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ashesandhackles · 3 years

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The Abandoned Boy And His Problematic Fathers: Snape with Voldemort & Dumbledore

"He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, all found home here..” - Forest Again, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

This comparison line of Harry, Snape and Voldemort being abandoned boys is not an accident. There is an intentional parallel being made between three of them - not only in terms of their parallels with the Hallows (as Tumblr has astutely pointed out), but also the commonalities in their upbringing. Given that Harry empathises so deeply with both of them, I am going to argue one of Harry’s attributes was present in all of them. We know that as an abandoned boy with lack of male authority figures to model after, Harry strongly craved a father. Here is a meta by u/metametatron4 that tracks Harry’s feelings about James (and Snape) through the series.

In Voldemort’s case, Tom believes his father to be the magical one and keeps his father’s name until he could no longer prove that it was his father who gave him his “special” lineage. He goes as far as searching Hogwarts records for his father because in his mind, his mother was “weak” to die. Once he is forced to concede that his mother is the magical one, he chooses to emphasise her ancestry in a paternal sense - “Salazar Slytherin, greatest of Hogwarts four”, tying himself up in grandeur. He also killed his father and his own paternal side of the family, his source of rage and shame. He sheds his father's name and becomes someone else, only known by his "special" magical lineage - cutting off that undesirable part of himself. Voldemort’s reaction to both his parent’s abandonment is to be special in every way, and choosing to discard love and seek power and control - a place where he is not rejected at all.

Snape is different from both Harry and Voldemort is that he specifically rejects his abusive father, having known him. As a child, he is seen wearing his mother’s clothes, only with an overlong coat that might belong to his father on a hot sunny day. As per Pottermore, he occasionally got whipped - so one can assume the coat is to hide that. Harry identifies strongly to Snape wearing overlong clothes that don’t quite fit him - a clear sign of neglect, if anything else. The fact that he wears his mother’s smock (and is willing to comfortably wear it in private with Lily in the scene before Hogwarts express) is an interesting detail to me. It feels like a rejection of his father and a sense of identification with his mother. With a person who he is comfortable with, he cuts an "impressive figure" with his smock. We see this detail pop up again in his textbook - where he is proud of being “Half A Prince”, emphasizing his magical lineage, his refuge in a violent, neglectful home.

Snape rejects his father (implied to be a violent man) by also rejecting hypermasculinity - as he tells sneeringly to James Potter: “If you’d rather be brawny, rather than brainy-” and by mocking “foolish wand waving” and how Potions is much more complex than that ("bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses" - thanks for some sensual imagery, Snape :D). His skillset, with the exception of Sectumsempra, is further testament to his rejection of hypermasculinity: Potions (a witches’ brew), spying (again, noted to be something women were famous for in war), branches of mind magic such as Occlumency. He is also strongly associated with mother figures - Eileen Prince (by his own admission), Lily Potter, Narcissa Malfoy. He has a feminine Patronus, in memory of his love and devotion to Lily. The insults also thrown his way are also emasculating: “Snivellus” “a lapdog”, and Dumbeldore’s own “a basket dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort”. So if he rejects his own father, who does he look to as a male figure to model himself after? After all, he does discard the smock quite eagerly when he gets on Hogwarts Express - so he is keen to perform masculinity.

But we see that teenage Snape and Adult Snape are entirely two different personas. Teenage Snape is anxious, twitchy and walks around like a spider. He swears, he is barely in control of his emotions, is often rendered incoherent when he is emotional and lashes out. And he lashes out in ways that is reflective of a power dynamic he models from home: he feels small, so he will look for someone else to make feel small.

Adult Snape, save for being around Harry where he regresses, is the opposite. He glides when he walks or "swoops like a bat" and if you see him in scenes apart from Harry’s, he is very in control of himself and his jabs are intended to discomfit rather than lashing out. (See the Bellatrix scene in Spinner’s End).

We don’t know too much about this phase of life - we can only speculate. Adult Snape has choice words to say when he witnesses Harry's lack of control over his emotions. He may have been speaking of himself: "Fools who wear their heart proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked so easily - weak people, in other words - they stand no chance against his powers!"

Speculation aside, what we do know is that teenage Snape shows signs of unstable identity, insecurity - all prime for grooming into a cult. He also shows a disorganised attachment style. His caregiver, his mother is too preoccupied by her own abuse to be there for her son - we see this in glimpses Harry sees in OOTP: " woman cowering" where a man shouts at her, and a young, neglected Snape cries in the corner. Children born in homes like this have trouble regulating their emotions, simultaneously displaying tendencies to aggressively lash out or show disassociative symptoms. Both of which Snape displays. Statistically, this is also seen more in low income households where economic instability and resulting domestic instability creates an unsafe environment for the kids to safely form ideas of their identity, or express emotions in healthy ways, modelling instead out of behaviour seen at home.

I believe Voldemort, as the man who has experimented with boundaries of magic in ways no one else has, is an attractive father figure for someone like Snape ( and Barty Jr. as well). After all, Snape spends his spare time inventing hexes, making great shortcuts to Potions. He has a genuine thirst for learning and is inventive and original. In SWM, we see that he has written far more longer answers than anyone else, he is poring over his paper after exams. Voldemort, as a man who pushed boundaries, is an attractive mentor who shows him a new path. Joining a cult not only gives you power and protection (one he desperately needs because of his social inferiority and as someone who is relentlessly bullied), but it also gives you an identity.

Cults usually instill a homogenous, stable identity centered around charismatic leader. Cults turn your unbearable feelings (sense of rejection, social inferiority), and externalise it and manage to a higher purpose. A cult acts as a safe container for people who cannot understand their trauma or overpowering feelings. As a boy with an unstable identity, it is easier for him to project on Voldemort and re-enact an attachment that he has rejected in early childhood: the one with his father. Voldemort also reinforces a world view that the system had taught a half blood working class boy with nowhere to go arrives at: "There is no good or evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it".

And then, Voldemort does something Snape doesn't believe a father figure could do, something he cannot conform to or abide by - he threatens the only relationship in his life that he puts on a pedestal. To ensure Lily Potter’s survival beyond asking Voldemort (who he no longer trusts to keep his word), he goes to Dumbledore. Why doesn't he trust Voldemort to keep his word? We don't really know, but given the dynamics we see at play in the first chapter of DH, where Voldemort employs Legliemency to confirm the information from Snape, the trusted spy who at that point had killed Dumbledore - it is safe to say ruling through absolute control can only take you so far. Contrast this with his later scenes with Dumbledore, where Dumbledore trusts him with magic he does not trust himself with: "I am very fortunate that I have you, Severus" .

But before we get there, we see their first scene. In his very first scene with Dumbledore, there is a power dynamic established. He visibly shrinks from Dumbledore’s judgement: “you disgust me”. He is also "stricken" when Dumbledore says "perhaps we sort too soon" - indicating a need for Dumbledore’s approval and validation. (Dumbledore’s own reaction to Snape is interesting - he doesn’t express this kind of strong disgust with Fenrir Greyback in HBP, for example. Perhaps he sees something of himself in this man who lost his way?)

Their next scene together is a grief stricken Snape, who has turned his misery and self loathing inwards and wishes to die. Dumbledore is cold, harsh: “What use will that be to anyone? If you truly loved Lily Evans, your way forward is clear”. Once Snape accepts the path of atonement Dumbledore lays out for him, Dumbledore is demonstrably gentler with him and is even exasperated that Snape asks him to keep “the very best of him” between them.

Once Dumbledore becomes his new father figure, Snape’s loyalty to him is absolute. He will back up and defend Dumbledore where it is not even required - when people accuse Dumbledore in GOF of being unfair, Snape is quick to say: "Don't blame Dumbledore for Potter's lack of respect for school rules. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he first came" (Defending Dumbledore and insulting Harry, he has a talent lol). And at the end of GOF, he shows his Dark Mark to Cornelius Fudge, essentially outing himself as a former Death Eater, to back up Dumbledore's claims because Fudge was insulting him. Even in front of Bellatrix, he emphasises: "Dumbledore is a great wizard, yes he has - the Dark Lord acknowledges it".

He is also resentful of Dumbledore's trust in Harry with secrets that he is not privy to. He enjoys being Dumbledore's closest confidant..("why may I not have the same secrets?" "You trust him, you do not trust me"). It's a less intense version of Harry's "This isn't love, this mess he has left me in. He shared a damn sight of what he was thinking with Grindelwald than with me”. He angrily tells Fake Moody that Dumbledore happens to trust him and he "refuses to believe" he gave permission to search his office. Similarly, he tells Umbridge "jerkily" to ask Dumbledore why he doesn't have the DADA job. Snape is offended at any suggestions of Dumbledore's lack of trust in him.

He also has a similar disillusionment like Harry's with Dumbledore - "you have used me. I have spied for you, lied for you, all intended to keep Lily Potter's son safe and now you are telling me he is being raised like a pig for slaughter". All of this and yet, just like Harry, he chooses to do what Dumbledore would have wanted of him. He goes as far as committing a sort of patricide, just like his former father figure (who did it for different reasons) on the wishes of his current father figure.

And ultimately, he chose Dumbledore's plan of Greater Good rather than Lily's fierce intention of keeping her son alive. It’s also interesting that Dumbledore, a queer, non conforming man is what Snape ultimately chooses as a father /mentor to his path of atonement.

There is a cyclical projection of father among all three boys: Harry inadvertently projects a desire for a father figure on Snape when he wishes that the Half-Blood Prince was his dad. (Read more about Harry’s relationship with Prince in wonderful meta by @thedreamermusing here) Snape projects a wish for a father figure by projecting on to Voldemort. Ultimately, both of them project this desire onto Dumbledore, and it is Dumbledore who ends up being the ultimate guide and father figure for both of them, guiding them through their respective roles in the war.

Thank you to @thedreamermusing and pet_genius for the inputs for this post 🌻 here is a suggested reading from pet's treasure trove relevant to this meta: Death Eaters As A Cult.

#severus snape #hp meta #harry potter meta #character analysis #albus Dumbledore #lord Voldemort #tom riddle #the half blood prince #pro snape #snapedom #snape community #the abandoned boys

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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Calling to join them the wretched and joyful

Summary: An ancient game is played in the forest of Asgard by the noblemen. To the winners, go the spoils.

Warnings: noncon sex (oral, fucking), magick.

Note: A Loki one shot I’ve been meaning to write. It’s is vaguely inspired by Richard Connell’s The Most Dangerous Game but obvi I gotta make it kinky. Lol. Thanks for reading <3

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help.

It was one of those cool summer mornings that foretells of autumn. The sun was yet to rise but the sky was woven in a rich blue. The trees clung to the night and loomed over the line of shivering women, scared and shivering in thin shifts.

You were one of the eight. Confused and silent as guards in golden armor watched over you with spear and sword. You wondered how much of a threat you could be; unarmed and exhausted.

They came in the night. Your mother clung to you as the guards tore you from her. Your sister Bera hid in the closet. Your mother could not lose two daughters. You bid her a frantic goodbye as your father held her back.

Your family's name had been drawn for the leikr. Rumours were whispered but they were easy to doubt; easy to dismiss without a royal proclamation. The ancient rite was abolished years ago but the new king brought back many other archaic laws. It seemed this was just another dusty scroll put back on the table.

Many thought Thor was a beacon of light after Odin's death but he quickly crushed the hopes of the people. The poor paid more to the rich and the aristocracy thrived on corruption and greed. The leikr was another of their little games. Another pleasure carried on the backs of peasants.

You crossed your arms and peered down the line of woman. Tilly, the butcher's daughter was there, her golden hair loose down her back. Hildi, a girl you knew from the market, too. Her round green eyes shone with tears. Yrsa, the statuesque redhead, was an only daughter; her parents would be distraught. The other girls you didn't know but they were from the same neighbourhood; the same streets that turned bleak in the eclipse of kings.

Before they led you out before the brush, the riki forest shadowy and ominous behind you, they brought you to the palace. The lower floors where the servants slept and worked. You were stripped of your sandals, if you wore any, and all but your thin sleeping gowns.

None of the woman dared speak, not since you had. A single question, a reasonable "what are you doing?" earned you a gauntlet cross your cheek. You felt the dried blood around the small cut, the swelling of the bruised flesh. The others looked to you when they thought to speak up and quickly forgot their words.

Finally, the dirt stirred and the approach of horses sounded. The voices of men and snorts of horses broke the eerie still of the morning. You shivered in time with the other women. Tilly sniffed and Hildi covered her face.

"Enough," A guard approached Tilly. "The king doesn't want to see your tears." He moved along and ripped Hildi's hands from her face. "Stand straight. When your king arrives, you bow your head and keep quiet."

He shoved Hildi's arm down and stepped back. You watched as the nobles appeared along the wide path. The King's golden hair streamed over his shoulders, the waves soft and thick. His men Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun kept their horses just a foot behind his. They laughed as they led the others into the clearing before the Riki.

The guards stood at alert as Thor drew his horse up and the other men lined up beside him. Volstagg made lewd jokes to Hogun as his eyes devoured the women stood before the trees. Fandral shook his head with a smirk as he passed and brought his steed into order. The other nobles chattered here and there as they followed suit. Many stared overtly at the thinly clad peasants.

Tilly leaned on Yrsa and whispered that she would faint. The redhead nudged the blond onto her feet and warned her to keep in line. You snapped your head forward and lowered it as you recalled the guard’s orders.

You peeked up at the last of the nobles. Lords Broddi, Reinn, and Ornulf leered at the trembling women and Prince Loki brought up the rear with a lazy glance towards the forest. You lowered your eyes and braced yourself for what was to come.

"Ladies," Thor greeted above the din. The men laughed, amused at lowly women receiving such a title from the king. "Welcome to the leikr. Your families have been honoured, chosen by the gods, and yourselves are the anointed."

The words made your blood curdle and you clasped your hands together. You bit down and snarled at the malice hidden behind pretty words. The leikr had long been the terror of wives tales; an ancient barbarism meant for storybooks. Even Odin had decried it.

"Before the day is over, you will be blessed with glorious purpose. To serve your sacred king and his lords, each borne of gods' blood."

You looked up again as the fury seared your veins. You glared at the king and your gaze drifted down the line of smug nobles. Some whispered and pointed to the woman they preferred. At the end of the line, your eyes met with another's.

Loki, to that point disinterested, noticed your silent loathing. His brow arched as he tilted his head and you quickly bowed your chin once more. You peeked over at the other women, cowering on bare feet and prone in barely there linen.

"But first there is the fun part. The selection, the game." Thor carried on. "You will have an hour to yourselves. To run, to hide. Should any remain undiscovered till the next dawn, they shall be allowed back to their former lot. Unchosen and unclaimed, you will not be bound by the law of the leikr."

The men chuckled again. That had never happened. None had yet evaded the leikr.

"Thus, without further ado, I shall appease my men's impatience, and declare the leikr begun." Thor announced. "Your hour commences now."

Silence rose around you. You looked to the other girls as they turned to each other in confusion. You turned back to the men, entertained by the clueless women, and your heart seized. You spun around and raced towards the trees. In a moment, several others followed as you plunged into the depths of the forest. The guffaws and shouts of the men rose and faded behind you.

You were lost. Not that it mattered. Perhaps the best thing that could happen was to lose yourself so entirely that none could find you. To perish out here, perhaps was a better fate than to be found.

You heard horses before and quickly charged in the opposite direction. Your stomach plummeted as you ignored the calls of other women when they found themselves sighted. You felt grimy beyond the mud on your feet. This was a self-serving game all around.

Out of breath, you came upon an arm of the river that pooled beneath a great oak. You were thirsty and unconcerned by the water's quality. It looked clear enough. You neared edge and cupped a hand to dip into the depths.

As you sipped from your palm, you heard it. The snap of a twig. Distant but close enough. You blinked and peered around at the wraith-like trees. You heard a hoof and then another. You held in the gasp as you tried to measure the direction of the approach.

You couldn't tell as all noise seemed to surround you. You lowered yourself onto your bottom and eased into the water, careful not to make too much commotion. It was cold against your hot skin and your feet met the silty bottom.

You moved carefully towards the base of the tree, beneath a hole that housed the wild. A bear could sleep there but worse predators chased you. You reached the twisted roots curled beneath the lip of the cave and stepped into the darkness.

You turned and covered your chattering teeth. The hooves grew closer, the twigs snapped, the dirty crunched, the clink of metal sharpened. You waited as you listened to their approach. The sound of boots on the ground as they dismounted.

Whoever it was made careful inspection of the river's edge. The water swirled softly around you and you clung to a gnarled root to keep yourself still. A subtle splash of water as they stooped to drink as you had.

Then, another set of hooves sounded. The panting of a horse as it came upon the shore. "Brother," It must have been Loki as you knew Thor's voice but not his. "Tired already?"

"This is a hunt, you know it is more than just riding around. We must track our game." Thor replied. "Thought I heard something but it must've been a critter."

"Mmm," The second-born hummed.

"I wanted the blond. The one with the teary eyes but Volstagg claimed her before I could."

"Pathetic thing. Not worthy of a king." Loki remarked. "Who do you seek now?"

"The redhead perhaps." Thor answered. "Nice hips. I wouldn't mind a bastard. And you? Have you a fancy for any or do you only come to humour me?"

"This is not my type of game," Loki said. "By rite, I have come along but my preference remains uninspired."

"Oh brother, I know you." Thor returned. "Unlike the others, I saw your pique." Thor grunted as he climbed back on his horse. "That plain one. The angry one. You might just have her because the other men barely noticed the creature."

"They are all the same to me," Loki chuckled. "I think I shall enjoy this little ride through the forest and see if perhaps this year the leikr will see a woman free."

"Mischievous as you are, you cannot lie to me, brother." You listened as the hooves moved slowly through the dirt. "Come on. Follow the river and we will surely stumble upon one soon. The sun grows hot and the air stolid. They will thirst."

“After you,” Loki intoned and you waited for their horses to trot away. The brothers called after each other and you stayed a little longer in the water. Making sure they were truly gone.

When you climbed out, your shift was soaked to your chest and you shivered as you dragged yourself up onto the dirty shore. Streaks of mud lined your nightgown and you crossed your arms as the late afternoon sun slipped through the leaves above and warmed your damp skin.

You began in the direction opposite to where the royal brothers had departed. You climbed up around the great oak and looked off into the untrodden brush behind. Your feet were sore already, scratched and raw from the forest floor. The branches above were thicker and closer together, slowly blotting out the sun the deeper your went.

Ten, maybe twelve feet into the woody umbrage, you heard it. Like a whisper. The subtle whish of fabric around the lithe figure. You turned slowly to face the green eyes as they shone in the dim. You sighed and took a step back as Loki grinned at you.

“My illusions tend to work on the untrained eye, though my brother is just as gullible,” He began. “You couldn’t see me though so how were you to know?”

You continued backward, feeling out each step with your feet. He followed at a similar pace.

“You said you did not like this game,” You said. “So why seek me out?”

“What I say is not always as I feel,” He reached up an unclasped his rich green cloak. “You’re cold. If you come with me, you will be warm. For so long as you wish.”

“I don’t wish it,” You insisted as you continued to walk back into the thickening brush. “I’d rather freeze.”

“Those other men are just lords. I am a prince,” He declared. “Would you rather be used for the night and discarded in the morning. What is left to the leikr woman but a life of whoredom?”

“There are seven other girls.”

“Two. The others were not so clever.” He corrected. “My brother will catch the red head soon enough and the black-haired baker’s daughter isn’t very quick.”

“You could go and let me disappear here. Walk away from the leikr for your boredom---”

“No, I cannot. To be the first to walk away without a prize would be worse than any shame thrust upon me by my brother.” He took a big step and you did too. “Come on, pet,” He held out his cloak. “This needn’t be tedious.”

You stared at him, searching for an ounce of empathy. There was none to be had in his gemlike eyes. You turned and dove into the trees only to be stopped by something quite solid. You looked up as the hands closed around your upper arms and held you in place.

Loki smirked as you glanced over your shoulder at the emptiness behind you. He had his cloak on his shoulders again but his eyes were no longer so hollow. You cringed as you realized his deception. The trickery he was known for. How easy you’d fallen for it.

“I am not of the mood to run after you any longer,” He said. “So come with me timidly or I shall drag you from here kicking and screaming. Your choice will be met with appropriate consequences.”

“Let me go!” You pushed against him. “You monster. You pretend not to be but you are as vile as the rest of them.”

He laughed as you struggled against his unyielding grip. He bent as he slid his hands down your arms and scooped you up over his shoulder in a single motion. You cried out and beat on his back as he carried you back towards the great oak. He was cautious on the decline that led around to the tree and when he came onto even ground, his steps were more swift.

He whistled and the black stallion he rode emerged from the trees, a blade of grass stuck to its lip. He neared the beast and as he rounded it, the beast sniffed your hair and huffed its hot breath down your neck. He chuckled and flipped you up onto your feet. He held your wrist as he stirred with his other hand in his saddlebag. You tried to wrench away from him but only twisted your own arm painfully.

He pulled out a rope and turned you easily and pressed you against the side of the horse. You could smell the stable, the leaves, and sweat of the stallion. He wound the length around your wrists so tightly you were certain your fingers would balloon. He took another and wrapped it around your ankles until you were bound up firmly.

He spun you back to face him and you threatened to topple over. He caught your shoulder and you leaned against the horse. He reached into his bag again as the steed dipped his head to chew on the thin grass.

“Myrkr doesn’t usually like strangers,” He mused as he pulled out a bundle. “Are you hungry?”

You sneered at him and said nothing.

“Well, if you don’t eat now, you’ll not eat for hours to come.” He warned. “So you can sit and let me feed you. A small respite before your duty begins or you can starve and wallow in misery.”

You shrugged and lowered your head. You didn’t care either way. Your appetite wasn’t especially ravenous despite your hours of running. He tucked the bundle under his arm and grabbed your elbow. He led you around the horse as you hopped clumsily. He sat you down in the dirt and unwrapped his fare.

He knelt and watched you, his face foretold of unspoken remarks. He offered you a heel of bread, holding it as you took a bite. Inner musings that irked you more and more. You watched the river just feet away and imagined yourself washing away with the stream. You chewed but didn’t taste the grainy loaf.

“I am most pleased I didn’t pursue that moping mess of a mouse,” He said as he cut a small piece of cheese from the aged chunk. “How interesting you are, pet. Even as you look away, I can feel the loathing.” Your eyes flicked to him as he offered you the cheese. “That won’t last long, I promise.”

The other girls were filthier. Evening set as you came upon the clearing. Loki had you across the saddle as he led his stallion from the path. Tilly wept as she sat on the ground. Her face was red with tears and the bright hand mark across her cheek. Each woman was separated from the others, waiting beside the horse of their respective captor.

Yrsa’s dress was torn and exposed her milky breasts. She stood with her eyes to the ground, her wrists in golden cuffs. The king sent lurid glances her way as he japed with his men. They turned as Loki appeared from the trees, his expression blank, his steps even and unhurried. Thor laughed and boomed as his brother approached.

“I knew you would catch her, brother,” He hollered. “Late but not lost.”

“Do not fret for me. We both know you’d not have caught the scarlet haired wench were it not for my sharp eye.” Loki returned.

Thor sighed and turned back to his men. “Well, I declare this leikr foremost a success and secondly, at an end. At least, the game itself. We have some fun ahead of us, don’t we men.”

The lords laughed and you winced. You looked around as best you could at the other woman. They were pulled from their silent surrender back to reality. Some were tied like you, others were too weak to resist, too scared. They were lifted and slung over saddles like you as the men mounted and settled in.

Loki climbed up behind you in kind, shifting you closer to the horse’s shoulders. He waited as the others kicked their steeds into step before he did the same. He kept to the rear, you felt a tickle along your arm. He held the reins with one hand as his other traced between your shoulders and down your spine.

“You see,” He kept his voice low, “It could be worse. The blonde won’t be able to walk tomorrow and when she does, she’ll work the streets where she was raised. The red-haired beauty might warm my brother’s bed for more than a night but only until he finds his next delight.”

You didn’t say a word. Your stomach hurt as you bounced with the movement of the horse. Loki’s fingers played with the dirty fabric along your hip.

“Be good and I’ll not send you to the gutter.” He continued. “You could be a maid, or a cook. If I like you enough...well, we will wait for promises.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Painful because of your position, more so due to your predicament. When at last the palace came into sight and the horses followed the road to the rear gate, the night bloomed completely. The moon shone in a half crescent and winked above you as the horse continued to jostle your body.

There was a flurry as the men entered the courtyard and attendants rushed to aid their returning masters. Loki dropped down with a lingering touch along your side. He handed the reins to a small boy with straw like hair and patted his shoulder. Servants emerged and offered refreshments to the nobles who left their prizes with their steeds.

Each woman was pulled down without grace and rushed in away from the lords. Your binds were left as they were and you hopped behind the rest of them. Inside the palace, it was dark and a scurry of skirts and aprons surrounded you. Your feet were cut loose but your hands left tied.

The parade of dirtied women was led down a flight of stairs and along a lower corridor. At each, a woman was left with a couple servants and closed up behind the dungeon like doors. You were the last, filled with the same panic more overtly displayed by the others. You were herded inside and two servants remained within as the lock was bolted into place.

“Get her in the tub,” The elder of the two commanded the other. “She’s filthy.”

Neither would look at you as they went about their work. The younger loosed your hands and you stood numb. The shock set in, the grim acceptance crawled down your spine. You were undressed roughly as the room blurred and made your head spin.

“The prince has arranged everything. Make her as presentable as you can.” The older servant explained.

“The prince seeks a lover at last and he chooses her?” The other bemoaned.

“Quiet, girl,” The other retorted. “You think he would want for you? Be her a commoner herself, do not envy her lot.”

The other pursed her lips and stayed silent as she shook her head at her companion. You let them lead you to the large metal tub and you stepped into the steamy water. As you lowered yourself, the fog filled your mind and added to the sudden haze. This could not be.

When the women finished washing you, they dressed you in a sheer green gown and gold sandals. They styled your hair and powdered your bruised face. Dark liner around your eyes and the rosy lip stain made you feel inhuman.

You weren't you anymore, you thought, you were his.

They placed a black rope over the sultry green attire and the door was unlocked at their tapping. You'd heard other doors before, small voices, frightened and pleading. You gulped down your fear and tried not to shake. You wouldn't go with cowardice but with stubborn defiance. Defy the fates and their efforts to crush you.

A twisted stairwell, hidden behind a small door, wound up and up and up. The higher corridors were brighter, lit by golden lamps, lined in red carpet and intricate tapestry. Empty given the hour but you imagined it bustled with gossip and pretension in daylight's grace.

You were stopped at another door. The older servant knocked and the handle clicked. No answer came and you felt a gentle nudge.

"Go on. He will not wait long." The old maid said. "Best not to test his patience."

You took a breath and reached for the handle. She waited for you to open the door and as you stepped inside she reached to grab the golden handle after you. She waited until you were past the threshold and pulled it shut.

You turned and looked around. Your ears rang in the silence, the closing of the door echoed in your head. It was a receiving chamber, a large desk faced you, a grand chair behind it. Green velvet covered chair and sofa, tables of ebony complimented the rich decorations.

"This way, pet," You looked to Loki as he leaned on the door frame to your left. He wore a pair of black silk pants and nothing more. "Unless you prefer the desk to a bed."

You frowned and hesitated before your body responded. Don't let him see you quake. You neared him and he offered his hand to you. You stared at his palm, his slender fingers, his snare-like hand. You took it without a word.

"You look better," He said. "Not so plain now."

You kept your eyes averted as he led you through the door. You looked at carpet, canopy, and curtain before you dared turn to him. As immaculate as the first room. He released you as he let you precede him. He pulled the door closed after him.

"A drink? Wine?" He ventured. "I could send for ale."

You shook your head and he tutted. He caught your wrist before you could move further from him. He turned you to face him.

"You'll have to use your words. I am still a prince and you are still a peasant. ‘Your grace’ or ‘my prince should do’." He smirked. "I prefer the latter."

"I am not thirsty, my grace," You said.

"Eager?" He teased.

You tried to pull away but he was stronger than he looked. He might be slimmer than his brother but certainly not weaker. He unballed your fist with his other hand and placed it flat against his chest. You felt the muscle and at last let yourself look.

"Remove your robe," He released you and stepped away.

You noticed the way the silk twitched along his crotch. He backed away and sat in a chair by the small round table. He reached for his crystal goblet and drank.

"Your grace."

You pulled loose the belt and the robe fell open. You let it slip down from your shoulders and folded it over your arm.

"On the chair," He arched a brow as he set aside his cup. "I'd like a good look at you."

You draped the robe over the back of the other chair and stepped back. You knew the light from the sconces thinned the material and bared all. You stood before him, stiff as you fought not to quiver.

"Well," He leaned on his elbow. "You look ravishing in green, pet."

Your lips were straight but you forced them apart. "Thank you, your grace."

"Let's work on your obedience." He said. "You can try to hide it but I see that little spark. So let's see how good a pet you can be."

"Your grace."

"I hear it too," He chimed. "Sounds a lot like a curse when you say it."

You cleared your throat and repeated yourself. He chuckled.

"Take the dress off." He ordered. "I want to see all of you."

You gave him his title again and inhaled. You reached to slip the straps from your shoulders. You didn't look at Loki, rather past him. Every inch of flesh bared made it harder not to shudder.

You paused before you let the fabric below your chest and over your stomach. You bent to step out of the skirts and stood with the dress in hand. You relinquished the gown to the chair with the robe and kicked the sandals from your feet.

Your turned again to Loki and waited. He didn't move but you felt his gaze. Heard his breath as it wisped between his lips.

"Get down. On your knees." You swallowed and obeyed. "Now…" He pushed his legs apart and his hand rubbed along his thigh, just around his arousal. "Crawl to me, pet."

You blanched and met his eyes. He grinned and pushed his shoulders back. Your jaw tensed as you bit down. Your anger burned through your humiliation and fear. You hated this. You hated him.

"Let me warn you, I do not like to repeat myself so if you insist on disobedience, I will bend you to my will with more than words."

You slowly let yourself down onto your hands. You didn't look away as you began to crawl across the carpet. You stopped before him and waited. You peered up at him and felt another surge within.

"Good pet," He purred and lifted himself slightly from the chair. He lifted the silk over his lap and past his arousal. He sat back as his cock stood against his stomach, just above the top of the black pants. "Now, I want you to put that scowling little mouth of yours to use."

You sat back on your heels and finally you had to look away. You knew what he was asking. You'd done it once with Brenn, the smith just down the road from your father. It hadn't gone much further once you met his wife. The introduction being his first allusion to his marriage.

You grabbed Loki's thighs and drew yourself close. Your fingers stretched over the silk. You wanted it done with. He said if you were good, you could live as a servant. You might not be left to the streets; discarded and disgraced.

You slid your hand over and gripped the base of his cock. He was thicker than you expected. Long, too. The veins stood out against your palm and he groaned as you bent your head over his lap.

You hovered your lips over his tip and when you touched his cock, you slowly parted them. Just the tip at first, you swirled your tongue and pulled back, easing him in and out. You teased the most sensitive part of him and he gripped the arms of the chair.

"Oho, you've...done this before." He breathed.

You didn't stop. You had to keep going because once you stopped, you wouldn't be able to go on. You took a little more of him and his hum rose with delight. You pressed tongue to his shaft and moved up and down his length until your mouth met your hand. Then you worked them in tandem.

He squirmed and his hand went to the back of your head. "Oh, pet, you are surpri--sing.” He gasped. "More. More. Take all of me."

He reached down and pulled on your arm until your hand slipped away. He pushed your head down until you choked and held you at your limit. Your nails dug into his thigh but he only seemed to enjoy the pain.

When he relented you pulled back but not entirely. You kept your lips around him and carried on. You let his hand guide your head and bobbed up and down his length. Your jaw ached as the saliva gathered and dripped down his cock.

"Gods," He swore and fisted your hair.

He pulled you off him and grabbed his cock. He stroked himself as he slid forward on the chair and held your head back. You closed your eyes as he grunted and his cum spurted across your face, along your nose and lips and across your cheek.

He let go as he finished and fell back in his chair. He panted and you opened your eyes. There was cum on his pants too and you reached to wipe away that on your face.

"Don't," He warned. "Leave it. A prince's seed is gift. You should wear it with pride."

He grabbed the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet. You fell back onto your ass as he stood, he hadn't softened at all. He pushed his pants down until they fell to his ankles and stepped out of them and strode past you. He looked around the room as he rubbed his chin.

"My pet, I can't decide where to fuck you," He taunted. "Shall I bend you over the bed? Maybe take you on your back? Perhaps against the wall?" He put his hands on his hips and turned to once more present his erection to you. "Tell me, are you wet?"

You shook your head. A lie. He laughed and dropped his hands.

"No?" He neared. "Show me then. Touch yourself and show me how dry you are."

"Your grace," You croaked and your hand felt heavy as pushed it between your legs. You were sopping and when you pulled away, your fingers glistened in the glow of the chamber.

"Do not lie to me, pet," He grabbed your wrist and yanked you up to your feet. He forced your hand up and shoved your fingers into his mouth as he sucked your juices off them. "Delicious."

He released you and played with himself as he once more considered the room and walked to the side of the bed.

"Get on the bed. On your knees." He pointed to the wide mattress. "Back to me."

You walked towards him and stood between him and the bed. You climbed up before him and walked forward on your knees until you were just past the edge. You stopped and waited.

The mattress dipped behind you as he got up too. He pressed himself to your back, his cock bobbed against your ass. He snaked his arm around you and slowly inched down your stomach and along your vee. He forced his hand between your legs and rubbed you with two fingers.

His other hand came around and grasped your chest. He held you against him and toyed with your nipple and clit at the same time. Your breath picked up, a tell, and he bent to nuzzle your head.

"Oh, pet, I told you it wouldn't last," He twirled his fingers. "You want me. You can hate me but you want me too."

You gritted your teeth as he plucked at your nerves. As your shallow breaths turned to barely muffled moans and your body buzzed against his. You twitched and your hand pressed against his as he stirred your body to a boil. You came with a spasm and a squeak and he purred into your hair.

"I want it too. I didn't. I thought this game was a joke but I want you, pet." He reached between you and gripped his cock. He led it along your ass and leaned into you. "I want to feel you around me."

He slipped down along your entrance as his other hand fell to your pelvis. He pushed until you were forced to arch your back. His tip tickled your folds and he guided it with his fingers.

He rested the head of his cock there and pressed until you stretched around his tip. He gasped and you did too. You couldn't resist the ache in your walls that called for any relief. Even him. You pushed back onto him and took more.

He once more began to play with your clit as he eased himself into you. Little by little until he filled you entirely. His other hand trailed up your stomach and his fingers hooked over your shoulder as your spine curved to accommodate him.

"I want more than you, my pet. I want all of me in you." He pushed again and you moaned. You might've been at your limit but he wasn't. "I want to put my seed in you."

He thrust and groaned. He buried himself as deep as he could go and held himself there as you squirmed. He did it again and again and again until your body longed for the pain of it.

"I want to watch you grow, my pet. To see the life blossom inside of you," He rocked steadily into you. "Because of me. Because I willed it."

You reached back to touch his thighs. Wanting him to keep going and stop all at once. Your body was in turmoil. The battle within threatened to tear you in half.

"Tell me you want my seed," He sped up and the sound of his flesh and yours filled the room. "Tell me you want me."

"I…" You breathed between thrusts. "I...want...you."

The lie was easy if it meant you were closer. Closer to the end. Closer to release. You moaned as your walls clung to him.

He impaled you entirely, again he lingered in your warmth before starting again. This time harder and faster. He contorted your body to fit his and his hand wrapped around your throat.

"'I want you, my prince.'" He corrected, each word followed by a sharp thrust.

"I. Want. You. My. P-p-prince." You latched onto his wrist as you struggled to breathe.

He pounded into you, nearly taking you off the bed with each plunge. Your moans mingled with the slap of flesh on flesh and his groans were hot against your ear.

You came, a cry betrayed you, and he nipped at your ear. He relished your orgasm, an unwilling white flag as he chased another. You shook again in another flash of ecstasy and his grip tightened on your neck.

"Gods, oh my pet, I'm….oh."

You felt him cum. He filled you as he shuddered. He fucked his seed deep inside of you and didn't slow until he was out of breath. He let go of your throat and leaned on you until you were forced onto your stomach. He fell atop you, still inside of you.

"Oh, my pet," He wiggled his hips. "I think I might just keep you."

#loki #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #loki x reader #fic #thor #one shot #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic

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alternativewinxcontinuity · 3 years

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Ooooo tell ur dark lore fusion

Well the votes are in:

busy-saving-the-universe

yes please!

knightsofeclipse

I wanna know!

Okay! Spoiler warnings for Alt Con stuff.

(I keep wavering back and forth between: “you are such an alarmist self, it's not that bad” and: “this is horrible, why would you write this? Self, you hypocrite! You're complaining about the dark and gritty and then you come up with this?!”)

Phlegethon and the Fairy Hunters

The first thing I should mention is that I changed Valtor's backstory. Obviously I've spoken about his backstory before, mostly in the Fate of the Nymphs, but what I haven't explained is his actual origins.

I didn't like the idea of 'a single spark of the Dragon Fire falling by itself and landing in darkness' because it was such a nebulous concept. Why were the Ancestral Witches the first to find this spark? How long ago was it? Why take so long to attack Domino?

So I created a new character.

She appears in the Spotlight in Domino post, though at the time she was unnamed. A Vessel of the Dragon Fire who decided she was (Capital 'G') God, and tried to take over the Magical Dimension until she was stopped by her sister and killed.

Unfortunately, before her body could be cremated as per custom, it was stolen by the remnants of her cult and ferried to a secret location that went undiscovered.

Until the Ancestral Witches finally found it “a few years” before the First Siege of Domino.

She is effectively the fourth of Valtor's Mothers. The Ancestral Witches used the lingering trace of Dragon Flame in her preserved corpse, combined with their own magics, to make Valtor.

(This info was for the between season 3|5 and season 5 break as a small side mission for the Winx.)

The second thing I'm gonna mention is how I chose her name:

Season 6 villain Acheron, shares his name with a river from Greek Myth, specifically one of the 5 Rivers of Hades, Acheron river of Pain.

While writing up Bloom and the Haunted Mansion synopsis, I wanted the villain trapped in the Mirror World to be one who could act as a connection to the Magical Dimension, without breaking canon, so I turned to our known trapped in a book villain for ideas.

The other four rivers are Styx, river of Hatred, Lethe, river of forgetfulness, Cocytus, river of wailing, and Phlegethon, the river of Fire (which leads to Tartarus, the super bad place in Hades.)

So the Vessel became Phlegethon, part of a Circle of ne'er do wells and Villains So Horrible and Powerful, most of them could only be trapped at the time.

Third information point:

The Gloomix of the Alt Con involves stealing the magical powers of a Fairy to bolster one's own skills. You know, like Fairy Hunters?

The Part where it gets Darker than ever (the result of the four* points of information):

So I'm hanging out my washing and my brain is trying to further iron out the timeline and goes:

How long have Fairy Hunters been A Thing? Were they around Before Phlegethon, or only after?

And everything came crashing down in a sudden realisation:

After.

Fairy Hunters came After Phlegethon died.

The original Fairy Hunters were her Cult trying to bring her back from the dead by ripping out the cores of other fairies to rejuvenate her when all the fairies who belonged to her Cult ripped out their own in sacrifice and it still wasn't enough.

(hundreds of) Thousands of fairies dying horrifically in a fruitless attempt to bring back a dead madwoman, on and on and on, until even the Cult members started to doubt any amount would be enough to restore her, but continued to Hunt fairies for their cores because the Power it gave the Hunters was more than they'd ever felt in their lives and why should they stop?

Who could stop them?

A Vessel, a fairy who represents the gift of life itself, the touch of the Creator of the Magical Dimension, who's job it is to oversee the peace and prosperity of all life in the Magical Dimension, is the cause for one of the most Terrifying Mass-Murder Sprees the Magical Dimension has ever or will ever know.

Gave rise to the dark art that allows Fairy Hunters to crop up every now and then and do it all over again.

The Ancestral Witches, an Unwitting Full Circle (*the fourth point of information):

The Ancestral Witches were the First Witches, born as Fairies of a single mother and no father, they were conceived in part by magic to tame the world of Calamity, Carabossa.

Under their reign, the world and it's colonies prospered, until the Great Fairy Hunts, and their world's entire population was wiped out.

Except for the Ancestral Witches, whose unique circumstance of birth, connection to one another, and whose primal rage allowed them to hold onto life just long enough for a Being of Power to interfere.

Darkar, Lord of Corruption, saved them and taught them the most malicious magics of the Magical Dimension, allowing them to survive the magical and physical trauma, regain their stolen strength and seek vengeance for their loss.

When they felt strong enough they cast Darkar away and went on to help the victims of the Hunters who survived long enough to receive their help, they harboured, healed and trained the entire first true generation of witches and lead a bloody campaign of vengeance which would ultimately stop the First Great Fairy Hunt.

Unfortunately, the trio would never truly recover from their trauma, and with their unnaturally long lifespans that fear became paranoia, which would became a thirst for power so strong they would become the very monsters they loathed, and lead to the destruction of Domino.

#winx alt con #Winx Alternative Continuity #I accidentally sprinkled some Grimdark in my sparkly fairy story #Winx Alt Con History #I'm so sorry internet

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thegreymoon · 4 years

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How hot is the character: Webb and Keegan Sherman 😏

*dodges sharp objects and runs into hiding*

I know, I know!! 😫 Just hear me out on this one, OK?

First of all, let me just make it clear that this was absolutely deliberate on the show’s part. The whole point of this character (characters?) is that they are physical perfection and should be so hot, they would set the scenery on fire wherever they pass, yet they are so fantastically creepy, the hotness is just lost and you are sitting there, laughing uncomfortably, going what the everloving fuck?? 😅

Also, let me make it clear, this is yet another role where we see just how absolutely talented Bradley is, he is just gifted when it comes to comedy (not that he doesn’t do the serious, dramatic roles perfectly too, as we all have Damien to attest to that).

All the characters in this show are caricatures to a greater or lesser degree, the villains are all ridiculous and hilarious. The Sherman twins are so incredibly unlikeable in every possible way, but they are absolutely entertaining! At one point, Leah describes them as “these creepy twins” and it couldn’t be more accurate! When I say “not my type”, I mean, they are exactly what you would expect a cartoon villain in a cartoon to be like; they are obscenely rich, live in this bubble of privilege and self-indulgence and are completely devoid of all empathy and conscience. Of course, this is carefully tailored to provoke a certain level of disgust in the target audience, considering the sociopolitical climate we are currently living in and the outrageous, ever-growing gap between the rich and the poor. The Sherman twins are a cardboard cutout of the sociopathic billionaire we all reserve our unrestrained loathing for.

Mind you, physically attractiveness aside, the moral failings of various kinds of villains have never stopped anyone from thirsting after them (Kylo Ren and the clown from It come to mind, but hey, I have a loooooong list of my own guilty sins so I’m really not judging). However, one thing this show is extremely good at is taking obviously hot people and situations that should be sexy by all established norms of modern media and making them as unsexy as they possibly can in the most obvious but understated ways.

The Sherman twins are such a great example of this. Let’s start with their introduction scenes; the fencing duel is such an obvious, tropey thirst trap! It’s written and designed in a way that should (stereotypically) hit all the right buttons. Like, Bradley, goddamn:

But then they go and do *this*:

Poof! All sexiness evaporated (and everyone who has watched this show will know exactly what I’m talking about 😂😂)!

Also, let’s talk about the incest. I was expecting the subtext (I’d seen all the stills and gifs, after all), but come on now, that is not subtext, it couldn’t be more obvious and there is not a single scene with the two of them together that does not rub it in! Mind you, sibling incest, especially twincest, also never stopped anyone from thirsting (yours truly here pleads the Fifth, not that her AO3 is any kind of evidence against her or anything 🙄🙄), but these two are just so goddamn creepy as individuals and as a pair.

With all that said and the general understanding that the Sherman twins are the actual worst, Bradley James himself in this role is:

| 🔥🔥LORD MERCY🔥🔥 |

I mean, this man is a Greek statue, OMG 😭 If he was born in the ancient times, I’m convinced he would be worshipped as a demigod or something:

Honourable mention to these strategically placed flowers:

And the infamous handjob scene:

(When this happened, I howled, I can’t believe they actually went there! Anyway, yes, the resulting mental imagery was very much appreciated! 😂😂)

In conclusion: Bradley James is perfection, news at 11, but I am going to take this opportunity to warmly recommend this show to anyone who has not seen it because, sadly, it doesn’t look like it’s getting much traction and I was shocked by how vicious the reviews on IMDb were when this is, hands down, one of the best things I’ve watched recently.

The show is just hilarious, almost the entire cast is amazing, I loved every second and binge-watched the first season without even noticing! There was not a dull moment for the whole six episodes! It was such a breath of fresh air in all the cliched, poorly written, depressing nonsenseI’ve been watching lately and the pointless violence and unapologetic misogyny masquerading as being ‘gritty’, ‘edgy’ and ‘realistic’.

Don’t get me wrong, Bounty Hunters is both shockingly violent and incredibly filthy (seriously, I did not expect that amount of graphic, brutal death going in), but it works. I am also not a fan of comedy in general, humour very rarely clicks for me, but this had me sobbing! The characters are so vibrant, vivid and interesting (with the exception of Nina’s niece 😫 Seriously, who did that girl have dirt on to get hired, she can’t act to save her life and was, beyond a doubt, the worst part of the show and her scenes were the only ones to pull me out of the story, but they managed to do it every single time, she is that bad 😖)!

The main villains were all delightfully unlikeable and evil (with the exception of the ISIS bunch, who had zero charisma or interesting points and were just kind of… there). The Sherman twins were terrible but hilarious, the cartel was one of my favourite things in the show, Barnaby’s father was just so sleazy but I think that particular actor could make me laugh at anything! Barnaby and Nina are the only actual ‘goodies’ in the show (their words 😂😂) but they are so flawed and ridiculous and not afraid to laugh at their own expense! I just loved them! (Also, their mothers were a piece of work, Barnaby’s mother in particular, that woman is gifted, I swear 😂😂)

And I am really digressing here, but I just have to talk about those reviews on IMDb because I personally found the worst of the complaints completely ridiculous and something I couldn’t disagree with more! They mostly seemed to have an issue with the unapologetic violence, but for me, that was a part of the charm and there is no rule that says that comedy should be kid and family-friendly. I thought this was sufficiently grim without going overboard into exploitative and gross, and in spite of the dark undertones, the overall theme of the show is family, loyalty and love. Also, the second thing that really stuck out to me is that some people really seem to have an issue with the lead actress being an older woman, some complete moron called her a grandma in a derogatory fashion and said that she cannot be ‘a badass woman’ because of it (or a romantic interest, I imagine). Personally, I loved the unusual age difference, where, for once, the woman gets to be the older, more experienced and the more badass one, and the man gets to be young, pretty and naive. They don’t actually get together in the first season (I don’t know about the second one, I haven’t gotten around to it yet), but I personally enjoyed their will-they-won’t they and all the banter (seriously, I have not actively shipped the two het m/f leads in a show in ages). Besides, Barnaby and Nina have crazy amounts of chemistry together and I could totally get behind the two of them having all the filthy, kinky sex they can physically manage! Not to mention, I find it so incredibly offensive that an older woman somehow can no longer be hot of badass (and Nina is so, so hot and badass) and it is depressing that in the year of our Lord 2020 we still have to deal with this sexist, ageist, misogynistic tripe. If the ages were reversed, I promise you, nobody would be complaining! /end rant

And since I’m already way, way off-topic (and the general topic is all about hot people, after all), I’d just like to gush about these two 🔥🔥 LORD MERCY 🔥🔥 individuals, because goddamn:

This is Charity Wakefield, she plays Leah in the show (who is an absolute delight), and she is, IMO, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen 😍

And this smouldering piece of perfection is Christian Ochoa:

And these two stupid hot people somehow manage to have the least sexy sex in the history of TV (multiple times!!) and make a demon baby together (I hope, but like I said, I haven’t season 2 yet) 😂 As I mentioned earlier, this show loves to mess with our expectations of perceived hotness and I found it so refreshing and hilarious! 😂😂

I fully admit that if it wasn’t for Bradley James, Bounty Hunters is something that I would never have picked up (I very much doubt it would have even crossed my radar because I really am not a fan of comedies in general), but I am very, very grateful that I did! I am looking forward to season 2 and I read that season 3 is also in the works (please, Bradley, come back for that one too and do some more nude scenes with strategically placed flowers, we are all begging)! 😜

#how hot is that character #bradley james #bounty hunters #the sherman brothers #webb sherman #keegan sherman #sherman twins #charity wakefield #christian ochoa #damien is coming next #big sorry to the anons waiting for these #i just have so many opinions #and so much typing to do #i can't manage it on my phone without a keyboard #and these last few weeks have been hellish with work #and all the viruses i regularly pick up on public transport #Anonymous

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umbane · 4 years

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Kayn was born and raised into violence. He was taught by his fantastically abusive family that no one would fight for him, so he had to do it all himself. This mentality quickly landed him in a juvenile detention center that, at the very least, kept him away from the abuse at home.

He met Rhaast in juvie. A couple years older than him, Rhaast spotted Kayn’s vulnerability from a mile away. Offering him protection as well as some tips and tricks on how to survive, all Rhaast asked for in return was for Kayn to do his dirty work so he could get out on good behaviour. This didn’t help Kayn get out, but he had no desire to return to the house or the school that seemed to loathe his very existence.

When he did get out, Rhaast was quick to find him again, offering money and protection in return for odd jobs — delivering drugs, tagging, shoplifting, and roughing up people who got on his bad side — Kayn did it all. This was his only stable source of income and it kept him out of the house.

Zed is different. Where Rhaast feels like defensive walls put up between him and the world, Zed feels like safety. Like stability. Two things that Kayn’s never felt before. He follows Zed around like a puppy, eager to lap up any kindness he can get. There’s no word for what Zed is to him,, but he doesn’t have anyone asking about it anyways. If they did, the closest Kayn could come up with would be ‘home.’

Kayn moves out immediately upon turning eighteen. Whereas some might find liberation in being away from their abusers, Kayn only finds rage. His first real taste of blood comes with the cathartic murder of those who raised him with such violence. Zed helps him lie low, and Kayn is eternally grateful for it. The only issue is he finds he likes killing more than he initially expected ...

Under Zed’s tutelage, he begins to learn. How to cover his tracks, how to appear scrupulous. Zed keeps him fed, buys him nicer clothes, and helps him find respectable jobs to fill his days. Things are looking up for Kayn — he has money, independence, and a purpose like never before. But Rhaast doesn’t like that Kayn doesn’t need him as much as he used to. He sabotages any part-time jobs that Kayn manages to get, masquerading as a customer and provoking him to violence, or tagging the building in Kayn’s name.

The tension builds until a heated argument in an alley turns vicious — Rhaast slashes at Kayn and flees the scene, leaving Kayn clutching his bloodied face, barely able to find his way to the only safe place he knows: Zed’s. Over his slow recovery, he realizes that he’ll never be truly free while Rhaast breathes, so he exacts his revenge, quick and brutal, slitting Rhaast’s throat in an alley and leaving him for dead.

From there, Kayn does his best to make himself useful to Zed and repay the immeasurable debt he owes. With freedom from abuse comes a taste for true crime novels and a knack for learning through YouTube how-to videos. He never quite loses his thirst for violence, and is always ready to dirty his hands in Zed’s name.

Kayn has plenty of tattoos, mostly imagery of weapons and snakes, and he has his tongue, eyebrow, and nostril pierced, as well as snakebites and several ear piercings. Over time, he gets more.

His hair is self-cut in an unkempt undercut like his odyssey skin, naturally black but sometimes dyed blue. He doesn’t take care of it at all.

Rhaast’s attack blinded him in his right eye and left a nasty scar down the side of his face, from eyebrow to jaw. Naturally, that’s the eyebrow that Kayn pierced.

Kayn smokes plenty, but he doesn’t indulge in alcohol or drugs as they only seem to intensify his violent urges and make his paranoia spike.

He has a pure white pomeranian named Killer who he’s convinced is going to grow into a big dog one day. Killer refuses to wear a leash, but will happily trot after Kayn all day.

Though he’s worked many jobs, his most successful ones were working at a dog shelter and a flower shop/

He lives in a shitty apartment and doesn’t own a vehicle at all until Zed buys him a cheap black getaway car. He cherishes everything Zed gives him and thus rarely uses it.

He hates air travel and Zed hates taking him on flights, but it’s necessary. At least they travel first class.

#v. / I have no heart. that — you should fear. ( modern )#long post #any of the zed hcs can be reworked to fit with other zeds ofc #this is just what I work with at a baseline for interactions because kayn is incapable of existing without zed

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musutofu · 5 years

Text

【 Dating Muscular 】

Muscular sees himself as the height of the human form, superior to any average person by every definition of the word. He was born as an apex predator, gifted a body that is nothing short of a weapon of mass destruction and a mind that isn’t afraid to use it. There isn’t anything that can stop him from quenching his boundless thirst for blood. Anything or anyone that tries will learn the true extent of his strength and be crushed in the process. He doesn’t have the time or the patience to be dictated to by governing laws and the society built around it. If Muscular wants to do something what in this world is going to stand in his way?

It turns out that something is you. Small and fragile, at least compared to his mountainous physique, Muscular had every intention of killing you where you stood upon your first meeting. It wasn’t you in particular that he wanted to kill, but by virtue of your proximity he decided he might as well kill two birds with one stone. Or, at least, that was his plan until you made a promise to his original target. Knowing most people can’t keep their promises he decided to let you leave with your life, but still killed the person you’d made a promise to. He meant to simply kill you after you refused to fulfill your promise now that they were dead but came up short when you went above and beyond to do just as you said you would even after hearing the news of their death.

Having never been in such a situation before–that’s what he gets for playing with his prey–Muscular is uncertain of how to move forward. He kept tabs on you all that time just to kill you in the end, but now he has no real reason to and doesn’t have his usual urge to blindly kill you because he can. It’s still a niggling thought at the back of his head but it’s different from the blinding bloodlust he usually feels. It’s not so much a kill or die feeling so much as it’s an I could but I won’t type of feeling. It’s a foreign feeling and entirely confusing which makes it harder for Muscular to keep his composure while stalking you. It’s honestly a miracle that you haven’t noticed him yet.

But by the time you do it’s much too late for you to try to get away from him. You had all the time in the world to run away and change your name or whatever it is victims do when they manage to get away–he wouldn’t know–but instead you made the decision to keep to your normal routine. Admittedly it’s partially his fault for keeping to the shadows and not making his presence known. You’d probably be long gone if you felt unsafe due to his near constant but unseen presence. Usually he’d loathe someone with such a nonexistent self preservation instinct but in this one instance he’s grateful for the lack of difficulty your obliviousness gives him. And it’s never much of a fight even if they do decide to fight back.

There was enough foresight on his part after watching you for so long to prepare a place for you to stay if he ever decided to take you. It’s not a particularly glamorous residence but it has the basic necessities and is located somewhere no one would question him for your screams or resemblance to the missing person posters. You’re well fed and have a place to sleep and that’s what matters. Not because Muscular is a caring kidnapper but because if anything is going to kill you it’s going to be him. Not starvation or infection from a poor living environment. Him. And he makes certain that you know that in case you start denying your food or wallowing in your own filth as a form of protest.

Fighting against him is useless. Muscular was quick to inform you of your inferiority, making sure that you knew he had been planning to kill you and the only thing keeping you alive was him. If you fight him you’re surely lose and Muscular doesn’t deal out defeats unless it’s a fatality. If you still decide to fight him he’ll prove that he isn’t just saying things to scare you into submission. He’s not afraid to hurt you. In fact, it brings him pleasure. So unless you’re hoping that death will free you from his captivity then it would be better for you to just do as he says and avoid punishment.

The attraction between the two of you is purely circumstantial. One might call it Stockholm Syndrome but Muscular prefers to think of it as logical. You’re both together in the same place whenever he isn’t out terrorizing the citizens of Japan. It’s only natural that the two of you have learned to tolerate each other’s existence. Once you’ve proven that you aren’t faking your resignation to a life with him Muscular will calm down if only a little. He won’t be as overbearing as when he initially stole you away but it will take a while for him to completely relax. He’s already made the mistake of being overconfident in his ability to intimidate you into submission so he isn’t likely to completely drop his guard until he’s absolutely certain you’ve made peace with your new life.

If you ever get to a point where you start taking liberties and being more uppity than Muscular can tolerate he won’t hesitate to hurt you. It won’t be a punishment based on the severity of your crime either. If Muscular wants to hurt you he’s going to hurt you. You’re body is fragile to someone of his strength and if you want to gamble with your breakable body then he’ll happily indulge you. And when he decides he’s done he’ll leave you to clean up whatever mess you caused him to make. Unless you’re on the verge of death and maybe even then depending on how angry you’ve made him, Muscular will put you in charge of figuring out how to heal whatever bodily harm he’s done to you. If that means you’ll end up permanently mutilated because you don’t know how to make neat sutures or set bones then so be it. It’ll be a reminder not to test his patience.

Knowing that he is stronger than you is something Muscular prides himself on. He’s stronger than most people but he knows that you know that he’s definitely stronger than you. Sometimes he touches you just to prove a point. He’ll squeeze your arm until he leaves bruises hit you hard enough to break your skin. It’s an odd sort of pleasure for him to have physical proof of his dominance over you. Because while he’s grown used to keeping his brutal tendencies at bay when it comes to you there’s only so long he can go before his need to hurt people becomes too much to deny. Unless he’s legitimately angry with you he’ll likely stop once he gets the results he wants.

If Muscular ever returns home in an inconsolable mood the quickest way to get him to calm down is to hurt yourself. Not enough to do any lasting harm, but enough to make yourself bleed. It’ll sate him for the time being. He has an odd obsession with your blood. It’s not the same as the bloodlust he feels when he sees other people. It’s less all consuming. He doesn’t want to splatter you all over the walls–not so much that he can’t ignore the desire–but he does want to see your blood. The scent of it is like a sedative to him. As long as you aren’t slashing your guts open in some spectacularly lethal fashion Muscular can be soothed by a few drops of your blood.

No matter how much time passes his desire to kill you will never fully disappear. It’s gotten smaller and smaller since he’s learned to tolerate you as a fellow person rather than a bug to be crushed under his boot but never truly went away. If you ask Muscular won’t deny that he’d enjoy killing you if he got the chance to. Although he no longer sees proximity as reason enough to kill you if something were to happen he would revel in the opportunity to finally murder you like he originally planned to. If, say, the police finally gained some competence and found where he was hiding you; he’d kill you. If you contracted some illness that was slowly killing you he might consider letting you go to the hospital even though he knows you probably wouldn’t feel obligated to return. His more logical reaction would be to kill you before your sickness got the chance.

Muscular has no intentions of ever telling you that he loves you. It would be a lie if he did. There’s no love between you at least not from his perspective. It was mere curious out and intrigue that brought the two of you together. Love had nothing to do with it. And if you say it to him whether it’s out of self preservation because you think it’s what he wants from you or because you truly think you’re in love with him, Muscular will tell you that you’re wrong. He doesn’t want your love. If anything he wants your life.

#muscular x reader #muscular headcanons #muscular #mha muscular #behavior muscular #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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hungline · 5 years

Text

on crowns they hung the dragon-fire

pairing: wonhuigyuhao genre: angst, fluff, dragon!hao au, fantasy au, rated m warnings: mild gore, minor violence, implied sexual content near the end words: 10340

summary: Minghao was born from fire and to the fire, he shall return. He has always known this to be true.

But when a prince, a warlock, and a knight enter his castle, Minghao finds that fire isn’t the only thing that will keep him warm.

Humans are stupid. One of the stupidest species Minghao has ever come across actually.

They have to be if they think slaying him is a good idea.

Which he can admit that he doesn't really understand in the long run, but he's been doing this long enough to know.

Still, humans truly are the dumbest species he's ever seen.

That's what he thought. What he always knew. At least until he met Junhui, Wonwoo, and Mingyu.

Most days for Minghao start out like this: He'll wake up, lick his scales clean as he stretches out, then he'll hunt for some mice for his breakfast, because contrary to what humans believe, only the most desperate of dragons actually eat humans.

Minghao prefers mice and his castle has an ample amount of them to last him for a very long while. He also enjoys the occasional bird and their eggs, but the number of birds in or around the castle is disappointedly low. Still, Minghao gets by well.

After he's had his breakfast, Minghao breathes into the largest fireplace near the entrance hallway and curls up before the warmth. He tucks in his tail and settles in for a long nap.

It is usually at this point in the day when a knight comes knocking on the castle door to slay Minghao and save the princess that Minghao is sure isn't living in his castle. Sometimes, they won't even knock and just stick their shiny needles into Minghao's leg in some delirious hope of harming him.

Rude doesn't begin to cover it.

There are different ways that Minghao likes to care of trespassers. None are pleasant, but at least none of these knights become his mealーthat would spoil Minghao's appetite and he's been trying hard not to do that.

Minghao personally enjoys burning them into a crisp. He loves watching the knight's armor meld into his skin, searing the first few skin layers until the metal begins to melt into a foul-smelling, bubbling mass and the knight with it. Afterward, Minghao will scrape the puddle off his castle's floor while it's still hot and fling it out of one of the many windows with his tail. Minghao curls up in front of the fireplace again and naps until lunch once his morning business is done.

For lunch, Minghao treats himself to more mice and the dragon fruit from the tree in his smallest courtyard. The juice from the fruit soothes his thirst and flames the embers in his lungs, keeping his inner fire alight. Most things aren't able to give him nutrition and make his flame brighter, the flame that keeps him alive, what he is at the core of his very being, so he's glad for the tree. It is one of his few joys in life and he pities the fool who'd ever try to chop it down.

This is, of course, another opportunity for the stupid humans to bother Minghao again. Obviously, Minghao doesn't generally receive two visits in one day, but his record so far is five and Minghao likes being prepared for the worst. And he still clearly remembers when one of those stupid humans sliced off a branch from his tree and Minghao blacked out for a few moments. He came back to a charred wall, blood splattered on his tree and the human's head in his claw. Minghao put that head on a spike and smugly set it up beside the front entranceway: a warning to all those who thought of bothering him and a promise to all those who dared enter.

Once the afternoon begins to drag on, Minghao stretches out and flaps his wings to rise into the air and roar as loud as he can. If the humans want to keep bothering Minghao, then he'll be sure to let them know that he won't just roll over and let them have their way.

Minghao was here first and he'll remain here long after the humans have gone. His kind kindled the fires that kept this world bright in the early ages and his kind will be the ones to destroy this world when it's all said and done. Humans can tear down their monuments, fight amongst themselves and kill and kill and kill, but in the end, they are nothing when compared to the dragons.

Humans are nothing.

Minghao lets the cold air glide across his wings and scales then checks if the red found in the base of his tail has expanded any further. It always does and Minghao would be worried about the fact that the beautiful green of his scales had faded away enough that his hide is pitch-black, but he likes acting like he doesn't know what's going on. When Minghao was newly born, his scales were greener than the forests that surround the castle, but over time as more humans began attacking him, hate bled the color away.

Hate is what's making the red found in the base of his tail grow with each passing day as well. Once Minghao's scales have taken on the same color as the blood that he spills too often, he will no longer be himself. His sense of awareness and his consciousness will dim as his inner flame consumes him. He'll be a living, walking pillar of fire and nothing will be able to stop the process. He'll rely on a millennium of evolutionary instincts and no longer be able to recognize himself.

Hate consumes all and Minghao wishes that there was some way to slow down or reverse the process.

For now, however, he is content to circle above his castle and enjoy the air. Content to enjoy the way that he can't smell the stench of his rotting mind with only fresh air around him. In the castle, he is surrounded by his scent, knows it well enough that when he first caught a whiff of the odor of hate clinging to him, he was shocked that his life had come to this. He doesn't know what to expect or what to do, but whenever he catches a whiff of himself, his own self-hatred only expands. Up in the clouds where there's only the rush of his wings and the strong wind currents, he can forget about all that. He can focus on this and enjoy it, can let the little feelings of happiness become logs that he adds to his inner flame, to the core of his being. He lets himself forget for the time being.

As he lands, Minghao usually has a few eagles and other large birds in his claws. They are his supper and after he's had his fill, he retreats back behind the castle walls and sleeps. Two times out of ten Minghao will wake in the middle of the night to yet another human sticking their pitiful needle into him.

It ends as well as it always does and even half-asleep, Minghao is still stronger, quicker, bigger, and smarter than these stupid knights.

This is how most of Minghao's days play out. He's annoyed by the humans and their constant presence in his castle and he loathes the hate he harbors for their kind and how it chips away at his very being. However, Minghao can admit that his days would be boring without them. The longest he's gone without having to fight a knight is two full moons and when one finally appeared, Minghao was excited to be of use againーto have a purpose.

As bizarre as it is, Minghao is the teeniest bit grateful to those annoying pests for keeping him fit and busy.

Minghao doesn't remember how he ended up in this specific castle or who his first kill was, but he does know that he came from fire. He knows, logically, he must have had biological parents, but he has no memory of them or their existence and he'd long ago given up on the hope of someone coming back for him, to claim him and give him a home. He was born from fire like the dragons before him and the fire will always welcome him into its midst, no matter the amount of blood he has shed nor however much he feels undeserving of its warmthーhe will always be welcomed. The hearth is his home and the flames are his one and only mother, keeping him safe and warm on those cold nights when the entire castle is beginning to frost over. Minghao remains warm.

And despite the repetition of his everyday routine, the constant sparring with knights and their demands for him to release some imaginary princess, Minghao's found that he actually likes his life.

For him, there is no other way of livingーof existing. He wakes, he kills, he eats and he flies, then sleeps only to do the same thing again the next day. His life is familiar and anything else surely wouldn't be able to accommodate him. He likes this life because he's never thought of having something different.

He's never had a reason to anyway. Not at least until a prince, a warlock, and a knight asked for a place at his hearth.

The day starts as any other.

Minghao has just finished breakfast and already has the fireplace crackling with fiery warmth when he smells the familiar musk of a human.

He huffs out a gruff sigh that leaves many candelabrum lit and stretches out his limbs as he uncurls from his spot before the fireplace. He'll just have to nap after he's done with the dumb knight approaching.

Except, as Minghao catches another whiff of the smell, he pauses.

The knight isn't alone.

There is the usual musk-and-sweat smell of a knight (although this one has a sourness to it that Minghao can't place), but there are two other scents accompanying it too. A sweet and calming waft that makes Minghao's stomach rumble with hunger which catches him so completely off guard that his throat burns with the desire to eat. Human meat has never appealed to Minghao before until now and he isn't sure that he likes this new development, but the next smell his nose registers makes Minghao stop in the middle of the entrance hallway as he tries to wrap his head around it.

It's spice and ash, the undeniable scent of another dragon.

Butーno. There's the dull scent of human blood mixed with it too.

The entrance hallway's doors burst open and Minghao stares down at the three tiny men standing before him.

No other dragon. Just three men.

Minghao watches them, nose twitching as spice and ash fill his nostrils. It's a dragon, it has to be. There is no faking that scent, but there are only three men here.

A knight, a snack, andーoh!

A halfling. Half-man and half-dragon. That has got to be it.

The humans say something to each other as they stare at him, their low voices barely audible and Minghao knows what they're saying, he just doesn't care. His attention is focused on figuring out which one of them is the halfling in question.

But before he can really start in on anything, the sweet and calming scent intensifies until it's eroding at Minghao's nostrils. The man on the very right with hair a dark black steps forward holding a staff up and begins chanting as the scent becomes even stronger. Minghao feels a pull low in his gut as something hotter than any flame begins crawling over his scales.

It's painful in a way that Minghao has never been accustomed to when it comes to touching fire. It's eating away his scales and leaving him naked to the cold, frigid air of his castle. His inner flame is dimming, growing calm and Minghao feels like something vital about him has been ripped away when he can no longer feel his inner flame at the back of his throat. He has no idea about what's going on, but the delicious-smelling human only holds his staff up higher and chants even louder as Minghao burns away. He has a fleeting thought over the irony of succumbing to the same fate he dooms all the knights that trespass into his castle, but it all cools down after that, his thoughts steadily slipping away.

He doesn't know what's going on, but Minghao's pretty sure he isn't going to like the outcome of thisーwhatever this is.

"Change me back."

The three men begin muttering amongst themselves again as his high and reedy voice fades out with a slight echo in the freezing entrance hallway.

Minghao really hopes that he won't grow used to this strange sensation because he preferred it better when he was huge, pitch-black, and could only roar. This tiny fragile body Minghao inhabits now will never do.

"Not until you tell us where the princess is," the knight says after taking off his helmet to reveal a man with a weak chin, hair as black as the delicious-smelling human, expressive eyes, and a curl to his mouth that Minghao finds very threatening.

He feels his teeth snap together in anger and tries for a growl, tries to appear brave. What comes out of his mouth is a squeak that sounds too familiar to that of the mice in his castle that Minghao feels a morbid rush of shame wash over him. The three men in front of him only stare at Minghao in varying levels of curiosity, but none of them are afraid of Minghao like he wants them to be. The knight steps forward, sheathing his sword and Minghao steps up as well before he crouches into his usual stance of attack.

Minghao's pretty sure he might have actually looked like he posed a threat if he wasn't completely and one hundred percent naked though.

The halfling steps in between them before Minghao can embarrass himself even further, his brown hair glistening in the sunlight while he pushing the knight back with a hand on his chest. He turns to smile at Minghao with an emotion that he doesn't recognize and Minghao hesitates. He stares awkwardly between the humans as they exchange glances.

Minghao still doesn't know how he turned into this weak and scrawny human, but he's pretty sure that the delicious-smelling one is to blame for this. The halfling takes another step forward, his scent muted but Minghao could never forget the fiery mix of spice and ashーnot even in this new form.

"I'm Prince Junhui. What is your name?" The halfling asks, leaving Minghao to do a double take because he had never in his life expected for a human's voice to sound so pleasant to him.

Minghao clicks his tongue, still not used to using this rough language lying heavy on his tongue. The other two men step up close behind the halfliーJunhui, behind Junhui, Minghao reminds himself. They step up behind Junhui and flank him, taking the defensiveーas if Minghao is honestly stupid enough to attack three armed men when he isn't even taller than any of them anymore. As if Minghao is actually that stupid. Really.

Junhui keeps looking at him though and Minghao forces himself to take a deep breath, stepping back and trying to appear as harmless as possible. He doesn't know what makes him do it, but if Junhui is a halfling, the least Minghao can do is find out more about him. So he sucks in a large breath, missing the way fire used to rest at the back of his throat and looks Junhui in the eye.

"Minghao." The name is still the same in this jarring tongue of the humans, and for that, Minghao feels a little piece of comfort wrap itself around his new body. "My name is Minghao."

Junhui smiles, the good nature behind it blinding Minghao. He unknowingly takes a step forward but flinches back when the knight draws his sword in the blink of an eye, pointing it towards Minghao. Minghao shiversーfrom the cold, nothing else. He isn't terrified of the sword point in his face. Not at all!

At least now Minghao understands why all knights carry them.

Now that Minghao isn't trailing wings behind him twenty-four-seven, he can clearly see the way light shifts across the already gleaming blade of the sword. The "needle" isn't so much a needle anymore.

Still, Minghao does his best to appear fearless when he's feeling anything but because he knows how expressive human's faces can be. The knight regards him, only stepping back again as Junhui puts a hand on his chest, murmuring something that Minghao's new, weaker ears barely manage to catch.

"Mingyu, it's fine. Put that away and let me handle this."

Mingyu frowns but does as Junhui tells him to (although it doesn't go pass Minghao that Mingyu keeps his sword out). Junhui frowns at him, pouting at the unsheathed sword, but steps forward confidently, not minding the fact that his two companions are still sticking close to his, flanking him. Minghao watches them, unsure of whether he should step forward to meet Junhui halfway or step back and scout out an escape.

"It's nice to meet you, Minghao," Junhui says with a bow that confuses Minghao. "Can you tell me something, please?"

Minghao watches him warily as he stands upright again. His companions step in even closer until the delicious-smelling one has a hand on the small of Junhui's back. He's muttering something under his breath that Minghao can't understand or make any sense of. There's a tingling in his throat that makes Minghao ache for his fire to return and even though Minghao shouldn't really be able to notice, he can make out the sweet and delicious smell intensifying again in the air around him, but it's different now somehow.

With the tingling in his throat and the rumbling in his stomach, Minghao nods his head and feels his heartbeat begin to change in his chest when Junhui smiles at him.

"Where is the princess, Minghao?" Junhui asks.

Minghao barely has to think about his answer, the tingling in his throat growing strong enough to make him uncomfortable. "Alone."

"Huh?"

"Alone... I'm alone," Minghao manages to say, the language jarring and blocky on his tongue.

Junhui nods and smiles, pressing a hand to Mingyu's chest to keep him back when he inches forward again. He takes another step closer until Minghao feels like he might be suffocated by his proximity alone, but does his best to pretend like he isn't bothered.

"Are you the prince?"

Minghao's answer is instant like before, leaving him no room to question why. "No."

Junhui smiles at him again. "You could've fooled me."

Minghao doesn't get why his face begins to feel warm or why the delicious-smelling one just snickered under his breath. He doesn't get the chance to really expand on the reasons behind all this though because Mingyu steps forward again, completely ignoring Junhui as he holds his sword out. He levels the point at Minghao's face again and glares at him, his mouth screwed up into a strange sort of pout.

"You're lying! Where is the princess that the villagers nearby speak of?" Mingyu spits out, eyes boring into Minghao's own.

The other human steps up beside Mingyu and pushes his arm aside, effectively knocking the sword away from Minghao's face. Mingyu starts to say something, but the delicious-smelling human who Minghao still does not have a name for speaks.

"I cast an honesty spell on him. He's telling the truth," the deep voice cuts off Mingyu's protests while also surprising Minghao as well.

"Oh yeah? How would you know that he doesn't have some secret dragon power that makes him immune to magic?" Mingyu shoots back, face pinched together in a sour expression. "Just because you're the best warlock in the kingdom, Wonwoo, doesn't mean that magic will work each and every time! You know this better than anyone."

The delicious-smelling oneーWonwoo Minghao makes a note ofーreadies himself to fire back and is then cut off by Junhui calmly stepping in between them.

"I think he's telling the truth," Junhui says quietly, his voice soft but leaving no room to argue.

"Prince Junhuiー" Mingyu begins to say.

"Answer me this, my dear knight," Junhui interrupts, his voice still soft. "Would you or would you not trust Wonwoo with your life?"

"Of course I would! What kind of question is that?" Mingyu sputters, face turning an interesting shade of red.

"Then I shall kindly tell you to sheath your sword and shut up. Wonwoo's the only reason this dragon isn't burning you to bits right now," Junhui replies, calmly, his voice so at odds with his words that Minghao can't help but feel a spark of pity for the poor, outranked knight.

Junhui then turns to face him again, smiling until his eyes travel down and he seems to realize that Minghao isn't wearing a stitch of clothing. "Oh. Clothes. Minghao needs clothes. Wonwoo, he looks about your size. Can you...?"

Minghao watches as Wonwoo immediately kneels down and sets his staff down on the floor before slinging a pack that Minghao didn't notice until now off his back. He rummages through it before pulling out a few pieces of cloth that he immediately hands to Junhui's waiting, outstretched hands. Junhui takes them and smiles kindly at Wonwoo before facing Minghao again and holding the pieces of cloth out to Minghao. Minghao takes them and holds them to his chest, having no idea what he's supposed to do now.

"Right," Junhui says as he claps his hands together once. "Let's get you into those clothes and then we'll talk about why the villagers seem to think a princess is being held captive here."

From the tone of his voice, Minghao can tell that Junhui won't accept any arguments and so he leads the way towards the fireplace he was previously curled in front of and hopes that what comes next won't hurt.

Junhui and Wonwoo help him into the clothes quickly, explaining which limbs go into which holes for certain articles of clothing and Minghao really wishes he wasn't in this new form.

He really wishes Mingyu would stop holding his sword up and lean into a defensive stance whenever Wonwoo or Junhui linger for a moment too long when they pull the shirt and breeches onto Minghao too. The clothes are itchy and Minghao thinks they might be a little too big on him, but when Junhui steps back to study him then smiles and proclaims him perfect, Minghao can feel his heartbeat accelerating again. Wonwoo stays by his side for a moment longer as he fixes the back of Minghao's shirt, but then he, too, steps back and Minghao is left standing with the fireplace to his back.

The flames are warm behind him and how Minghao wishes he could just curl up in them and sleep. But he's a human now and humans are very flammable, meaning that he'll burn if he were to come too close to the fire. So he sits down where he is and pulls his legs into his chest until he's able to rest his head on his knees.

The others remain standing and Minghao figures that they're giving him a moment to settle in before they start questioning him. Minghao studies his hands as he waits, watching the way tendons and muscles move with his fingers. He presses his palms together and marvels over the soft padding that his claws never had and then he looks down to study his new feet. His toes are like his fingers except much shorter and rounder. He wiggles them, smiling at them slightly when he finds them amusing.

Junhui clears his throat and Minghao looks up to meet his gaze, the smile falling off his face when he sees the serious expression on Junhui's own.

"Whatー" Minghao stops, clears his throat and tries again, doing his best to look small so that Mingyu will finally take pity on him and sheath his sword. "What would you like to know?"

"Are you absolutely sure there isn't a princess here?" Junhui asks, jumping right into it to get what he wants like Minghao expected him to.

"Yes, I'm sure," Minghao replies without a second thought, the tingling in his throat making another appearance. "No one else is here but me... and you three now."

Mingyu scoffs behind Junhui and Minghao looks over in his direction to find that the knight has taken a seat as well, legs crossed one over the other with his sword resting across his knees. Wonwoo pokes one of Mingyu's legs with his staff and shushes him, waving a hand in front of him to tell Junhui to continue.

"How long have you been here?" Junhui asks next.

Minghao takes a moment to think about that because even he isn't too sure. He doesn't remember if he once had parents, but the earliest memory Minghao can recall is one where the dragon fruit tree is bigger than him. His scales were still a glimmering jade green and his tail was speckled with white spots. The flame inside of him was small but strong and the taste of the fruit was something entirely brand new. The tree's branches had shadowed over him and offered him protection as he feasted on the few pieces of fallen, heavy fruit that the tree could no longer hold up anymore. He had eaten until he was full and curled himself around the trunk while he slept. Because there, he was comfortable and there where the tree's branches gave him shade from the hot summer sun, he was safe.

He doesn't know exactly how long ago that moment, in particular, may have been, but he is bigger than the tree now, big enough that their roles have changed. Minghao thinks that if he were to stand beside the tree now though, he wouldn't even be able to reach its lowest branch.

"I don't know," Minghao finally answers, biting his bottom lip when he thinks Junhui will lash him out at him for not giving him a clear answer.

But the prince only smiles and Minghao lets his lip go, focusing instead on Junhui's mouth. "Have you been here for a long time?"

Minghao nods because he doesn't have an exact timeframe, but he must have been living this life for long enough already if his scales had changed from green to black. "A long time."

"By yourself?"

Minghao nods again.

Before anything more can be said, however, there's a shift around him that sends a shiver down Minghao's spine. Minghao inches away from the others and sniffs at the air, amazed that he's still able to pick up scents even with his new weaker senses. There's another knight approaching, on horseback, and Minghao is going to die.

He isn't large enough to defend himself anymore. His limbs are too skinny and too frail to even hold off an attack from Wonwoo, the weakest looking one out of this trio in front of him. He's tinier than every knight that's come knocking on his castle's door and he knows that he's going to die if he isn't changed back in the next few seconds.

"Change me back," he demands again. "Please change me back."

It takes a moment for him to realize the reason it looks like everything is shaking is because he is the one who's trembling in fear like all the knights he's killed. He has become the prey now and he's going to die, he's sure of it.

Junhui tilts his head to the side and studies Minghao with eyes that are kind, but words that are anything but. "We haven't gotten the information we need yet. We can't change you back until we know why the villagers say there is a princess living here even though you say there isn't."

Minghao's shaking only gets worse. His heartbeat is becoming louder by the second and Minghao hates the fact that he's preparing to run. He's a human now, weaker and smaller and more prone to breaking. He misses the heat of his flames in the base of his throat and he aches to fly again, but Junhui isn't going to let him change back anytime soon.

"Please," Minghao tries again. "I'm going to die if you don't change me back. I have to defend myself, please."

"Defend yourself from who?" Mingyu pipes up, pushing himself onto his knees before he stands and lifts up his sword once more. "Is someone coming to kill you?"

Minghao nods his head frantically, his vision going blurry as his eyes become wet. "A knight. A knight is coming to kill me. They always come. They always want to kill me. Please, change me back or I'm going to die. The knight will kill me to save the princess that doesn't exist and I'm going to die."

"Minghao, calm down," Wonwoo kneels beside him, snaking an arm around his shoulders and usually Minghao wouldn't allow this, Minghao wouldn't usually curl into Wonwoo's body for protection and stability, but Minghao isn't his usual self right now and so he allows himself this for the time being. "You're not going to die."

But Minghao shakes his head, not believing Wonwoo's false promises. "I am going to die. Humans hate me and I hate them because they always try to kill me. They come into my castle, they destroy my things, and they always try to kill me."

Minghao can't breathe. He can't breathe and his face is wet and there's white noise in his ears as he continues to ramble, but Wonwoo only sets his staff down and throws his other arm around Minghao, pulling him into his chest. "They do all this for a princess that isn't here, for a princess that doesn't exist. And they keep coming back because I can't tell them there is no princess here. They wouldn't believe me anyway. Who would trust a dragon that has spilled enough blood to fill entire oceans? No one is that stupid or that kind. Please, change me back. I beg of you to change me back now!"

"But you're not," Junhui murmurs, cutting through the thoughts spiraling in Minghao's head. "You're not a dragon. Not anymore."

And Minghao stops. He stops shaking, stops hiccuping and stops thinking because Junhui is right. He isn't a dragon.

Minghao is human now.

"Iー Youー" Minghao tries for words but is unable to come up with anything coherent enough.

Minghao buries his face into Wonwoo's chest when the musk of a knight alerts his senses right before a horse's neighs are heard from the entrance hallway. It's only now that Minghao remembers the three men before him hadn't shut the door behind them before they changed Minghao into a human and he cowers in the face of his death.

"I'll handle this," Mingyu speaks, sheathing his sword as he walks off and Minghao stares after him in shock.

Mingyu had seemed to be the one least likely to come to Minghao's aid from his first impression of him. However, the line of his shoulders is sturdy and strong and Minghao doesn't know what makes him think itーmaybe instinct, perhapsーbut he knows in his gut that Mingyu will handle this. He's more than capable of handling it really. The clank of armor is so loud that Minghao flinches at the sound and hides his face behind his hands.

Minghao can barely hear Mingyu's voice as he greets the knight and Minghao tenses in Wonwoo's arms, unsure of what to do or how to hold himself with danger nearby. Wonwoo runs a hand down Minghao's back and stares at the arch that leads from the room they are currently in, to the entrance hallway. A voice deeper than Wonwoo's can be heard echoing across the walls and Junhui steps closer to the two men huddled on the floor when Mingyu's voice raises in that way it always does when he's arguing with someone.

His breath rattles in his lungs and Minghao hates how afraid he is.

He was born from fire. It poured itself into him and lit up his core, making him feel invincible. But, he is only a man nowーweak, frail, and unable to nurture the flames of his very being. He is nothing but a man now and he's afraid.

Minghao doesn't want to die.

Wonwoo takes up his staff when the voices grow louder and Junhui kneels on Minghao's other side, quickly wrapping his arms around him when Wonwoo's fall away. Wonwoo stands and begins to chant again and the smell that Minghao thought as delicious when he was a dragon makes his stomach churn in an entirely different way now that he is a man.

He knows what mating is, he knows what it looks like, but he's never felt the urge to mate before. At least not before Wonwoo's delicious scent invaded his sense of smell and made him want, sending another shiver down Minghao's spine.

Junhui shifts beside him so Minghao knows that he isn't the only one affected by it as well. Something hard brushes across the side of Minghao's thigh, but he has no idea what it may be and so he forces himself to focus on what Wonwoo is doing and not what Wonwoo's scent is doing to him.

The knight is yelling now, his deep voice sounding more shrill with each passing moment, but then he cuts off suddenly and there's a loud sound that leaves Minghao's ears ringing. Armor and metal clatter against the ground and Mingyu returns soon after, a frown marring his face as he walks straight towards Wonwoo who is clinging to his staff for dear life. Mingyu sheaths his sword and wraps an arm around the warlock's waist, holding him and supporting his weight.

Minghao freezes in Junhui's arms when Wonwoo turns in Mingyu's embrace so that they are face to face and then slowlyーvery slowlyーlets their lips meet gently.

Junhui doesn't say anything when Minghao buries his face into his neck and inhales his scent deeply, letting the familiar spice and ash wrap around him in comfort.

Minghao doesn't know what Wonwoo did to the knight exactly and he does his best not to think so much about it either because he truly does not wish to know.

What he does know is that when the three men finally coax him back into the entrance hallway, the knight is unconscious on the floor. Minghao watches them lift the limp knight and push him back onto his horse, wrapping a rope around his chest and tying it off before they let the horse wander off with its sleeping rider on it's back. They all watch the horse cross the bridge and disappear into the surrounding forest on the other side and then retreat back to the fireplace.

Junhui sends Mingyu to fetch firewood to tend to the slowly dying flames and Minghao tenses before he politely asks Mingyu to get wood from the forest instead of his courtyards. Mingyu glares at him for a long moment before Junhui tells him to hurry up and then he trudges out past the still open door and walks across the bridge. Minghao watches him, turns back to see that Junhui and Wonwoo are busy getting comfortable, then runs towards his tree.

He was right about being smaller than it again in this new form. He can't reach any of the branches and so he settles for picking the ripe pieces of fruit off the ground instead. He takes an experimental bite out of one and smiles to himself, relieved to know that the fruit still tastes as delicious as it did when he was a dragon. He's protective of his tree and he would never let anybody but him take fruit from it, but these three men protected him. They went up against that knight for him and, granted, they are also at fault for why Minghao needed protection in the first place, but it isn't like they had expected for a knight to come by the castle on the same day they would. He can't blame them for the unexpected and so he sighs as he bends down on one knee.

He picks a few more pieces and carries them in his arms back to the fireplace where he knows Junhui and Wonwoo would have noticed his absence by now. He finds the two crouched down before the fire, looking at what Minghao assumes is the runes carved into the opening of the fireplace. Minghao sets the fruits down beside the other food Wonwoo had been busy with before Minghao left and scoots over until he's close enough to the fireplace to feel the warmth of the flames against his back once more.

Now that his wings are gone along with the fire that had always been nestled at the back of his throat, this is the next best thing.

Mingyu returns as well soon after and Wonwoo immediately rises to help him with the firewood in his arms while Junhui settles himself down beside Minghao. Without thinking much of it, Minghao turns so that most of his body is facing Junhui now and holds his hand out for Junhui's. Junhui smiles at him as he places his hand in Minghao's and smiles even wider when Minghao presses a piece of the dragon fruit into his palm before letting go. Junhui takes a bite out of the fruit and Minghao carefully watches his reaction, hoping that Junhui will like it.

He doesn't know why it matters so much, but it does and so he waits, smiling when Junhui hums appreciatively and quickly takes another, bigger, bite out of the dragon fruit. Wonwoo and Mingyu soon join them and accept the food that Junhui hands them. Minghao tries bread, cheese and other types of fruit that he hadn't even known of their existence until now. The knight and warlock laugh at him when he refuses the water they try to make him drink, but Minghao gets his revenge soon enough. He snickers as Wonwoo and Mingyu take a bite out of the fruit and immediately spit it out, matching expressions of disgust on their faces.

(Minghao doesn't miss the way Junhui looks at them either and Minghao is new to this human business, but he isn't blind. He's smart enough to know what attraction is and the way they had smelled when they first showed up, Minghao can tell that they're mates.)

He eats quietly after that and only takes a sip of water when Junhui reassures him yet again that the water won't kill him.

The water is lukewarm and soothes his dry throat and before Minghao knows it, he's gone and drunken a few mouthfuls of it. Junhui takes it away from him soon after that and Minghao eats more fruit, taking another piece of cheese when Wonwoo offers him the rest of his. Something that Mingyu frowns at as well, but Minghao is too busy enjoying the new tastes and textures on his tongue to really care anymore.

They eat in relative silence and Minghao listens to the crackle of the fireplace behind him, crooning and calling for him to come back. To come home.

The sun has fallen behind the skyline when Junhui establishes he'll be taking the first watch and Minghao becomes confused about what exactly he'll be watching.

Wonwoo agrees immediately and starts to pull out sheets that he lies down on, curling into himself right then and there, quickly falling into deep slumber before the fireplace. Mingyu argues for a little bit about how he should be taking the first watch since he's the knight and all, but Junhui shuts him up with a look and Minghao watches as Mingyu curls himself around Wonwoo's back and holds him in his sleep, grumbling under his breath until Wonwoo turns so he can bury his face into the other man's neck.

It's only him and Junhui left awake by the time the air grows cold enough in the castle for their breaths to be visible. Junhui pulls out another, thicker sheet of cloth from the knapsack he'd been carrying and lays it over his mates, tucking it in around them so they are completely cocooned in their own warmth.

Minghao barely feels the cold though and he crawls on his knees over to where Junhui sits beside the sleeping men. Junhui smiles at him and pats his thigh, giving Minghao all the incentive he needs to lay down and use him as a resting place when he lies his head down on Junhui's thigh. They say nothing as Junhui watches his mates and Minghao stares into the fireplace directly behind them, letting the dull heat wrap itself around them slowly.

Crickets chirp out in the forest and Minghao can see the moon hanging in the sky from the highest window above them. Stars twinkle beside the moon, sharing its space and sharing its light, and Minghao aches to fly up to them, to fly away and never look back.

Junhui's hand tentatively rests on his head soon after and Minghao blinks in surprise. He lets Junhui continue though, too tired and worn out to deny himself this. Junhui's fingers run through his hair slowly, pushing Minghao away from the anxious feeling fluttering around in his chest.

"What are you thinking about?" Junhui asks, his voice so quiet that Minghao has to strain to hear the gentle tones.

Minghao doesn't know if Wonwoo's honesty spell is still affecting him or not, but there's no tingling in his throat when he asks, "Will Wonwoo be okay?"

Junhui's hand stills in his hair for a short moment before Minghao feels his fingers lace through his hair again. "Wonwoo? Yeah, he'll be fine. He's just not used to performing spells on such a grand scale because youーwell, don't mind me saying this, but you were huge. He looked fine after he'd done it, so I didn't focus on tending to him, but then he had to do the honesty spell on you and that other spell to knock out the knight. It's only a little bit of magic, but so soon after performing such a big spell, and back-to-back as well, really wore him down. He ate a lot at lunch and supper, now he just needs to rest and he'll be fine. He should be able to change you back after breakfast, so don't worry, Minghao."

Minghao's surprised that the topic of Wonwoo being able to change him back wasn't his first or primary concern when he asked the question. He asked because he truly cared about the warlock's state of being and health. That was all.

Minghao stares at the crescent moon, wondering if he should ask the next question that's on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down and settles for something easier. "They're your mates."

He doesn't phrase it as a question, but Junhui answers him as if it were one anyway. "Ah, I wouldn't call them my mates, humans don't really use that term, but yes? I call them my lovers as they call me their prince."

Minghao looks away from the moon to study Junhui instead because he doesn't understand why he sounds so uncertain. Junhui's skin resembles a golden amber in the firelight, the reds and oranges bringing out the lighter tones in his skin, and his honey brown eyes sparkle with flames. The scent of ash and spice rises to greet Minghao like an old friend and he shouldn't be so comfortable with this halfling so soon, but Minghao has no memory of ever being held or touched in a way that wasn't violent. These soft and gentle caresses of Junhui's are more than welcomed by Minghao.

"They smell of you," Minghao tells him, wanting to assure him, wanting to make the prince smile again. "They are your mates."

Junhui looks down to meet his gaze, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. "They smell of me? You can smell their scents even in this form?"

Minghao doesn't falter, merely keeps the halfling's gaze and asks. "Don't you?"

"Why would I be able to smell Wonwoo and Mingyu like you can?"

"No one's told you," Minghao observes.

Junhui frowns and pokes Minghao's nose. "Told me what exactly?"

"Hm. It's probably why you weren't forced to be locked away in a castle with a dragon actually. I don't think your parents would have taken kindly to a dragon trying to mate you," Minghao says simply, brow furrowed together in thought. "I'm surprised that you don't know. Or, I guess I should say, I'm surprised that no one has told you yet."

"Told me what?" Junhui demands, poking Minghao's cheeks this time. "Minghao. What haven't I been informed about?"

Minghao huffs, a little annoyed with Junhui's too-casual touches. "You tell me something first and then I'll tell you what you don't know."

"Fine, but you better keep your word," Junhui immediately agrees, tangling his fingers in Minghao's hair again to prompt the dragon to speak.

Minghao finds himself smiling at the prince's antics and asks something else that he has been thinking about. "Why did you come looking for a princess when you already have two mates?"

Junhui stills above him, hands freezing in his hair, but Minghao doesn't let him look away. He wants to be able to see the emotions flickering in Junhui's eyes so that when he finally answers, Minghao will hopefully be able to understand him better. The prince sighs and closes his eyes when Minghao still hasn't looked away. Junhui's hands fall away from Minghao's hair to grip at his legs instead and Minghao watches as Junhui tries to think of what to say, eyes flickering behind his closed lids.

"My step-mother wishes for me to wed. She nor anybody in the kingdom knows that my heart belongs to them, and being with more than one person isn't very... accepted. But I love these two men, and they love me. I could never choose between the two of them, so I accepted my step-mother's terms on the grounds that she would allow me to bring them along with me so that I could explain to the princess that I would marry her, but I could never love her like I love them," Junhui explains, his eyes still closed while Minghao studies him carefully.

Minghao raises his hand and cups Junhui cheek, relying on instinct because he doesn't know what he should do and so he does what he wants to do instead. And right now, he wants to touch Junhui's beautiful, vulnerable face and comfort him. "It's normal for dragons to take on more than one mate. We are creatures born from fire and thinking that only one other creature such as ourselves may be able to tame us is ridiculous. We were born from fire and no one man is able to control the flames of life after all."

"It's normal for dragons?" Junhui's eyes are open now, the fireplace's flames dancing in their depths, following a tune that Minghao might be able to hear if he strained his ears enough.

"It's always been our way. Since the beginning. We are older and larger, our hearts are big enough to love more than one," Minghao replies, voice nothing but a hoarse whisper now as Junhui stares at him.

Minghao pauses, breath hitching in his throat when Junhui leans his face into Minghao's palm, closing his eyes again. He takes a moment for himself to etch this into his memory, the look on Junhui's face as he lets Minghao comfort him, the relief evident in the line of his shoulders. He was worried about nothing really. Minghao is new to this whole human business and he doesn't know for how much longer he'll have to endure it, but even after they leave him, he'll keep this memory and cherish it until his dying breath.

"Junhui," Minghao says, his tongue feeling oddly heavy in his mouth. "What were you going to do after marrying the princess?"

Junhui doesn't open his eyes, just shrugs his shoulders and wraps his hand around Minghao's wrist to keep his hand where it is now. "Pretend for those at court that we are happy in our marriage, but continue to see Wonwoo and Mingyu whenever I could. Maybe even attend their wedding when it came time for it. But, after I become king, I intend to change the laws of marriage so that I can wed them as well."

Minghao shifts in his lap and takes in a deep breath. "What if you were to fall in love with the princess after marrying her?"

"Then I would love my wife and my lovers. My heart is big enough," Junhui's eyes flicker open to meet Minghao's gaze again as he murmurs into the quiet of the room, the firewood crackling where the flames engulf it.

"It is. Your heart is more than big enough," Minghao says back, a smile spread across his lips that makes Junhui smile back.

"Will you tell me what I don't know? I answered your questions," Junhui reminds him, his grip on Minghao's wrist tightening and Minghao doesn't know if he did that on purpose or accidentally, but it's comforting to him a strange way that he can't explain.

So he nods and inhales deeply, closing his own eyes so that he won't have to look at Junhui's face in case he reacts badlyーeven though he really, really wants to look Junhui in the eyes when he says this. Junhui taps his cheek and Minghao opens his eyes to look at him, smiling when Junhui does, silently urging him to speak without fear. Minghao exhales and lets his body go limp in Junhui's lap, keeping his gaze and accepting whatever outcome he may receive.

"You've got dragon blood running through your veins. You smell like I did when I was a child."

Junhui blinks at him, hand locked around Minghao's wrist in shock. "What?"

"You're a halfling. Half-dragon, half-human," Minghao says, deciding to go the simpler route. "I didn't know if you knew, but I think you deserve to know."

"A-Are you sure?" Junhui asks, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks rapidly, sitting up straight and releasing Minghao's wrist. "Are you positive that Iーthat I'm...?"

He trails off and Minghao knows it's because he isn't ready to say it yet. Saying it would make it all that more real and Minghao can understand that he might need a moment to wrap his head around this. Junhui can take all the time he needs, Minghao just wants to make sure that he isn't in the dark anymore.

Because Junhui is only half, but he, too, is a creature of flames and fire and light and warmth and he deserves to know.

"I know the smell. Spice and ash are much too hard to fake, Junhui. You are of the dragons," Minghao murmurs, not missing the way Junhui's breath catches in his throat when he does. "You have no wings and you breathe no flames. You are soft and you don't hate, but you are like me. You have warmth and a core of fire in you and you love. You love like a dragon and so you are one."

Junhui's eyes sparkle and before Minghao can say anything more, something wet falls on his cheek and Junhui's chest heaves before Junhui wails, a noise so heart wrenching and ugly that it claws at Minghao's chest and rips his heart out, leaving him to bleed dry while Junhui continues to sob. Junhui's face is all scrunched up and twisted to look ugly and he is loud as he cries so it doesn't surprise Minghao when Wonwoo and Mingyu wake up soon after and crowd around the prince, asking him what's wrong, touching him and wiping his face again and again while Junhui ignores them.

Minghao slides off Junhui's lap and tears his hand away, not allowing himself to touch the prince now that he's hurt him by telling him the truth. He's caused this and maybe he should just let Mingyu run him through with his sword, but he says nothing as he closes his eyes, curls up into himself, and turns his back on the trio and the fire alike, opting to brave the bitter cold of his castle instead.

It's a long time before Junhui's cries stop and an even longer period before Minghao manages to sleep.

The next morning, no one mentions the fact that Junhui's eyes are red-rimmed and puffy.

Nor the morning after that or the morning after that.

When Wonwoo reveals that he still doesn't have enough power to cast another large spell so soon, Minghao reassures the warlock that it's more than okay and that he can take all the time he needs until he's okay again. Junhui, Wonwoo, and Mingyu end up staying in Minghao's castle while Wonwoo builds up his strength so he can change Minghao back to his original form.

But as the days go past, Minghao realizes that he may not want to be changed back.

As a dragon, he was filled with pure hate. He killed and took the lives of all those who dared enter his castle and he let the hate he had for knights and humans alike consume him enough that the hate began to corrupt his weak heart. Let it control him as his scales darkened and the goodness from him fled.

Because for all the strength Minghao had as a dragon, his heart was weak and so he was weak as well.

Now that he's a human, he thinks he might actually be able to learn how to let that hate go and let love strengthen his heart instead.

Love, or something akin to it, is already affecting him as the days go past. He's falling so steadily and so quickly that he doesn't really understand what's going on in the first few days, but then they're there to catch him. Some are slower to get there than him, but they are all still there in the end.

Junhui slowly begins talking to him again, asking random questions about dragons, asking if certain things are normal for creatures of flight and flames. Minghao answers each and every one to the best of his abilities, not in the least surprised that Junhui's mates already know.

Minghao cries when Junhui asks him how it feels to know that fire made you and fire will be the one to reclaim you once it's all said and done because it feels lonely. It's lonely and comforting to know that when it's all over, what made you will welcome you with open arms in the end. Junhui wraps him up in his arms and lets Minghao cry himself dry, smiling when Wonwoo and even Mingyu kneel beside them to comfort the dragon-turned-human.

The moon is still a crescent when Mingyu pulls him close during his watch at night and grabs his chin, much more gently than Minghao expected from the knight that usually can't look him in the eye unless he's glaring at him. Mingyu's eyelids flutter closed and Minghao is left to look at his eyebrow while their breaths intermingle between them. Minghao exhales and sighs in relief when Mingyu's lips press to his, similar to how he kissed Wonwoo on that first day, but still different somehow. Musk and sweat are all that Minghao can smell right now and usually that scent alone would have him ready to defend himself, but he's helpless when it comes to Mingyu. Minghao doesn't know what he should do with his body, so he opts to wrap his arms around the knight's neck and lets him lead.

The morning after, Mingyu is much more nicer to Minghao than he was before which makes Wonwoo and Junhui snicker at them when Minghao presses two dragon fruits into Mingyu's hand at breakfast. Mingyu thanks him and bites into the fruit before handing it back to Minghao with a sour look on his face. Minghao laughs along with the others until Mingyu shuts him up by kissing him again.

No one is laughing when Mingyu and Minghao pull apart and Minghao can't explain why his face feels so hot, but then Junhui's smiling at them like he's radiating pure happiness so Minghao focuses back on his food and finishes breakfast in silence.

Mingyu and he sneak in a lot more kisses afterward though.

There's a half-moon in the sky when Wonwoo kisses him.

It's wetter than it was with Mingyu, but it's still just as nice and just as warm as well. Wonwoo moves his mouth in ways different than Mingyu and Minghao's eyes flutter open when Wonwoo's tongue traces his bottom lip. Minghao's lips part in surprise and then Wonwoo's sucking on his tongue and tugging his hair, hard. Minghao grips his waist and presses his thumbs into the warlock's hips, feeling that same urge to mate again when Wonwoo's scent wraps itself around him. He beats it into the back of his mind and groans when Wonwoo climbs into his lap and presses up against him, pushing his hips into Minghao's until he's able to feel something very hard skim across his stomach.

Wonwoo leaves him breathless and raging with want, but Minghao doesn't do more than kiss the warlock that night.

Mingyu tackles them to the floor at lunch the next day after Minghao hands Wonwoo a piece of dragon fruit and Wonwoo hands it right back without even taking a bite then presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth in apology. Wonwoo laughs between them and kisses Mingyu before he kisses Minghao full on the mouth and Minghao almost forgets that Junhui is there too until the prince starts laughing at them for being sprawled across the floor. Mingyu drags him down on top of them and Minghao can't stop laughing at the scandalized look on the prince's face when he gets squished between his mates. Wonwoo kisses his nose and Mingyu presses his face into the back of his neck while Minghao watches them from right underneath, his heart fluttering in his chest when Junhui's expression morphs into something else, something soft. Something more.

When Junhui kisses him, it's on the night of a full moon.

The fireplace is crackling with light and warmth, but Junhui feels even warmer pressed against Minghao. Wonwoo and Mingyu aren't sleeping like they were that first night and it's much too easy to lean into Junhui's embrace and wrap his arms around him. Minghao doesn't care that Wonwoo's predicted he'll be ready to perform the spell again by tomorrow because right now, he's kissing Junhui and that's more important than anything else. Junhui moves them until Minghao is straddling his thighs and then he lies back slowly, Minghao moving with him without even having to think about it. Ash and spice explode on his tongue when Junhui's mouth opens for him and Minghao dives right in without another thought. Junhui's hands toy at the back of Minghao's shirt before they clamber up his back, fingertips fluttering across the ridges of his spine. Minghao groans against Junhui's mouth, his hips bucking up of their own accord and Minghao hums appreciatively when Junhui lets a sound so pretty slip past his lips that he's determined to hear it again.

New hands join Junhui's on his back and Minghao knows without looking that its Wonwoo and Mingyu. Minghao leans even further into Junhui and sighs as the other two men follow him, quickly getting rid of Minghao's shirt soon after.

Minghao doesn't know how mating works for humans, but he's certain that these three are going to show him tonight so he follows their lead and works Junhui's shirt off him, pressing his mouth back to his once he's done. All three of their scents mesh together around Minghao until he isn't sure where one begins and the other ends, but for the time being, for tonight, he pushes his thoughts away and focuses on being here with them in this moment.

By morning, Minghao is tired and worn out and his limbs feel like jelly, but he's happy and he's content. He's warm where he lies in the middle of a nest made from blankets and the bodies of his new mates.

He's really, truly happy for the very first time in his life and that's the only reason he needs to tell Wonwoo he's changed his mind.

Minghao will remain human and he will go back with them to their kingdom. Junhui will marry him as the prince they slew a dragon to rescue and when Junhui becomes king, he'll be able to change the law. Mingyu and Wonwoo will marry as well in the meantime and they will spend any moments they can together until the time for Junhui's coronation is upon them.

He won't live his life as a dragon destroyed and consumed with hate anymore. Minghao has a chance at a real life filled with not only warmth but with love and the gentle touches of his mates that will keep him warm at night like his inner core of fire once did.

They wrap themselves around him and Minghao lets them because he has no plans to let these men go anytime soon.

Minghao's sure that if he were to ever take his dragon form again, his scales would be green like they were when he was youngーwhen he was fresh and new and still had hope in his heart. He's okay with remaining human though.

As long as he has Junhui, Wonwoo, and Mingyu, Minghao knows he'll be alright.

#wonhuigyuhao #meaniejunhao #kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #prettyboysnetwork #betareadernet #svt #angst #fluff #p:ot4 #p:junhui/wonwoo/mingyu/minghao #f:octhtdf #m: fic

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diveronarpg · 5 years

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In fair Verona, our tale begins with BELLAMY SANTO DOMINGO, who is TWENTY-FOUR years old. He is often called BENVOLIO by the MONTAGUES and works as their SOLDIER. They use HE/THEY pronouns.

Is it truly that unusual for such a war-begotten child-like Bellamy to long for peace? His family did not know how to handle such a tranquil child, for they knew nothing but the rage in their blood that called for war. The Santo Domingos have stood by the Montagues side long before little Bellamy came along, their shared thirst for a BELLICOSE lifestyle descending from generation to generation and making their children natural companions. That is – until Bellamy came along. Though he came into the world kicking and screaming, as any child should, he certainly did not grow up that way. His screams became longing howls, his kicking a means of defense from the CRUELTY that the world had to offer. Bellamy grew up averse to the wrestling and the arguing; the rowdy affection that was traded among his family members did not suit the likes of him. Truly, he was born with the POETIC and PHILOSOPHICAL soul of the Ancient Greeks into a family full of Ares-blessed Spartans. Many of those close to him claimed that he was cursed with gentleness, cursed with a foolish longing for peace. But in a place like Verona, perhaps that is exactly what is called for, since everyone else seems so hell-bent on doing the Devil’s dirty work.

When he was able to, he relieved his parents of their burden, knowing that they were not the type of people that were able to raise someone whom they considered a BLACK SHEEP. He did not begrudge them, and they did not begrudge him. No one would go so far as to say that Bellamy’s departure was regarded as BITTERSWEET, for everyone was glad that the oddity of the family would be parting ways. But there was a certain sense of foreboding that shadowed his heart as he turned his back on Verona; if he was not there to put out the fires that raged in the streets and between the families each day, then who would? It was a thought that he pushed to the back of his mind, burying it deep with all the other sins of OMISSION that he seemed to have gathered. But, alas, a person can only give for so long before they realize that they must take a little to survive. It was the one time Bellamy would call his action selfish, and it was the one time that God held him accountable for his sin, too.

He was sitting at the airport when he got the call. Four years of selfishness and bliss was what God allotted him, and it was already time for him to pay off his debts. Traveling the world, immersing himself in the different cultures that life had to offer — to him, such a thing was HEAVENLY. No longer was he expected to act upon rage; no longer was he expected to hate blindly and without reason. But one can only run from Fate for so long. His mother called him sobbing over the phone, begging him to come home so that he could fight the WAR his father was too old to. The underboss had been murdered and the Capulets were to blame. As her eldest son, it was his duty to stand with the Montagues — a duty which he would have been happy to do, were it not for the BLOOD that might stain his hands. But despite the numerous words his parents spat in his direction, the words ‘disobedient son’ never left their lips. Instead of catching his next flight to a country that was never far enough from Verona, he returned to the city that he had happily said farewell to a handful of years before.

Like the prodigal son, he was welcomed back with open arms, and like the prodigal child, he returned with a HEAVY heart. Despite the new position that was given to him to soothe his frayed nerves – posing as a bodyguard to the wealthy – a protector being paid to NOT keep the protect unless they paid toll to the Montagues, he felt his self-loathing grow tenfold. For just when he thought he had escaped the throes of war, it reached out and grabbed him, determined to DRAG him down once more. But despite the fury that reigns over all of Verona, he will continue to call for peace. He will call for it until his voice grows hoarse; he will call for it until the city itself falls apart from the chaos that is sure to storm through its streets. Bellamy may be born into war, may have been bred into it, but that does not mean he will have to submit to it — no, he will fight. After all, he’s a child of Verona, isn’t he?

ROMAN MONTAGUE & MARCELO ROSSO: Brothers. They were inseparable as children, practically counterparts to one another. Their personalities differ extensively and yet they complement each other, like the sun does to the moon, the moon to the stars, and the stars to the night sky. Bellamy was always the one to pull them all out of trouble, whether it be because Roman fucked one person too many or too many people wanted to fuck with Marcelo, and as a result of this, he learned the varying connotations the word ‘fuck’ had. When he left, he knew that they would be the only thing in Verona that he would miss, but lucky for them all, he did not have to miss his brothers for long. Now it’s like they’re all children again, save for the fact that when he pulls them out of trouble, he will most likely be whisking them away from situations that are fatal.

PANDORA PHAN: Bother. Yes, he may have a way with words, but not in the way that Pandora thinks he does. She wants him to utilize them as weapons, as sharpened knives that are slipped between a person’s ribs — piercing the heart. She doesn’t know that his words are meant to soothe the wounds that have been wrought by both sides, not only by the Capulets. Despite his insistence that she leave him be, she continues to pester him whenever she can. He handles her as politely as he can, but even he has a limit and she is not far from reaching it. For now, he shall weather her as he has weathered every storm — that is, with as much voracious insistence that she gives him, he shall meet it with twice as much obstinacy.

RAFAELLA CAPULET: Enigma. He cannot, for the life of him, understand why she perpetuates the senseless bloodshed. She must know the cost of such a war, being that her life is more or less a product of it. Or maybe she perpetuates it because she feels that her own vendetta must be exacted before seeing the end of it. Either way, he can’t seem to reconcile the girl that he once knew with the woman that she is now. Maybe there is a part of him that is jealous — furiously jealous — of the fact that she was able to achieve what he could not — freedom from familial obligations. So maybe, just maybe, there is a sinful part of him that wants her to be just as thoroughly caged by them as he is. If it is a sin, then it’s just another one to add to the count.

ODIN BELLO: Sinner. He knows that Odin’s in the Capulet pocket, and that his loyalty runs as deep as Verona’s river – but that doesn’t stop the two of them from being something akin to friends, although even that term is often tenuous. If anything, Odin is a sinner and goes to Bellamy for his confessions, though the latter is the farthest from a traditional priest. Santo-Domingo, trapped in the service car or at the threshold with the man, has no choice but to listen. Then, to forget that the pseudo confessions ever occurred, the two of them go drinking after their shift until their words slur and they mistake the hard liquor for water. Bello is quite the sinner, and Bellamy knows it – but how can he preach forgiveness and peace, then deny it to the man who needs it the most?

Bellamy is portrayed by MARLON TEIXEIRA* and was written by ROSEY. They are currently TAKEN by LISSA.

#lsrpg #lsrp #bio rpg #rp #mont #nb #bellamy santo domingo #t #tnb

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gayregis · 5 years

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issues with blood & wine

cdpr litcherally took away all the development that vampires got in the book series, despite blood & wine adding more vampire lore, and ill explain how

retcons & just weird differences from canon

blood & wine paints vampires as this big evil secret society and civilization whereas in the books they literally do not have more society than “a bunch of frat guys and sorority girls getting wasted every full moon”

the vampire lore they added with mentions and/or demonstrations of human cattle, bloodthirst as a form of torture, the hierarchy with unseen elders, drinking blood being seen as something much darker and sinister all together instead of a vice of vampires like alcoholism is a vice to humanity, and the whole dumbass retcon about the conjunction of the spheres.

the views on blooddrinking introduced in blood & wine lead to annoyingly misplaced dialogue with geralt and regis like geralt mentioning vampires “treating humans like cattle to slaughter” which, they dont, and which geralt learned in baptism of fire, then remarking disapprovingly that humans are more like an open bar then. this dialogue makes no sense even because that’s NOT how vampires in the witcher function

regis’s torture in la cage au fou is just basically torture porn and is pretty unnecessary. but it’s also overdone because it’s not like regis has been sober for centuries, he broke his sobriety at stygga and therefore has only been sober for 8 years, which... he spent dead. so the temptation of relapse would already be an issue for him, which should have provided enough tension and angst for all of us. the scene in la cage au fou also depicts such a visceral pain of bloodlust and doesn’t show WHY it’s such a widespread temptation and vice for vampires... which imo would be more powerful as both a plot point and statement

side note: not vampire related but geralt and regis literally dont talk about the hansa at all and it annoys me because regis seems depressed for No Specific Reason besides dettlaff’s situation when we know that he and geralt experienced great loss at stygga and are struggling to cope with that

side side note: considering regis broke his sobriety at stygga and could be struggling with thoughts of relapse already, knowing that he’s depressed about the loss of milva angouleme and cahir could provide for some more angst and tension :/

the vampire claws are ugly and not lore-friendly. why not just give them short claws on their hands. when regis and other vampires fight in the books, they barely use their claws anyways. they turn invisible, turn into bats, scream, etc.

the smoke/fog effect annoys me because there’s no mention of that in the books, only of them turning invisible. and you can SEE smoke/fog so tell me what is the point

the op-ness of vampires bothers me because vampires were already op in the books and making them moreso just is annoying because it’s unbalanced. i guess this is partially due to an issue in the books where sapkowski never explained how a vampire could truly be killed, but my interpretation is that sapkowski intended to portray regis as “truly killed” at the end of the series, just obliterated beyond his regenerative ability within the near centuries... i mean it took him half a century to grow back a head, how long would it take him to regenerate his entire body? forever, which is pretty akin to ‘death.’ there wasn’t a need to add social rules about vampires killing vampires because... vampires could ‘die’. but cdpr introduced dettlaff regrowing his hand within like, 3 days, and that was that. i don’t disagree with some of the regenerative things depicted, like regis regenerating after dettlaff spears him lol, that was pretty cool and reminiscent of the battle of the bridge where he regenerated from an arrow piercing in about 2 minutes. but for things more severe than flesh wounds........ i can’t support that because it’s too unrealistic given the canon from the books

i like dettlaff’s monster form, i really do, but seeing as how the books say that vampires turn into BATS............................. i guess it is said that all vampires are unique and have different powers, but come on, what is that, that is not even bat-like, or MAYBE do something with the MOTH aesthetic he was given?? he should have had like, locust powers or something cool, come on....

speaking of animal affinities, this is really nitpicky at this point lol, but regis’s corvids not being shown as birds of omen or some dark motif and instead as just General Helpers......... when they attack stygga in lady of the lake, the birds crowd the fort and circle around it, causing the guards outside to all stir and worry about what ill fate is to befall them. it’s intended to be super creepy and worrying. iirc when regis was around corvids also tended to perch in the trees, sort of ominously signaling that he was around... in blood & wine they’re good boys and i love them, but they’re not entirely creepy enough. think of how regis’s gwent card depicts the corvids as an example of a step in the right direction. what im saying basically is less doctor doolittle and more the birds, please.

honorable mention is regis’s hairline and facial hair. baptism of fire described him as looking middle-aged, so he should look around 45. that is all

the conjunction retcons introduced are just confusing and annoying. regis remarks about the vampires’ “home” wistfully multiple times throughout blood & wine, AS IF he actually saw it at one point. our boy’s like, 400 something years old (436, but who’s counting), so he was born in the 800s (bc the witcher saga and games take place in 1260 something). he’s fucking young compared to someone like the unseen elder, or even for example, AVALLAC’H, who’s older than him by like 2 centuries. the conjunction of the spheres occurred 1500 YEARS BEFORE THE SAGA & GAMES TAKE PLACE, in 200s BCE which is MORE THAN 3 TIMES REGIS’S AGE. so it makes no sense for regis to be talking about the vampires’ homeland before the conjunction because (if regis is considered middle aged by vampire standards) he’s like, 3rd or 4th-generation vampire.

depiction of vampires

i will say that orianna and blood simple was a good move because it shows how vampires’ addictions can manifest in ways other than raiding villages as youth... though i would have liked to see orianna shown as middle aged looking like regis is i’ll let that slide because i know cdpr can’t show a woman who is supposed to come off as attractive looking more than 30 years old

but the strictness of vampire society imposed in blood & wine, through the no killing vampires laws, tesham mutna’s whole hierarchy and structure, is inaccurate in my opinion because in the books the whole THING about the vampires is that while they’re highly intelligent and emotional, they don’t really form social structure beyond drinking parties, which i think was both a nice step away from classic “stuffy manor vampire” types and something unique for the witcher universe...

my biggest issue, though, is with dettlaff and his characterization throughout blood & wine, or should i say, lack of consistent characterization. half of the “good things” dettlaff does isn’t even shown (i.e., resurrecting regis) and is rather explained through word, so the effect on the player isn’t as big. his actual caring and protectiveness of rhenawedd/syanna is overshadowed by syanna’s huge arc about her own backstory so there’s like, NO empathy built up for dettlaff. you actually get to talk to syanna about her opinions and takes, but as for dettlaff you’re relying on regis’s secondhand guessing about his brother’s emotions. regis is also somewhat of an unreliable narrator because it’s not like he can predict everything that will happen... as much as it seems it, sometimes

but the whole point of the books dealing with vampires (and more specifically, regis) was to show that sometimes monsters are more reliable and morally upright than humans. im not saying every vampire in the witcher series should be shown as a paragon of morality, because that’s definitely not the case. but i think for a player who has just met regis, just learned about the vampires in the witcher universe, they need more context and more depictions of Good Vampires, or at least, Vampires That Employ Logic, in order to accept that vampires are NOT some savage beasts like anna and damien argue.

it also doesn’t help with... how regis is depicted. regis is always shown in his humanoid form when he’s proper and kind and geralt is friendly with him, and when he’s in a more bestial form during la cage au fou and tesham mutna, he’s shown as like, a danger [[to geralt]], which is such a slap in the face when you consider how regis and geralt fought side by side at stygga. to even think that regis is somehow untrustworthy tbh literally goes against everything in the books -- in the saga, regis is depicted as yes, a very powerful being, but one that has deep intelligence, emotions, and alliances to geralt and the hansa... when he uses his powers and fights in the saga, it was not only rare, but only ever for Good, to save ciri and yennefer. and he was completely in control of himself and his powers... even when drunk at stygga. not to mention regis was even a self-described ‘coward’ and felt it necessary to avoid battle and conflict because he disliked it so. so when in blood & wine, regis fights during capture the castle like it’s nothing, that’s so alien to his character, idk how to even describe it. he just brushes it off like “looked like you needed a hand, we thought we’d stop by” instead of like, whoa. this is a big sacrifice he’s making by putting himself into this conflict, because he loathes violence. of course there’s also the issue with la cage au fou where regis is shown as Bestially Untrustworthy because he Can’t Control His Powers but those issues have already been discussed.........

also it’s tiring how it’s lazily attempted to explain that vampires aren’t just horrific thirsty beasts of the night and then toussaint is sacked by vampires like a week later. the showing was more impactful than the telling here

back to dettlaff’s inconsistent characterization, it’s annoying how he doesn’t get a chance to explain his thoughts and worries and grievances like syanna does, but also it’s annoying how he’s shown as such a caring person for those he loves (asking syanna if shes okay, feeling guilty that he couldnt rescue her sooner, regretting not being there for her...) but then when he’s betrayed he immediately goes to “sack the city until i can murder this bitch” which is like...... okay, i get it, scorpio vibes, but it doesn’t really make sense without some kind of dialogue between dettlaff and geralt. the player would have to stop and really mull this logic over (it does make sense, but you have to think about it... dettlaff would want to murder syanna because she had him murder those close to him anyways, and dettlaff didn’t know (and never finds out, actually) that the knights were bad people deserving of death anyways). i feel like if dettlaff knew the reality about the knights, then he wouldn’t want to murder syanna....... he would be mad that she didnt communicate with him in the first place, but at least he wouldnt be assuming that he murdered innocents. from dettlaff’s perspective, syanna is a killer who killed some of his best friends, but as the player, we never get to even interact with him or his feelings about the subject. instead we’re faced with an unnecessary dichotomy between the two of them which ends in tears and bloodshed either way, and it’s unsatisfying.

#thoughts #tw3 #bw #regis #dettlaff #omfg big fucking rant goodbye lol #i spent like an hour writing this all out o h my god

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ambivalentangst · 7 years

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Of Abandonment and Icy Beasts

Ayyye who’s ready for some langst! This got way longer than I intended, but I liked the idea and ran with it. Basically, Blue has a vicious streak that surfaces during the lion switch and ends up hurting Lance. Takes place sometime after the end of Season Three.

Blue was a creature of loyalty. She was fluid like rapids, but she was also capable of freezing over with the stubborn frostbite of her love. That being said, she was willing to adapt. Even glaciers moved, however slowly they may creep along a terrain–leaving unmistakable marks from the time spent in place. As her pride’s leader had her paladin ripped away from her with an anguished roar, Blue looked at her beautiful, adept cub and wished to let out a cry of protest too, release her grief like the wild crash of the waves of her cub’s planet. She knew what the black paladin’s absence meant, and looked to her smaller, more agile sister with envy and a loathing that curled within her in a spike of uncontrollable malice.

She did not realize how fully unquenchable her anger was, how much in this case she most definitely did not want to adapt, not until she made a mistake she could never fully fix.

He flew her dutifully despite the rift in the team with their leader gone, and every time he called her beautiful or came to redo her paint, she couldn’t help but to purr and preen like a spoiled housecat. They fit, and even his eyes were the color of their element. A perfect pair.

She could not understand why the others did not tell her cub that he was worthy more often. Of course she was told by the others time and time again when her hackles started rising that it wasn’t intentional, they didn’t mean to hurt him. Still, that didn’t change the tears that had fallen more than once as her cub came to her in the night, curling up in his chair while she tried her best to comfort him. He was good, he was so very kind and giving to them. Of course he teased, but he was quick to reassure them the next moment that he didn’t really mean it. Sometimes they didn’t do the same for him. They did not mean to, but it cut through her cub and dragged him down with the ruthlessness of a riptide. She was not sure she fully forgave the other paladins for that.

Blue loved her cub more than anything, even her previous paladin. She adored Blaytz, but this boy with his long limbs and eyes that held so much sadness within their depths had her mechanical heart in the palm of his hands. She loved that he came to her when he needed something, and settled into her cockpit as she sent all her affections and care his way. Blue was not as welcoming to others, did not share her love so easily. In particular, she did not love the red paladin.

He was so obviously smitten with her cub, it was almost embarrassing. Amongst their pride they’d laughed about it more than once, but that was not the source of her bitterness. No, that spawned from the red one’s leaving. Red had told Black the exchange that had gone on between their chosen ones, that if something were to happen to one he wanted the other to lead. Blue knew from the moment Black broadcasted her shock and pain into the bond between the five of them that he would ultimately take her cub away. He would darken his colors from red to black, and her cub would change hues altogether from blue to red. Her anger towards him bubbled and broiled like a geyser ready to explode. Her sister painted red might’ve been made of magma, molten and unforgiving, but she was not water. She was not something that turned against the creatures that needed it, scalding them in explosions that would paint them in sickeningly crimson lacerations while they begged for the agony to end. Red was swift, unyielding. Blue was not as much so. It took time to drown, for the current to smash one to pieces. There was a more calculating side to the suffering. It took time for Blue’s breath and life, her cub, to be taken away.

The red one was brash and violent, exploding in outburst after outburst that left her cub anxious and wanting, to wrap him in his arms and hold him tight until the storm passed for him. She would always admire her paladin’s caring. How he only wanted to help. He did not reach out though, afraid of being burned. Blue resented that as well, but her rage did not explode until they all tried to pilot Black. Black, who had already made up her mind. Blue forgave him for wanting Black. That was fair. He did not not want her, he wanted to show the team what he was worth. That made sense. That, she could understand. What truly made her furious was in the end, that he went towards Red’s paladin. The one out of all of his teammates who was truly unworthy of his comfort. Why did her cub not see that? Why couldn’t he see that the red cub was tearing them apart? She tried to tell him, had tried to tell him multiple times before. He shoved her away and brushed off her opinion. Red growled as she thought such things. Blue did not care, and her next thoughts traveled through the pride’s bond as well in an icy, vindictive rush. If her cub would continue to chase after the red paladin, the reckless boy who would destroy everything they’d worked so hard for, he could have him. Her cub could have the red paladin for all she cared, and his lion.

When her cub, no, the new red paladin, stared up at her through her particle barrier with tears shining in his eyes it sent a vicious thrill through Blue. Her sisters did not voice the sick feeling it gave the rest of their pride, the horror of what Blue was doing to her beloved paladin in her fury and thirst for revenge. She gave no explanation, nothing at all. She let Lance think whatever he wanted, and finally severed their bond in his mind as well. He made a choked sound as he felt the presence finally leave his mind, the break leaving splintered at the ends like a stick crudely broken over a child’s knee. The princess was there to comfort him, and Blue let him watch as she let down her particle barrier for her. She ignored the true call she felt, throbbing insistently and turning her head towards her original pilot. Let him watch their bond crumble, while she raised the princess up to grow stronger than ever before. Let it hurt, like he’d hurt her. Red spoke out at last, her roar reverberating off the walls of the castle.

Blue surveyed her paladin from up above, watched the tears slide down his cheeks to drip off his chin as he ran away from her hangar and the princess, towards Red. So be it. She wanted him to feel the sting of that betrayal, and looked the other way as he sobbed later, consoled clumsily by her sister who did not know him and how to help like Blue did. Was not fully suited to him. No other member of their pride would be, not like her. Lance belonged with her, and she was going to watch him realize that he’d lost everything when he chose his fellow paladin. Her sisters began to distance themselves from her, waiting for Blue’s frozen heart to thaw. It was not her way to stay chilled forever, and there would undoubtedly be a reaction to what she’d done that would shake the bond. Capricious gods would do as they liked, and when Blue realized her mistakes there would be no sympathy from the rest of her pride. Black had not put a stop to her spite either, too caught up in her own grief and getting accustomed to the pain of her new paladin.

The princess bonded fine with Blue. It took time for her to realize she would not listen to orders, to learn to pilot in general, but they managed. Blue cultivated her means of getting back at her former paladin, even going as far as to push the princess to reckless heights she was not fully prepared for. Lance had not gotten to those heights, but he was close. Had gotten there faster than either of her other paladins should’ve. He did well with Red, which only made Blue angrier. He zipped around in her like it was what he was born for, vivacious and upbeat as he spoke with the new black paladin, becoming his right hand. He rose to the occasion with flourish, all smiles in front of the team despite the thinning of his face and the ashy smudges under his eyes. Her rage mounted higher and higher, only to come crashing down in the dead of night, as her former paladin came to her.

He’d been going to Red’s hangar more ever since the switch, curling up to her and taking comfort with his new lion. Just like he used to with her. This time, however, he crept into her’s, a blanket around his shoulders that cast a shadow dark enough to hide the wetness to his cheeks. His voice was so very small when he spoke, staring up at her regal, frigid self.

“What did I do?” he asked softly. “I don’t understand. Keith still has his bond with Red. She still comforts him. She still loves him. Was I not a good paladin? Why don’t you want me anymore?” Blue felt the words in her core, a sharp pick hitting ice with brutal strength. This was punishment, she reminded herself. This was his fault, for choosing his fellow paladin over her. She did not crack, and her particle barrier did not waver. The new red paladin fell to his knees, a strangled sound pushing past his lips in a way that made Blue’s conscience pay attention. “Please, I just want to understand why you hate me,” he begged. Another whack of the pick, splintering through her frosty exterior. His sobs echoed throughout the room, the blanket hanging loosely off his shoulders while his hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, above his heart. Blue still refused to let him in, despite the low growls building from the mouth of her sister through their bond. Red, god, she hated Red.

Yellow, Green, and even Black had largely been left out of the wake of Blue’s wrath. They didn’t interfere, but her smallest sister wouldn’t stay silent. How many times had she expressed her disapproval, roaring in her fiery timbre through their connection that she was destroying her cub? That he still needed her, and she was a fool for abandoning him. How many times had Blue ignored her?

She watched her former paladin cry, until the shaking of his shoulders stopped and he was finally still. Then there were only his sniffles, sitting and staring at her for hours until the new black paladin came to find him. He visibly cringed as he saw his teammate on the floor, crying to his old ship. He walked forward, wrapping his arms around him.

“Lance, come on. You don’t look so hot.” He tried to coax him away from her, and Blue felt a fresh layer of ice freeze over the cracks that had formed. Her old paladin, the boy who had betrayed her, didn’t reject the touch. He didn’t react either, just let him hold him like a limp doll. He held him like Lance had ached to when everything first started, when Black’s first cub left. Lance pressed himself into him, and clung.

“She hates me. She hates me Keith, and I don’t know what I did,” he whispered. The other boy’s stoic appearance didn’t falter as he awkwardly ran his fingers through his hair in a fumbling attempt to comfort him. He looked to be struggling for the right words to respond with, but came up empty handed. In the end, all he said was a simple,

“I’m sorry.” Lance’s fingers tightened on his shirt, casting shadows from the impression of his grip. He was silent. They both were,and the black paladin continued to provide solace for him until Lance went slack and fell asleep in his arms. It was then and only then that he moved, slipping one arm under his teammate’s knees and the other around his back. Blue felt her displeasure flaming up, but was stopped short by the black paladin who she so detested. He spun to face her, hatred to rival her own hard in his eyes. His glare cut through her in a way that would’ve left her gasping for breath had she been human. His words were sharp stabs at her wild, reckless storm of emotions.

“This is all your fault. He loves you so much, and you broke his heart. Why don’t you care? He’s lost so much weight, and he never sleeps. You know how many nights I’ve found him training, barely able to walk from sheer exhaustion because he wants to be a paladin you’ll want?” He let out a mirthless bark of laughter. “You don’t deserve him, or his love.”

It shattered her icy veneer, sending her fury crashing down in thunderous waves that startled the other members of her pride.

What had she done? What had she done to her paladin, so that the one who drove them apart was left to pick up his broken pieces?

The black paladin left, and Blue finally let go.

The whole of Voltron could not be operated for three days. She and her sisters were silent, roiling with pain emanating violently, inescapably through their bond.

The other four were able to come back online. Blue was dark for the rest of the week.

While she was down, Black found her paladin, the real one. He’d been at a rebel base, along with the green paladin’s brother. While Blue recovered, the pilots that had a lion to fly went back to their original. Her cub had nothing, and Blue was the catalyst for all his fears about being unneeded coming true. Her former paladin, the princess, came to her increasingly, begging her to reactivate. They needed Voltron, they needed her. She did not listen. She was simply inactive, standing tall and proud with darkened lights, a shell of her former glory. Her particle barrier was not even up. She gave up.

When her time of mourning ended and she was able to fight through the weight of what she’d done, she finally lit up again. Her particle barrier came crashing impenetrably down, despite how the princess pleaded with her. It was then and only then that her cub came back to her, coaxed by pleas of his team.

A single foot into her hangar had her scrambling to look presentable, her shield disappearing as she tried to look welcoming. She wished for her paladin to come back to her, and so he did. However, though she tried, it wasn’t the same as before. Where she had once had a boy playful like the tide tickling toes and sun warmed sand, she now had a brittle creature of ice and cautious steps, liable to snap if she was too rough. Their shattered bond hung between them with chilling finality, and despite all of her gentle nudges and attempts at rounding out its sharp edges, her cub shied away. He feared her anger, and feared being abandoned again.

It was a comfort to be back in his thoughts and he in hers without the sting of betrayal she’d been feeling for months on end, but he was not healed by far. She did not know this new version of him, who gripped her controls too lightly, was afraid to push her around. He went to Red instead, when he wanted comfort. Blue was no longer a haven. No, Blue hurt him in every way and he did not forget. Though water remains, it erodes at the land. Changes its shape so that eventually what once was disappears, never to be fully seen again. Her cub was her ground, her anchor. A strong but receiving cliff to crash into, until she weathered him away. Her cub was broken beyond repair, and Blue had nobody to blame but herself.

#langst #blue paladin lance #red paladin lance #lance centric #bad ending #tw emotional abuse/trauma #tw mention of unhealthy eating habits and bad self care #so many water metaphors I'm kind of impressed with myself #I don't think I've seen that much of the lions not being super kind and loving so hopefully this is received well whoops #told from blue's pov #ambivalentlangst

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regalclaw · 7 years

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idk, just sum pics of mah babies

so um, yeah from top to bottom, along with role and some infos, not full bios tho, but even if its a hell load, its not enough. ITS NEVAR ENUF

1. Faren Hyte - name derived from a temperature for no reason and is my main, SS, DPS, Aurin, Exiles, Real name: Kuro Firesoul :

Daughter to 2 of the matria’s escorts, in a village well-known for assassinations of evil-minded Aurin, their very purpose was to protect Arboria’s Queen at all costs. She was born with a strong affinity to fire, and with fire elemental trapped within her via tattoo seal, making her feared of by many since birth, but had a rather decent life on Arboria pre-Ravaging nonetheless. Her mother died when she was born, so she only had her father and 4 brothers to grow up with, explaining her mostly tomboyish personality.

Constant self harm, added with the risk of releasing the fire elemental sealed within, resulted in her not being able to carry out or partake in any assassination missions her village had. She is the only survivor of her village community after the events of the Ravaging, despite the fact that they evacuated after initial bombings in their area, and taking shelter in an already destroyed village, they still got fire-bombed overnight, and her immunity to severe fire damage made it so that she was the only one left.

more random info: For anyone who has already seen some Faren art, u may have noticed her chest scar on occasion. She got that during a dominion patrol encounter in her area after the fire-bombing incident. Yeah, she got into a fight and let the fire elemental possess her temporarily despite how much she loathed at the idea, blah blah blah, and her mostly coming out of the fight unscathed. But at the last part of the fight one of them dommies picked up and used a power rifle at Faren at point blank range, blowing her chest cavity open. It leaked lava and blood, but it didn't kill her bcuz she was still possessed. After she wiped the whole patrol, she regained control of herself but fell unconscious in the process as she bled out. At that point she would’ve died, but luckily for her, an Exile patrol hovered by and rescued her, providing medical care immediately. also her blood composition confuses doctors bcuz it wasn't exactly like aurin blood, mostly because it was very hot to the touch. Its literally lava-hot if Faren’s angry af so its like a last resort defence mechanism? ;O

2. Reyga Dragonclaw - name derived from my most common username (which is RegalClaw), Stalker, DPS mostly (has never tanked with her), Draken, Dominion (?):

Daughter of a clanlord, she was one of the most skilled warriors of her generation, but sadly for her kind, she is with a flaw; she refuses to kill her duel opponents. It was something her father couldn't tolerate, and after pitting Reyga in a duel to the death with her best friend (both of them being the most skilled amongst their ranks) and despite her winning the fight, she refused to kill him, because aside from being best friends since birth, she couldn’t bring herself to kill her battle comrade. Her father thinks of Reyga as a disgrace to their name, and despite her overwhelming combat abilities, refuses to have her as the next ruler of their clan. And so he sent her away with the other Dominion forces to Nexus, because 1) he couldn't stand such “tainted” behavior, and 2) her style would prove useful for the ICI, despite her protests against it. Her rebellious personality was stemmed from this relationship with her father.

other info: Reyga is responsible for the huge scar across Faren’s shoulder. And as you’d expect, they picked a fight with each other. Reyga couldn’t bring herself to kill Faren, but she didnt want to turn her in to the ICI bcuz she felt that Faren was “a truly worthy opponent” and that there was no point in interrogating her anyway, so she spared her. That didn't help the fact that Faren nearly bleed to death due to the extent of the injury (it wasn't a crippling injury, but it did cut an artery or two, so yeah, lots of bleeding).

3. Luna Tikkels - name derived from the words lunatic and tickles, Esper, DPS mostly but is a capable healer, Chua, Dominion:

Born to a Chua family living in whats left of the rural areas of Bezgelor. Unlike other Chua, Luna Tikkels, like his family members, has this weird sense of value for life, and claims that new knowledge can only be learned whilst alive, and that dying for science is but a big joke, because you yourself cannot improve your own theories and inventions if you die because of it. His family motto is “Learn to Live, and Live to Learn”. Was sent to Nexus along with other Chua, as a group of skilled healers designated to a warzone and whose roles were to provide medical assistance to the troops there. Is friendly with people, and strangely enough, with Exiles as well, making him seem as a traitor in the eyes of the Dominion. He is also quite artistic for a Chua.

Mini lore (?): During his first few days on Nexus, Luna was sent on a solo patrol on Ellevar and was to provide his medical services to anyone in need that he comes across, and to report of any suspicious activity. And during said patrol, he encountered a badly injured aurin, and despite how much this Aurin hated Luna and his kind, Luna treated his wounds, watched over him as he rested, and provided him a simple meal of campfire-cooked gribbon meat. Apparently this act of compassion confused the aurin, in which Luna was able to clarify that his purpose was not because he was a healer, but because living was the only way to learn from your mistakes, and told the aurin that his mistake was going to Ellevar and nearly dying for it, so he made him live so that he won’tend up there again like how he was first found. When the aurin questioned as to why not kill him instead, Luna replied that killing wasn’t his way of learning things, and that he was “just following the EXACT orders Luna was told”.

regarding the one drawing of Luna, u may ask “why the psycho face?” Well, he is a chua after all, and despite his way of livin’, his inner self just demands extreme violence, if not science, when in combat. its natural for him ;O

4. ARP Kongou - name derived from, what is literally, ARP Kongou (in other words, Arpeggio Kongou, from a boats anime), Warrior, DPS/Tank (was the first one who i felt that tanking was ez af), Mechari, Dominion:

A Millenial Mechari. Not much is known about her, even by her superiors, fellow soldiers, and to a certain extent, other Millenials. Long ago, after the Cassian Civil War, Kongou and her fleet attempted to make a peace treaty with the Exiles before things got worse between them and the Dominion, but as they were about to do so, massive amounts of reinforcements arrived on the scene, resulting in an unprovoked battle that devastated a majority of Kongou’s fleet and some of the Exiles’. When her whereabouts couldn't be found, the Dominion forces left that area in space, but little did they know that she survived.

For centuries, Kongou’s broken body was floating adrift the cold, dark emptiness, detecting no other life for years, and was all alone with only the stars to keep her company. She’d just fall into a deep sleep, as she tried her best to reserve whatever energy she had left. But as she slept, she’d have these dreams. Dreams that told her of what the Dominion were doing, of the pasts of people who weren’t even born yet, of history that has yet to come to pass. And after many long years of sleep, she was finally found by a cargo vessel, apparently lead by an ekose and his crew. They weren’t sure if she was technically “alive” at that point, but they believe if anything, the Dominion may want her back. Upon their landing to Cassus, the daring ekose captain personally informed Axis Pheydra of what they found, believing that Kongou must be of great value of the Dominion, and that her overall appearance, despite being worn out dents and the space weathering of her body, apparently shows that she is a Millenial. The ICI took her in immediately and gave the crew their pay (no one died, don’t worry). And as much as the ICI needed information, they also need her services, for she was a very reliable fighter and was a great leader. So they took her to the Foundry and created a new body for her. And then... (lots of bio later)... Nexus.

infos: She is apparently named after a character in some anime boats, the Arpeggio of Blue Steel one ;O Despite her nature as a mechari, she has learned a lot from her dreams, so she’s quite sociable, and with a wide range of emotion to boot. but also as a mechari, she’s strong, intelligent af and shows great leadership skills. And like how she tried before, she still strives for peace between the 2 factions, but now she does it alone and in her own way. Don’t ask how, but she IS workin’ on it ;O

5. Sel Siyus - Esper, DPS atm but is meant to be a dedicated Healer, Aurin, Exiles, Real Name: Kori Aquasoul :

Daughter to 2 messengers of a distant tribe, Sel grew up in a small community located by a mountainside lake. When the messengers decided to settle down in that village, they were welcomed with open arms, and with hospitality... but little did they know of the reasons behind it.

As it turns out, the villagers worshiped the elements of water. Long ago, there was a great drought and many died of thirst. But one day a newborn child amongst them was “blessed” with water affinity and had a water elemental within them, and when it was able to be tamed, they used it for the land and the drought was no more. Because of this, they believe it is the reason why they’re still alive to that day. Over the years, her parents grew suspicious of the locals, especially their dedicated group of worshipers and its leader, and the village matria (her appearance is scarred and somewhat crippled), but they didn't question them for they feared of what may happen to their daughter if they asked.

Sel’s early years were like any other aurins’. Except she’d recieve lots of praise. And as Sel was about to become 13 years old, the aurin locals sent gifts and praises to her like no other, to the point that it ended up like worship. They told Sel that the entire village, lead by the worshipers’ leader, will throw out a special birthday “ceremony” for her. This greatly confused Sel, and soon enough, her parents finally figured out why their suspicions where right.

On the night before the ceremony, the matria was able to sneak into Sel’s house. When her parents found out, they were about to attack the matria, but she was able to persuade them not to do so, and that she was only there to help. And then they learned from her about why the villagers were doing this; they believe that Sel is the next vessel for the water elemental, which is sealed within the matria, and that the “ceremony” turns out to be a ritual in which they will transfer the elemental from the matria to Sel, ultimately killing the the previous vessel and making Sel the next one in the process. She also told the family that this tradition has been going on for so many years to the point the elemental drives its vessels insane over time; the ritual was an unnatural process as it denied the elemental its freedom and its choice as to whether or not it wants to possess another newborn aurin after its host’s death.

The matria also told them that if they wanted a good life for Sel, they should leave now. But it was too late as it didn’t take long before some of the locals found out, and the worshipers had no choice but to enact the ceremony. When her parents tried to deny them of taking Sel, the worshipers killed the two and went on with the ceremony... (INSERT MOAR FKIN LORE HERE IM SO SORRY), Nexus.

infoez: Sel’s lore seems the easiest to explain imo, but also annoyingly long. I have mentioned some of her lore in previous drawing of her’s, so if u want to read sum, go check it out. and yes, those other lore tidbits will SOMEWHAT explain why Sel’s back is striped af with scars and why she has those ruined patches of skin around her neck, arms, wrists, and legs ;O DID I ALSO MENTION THAT HER LORE WAS L O N G

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sry not sry for long post plz forgives

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