#this human (immortal but still human) who’s just a simple fucked up man

[psychoticwillgraham]

not me spending more time on the buildup and on hannibal’s complete and total love and devotion to will in what’s supposed to be a nasty porn fic 😭

[the-apostates-martyr]

An AU in which it is Marius who found Daniel first.

"Daniel….Daniel, young one, wake up."

Daniel groaned as the vampire shook him, the gentle movements feeling ready to jostle him off the motel sofa he'd fallen asleep on. Vampires were damn strong like that, he knew, and besides that, he was dizzy. He cracked open his eyes a sliver and groaned as the room around him undulated. In the piss yellow lamp light though he could see his companion, silvery hair stained yellow from the bulbs, white skin turning gold.

The blurry visage of his follower frowned at him, the lines around his mouth deepening. "You aren't drunk," he observed hesitantly and Daniel groaned again.

"Fantastic observation, Marius, you clever fuck." He blinked a few times and finally pushed himself upright, his body aching for it. "Not hung over either, just dying."

"Hardly." Marius clucked once and bent down, his impressive height lowering to Daniel's level as he pressed the back of his hand to his cheek; Daniel shivered. It felt good but it was *so* cold. His skin felt burned compared to it. "You're feverish."

"Groovy," was all Daniel could muster up before he began to cough, raising up his arm to hack into his elbow. Marius retreated slightly and Daniel wondered if he was still worth hunting now that he was grossing him out so much.

"I'm not put out by a little cough," Marius informed him, having obviously read his mind. "I have had multiple humans in my care through my 2,000 years and have seen far worse than a head cold."

Daniel finished his coughing, noteing the tickle in his chest that could become a pain at any time-damn the cigarettes- but he looked up to Marius with interest even through it.

"Multiple huh? How many multiples? All at once or like, one after another?"

Marius smirked. "Nice try my little interviewer, but no."

"Oh come on, Marius, you've been after me almost a year now and you never tell me shit!" Whined the boy. He shivered again, and drew one of the lumpy orange pillows onto his lap as though it would warm him.

"Oh come now, I tell you plenty." Marius was unbothered, it seemed, by Daniel's cranky accusations. How strange he looked to Daniel still, this man dressed in a pair of simple wool slacks and a black turtleneck sweater, jacket draped over his arm and hair clipped back in a neat tie, looking wholly out of place among the wild green and yellow wallpaper and shag carpeting of this cheap room. Daniel had been here long enough to make a home of it, as much a home as anywhere had been in the year since he left San Francisco with his head full of vampires and New Orleans and immortality. About three weeks here in Detroit, his shampoo and razer in the small bathroom, a few pieces of clothing taken from his duffle bag and crammed into the dresser. Good enough for a rambling man running from (or was it leading on?) A vampire.

"I tell you plenty. I told you I lived in Rome, didn't I? And I told you about the house I kept there. I told you I paint, and I'm fond of red-"

"Anyone not color blind can see that," Daniel argued, before he began to cough again, mad about it this time. "Damn it!"

Marius appraised him, still standing quite detached from it all in the center of the messy room. "Well, perhaps you wouldn't be sick if you didn't spend your nights wandering bars in the cold and sharing cigarettes with strange men."

Daniel's laugh was dry and wheezy, bloodshot eyes looking up through long, messy ashen bangs. "Marius, I put a lot worse than their cigarettes in my mouth you know."

"A gentleman doesn't watch, Daniel."

"Prude," he chided, and he watched Marius parse out that bit of slang for a moment as though testing whether he should be insulted. He was rarely insulted. Daniel had let out every volley of curses and rude accusations at this man since he started following him in New Orleans, but very rarely did Daniel even make him blush. He was taking it as a challenge now. Daniel shook his head, regretting it as the vertigo took hold, and stood. He regretted that too; he felt cold, yes, but also weak as he walked, and his legs ached like he'd just walked a mile uphill. The flu, then, he guessed, remembering how much it ached when he'd last had the flu. His arms hurt too as he raised them to ruffle through his cabinet in the kitchenette, looking for aspirin and finding the bottle empty.

"You took the last ten when you were hung over on Sunday," Marius reminded the boy, and he caught the bottle easily as Daniel hucked it at him. Daniel was still after all this time startled by the speed of the vampire, their strength and skill, but this was waning each day. Now he was accustomed to it and he only glared at Marius and gave another unbecoming cough.

Marius gave a disapproving shake of his head, and next Daniel knew those cool, marble hands were on him, pulling him back to the larger part of the room and to the rumpled bed. "Come," Marius growled, "you're ill. Lay back down."

"Just a cold," he argued, but he was also too off kilter to put in his usual sass and fight to his vampiric stalker.

Marius paid him little mind, though, and besides that, laying down felt better, the sheets cool and almost clean ish beneath him, mattress lumpy but less so than the couch was. He sighed, rolling over onto his stomach and half burying his face into the pillow as though to hide from the building headache. Around him he heard Marius wandering the room, gathering up discarded t-shirts and jackets, throwing it all into a single pile. Ah, a housekeeping vampire, now that was useful, thought Daniel, before dozing off.

He slept deep but fitful through the night, waking to pad to the bathroom, change into a warmer shirt, only to be guided back to bed. This service was more and more welcome as the night wore on and his fever grew, making him more uncomfortable and surely more cranky. It was perhaps a blessing for Marius then that Daniel was so tired and couldn't mouth off. At one point though it had occurred to Daniel through his temperature that this was leaving him at an exceptionally vulnerable spot, and that he couldn't fight Marius off at all now should he decide to kill him.

"You couldn't fight me off even on your best day," reminded Marius as he handed Daniel a glass of water, and Daniel cussed him out for prying into his brain again.

More nap, more sleep, strange dreams enfolding Daniel each time. The waters of a canal, Venice, it seemed, beautiful buildings, the marble glittering in moon light. More marble, temples now, stone carvings, lit by fire, some sort of altar, as though for worship- such strange dreams, fueled by fever, and when Daniel awoke he was alone. Of course he was, with Marius unable to survive him by sunlight.

He coughed fitfully, scrubbing at his eyes and his body aching. He rolled over to see his bedside table stuffed with things. Bottles of water and juice, bottles of aspirin, tissues, a folded piece of paper. Reaching for it, Daniel squinted in the dim light without his glasses.

"Daniel,

There is soup for you in the refrigerator. I'll be most displeased if I find it there still when I return.

-Marius."

"Christ alive," Daniel groaned. He sat up, coughing again, and then felt suddenly very cold as something fell from around his shoulders. Blinking, he looked around him, catching sight of a pile of red velvet; he recognized it immediately as Marius' jacket, one he wore often, gold buttons adornijg thebfront and the smell of hisbexoensoge cologne all over it.

Whatever was in the fridge could wait. Feeling *strangely* warm now, even with his fever, Daniel nestled back down, burying his tired face in the folds of that coat.

[vewyscawywriting]

Boundless Pleasure

Fandom: League of Legends

Pairing: Unbound Thresh x F!Summoner!Reader

Wordcount: 4021 words

Tags: Edging/orgasm delay, overstimulation

Summary: You sneak off with Thresh and experience a night at the inn. It goes different than what you expected as Thresh is playing annoying games once again.

Summoners weren't allowed outside of the Rift or the Summoner building, but when Thresh himself had allowed you to come with him as long as you didn't interfere or annoy him, how could you possibly stay in your room. You were sure if the Institute were to find out punishment would be worse than just a simple ban, but your disguise was perfect, and as long as Thresh knew what he was doing you'd be fine. Surely. You had escaped punishment with your outing with Draven as well, so you weren't too scared.

You took a carriage through a city somewhere in Noxus, sitting quietly opposite Thresh, who didn't pay you any attention, just scheming by himself, so you decided to look outside the window. The view was... quite something. Even though you took the backstreets, you could clearly see the Immortal Bastion towering over all the buildings. Just the fact that you, a Summoner, were in Noxus right now was quite overwhelming. The sudden halt of the carriage made you fall forward, right on top of Thresh, who immediately looked down on you with one raised eyebrow. Well, fuck you sideways. 

"I'm so-"

"Always so clumsy. I can't understand how someone can live like this, but this quite explains some actions on the Rift." he said with a sigh, not helping you up, but not pushing you off as well. You tried to get up quickly, face heating up at the notice of your position on his lap, and as the horses that drew the carriage stepped forward another step, the carriage jerked, making you fall back down again. You groaned. Whyyyyy...

"Now, we don't have all day. I'm sure they'll have a room for us in this inn where you can throw yourself in my lap if you really can't help yourself."

You finally got up, indignant. Brushing imaginary dust off yourself you straightened your cloak before you very carefully got out of the carriage, making sure not to do something stupid again.

...

Bort, the poor man. You felt for him, truly! However, your promise to Thresh had made sure you couldn't really say a word to him, either in warning or to comfort. You could only try to convey things with your gaze, but the cursed man never looked in anyone's eye. Honestly it was for the best, just observing what the sadistic wraith would do was better than any movie. 

...

The door closed with a soft click behind the two of you, a silence falling over the room as you awkwardly walked towards one of the single beds in the room. 

"You're gonna kill them all, aren't you?" you asked the man who stood still in the room, a brooding look on his face.

"Oh, of course," he said as he finally faced you, chuckling, "It's what they deserve."

"And even if it wasn't, you'd still do it, of course."

"Of course."

His eyes glowed with a strange light as he looked at you, excitement, bloodlust, sadism, you could read it all, and you shivered. You recognised that lust was probably not what you should be feeling at this time, but damn if you weren't turned on right now. 

As a matter of fact you had been quite... affected all evening. You liked Thresh a lot when he was still in his true form, but now that he had chosen this more human appearance, you liked him differently. Where before the only thing that could be understood from his skeletal expression was sadistic pleasure, there was so much more to be gleaned from his new human face. And fuck if it wasn't a handsome face as well! 

"Does that make you feel sad, Summoner?" he asked, as if you weren't actively anticipating what he'd do. Somewhere in your mind you realized you should feel bad about all these people dying to him, but you somehow couldn't emulate the feeling. You decided it had to do with that you were a Summoner, not an active participant in this world, just an observer. And not because your morals had become quite skewed. No, you had morals damn it, you were a good person... maybe.

"No." You told him honestly, "Not really. Honestly, I like to observe you in your element, so to speak." Damn, you were really honest, huh. Then again, these were your true feelings, and why would you hide them? After all, it's not like you didn't have sex with Thresh before, so you could afford to be a little open with your feelings. Probably.

Especially if you wanted to get laid again tonight. And this time he'd be in his unbound form. You couldn't help a small moan escaping you at the thought, and of course he heard it, closing the distance between you in a couple of his large strides. 

"You're quite desperate aren't you? Well, I suppose I can indulge you for a couple of hours." 

"Don't ask me to beg," you whispered as you were pushed down onto the slightly uncomfortable bed, memories of last time resurging in your mind, and you really didn't want to go through that whole power play ordeal again.

"I've already given up on your compliance, Y/N." he said with a sigh, pinning your hands above your head with one hand. He was, of course, still in control. You'd get him under you one day, for sure. But not now, not yet.

His hands were under your robes, mapping your body, and you sighed as you opened yourself to him. His gaze promised pleasure and pain, but you were accepting of it all if it came from him. Blunted nails dragged down your skin, down to your jeans that he swiftly unbuttoned. There was too much fabric between you and him, the cloak you had worn to hide your features lay discarded, but both of you were still dressed, and that was just no good. Your hands seemed to have a mind of their own, pulling at his coat, which he shrugged off as he kissed you forcefully. Breath became scarce, but he did not pull back as he slowly, oh so slowly, undressed you fully. The moment he finally pulled away, a wicked smile on his thin lips, you gasped out for air as if you were drowning just moments before. 

His fingers were on your thighs, holding you down with bruising strength, but you wished his fingers were elsewhere. You were throbbing under him, trying to invite him to you with your body, and he moved his head down, nosing your crotch. 

"Fuck," you cursed, the stimulation driving you insane as you heard him chuckle at your desperate reaction. 

"Still struggling with patience, I see," he said, chuckling more at your response to his hot breath hitting your weeping slit. "You have to learn, dear summoner, that all good comes to those who wait." 

"I am waiting," you ground out, "I am waiting very patiently right now for you to shut up and eat me out already." 

One of his eyebrows raised as he stroked your thigh gently before biting down on the tender flesh, making you yelp out. His thin fingers went back to stroking the irritated spot afterwards as you cursed and groaned at him. "There, there," he coo-ed, one finger running up your lips as you were held down from bucking up by his hand on your hips, nails digging into your skin as you couldn't stop yourself from trying. "Very soft and so very mouthy. I could break you with my pinky." 

You couldn't stop the words from tumbling from your mouth. "Then put those fingers of yours to use and make me fall apart, Thresh." This man was going to tease you to death, you were sure of it. A chuckle was your reply as he eased his pinky finger inside of you. 

"Well, is this what you wanted then?" He purred, knowing that there was no way you'd be satisfied with just that. "I'm not hearing  a thank you." 

"Oh, go to hell." 

"Already been there, dear summoner," he purred against your skin, moving up to bite at your stomach as you tried to keep your noises down. His voice dropped further to a threatening timbre and you shivered against your will. "And I'm willing to show you what it's like-" 

You barely had time to register those words as he suddenly stopped with a snarl, turning towards the door and freezing in his movements. You were about to ask him why he stopped, but before you could the door swung open violently. Two burly men stepped inside, followed by a woman skittishly looking around and closing the door behind her before checking the hallway one last time. 

A condescending whistle came from one of the men as Thresh slowly got up, turning their way as you scrambled to hide your naked body from their eyes. Luckily he had only taken off his coat, and he was free to face the two men that had invaded your privacy. 

"To what do we... owe this pleasure," Thresh said, voice low, but a smile was on his face, and it was slowly dawning on you that he had hoped for something to happen. Maybe not in the middle of your lovemaking, but the way his hands twitched by his side as if reaching for his hook and lantern told you he was waiting for them to make a move so he could pounce on his prey. 

"We saw something real interesting at dinner tonight," one started as he cleaned his nails with a large gleaming knife, "Didn't we, fellas?" He turned to the other man who chuckled, showing his own weapon as even the woman glanced their way and cracked a smile, before hissing a "hurry up" at them. 

"And what would that possibly be?" Thresh's voice was melodious as usual, but the edge of danger in his words made you shiver. His eyes were on them like the eyes of a predator on a prey, despite the fact that it was 2 vs 1, and it didn't seem like he had any weapons on him. 

"Don't play dumb, man," the second guy said, stepping to the left as the other guy stepped to the right, surrounding the warden who seemed unperturbed. "You're in the outskirts of Noxus, we don't go around giving golden coins out to random inn workers. No one unless they're not native and filthy rich. So hand over all your money old man." 

Thresh seemed to narrow his eyes at the mention of him being an old man, but it seemed to be out of humor rather than offence. A chuckle escaped him as he replied: "You're right, I am old, and I am not from around here... but had you known exactly what it is I am you would not have come inside this room so brazenly. It's honestly quite refreshing." The smile disappeared from his face. "However, you came at a very unfortunate time, as you can see. I am in a good mood, though, and I'm going to give you a chance to walk away." 

This was met with laughter from the men and another hiss from the woman telling them to stop playing around and just get the money before someone would come. 

"No one's gonna come," one man replied, "No one cares about a foreigner like this. He's only good for the money in his pocket... which will be ours soon. Now hand over all your money quickly before we hurt you, and no more playing big in front of your whore. We all know you don't mean it." At this statement you made an indignant sound, a "You wouldn't let those ugly pieces of shit insult us like that, would you?" on your lips, but before you could utter the sentence everything seemed to explode into action. 

The two men jumped forward with ill intent, weapons gleaming in the light of the candles and oil lamps, moving ever so quickly closer to Thresh' exposed neck who seemed to stand perfectly still. 

"Just kill him!" The woman snarled from the doorway, seemingly out of patience, and as the men did just that the sound of metal slashing and a loud gasp filled the room. You hadn't averted your eyes, not even for a second as you saw what happened almost in slowmotion. Thresh had stood still, taking the attack head on without moving an inch. And the blades had moved almost simultaneously, swiftly ridding Thresh of his precious head... or so they'd thought. At the realisation that the weapons had moved straight through his neck without any resistance the two men paled, moving in for the kill again and again as a low chuckle, barely even heard over the sound of the weapons clashing together, slowly rose in crescendo until a loud, cruel laugh was all that filled the room. 

"Oh, you are so dead." You muttered from the bed, seeing Thresh transform into his true form in front of your eyes, and knowing what the fate would be of the people in front of you.

...

"Dear Bort, there's life... there's death... and there's me," Thresh cruel voice came from the end of the hallway where he talked to the poor worker that had been bullied so intensely before. You could not see the warden's face from your place in the doorway, but the way his voice lowered to an almost threatening purr made an image of the man's expression spring into your mind all the same. Bort was the only one remaining after Thresh' killing spree, and you were glad for it. Unsure about his future under Thresh thum, but it would probably not be worse than the life he was used to... probably. It's not like he really had a choice.

A wry smile was on your face and you felt your heart squeeze painfully as you heard him agree, seeing Thresh transform his soul in front of you.

...

And back you were inside of the carriage. Now drawn by ghost humans instead of horses, but you didn't dwell too long on it, hearing Bort laugh and have a good time from his new place as the coachman. Thresh didn't even think about spending the night in the inn now that he was done with his business there, but as you sighed for the umpteenth time he finally addressed the issue of your... well, coitus interruptus. 

"I am quite satisfied," he said, the grin on his face as big as the moment he'd left the inn, and you gaped at him.

 "Well, I'm not!" Was your indignant reply, and honestly, there was no way he was either. He seemed pleased enough, judging by the expression on his face, but there was something down there that still required attention. You were sitting so close together in the carriage, your knees practically touching, and if you reached out just slightly... so that's what you did. A sly, tentative hand reached out for his thighs, the touch so soft and quick you saw his eyelids flutter just slightly at the feeling. You didn't voice that you knew he was lying, but moved your hand to his crotch where you found him very unsatisfied still. A small sound escaped you as your other hand joined your first, enjoying the texture of his pants under your fingertips as you ghosted your digits over his still throbbing erection. Your hornyness had died down a little, but came back full blown at the sigh that came from him as he opened his legs further for you.

You were thinking it was time to return the favour for him teasing you so much earlier. Deft fingers made quick work of his pants, and he didn't stop you from undressing his lower half entirely. His dick, almost strangely human now that he was in his disguise, was like you remembered it, except less... glowy and green. Without hesitation you ran a finger across the length of it, following a prominent vein from balls to tip, eyes on his face as he gave no overt outward reaction of his pleasure. But the way you noticed his eyes lose focus was enough of a tell for you to continue your ministrations. A finger became two, until you had your entire hand wrapped around the base, slowly moving up and down as you kept your eyes on his face. Pleasure soon enough made way for frustration as you kept up the snails pace, a grin growing on your face with every slow, gentle pump. 

"I see." He said as he opened his eyes. "This is payback, hm?" 

"Exactly," you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice as you tried to maintain your slow pace. You were absolutely soaked meanwhile, but you hoped you hid it well. If he realised how much you wanted him he'd take advantage of it. Your pink tongue peeked out to wet your lower lip, and you saw his eyes focus on it instantly. The grin on your face widened, as you slowly moved in to give a small kitten lick to the tip of his leaking member. 

He actually groaned your name at this, and you felt yourself practically leak a puddle on the floor. If you weren't fully dressed again you might have done exactly that, but now all you did was make an uncomfortable wetness spread in your panties, ruining the fabric and chafing your skin. You held strong though, moving in to lick the tip again before moving on to the vein you had so lovingly traced earlier. He twitched, and globs of precum dribbled along the shaft for you to lick up. His knuckles were white as he held tight to the seat, but his patience was running low.

"Enough," he suddenly barked, grabbing your hair tightly in a fist, pulling you up to his face and gritting out: "Your mouth or your cunt, which one?" 

Your eyes widened at this, but your mouth was faster than your brain when you cried out: "Fuck me stupid already! I've been dripping since that fucking inn!"

Barely realising you said this quite loudly and Bort had let out a small yelp from the other side of the carriage walls before minding his own business quite quickly, you were quickly manhandled onto Thresh's seat as he reversed your positions. This time you were undressed much more quickly than earlier though, while you only managed to get his coat off, again. He was already bare to you though, and the way he rubbed himself against your thighs and pussy lips was driving you crazy. 

"You weren't lying about being soaked." He commented between devouring your lips, "All this from some playing around at the inn and then servicing me?"

No response was given as you'd rather put your energy and focus into kissing back and wrapping your legs around his narrow hips, pulling him closer. He rubbed against your lips one more time, head catching on your clit as you mewled out for him to put it in, which he did. With a firm thrust he was all the way in and you gasped out with no sound, eyes unfocused as you took in his entire length. The speed and bumps of the carriage still speeding through the streets of Noxus made sure neither of you was able to stay still for long, the vibrations running through you both, intensifying the feeling as he started moving, grunting in your ear how fucking tight you always managed to be. He pulled out almost all the way before thrusting in harshly, pummelling inside of you as if his life depended on making you break. Unable to stay quiet, noises tumbled from your mouth until he covered your mouth with his hand. "Now we don't want the entirely of Noxus to hear what we're doing in here, would we?" He purred at you, punctuating his words with hard thrusts that made you see stars. "Violating Bort's ears is more than enough." Groaning you realised you could never face the man after this without feeling extremely embarrassed, but it was too late now. You tried to keep quiet, you really did, but even with his hand covering your mouth you were louder than you wanted to be, and you saw him sneer with every moan or high pitched mewl that escaped you. 

"Poor little soul," he purred, a little sigh escaping him as you tightened after a particularly well placed and powerful thrust, "Look at you, completely at my mercy and so, so drunk for me." His thrusts slowed a little as a devious plan formed into his brain. "Think you can hold out until we reach our destination?" 

The words registered slowly. "No please, I'm so close, we've waited so long already-" you cried out against his hand, but he wouldn't take no for an answer, slowing his thrusts significantly as your pleas were silenced by him. You had been so close, so close to release, and he took it from you swiftly, as you felt the burn inside of your core dim to smouldering embers. He finally removed his hand, and you took this to tell him how much of a piece of work he was. He took it with a sharp thrust that had you shut up quite quickly, stoking the flames inside of you ever so often as you climbed to your orgasm only to have him withhold it from you. Tears were starting to leak from your eyes, against your will, but you were just so frustrated, and you had been so close. Unsure if you were even able to orgasm at all after all the edging, his thrusting almost bordering on overstimulating now that your orgasm was ruined so many times. 

"How... far..."  you cried out, shivering against him as he chuckled and wiped away the tears from your cheeks with deceptive care. 

"Not very far, sweet soul. Hold on for me, will you?" 

You wouldn't be surprised if he just had Bort ride forever at this point; there was no destination, was there? Anger filled you as you grabbed the warden by his long hair, the ornaments digging into your palm as you pulled him close to your face only to hiss: "Enough now." He chuckled up a storm, but rewarded you with a finger against your clit, rubbing you quickly. 

"Ah, poor thing, wouldn't be good to break my summoner." He said as he picked up his pace, finally going back to the deep, hard rhythm he had before, "even though I'd love to." Was added under his breath, but at this point the carriage had slowed down, and you had held on admirably. Also he wasn't sure how long he could hold out either, your constant tightening around him after each ruined orgasm had him on the very edge as well, and he was too prideful to come before you. 

The carriage stopped, but no sound came from outside as Bort didn't speak until he was sure you two were done in there. 

"We're there," you cried out, almost delirious as you climbed again towards an orgasm that if he ruined it again would have you cry for real. "We're here, please, please, please-" 

The feeling inside of you reached crescendo as Thresh finally fucked you to orgasm, the feeling overwhelming you so much you were sure you ruined the carriage forever. "Fuck. Thresh."  You cried as you doubled over, eyesight going dark as your orgasm washed over you. 

Unable to hold on himself Thresh spend himself inside of you as well, letting out a sinful groan that would have you ready for another round if you weren't so absolutely fucked out. 

It was silent for a little bit as both of you caught your breath. You were absolutely exhausted, unsure if your legs could even carry you to where the carriage had taken you, so you just closed your eyes, hoping Thresh would do something about it.

"We've... we've arrived, sir." Came Bort's small voice from outside, and Thresh chuckled above you, slowly pulling out as you whined from the feeling.

"We sure have." 

[pridepages]

Philatos: The Song of Achilles

I just finished The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles is a classic in more than one sense. Any baby gay or ally looking for gateway LGBTQIA+ literature will inevitably find this book on every list (quite likely near the top). Its source material is classical greek poetry, and one of the most famous love stories of the mythology: that of Achilles and Patroclus. You’ve probably heard of Achilles and his infamous heel, Aristos Achaion, best of the Greeks. A demigod hero who felled mighty Trojan Prince Hector in the war for Helen--the face who launched a thousand ships and the tale of a war sung down the centuries.

You might be less familiar with Patroclus. He was, by his time’s standards, a nobody. Son of a lesser king who was exiled from his home, fully human and a shadowy figure who barely appears in the pages of Homer...but whose love changed the course of Achilles’s life.

It is said that only the love of Patroclus, and grief for his death, could spur Achilles to meet his destiny.

But there’s the debate: what kind of love was it exactly?

It seems strange after the success of Miller’s novel in popular culture that this is up for debate...but it technically still is. Search “Patroclus” in scholarly articles and you’ll find him identified as Achilles’s...friend.

His buddy. His pal.

Fucking. Yikes.

Some may say my insistence that their love is queer comes from my belief that everything is better gay. (Which...okay, yes, and I’m right!) But I’m gonna push back and point to one word:

Philatos.

This is a Greek word that Miller applies in her novel. One that was used between men in the ancient world. It means: ‘Most Beloved.’

It’s a loaded word, particularly when we consider homosexuality in the classical world which was...complicated.

People like to believe that history is as simple as: ‘the ancients were chill about homosexuality, it was only with the rise of certain religions--side-eying Christianity--that it became criminal.’

To which I answer: um...not quite.

Let’s be clear: it’s totally true that the immortal philosopher Plato set forth models that classified different kinds of love. And that one of them, eros, was desire so strong that it was akin to a force of nature. Plato theorized that eros could be harnessed and leveraged as a way to strengthen the bonds between soldiers, giving them better motivation to fight and thus making them more effective. 

For example, the Sacred Band of Thebes. You probably know them as the 300, but historians know them as 150 pairs of lovers! The best part? It worked! (At least for a while...but that’s another story.)

And how about Alexander the Great, who conquered most of his neighboring countries and amassed an empire of over two million miles? He had Hephaestion, his constant companion, of whom Alexander said: ‘He is me. I am him.’ So make of that what you will. (I’m gonna go with: gays get shit done!)

That sounds pretty straight-forward (so to speak), so what’s the problem?

Miller actually puts her finger on it in Song. As Patroclus tells us, “Our men like conquest; they did not trust a man who was conquered himself.” Let’s rephrase: being gay is chill...if you’re the top. If you’re not, then you’re the lowest of the low: Feminine. Weak. Disgraced.

I repeat: Fucking. Yikes.

So there were people then and now who would be perfectly ready to handwave away the bond between Achilles and Patroclus. They cry: why it gotta be gay? Why can’t the love of friends be enough? Why do you have to shove it down our throats?!

(I invite you to picture my eyes rolling all the way back.)

Let’s put this argument to bed: there’s nothing wrong with a love that is neither sexual nor romantic. (I see all my sibs under the aro-ace umbrella, y’all are valid!) The problem is when the existence of said love is weaponized to erase or deny other forms of queer love and make them lesser or shameful.

Because that’s what it comes down to: Honor. Reputation was everything to the ancients, and queerness put your reputation on thin ice. So much so that in Song, Patroclus even offers to hide their relationship so as not to endanger Achilles’s legacy: “Your honor could be darkened by it.” But Achilles won’t have it: “Then it is darkened. They are fools if they let my glory rise or fall on this.”

Miller saw this quiet, ever-present bond between Achilles and Patroclus in the pages of ancient texts. And she saw the unsung eros between them, the kind that drove the Sacred Band of Thebes to fight and Alexander to forge an empire. She saw how historians scoffed and dismissed it in a couple of lines to focus on the violent, tragic triumph of Achilles.

Rather than try and recast the great hero, she decided to tackle this relationship from another angle...she gave voice to Patroclus.

It’s a powerful choice to draw him from the shadows. Patroclus figures very little in the myth, and the one time he really does is when he’s disguising himself as someone else: he dies donning Achilles’s armor to rally the Greeks and rout the Trojans with the illusion that Aristos Achaion has returned to the field. One brave deed for an otherwise unremarkable life.

But was it?

Miller’s Patroclus is in many ways an everyman. He’s a mediocre swordsman, but a better healer. He’s the kind of guy who will remember your name and ask about your family, and make sure you have a comfortable place by the fire.

He’s perfectly content with his lot in life. All he really wants to do is tell you how much he loves his boyfriend.

It sounds like the stuff of ‘homeric fanfiction,’ as one boyfriend apparently scoffed at Miller’s work. (I hope she dumped him for it!) But it’s a pretty brave take for a spin on the myths. While Patroclus has respect for honor and glory, and would convince us that Achilles is the better man...that’s not the impression we are left with.

This isn’t a story of heroism by war. This is a story of the heroism of love.

Whether in a palace or on the battlefield, Patroclus’s life is defined by love. Of Achilles, of Briseis, of Chiron, of his homes, of his work, of his world.

This Patroclus says: Plato got it right. Love is what makes all of this--no matter how we live and die--a worthy endeavor.

And I think that’s what makes The Song of Achilles the philatos of queer lit. It both honors its roots, reading with prose that fits the poetic sensibilities of the Iliad, and challenges them. 

Ancient people and modern historians have something in common: an ongoing struggle to genuinely accept queer people and queer love. The Song of Achilles is a necessary book. One that bridges past and present. One that speaks softly but clearly, uncompromising in its demand that we allow gay people to be seen and honored in cultural memory.

In the words of another spin on the myths: “It’s a love song / It’s an old song / We’re gonna sing it even so!”

[naminethewriter]

How It All Began

Chapter Two: Living Legend

Masterpost | Previous | Next | Ao3

Story Summary: Remus, son of a simple fisherman, had worked hard to become the captain of his own pirate ship. And in his humble opinion, it was going great! His crew was small but reliable and they had just stolen something that could them some nice cash from a military vessel they happened to cross on the open sea. They just needed to hide it somewhere until it was safe to sell. How lucky for them that they come across a nice, uninhabited island.

Little did Remus know just who he would find on that little piece of land and how it would change his life entirely.

Content Warning: Innuendo, Reference to Past Trauma, Past Parental Death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Remus set off to the island again early the next morning. He hadn’t slept much, the sound of bones breaking upon hitting rocks bouncing around in his head the entire night. Instead of fruitlessly fighting his insomnia much longer, he got up with the rising sun, stuffed the box containing the seal into a satchel, found Sloane already up and about and dragged him along to the rowboat.

As he had done yesterday with Patton and Elliot, Remus left Sloane at the beach to look for a hiding place by himself, this time choosing an entirely different direction from the day before. He was looking for a spot that was easy to remember but hard to get to – he didn’t want to bury the box, because one, that was totally cliché and two, he really didn’t want to do all that digging – so a cave or hollow tree would be perfect.

It took him a while before he found an opening between two cliffs that looked somewhat deep. It was small and dark though, squeezing in there might not be the smartest move. Before he could even try, he was startled by a voice.

“You will not fit in there.” In a very reminiscent way, Remus spun around to face… the guy from yesterday? They stared at each other until Remus found his voice again.

“Wha- How? I killed you!”

“Falsehood. The injuries from the fall killed me, not your… bullet I believe they are called?” Remus just continued to stare at him in disbelief.

“Who the fuck cares how, you still died!”

“Indeed.”

“So how are you here? Are you a ghost? Am I being haunted?!” That thought honestly excited Remus a bit. He tried to look closer, maybe he could see through the guy now but nope, same as yesterday. Not even his clothes had changed.

“I am not a ghost. I died and then came back. I do not see how you are not understanding the situation.”

“Dead people don’t just come back to life!”

“That is true.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I am immortal.”

“What?” The man cocked his head to the side.

“Do you not know of the legends of Immortals? When I was young they were quite commonly told.”

“Of course I know the legends!” Remus sputtered. “If the Elemental Spirits find one worthy, they can grant even a human the gift of immortality like the sirens. But they’re just that: legends! Like I expect some random guy I shot on a random island to just come back to life!”

The stranger nodded in understanding as if this was a typical discussion topic and he hadn’t just turned Remus’ entire world view on its head.

“I suppose that is true. Though considering you are a man of the sea, I had expected you to have some experience dealing with sirens, so I am surprised this comes as such a shock to you.” Remus was once again at a loss for words. Sure, as many others had, he had hoped that the stories were true, that humans could gain immortality the sirens had from birth, but there had never been any proof. All accounts of supposed Immortals were dubious at best. The Elemental Spirits were known to dislike humans, even before they took over the lands and destroyed many forests. It was the main reason the seas were dangerous to travel, the Spirits would not let humans take more control.

For an immortal to be in front of him now… it was a dream come true! A switch flipped in Remus’ brain and his wariness of the stranger simply evaporated. Instead, excitement shot through every fiber of his being at the realization that the one thing he had feared was impossible for him to achieve was directly in front of him. A real Immortal! He got to meet a true immortal human being! A grin broke across his face and with quick steps he made his way over to the man who was now the one to look startled.

“That means you met the Spirits? The real deal? And they approved of you? You really can’t die no matter what??” Their faces were now inches apart. The man blinked at him, the sudden change in his demeaner had probably thrown him off, before he took a step back and cleared his throat.

“Yes to all of those questions. Unless the Council deems me no longer useful and revokes their gift to me, I will revive no matter the injuries.” Remus’ grin grew impossibly wide and he let out a loud cackle. Then he grabbed the man’s hand and shook it wildly.

“Name’s Remus, Pirate Captain, and you’re going to tell me everything right now.” The man eyes him for a moment before pulling his hand back and rightening his glasses.

“Logan, biologist and botanist. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

~~~

“So how long have you been immortal?” Despite only just having properly met the man in front of him – Remus, if he remembered correctly – Logan could already tell from the expression on the man’s face that he would not rest until he had answers to all his questions. His green eyes were wide open and curious, a look Logan knew he had often worn himself as a young child and lost sometime on his way into adulthood.

Regardless, if Remus was going to question him for hours, they might as well be comfortable.

“Before you start your interrogation, would you like to accompany me to my camp? I can make us some tea and we could sit while talking.” The other blinked, obviously not having expected the invitation.

“Yeah, sure! Whatever gets you into the mood, four-eyes!” He wriggled his eyebrows in what Logan could only guess was supposed to be a suggestive manner. He decided to ignore the innuendo.

“Then please follow me, it is not far.” Logan turned around and headed deeper into the jungle. He’d been on this island for almost ten years now, he knew every nook and cranny, no need for a compass. Remus followed close behind him with loud steps.

“You can answer while we walk though, right?” The pirate captain apparently was not a patient person but that was unsurprising. Over the years, Logan had learned that few of his kind were.

“Very well. You asked about how many years it has been since I have gained my immortality, correct?”

“Not in those words but yeah.”

“I can’t say with absolute certainty, I spend a lot of time alone so keeping track of dates is not something I do diligently, but I can estimate that it was around 140 years ago.” His companion whistled.

“And you’ve been here the entire time?”

“No, I have relocated a few times once my research concluded.”

“And then you just go looking for another place to do the same thing again? Sounds pretty dull.”

“It is anything but dull,” Logan responded more sharply than he had intended. “I do this work because I enjoy it, it’s what I always wanted to do with my life.”

“And that’s why you sought out the spirits? To give you more time to do your research?”

“I didn’t seek them out which is probably why they chose to accept me.” They arrived at his camp just in time for him to dodge the follow-up questions Remus surely had in mind. His home was quite simple, and he liked it that way. It was a clearing, small enough to still be mostly covered by the canopy of the trees above to give shelter from the simpler rainfalls but big enough to give room to move around in. He had set up a fire pit in the middle of the space with an old but durable cauldron held up by some sturdy branches above it. It was currently empty; he would need to fetch water from the stream nearby.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Logan motioned for Remus to sit on his bed which was essentially just a collection of moss on a flat stone but being blessed by the Spirits meant more than just gaining immortality and said moss was as soft as the finest mattress money could buy. His bed, along with a large chest containing his few sets of clothes, notebooks, and other personal items, was located underneath a naturally formed stone awning that kept him completely protected from the occasional storms. He stored most of his food supply in a cave not far away where the temperature and humidity were much stabler than out here, thanks to his blessing.

“I will fetch some water, if you know how to use flint to start a fire, I would appreciate the assistance. More firewood is over there.” It was a small stack of logs and twigs inside a hollow tree nearby. Logan grabbed his bucket, also wooden, and headed towards the stream. With his free hand he made sure that the key to his chest was still on his person. He shouldn’t be gone long enough for the pirate to pick the lock.

The babbling of the water always had a soothing effect on Logan. The gentle sound calmed him and he took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected Remus to react the way he had. He didn’t get visitors often, he never had on any of the islands he inhabited after making his deal with the Spirits, and when he did, he tried not to engage. He talked to Remus the day before since he feared the other could get hurt in a moment of carelessness and he had similar motivations earlier as well. The few others he had talked to before also met him with suspicion, in rarer cases with curiosity but most of those encounters ended with Logan’s death. Pirates were ruthless after all, and soldiers often assumed the worst of him. Merchants didn’t come to places like this.

So to have Remus believe him and be excited about talking to him was something new to Logan. And he was entirely out of practice regarding his social skills. His only contacts were Janus and occasionally Virgil but neither sirens were super friendly with him. And then there was his patron, a spirit of the earth on the Council, but he spoke to her only every few years.

Having a human in his camp? Exciting and worrying at the same time. He shouldn’t leave him alone for too long.

Logan took another deep breath before kneeling by the water’s edge and dipping the bucket into the stream to fill it up before making his way back. To his surprise, he found Remus actually crouching by the now lit fire, watching the sparks with a delighted expression on his face.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Logan nodded to him as he carefully filled the water from the bucket into the cauldron to avoid killing the flames accidentally.

“No problem! I’ll never say no to a bit of arson!” the pirate grinned at him.

“I see. Is that a part of the reason as to why you chose your profession?”

“Not really but it definitely was a plus! I just wanted to be on the seas, and being a merchant’s errand boy seemed boring, as did becoming a fisherman – I mean my father was one, so I knew it wasn’t exciting most of the time – and I was going to off myself before even thinking of joining the naval forces. Becoming a pirate was just the most fun in my opinion.”

“You are quite odd,” Logan commented after pausing for a moment. He meant nothing bad by it and judging from the grin on Remus’ face, he hadn’t taken it as an insult.

“So I’ve been told!”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking some personal questions. I am quite curious about you.”

“Wow, you’re blunt! If you wanna take this to your moss bed, I would be down!” The pirate captain wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Logan couldn’t fight the blush that spread across his cheeks.

“That was not what I was referring to,” he clarified after clearing his throat. Remus cackled.

“Yeah, I know. I was just messing with you, though I do mean that I am totally open to tango with you, if you did want to.”

“Please, let us get back on topic,” Logan sighed and the pirate seemed to understand that he reached a limit.

“To answer your question: I don’t mind you asking some stuff in return. Though if I don’t wanna answer something, I won’t. Of course, that goes for you, too. I’m not gonna be too nosey.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome! Now, tell me more about how you met the Council! They’re the big bosses of the Spirits, right?”

“They are a collective of spirits that act as a sort of government, yes. Most of them are older than we could possibly imagine. They keep the balance of the natural world.”

“That is so fucking cool! And how did you end up meeting them?” Remus was leaning very close to him, staring at his face with an intensity that made Logan a bit uncomfortable. Thankfully, the water in the cauldron was now boiling, so he could flee to fetch two cups and the tea leaves. He put the leaves in the cups, then carefully added the water before handing one of them off to Remus and moving to sit on his bed with his own. Remus followed but decided to sit on Logan’s chest instead, creating some much-needed distance between them – well, needed by Logan at least.

“I will not go into detail,” Logan started, staring at his cup while it brewed, trying not to dive too deep into painful memories, “but I was brought along by someone against my will. Why exactly they took me, I do not know, I was barely conscious, but I believe my captor thought having a sacrifice might be a good back-up plan if his meeting with the Council went sour. I don’t think he lived long enough to offer.” He chanced a quick glance up at Remus who was sitting eerily still as he listened.

“When I regained my bearings, I was alone with the Council. They asked me questions and I answered honestly. I was quite afraid. But they understood that I bore no ill intent and thus offered me a deal. A chance to do the research I always dreamed of doing, for as long as I wanted, as long as I shared my findings with the Council.”

“Why were they so interested in your research? You said you dabbled in biology and botany, right?” Logan nodded in confirmation, making Remus narrow his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t they already know everything you could find? They’re basically nature itself, right?”

“Yes, most of my findings are simply confirmation of what they already know. But nature is unpredictable and so there are some developments – mutations if you will – that even the Elemental Spirits aren’t aware of. Nature adapts and that can happen in many unexpected ways.”

“That’s so fucking cool,” Remus cheered, kicking his legs like a child. Logan smiled, glad to share his passion with another and receive a positive response. Even back during his studies he had rarely met like-minded people. He took a sip of his tea before asking the pirate a question he’d been wondering about.

“Do you have any background in academics? You said your father was a fisherman, did you receive any education? I’m afraid I am not knowledgeable of the current rate of literacy amongst the populace.”

“You talk funny,” Remus snorted. “But yeah, that’s fair, I guess. I did learn how to read and write as well as basic math but not much more than that.” Logan noticed one of Remus’ hands fiddling with his shirt at his chest but decided not to pry.

“Were you a special case or is that the standard education nowadays?”

“Standard, I think. I mean, I could have gone to school longer, but it wasn’t really my thing. Ro stuck around longer, but he was always the smarter of the two of us.”

“Who is ‘Ro’ if I might ask?”

“Roman, my twin brother.”

“Is he part of your crew?” Remus barked out a laugh.

“Fuck no. He’s too righteous for that. Nah, he’s a sailor, works for whoever will hire him last I heard. Well, not everyone. He stays away from any military vessels, we both learned young what shitheads they are.” By now, Remus was tightly gripping at his shirt and Logan couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer.

“What is under your shirt?” A poorly phrased question, he quickly realized. Remus looked shocked for a moment, seemingly not having noticed where his hand had wandered before a wide grin split his face and he leaned closer to Logan.

“If you wanna see me with my clothes off, you could’ve just asked,” he teased. Logan sputtered for a moment, face bright red, before he managed to protest.

“That is not what I was referring to and you know it!” The pirate leaned back and laughed loud and long. By the time he stopped, Logan’s blush had mostly receded.

“Sorry, that was just too good for me to pass up.” Remus wiped a tear from his eye. “But I guess it’s only fair now that I spill the tea.” Jokingly, he raised his still steaming cup, but placed it on the ground without letting any of the liquid escape. Afterwards he pulled on a chain around his neck, revealing a locket from underneath his shirt.

“This is a family heirloom of sorts. My dad had it made for Mom in place of an engagement ring since it was cheaper and they couldn’t really afford more. Later, he got another one made on Mom’s request so they could match. She said it made her feel better about sending him out to sea. Ro has the other one now and I kinda see where mom was coming from. Knowing he has the other makes me feel like we’re connected still.”

“That is a wonderful story, Remus. I am sorry if this is overstepping a boundary, but am I right in assuming your parents have passed?”

“Yeah.” The pirate looked solemn and Logan had to suppress the urge to grab his hand in support. “Ro and I were away; we were doing an apprenticeship to learn to sail on something bigger than a fishing boat. There was a pandemic in our hometown. By the time we heard and made our way back, Mom had already passed. Dad had managed to survive the illness, but it left him severely weakened. He was bedridden when we saw him. Told us that Mom said sorry she left without saying goodbye. That he was sorry he wouldn’t stay either. Ro and I sent him off. I never expected him to make it long without Mom, he basically worshipped her. If Ro and I had still depended on him he might have been able to pull through, but I guess he didn’t have much to live for anymore.”

“My condolences.” It was all Logan could think to say.

“It’s been a few years, I’ve come to terms with it,” Remus waved him off, though his smile was wavering. He put the locket back under his shirt. “Anyway, let’s switch to less depressing topics! How does reporting back to the Council work? Like do they summon you or something?”

“In very rare cases,” Logan explained, glad as well that they changed the direction of discussion again, “but most of the time they send a representative, usually two sirens that go by Janus and Virgil.”

“Sirens?!” Remus eyes were wide and he leaned closer. “What are they like?” Logan raised a brow.

“You’re a pirate. Surely you have encountered sirens before.”

“Nope, actually! At least not up close! We know better than to sail into their territory. I’ve seen some shapes that I think were sirens but I can’t say for sure. I always wanted to meet one!”

“You seem to be very interested in anything that has to do with Elemental Spirits.”

“Duh! It’s fascinating stuff!”

“I think so, too, but most see them as a bother more than anything else.”

“Yeah, I know. Really stupid in my opinion. Like they were here before us, we’re the ones intruding. They’re just defending what’s theirs.”

“I am glad you think so as well. I always found it incredibly rude how people talk about nature like it is something we need to fight instead of adapting to co-exist with it.”

“Exactly!” They smiled at each other, though Logan broke eye-contact when he felt his blush return. He cleared his throat.

“To answer your question about Janus and Virgil: they both are rather brash. Janus dislikes humans and staying on the surface too long, especially on sunny days. Virgil is skittish, and though he doesn’t necessarily dislike humanity, he fears us to a degree, so he’d rather stay away from the surface as well. He does come by occasionally to just chat which Janus is much less likely to do.”

“A siren fearing us sounds strange to me.”

“Well, as far as I understand it, there are Siren Hunters out there that specialize in capturing them. And siren scales are quite valuable, with their immortality and regeneration, if they are trapped, it is likely to end in torture for them.”

“Oh, I fucking hate the Hunters. Total dicks. Think they’re the shit, better than anybody else. Shot one in the head once, his face as he realized what was about to happen was so funny.”

“Please tell me more about your travels. I am quite curious to hear about the daily life of a pirate.”

“Sure! But you gotta tell me a bit more about your research too!”

“Gladly.”

~~~

They talked for hours about Remus’ life on the sea – even a bit about his childhood adventures with his brother – and Logan’s time as an immortal. Remus noticed that he avoided talking about his life before that for long, all he learned was that Logan grew up as the fourth son of a noble and after finishing his studies at his university didn’t get the funding for his passion project, so he worked as a navigator for hire to try and fund it himself. The pirate didn’t press him for more details than he was willing to give, they had only just met after all.

“I should head back to the ship soon,” Remus commented once he saw the sky turn orange through the canopy of trees above him. Logan startled, apparently not having noticed the passage of time.

“I apologize for holding you up for so long. Your crew must be worried.”

“It’s fine,” Remus waved him off, though he did get up to his feet, Logan close behind. “This isn’t the longest I’ve been away from the ship. They’ll send a squad if it gets dark though, so I should get back before then.”

“I agree, that is for the best. I would prefer the wildlife to remain as undisturbed as possible. Where is your ship? I can guide you back.”

“I mean, I got a compass, so I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I would prefer to guide you, it will be faster and again, it will cause less disturbances.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. We’re anchored on the south-western coast.”

“Very well, then please follow me.” Logan walked off, back into the jungle, and Remus hurried to follow him.

“Can I come back tomorrow? And bring a friend?”

“Just one?”

“Yeah. I’m sure the others would be curious, too, but Pat is the calmest one amongst them, as well as the one most interested in the topic.”

“Very well. If your supplies allow you to stay, I do not mind.”

“They should. I think.” Logan looked back at him with a doubtful expression. “I’m gonna check in with Pat on that to be sure, I promise. And I still need to hide this thing now that I think about it.” He gestured to the satchel at his side. Logan stopped and fully turned towards him.

“How big is it?” Remus pulled the box containing the seal out of the bag and showed it to the immortal, who looked it over once. “I believe I know a good place to store it. I can show you tomorrow.”

“That would be awesome, thanks.”

“My pleasure.” They continued on their way for a few more minutes until Logan stopped again, pointing further ahead. “We are not far from the beach, just continue straight ahead. I will meet you here again in the morning.”

“Got it, thanks, Death Defiant!” The nickname made Logan scowl, and Remus laughed as he jogged passed. True to Logan’s word, the captain soon broke through the tree line to a by now familiar looking beach. There was a rowboat pulled up on the sand but instead of Sloane, Remy and Emile waited for him.

“There you are, Capt’n,” Remy yawned. “We were starting to worry.” Considering that his First Mate sat on the beach leaned against his boyfriend, both wrapped in a blanket and looking very relaxed, Remus found that hard to believe.

“Yeah, yeah. I know I’m probably getting chewed out by Patton, let’s just head back.”

“Do we have to?” Remy whined, cuddling closer to Emile. “I don’t wanna move.”

“The captain has spoken, love, up you get.” Emile unwrapped the blanket and gently pried Remy off of him who let out another whine but complied.

“Fine! I was getting hungry anyway,” he pouted before climbing into the rowboat. Emile rolled his eyes at his dramatics but followed. Which left Remus to push the boat back into the water, but he managed it without much struggle. Remy and Emile were lighter than they looked.

Back on the ship, Patton indeed scolded Remus for remaining gone for the whole day and especially for leaving Sloane behind (Sloane himself didn’t seem to have minded it, actually).

“Did you at least find a good hiding spot?” Patton sighed, probably having noticed that he wasn’t getting through to his captain.

“Not yet, but I did find something far better,” Remus grinned. Patton tilted his head, looking like a confused dog. “I’m gonna show you tomorrow. Everyone!” he called, getting the attention of his crew that had gathered on the deck in preparations for dinner. “We’ll be staying here one more day! Or like half a day, we can afford that, right, Patton?”

Patton looked annoyed to be asked that after Remus had already made the announcement but nodded.

“Do we get to know why?” Missy asked.

“Nah, it’s a secret for now!”

“Figured.” The crew turned back to what they were doing before, all knowing better than to question their captain when he gets like that. Remus was so proud that they knew him so well.

“Now, let’s get some food, I’m starving!”

[aqueeracademic]

morse being queer (and other commentary) pt 15:

season 4, episode 3, “Lazaretto”:

- my expectations are really low for this episode

- the last episode was so aggressively gay i’m just assuming this one won’t be

- unfortunate but here we are!

- ew i hate hospitals

- i love old nurse uniforms though

- elite fashion tbh

- morse in a wife beater agenda ‼️

- of fucking course joan called him from a goddam pay phone

- i’m IRRITATED 🗣️

- my tv is glitching the fuck out

- fixed it!

- anyways

- the head nurse reminds me of the sister in fleabag and i always think it’s her but it’s not

- and that’s my story

- morse uses the same body language with debryn that he uses with women he’s attracted to

- i’m just saying 🤷‍♀️

- the way everyone looks at the parrot is so fucking funny

- we are barely ten minutes into this episode and we’re already headed to the armory

- NO BRIGHT NO

- anyone but bright.

- you can kill ANY CHARACTER

- bright killed a tiger tho i’m pretty sure he’s immortal at this point

- no because listen

- debryn is perfect for morse

- IM SERIOUS

- he comes to the hospital immediately out of loyalty to the precinct and also because he knows morse is there alone

- he immediately tells morse who is in the operating room and that the surgeon is talented and morse doesn’t have to worry

- and then promises to go see what’s what for morse so he doesn’t have to wear himself out

- and THEN he brings morse’s mind back to the case hes working on because he knows morse copes by working and wants to take his mind off bright

- debryn knows all the ins and outs of morse’s brain and respects every facet of him and works in favor of him every time without fail

- hes fucking perfect

- i love him

- everyone loves bright so much i’m sick

- the head nurse reminds me of the evil lady from chicken run

- i hate this lady caroline

- she didn’t really do anything wrong in this moment with morse but like

- you are the mother of the woman who broke morse as a human being and forever scarred his perception of love

- and then ur gonna brag about what her new man is doing? just to rub it in that he “wasn’t good enough” for her and still isn’t?

- despicable.

- i don’t even wanna promote the queer aspects of that even tho it would be easy to

- because that was just fucking cruel

- and morse deserved better

- it cannot be comfortable for bakewell to have his arm cuffed up like that for that long

- they should do it lower for sure

- justice for winnie ‼️‼️‼️

- i love her i just want her to be happy

- trewlove is so worried about bright

- bright and trewlove 🤞🤞 i love them

- “We were engaged to be married. And then we weren’t.”

- THIS is why morse is the most relateable fictional character ever to me personally

- because he SIMPLIFIES this sort of stuff

- he could tell the whole story

- say what transpired and why she left and what he did wrong or didn’t do wrong and who she’s with now and why he became a cop instead of pushing himself and being happy

- but he says this.

- we were and then we weren’t.

- because all human experience can be taken as that.

- we are and then we aren’t

- and it’s all very simple

- and despite all the pain he feels and all the ways it’s affected his life

- he knows it’s as simple as that

- THIS FUCKING SHOW RAHHHSHEKFOSK 🦅🦅🦅

- the way that nurse mills keeps side eyeing morse

- girl calm down

- the way morse runs 💀

- go morse go! 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

- thursday should not have left bakewell and i stand by that

- even though nothing happens someone should have stayed with him to keep him safe

- but noooo 🙄🙄🙄 thursday has to care about morse and make sure he’s okay

- morse just visiting debryn for fun at this point

- monica 🥺🥺

- JESUS THURSDAY

- slamming his head against the brick wall is so wild

- unnecessary some might say!

- perhaps even… police brutality!

- which you’ve been suspended for!!

- every time i start to like him 🙄🙄

- oh my GOD monica is so beautiful

- “treat the next one better.”

- GET HIM MONICA

- both of them avoiding the question “are you happy?”

- final straw

- the way thursday just hates having brights job

- it’s so funny

- thursday loves winnie so much i’m SICK

- i’ll prolly never get married but if i do i want it to be like them

- the way this show handles mental health issues is like

- actually not that bad

- like 8/10 times they do a really good job

- especially given the time period

- he’s a murderer and all but bakewell is funny as fuck

- “i get the uncontrollable urge to murder nosy parkers 😡. ta for the grapes 🥰🥰!”

- like ok??!

- funny as fuck

- that picture of joan is absolutely foul

- just throwing it out there

- “i had a reverse charges call from leamington.” “wasnt me.”

- i hate her right now

- i know i said i loved her like two posts ago but i fucking hate her

- like she’s intentionally hurting these people and doesn’t care

- like how does she just not care how much what she’s doing is affecting the people in her life?

- i know she’s traumatized

- but ONE phone call to ur parents wouldn’t kill you 🙄

- i have 0 understanding of how she’s blaming herself for the death at the bank

- they didn’t know who she was until he was already dead

- like girl get it together

- “i don’t care.” “i do.” “you shouldn’t.”

- GIRL SHUT UP ‼️‼️

- pissing me tf off

- anyways 😐

- bright is so 🥺🥺

- just a little guy tbh

- GIVE BRIGHT CHILDREN🗣️🗣️🗣️ (he’s like 80 years old do not give him kids)

- what is this trend of bringing grapes to people in the hospital? is that something i should be aware of?

- goddam morse’s ex is RICH

- the way that people don’t like dr. powell because they think he’s a ladies man but he literally just wants to be a doctor 😭

- let my man breathe!

- the way susan was sick TWO YEARS AGO and morse looks worried like it’s happening right now

- “have you spoken to susan?” “yes. i haven’t mentioned you.”

- girl shut your bitchass up

- sick and tired of your classist bullshit

- this guy talking to corpses is so 🤨🤨

- NO BAKEWELL‼️

- what the fuck.

- how on earth is dr. powell working from 7:30 in the morning until after 3 in the morning the next day

- how does he function

- stop 🥺 the way morse turns his back before strange opens the trunk and then just peeks over his shoulder to look

- he’s a fucking pussy 😐

- KIDDING

- i’m obsessed w him and i truly believe his inability to look at the deceased is his most endearing quality

- thursday cares about morse sm i’m SICK

- NAUR THEYRE PUTTING BRIGHT IN BED TEN

- morse talking to the parrot is funny as fuck tbh

- morse is obsessed w debryn

- how the fuck did debryn notice a microscopic wound on someone’s ass

- he’d have to be STUDYING that ass

- wild!

- anywho

- i love the way morse talks to debryn and debryn talks to morse

- just two geniuses bouncing off each other 🥰🥰

- trewlove OUT OF UNIFORM coming to visit bright is so sweet

- it’s like he has a daughter

- i’m obsessed ✋🙄

- okay i was wrong. powell is a terrible person!

- the nurses are dramatic asf tbh

- i cannot imagine real nurses behaving this way

- oh my god susan’s dad died

- this could be my breaking point!

- i also would love to point out the fact that morse insists on formalities in most if not all situations, meaning he refers to people as “Ms./Mrs./Mr. ____”

- but he calls susan’s mom “Caroline”

- just her first name and nothing else

- like he and susan were engaged to be married

- like he really loved her and she maybe really loved him

- like at some point her parents loved morse and took him in

- like they treated him like family

- like they were excited for him to marry their daughter and therefore let him call them by their first names

- like they were close

- like a family

- everything about what happened between him and susan HURTS and idk how to handle it

- also i FUCKING HATE CAROLINE

- “I’m so sorry.” “Are you?” “Yes, of course. Edgar was always very decent to me.” “Well, he always had a weakness for failures.”

- like YOUR DAUGHTER LEFT MORSE

- not the other way around

- i fucking hate classism

- there’s a whole other analysis i could do of this whole situation that would be about his queerness and how it could play into all this but i’m like

- i fucking hate caroline

- she sucks so bad

- like the way she tells him the CHIEF CONSTABLE RUPERT STANDISH said he would never amount to much

- which already is bullshit because of his involvement with landesman and wintergreen, meaning that he was involved with the group who intentionally sabotaged morse and are still attempting to now (he died in the neverland episode so it’s not him directly anymore but still)

- and then says “You didn’t even pass your sergeants exam!”

- which is bullshit because she doesn’t know what happened and he can’t defend himself because it’ll make it sound like he’s making excuses for what she’s interpreting as failures

- “You see, I was right about you, even then.” “When you speak to Susan please give her my condolences.” “And your love.” “No. No. Look, whatever you may think of me, I am truly sorry he’s dead.”

- the DISGUST on his face when she says “and your love”

- i fucking hate her

- and morse deserved better

- it’s obvious that what happened is still tearing him up even now

- and that’s why he’s so sensitive about people leaving him (jakes, joan)

- and why he will always assume people he’s in love with or carries any love for are going to leave

- i fucking hate this show ‼️‼️

- two female murderer episodes in a row i am running my hands together like a little mouse

- this girl is wild for killing that many people tbh

- morse hugging her instead of dragging her away ☹️

- he’s so gentle i HATE IT HERE

- thank fuck bright lived

- idk how i would have reacted if something happened tbh

- i cannot believe the only shot we get of susan is from the back 😐

- okay for you tarot kids!

- intersecting the tower card with the death card usually has a lot of negative meanings. it represents suffering, typically by means of illness or pain of some kind

- the death card is a typically pretty happy card despite the connotation, but when combined with the tower card it’s p shit

- the tower card usually represents suffering or destruction

- combing the two cards doesn’t bode well for morse and it’s our first intersection in the reading we’re getting at the end of these episodes!

- so far we have sacrifice, union, and now a traumatizing ending of something resulting in suffering

- things are not boding well for our boy!

[arugula2048]

(severe brain damage)

As much I enjoy(ed) SVSSS, some part of me will kind of always be sad that Ming Fan lost his teacher/role model/father figure when SY transmigrated and did a complete 180-turn (which, I get it, but still).

Iirc all the disciples were young teenagers/tweens when SY transmigrated? Obvs MF was at an age where he could’ve known better, but SJ’s influence on him is so understated. That dough-faced jock grew up under the care and tutelage of that severe and exacting teacher, becoming head disciple even when SJ generally favors his girl students more in every way, mimicking how SJ punishes LBH for no reason for like, approval. Maybe even bullying LBH harder for every academic fault that he himself has, as if to compensate, if I want to read into it even more.

Like man, can you imagine living as a mildly dimwitted child in a cultivation world where you have a shot at immortality and improved quality of life in almost every way than you could as a simple mortal, growing up in that world as a child & under the care of someone who’d rather get professionally slandered than say a nice word to anyone. And you’re (over)compensating for all the faults you have, just inherently as a human and as a child still learning how to live, and one day, the person who’s your everything completely drops you. Doesn’t really talk to you, ask after you, no more fucked up bully-bonding sessions over this one punching bag schmuck (who y’know, ofc MF has his own judgement, but everyoneeeee was bullying LBH) and rather, even a silent disapproval of all your actions thus far. Hypocrite!! I bet he fantasized about blowing up the peak at least 3 times.

In conclusion, Ming Fan was a stupid kid more suited to hollering at his goonies to pour gatorade on him after a “sick” comeback than being head disciple, but his growth was stunted by both SJ and SY, and he had to make the most of out of the mess that he made, under his mentors’ (lack of) guidance. He probably has daddy issues and abandonment issues under eight layers of defensive posturing. And I think that’s great.

[seiya-starsniper]

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - Chapter 2

Ao3 Link [Here]

Chapter Summary - The Corinthian and Hob have established a fairly comfortable relationship. But then it all comes crashing down.

Life in the Waking World is pretty interesting for The Corinthian these days.

His tongue still fumbles awkwardly around the differences in slang over the pond, he hates that the weather in London makes his hair fall flat on his face no matter what he does to it, and he misses Taco Bell like an old drug habit. 

And all of this inconvenience, he thinks, is for the immortal who’s currently asleep next to him, snoring something fierce right up against The Corinthian’s ear.

The Corinthian has never met anyone quite like Hob Gadling before. From their initial meeting, Hob has defied all of his expectations and then some. His immortality, first and foremost, should not have caught The Corinthian completely off guard, but it did. Hob doesn’t smell like other immortals, he tries his best to blend in with humans, to be average, unremarkable . To this day, The Corinthian cannot understand how the man pulls it off so well.

Especially because underneath that false unremarkable exterior lies a wild beast that may just be as ferocious and unrestrained as The Corinthian himself. He's clever and ambitious in all the ways a regular mortal is, but the centuries have allowed Hob to fully master the act of humanity. Hob has managed to bend the world to his will without showing his cards. It's performance art at its highest peak. It's a tenaciousness The Corinthian hungers for, something he realized he looked for in all his victims. The vivacity, that addiction to life and the willingness to, as they say, grab it by the horns and never let go.

It's why The Corinthian kept coming back time and time again, to test the bounds of that tenaciousness, instead of fucking off to do something else after his first few attempts had ended with him disembodied and transported back to The Dreaming. Having his corporeal form completely destroyed and then reformed hurt like a bitch, and he hated how long the rebuilding process took, but every subsequent trip back had left him wanting .

Lucienne had been less than impressed on his fourth trip back, he remembers.

"Ah, welcome back. I take it you've once again failed to eliminate your target,” she'd greeted, amusement barely concealed behind her glasses.

"Shut the fuck up Lucienne," The Corinthian had growled, already working on creating a portal to get him back to the Waking. It didn't take long. He'd gotten good at this with all the practice Hob gave him.

"You know Corinthian, maybe the Waking is trying to tell you something!" she yelled at his retreating back.

"Good thing I've never been good at listening." The Corinthian then gave her the bird on his way out to London.

Shortly after that, the cult happened. And then Hob had glimpsed his full face for the first time and The Corinthian was left gobsmacked by the desire radiating off of him. He's only ever been appreciated for his full appearance by one other being, and even so, it had never felt like this. It's delicious, it's dark and all consuming. It's everything The Corinthian didn't know he wanted, couldn't ever have imagined having, before that moment.

What started out as a simple revenge quest to stave off some boredom had suddenly turned to one of the best fucks off his life.

Afterwards, The Corinthian had tried not to make it a regular thing, but well, he's never been known for being a man who's able to reign in his vices. And Hob Gadling is such a strong vice he feels like the Original Sin itself. He doesn't flinch when the Corinthian bites hard enough to draw blood, leans into the blond's grip when choked, and the immortal will sometimes spend hours licking into his eye mouths while keeping three, sometimes four fingers buried knuckle deep inside The Corinthian.

When Hob wants The Corinthian to submit, and it's become a more regular thing, he takes and takes with brutal force, slamming his head into walls and twisting his arms just hard enough to leave a threat of dislocation. It's an echo of their old sparring fights, but Hob now knows The Corinthian favors his right side for an outright attack, his left for a feint. Hob also knows how much he loves those iron cuffs (forged by Hob, and made just for him), and loves testing the limits of their strength. It's the height of pleasure and pain that he knows neither of them have experienced with other human lovers.

And now here they are, playing domestic, where The Corinthian agrees to not murder anyone Hob doesn't explicitly approve of ahead of time, and in turn Hob spoils The Corinthian with anything he comes up with on a whim. 

Well, almost anything. 

"We are not getting a murder yacht,” Hob had said to him just the night before.

“Oh come on! It’d be so easy to get rid of the bodies with one!” The Corinthian argued back. “And the Channel will do all the cleanup for us!”

“Do you want to be on the radar of the British Royal Navy? Because that is exactly how you get on the radar of the British Royal Navy. Not to mention, I don’t know how to drive a boat, and I’m certain you don’t know either!”

The Corinthian does not pout on principle, but it’s an almost thing. Hob Gadling was a terrible influence.

“ He would get me a murder yacht,” The Corinthian declared, pointing to the television. Hob glanced at the screen and sighed loudly. 

“Hannibal Lecter is a fictional character , Cory,” Hob said, exasperated. It’s not the first time The Corinthian had brought up the comparison, and really, if Hob didn’t want to be compared to a fellow doctorate holding intellectual with a DILF vibe and a hobby of murdering criminals for sport, then he really shouldn’t have let The Corinthian run free with his Netflix account while he's off tending to lectures.

Speaking of criminal murders, though. The Corinthian glances at the calendar on the wall above Hob's nightstand and grins when he realizes tonight's the night for their next job.

—

“ Another sex trafficking ring, Hob?” The Corinthian groans. It’s the third one in a row. “I know you're a bleeding heart for the helpless, but I’m starting to think you feel personally responsible here.” He probably does, in all honesty. Hob had mentioned to him how guilty he felt over participating in the slave trade in the late 1700s.

“I thought you liked the sex traffickers!” Hob exclaims, surprised.  “Because there's always so many of them! You gorged yourself on eyeballs for days after the last one.”

“Yeah, sure they're great, but not so much when it’s what we go after every time . Where’s my corrupt CEOs, the drug lords, hell where’s another serial killer hiding, tell me, Hob!” Variety is the spice of life and while The Corinthian may be satisfied for now filling his palette with unrepentant humans, he still wants some flavor distinction amongst them from time to time. 

"All right, all right, I promise you get to pick the next target after tonight," Hob assures him.

"Can it be-"

“No- we are not going to kill a Member of Parliament. There’s murder of the irredeemable every day man, and then there’s assassination , and we are clearly staying in the first camp, love.”

The Corinthian really doesn’t see the difference. Dead people are dead people, but Hob’s the mortal in this relationship, so The Corinthian just shrugs and decides to think on who he’d like for them to go after next. He thinks he’ll consult his little black book on the matter.

Hob thinks it's ridiculous that blond keeps a hit list, but then if he didn’t want him to, then he shouldn’t have bought The Corinthian such a nice leather bound journal in the first place.

—

Much as The Corinthian hates to admit it (and he'll never do it aloud), Hob is right about the gluttony of hunting down sex enslavers. 

There had been at least six men guarding the shipping container that had come in to dock the night before. Two more are in charge of negotiating the handoff, and still another three show up as drivers to transport their "cargo".

In short, it had been a blood bath. None of the men had ever stood a chance.

The Corinthian doesn't quite have a stomach, so he doesn't get full, per say, but there does come a point where there's diminishing returns on the enjoyment he feels the more he eats in a single sitting. 

For occasions where he hits that point, like tonight, Hob has acquired an extra refrigerator. It's an antique red monstrosity that the immortal had flown in from a shop in Oklahoma just because The Corinthian had complained one time that English kitchens were too drab for his tastes. The blond had made fun of Hob's peasant roots at the start of their relationship, but Hob is no peasant now. It’s another one of the ways the immortal is sin-incarnate, his willingness to indulge The Corinthian’s hedonism at the drop of a hat is both endearing and addicting. The Corinthian has more than enough mortal money of his own, but there’s just something extra enticing about spending another man’s wealth on unnecessary luxuries like this.

Sometimes, The Corinthian will wake to the smell of cooking flesh, and he'll find Hob has fried a pair of eyes for him in his homemade garlic butter. He'd then spend the morning hand feeding them to each of The Corinthian's eye mouths, before handing him a cup of black coffee. It’s domestic. It’s overindulgent. The Corinthian thinks he'll ask for them to be mixed with scrambled eggs tomorrow instead.

–

"I’ve got a surprise for you," Hob says once they've wrapped everything up at the docks. He stamps out the last bit of his cigarette before continuing. "Call it a bonus for a job well done."

"Dessert? You spoil me, baby," The Corinthian grins, unable to hide his excitement. Hob is good at surprises. So far, The Corinthian has yet to be disappointed.

The brunette drives them over a few bridges to a different shipping port on the other side of town. He makes sure that there’s no one on guard before he leads them over to a particular container, which he unlocks and leads The Corinthian inside. There's a few lights strung up on the inside, enough for The Corinthian to easily look at his prize.

Near the center of the container is a single man tied to a chair with a bag over his head. He sounds like he’s gagged underneath the bag as well. The Corinthian cannot help the little gasp of pleasure he lets out when Hob pulls the bag off.

The man is dressed in a three piece suit that was probably freshly pressed a day or two ago, but now sits wrinkled as a result of futile struggling. He’s got multiple layers of duct tape over his mouth, as expected. The Corinthian also clocks a newer Rolex model on the man’s left wrist barely hidden by a sleeve pinned together with solid gold cuffs. He looks like he would be incredibly well groomed if he weren’t currently rotting in a shipping container, with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes that are now comically wide as he takes in his two captors. The man cannot be more than 28 years old at most, which just screams Daddy’s Boy to the Corinthian. It’s his favorite type of meal.

“All for me, baby? You shouldn’t have.” The Corinthian purrs, and he can feel his eyes drooling at the sight, the smell, the exquisite taste, of the man’s fear. 

“Only the best for you, love,” Hob murmurs in his ear, hands resting possessively at his hip, voice dripping with pleasure. The Corinthian shudders when Hob delicately removes his shades and places a tender kiss to each of his eye mouths, dragging his tongue along their teeth. They come to life under his attention, all soft sighs and heavy breaths. The man in the chair is now thrashing wildly in horror, his screams muted by the tape.

“His name’s Thomas Mason, Hob supplies. "Father’s done pretty well for himself in the United States, but he insisted on his kids being raised in the home country. Tom here is a little bit of a brat you see. Awful student too, he's been kicked out of at least three universities in London." The Corinthian snorts at the blatant offense Hob seems to take at this fact. 

"Knocked up some poor girl when she was far too drunk to fully consent at a networking event," he continues. "And then he killed her when she told him she wasn’t going to abort. I have it on good authority that he’s buried her out in his mother’s country house. Naturally, Scotland Yard isn’t really looking into it since she was here on a student visa and his parents have more than enough money to make it look like she just got up and disappeared out of the country on her own. Her family’s absolutely distraught."

"Distraught, you say?" The Corinthian asks in mock concern. "Well, we can't have that now." He takes out his knives from their holsters in his jacket, and now the man in the chair is moving even more wildly in his chair, trying to tip it over, maybe hoping to break it and free himself. It won't matter, there's nowhere to go in the tiny container. The Corinthian cuts a line through Tom's throat to get him to stop thrashing and then begins to start the task of carving out those gorgeous blue orbs. 

The start of the task is always the hardest. Humans are so sensitive when it comes to their faces, but they all give up soon enough, and Tom is no exception. It’s all in the thumbs, really. Once they’re sufficiently popped out, all The Corinthian has to do afterwards is sever the optic nerve, and bam, instant snack. Hob had winced the first few times he watched The Corinthian had done this while the victim was still alive (their memories are freshest when he does this, even if he stores them in the fridge for later), but now he watches with rapt attention, unable to tear his gaze away from The Corinthian's skilled yet brutal movements.

When he’s done, The Corinthian savors the taste of Thomas Mason’s eyes, drinks in the memory of hands choking the life out of a pretty little thing too young to be taken from the world, then revels in the feel of the cool dirt underneath his fingernails during the memory of her crude burial. 

“She’s buried right by the rose bushes, near the west wing," The Corinthian says, and Hob’s proud, dark grin tells him he will, in fact, be getting breakfast in bed tomorrow morning.

–

They don’t argue often, but when they do, it always comes back to the same topic. The Corinthian doesn’t even know how or why they started talking about Dream, but he hates the way Hob prods about their relationship, asks about why everything fell apart and led The Corinthian to permanently leave The Dreaming.

“It's better the less you know about him,” The Corinthian says with a finality he hopes Hob will understand.

He doesn’t. "Why?” he presses. “Because you don't like talking about him?"

"Because he's dangerous!" The Corinthian snaps. "He tried to unmake me almost a hundred years ago, and if he ever gets out of his cage and finds out about you…"

"You're worried about me, pet?" Hob’s tone is light, but The Corinthian knows he’s trying to distract him from the threat of Dream’s return.

"Well you're not exactly the pinnacle of human safety if we’re being honest, baby." The Corinthian grumbles.

"I’m immortal, can’t die, remember?" Hob quips in response.

"Right, right, immortality from your eldritch Stranger that broke your heart," The Corinthian sneers back at him.

"Oof, low blow, Cory," Hob winces.

The use of the nickname cools his anger slightly, but only just.

"Is it?" he challenges. The Corinthian is not an open creature by nature, but Hob is also sensitive about his centennial Stranger. He claims he's told The Corinthian all that he knows about him, but The Corinthian finds it hard to believe that Hob had been meeting the same being for 600 years and somehow, inexplicably, does not even know his name. Then again, The Corinthian has not told Hob the name of his creator either. He doesn't know why, but the knowledge of Dream's name is something he wants to keep to himself.

Hob also won't talk about why he and his Stranger had a falling out either. He just knows the creature missed their 1989 meeting, and now Hob has no choice but to wait for 2089 to see if their relationship can be salvaged. The Corinthian, petty creature that he is, still refuses to set foot inside The New Inn, a place dedicated to someone else. He does, however, relish in the fact that shortly after he moved in with Hob, the immortal had begun to spend less and less time in the pub, possibly hoping for an earlier than 100 year sighting of his Stranger.

"All right, all right I get it," Hob placates, and finally throws up his hands in surrender. "No more creator talks, and no more stranger talks tonight, all right?"

"Or we could forget about them all together," The Corinthian tries, wishing to never speak about Dream ever again. Dream's gone, he's trapped, has been trapped for 100 years, and yet The Corinthian feels him at his back each night when he turns off the light and watches Hob sleep.

"Hmmm, I don’t think so," Hob says, thoughtful. "I can’t forget my old friend, yes he’s my friend damnit,” the immortal insists. “And even with your creator locked up who knows where, because you won't tell me, I know you can’t forget him either. And that’s okay. We don’t need to talk about them now, but a relationship is about moving on from past baggage so we’ll need to get there eventually, but it doesn’t have to be now, love.”

"I’ve tried for at least two millennia to move on already," The Corinthian admits, surprised at his own openness.

Hob smiles fondly, because he knows even getting that much out of The Corinthian is better than nothing, and then cups the blond's face gently between his hands. 

"Well, you’ve never had me before, darling.” Hob says, tone back to reassuring and gentle. “I can’t promise to heal all your wounds and scars, but I’m going to do my best to love you as you are, murderous tendencies and all. And if your creator ever does get out of his cage, we'll deal with him together."

The Corinthian, even after spending years in Hob’s bed, is still not used to hearing the immortal declare his love for him. Hob offers his love far too easily, and he hasn’t even asked why The Corinthian has yet to say it back. He almost does, just now. It's on the tip of his tongue.

"You’re insane, you know that?" The Corinthian says instead. He’s not ready to inspect his feelings, not yet, not while he’s still taut as a piano wire. 

Hob nods, like he knows what’s going on inside The Corinthian’s head, and maybe he does. "Well, you don’t live past the normal mortal expiration date without losing a few screws along the way," he says, and starts tugging The Corinthian towards the bathroom. “Come on love, let’s have a bath. I’ve got a new vintage I’ve been wanting to try out."

Later, when the Corinthian is drunk and spilling wine all over Hob’s overly large and posh bathtub, he thinks that maybe, maybe, this is probably what love is supposed to feel like. They're kissing like Hob doesn't have to get up in the morning for a lecture, and the slowness of it stirs something familiar inside the nightmare.

He thought he'd loved Dream once, until he realized that his creator's affection for him had been conditional on The Corinthian fulfilling his singular assigned function. No room for growth, no room for ambition, for reaching past the limits of the Dreaming. All of the reverence and blind worship had evaporated then. Dream only cared for himself and his stupid rules, his creations were simply there to serve him without question.

Hob is different though. Hob has rules for him, sure, but he indulges The Corinthian when he's done well, negotiates when the situation calls for it, and he doesn't make The Corinthian's thoughts and opinions feel less than, like secondary, unimportant things. He also doesn’t hold The Corinthian’s past crimes against him.  

Yes, The Corinthian thinks when Hob finally pushes his cock inside him, slowly, gently, lovingly. What he's got with Hob is probably love. Or at least as close to it as he'll ever get with his nightmarish heart.

He'll tell Hob. Eventually. When the time is right.

–

Their next operation goes tits up.

Statistically, even the best laid plans can go awry when murder is involved, but The Corinthian supposes they really should’ve anticipated a mob boss having more than a dozen men for backup, even if he was just vacationing out in the countryside. 

Good thing neither Hob nor the Corinthian can die. Hob’s healing is not nearly as quick as his, but it’s quick enough.

The Corinthian imagines Hob must look like something of an eldritch horror to the mob men when he gets up off the ground, an entire chunk of face missing, and then stabs his shooter in the neck. The resulting blood spray is lovely, and The Corinthian takes a moment to bask in Hob's handiwork before he continues to gun down the rest of their assailants.

God, he's missed having access to guns. The Corinthian has a small collection of antique rifles in his penthouse back in the States, and though he's never used them for more than target practice, he likes the heavy weight of such a small and unassuming thing that holds so much potential for death, resting in his hands. 

Using other people’s guns against them though? That’s an entirely different feeling, one that The Corinthian is all too happy to indulge. 

All total, there’s around 25 men dead in the villa after Hob and The Corinthian are through. More than double the amount they expected to be here. The Corinthian makes a note to pay a visit to his source later to personally thank him for the terrible intelligence. 

“Hey Cory, look what I found!” Hob’s voice sounds throughout the otherwise quiet room.

When he locates the immortal on the other side of the bloodied living room, he sees that he’s thrumming with excitement about something. When he gets closer, Hob holds up a mostly mangled piece of flesh that the Corinthian quickly realizes is the part of Hob’s face that was blown off with a rifle. Surprisingly, the eye socket is fully intact.

It’s the most beautiful thing The Corinthian has ever laid eyes on, and he wants.

Hob then offers the lump, eye socket and all, to The Corinthian with a pained grimace that he looks like he’s trying very hard to pass off as a smile. The Corinthian is too shocked to take it right away. It can’t possibly be that easy. 

Can it?

Hob notices his hesitation and sighs. 

“Might as well have it, it’s a goddamn miracle it’s even intact the way it is,” the immortal grunts. “I can already feel a new one growing in, and let me tell you, it fucking hurts. Waste not, want not and all."

The Corinthian knows that he shouldn’t think too deeply about the gift, it’s borne out of circumstance rather than intent after all, but the irony of being freely offered something he’d spent years trying to carve out of the man’s face himself is not lost on him.

The Corinthian gently takes the eye from Hob and cuts around the tender flesh, then pops the ball into his mouth.

The memories hit him like a monsoon. 

The Corinthian has consumed hundreds, perhaps thousands of eyes at this point in time, but consuming Hob is an entirely different experience.

Hob's eyes have, by default, seen far more than a regular mortal, and so there’s just more, more, more to be seen and more to be experienced. It feels neverending.

He feels Hob’s determination to never die, even in the days before he was granted immortality. His surprise when he realizes that he's stopped aging. His fear at thinking he'd made a deal with the Devil himself.

He sees the immortal's warmest memories, feels the touch of his first silk shirt, hears the sound of his son's first cry, tastes the flavors of his first meal after being dubbed a knight.

He also witnesses Hob's worst memories, the horrors of war over the centuries, the stabbing pain of hunger that would have killed another man, the smell of decay from the bodies lost to The Black Plague, the pain of each and every time his body breaks but doesn't die.  

But above all, he feels love. Pure, unfiltered, unconditional love. Love for humanity, for his long life, love for The Corinthian himself.

Love for his mysterious Stranger.

The Corinthian chokes when he realizes who this stranger finally is.

It’s Dream.

Of course it's fucking Dream.

"Cory? Are you all right?"

No he's not fucking all right. Nothing is ever going to be all right again. The Corinthian has never needed to breathe but in this moment he feels like he is suffocating.

Hob is Dream's pet immortal. The one that Death had spared on a bet with Dream back in 1389.

The Corinthian thinks he's a fool. That's why Hob doesn't smell like other immortals, because he smells just like Endless, like The Corinthian, like Dream .

He also knows now that Hob was telling the truth about not knowing Dream's name or what he was all this time. Dream's always had a stick up his ass about personal information, the only reason The Corinthian even knew his creator had a pet immortal in the first place was because The Corinthian had tried to follow his master out into The Waking once, back when their relationship was still good, when Dream still indulged him, when The Corinthian hadn't yet begun to hunger for more.

Dream had shut him down so fiercely, Lucienne had had to step in on his behalf. She was the one who filled The Corinthian in on the date and its significance to their creator. And, most importantly, that Dream went to these outings alone.

It had been the first time The Corinthian had experienced jealousy, and it had ignited a fire in him he did not know how to tame. Why did Dream get to go into The Waking for nothing more than his own pleasure? To experience humanity when his own subjects could not? Who was this human who had impressed him so much, had captured his attention enough that he stole his creator away from the Dreaming, time and time again? None of Dream's other human companions had ever been able to sway him so.

It makes sense to The Corinthian now that the human was Hob. The Corinthian devours the memories of their meetings, quick snatches in time, insignificant in length yet so significant in substance. He doesn't know if he wants to tear Hob's throat out for daring to call his Dream his friend , knowing now that it means something more, or if he wants to cut Dream's eyes out for the way he looks at his Hob.

Fuck. When had he gotten so possessive? When had he gotten so soft ? He'd been thinking just a few days ago that maybe he loved Hob, had been picturing the rest of their life together, had been thinking of their future .

If he'd known this would be the consequences for consuming Hob's eyes…

No, he still thinks he would've done it anyways. Even in his panic, the taste of Hob is so unique, so unlike anything he's ever experienced, The Corinthian thinks he could probably go on forever without having to consume another set of eyes. That thought terrifies him more than the idea of Dream hunting him down to unmake him for all his crimes.

He has to leave.

"I have to go," The Corinthian says, perhaps a little too forcefully. Hob nods quickly with no argument. It means he’s already realized something is wrong. 

"All right we can go, I just gotta make sure the cameras-” 

"No," The Corinthian interrupts and he says it with such venom that Hob whips his head towards him in alarm. The Corinthian steels his nerves for what he’s going to say next. 

“I need to go, Hob. This…this was a mistake. All of this.” He gestures between them. 

"Wait what?! What are you talking about?" Hob's beginning to panic now and The Corinthian can feel his resolve weaken. But he has to go. He’s been a fool, no, he's been willfully blind this whole time. He thought he’d finally found something, someone that was uniquely his , but all roads lead back to Dream, and The Corinthian feels pathetic for thinking he could ever escape the reach of his all knowing and all encompassing master.

Hob may love The Corinthian now, but he was Dream's human first, and Dream will not take kindly to the Corinthian touching what doesn't belong to him. The Corinthian thought he'd been afraid of his unmaking before, but it feels secondary to this new fear. The fear that Dream will go to Hob, that Dream will spill all The Corinthian’s crimes at Hob’s feet, will turn Hob against him, and then finally, steal him away for his own. 

He'd rather burn down the only good thing he's ever known than let Dream take it away from him.

“Goodbye Hob. It's been fun but now our time's up.” The Corinthian does not stutter.

Shit, he can feel the tears. His shades hide them for now but if he doesn't leave now, then Hob will see.

“Cory, wait! Talk to me, please , what's going on…?"

But The Corinthian is already gone.

[narrators-journal]

Prompts on drawings I see: Xeno and Stan argue that turns to banter to flirting. Xeno at one point decides to pretend to act like Stan to prove a point even to go as far as placing a cigarette in his mouth but Stan just finds it amusing getting closer to Xeno till both cigarettes touch tips and Stan smirks and says something witty ant which point Xeno's face softens and who is he kidding he can't stay mad at him. But maybe just a little.

This was very cute, I had a lot of fun writing it! Thanks for the prompt dude,

          "I swear, Xee. You worry more than my mother ever has," Stanley Snyder muttered, wincing when his best friend pulled the bandage he was using to tend to his hunting wound tighter.           "You said you wouldn't get yourself hurt. Now look at you." Xeno Wingfield huffed, "You said this was a routine outing," The sniper rolled his eyes,           "It was, all I got were some scrapes and light cuts. You just bandaged the worst of the wounds." He pointed out, getting a dark glare from the coal-colored pits that were his friend's eyes,          "I fucking hate you."          "You do not." Xeno only responded with a punch to Stan's hurt arm, forcing him to wince again,           "I've told you before, you're too important to lose. Especially not to fucking infection or stupidity!" That got another eye roll from the soldier, who used his good arm to fish a cigarette out of the cloth roll he kept them in, just before Xeno snatched both from him and threw them against the wall, "Are you even bothering to listen to me?!"            "Not when you're like this, no." Stan admitted, meeting the fiery glare given to him with a simple half-lidded, nonchalant look of his own, "I'm not gonna drop dead from an infection. You wouldn't let me."            "Oh yeah, because I have all of the drugs and medicines of modern times. And no bacteria have evolved and developed in the millions of years humanity hasn't been around." Xeno snapped back,            "Do you really think I'd let myself die though? Come on, Xee, I'm not that easy to take down." Stan reminded him, watching the scientist's lip curl into a snarl at his arguments.           "You're not immortal though! And I refuse to let your demise be to some pathetic cut!"

Stan just rolled his eyes again, getting up and going over to pick his cigarettes up, ignoring Xeno continuing to try killing him with a glare.            "Quit brushing me off! Or you'll be sleeping outside," The scientist snapped, finally getting a reaction out of Stan outside of an eye roll.            "Quit being so aggressive and I'll stop. Because, right now all I hear is you being a worrying mother hen with a bad attitude." He pointed out, and while Xeno obviously wanted to argue more, he didn't say anything for a long moment, "Now, I'm not gonna die, from a cut or otherwise. Quit worrying."

This time it was Xeno's turn for an eye-roll,            "Oh, yeah, because being a marine makes you invincible." He snarled, grabbing the cigarette roll from the man, pulling a cigarette out, and putting it in his mouth before beginning to walk around the room like Stan does, "Look at me! I'm a toxin-inhaling Texan! Nothing can take me down!" The scientist mocked in a good, but not flattering impression of the sniper's voice while continuing to strut about. Stanley had to put his hand over his mouth to hide the small grin he could feel tugging at his painted lips.

For a moment longer, he watched his childhood friend continue to mock him with exaggerated boasts,           "Y'know, you make a very cute version of me," He hummed while lighting his own cigarette, making the scientist halt his mockery and glare darkly at him,          "Don't change the subject! I'm still pissed at you!" Xeno reminded, making Stan put his hands up in surrender,          "Alright, I get it. I'll try not to get hurt again." He finally relented, finally seeming to soothe the scientist before he strolled over to the pale-haired scientist to loop his arms around him and lean forward until the lit cigarette he held was pressed to the one Xeno still kept in his mouth. When it began to smoke, he leaned back and grinned, "Now, can I maybe stop getting nagged? If you're feeling mouthy still, I can think of a use for you~" Xeno responded by spitting his own cigarette at the soldier,           "Fat fucking chance. You have two hands, use one." With that, Xeno shoved Stan away, making him groan, "Oh come on! I got hurt, don't I deserve some TLC?" The scientist snorted, "Go ask Luna, I'm not doing shit for you." "Cruelty! All you give me is cruelty, Xee!" the sniper whined, but Xeno simply left him in the room alone.

[casspurrjoybell-31]

The Consort - Chapter 29 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Brayden

"Fuckin' pathetic sight if I ever saw one," Jacques mutters.

"Hmm."

"You think they'd be grateful but no. They have to stir up their shit and for what?"

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, holding his hands up and twirling around in a bold, grand gesture of disgust.

The stagnant air whirls around him.

A single newspaper clipping tumbles along the uneven cement.

Just a week ago this air still smelled of humans, of life.

Now this side of town is nothing more than a whimpering memory, drowning in the sorrow of yesterday.

"For this?" he asks, laughing coldly under his breath.

"And where are their brave leaders now? Probably pissing in their pants and hopin' the world don't swallow 'em whole."

"Not all humans wanted this revolt," I respond coolly.

"But when their fellow man came rapping at their doors requesting for their support, what other choice did they have?"

Jacques lets out a sinister laugh.

"They could have told 'em to fuck off."

I hum under my breath again.

Jacques eyes the flitting newspaper and gracefully runs towards it before catching the edge with his sharpened fingernails.

His glowing red eyes dance across the article.

When he's finished, another sinister laugh leaves his lips.

"'Tip Number Five to Escape a Vampire,'" he reads mockingly.

"'Spray them with salt water.' Salt water..." he cackles and tosses the paper back into the street.

The two of us watch it fall back into Nature's whispering wind, passing along the broken cement without pause.

With his back turned to me, Jacques runs a hand through his long, billowing blond hair and lowers his voice.

"Is it true?" he whispers.

"That you're under the protection of a Nirv's blood?"

I clear my throat, refusing to allow this meeting to drag on longer than it already has.

"I didn't call you here for idle chit-chat," I respond to Axel's former follower.

"I came for answers."

Jacques swirls around to face me.

His soft features are striking, their appearance not aging in the slightest from the last time I saw him hundreds of years ago.

"Axel's group has invaded human land," he answers after a long pause.

"They have managed to overtake the north and the east. They have not yet traveled west or south."

I nod.

"And the other immortals?"

Jacques smiles stiffly.

"Some have joined Axel's group. A number of others have followed a step or two behind, picking off or capturing the human stragglers. The remaining, small group have stayed in the Village, hoping to wait out the war."

Axel's group is traveling fast.

I had hoped that without their leader, the pack of hungry and vicious immortals would slow.

They've already overthrown two pieces of human land, however.

And from the looks of it, their momentum is far from slowing.

Jacques' information proves useful, nevertheless.

If what he's saying is true, the safest place for Finn and the others is the heart of the human towns already abandoned, starting in the north.

"And the humans?" I ask evenly.

Jacques shrugs.

"You fought beside Axel. Nothing has changed now that he's gone."

Some of my first memories as a vampire were spent capturing and draining countless humans of their blood on account of Axel's orders.

His bloodlust was unending.

His war tactics were simple and his message was clear, vampires were above humans and should be treated as such.

"Though unlike his old group of soldiers, this group does find it a bit wasteful to consume their food so soon after capturing it," Jacques adds, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully.

"So they're holding them hostage?" I question.

He nods.

"The ones they like the most are kept as prisoners, to feed them whenever they please."

I slide my tongue along my teeth.

There aren't many immortals who choose to act as radically as Axel and his followers.

Then again, after being starved for months on end, many of those immortals have changed their thinking. Jacques reaches out, patting me on the arm as if in condolence.

"I know you're against this war, Brayden old friend."

"Do you?"

"You've always had a soft spot for humans," he laughs.

"But times are changing."

"I hadn't noticed," I reply dryly.

Jacques laughs again, his devilish cackle stirring up nightmares within this scarred town.

"Tell me," I whisper once his laughter has died down.

"If a farmer's cow refuses to return to her stable, how should it be punished?"

"The fuck we talkin' about cows for?"

"The farmer could slaughter the cow, of course," I say, staring into the distance.

"To make a point to the other cows. Or he could get selfish and after tasting the meat from one cow, slaughter all the others in an act of haste."

Jacques frowns and I take a step towards him, glowering fiercely.

"If you continue to slaughter our food as a means of punishment, nothing will be left for us but cow shit and an empty stable."

His lips part in understanding.

My voice takes on an edge of ice-cold warning, and the confidence in Jacques' eyes quickly fade.

He has overstayed his welcome and he knows this meeting is now over.

"I should be going," he whispers.

I nod, tucking my hands behind my back.

His eyes fall to the courier latched around my shoulder and his eyes swirl with hunger.

"My payment for the information?" he whispers, and the double timbre trembles in his voice.

I hold back a smile, sliding the pack off my shoulder and retrieving two, fresh bags of Finn's blood.

He greedily swipes them from me.

His fangs elongate.

"It's still warm," he whispers.

"It is," I answer with a stiff smile.

"It smells.... Hell, I've never smelled anything like it before."

My grin widens.

"That's just because you're hungry. Now go. There's plenty to share should you be compelled to do so."

He's already tearing off the edge of the first bag.

The edge of the blood touches his lips.

He closes his eyes in ecstasy, tipping the bag back in rapacious eagerness.

I spin on my heels to begin my trek home.

The sound of him drinking follows me all the way back to the desolate street lamp and lonely bus route.

The couple is gone. Jacques' drinking comes to an abrupt halt.

There's a still beat of silence.

A gurgling sound ripples through the waves of silence.

Finn's blood is now working its way through his system, killing him within minutes.

I whistle low under my breath, my thoughts once again returning to the human now sleeping in the guest room of my home.

My human.

"Well done, human," I mutter, strolling towards the forest.

"Hats off to the chef."

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 6

Summary: Losing someone can make you realize what was already there and the Darkling is about to find that out the hard way.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five  

=================================

Five days have passed and the Darkling had never stopped looking for his wife. His men never saw him rest, sleep was simply never on his agenda. He barely ate at all, merely giving time for the rest of them to gather their strength.

He was restless, constantly questioning how this could have happened. No matter how he looked at it, the Darkling felt guilt consuming him. Without his rage, he worried the guilt would have paralyzed him. Had he not went on a pointless hunt for something that’s likely a tale, she would have been right by his side, antagonizing him.

It’s been hundreds of years since he felt this way, as if his heartstrings are being pulled by someone other than himself. In this search for Y/N, he realized she is consuming. After all, she might have been right – a part of him may actually care for her. He cursed that part of himself over and over again as result.

They’ve tracked her toward Fjerdan borders. Every now and then, they would find bodies on the road, their throat cut or stabbed right through the heart. Sometimes, he found them alive still. He never refrained from calling on his shadows, trying to draw useful information to close in on their whereabouts.

Y/N never saw him use his shadows before. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disapprove of the means he’s using to find her. After all, she called him a demon on their wedding night. She would never accept him as he is, he had no doubt about that.

Did she want to be found by him?

The first body they found, the Darkling smiled. He didn’t question it was her hands who have taken the man’s life. There was no concrete proof, but he was certain of it. Every body found felt like her own version of breadcrumbs.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. If she managed to set herself free so many times to leave what was now five dead men behind, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. What was the price of each crumb she left?

It wasn’t just the exposure to snow he worried about – and he did worry as she got cold too quickly and he was the one to warm her up before. Who’d warm her up now?

The darkness of the forest gave him cause to worry too – she may have tried to hide it, but he knew she was afraid of the dark. He realized it when her breathing turned shallow and fast their first night together just as she extinguished the candlelight. The next night, he left his candle to burn long into the night.

Something stirred inside him, a beast has awakened. Despite the war his heart and mind waged, he wondered if he’s his own worst enemy. Maybe it was time to let someone in. For too long, he had been alone in the shadows of his past lives.

Why is he repeating the same mistakes?

How can he be afraid when he married a woman who never blinks in the face of danger?

His heart was ice and stone until she came and now the ice has started to melt. All he’s done is hurt and destroy, but he wanted out of the loneliness that clings to him.

She was right, as hard as it is to admit it. He’s a demon, a devil that walks the earth and he cares. Because of her he hopes he might love again and he can’t let anyone take that from him – hope is the only thing stronger than fear. And when a devil falls in love and discovers hope, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful sight. They should fear him as he will go to the depths of hell to protect her.

While his eyes may have been closed, his heart jumped as a bright flash forced him to open them again.

He was never given a chance to be soft. His hands had to be bloody, to have people fear him. Only when they feared him, they wouldn’t hurt him. Now was the time to show them just why they fear him.

“Where?” He growled out, looking to Ivan and Fedyor who were looking at the sky.

“East”, Fedyor replied hastily, ready to follow Kirigan who set off in said direction without a second thought. He didn’t order anyone to follow, but they did.

Ivan and Fedyor walked two steps behind their general, alert as the flash had awakened them from a deep slumber. They weren’t the only ones shaken, unsure what they’re walking into but none showed fear as their general lead them straight to the source. Their loyalty, their belief in general Kirigan runs deep.

Except for David. He was afraid. He didn’t want to be in that forest and he didn’t want to be in danger, but he trusted Kirigan. Besides, Y/N was nice and Genya seemed to like her. So he came along too.

Kirigan walked in strides, the snow didn’t slow him down. His hands formed fists, his face twisted in anger, but his heart pounded in his chest as he had no inkling what he might find. All he knew was that he had to get there, fast.

As if made of darkness itself, the Darkling emerged on what looked like a battlefield. The trees surrounded a small clearing covered in snow that melted under the spilled blood – still warm as it poured from the dead surrounding her.

She’s on her knees, two Fjerdans chaining her up as if she’s a wild animal.

“You think you’re scary, huh?” She spat at the Fjerdan’s feet – a crimson liquid, Darkling realized. She’s bleeding.  

“That’s adorable”, she chuckled maniacally as she held her fierce gaze on the Fjerdan stood before her. They pulled her left hand behind her back and her right hand in front as they tightened the chains that were secured over rope that laid just beneath.

Darkling’s blood boiled. It is fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. Once again, he was afraid, not of her but for her.

Four more Fjerdans came from behind the trees, all covered in blood. “Fucking bitch”, one of them kicked her in the ribs and he couldn’t take anymore. He could kill them easily for what they’ve done – he’s killed every one of them he ran into in the past five days without even blinking, regardless if they were involved in her disappearance or not.

“Mister, I’ve seen scary and you don’t have his handsome smile.”

Licking his lips, the Darkling nearly smiles at her remark. There’s no possible way she means anyone else but him. Looking at his Grisha, he found them nearly all in position. They would attack in a minute, swiftly and deadly.

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he missed the Fjerdans realization they’re being watched. Too quickly, more of them appeared. The pitiful human managed to land a few consecutive blows to Darkling’s face before drawing a dagger.

Angry, dark eyes showed the Fjerdan that the Darkling’s brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from empathy he had for his wife to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in Y/N’s direction, yet it emerged when he sensed a threat to her life, letting out a part of him that was full on protective.

Grunting, the Darkling’s eyes narrowed at the human who dared to sink the blade into his heart. Despite his immortality, he could still hurt. The pain of a stab wound felt just as it would if here as fragile as the human before him.

But he’s not human at all.

Connecting his hands, the Darkling lifts his head as he summons the darkness that spills from every corner of the forest. “Foolish”, he sneers, “Attacking me in the dark?” The Darkling smirked, walking past the petrified Fjerdan, allowing his shadows to administer a thousand cuts for his transgression.

As he walked toward the middle of the circle, his shadows followed, aiding his Grisha in taking the rest of the Fjerdans so quickly that Y/N gasped.

Looking around in shock, she found Kirigan kneeling beside her.

“You have a knife”, she coughed into her shoulder, “A knife in your chest.”

“I promised”, he gasped for breath as he pulled the knife from his chest. “That I would protect you and I intend to keep the damn promise.”

On the brink of tears, her lips quivered before she laughed. “I thought you’d let them kill me.” Better to laugh than cry, she thought.

Frowning, he shook his head. “That would be too easy”, he waved David over who stood at the tree line, wide eyed. “If anyone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”

Even with tears blurring her vision, she giggled at his stupid remark. She had tried so hard to free herself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been captured by enemies, she knew what to do. But there were so many of them. Each time she freed herself, they would descend upon her. She managed to run, twice, each time they dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Despite his words, Y/N didn’t believe Kirigan would come for her. She had to be her own hero and she tried. In the end, she used everything at her disposal – everything.

Feeling the chains drop, Y/N glances at David, “Thank you.” The ropes were cut as well, but she didn’t move. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could stand on her own and asking for help would wound her. Rubbing her bruised wrists, she reluctantly looked at Kirigan.

“Here”, Kirigan offered his hands. Truth be told, he wanted to carry her, but he knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Hissing, she forced herself up despite Kirigan’s offer. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d have asked her again because she trembled when the wind blew. Her hair was matted with blood, her face red and not from blushing. He could see the damage they’ve done more clearly now as she bent to take a deep breath as if the simple act of breathing hurt her.

Staring at her, he nodded despite his better judgment. Her breathing was ragged, dragging her feet as she walked. She felt his eyes on her, it unnerved her. All she could do is hope her legs don’t give out, but it felt as if they would betray her any moment now.

“Go and make camp ahead”, he ordered his Grisha to speed up as he realized her stubbornness would kill her. Stepping before her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. There would be no asking her for permission this time, he’ll not allow her to deny his help. Hoisting her up in his arm, he held his breath as she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

How could he not bring any healers? How could he have been so stupid?

Groaning, she sent him a stern glare yet found no anger in his. His eyes are like the ocean - they have the potential to destroy, yet when the waves reach the shore, they dissipate, leaving soft designs in the sand as a gentle reminder of its presence.

Leaning into his embrace, Y/N let out a gentle sigh of resignation. She’s been caught in the riptide and for once, she doesn’t want to fight it.

“I really thought I’d die”, she admits reluctantly.

Feeling him stiffen as he held her in his arms, Y/N frowned. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, or anything at all. This isn’t what they do, they don’t bare their hearts open.

“And when I faced death”, she continued regardless. Tilting her head to look up at him, she let out a shuddered exhale. A shy smile adorned her lips as their eyes shared a gaze so tender, an outsider would believe them to be in love.

“I thought how silly it is that I don’t know your first name.”

Snorting, Kirigan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes”, she breathes out.

Looking at her now, the Darkling couldn’t believe this is his wife. The woman who infuriates him so often seemed so small, so fragile in his arms. Her gaze held remains of the horrors she was cast into and yet he never saw her as earnest before.

“I married you and I don’t even know your name.”

Licking his lips, he stops. Truth be told, no one actually knows his name. His name was long forgotten, a piece of his soul he had left behind in the fold. He promised himself he’d never utter it while he lives. He had promised he would never be that man again.

Unfortunately for him, he seems to be breaking his promises lately.

He promised her he’d protect her and he failed, just as he promised himself he’d never care for her and yet he does.

“Aleksander”, he mutters, still unsure if it’s the right decision. He placed one of his greatest secrets in the hands of a woman who’d see his world burn. He gave her power she never should possess and yet he’s not afraid. No one could make him fear anything after the ordeal he was put through since she decided to tear down his defenses.  

Smiling softly, she closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder she felt satisfied. It may be small, but finding out his name felt like a victory. She was born to play this game, it was her destiny. He is her destiny.

Waking up, she found herself wrapped in several blankets inside a tent. Grunting, she struggled to sit up on her own. It seemed to be dark still, but she had a blue light lantern lit inside. She may not know who left it there, but Y/N was thankful. Despite her fear of dark, she found it odd she did not fear Aleksander’s darkness at all.

When his shadows nearly encased her in the clearing, she didn’t fret or worry. She smiled.

As contradictory as it may seem, she wished he was with her now. Her entire body ached and still, she was more bothered by the empty spot beside her. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Would it be so bad if she showed a sliver of vulnerability for a single night? Would making a small concession such as this truly take away her power?

Before she has a chance to change her mind, she’s already outside of her tent. The cold chilled her to the bone, biting every inch of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, she looked to the tent next to hers as it was the only one so close – seemingly intentional.

Trying to open it in the cold seemed impossible as her fingers shook violently. Feeling faint, she wondered why she couldn’t just stay in her own tent for the night. Surely it would have been a better idea than to admit she’s scared to be alone.

A warm liquid trickled down her lip and she nearly laughed at her own idiocy. The darkness and cold and her own injuries have all been fairly good reasons for her to just sleep and try to recover and she still tried to find her husband who showed so much disdain for her in the past.

Just as she was about to give up, a familiar head of hair peaked through.

Shivering, she wipes the liquid from under her nose with the back of her hand. Looking at it, she realizes it’s blood. There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes, the blood loss suffered over the past days leaving its mark.

Looking up at Kirigan, her lips tremble and she sways slightly as her legs threaten to give out. “I didn’t know who else to go to”, she mumbles meekly before collapsing into Kirigan’s arms.

No…Aleksander’s arms.

Pulling her inside, he wrapped her in his arms as she shivered. Covering her with blankets didn’t seem to help either, but he had confidence it would soon enough.

She closed her eyes, clinging to him and selfishly, he smiled. It brought back memories of the night she climbed atop of him to warm up, he assumed. She didn’t know he was awake then, but she did now. She trusted him enough to seek warmth and as her shivers stopped slowly. That’s when the Darkling realized he would never deny her anything she asked of him.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breath and her eyes open.

He looked at her in a haunted way, a shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and she reached up to touch it, her chest aching when he nuzzled into her palm. They have never been quite as tender with one another, never so intimate. It felt surprisingly nice.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, feeling so emotionally raw. Physical pain and lingering fear of impending death must have weakened her for a short while. Surely, she can allow herself a few moments of humanity?

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

Drawing a shuddered breath, her eyebrows knitted in worry. That’s where the knife was, she remembered with guilt. He could have died for her. Hating him requires too much energy; one she had little to spare. For the night, he can just be her husband and she will just be his wife. What harm can it do?

“Why did you come for me? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t fight for me?” Her confidence wavered as he sighed, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Not only did he come for her, but he murdered men for her.

Blinking slow, half in a daze as a low-grade fever began to grip her too, she had no more strength to deny how beautiful he is or how disarming his charm is. He may never love her, but she could…she could love him. If she ever fell for him, she knew she’d never be able to unlove him. She wouldn’t want to and that…that felt oddly comforting. For once, she was too tired to listen to her mind that preferred to set the world on fire rather than care for him.

As her eyes closed and her face relaxed, he stayed awake. He didn’t understand it, but he embraced the warm feeling spreading in his chest as she fell asleep.

“I’d burn this world for you.”

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard​

PART 7

[pamgkrthwrites]

Too Crazy In Love : Part 1, The Soulmate of the Monkey King.

Fandom: LEGO Monkie Kid

Characters: Sun Wukong(Monkey King), Reader

Themes: Soulmate, Yandere

Summary:  Sun Wukong has his whole life been dedicated to finding his soulmate. He has had moments of doubt that you even exist but during the time he decided to take a break to look for you, and he finds you. You are his perfect soulmate. Unknown to him, he is not yours.

Word Count: 2669

A03 | Masterlist

Part 1(You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3

When he was first hatched from his rock, Sun Wukong - aka The Monkey King - hoped he had a soulmate. Yes, even after he accidentally lazer eyed the Jade Emperor, the God of Gods in the eastern world. 

He imagined every day what his soulmate would be like. Would they too be like him? Would they be monkey-like, like his born form? Human? God? Worse case they could be a demon but he accepted within himself he would still love them no matter what.

It was only when he was working and studying under the sage who lived on top of the mountain of Heart and Mind did he reconsider everything he was hoping for. 

The sage once told him that gods were originally only ever granted soulmates which changed after one too many gods’ soulmates were humans who could not return their love. This ended up allowing demons to have soulmates as well but for the time being there was no way to tell if Monkley had a soulmate. Only time could tell.

He had never considered NOT having a soulmate? What did soulmates even FEEL like anyway? How would he know? Maybe because he came from a rock he wouldn’t have a soulmate. And even if you were real, could he ever find you? Would you even love him as a monkey?

He started to train to change his form. Not just because it would be easier to not be killed by the 3 ways the Gods could kill him in his new immortal state, but now also to change his form if you never liked it.

He may never know if you were actually out there, but he was going to put in all his effort to make sure you did love him!

So when he was told by the gods he was going to become one, he was over the moon! It would make sure he did get a soulmate and most importantly would not just be able to find you, but to keep you safe with his God status. 

So you can imagine his rage when he found out his rank in heaven actually the bare fucking bottom.

He didn’t think he ever… FELT angry before… He didn’t know if it was because the Jade Emperor technically lied to him about it, did it to control him, or was because he only accept it to make sure you were real and were safe. Either way, he was angry. 

He made a short-sighted choice to go back down to heaven and call himself the Sage Equal to Heaven, but those fools needed to learn their place! The Jade Emperor sent down two fools to beat him and he overpowered them like it was a simple action like breathing. So when he was accepted back in with his requested title he was very happy. They also gave him a side job to look after the immortal peaches! And sure he MAY have eaten them, also stole the immortal wine and in his drunken state took immortal pills. Like, all of them.

What level of immortality did it make him? Technically it would mean he forever times immortal but he is counting am I right?

Sun Wukong is counting that’s for sure. 

But could someone explain to him why they sent Erlang of all people to fight him? That just seems like a dick move. 

So he is tied up about to be killed at the monster block and all he could think of was “I am not dying without seeing my soulmate’s face”! 

But what could he do? They were going to kill him!-- 

Oh. 

Right.

He is Immortal because of the peaches, wine, and pills. 

He can’t die.

Damn he so smart. Your gonna love him I promise. 

But again, Jade Emperor is mean and he calls his best pal, the Buddha.

Rude.

So when he met face to face, he was surprised by what the guy said.

“What do you want most, Monkey?” The Budda asked.

No one ever asked what he wanted. 

“You know what?!” Monkey raised his voice at the man.

The Jade Emperor hid behind the Buddha and all the other gods watched in fear. What would this insane monkey do?

“All I want is a guarantee I will have a soulmate and no one will get in my way!”

Everyone became silent. This was not what they thought the insane immortal monkey would ask for and yet, here he was.

Everyone waited for what the Buddha would say. Surely after hearing it, he would not grant such a disgusting request. Hell, make sure Monkey never had one!

But everyone stood still and waited for what the Buddha would say.

“I’ll make a bet with you, Sun Wukong,” The Budda said calmly, breaking the tension in the air like a burning knife. “I will grant every request you make if you can successfully jump out of the palm of my hand.”

Upon hearing this without thinking, Monkey stepped onto the Budda’s hand and jumped as far and as high as he could. He will have you! No matter what!

He may have been too brash though as he jumped to the edge of the universe itself. He saw five pillars holding the sky and could only think that one day he would take you here. 

To show his love for you before you even arrived into his life he wrote on one of the pillars saying “I will one day meet the love of my universe, and when that day comes I will love them forever”.

Of course, he takes a piss before he jumps back and lands perfectly back on the Budda palm feeling smug. 

He felt cheated upon seeing the Budda’s face being disappointed only to be explained those pillars he saw earlier? Yeah, those were the Budda’s fingers.

As punishment Monkey was trapped under the mountain which was locked with a seal so he could never leave his prison. 

The biggest shame to him however was that he would probably never see you, and so he cried himself to the point he became part of the earth.

But Monkey’s biggest shame would not be realised, that shame being that Monkey gained all this power for someone he could not know for sure would be real, and even left his partner in his shadow. That was his true shame and the true reason why he was punished. 

Sun Wukong would have to wait for thousands of years to even meet your eyes for the shame he brought upon himself.

---

Wukong’s final act of being “a hero” was trapping away the Demon Bull King. After fighting demons, gods, and travelling to the West, he thought he had enough. He got all the powers to protect you, all the glory, now all that was left was to find you. 

He left his staff to keep the Demon Bull King under wraps but also to show to everyone and everything he wasn’t doing it anymore. He was going out into the world to find you and that was all he wanted to do. 

He went to every place on the planet multiple times over and still had yet to find you. He collected weird things over the years hoping to one day to show you everything single thing. However, as the years went on, the pile grew, and you had yet to still be found he left as if this had all been in vain.

Once again his hope for you to be real was vanishing and he didn’t believe it would be coming back anytime soon. Maybe this is what he gets from doing the Buddha of all immortal beings dirty like that all those years ago.

He remembered when he first saw MK. Some cheeky kid on his human life journey being a total fanboy of The Monkey King. But like, who wouldn’t haha. 

It’s a tough call(it was in fact a spur of the moment move. Monkey King 101) to make MK his successor, but could happen right? The only reason he noticed him anyway was that he was watching Tripitaka’s reincarnation, Tang, who was very close with MK and was weirdly close to Zhu Bajie’s reincarnation Pigsy.

He teaches MK whenever he wants to but most of the time stays at his temple close to the city. His whole life he had been looking for his soulmate, but a break to train someone new to be his replacement couldn’t be harmful, right?

It was New Year’s Eve and he was training MK when the Spider Queen attacked. He was more annoyed with the whole thing but liked making jabs at The Demon Bull King and his son. It was very entertaining. 

Well, besides the Lady Bone Demon thing but he was going to sort that out as fast as he could. 

As he was walking around the ruined city to find some clues. He heard someone call out for help. There was something that pulled him towards the voice. His legs started moving towards where the voice came from before his brain could even work as normal.

“Help!?” you yelped out, hoping someone would hear you.

You had only wakened up from being turned into one of the Spider Queens followers, becoming part of the hive mind. But now you were hanging by a piece of clothing.

You had to admit you weren’t the biggest fan of heights and being held up by something that felt like it was ripping was scary.

You were suddenly tackled to the ground by a hairy thing? You hit the ground pretty hard and fast so it took you a moment the thing was talking to you.

“-can you hear me?” The voice asked you.

The voice was uplifting to your ears. You nodded your head as you blinked your eyelids over and over again to try to refrain your sight after hitting the ground pretty hard. Your head was in pain before after leaving the spider hivemind but now it hurt because of hitting the ground.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you, are you okay?” It sounded like whoever was talking to you was going to say something else before they realised the pain you were in. They were expressing real concern but it seemed like something was more important on their mind.

“Just hit my head, nothing too bad.” You were able to mutter out as your eyesight was coming back to you.

It seemed like the person who saved you was a human-sized monkey? You could pick out golds, oranges and reds at first. It was as if he was the burning sun, deciding to shine only on you. It was a little overwhelming.

He sat you up, letting your head rest on the hard stone wall in the alleyway you had found yourself in. It wasn’t what Wukong wanted for you but you needed to gather your surroundings before he could move you. He didn’t want to scare you.

He wondered why his body reacted in the way it did until he saw your face. Once he saw you everything hit him like a truck. The overwhelming warmth within his chest and on his cheeks and the feeling of butterflies within his stomach. It was the best feeling he had ever felt and he knew why. 

It had been the moment he had longed for since he rose from his rock egg. You. You were his soulmate.

Seeing you in distress in the situation you were in made him jump towards you without thinking. He tried after you were in his arms to soften the blow you would feel but upon hitting the ground he realised he failed in that.

He was being stupid and rash, like he was back all those years ago. He should’ve thought about how he would save you before just jumping.

But, feeling you in his arms was so, amazing. He felt short of breath from your scent, his hands felt like they were on fire, and your dizzy little face was just so adorable.

And it was all his.

You were all for him.

You were his and his alone and that gave him such a rush. 

You were perfect in every single way.

Your skin, your eyes, your hair, your voice, your body.

Everything was perfect.

Your sight had mostly returned to you, just being a bit blurry around the edges, you looked at the man who saved you.

He looked familiar to you but you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. Though, you did notice the man’s tail that had made a heart shape. 

You didn’t try to stare at him, but you did notice he was staring at you like a lovesick puppy, and it had weirded you out a little.

“Um,” you tried to break the unnerving silence. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Adorable.” He said as if he wasn’t paying attention to what you had said.

“I- Excuse me?” You felt your cheeks flush and were confused by his words.

“I said your welcome.” He answered you with a big smile on his face.

Something about him and how he was looking and smiling at you made you, uncomfortable. 

You wanted- No, you needed to leave, and now.

“Thank you for your help,” you said as you stood up, using the wall behind you as support. “But I should start getting myself home now.”

You felt uncomfortable that he was trying to help you stand up when his hands were too close to your waist. He stiffen when you mentioned going home and his forced smile was shown to you.

Sun Wukong was considering just taking you to his temple right now and keeping you in one of the secret rooms it had. If he did that, you would just be labelled as a missing person after the attack of Spider Queen.

He did notice you trying to back away from him, shrinking in on yourself agonist a wall. 

You weren’t going anywhere, peaches. You weren’t going to leave his sight anytime soon. He had been searching for you for years, and he wasn’t going to let you slip away that easily.

His very tiny logical self tried to tell him not to act on impulse, with just the mention of that word made his younger self string up.

Should he just wisp you up into a cloud and take you straight to his temple? What if you started to fight back? A plan was already starting to form in his mind and unknowing his disgusting thoughts were showing on his face.

You could tell by how his eyes were looking at nothing, deep in thought and how he had a gross smile starting to grow across his face.

You needed to leave.

You sucked in your stomach and quickly brushed out of his lock. “Thank you bye!” You simply stated as you walked quickly.

You could feel the stare he was giving you as if he was burning you with lava straight onto your skin. 

You tried to walk as fast as you could but you could hear his steps close behind.

Closer and closer.

Faster and faster.

Fear started to burn at your skin. What did this thing want with you?

He suddenly appeared in front of you, which made you gasp and almost trip over yourself.

He put on hand on your wrist, pulling you close with one tug then placing his other hand on your back. 

“Sorry peaches,” He said with a twisted smile and lustful eyes. “I’ve been looking for you too long to let you just slip away just like that.”

You felt fear and dread mix together within you. 

You never made it home that night.

Your family filled you as a missing person the next day and you were filled as missing to a suspected dead person of the Attack of the Spider Queen.

[thomacrumbs]

vincit qui se vincit.

various boys (albedo, diluc, aether, xiao, childe, gorou, kazuha, thoma) x gn! reader. fantasy! au. blurbs, mostly fluff. nouns used: sorcerer (childe) & witch (kazuha) w/ gender neutral pronouns. ♡s & ↻s appreciated!

notes: i brainrotted. i was listening to joy's album while writing this ^^

albedo.

the great alchemist albedo is just a myth, or so people think. cursed to live forever as a spirit bound to a teapot by a witch, he sits, bored out of his mind, on the shelves of a dingy antique shop. until one day, against the warnings of the antique shop owner, who warns of bad luck & misfortune, you purchase the quaint teapot & rescues him from his prison. he clatters menacingly on your countertop, only to be ignored by you for days on end before you finally lift the lid off the teapot, releasing his spirit into the realm of the living (its not as bad as it sounds. he is neither threatening nor scary). he doesn't have the heart to tell the human he's grown quite fond of that he's slowly disappearing.

diluc ragvindr.

the ludi harpstum is a festival of wine & song, celebrating the long history of the city of mondstadt, filled with games & song. this year, it seems like the knights of favonius has gone all out with their preparations, even calling in the famed circus of performers that has travelled every corner of teyvat, wowing people with daring flips mid-air, disappearing limbs & tight-rope on the thinnest of threads. the music & laughter of children is so loud that you could hear it from the windows of the dawn winery. an unwilling diluc is dragged against his will to at least view the once in a lifetime circus act, only to be charmed by the cute magic performer who winks at him from the stage as poker cards fly into the air. suddenly he finds himself going to bed thinking about them and wakes up in cold sweat wanting to talk to them. but, the ludi harpstum is only 15 days, can he catch you before you slip through his fingers?

aether.

yeah. maybe you shouldn't have tried to summon a guardian angel, but to be fair your friend put you up to this. now this blonde biblically inaccurate angel is bound to you by contract, and you have another headache to worry about alongside your minimum wage job, messy apartment and the neighbour from next door who keeps taking your flour. not to mention his constant rambling about his sister who you've unceremoniously torn him away from, and suddenly you're repeating this entire ritual, because you cannot say no to those eyes (and maybe you did want to impress him, what about it?) it didn't work, but he doesn't seem that peeved, especially when he settles on your bed after you've fallen into deep sleep, pressing a kiss to your forehead and affectionally calling you cute. he is your guardian angel, at the end of the day.

xiao.

you're the famed dragon rider in the skies of liyue. the winner of several races, competitions & illustrated celebrity in the devoted dragon owner scene. afterall, you ride the only remaining off-spring of morax, a gift from the emperor himself. you boast that no one else could tame your dragon except for you, and for a long while, this seems true. it blows curling flames at anyone who dares come close & curls it spiked tail protectively around you to ward off any unsavoury people. that is, until an unknown melody that carries over the wind calls your dragon down from the skies, and suddenly you are hurtling through the skies at insane speeds.

childe.

he came to liyue for one reason only (two, actually, but morax is dead now, so no boxing him), to challenge the great sorcerer branded by the archons. he's heard about their miracles from a young age, the ability to call down thunder from the skies, resurrecting the dead, moving the entire earth with a simple flick. the only obstacle in his way is that this sorcerer is near unidentifiable, with not even a name to put to a face. imagine his shock when the very sorcerer saves him from certain death, and he finds out they're not an old man hobbling around with a cane, but a young person around his age. oops can't fight if you're too distracted by how good your opponent looks. damn they look good kicking my ass i should do this more often.

gorou.

his dog has had enough of his single shit, crying into an empty bowl of icecream after watching the notebook, wailing about how he "wishes that were him". the animal whisperer who likes hanging around the local dog park is very surprised when they hear a yapping dog bark that his owner needs a significant other stat, he's desperate and alone, applications open please help my mess of an owner. but hey, you aren't complaining, he's pretty cute, and you find it cute that he tries to stop his tail from wagging whenever he sees you.

kazuha kaedehara.

from a young age, he's heard of the immortal witch that hides in their cottage in the thick of the dark forest nears the borders of inazuma. and nothing stops him from pounding on the door of the run down cottage, not even the animate vines that snap at him and trees that uproot themselves to stop him from advancing further. afterall, an immortal being must know the answer to bringing back someone from the dead, right? he near sobs when they tell him that it's impossible, the dead have to stay dead. he doesn't understand at first, but the witch is kinder than he expected, helping him through the memories, painful & happy. but he doesn't miss the flit of pain behind their eyes whenever he talks about losing someone, afterall, time is cruel to all.

thoma.

thoma thinks he's being seduced. afterall, isn't that what sirens do? sing of a pretty future, the numbers to win the future lottery. even though thoma has never won the lottery with their numbers, he stills himself entranced & walks down to the beach everyday to listen to them talk & sing, sitting on the edge of the rock as cold water clashes with his temperature that naturally runs high. finally, he gets the courage to confront them- he doesn't want to fall in love because of magic, that's not right. only to be met with a confused look, you're a half human half mermaid, not a siren. thoma fucking dies of embarrassment when he realises that he was simply in love all along.

[dmwrites]

Before there were annoying gods who taunted power like a cat with a mouse, before there were mountains of sand to move to occupy thoughts, there was Foolish, the totem of death. A favorite amongst bloodthirsty gods, he was given half-godhood, and a simple task: kill. So Foolish traveled the land, slaughtering entire kingdoms. The better show he put on for the gods, the better he was rewarded. Golden skin, indestructible weapons, immortality.

But a one man show was exhausting, and, to be frank, the gods had started to lose interest. Violence and war and strife can only be so unique. At the end of the day, it always ends in a blade taking a life.

And Foolish wasn’t quite sure how long they would be satiated by his one-man show.

----

Foolish knelt at the alter of a long-abandoned church with his head bowed, still and silent.

“Rise.” A voice spoke whispers in his ears. He rose. “What do you want, little totem?”

“I fear that you have grown tired of me.” Foolish lifted his face up towards the lofting ceiling of the church. “You are restless at the lack of fighting. You make me look like a fool, striking me with lightning and laughing at me.”

“Foolish boy, do not talk against us. You are a pet we can easily toss away.” The whispers felt like they were invading his chest, wrapping his lungs in molten gold.

“I’m sorry. I too am frustrated with the lack of fights. The mortals have become smarter. They hide from me and use tricks to make me attack nothing.”

“They fool you.” The whispers laughed in his ear. He blushed in deep embarrassment.

“I want to be better, I want to entertain you like I used to.” Foolish spoke after the laughter had died down. “But I don’t know how. I need… a guiding light.”

The whispers fell silent. The air compressed around him for a minute, and he stood there, entrapped in the world of a god thinking.

“A guiding light… I think, perhaps, that you just solved your own problem, little totem.” The whispers were curious, thoughtful. “Tell me, what do you know of the coal mines?”

“Coal mines?” Foolish let out a long sigh he hoped sounded more thoughtful then annoyed. “Not much. Humans mine coal from them.”

“Yes, Foolish, very astute of you. Humans mine coal from the coal mines.” The molten feeling on his lungs returned for a moment. “The mines are dangerous. Falling rock can kill an entire fleet of men. So they have something to alert them to disaster. A canary, whose death means more to come.”

“A harbinger of death!” Foolish gasped. “Oh, of course! Can I have one? Please? I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The whispers buzzed, repeating the word over and over again.

“Y-” Before he could even respond, there was pain. A wet splattering noise, and then all Foolish could hear was the desperate beating of his heart. He wished upon every name he could think of to pass out, but he wasn’t that lucky. Something beyond his control opened his eyes and made him watch. A single rib, torn from his own body, hung in the air. And around it grew a person, horrible to watch. It grew and grew until it resembled Foolish, and then it fell to the ground, a finished product.

“Go see your canary.” The whispers were elated.

Foolish stood, holding a hand to his still-bleeding ribs. They would heal in a matter of minutes, the half god in him saw to that, but the pain was all human. He stumbled, and fell on top of the figure. They both groaned in pain, and Foolish found himself face-to-face with a blond man who looked just as scared as he felt.

“Hello?” the person said, and the whispers laughed.

“Canary?” Foolish asked, pulling himself up to a sitting position and taking the person’s face in his hands to study it.

“Canary? What kind of name is that? My name’s Jimmy!” The person pulled their head back in annoyance.

“That’s a stupid fucking name.”

[skellebonez]

0 SELF CONTROL HERE SKELLE!!! God so help me, I need more fluff- so I come here with this suggestion: 64 "I may have eaten seven of them already" AND 72 "don't you dare" with winter's parents and kiddos AU BECAUSE I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL AHDJDB

I just wanted to write something light and fluffy and simple and you have given me a great prompt to do that just! @winterpower98 thank you for making this AU, it's like a hot cup of cocoa on a cold day.

I may have eaten seven of them already/Don't you dare

“Don’t you dare,” Macaque grumbled the second Wukong started to smile in his direction. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t even say it.”

“Aw, come on!” Wukong laughed out, smile widening. “It’ll be fun! And we can totally handle the three of them together. And they’d probably love it if you came!”

Macaque grumbled under his breath, looking at the pamphlet in the other disguised immortal monkey's hands with a withering gaze. Should he had also had the Monkey King's one time use beam eyes (and now that he thought about those, what even happened to them? he never saw him use them but people who saw it knew he had used that ability at least once) he might have taken the chance light it on fire.

But only might. Mei was there, after all, and that seemed like an extreme reaction that relied on "I am only just used to having a child and you expect me to do THAT".

"Hey," Wukong continued, voice softening as he smiled. "You don't have to go with us. I know that crowded places like that are not... the most comfortable for you. I can probably get Iron Fan or Sandy to come with us since Red is coming along too if you really don't want to go. I know you won't tell Mei she can't hang out with her friends, I just thought you'd be more comfortable watching her yourself."

The sentiment was... shockingly thoughtful, once explained to Macaque. Wukong was right, he was more comfortable watching over his adopted daughter himself. Not that he didn't trust Wukong to care for her, or any of his little friend group for that matter, but it had just been the two of them for so long that leaving her in the care of another somewhere with so many people... perhaps that was a ridiculous thing to think, given how often he had left her alone in hotel rooms during their early months after the fire.

At least those doors were locked?

"I will... discuss this with Mei," he said after a moment, choosing to ignore the small surprised tilt the other's smile took in response. "That's not a yes!"

"Didn't say it was, Mango," Wukong said, handing him the pamphlet as he walked off before loudly announcing his next course of action. "I'm going to make snacks!"

Which left Macaque alone with Mei and MK. He sighed, kneeling down to be closer to eye level with them..

"Look, kids, I talked to Wukong and..." Macaque attempted to start. But Mei and MK were looking at him dead in the eye, little eyes watering up as they pouted. They had almost certainly been listening in on at least part of their conversation, he was certain of it now! But he was Six-Eared Macaque! He had resolve! He could hold his ground! "I don't... I..." Mei's lip trembled. "Uuuuuugh fine. I'll go to the a-"

The resounding screams and cheers from the two youngsters that interrupted him could have broken through the sound barrier, and Macaque had to cover his ears in response.

"BUT!" He continued, waiting for their attention to fall back on him. "You need to listen to us at all times. Understood?"

Somewhere in the screaming he was almost certain he heard a yes or two.

Wukong peeked his head out from the kitchen, levying Macaque with an understanding expression.

"They tag teamed you with the eyes, didn't they."

"And the lip wobble."

"Ouch."

"WE'RE GOING TO THE AMUSEMENT PARK FUCK YEAH!"

"MEI LANGUAGE!

~

"Here," Wukong said, pulling Macaque aside after just 30 minutes in the park. Iron Fan had come along after all, watching her son and his friends after they disembarked the swing ride they were on for the third time in a row. He held out his hand, some kind of tiny package in his right hand while his left held yet another piece of amusement park food from a stall of some kind. "You, uh. I brought them in case you started to look uncomfortable and I thought they might help?"

Macaque held out his hand, eyes widening as he realized what the package contained.

"Earplugs? Really?"

"Well, I thought," Wukong shrugged, looking away for a few seconds. If Macaque didn't know any better he would say the other monkey was blushing in embarrassment. "I dunno... maybe they might help block out the noise? Your hearing is so good that you can probably hear through them and all and... and you've probably already thought about using them before oh fuck I am an idiot."

The face of pure dismay on the other made it so Macaque couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh. In all their time together he had never seen him look so comically disappointed in himself. And he saw the other do some really dumb shit! He was around to hear second hand about when this man picked a fight with Buddha after all.

"It's fine," Macaque said, opening the package. There were at least 12 inside, more than enough for all of his ears if he wanted to use them like that. Oddly... thoughtful, actually. "I haven't used them in decades, not in public or in private. But maybe these new modern ones are lest shit. Mei's little earmuffs and headphones seem to be a lot better than the old stuff after all."

Wukong seemed to watch him as he carefully, covertly, slipped the plugs into his ears. Just inside his ears enough to not be noticeable if you weren't looking for them. Snug... The world was muted oddly, and to be honest it wasn't the most comfortable thing mentally when he was supposed to be watching someone else. But he could still hear Mei from farther away than any human...

"Well... they're less shit," he announced, and now it was apparently Wukong's turn to be unable to hold back a laugh. "Hey. Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Mango," Wukong said with a smile, shoving the last of his deep fried nonsense into his mouth.

"How many of those things have you eaten sense we got here?"

"I may have eaten seven of them already."

"Oh I am NOT riding behind you on any roller coasters, no way."

[tomodachi-z]

A different take on their relationships

So I was scrolling through the genshin thread and soon came to a realization that most of the relationship Hc’s were pretty fluff based, which got me thinking - was that really all there was?  Even if Genshin was a heartfelt game i couldnt really believe that all of them would be pure husband material - which sort of spiraled into this.

- This is purely my take on how some of the Genshin boys would approach relationships, its just some random thoughts though so take it as you will.

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe

Tw: angst, abuse, toxic relationships, mentions of death, just overall scummy behavior.

Slight NSFW

Minors DNI

Zhongli

Honestly, out of the whole lot of them i think he’d be the most civil. Apart from his bad traits that is.

First of all I dont believe Zhongli would actively pursue a relationship, however he would be open to it, though the chances of it being a special “love at first sight” is practically zero. Hes lived thousands of years and seen humanity evolve as a whole, hes met millions of people over the years and peoples faces really arent that different, they just blur together at this point. So if we were to go by that logic, his love interest would have to be someone he interacts with on a day to day basis - or at the very least weekly.

If he was starting to develop an attachment to you, I believe he would also be fairly upfront about it, asking you out and courting you wouldn't be anything new, he’s had lovers before after all.

But this is where it starts to get a bit off-putting. Even if your relationship is sailing along fine, he’d still compare it to the others he’s had. Your taste in clothing, your choice of books, how you style your hair. Every now and again he’d utter something like “Ah ___ used to style their hair like that.” Or “Your eyes are so familiar, just like ___...” in which case the blank space is a previous lovers name. Not that he’d divulge that to you. Even if you ask him about the people he keeps mentioning he’d brush you off and change the subject. Though sometimes he forgets himself and calls you by a different name.

He would also never tell you he’s a God. And you wouldn’t find out either.

 Hes hidden it from the whole of Liyue, why would you be any different? His role as Archon was over anyway so there would be no point to it.

So you would live your life never finding out about him, not ever truly reaching his heart, because his heart is already filled to the brim with memories, and whatever little space you occupy there would also fade along with your passing. You would have no children, for I truly believe that Zhongli just would not want children, his one and only child would remain Liyue, and your name would be uttered in passing, when he confuses his next lover with you.

Happy Ending?

Zhongli would still love you

He would cherish and comfort you

But there was nothing in this world more lonely than immortality.

He would love again but it would only repeat the cycle unless he truly comes to terms with himself.

It would take a lot of time, perhaps even an eternity, but I believe that his past relationships would actually help him realize something.

That even though humans were much the same he loved you all individually.

At the end of time he would recount each one of your names, in the hopes that you would take him with you, so that he could finally apologize.

Diluc

I honestly believe he just does not want a relationship. Not now anyway, not when hes 20+ years old. So the thought of him forming a crrush on you or any sort of real romantic attachment would also be pretty slim. He’d be your friend, sure, your best friend even, but when it comes to being your boyfriend? It wouldn’t be what you think it is.

If he does form a relationship with you its because you confessed, and you asked him whether or not he was willing to give it a go, and considering you already know each other so well he didn't really see a reason why not. Though it wasn't out of love that he’d agree.

I do believe that he’d still be a gentleman, he would send you flowers, and he would take you on walks, he would also give you gifts, but all of those were just out of courtesy. He was taught to behave like a gentleman, and so he would.

He would never be available, always working, always busy, never in a good mood. “Don't bother me, I'm busy.” He’d coldly order. And if you tried to do something nice to him like cook him a meal whilst he’s working he’d just tell you not to bother, the butler can make it better than you so why even try.

You would be a hitch in his schedule, an added task every day, another time consuming detail he had to take into consideration. But considering he was the one who agreed to the whole idea, he would simply have to deal with it.

As for intimacy, it would be rare. He’d kiss you just because he was curious how it would feel, he’d fuck you just because you asked him to, and sure he might have enjoyed it, you even said you enjoyed it, but it wouldn't become a regular thing between you two. He would come home exhausted, sore and half asleep, so on most days you can expect him to share simple words of greeting before he falls asleep.

If you got tired of it he would just let you go, both of you could see it wasn't working, so why bother try to fix it. You deserve better than him, a man that would love and cherish you, but right now, he simply cannot.

Those are your parting words, he wishes you luck and thanks you for your patience, whether or not you remain friends after that is really up to you.

Happy Ending?

What Diluc needs more than anyone else is time

Time to really heal

Time to forgive himself

Time to start loving the world again.

And I believe he would learn to do those things if time was given.

He would one day realize that his heart yearned for something other than day to day work, something that you tried to show him long ago.

He would fall in love eventually, perhaps not with you, but he would finally open his heart.

He would love earnestly and faithfully till the end of his days.

Kaeya

He’s well known as a flirt in Mondstat, he’s slept with people around town and chances are that’s how he first met you. Whether you slept with him or rejected him didn’t matter, what he was after was your looks after all.

He’d seduce you with praise and compliments, he’d lavish you with gifts and roses, as long as you give him something in return that is.

If you didn’t it wouldn’t really bother him much, he’d simply abandon the thought of you and turn his eyes on another pretty face, if you ever ask him about why he suddenly stopped he’d respond with “I don’t like wasting my time sweetheart.”

However if you give in to his seductions I believe he would eventually start enveloping the idea about being your boyfriend, the idea of you being his and him being yours was tempting for sure. It would take a while but he would also stop flirting so shamelessly with other people, he no longer saw a reason for it now that you were his after all.

But he would never truly yield his heart to you, always keeping secrets, always masking his emotions with sly words. I don’t think he’d ever really open up about his past or about the depths of his mind. But he would love you, and he would protect you, he would cherish you the only way he knew how, by keeping you in the dark, lest you regret your decision in loving him.

Happy ending?

His habits would change as he grows older

They would truly shift when he sees his first child in your arms.

He would cry, not even knowing why

He would fall so helplessly in love with the thought of a happy future and he would be terrified by it

But if you stay by his side, if you make him believe he can have a happy life and a future with you

He would give you the world, if only you make him believe those words.

Childe

Honestly the worst out of all of them.

Now, I firmly believe that he also would not pursue a romantic relationship if given a choice, but his heart is fickle and easily swayed by his own emotions, so when he sees you pop up every now and again he’d undoubtedly would act on his feelings.

He’d charm you, wine and dine you and treat you like a princess if you so wished. He would make sure you had everything you had ever wanted, he’d make promises of love and marriage, but after he gets what he wants, he would leave you.

Just like that, without a word, without a note, nothing. So when you see him after months of confusion, guilt and regret you would ask him why he had left, and all he would say is “What else did you expect?” He’s a Fatui after all, and he has no time for thoughts of tomorrow or promises for the future. His eyes would hold no warmth as he noted that the interaction was rather fair in his eyes, he had treated you like a princess after all.

He has no time to think of anyone else but his family and his duty to Tsaritsa, you were just a toy he liked playing with for a while till you got boring, now move before he breaks you.

Happy Ending?

Now I truly believe that there is someone out there for everyone

Even for someone like Childe

But that someone would have to be exceptional - someone with a commanding sense of self respect, someone with purpose and belief, someone with a fate of their own.

They wouldn't have to be a fighter or even an adventurer, but they would have to be a force of their own to be able to show Childe what kind of life he was truly living.

He knew he was in hell, but meeting someone like that would make it all the more apparent

But if they reached out their hand to him, if they gave him a chance.

He believed he would see a world in colors he never knew existed.

And he would love truly and openly, he would shed his heart to them and only them.