criston had wanted to wonder what happened and who did this. But one look at you and he knew.

You were cowered in yourself on the bed, back rising with your breath too quickly. Ragged sobs echoing off the silent walls. Inside your deathly grasp, another wrinkled paper laid. Your fingers brushing over it, chipping pieces, letting them fall like ashes on the blankets.

Scared as he was - even the simplest man, a nonbeliever, can feel magic so strong when it's in his air - Criston tried to rub a comforting hand over your back. The second he touched you, he felt his skin melt in angry hisses.

He stepped away. And it was then you first looked at him. Your eyes smudged with tears, a crazed pain inside. "Can't stand to even look at me, Ser Cole?" You rasped. The way your fingers curled and uncurled around the well kept treasure you had, the way your barked words and roars of crying prolonged your mouth wide open, the heat you streamed into the burning room... Criston has never been more terrified in his life. For the first time, he had an idea of what 'the blood of the dragon' meant. For you looked like one. A majestic predator trapped in the body of a woman.

Before he could regain a sense of himself and reality, you snaped by him, disappearing around the corner. Criston didn't follow, eyes locked on the crumpled paper you left behind. Curiosity won in the end. Instead of following you, he grabbed the paper and softly, with upmost care not to break it, he unfolded it. The knight, trained to consider the enemies' moves, make quick and logical battle plans and look at the world as it is, rather than how it could be in one's fairytale, had to understand what he has just been a witness to.

As Criston took in the drawing, brows furrowed in even more confusion than before, a familiar voice screamed nearby. Dropping the sheet, Ser Cole ran towards bustle. Where you attacked your younger sister.

Princess Rhaenyra bore marks of burnt where you touched her, some in the shape of a wide open palm, some looking like fisted knuckles. "A dragon shan't burn," you spit, going in for another kick. The princess was on the ground, stumbling away from you, But the circle that closed in around the two sisters won't allow it. There's nothing the courtiers love more than gossip, even at the expanse of their realm's delight.

"Enough!" Criston boomed, catching your hand. He has put the whole armor on, yet he could still feel your fire. "You'll kill her."

"And that would break your heart, won't it, Ser Cole? Look at you, all a trembling mess at the sight of me. The brave knight who come to save his princess-" you stole a spiteful look at your sister before bestowing your piercing gaze upon him once more -"from the freak."

Criston will beat himself up for not doing anything that day. In your absence, he'd put the puzzle together and welcome guilt to consume him, wishing to be your fire.

But now he was too lost, too scared. He saw a maiden in need of saving and a woman gone mad. All he could think about was that maybe Lady Alicent has been right that far away night. You were, indeed, a peculiar bastard.

"Let her go," a commanding voice towered over him. The prince Targaryen hushed the lot of peasants, servants and bashful nobles away. "Help Rhaenyra to the healers."

A last thread of defiance clawed its madly in love head out. Despite your outburst he couldn't explain, he still felt for you. Deeply. He couldn't let you go. But he wouldn't accept you either... At least not yet.

"My prince," Criston bowed reluctantly, releasing his hold on your wrist.

"Can you stand?" He asked Rhaenyra. She gave him a subtle nod and accepted his hand to pull slowly pull herself up. They limped away in a soft embrace. When Ser Cole stole a peek behind, Daemon and you were gone.

He found the next day the king has finally lost his patience with his oldest daughter upon hearing of what had happened between you and Rhaenyra. In a burst of fury, he exiled you.

"Daemon is with her. No one knows - nor care to know - where." Lady Alicent informed Criston on their way to visit Rhaenyra who was advised to stay in bed until she completely heals.

"How do you feel?" He asked her when Alicent rushed out to empty herself of the rich breakfast. Viserys has married her no long ago, already giving her a child.

"Well. Not at all as if my sister just tried to kill me."

"Right," Criston cringed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I think I always knew she'd snap. I just didn't want to believe it."

"Were you close?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, tilting it to face the covers in shameful sadness. "No one was. Except Daemon and her late mother. It seemed for a bit she let you in too."

"Her mother?"Criston decided against pondering too much on the narrow list of people you allowed the company of.

"I thought Alicent already told you. Our father cheated my mother with a servant in her chambers. Y/n is the result of that."

"Is that why you two never..."

"Not at all!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, guessing very well what Criston was about to ask. "Her mother was a bit of mine too, in fact. After mine died birthing me, y/n's took care of both of us, raising us like sisters. But she seemed lost in her own head. The only times she talked to me was scary. Cripted warnings with no explanation. Like to stay away from Alicent.

When y/n's mother died I tried comforting her. I thought we could finally bond. But she stared me in the eye - a look I can't forget to this day - and told me not worry about her. She's been through this many times. But about myself and my friends I surround with. I hadn't try speak to her since."

Days passed and Criston and Rhaenyra grew closer and closer 'til a beautiful friendship was tied. Ser Cole seemed to have forgotten about you, if not for the daily walks to your suit. The way there imprinted in his mind.

He'd sit on the bed, head hanging between his palms rested on his knees. Lost in thought. Other times he'd pace the still not cleaned floor. Pick drawing after drawing up, trying to decipher what he looked at. The knight kept the paper you smoldered in your grip the day you attacked Rhaenyra. Hanging like the most valuable piece of art in his room, greeting him in the morn', lulling him to sleep at night. Two bodies tangled together, hands clasped in desperate union stretched on white sheets.

One night, as he said goodbye to the dragon heir after spending hours in each other's filled with desire arms, Criston went back to his own bed. The smile he wore faltered and fall when he saw your drawing. A perfect image of the sweetly love making he has just returned from.

"It can't be." He whispered, a poor attempt to convince himself against what his right mind already knew as truth. Criston took down the drawing, smoothening it on the cold floor. He brushed his fingers over every inch of it as still fresh memories confirmed it. You drew the future that day.

"And any other day," Ser Cole muttered. A sort of frightened admiration washing over him. He knew the stories, of course he did. Everyone has heard of Velarys' magic running in the veins of its people. Most people thought it's only the dragons. Taming them, controlling the beasts. It was so much more, he too lately realized.

Your too hot skin, never to be burned but meant to burn. Your lost eyes, seeing time's rush behind the e/c veil.

Criston twirled his sword in one hand, thinking, trying to contain the anger in his bones. What was he supposed to do with this information now? Would it change anything? You still mercilessly attacked your own sister in a fit of jealousy.

Yes, a voice in his head deadpanned. But even he could admit to himself, even if he could accept his love for you never died, Criston also had to see there was nothing more to do than moving on. Daemon took you skies know where. And you probably loathed him even if he could find you. Maybe it was time to move on. Your drawing of the future showed it too.

So Criston Cole had tried. And so Criston Cole has failed. He saw you in every face he looked at. Heard you in every voice addressing him. None as beautiful, none as etheral as your figure and the sound of your speaking. But his mind couldn't help but conjure your memory in every aspect of his life.

It drove him mad. He couldn't sleep, eat, nor train without your doomed presence looming over him. It's your fault, it seemed to say. You abandoned me, cheater. You broke me.

He could take it no more.

It was the banquet of Rhaenyra's wedding when Criston let go of any protocol, care and worry. He has dishonored his vows, tainted by desire. Every time he left her chambers the hole in his soul expanded. Fury at himself ate him alive. And not only for the kingsguard white cloak, not so pure anymore.

No, he should have never received it in the first place. After he allowed his love turned hate by gross fear, after he allowed it to hurt you and you to hurt Rhaenyra. After he fulfilled your pained prophecies, Ser Criston Cole shouldn't have reach such a title. Clearly, he wasn't worthy of it. The only thing he had to bring pride to his name and he muddled it.

Maybe the princess would be happy to leave with him. After all, there were many unhappy voices in the council with her father's choice. It would be so easier. A new life in Esos, forgetting the old, burying the hurt.

So he took an offer of good faith - oranges and cinnamon - to signify his loyalty and the undying of his love. Nevermind it may be another lie he tells himself to feel better, to sooth a pit - he carved with his own two hands in his being - short moment for short moment.

As he searched for the princess-heir, Ser Cole found himself face to face to a breathtaking sight. You. Criston would have thought he's imagining things had he not spotted Daemon by your side. Whispering something in your ear.

Ser Criston froze on his feet. Taking in all your etheral beauty he dreamt of every day, night and in between. You haven't changed at all - of course you didn't. Criston reminded himself you were only gone for a few months. The same striking gleam in your eyes, the same inviting lips curled into a sober smirk.

The knight felt his heart sink. You were farring so much better in your uncle's company. His eyes slide down in shame, only to fixate on your form. Something has changed, after all. A swollen belly poked your garments with heavy pregnancy.

"Tell my brother I shall not attend this wedding without my wife to be," Daemon argued with a stubborn guard.

Cole's heart sunk even more. Wife to be. A baby. You moved on so fast while every memory of you was ever lasting in his heart, pulling him backwards each time. He deserved it.

He needed to act now. Find Rhaenyra and leave. All he could think about looking for the bride of tonight was how much he wished to have a pinch of your magic right now. Ironic, he knew. But, oh, what he wouldn't give to burn the prince's hands off when he touched you.

Everything happened so fast afterwards. His rejection by the princess numbed him. The three bottles of alcohol he has breathed in arose his anger. Then he found himself in the midst of a chaos he didn't understand.

Criston stumbled on his feet, vision a blur of colors and shapes. Blood spilled around him as men begin to stab guests all of a sudden.

"Daemon, I'm dying," he heard your voice. The knight turned around, blinking the dizziness away in a futile attempt to spot you.

"I won't let that happen, y/n. But I need you to focus, where is Rhaenyra?"

"She will survive."

"Y/n, that's not what I asked. Where is she? Please!" Criston has never heard such desperation in the dragon prince's voice. "Remember why we came here, yes? To warn them. Protect them. That is why I killed my wife and pretend to be your betrothed. So, focus. Where is Rhaenyra?"

"She'll survive. I won't. The baby..." You trailed off. Ser Cole's heart broke in pieces. And if it already was broken as he could argue later, then the pieces spread too far gone to be made whole again. Your voice. Just like the one you had months ago when you saw him cheating on you. Except this time the madness in your voice was replaced by sorrow. "We cannot change the future, Daemon."

Your voices became clearer now for Ser Cole. Even in the maihem that broke around him. He turned one more time and he almost leaped. There you were, pulled by a bloodied Daemon, fighting your way out of the massacre.

"Yes, we can. That's why you have these visions. You and the babe will live to see tomorrow morn'. I swear this to you."

Criston begin to sway his way towards you when a strong man rushed right in front of him, carrying you on his back. He blinked and almost made a move to follow him. But the he saw you again, in the same spot as before, still cinging to Daemon Targaryen.

Rhaenyra will survive, your voice ranged though his hazed mind. The only thing making sense for the drunken night. I won't.

Just as he thought it Criston saw Joffrey Lonmouth sneaking at your back. Sword drawn, reddened with the blood of his victims from tonight, hungry for more.

"Y/n," he shouted at the same time Joffrey yelled "death to the princess". It seemed he hasn't been the only one to confuse you with your sister.

Both Criston and Daemon moved at the speed of dragon fire. Daemon slicing Lonmouth's arm off while Ser Cole pulled you aside.

And they both thought they saved you. Until a shuddering scream left your lungs and you grew lighter and limper in Criston's hold. The knight looked down where the tip of the sword pushed through the baby bump.

Your hands went to rub it on instant, feeling uncousciously for the babe that could be no more. "This isn't right. This isn't right!"

"Y/n, I need you to breath, alright?" Daemon tried to sooth you, passing a trembling hand through his golden locks to stop it. "Get her to the maestress," he snapped at Ser Cole. "Now! What are you waiting for?"

That seemed to be enough to pull Criston out of the alcohol claws. He picked you up and rushed outside the dining hall, trusting Daemon to watch his back.

He ran faster than he ever did before. He wished he could have words of encouragement for you, but his throat has died and his brain could only focus on one thing: getting you away from the fight and into good care.

"No, no, no, no," you kept pulling at his arms, trying to break free. "This isn't right," you chanted, voice growing to yells of dellirium or lowering to mutters of a lost mind.

"It will be, princess. Please, let me take you to safety. Y/n!"

"The baby. My baby. Our baby!" Ser Cole barely salvaged the misstep, gaining back the lost track of his running rhythm.

"I should be dead too. I should be with our baby. I saw it. Why isn't it happening?" You demanded, tears spilling on from your chin on his arms.

At last, Criston reached the healers' corners. You were put to sleep so they could work uninterrupted by your hectic moves. He didn't leave you for one second, not even in the confused daze he tried to break from. He would guard at your head day and night until you shall come back to your senses.

"Princess y/n shall survive. But the babe is lost."

Ser Cole thanked the old lady and sat on the edge of the bed at your feet. Where your stomach has been swollen with life mere hours ago, a flattened reminder of the loss was in place. He reached to touch it, but decided against it. In the state of your mind, you must have not realized whom you're talking to. Daemon fathered the child... did he not?

"Criston?" It's been days until you woke up. He hadn't wondered outside to know the consequences of that night. He couldn't if it meant leaving you.

"Take it easy," the knight said as he saw trying to get up. "Is there anything you need?"

Instead of an answer, your hands flew to your stomach and a whimper broke through your sealed tight lips. "This isn't right."

Criston took your hands in his. "Hey, hey, look at me. Y/n, look at me. You did everything you could to be with your baby. But we can't fight fate. There must be a reason you survived, even if this isn't what you saw. I am sure soon enough you'll see a new future." Saying it, Criston smiled at you through unshed tears, nodding his head as if to pass you all his bravery. That wasn't that much in the moment, though.

"But, I lost our baby. And you're here, with me."

Choosing to ignore the sharp question of his presence, Criston focused on the first part of your speech. "You keep saying our baby..."

"You are - were," you winced, "the father. I have fallen pregnant after our first night together. It messed with my magic. After I saw you and Rhaeeyra... I'm sorry. I a, so sorry."

"No, I a, the one who should apologize. You have these amazing gifts and you choose to show them to me, out of all people. I didn't know how to appreciate you."

"Do you love her? My sister?"

"No. I love you, y/n. It has always been you."

"But the look in your eyes back then..."

"A stupid, stupid mistake. I didn't understand you and I turned on you because of that."

You nodded, eyes still glued to your too thin waist. You have gotten used to the weight. "You never felt him kick."

"Him?"

"I saw him in the future. He looked like you. We were happy in Esos. But then I saw the attack and our death. And now... now I can't see anything. I am so confused, Criston," you cried, grief mixing with an emotion you have never knew: anxiety for the future.

"You are tired, y/n. Rest. Don't think too much of it. The visions will come back, just give it time. You have just woken up."

Ser Cole was about to live to get the maestress to take one more look at you. And, frankly, he needed time to munch on everything. He was a father for five months and he didn't even know. Now he lost a son.

"I saw you too. In Esos. With us," you said, picking his attention. "My visions aren't always in order, but I was so sure..."

"I haven't been sure of anything since I met you, y/n Targaryen. But say the word and I'll leave for Esos - for any place you want - with you."

"Take me to Esos, Ser Criston Cole. Now."

[sophi-s]

Day 29 #Grief

Whoops. I actually ended up writing a short piece for this one as well and uh... I think I accidentally created a new ship... :O

To Mourn Together

By: sophi-s (me)

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Words: 1 961

Warnings: None

Characters: Uriel, Nathaniel, Abaddon (mentioned)

_________________________________________

With utmost certainty, one could say it was one of the brightest nights in the White City. Of course, with the buildings in the color of gilded snow, every night seemed bright. But that one particular night the full moon spilled its cold, silver light all over the angelic city, bathing it in a pale glow that reflected in the smooth surfaces and illuminated the warm darkness as the gentle gusts of wind blew through the quiet and empty plaza.

Aside from the sentries patrolling the streets, all of the Heaven's denizens were long asleep in their homes. All of them.

Except for one.

A figure of a lonely angel threads lightly through the city, grand white wings folded neatly at his sides, just like his hands behind his back. His golden battle armor is discarded in favor of a simple set of clothes. There's nothing threatening him after all. Lost in thought, he doesn't acknowledge guards greeting him as he passes by. He walks seemingly without purpose, reconsidering the not so recent events.

Your friend serves the Shadow.

The Archon? Corrupted?!

Impossible!

Leave me, Horseman. I must think of what to do now…

He shook his head with an exasperated sigh. One hundred years. It's been over one hundred years since all of this happened. And yet, all this felt far too fresh in his head. As though it happened merely yesterday. Sweeping his gaze over his surroundings, he realised he'd left for the outskirts of the White City, where the grand Tree of Life stands tall and magnificent as it has since the day Heaven was created. But to his surprise, he wasn't alone here after all. At the foot of the Tree, his keen white eyes spotted another angel. A woman. The same silver hair, any other angel possesses, fluttering on the wind, wings of golden, radiant feathers slumped sadly against her back as she stood there, gazing out at the locked gate to the Well of Souls. Strange. He assumed he would be alone.

Since he wasn't trying to sneak up on her, she heard him approach quite early and whipped around to face him, her own robes billowing, but the moment she laid her golden eyes on him she simply sighed.

"Oh. It's just you, Nathaniel.."

"So it is."

Nathaniel murmured, silently wondering who she'd been actually expecting, and stood for a few long moments, looking at her. A black ribbon with a darkened feather tied around her right wrist caught his attention and something twisted painfully in his chest. Even blackened and bathed in Hellish corruption, the ribbon was unmistakable and the feather spoke for itself..

"What are you doing here, Uriel?"

He found himself asking nonetheless. It's been a long while since they last talked. After all, Nathaniel had been sent away from the Hellguard shortly after Uriel joined their ranks. And it was so long ago.. Humming quietly, Uriel turned away to look up at the Tree's tangled canopy of small fluttering leaves.

"A year…"

She sighed when Nathaniel came closer and stood beside her, watching her stare into the black sky where the moon gazed down on them like a gigantic, round eye.

"It's been a year since Abaddon died.. exactly a year, day to day."

Nathaniel nodded in agreement, looking at Uriel's fingers absent mindedly stroking the end of the ribbon tied around her forearm. Even though he'd been away from the White City for quite some time, rumours about the commander of the Hellguard reached Nathaniel even in Lostlight. If they were true, then no wonder Uriel takes Abaddon's demise so personally. He could only imagine what was going on in her head throughout this year. He wasn't going to stop her from spitting out what she'd been choking up inside of her.

"And yet.. I still sometimes wonder. If I should've done something. Stopped War… I don't know."

"He'd been the Destroyer, Uriel. As much as I disagree with it, you couldn't do anything else for him."

Furrowing her eyebrows, Uriel huffed and lowered her head.

"I know. But… I still have this in my head. The sight of him reaching out to me for help. What if…"

She hesitated, something that was very unlike her. Nathaniel raised his eyebrows curiously, waiting for her to speak up. He had his suspicions from the moment Death brought the news of Abaddon's fate and he couldn't help but wonder if Uriel thought the same way.

"I refuse to believe he'd planned it from the beginning. What if all of it wasn't his choice? He can't have been in his right mind! What if before War killed him, in his last moments Abaddon, the real Abaddon, came back? What if… there was still something worth saving in him?"

Nathaniel's suspicions turned out to be true. She thought just like he had. Now it was his turn to look up at the sky. Indeed, there was something so enchanting about this particular night..

"I wondered myself, Uriel. Many times in fact…"

The younger angel crossed her arms and glared down at her boots as though they'd done something wrong. The branches of the Tree creaked mournfully as the wind tugged on them and ruffled feathers of both angels standing below. Its gusts were getting stronger and its voice whistling against nearby structures brought to mind a sorrowful cry of a lost soul.

"Abaddon taught me everything I know. I had known him my whole life. It feels so… empty without him."

I can't believe he's gone. That's what she truly meant to say and Nathaniel knew it but said nothing of it. He knew that feeling quite well. Better than most. Abaddon had been his friend after all…

"Sometimes I feel like he's still here. Watching over me like he always has.."

Uriel chuckled humorlessly, as though she meant to laugh off the ridiculousness of her claim but Nathaniel didn't feel like laughing. He laid his hand on Uriel's shoulder, nearly making her jump in the process.

"Who says he isn't?"

He could clearly see her jaw visibly clench tightly at his assumption. Not that he could blame her. Nathaniel knew all too well what Uriel was going through. He didn't want anyone to feel like he does and he wished to offer her comfort, compassion. But it's not easy to do so while he grieves as well.

"Do you think I could've changed it?"

Uriel suddenly asked, making Nathaniel's eyebrow wander up.

"During the initial Endwar.. Do you think if I was a little faster back then…"

"Uriel."

The deep tone of his voice had just the result he was counting on as she cut off to finally look him in the eye. Nathaniel placed his other hand on her other shoulder and said sternly

"Even if so, it doesn't change anything. We can't turn back time. Thinking this way won't make you feel better."

"And how could you possibly know?"

It was just the matter of time before Uriel snapped and brushed Nathaniel's hands from her shoulders. There was fire in her eyes, burning like the hottest blaze of Hell.

"You don't know how I feel."

Frowning gently, Nathaniel heaved out a long suffering sigh.

"Quite the opposite in fact.. I know exactly how you feel…"

This seemed to have given Uriel a pause.

"I've known Abaddon even longer than you have. He was my close friend, one of the very few I had. When the news of his fall reached me I kept wondering if it would've been different if I was there. This one, wretched thought stayed with me for a whole century, like a festering wound that refuses to heal. If you seek understanding, I assure you, you will find it in me."

Would it have been different if I knew of the darkness that threatened Lucien? Sometimes he still has those doubts... In shock, Uriel opened her mouth a couple of times only to shut it again as she couldn't find suitable words. Until..

"I'm… sorry. I had no idea…"

With an unhappy smile, Nathaniel shook his head. He wasn't going to take offense. Grief does strange things to people. Uriel snapping at him wasn't the worst thing that could've happened.

"Past cannot be changed. Blaming yourself will not bring you peace of mind. We must march into the future."

Snickering quietly, Uriel looked away.

"You speak words of wisdom.. But I cannot decide if they help me either."

Humming thoughtfully, Nathaniel measured Uriel. Her heart was bleeding profusely, even though she kept it hidden away. He knew how to recognise inner turmoil. From his own experience.. Fortunately, he knew just the way. And honestly, after all this.. Abaddon's treason, Lucien's collapse into the hateful darkness.. he probably needed it as much as she did. Carefully, but insistently, Nathaniel reached out to Uriel and gently pulled her into his arms.

"Nathaniel? What.. are you doing?"

Uriel didn't stop him, probably because of confusion and surprise. Not getting pushed away was a small victory in itself. He was more than happy to explain it to her. Going back to memories of that peculiar human who accompanied Death everywhere always warmed his heart.

"A good friend of mine had told me once that embraces can bring comfort. Especially in sorrow. Does it help you ?"

For a long moment Uriel didn't answer. She was thinking. Up this close Nathaniel could feel her heart rapidly hammering against her ribcage. But then she finally returned the embrace and placed her head on his chest with a heavy sigh.

"It does. Even if a little.."

A tiny note of wonderment in her voice was barely perceptible but definitely there. For a few minutes both angels stood like that in silence before Uriel spoke again.

"Do you think he's at peace? Abaddon, I mean…"

Staring at the shorter angel in his arms, Nathaniel harrumphed. The Charred Council was surely bent on condemning Abaddon, sentencing him to damnation even after his death. He only hoped that the Horsemen made short work of them before they were able to fulfill their dire promises and cast the already tormented soul into Oblivion. Nothing was sure. The only way to confirm either was to travel to the Kingdom of the Dead. Nathaniel couldn't say for certain that Abaddon has his rest or if his spirit in this very moment wastes away in nothingness. The mere thought made his stomach churn. But he didn't speak his fears out loud. He didn't dare.

"I do sincerely hope so…"

An answer as good as any, he supposed. It wasn't a "yes" but neither it was a "no". Perhaps it would be just enough..

"Thank you, Nathaniel.. I'm glad you came here…"

Somehow, an odd, heavy presence lingering about was abruptly lifted from the air when Uriel whispered into the edge of his coat but stayed motionless where she was, unwilling  and not ready to pull away just yet. Mourning is always easier with a companion. For just a second Nathaniel could've sworn he saw something… someone… move out of the corner of his eye but just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone. It was most likely nothing. Just a fleeting trick of his imagination. Nathaniel rested his chin on top of Uriel's head and closed his eyes, listening to the wind blowing gently overhead and to her heart beating right next to his own. Two different rhythms that seemed the same. He didn't wish to leave just yet either. Luckily, he didn't have to. There was no need for hurry. It was still the middle of the night. No one will see them here, vulnerable and weak, slowly mending their broken hearts from the pieces.

They still had time…

_________________________________________

Bear with me, I just wanted those sad dorks to lift each other's spirits up. It's not my fault that I'm so trash 😂

At least I drew Nathaniel properly, as I promised :P

Darksiders Inktober drawing prompts by @imagine-darksiders

[forestwater87]

OK. So idk if something is wrong with me, I'm naive or just missing something but I really really don't understand how these girls are Victims? I'm not saying they aren't, I just don't understand. As far as I can tell they all consented, and were never pressured or coerced into doing anything. I'm not trying to troll or be contrary or judgmental I'm just struggling to understand. Sorry, you seem to be quite well thought about this whole mess. I hope this ask is okay and doesn't cause any offence, it genuinely is not my intention.

I understand why you feel that way. I wasn’t comfortable calling them victims early in this whole situation (which has only been about a week long, Jesus), and it wasn’t really until I started to put all of them together that patterns began to emerge and I could really understand the scope of what Ryan did. I’ll lay out my thoughts here, referring to the individuals by their first initial following the example set by r/RyanHaywood, and hopefully we’ll be able to piece together why so many of us are willing to call these women victims.

(To be clear: I’m not trying to call anyone a victim who does not consent to that term. I don’t believe any of these fans have come forward expressing that they don’t want to be considered victims, but if that’s the case then I have no interest in forcing that label on anyone. I’m using it as a descriptive term, not a prescriptive one, if that makes sense.)

First off, we’ll start with the easiest stuff to agree with:

1. At least one of them was a victim of statutory rape, and potentially just plain rape. I’m not sure what the laws on removing a condom during sex without consent are, but M’s story makes it clear that he did not do due diligence in making sure she was of legal age -- the same can be argued for T, though her lying to him about her age makes that a tougher putt for some people; I’m pretty sure legally speaking he’s still in the hole -- so he just straight-up had sex with a minor. Technically with two minors. 

So that one’s pretty easy. However, there have been something like 9 people have come forward and only 2 of them were minors. Certainly not a winning record -- to be abundantly clear, the number of minors you should be having sex with is 0; if it’s possible to have sex with negative numbers of minors, that should be the baseline for everyone -- but one of them lied about her age and the other one seemed really enthusiastic, and what about those other women? They were adults and they consented, so they shouldn’t be considered victims, right?

Well, that’s where it gets a bit trickier. I’ll put this all under a cut for length, but while the following isn’t illegal, it’s definitely immoral, and part of what led to me being more comfortable calling these women victims:

2. They were victims due to his celebrity status. Your mileage is definitely going to vary on this one, but the fact that Ryan is a popular internet personality means that his fans are more likely to be starstruck, intimidated, flattered, or otherwise willing to do things to make him happy that they otherwise wouldn’t do. T, M, and L have all said that they were influenced by their admiration of him as a fan to do things they wish they hadn’t, and there are definitely ways that influencers or celebrities can ethically date fans (Caiti Ward was a huge RT fan before she and Jack married, and by all appearances they’re the most wholesome couple in the entire world), but encouraging them to send you naked pictures in exchange for positive validation from someone you idolize definitely seems like a bad use of celebrity status. L indicates that Ryan claims he didn’t realize the impact his status had on fans, but considering he was seemingly exclusively choosing sex partners from within the fanbase -- as opposed to, say, Tinder or something -- he must’ve on some level gathered that fans were easier to convince to do what he wanted.

3. They were victims of dishonest behavior. All of the women who’ve spoken up so far have said that they believed they were the only one Ryan was having an extramarital sexual relationship with, which indicates at best that he was extremely vague on establishing the parameters of their relationship and arguably suggests he was misleading them. This put them at risk for STDs (especially considering his apparent comfort with unprotected sex) as well as just general emotional harm. He lied about them as well, indicating to anyone who found out -- from his mods in 2017 to his statement a few days ago -- that any relationship was an isolated mistake.

It’s also unclear how honest he was about his marriage; all of the women who discussed this aspect have said that he told them a similar story, and at least M was led to believe that she was actually helping his marriage by satisfying his sexual needs so he wouldn’t have to leave his wife. It’s naïve and perhaps delusional to an outsider, but that and a lot of other stuff seems to be explained by . . .

4. They were victims of emotional manipulation. What’s really telling about lining all of these accounts up is the pattern that emerges: Ryan began with friendly conversation, often dispensing advice on personal and mental health issues (virtually all of the women who’ve come forward have expressed that they have some sort of mental illness), before testing the waters with a sexual comment that could be read as a joke or escalated further depending on the response of the fan, then alternating between showering them with compliments and attention and ignoring them for days or weeks on end. In at least one account he appears to have lied about a fan behind her back, which intentionally or not resulted in her losing most of her friends and being bullied on his own server, which he dismissed (again, behind her back) while treating her sympathetically to her face. That particular sexual relationship didn’t begin until after all of the above, and it’s not much of a stretch to note that he found a fan, isolated her, and then escalated the relationship into a sexual one.

And again, it comes down to spotting a pattern. Even if you don’t feel like a particular woman here is a victim, it’s important to take a look at all of their commonalities:

They were huge fans of Ryan, and followed him on at least one form of social media. Words like “idolized” and “loved” are used a lot in these testimonies.

They struggled with mental illness or personal issues (including bullying, depression, insecurity, marriage problems, etc.) that Ryan was informed about and seemingly supportive of.

They were younger than him by at least 8-9 years.

Their conversations gradually become more and more sexual. Sometimes this was initiated by Ryan, sometimes by the fan; if the sexual comments were rebuffed, they were immediately dismissed as jokes.

Nudes were sent and received, and they all stress how desired and valued Ryan made them feel.

If they were told about his marriage, it was a story that made him look highly sympathetic, and made cheating seem like less of a big deal or even the lesser of two evils.

He would push for in-person meetups, even offering to pay for the flight and hotel (using money he received from stream donations, which he claimed were being sent to his children's’ college funds).

He appears to have been uneven with his attention; multiple fans mentioned that he would “get bored” of them and not reply for days or even weeks at a time, and M mentions that he’d continue to “check in” even after their sexual relationship had ended. (Putting these together creates an image of a constantly-rotating list of potential partners that he’d cycle through, but admittedly this is just speculation.) One of the fans -- not sure which, but I linked them all so go hunting if you feel like it -- mentioned that he seemed bored or dismissive of non-sex talk after their relationship got sexual, essentially rescinding the very thing that made them want to talk to him in the first place.

So here we have a pattern of Ryan seeking out fans, especially those who were young and had personal issues making them vulnerable, drew them in with charm and friendly advice, then escalated the conversations to a graphic sexual nature, attempted to hook up with them, and made them feel special and unique (when that clearly was not the case). There are justifications for all of these on their own -- he’s not obligated to tell every sexual partner about all the others, some of the fans were the ones who took it further, etc. -- but when you put them all together, it’s pretty damning. This isn’t the behavior of someone who made a few mistakes with equally-consenting adults, but someone who had his strategy down to a science. 

To finally sum this up, anon: you don’t have to feel like any of these individual women were victims (well, except M; I don’t think there’s any other way to read that horrible story), but taken together I hope you can see Ryan’s predatory behavior. At the very least, I hope we can agree that they were all victims of lies and emotional manipulation.

Maybe it was unintentional . . . but with such consistent accounts, I find it hard to believe.