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#its no ones burden to bear but his own and hes not some child who needs to be coddled to sleep

dairy-farmer · 7 months

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Bruce comes back from being dead to Dick estranged from the family and Jason and Tim being Dami’s parents

such a twist on the usual 'bruce is lost in time trope' where jason and tim end up being damian's primary caretaker!!!!

honestly dick is a character that is often forced to shoulder and bear the burden of a lot of things. bruce dying and leaving the mantle of batman could have the potential to have pushed him over the edge and just been too much. so rather than trying to keep the family together, telling his brothers they only had each other for support- he left. it's just the final nail on the coffin for him, the straw that breaks, the request of him that is just too much.

tim and damian wake up one morning to dick's room empty and his stuff gone. all that's left is a note about how he can't do it anymore and that he's sorry but that this was never what he signed up for. this wasn't how he'd wanted his life to go, that he'd never wanted to be the person who would raise two kids when he barely had his life together. dick writes about how he knows that with bruce gone not only would gotham fall on his shoulders but damian and tim, his adopted brothers, would now be his responsibility as well and....he can't do it. he taps out because this isn't what he wants, having the bats and the "mission" be what his life revolves around isn't what he wants. he's sorry but anyone else in his shoes would do the same.

of course damian and tim's relationship is tense and not good but...now a big heaping responsibility has suddenly fallen on tim's shoulders. dick is gone and alfred has already mentally checked out because bruce is gone which makes tim the eldest person and the only person available to take care of damian. if damian gets in trouble, if he kills, if he goes back to the league- that's on him.

and that's what tim is concerned about at first. but then other things start popping up. like damian being hungry. so tim has to figure out what to feed him, how to feed him. damian needs clean clothes for school, damian needs to be registered for school, damian needs supplies for school, the school needs a number they can contact in case damian acts out and tim has no choice but to offer his own and he gets called in practically every week for one problem or another. tim has to try, he has to do a LOT now that he's the person taking care of damian.

so by forced proximity and the fact that tim genuinely has to try, their relationship smooths out. they have some bumps, some resistance from damian who was harboring some deeply hurt feelings over dick essentially abandoning them. but eventually the two of them are able to come together because they're stuck and there's no point in making things more difficult for the other.

when jason goes around killing, as the eldest and now the next prime candidate in gotham to be batman- tim has to stop him. of course jason gets a laugh out of tim and damian teaming up, makes jabs about when "goldie" is going to arrive only to go quiet when he sees the looks on their faces.

of course the three of them don't get along immediately. but jason does his own legwork and realizes dick has essentially fled the coop leaving the two youngest on their own and with tim now shouldering the responsibility of raising a child (because alfred is certainly not in the right place to do it- in fact alfred has taken his vacation time and tim is the ONLY one caring for damian) and being batman. for jason its reluctant help initially. he's not bringing over casseroles and bottles of milk- he's just occasionally checking up on them because he remembers being 17 and there's no way he would've been able to raise a kid like tim is supposed to be doing. and he's right. it's too much. tim is clearly at his wits end getting called to damian's school every other day for behavioral problems and working at WE because he's appointed himself ceo to protect bruce's legacy.

jason wonders what exactly dick had been thinking abandoning them like this it's so...uncharacteristically cruel of him. if anyone would throw themselves on a sword for their brothers jason would've thought it would be dick...

and so... jason steps in a few times much to tim's great relief. he starts spending more and more time with them because tim helps him out with information sometimes and before long jason is doing grocery runs and helping damian with his homework while tim cooks dinner and talks about how jason's best idea was telling tim to request to work from home and only going into WE once every few weeks.

by the time bruce returns they're a well oiled machine and his inquiries about where dick is only brings up some bitterness and resentment from tim and damian. and when dick DOES return after having had his mental breakdown all across europe it's to...a very distant relationship with tim and damian. things are tough and they never quite get back to the way they were, the way they could've been if he'd never left....but if dick had never left then jason would've never come into tim and damian's lives the way he did.

so if tim never sheds the habit of pressing a soft, thankful kiss to jason's cheek every morning, and if damian never quite gets into the habit of darting to bruce for help with his schoolwork or to fill out a permission slip then...no one really musters the ability to say anything about.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #jaytim

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cinnamonest · 10 months

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Yandere Profile - Baizhu

When I tell you I adore this man so much, he's so underappreciated and I intend to do my best to do him justice

ft. Changsheng the enabler and Qiqi the liability

WARNINGS: fem reader, dubcon/noncon, abduction, heavy drugging content, mentions of force feeding against a hunger strike, emotional manipulation of a child, homicide

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

If one had to describe his nature in a singular word, it would be careful.

Incredibly, meticulously careful. There is not one single step taken that has not been perfectly planned out ahead of time, multiple possibilities and issues thought through and accounted for. He would not rush into something of this nature unprepared, and more importantly, his cautiousness comes from another trait he has in abundance: determination. Dedication to seeing a goal through, the firm resolution that he will obtain what he desires, one way or another, with no regard to what measures need to be taken to do so, nor how long it will take.

Not to mention, from a moral perspective, one might be surprised at how indifferent he is to the notion of doing something... unethical. People tend to associate medical professionals with some sort of assumed overall moral good, that someone who dedicates their life to the pursuit of the health of others must be a morally sound person in all areas of life by default.

Well, that is true to an extent. He does want to stay within ethical bounds. He's a generally good and compassionate person, yes, and would never go out of his way to harm anyone for the sake of it. He doesn't bear any malice towards anyone. He will inconvenience or burden himself if it means doing the right thing, when the right thing does not pose any risk to him and his goals. And when it's things he doesn't care too much about, he will relinquish a goal if he realizes it would do harm. So overall, it would be correct to say that he is a morally sound person.

But if violating certain commonly agreed-upon ethical boundaries is necessary to obtain his most fervent desires... well.

He's perfectly well-aware. He's self-aware, for starters, acutely so. He knows exactly what he feels and why, knows it is of abnormal degree, and knows what it will inevitably lead to. He knows that both from a social and ethical standpoint, such things are wrong, that it violates society's conventions and standards (not to mention laws) of what is acceptable behavior by limiting another's freedoms and violating their autonomy. It's not even something he really needs to reflect on. He just notices and becomes aware of an intense emotion, recognizes that emotion and its degree of severity, and draws an immediate logical conclusion as to what will happen depending on how he chooses to handle that emotion and how each course of action is perceived by society. Very simple, really.

It's lamentable — he himself has reflected on this to himself multiple times, often speaking aloud to Changsheng about it behind closed doors.

How troublesome that even I am not immune to these sorts of desires...In the end, the nature and instinct of any given creature is immutable, I suppose.

She rarely has anything to offer other than vague warnings of not letting it spiral out of control, which he assures will not happen.

But oh well. Sure, it's inconvenient, but there is no point in fighting something as innate as one's own feelings in this area of things. Suppressing the emotions would be a waste, so it is much wiser and more efficient to simply accept them, then work through how he intends to handle them.

Cautious, intelligent, perceptive, patient, self-aware, willing to violate ethics, and of an indomitable resolve. This combination of traits is, as you might imagine, more or less one of the worst hands of fate that could be dealt to whoever is targeted by the individual possessing them.

He's an easy person to warm up to, though. Very likable and pleasant. He's not nervous around you or anything, and gives no hint of any ill intent, so you have no reason to suspect anything. Well, he might be just a bit overbearing towards you, just barely noticeably touchy or insistent, but it's nothing that strikes you as indicative of anything you should genuinely be concerned over.

Except for this... aura. While nothing he does really concerns you, there is almost some tangible feeling of something being "off" in a way you can't really articulate nor explain. Regardless, he's been helpful and kind to you, so you brush it off as nothing.

There's also distinct lack of the intense outward expression of emotion usually associated with obsessive lovers and abductors and the like. He's fairly... calm about it all. Perhaps it's an ability stemming from his meticulous and careful planning to eliminate risk, or perhaps it's that he has full and acute self-awareness and accurate perception and understanding of himself and why he feels what he does. Or perhaps it's just his nature. Maybe some combination of all of the above. But even at his worst moments, he has a fairly calm aura about him, nothing seems to bother or upset him too much. He always seems to have calculated for every potential misstep or complication.

He does make an attempt to grow closer to you, though. He's masterful with an ability to orchestrate encounters that genuinely seem to be coincidence, as well as creating inconveniences for you that will lead you to seek him out. If anything, you're usually apologizing for doing so, since he seems so busy... but he dismisses it with a wave of his hand, assures you that it's fine, that he's very happy to be of assistance to you.

This, too, isn't just because he enjoys your presence, but it's also a preparatory measure in and of itself. The more familiar you are with him, the closer you consider yourself to be with him, the easier of a time he'll have handling you when the time inevitably comes that he'll have to take certain courses of action that you may disapprove of, to say the least. He needs all the endearment to you he can get before that happens.

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

He's a bit conflicted, can't really decide if he wants to or not. His reluctance isn't really based in morality nor fear; he's not particularly concerned with the former on this matter, and he's fully confident he can successfully pull it off, so no need for nervousness.

Rather, he has the sort of possessive, primal desire to take you all for himself, one that he recognizes as a rash instinct that he needs to carefully ponder, and yet, he realizes that the direct consequence of acting on those desires would cause him to fall out of favor with you. He does love your smiles you give him, how nice you've been to him, your kind words, and he knows that would disappear, only to be replaced with resentment and fear, the moment he takes you away from your life.

He often sighs and mumbles to himself about it. What to do, what to do.... such a frustrating predicament.

Human nature is fascinating, isn't it? He's so consciously aware that this is abnormal and unwell, that he should attempt to resolve it, yet he has no desire to resolve it, only craving to further indulge in it. Yet he wants to be certain that he doesn't take any rash action, that he knows what he's doing through and through.

So, he refrains, at least for some time. However, it's not an attempt to refrain permanently — he knows full well that eventually, he will act on his desires, that it's only a matter of time. But for now, he wants to savor every word, every interaction, every smile, until he knows he will eventually cave in, and those things will be gone. He also reasons that, as aforementioned, by knowing you and being acquainted with you longer under your normal life and circumstances, he can attempt to endear himself to you and grow closer to you in that time, which will, he hopes, ease the transition when you no longer have your freedoms, that you will be more inclined to forgive him and act with empathy for him rather than hostility.

However, should he happen upon a coincidence, the stars align and the pieces all fall into place so perfectly without him having to arrange it, well, he'll certainly take the opportunity that presents itself. You show up complaining of fever or headache or something of that nature, and in your discomfort, it doesn't quite occur to you how unusual and seemingly irrelevant the questions he's asking you are—

I assume you let someone know where you were headed when you left home? ...No? Oh, I see....

You don't by chance have anywhere you'll be expected to be in the next short while, would you?

—and it won't, until it's too late.

Otherwise, should the opportunity not arise on its own, he has to wait. The days pass. A few months in total. But the longing and the ache and the scalding feeling of intense jealousy when he sees you with others, it all becomes too much, and he's forced to put into motion a plan he has now had quite some time to prepare for. Invite you over for "something important" with perfect timing, memorizing your schedule to hopefully ensure that it will happen before you see anyone whom you might inform of where you're going. From there, once he has you inside, it's no effort at all from that point forward.

He has a remarkable ability to give off this calm, nonthreatening aura, combined with a gentle and charming voice that lulls you into a sense of safety, that keeps you from noticing anything strange about what he's doing, even if you do still have that faint sense of unease in the back of your mind. It feels sweet and endearing, really, that you trust him so.

So he goes through with it. Sets up the necessary steps, and executes the plan as predetermined.

And then he tells you about it.

Once it's already too late, of course. You already drank what you were given without any hint of suspicion or distrust, and the way your eyes suddenly widen and your body twitches and slumps forward indicates it's setting in.

That's a regular part of the effect, terribly sorry about that. Oh, don't worry, you're not in any danger. You see, it's just... ah, how should I put it...

Thus he starts to go on elaborating on exactly what he drugged you with, and more importantly, begins explaining exactly why. As in, he openly confesses to being deeply enamored, as he puts it, and that he, likewise in his own words, has—

—some sort of abnormal psychological development that has taken place, although I'm not entirely sure how to best articulate it... regardless, I'm sure you now see that these impulses are inducing problematic behavior, but I'm afraid I have already succumbed to them, unfortunately...

He speaks with this lighthearted tone and whimsical sighs if he's explaining some sort of mild, harmless inconvenience, something of little consequence, all while he's gently going about sitting you back upright, closing your mouth so you stop involuntarily drooling, fixing the cup you spilled over and cleaning up what spilled onto the table. As if it's just a regular, everyday occurrence that he's paying little attention to, and not something of great weight and severity.

What this ultimately means is that you won't actually be leaving anytime soon. While unreasonable on its own, I assume that makes sense in the context of what I've just explained to you.

He turns back towards you, loops his arms under your armpits and hoists you up. There's a slight strained grunt with the physical exertion, but he manages to pick you up without too much trouble. He's still talking while carrying you through the door to the hall, but you don't really hear much it as you begin to succumb to unconsciousness — you only really process one more sentence.

You're awfully trusting, you know. You really ought to be more careful, should someone could have malicious intent...

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

The physical restraints aren't so bad. He keeps a reverse lock on the outside of the front door, and for a little while, a singular chain to your ankle.

After a short while, and a verbal agreement that you will not try anything, he gives you a surprising degree of leniency, gives you the ability to roam to some extent. You can be present at the front where strangers show up to the desk, even. But he'll be watching. He has ways, as he puts it, of knowing what you're doing.

You're not sure what to do. It seems like such an opportunity, and yet, you know that someone as calculated as he is wouldn't give you that opportunity without having a plan he could easily enact if something goes wrong. You know he doesn't really place that much trust in your word through your verbal agreement alone. You want to do something to try and catch someone's attention or something, but there's this gut feeling you have that knows that doing that would be a mistake.

He almost certainly wouldn't harm anyone, you're pretty sure of that being true, but... can you say that with one-hundred percent certainty? If pushed to the point of it being a matter of securing you and your arrangement, preventing someone who saw more than they should from telling, can you really be certain he wouldn't take drastic measures...?

You just don't know. Sure, you're fairly certain of his overall goodness of character... but then again, that's also what you thought when you brushed off the occasional comment or expression from him that used to make you feel some faint sense of alarm or unease — that he was certainly a good person, just a bit eccentric at times. You told yourself back then that he was not the sort of person who would ever do anything bad to anyone. You overestimated his goodness once, and look where that got you. Can you really be sure that someone who would go so far as to do what he's already done, wouldn't hurt or kill someone too, if it came down to it...? And when you think even more about it, doesn't the fact that he's letting you roam so much imply that he is ready to take some other measures if you tried anything?

You just don't know. It's all so uncertain.

And he knows that. You can tell from the soft, content, knowing smile on his face. He knows exactly what thoughts are going through your mind. As long as that doubt is there, hopefully you won't force his hand to make him have to take unsavory measures to ensure your security.

Now if you were to actually successfully, temporarily get away and be caught and brought back again, this is where Baizhu actually has a rather unique reaction, both intriguing and odd compared to how other captors and obsessive lovers would react.

That is, he harbors no resentment or anger over your desires to be free. In fact, provided he caught you early, his reaction is fairly calm. If you managed to get out for a while, he's more visibly panicked when he finds you, but he still manages to calm himself down by the time he brings you back, and doesn't lash out or have any sort of angry outburst.

You still endure some form of punishment — can't just let you get away with it, of course, you'd just be more likely to do it again — but you very quickly notice he doesn't really seem all that angry or anything. At some point, you question him on it, and he's very transparent with his answer.

To tell you the truth, I can't really blame you. You're only following your instincts. It's endearing, in a way.

Being angry, he explains, would be nonsensical, silly, unreasonable. It is only natural for a human to desire autonomy and as few restrictions on themselves as possible. Yet, it is also human nature to want to control others, and to have the object of their desires all to themselves, kept away like a treasure. Both his actions and yours are perfectly natural and reasonable, and since he himself has followed his natural inclinations and instincts, he can't blame you for doing the same and following yours.

And then, he smiles.

But it seems you weren't quite capable of achieving your goal. I suppose you'll just have to hope you have better luck on your next attempt... And I, that there won't be one.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Needless to say, Baizhu is both intelligent and perceptive. Most of the time, he can easily catch you in a lie. More importantly, he knows that given the circumstances, it's obvious you'll be trying to lie to him fairly regularly, so he's on guard about it, making him that much more likely to notice.

But on the rare occasion you do manage to trick him in some way, unless it was something that put you, him, or your situation in genuine danger, he doesn't get too upset. It's just the philosophy he takes, he explains as he shrugs it off— Really, it was foolish of me to not anticipate something like that. Considering the circumstances, I should never have allowed myself to become so unguarded.

Much like with attempts at escape, it's only natural to lie to him to achieve what you want. Likewise, it's only natural for you to receive some form of punishment to deter you from repeating the attempt of deception. Simple. So while he doesn't have a particularly angry or emotional response to it, don't expect to just get away with it either.

He's also very well aware when you manipulate him, acknowledges it even, but similarly to lying, he doesn't seem to mind too much. If anything, as long as it's something mild in nature, he finds it amusing, will chuckle and smile.

Oh, my. I see what you're doing... well, how could I say no when you're being so sweet about it?

That applies only to that which is mild, though. If your request or attempted goal is something that would actually be a risk, he gets far more serious and firm in his approach.

Surely you don't expect me to fall for that, dear. As much as I'd like to fulfill any wish you have, I know better than to take that sort of risk.

It was worth a try. You win some, you lose some.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He knows that mental stimulation will be important to your ensuring that you remain of sound mind and health for the foreseeable future. There's limits, of course, he's not dumb enough to fall for requests for things that you could use to harm him or break out, but he'll get you what you want, within reason. Especially books, which, as he says, are important for keeping your mind sharp. Those he'll get you even without asking, often bringing you something at random because he thinks you might enjoy its contents.

And hey, he also might as well capitalize on the opportunity. To prevent boredom, you can also help him out. Lots of jars that need organizing and labeling, papers that need to be filled and documented, and so on. Of course, he'll double check to ensure there's no maliciously doing it wrong or anything, but he appreciates it if you're willing and compliant.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

He doesn't like to feel like he's being strict or harsh, but he does set specific guidelines. They're fairly short and simple.

One, you will not attempt to leave, or to rope anyone else into "helping" you.

Two, you will not attempt to cause any harm or damage to himself, his property, or any other residents or visitors you may come into contact with.

Third, you will not attempt to commit any action that intentionally causes, or has a potential to accidentally cause, any danger or harm to yourself.

Violate any of these conditions, and naturally, there will be consequences. All actions have cause and effect, this is just the law of the universe, so it is only fair to enforce a consequence.

He's still pretty forgiving, but if you push his limits, he'll begin enacting those consequences, getting progressively more intense according to the nature of your offense. Confining you to one room, putting you back into an ankle shackle, so on and so on. All done with this self-righteous attitude, telling you how it's for your own benefit that this is done.

But along the same previous lines of reasoning as to why he gives you things to keep you occupied, he knows how important stimulation is to one's psychological well-being, and can just as easily use this against you. If you've been very, very bad, repeated attempts at running away and total defiance, some more intense measures are needed. As with any other ailment, your poor behavior is something he has just the thing to treat with.

The dependency itself, you see, creates bonding. Being forced to rely on another for such basic needs is a process equally humiliating and endearing. The isolation, on the other hand, ensures that your brain associates only him with the positive chemicals and emotions induced by having stimuli to free you from boredom, as well as your needs being met and...

He continues to explain it out to you as he goes. You're still only restrained by one ankle binding, but he doesn't need much in that regard, because he doesn't really have to worry about you moving around in the first place. You can barely move a muscle anyway.

It is quite torturous, isn't it? He almost feels bad for you. You still have some control over your face, and he can see the obvious displeasure in your expression. Unable to move your arms, your legs, anything but the truly important muscular functions like being able to swallow and breathe and the like. Forced to sit there numbly while he brings cups of water and spoonfuls of broth to your mouth, when he wipes your body down in substitution for bathing. Yes, it's clear how much you dislike this, but that's the point, isn't it? This would not have to happen if you could just be a bit more compliant. That wouldn't truly be so hard, would it? He asks in such a patronizing voice. Should you keep your mouth shut and refuse to eat or drink, he'll sigh, give up for the moment and try again later. If this persists after a few days, though, he'll just have to force it, and is not above doing so.

After a few days of this, he'll allow it to wear off, provided you've proven your repentance and promise you're going to be good in the future. An unlikely promise, he realizes, but at least the sentiment counts.

Oh, and he does establish one other rule out of frustration after a certain incident: no taking his glasses and hiding them. Really, it was quite a childish act of spite on your part, and caused him a terrible deal of inconvenience. Best to address it and forbid that from reoccurring...

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Rivals are actually something you don't have to worry too much about, in terms of them getting hurt. Baizhu is calculated and reasonable, highly rational, and doesn't take any sort of rash action. And in his mind, as long as you're confined, other people are no longer an issue.

If he feels someone is becoming enough of a threat in the pre-captivity stage of his obsession, being aware of any affection another person has for you or vice versa will simply serve as a catalyst in your abduction, and almost certainly expedite that process, out of urgency to get you away from a perceived threat. Provided you are secured, though, he sees no reason to risk the potential consequences of taking any action against a rival, even if he does harbor resentment for them.

Do not, however, mistake that for instinctive reluctance. It doesn't mean he's the sort of person who would be to afraid to kill someone, or, as you might initially imagine he would be, a person who would feel an innate sense of guilt and wrongness, who is averse to doing anything truly wrong. No, he's more than confident in his ability to successfully pull off a homicide if he were to try, and honestly, he's really not that naturally guilty, that is, in the sense of the sort of person who would be haunted by their actions and feel guilty by instinct. Rather, he has to intentionally hold himself back, tell himself he can't do such a thing no matter how much he wants to, as a matter of dignity.

Homicide would, after all, be more or less entirely antithetical to his universal occupational creed. And while again, he doesn't have an instinct against it, he values his own self-image. He wouldn't feel guilty, but he'd feel disappointed in himself, ashamed to have failed to uphold the idea of sanctity of life and all that. And perhaps even more importantly, such an act is one of petulant spite, if you ask him, and he would be somewhat embarrassed to see himself committing such an act, as if it's an admittance of having let someone else's presence bother him so much. It's a matter, thus, of self-respect and dignity more than anything. Therefore, with you secured away, he'll simply leave them be... although he's not above perhaps a bit of pettiness if the opportunity presents itself, such as being able to mildly inconvenience them somehow without it being connected to him.

That being said, there is a limit to his inhibition for the sake of self-image.

There's one circumstance under which he would see it fit to kill: said rival is looking for you after your disappearance, and he gets the very strong sense that the individual in question knows something they shouldn't, or otherwise seems to have some correct suspicion of what has occurred. He feels their eyes linger on him, this narrow-eyed sort of glare. They ask some rather odd questions. Or perhaps they're foolishly upfront about it, asking if he wouldn't happen to have seen you on the day you were last heard from, an accusatory edge to their tone.

Baizhu is actually quite masterful at keeping calm and maintaining an innocent act in such situations. He doesn't get defensive or hostile, rather, he pretends he just doesn't perceive the subtle tone of accusation. No, I haven't. Terrible thing, that. I hope there's some good news to come out of that situation soon...

But to himself, this confirms that he can't afford to leave this individual undealt with. It's not his fault, really. They forced his hand. Not that he's overjoyed to finally have a reasonable self-justification to kill off the person that has secretly always bothered him more than he lets on, though, no, nothing like that.

His method is perfectly simple, although he may have to wait a while to be able to enact it. But no matter, he can bide his time. Everyone gets sick eventually. They'll come to him. And if it's too urgent, they clearly know far too much and he can't afford to wait, he simply makes an invitation, says he has something he heard or saw that may have some connection to you, and that he wishes to discuss it at once.

If it's the former, and he actually has the chance to drug them, he'll easily take that method, as it's the cleanest and the one he's most adept with. And if he invites them to speak with him, well, he'll still poison their tea and all, but he's not going to get his hopes up that it will actually be consumed, given they have every reason to suspect him. Unfortunately, this may mean he's forced to take more unpleasant means.

As much as he enjoys having them out of the way, it turns out the act of killing someone via means other than poison is actually quite unpleasant. He knows he's not healthy and strong enough at the moment to risk being overpowered if he attempted strangulation or drowning, so he just has to go full-on old fashioned and come up behind them and stab them to death. It's a very brutish act, really. Probably looks very awkward and ugly from an outside perspective. Ugh. Blood on his hands and face and the floor and the table... and now he has to wash this shirt, too... at least it will make a decent addition to the compost for herbs. Sigh.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

Baizhu is largely defined by a sort of passive attitude, although it does have its limits. But for the most part, he's very tolerant and patient. Part of it is just a natural disposition, while it's also in part due to years of having dealt with a wide variety of people of varying, and often unpleasant, temperaments, in varying levels of discomfort, and thus not always pleasant to deal with.

This can be to your benefit, in terms of the fact that he's forgiving and somewhat lenient towards you. If you put on a sweet act or a pitiful apologetic act, in particular, after getting caught doing something you aren't supposed to be, it turns out to be a weak spot for him. He knows full well you're doing it intentionally, but in his own words, he just can't bring himself to be too upset when you have that look in your eyes.

While beneficial under most circumstances, his patience and slowness to anger can also be incredibly frustrating if you're the bitter type who tries to make him mad. He knows you're doing exactly that, and he knows that not giving you the reaction you want will infuriate you further, and to be honest, it's rather cute watching you get more and more upset. He can hold out for quite a while like that, as long as your behavior is not something harmful to anyone.

Be careful overusing or abusing his lenience, though, or pushing the boundaries. If you take it a step too far, do something one too many times, that patience meets its end. You can tell exactly when you've crossed that line by the look on his face, narrowed eyes and a stern, unamused expression. He speaks in a firmer tone than usual, and is far more blunt with his words.

That's enough, now. I've been very patient with you. Do not test me further.

The sudden shift and stark difference to his usual demeanor is enough to make you freeze up, and deters you on its own, far more than it would coming from someone who usually speaks in that sort of voice. Should you nonetheless, perhaps out of spite, continue your defiance, it goes a step further.

He's still not the sort of person to show anger very outwardly. Quite the opposite. You know you have truly, royally fucked up because he goes dead silent. Takes a deep breath in, heavy sigh out. Puts down the pen or closes a book or whatever else he's handling with a harsh sound, stands up without a word. You can feel a twisting in your stomach from the aura coming off of him, feel a sort of dreadful tension in the air. When he does finally speak, it's in that same cold, firm voice, as he latches a hand onto your arm and begins to pull you off into another room.

Alright, then. I see you don't intend to make this easy.

You can start to sputter out apologies at that point, but you're not going to get any further words out of him. After all, you've made it clear that words aren't enough to get through to you anyway.

How do they express affection, or attempt to endear themselves to you?

Baizhu is very fond of pet names. Dear. Darling. Love. Even if it embarrasses you, he doesn't really care. It takes a while to get used to, he throws those terms around so casually, it makes you flustered and feel all warm and you're not really sure how to react. But it just comes naturally to him, really, he wasn't initially intending for it to have any effect, although seeing that it does have an effect is quite amusing.

Otherwise, he likes to just spend time with you. The activity doesn't really matter, in fact, you don't even need to be doing the same thing together or anything. You can be doing your own thing while he does his, that's also fine. He just likes being in your vicinity.

Doing things together, though, is very nice. He's fond of doing mundane, routine things with you. Laundry, cooking, cleaning. Helping him restock by handing him jars while he puts them in their proper place, or vice versa. The little things, the things that don't require a great deal of thought or exchange of words, yet allow him to bask in your warmth and the bliss of simplicity in life with someone you love.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Baizhu is a fairly humble man. He's also objective, when it comes to such matters. Love you as he does, he still acknowledges your weaknesses and strengths.

Considering a person to be "greater" or "lesser" as a whole, he would argue, is in and of itself a concept that could only be born from a rather simple brain to begin with. Such a generalization fails to consider the complexity of the individual human existence. It is frankly impossible, or at least distasteful and lacking any respectable extent of intelligent thought, to take a single person — who has a unique skillset, physical and mental attributes, experiences, and a whole array of knowledge unique to that one individual — and condense all that complexity into one simple lump sum of "value", them do the same for another, and compare the two. The very notion itself is lacking intelligence, and only a person equally lacking intelligence and rationality, or perhaps simply a person of a neurotically grandiose nature, would try to claim one person is inherently of greater value.

But he can recognize those individual traits. If he's more intelligent than you are, he's very open to acknowledging it. If you're in better physical shape and health than he is, he'll readily admit it.

A person is what they are, they each have their strengths. If you ever get into the subject, he'll likely start philosophizing a bit about human nature — how tragic it is that so many humans obsess over those strengths that they are lacking, and in doing so allow the strengths they possess to go to waste. It is human nature to be discontent with oneself, perhaps—

Ah... am I boring you? Haha. No, no, it's quite alright.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He fully acknowledges before ever taking you to be with him, that doing so will be detrimental any hopes of mutual affection. That's part of the pros and cons he heavily weighs before going through with that. But alas, it's a necessary hurdle to face, part of the price of having you to himself.

For the short term, at least.

He's not unfamiliar with psychology to some extent, seeing as it and his own field are somewhat related. He's very well aware of the known effects that prolonged isolation and exclusion from the rest of society, as well as forced dependence, will have on a person.

So he's not too worried about it. Sure, you may be resentful now, but he can wait. As he always does. Patient, calculated. He knows eventually there will be a shift, and then a decline. First comes anger, then that will die down, then a period of quiet despond, and eventually, as the soundness of mind deteriorates, you will come back to him, feel the same fondness you did before. It's predictable, linear, like clockwork. The human mind and the human body are alike in that way, often following patterns that can be accurately predicted far before actually reaching that stage of progression. Just as he can heal various diseases and ailments by referencing existing knowledge of the body, so he can "fix" your mind and your sentiments by utilizing the knowledge of the mind.

If you start to become exceptionally discontent and disagreeable at any given time, he'll just go with the foolproof method that works every time — total isolation besides him, dark room, no stimulus, bound hand and foot or kept immobile by drugs. A few days of that and you usually crack. The cycle repeats, but he always knows just how to get you back to the way he prefers you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Firstly, as aforementioned, he's almost amusingly transparent. He explains a good deal of what he does to you and exactly why he's doing it, what affects it will have, etc. Most captors would probably keep quiet on exactly how they intend for their actions to induce a bond with you or force you into this or that, but not him.

You're smart, see. He knows you'll probably figure it out anyway. What's the point of withholding it then? Besides, he has a habit of thinking out loud sometimes, so it just comes natural to him to sort of mutter about what he's doing as he goes about his tasks. No point in refraining from that when there's no real reason to.

It's not as if you knowing what he's doing or what the intended effect is will make it any less effective. Maybe you'll develop a bit of spite and fight the effects, thus prolonging the procedure, but it will work all the same in the end anyway. If anything, seeing you resist is rather cute. But you'll succumb nonetheless, so, no need to be secretive.

Another obstacle he faces that others in a similar obsessive predicament do not is, well, himself. Baizhu is forced to take his own health and physical capacity into account to a degree most others never would have to give a passing thought to.

You'd think that his frailness might serve as an advantage to you — and you'd be right, sort of. It would serve as an advantage to you, were he to not account for it.

Unfortunately for you, he does account for it, and goes to great lengths — paranoid measures, even — to ensure you cannot take advantage of it. These chronic problems sometimes follow patterns and cycles, and usually have warning signs before becoming worse, so if he knows he's going to be in a weakened state, he gets much heavier on the restraints, and goes ahead with drugging you into immobility, even though you haven't done anything to deserve what is usually used as a punishment. It's also one of the few times he'll give you a very sincere apology. I know it's unpleasant, but I don't have much of a choice right now. You know it's serious from the lack of his usual warm whimsical voice of his, instead speaking in a very blunt voice laden with discomfort. You suppose you can summon a bit of pity, even if you're frustrated.

You also notice, though, that he's always insistent that he's fine and doesn't need help, even if that's blatantly untrue. The man will sound like he's coughing his lungs up for a minute straight and when you rush over with a concerned look on your face, he forces a chuckle and smiles and waves his hand dismissively. No, no, it's fine, really, that's a regular occurrence, it will die down in a minute or s— and breaks out coughing again.

He doesn't want you to see him in a state he feels looks pathetic. You figure that out eventually, given that he always stands up and goes into another room if the coughing fits get too bad, and how you can tell he's forcing himself to act as if he's not in discomfort or pain when he cares for you during his episodes of poorer condition.

It's something he's very stubborn about too. Usually he's so transparent, but even if you push him, tell him you're well aware he's not well or that you're fine and he should lay down, he continues to downplay it and insist it's not that bad. Just a bit of an ache, he says, or just a bit drowsy. He's relentless on this, no matter how much you push.

There's another unique factor to your captivity, but it doesn't have much to do with Baizhu himself.

See, there's plenty of captors or obsessed lovers you might end up with who have companions or accomplices you would meet, but no other quite so... slithery.

And few quite so cold, either. Changsheng, and the dynamic she takes in relation to the both of you, is a very odd experience.

Firstly, she is of no help to you. You weren't really sure what to expect from a literal talking snake, but you at least figured that if she possessed human thought capacity, she would perhaps possess a sense of empathy as well.

But she never brings up or even really acknowledges the circumstances of your situation. You tried once or twice, but she immediately shuts you down if the conversation is headed in that direction.

These sorts of interpersonal relationships are no business of mine. Know that I have no intention of interference.

While a bit disappointing, you did more or less know that even if she empathized, she wouldn't likely be of much help.

She still takes some getting used to. To be honest, she moves so quietly that for the first little while, she nearly gave you a heart attack on several occasions. You'll be going about some idle task, turn your gaze to look at or reach for something, only to come face-to-face with a snake in very close proximity.

AH! Oh, I, um...

What is the matter?

N-no, I just... uh...

You are at unease due to my presence?

No! No, I just didn't... see you there...

She has a bit of a sharp tongue and stern nature, and you initially do feel very uneasy, both out of not wanting to upset her as well as some primal instinct telling you that the creature that sits next to you is a dangerous one, even if your conscious mind knows better.

She does feel the need to comment on whatever you're doing, especially when trying to do tasks to help (or just to have something to do) by doing some work in the storerooms.

By what system of organization are you determining the order to place these jars in, hm?

You are not plotting anything nefarious back here by yourself, yes?

You there... these counters are slippery. I instruct you to place me on the surface over there.

At first, you feel bullied and bossed around... but over time you come to realize that despite the criticisms, she's intentionally seeking you out, whenever Baizhu is busy. In fact, whenever he goes off to a house call by himself or to take care of some task, it's usually only a matter of minutes before she shows up.

And truth be told, over time, you do bond. It's an unspoken sort of thing, something you think she might have started doing without consciously realizing she's doing it, but she begins... scaling you, climbing over and on you in the same way she does her contractual companion. The first time, you were reading over some piece of mail slid under the door when you felt a slight weight on your shoulder.

What is that? Oh, I see...

Gradually, it becomes an unspoken norm, a habit that neither of you really acknowledge out loud, but you understand it's a significant milestone in your relationship to each other, whatever that relationship may be defined as. You'll be standing around, working on whatever, when you feel the cold scales brush against your ankle... and now that cold sensation is spiraling up your leg, then your waist, and she positions herself around your shoulders just as she would Baizhu himself. Often commenting on or criticizing whatever you're doing, but sometimes just... relaxing there. She likes being on a person — humans are warm, and while she wouldn't admit it, she just sort of enjoys the company sometimes. If Baizhu is unavailable, you're the next best option. And sometimes, she's merely using you as a means of transportation, telling you to go somewhere else so she can get off, with you being able to get wherever it is faster, especially if it involves stairs.

Or sometimes, you'll be sitting down and she sees no reason to go around you to get where she's going, instead just slithering right over your lap without so much as a word, either to cross over you to get elsewhere, or to rest on you for a while. Then there was that time you were laying on the couch, trying your best to take a nap when you stiffened and nearly felt your heart stop for the umpteenth time when a cold sensation spread as she slithered her way underneath your shirt, curling up into a ball on your stomach.

It is cold outside and there is a draft. You will have to suffice for the moment.

And you also notice that, although it may feel harsh, oftentimes her criticisms and advice are genuinely helpful, either making a task significantly easier or preventing you from potentially hurting yourself in a specific process. You still can't quite let go of a bit of bitterness over her essentially being cooperative in your captivity, but you can't say you don't appreciate her.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

He's actually quite touchy from the start. It's one of the few things that sort of unsettles you and gives some sense of something being "off" even early on. You're pretty sure you don't know each other well enough for him to have just brushed his fingers over your arm, or to rest his hand on your shoulder, or to clasp your hand between his for a moment as he tells you he'll see to this or that that you've requested. The touches continue to grow more noticeable with time, and they're just so very perfectly lingering for a time that's long enough to be noticeable, but not long enough for you to feel like saying something is a warranted reaction. No, you'd be overreacting if you said anything, right? It's not that bad, it's only for a few seconds, so perfectly timed as if he's knowingly releasing his touch at the right second. Always right on the edge.

Even after that, once you're living with him, he's very casually touchy. He'll run his fingers back and forth over your side or back when you're sitting or lying next to each other, runs his fingers through your scalp, rest an arm over your side or shoulders.

His drive, on the other hand, depends entirely on his current physical condition. Whenever certain chronic problems are flaring up and his health takes a negative turn, as you can imagine, his sex drive also plummets, and he's in too much discomfort to do much movement anyway. Other times, with other problems flaring up, it's particularly frustrating because he does still have a sex drive, but is in too much discomfort to do much... there's some creative ways to work around that, but nonetheless, it's irksome.

He's not particularly reserved about sexuality at all, actually, under the right circumstances. Of course, if asked about his reasoning for this, he acknowledges and understands the cultural sensitivity to such things, and concurs with the topic being something you don't just randomly talk about; that is, he obviously has a firm grasp on what is and isn't appropriate in various settings and doesn't violate conventions of appropriateness. It's just that when it's alone with you, he can talk about the filthiest and most intimate of things without batting an eye or any sign of embarrassment. It's just a natural part of human life, isn't it? If anything, the act is one that should be viewed as beautiful. The poetic sort of people tend to describe it as an ultimate expression of affection between individuals, and if you ask him, that's something that should be treasured.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He views forcing that sort of thing as a behavior that's more or less beneath him. Barbaric, brutish, uncivilized... brute force, that is. Other measures, though, that's another matter. Things like drugs and coercion don't have quite the same vibe of brutality and inhumanity.

Regardless, though, the key factor is your experience. He's the type that can't really enjoy a sexual experience unless you're also clearly enjoying it... the catch being that you obtaining pleasures and enjoyment is not exactly the same thing as outright consent. As long as you cum, it counts as being mutually enjoyed.

He still doesn't really like the thought of having to be physically forceful though, that would make him feel brutish. He'll be sure to sedate you early on. If you're sluggish and barely moving, you can't really offer resistance in the first place... and you're more pliable to his hands, too.

And yes, he will use your pleasure against you, telling you that you clearly don't hate it all that much — just look at what you've done, he says, holding up the fingers coated in your own fluids, pressing them against your tongue, your jaw too weak to prevent him from sliding his fingers in. The mouth says one thing, the body another... but the mouth is capable of lying, the body really isn't, so it's better to trust that which he knows is being honest.

What is intimacy with them like? What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

He can't go too hard and fast... well, he sometimes does anyway, his efforts aided by adrenaline, which quickly catches up to him as soon as it's over. He's not particularly rough though, nor does he cause you pain. That's not to say he's entirely without a sadistic side — he does find himself enjoying seeing you in a state of humiliation and anticipation, he just prefers to use pleasures and intense, but not painful, sensations to do so.

Drugging

That is, of course, the one you likely anticipated the most. He's not at all shy about it. Even if you by chance had something consensual going on before being kept captive, he's very open about the desire to experiment on your body by triggering reactions to various substances.

There's a variety of different options to try, lots of combinations and records of the effects different traditional medicines have on the body. This one heightens blood flow and skin sensitivity, this one induced lactation... ah, but his personal preference is this one that gives you a buzzing, euphoric high, accompanied by a voracious appetite for pleasure and orgasms for the next hour or so. He gives you the full history of how ancients in this area used to use it for fertility ceremonial purposes back in the day, explaining it calmly while he ties your hands to the headboard, as you pant and whimper and gasp for breath underneath him. Quite nice, isn't it?

And if you're being less than compliant and agreeable, he can also go the route of sedation. Not entirely, no, he doesn't want you to be fully unconscious, nor forget any of it later. No, what he forces into your mouth makes you more... relaxed. You, after the fact and in an accusatory tone, use the word 'paralyzed,' but he insists that that's an overdramatization. Firstly, it's not the same medication he uses when he actually leaves you fully unable to move, and secondly, you can still sort of move your fingers and toes and head, your muscles are just relaxed and at ease, preventing movement of actual limbs. Your words slur, you feel dizzy and tired, yet you feel every little touch. And see, your abdominal muscles twitched when he runs his fingers over your stomach, so you still have some muscular control... Not to mention, he can still feel your insides spasming and clenching when he curls his fingers inside of you, too.

Oh, and even in general, he makes sure you take a daily dose of tea made from some cocktail of bitter herbs he put together. You're told it's a blend that boosts your metabolism and brain activity and blood circulation, so on and so on, basically like a multi-purpose medicine for overall health. Which is true, it does do all of those things. It just so happens that all of those things also are known to increase sex drive, not to mention a few of them boost hormone production. But that's just a side effect, of course.

Orgasm control

Baizhu has a very specific long-term goal in mind to train you for: getting you to cum on command. It's a fantasy he's entertained in his head quite a few times. No reason to not try to make it a reality, now that he has you here with him. The concept itself is fascinating, the idea that a largely involuntary bodily reaction can be gradually, perfectly conditioned to align with someone else's words. It's such an ultimate power trip and absolute control, the thought is intoxicating.

And of course, being as patient and dedicated as this man has already proven himself to be, you know there's no getting out of it. Hours upon hours of edging, being told not to cum because you can't without his explicitly telling you to. If you do, he pulls his hand away, ruining the orgasm itself, leaving you to whimper and whine, that much more so if, after a few failed attempts, he ends up applying an additional corporeal punishment to try and further the negative association with cumming too soon. If you're good and endure, cum when he tells you to, you'll be likewise rewarded in some way.

Over and over. It goes on for weeks, months, that you have these training sessions, until it's perfected. You yourself are almost shocked by the progress, to realize just how much your body and your subconscious has submitted — it's on one of his better health days, he has the energy and lack of any aches to be able to take you on your hands and knees from behind, and it does feel good, but you're not that close — and yet, when he pulls your upper half up, forces your back into an arch, puts his hand on your throat and tilts his head down to speak directly in your ear and tells you to in the lowest, huskiest voice you've ever heard him speak in to cum for me — and you spasm, it hits you like a punch to the gut with the way the high rushes over your body. It leaves you sputtering and shivering as you collapse onto the bed, wide-eyed in shock. Even he seems a bit surprised too, chuckling as he sees the stunned expression on your face.

Oh, that worked better than even I anticipated...

He can also use orgasms as a form of withdrawal and coercion punishments. Primarily at the times that you're immobilized. You'll begin to grow needy after a time, and that makes you far more compliant. He keeps track of how long it's been since you last got to cum, and makes sure to remind you, just so you know how long you've been missing it, and so you'll be that much more quick to crack under the desperation of need.

Instruction/Obedience

Sometimes, once you've reached a state where he's assured you'll be fairly compliant with him, he gets surprisingly passive when he comes to you for intimacy.

Physically passive, at least. Motions you over with a finger gesture, starts giving you instructions. His voice is always so charming and gentle that it's hard to call it a command, per se, but it's telling you what to do nonetheless. To take this or that off, to straddle his waist, kiss him, put it in your mouth, ride him, touch yourself, on and on as he walks you through each little motion he craves to watch with his own eyes. It gets more specific and lewd with each instruction, starting off with just take your clothes off and eventually progressing to telling you exactly how to touch yourself, rub in circles, curl your fingers, lower yourself down and take him in, roll your hips, bounce on his cock, look him in the eye when you cum, every little thing.

...Eventually, you figure out that he does this on the days where he's not feeling well enough to do the moving himself, yet is still in good enough condition that he still has a sex drive. What a clever adaptation.

Exposure

It's not something he uses often, seeing as there are other people than just the two of you in his residence, but it can make a suitable punishment whenever you're confined to one room, or when everyone else is out. There's something just endearing about seeing you all embarrassed and flustered after being forced into nudity, the way you try desperately to cover yourself with your arms, the way you get all pouty in your humiliation and refuse to look him in the eye as you demand your clothes back.

But this is your choice, he reminds you. If only you would be a bit more cooperative, that wouldn't have to be the case, but that's entirely up to you. Until then, if you want to get out of bed for any reason, you'll just have to walk around as you are. And no, he's not going anywhere. Why would he leave when he has such a nice view? He smiles when you puff your cheeks out and curl your hands into fists out of embarrassed fury. Eventually, you do have to give in, get up and go do whatever it is you need to — and you feel his eyes on you the whole time as you do. When you glare in his direction, he just tilts his head. Oh? Is something the matter?

Such a shameless pervert, you think to yourself. What's worse, you know if you say something, he'll pull some cheesy line about 'examining' you or another. Ugh.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

He'd be a bit worried about having any biological children. One one hand, there's a lot to be gained by having something tying you to him on such a deeply emotional level, that would likely cement you in place by making running away that much harder, and suppress your will to leave to begin with, or even accelerate your attachment to him.

At the same time, he has to be realistic. Is he really in any position to be caring for children, a task requiring great stamina? There's also the possibility you could turn children against him, or something like that. And if you were to encounter some sort of gestational health problem and require medical attention, there's no telling whether or not you'd be so stubborn as to to refuse to comply out of fear he'd drug you or something, which could pose very real risks to your well-being if he couldn't get you to work with him. So as nice as the notion seems when pictured in the ideal, there's just too many risks and complications that could take place.

But, there's a solution. One that will easily provide the same psychological attachment, and thereby allow a subtle degree of manipulation.

Once he can be sure you wouldn't try to harm her or anything, he deliberately ensures you and Qiqi spend time with each other. Initially, he tells you to watch over her while she goes about her tasks, help her out a bit. She can be forgetful, you know. Regardless of your sentiment, you can't bring yourself to be cold or rude to what is ultimately, despite the circumstances, still a relatively normal little girl.

Although he does, before leaving you two alone, make sure to give you a very firm warning. Well, the words themselves aren't a a threat, but there's an edge to his tone, when he responds to you raising your eyebrows and asking if he's really allowing this.

It's quite alright. I trust you surely wouldn't try to get a child involved in anything you shouldn't.

The words admittedly do have a bite to them. Would it really be a moral wrong, for you to try and enlist her for help...? It's not like he would ever harm her, but still, you question the sort of psychological damage you'd be risking. There's an inherent feeling of wrongness when you think about putting the kid under a situation that, if you succeeded in getting her to help you, would result in a great deal of distress and confusion and even long-term psychological damage from what would ensue. And when you think about it even further, you realize with a twisting feeling in your gut that if you escaped your captor and got him locked up... what would happen to her...? It's an unpleasant thought, even if you tell yourself you'd make sure she was cared for.

Nonetheless, eventually, on one of your worst and most bitter and resentful days, in a moment of desperation, you do finally crack. It will be fine, you tell yourself. You're doing something good overall. Someone like that shouldn't be responsible for a kid in the first place, right? So if you just get her to run by the law enforcement when she's out herb-gathering...

Listen, I, uh, I need you to do something for me, okay?

Mm...? Okay...

You wait patiently as the hours pass, hoping you look like less of a nervous wreck than you are, hoping you're not actually as jittery as you feel, a whole swarm of emotions of dread and hope and anticipation swirling in your gut. You practically pounce on the poor girl when she comes back through the doors.

Did... did they say anything? Are they coming?

You're met with a blank stare, a long pause.

Uh... who...? Was I supposed to... do something...?

You're pretty sure you gave up either the third or fourth time that happened. Can't really remember which. You start to realize that the reason he seemed so unbothered by the thought of leaving you alone with her wasn't so much his trust in you as much as it was complete assurance there was never any real risk anyway. Sigh.

But you don't hold it against her. You continue watching over her and taking care of her when you can. And the most frustrating part is that you know exactly what the intent is, and yet, you also know it's working.

You find yourself caring more and more about the girl. There was that time she stumbled and fell flat on her face and before you even really processed what you were doing, you'd already rushed over across the room to get her back up. Hey, hey, are you okay...? Or the time everyone else had stepped away for a moment due to some issue or another, leaving the front of the pharmacy unmanned for just a few moments — just enough time to find some big, disgruntled-looking guy looming over the child (who admittedly didn't seem intimidated or anything, just the usual blank stare), going on about some complaint he must have found no one else present to give to, and once more, without really thinking, you found yourself rushing over, picking her up and pulling her away, holding her to your side as if to shield her, finding yourself growing immediately defensive, glaring back. The hell is wrong with you? The owner will be back in just a minute, you'll have to wait. You find yourself a bit surprised at your own sharpness of tongue.

You feel this caring, protective swell in your chest regrading her. You're not so headstrong as to deny to yourself the truth, that you know you've developed emotional attachment towards and even some maternal instinct for the child. That admittedly, you wouldn't want to leave her, and that you'd worry how she'd fare by herself without you, even if you know she was doing fine before you. And most upsettingly, you know that that was exactly what the plan was.

Maybe if it had been one-sided, then, at least you could have shaken the feeling off, but that's not the case either. You make a habit of taking some time to yourself in a specific room every day, a time in the late afternoon when there's always a rush of people coming in, leaving Baizhu himself quite busy, so you get some time to sit and read or whatever task you set yourself to. A routine quickly develops — there's a set of pattering footsteps in the hall, she pokes her head around the door to check if you're there, and quietly shuffles in and sits next to you. Silent, but present. She doesn't say or do anything, she just sits.

Not that that's the only habit that develops. It's one of those situations that progresses subtly yet quickly, so you don't really remember when each starts. You just become aware one day that each little routine or habit has been going on for some time now. That when you walk around the back of the pharmacy going about your day, there's often a little hand clinging to your skirts or pant legs, quietly walking alongside you while latching on. That when you make yourself something to snack on, you get out two plates or bowls and make two helpings of whatever it is without really thinking about it.

She doesn't usually have a lot to say, but it's always pleasant, she's not quite like the stereotypical hyperactive kid, no, she lets you do whatever you're doing and doesn't interrupt much, just seems to want to be around you.

You allow it, of course. You don't have the heart not to, even though you know you shouldn't, that you shouldn't allow the closeness and should push her away because you know it will inevitably lead to exactly what he wants.

You can still pinpoint the exact moment, though, that you knew it was already too late. Sitting there doing some idle task or another in silence when you feel weight leaning over against your side, head resting on your arm, and that soft, monotone voice.

I like having you here.

Dammit. You could physically feel that tug on your heart. If that wasn't the final nail in the coffin, nothing else could top the emotion that gave you. You resign yourself to finally acknowledging that you've already fallen for the scheme.

...Not that she's just an advantageous tool. The flip side disadvantage is that she's also a bit of a liability. He's given her the 'if you tell anyone about her, she'll have to go away forever' talk several times over, and the poor girl always widens her tired eyes and seems very distressed at that notion, but her memory is not exactly known for being that great. There was that time some law enforcement came by to ask about you, saying something about how someone claimed to have seen a young woman in this courtyard area on the night of the disappearance. When your name is spoken, the girl's eyes widen, her lips part and she's just started to raise her arm up to point to the back room and say the words 'oh, I kn—' when she's interrupted by being picked up, hand clamped over her mouth and carried out of the room—

Ah, why don't you go run along—

And unceremoniously set in the hall, the door shut behind.

...Not good for a child to hear something fearful like a disappearance, that's all. Could give her nightmares or something. Surely they understand that...?

Thankfully, the present officials do, just nodding and continuing on, seemingly not taking that as reason to suspect anything. Poor Baizhu, it's one of the few moments he actually nearly lost composure, slumping back into a chair with a heavy sigh of relief as soon as they leave. That surely did not do his heart palpitation issue any favors...

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

One of the most unbearable things is the wait and the dread. It's never immediate. He always says something to the effect of ah, I need some time to think about how to handle this..., which you come to realize is just intentionally dragging out your fearful anticipation. To say he has somewhat of a sadistic side would be a fairly accurate statement, he doesn't really want to cause you physical pain, but he does find himself enjoying watching you squirm and shudder and stiffen, consumed with anticipation, dread and fear, as well as reactions of humiliation and embarrassment. He tries to refrain to some extent, but finds himself indulging in invoking those reactions from you more often than he'd like to admit for the sake of his own perception of his self-control.

It's not particularly painful, though, so you can be grateful for that... although there is a sort of dull ache after a while. Getting the drugs into your system is the only difficult part, as you squirm too much to safely inject you, but refuse to open your mouth, so compliance is a bit of a challenge, forcing him to find some means of holding you still. From there, your body sort of does the punishing for you. It's unlike anything you've ever felt — an unbearable sensation of heat, so intense it leaves sweat rolling down your skin, leaves you panting and shivering and gasping for breath, limbs twitching as they desperately pull against the binds keeping your ankles and wrists taut against the bedposts.

He wouldn't leave you to suffer that alone, of course. Well, maybe for a short while, half an hour or so, to heighten the desperation, but after that, he's right there to help you, affectionately running his hand over the top of your head and speaking to you in a soft voice, all far too gentle to be one and the same as the person responsible for your present state of misery.

What do you need? Tell me how to help you.

You're not compliant at first, of course. You shake your head and clench your jaw and refuse to just make this so much easier on you both. It takes a little while. A little more urging and comforting, running his fingers over your thighs and sides and all the parts of your flesh just sensitive enough to earn a shudder, before you start to melt into his touch, and eventually give in, tell him what you want.

There we go. That wasn't so difficult, was it?

Not that the torment ends there, of course. Just giving in to tell him isn't enough.

But you haven't been entirely... appreciative, have you? If I do this for you, it pains me to think it will only go unrecognized like everything else I do for you. If you ask with sincerity, maybe...

Once you've swallowed your pride entirely, then, you can get some semblance of relief. Although that itself becomes torturous with time. The intensity doesn't die down, the unbearable urge is still there, yet each successive orgasm begins to become painful, each erogenous spot on your body becomes sore and hypersensitive to the touch. You loathe to admit you end up in tears by the end of it. No worry, though, he's right there to comfort you through it... and ensure you this doesn't have to happen, but you continue to choose it time and time again.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Curvature. It's not really any one specific spot, per se, but he would say it counts. The degree of it doesn't really matter, whether it's slight or pronounced. He likes the way his hands feel running over curved areas like your hips and waist, thighs, shoulders. It's something he can appreciate even when his eyes are closed, late at night, just slowly running his hands over the spots and feeling the bends and dips. There's also, of course, the fact that it provides a nice sort of grip, a spot he can lock his arms or hands around and know you won't be able to pull away easily.

#qqi simultaneously being bzhu's greatest tool but also riskiest liability is amusing to me #yandere genshin impact #baizhu x reader

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opencommunion · 5 months

Text

July 2014

Gaza-based writer Hedaya Shamun writes — although her writing rituals have disappeared — about the world she sees around her in the first and second nights of “Operation Protective Edge.”

"You all slaughtered Gaza, you all reaped from her heart and you shut your doors and ears in her face. You saw that she is a black spot on your beautiful lives and she has become a burden on your hearts and wellbeing. Before the aggression all of you contributed to her disappointment and you perceived the nourishment of the small children as begging. You said what had not been said about her, but every time she would remind you that she is greater than calling you out on your sins. For who among us is sinless, O gentlemen? But she is a rose whose delightful fragrance wafted with the sea of blood that restored your senses and your love and perhaps your hatred. Some have expressed this hatred and some retreated and some turned a blind eye and some unsheathed their strength to extract her nectar with the hissing of the Israeli warplanes.

... How will we return to life its splendor after the bodies of the young are stolen? He carries his body in his hands and needs no coffin. His hands have become a coffin for his child shrouded in white cloth. He walks with his head high and his tears flowing. But he is lucky that he is still alive to pay his child the last honors. Entire families were buried in their homes and no one remained to pay them these last honors. It is so simple. In this civilized world of international rights and conventions and the right to life and the right to housing and the right to education and the right of expression, these rights are not for Palestinians but for someone else…

Who really cares about women running in prayer clothes, the ones at hand when they escaped from the black hatred descending upon them from the top of a rocket shattering her dreams and making them a morsel appropriate for suffering and oppression and pain. She carries a child; she carries a bloody heart; she carries pain. She forgets an elderly person and she forgets her own heart in the corner of the house. She is afraid to look back so that she does not see her loved ones imbued with their blood. She runs and keeps running without end because if she stops she will never run again.

There are no spaces for life. No place to return. All of Gaza bids farewell to herself every night and congratulates those who remain alive the morning of another day. They inspect their bodies then run their hands over the living. They close their eyes then open them, and once again call the members of their families one by one…so that the memory of their names does not fail and their spirits do not disappear. Who cries for whom? The unlucky are left alone to survive without a family as it was martyred in its entirety.

... A bloody night in Rafah. The shelling has not stopped nor did it go silent. I write a word and I am delirious with words. Where do we live? And why this abominable silence towards our death? Is our death that cheap? Do our lives mean anything to anyone? Is it enough that you cry, shed tears, and that a choking in the heart come upon you? You are the hope to scream loudly against Israeli murder and terrorism. You are the hope to translate the sufferings of these people and their lives that disappeared in a push of a button by a pilot playing frivolously in his warplane like a spoiled child does with an expensive toy. He kills, destroys, and takes revenge on the children of Palestine.

A bloody night. This is my account of just one night. Would you bear another night?"

#palestine

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audreyscribes · 1 month

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Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS: 🔮 HECATE: Goddess of Magic, the Mist, Crossroads, Necromancy, the night and moon🌙

Author's note: Hello everyone! In lieu of posting the major gods demigod headcanons, here is the minor gods version!As usual these headcanons will contain what it's like being claimed and what it's like for the respective god and cabin, followed by a small story between you, the reader, and the respective demigod of that god. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! [PJO MINOR GODS DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST] Disclaimer: To new fans or strictly TV watchers of the PJO series, future spoilers for the entire PJO series books will be referenced. Read at your own risk.

Out of the ‘minor’ gods, a child of Hecate is powerful and just as dangerous as a child of the major gods. As powerful as a child of Ares, Athena, and Apollo, but closer to a child of the Big Three.

When you get claimed, a rolling mist rolls in and you feel power sparkling at your fingertips. You always have felt the magical power within you but with this claim, it courses through your veins. The spell you cast at your claim is a tell-tale to your half-siblings what kind of magic wielder you are. One time, there was a child of Hecate who summoned the dead beneath their feet and everyone had a meltdown thinking it was another child of Hades until Chiron pointed out the claim symbol belonged to Hecate, and Necromancy is within her domain. Which can be utterly terrifying or cool. Just don’t actually mess with Death itself and stay in your lane, unless you want either Hades or Thanatos having a word with you; either or both. Nico di Angelo becomes a common sight around the Hecate cabin as he acts as a sort of liaison for his father’s domain.

Hecate’s domain is very broad and large, and you guys have a lot to figure out. Aside from magic, every child of Hecate has a mixed bag of what powers they inherited from Hecate’s domain. Some have others that others don’t. You have shared headaches with the children of Hermes, who are in a similar boat.

As cheesy as it might sound, your power is stronger at night and when the moon is out. Of course a full moon is when you’re at peak strength, but what people don’t know is that your powers can be at peak strength depending on the phases of the moon. This is determined by finding out what phase of the moon the day you were born on, and the phases leading up to that face you feel stronger but the phases afterwards feel less intense for you. If you were born on a full (and/or old) moon, well, more power to you. Literally.

While not all common, there’s a high percentage of children of Hecate being born in the evenings and night.

“With great power there must also come great responsibility” - Spiderman, Stan Lee. These words are similar to the Sword of Damocles, that Mr. D and Chiron tells you and the Hecate cabin that power cannot simply be enjoyed for its privileges alone, but necessarily makes its holders morally responsible for what they choose to do and what they fail to do with it. As a child of Hecate, with magic at your disposal, you have to work and study hard to control the magic and command it to your will, however it is a heavy burden to bear and magic can be not only bring miracles, but can take on a form of its own if their wielder isn’t convicted enough.

Along with magic, the mist is your next inherent power. You help maintain the mist between the world of the gods and the mortal realm; maintaining the balance. The power of the mist comes naturally to you and you can use it to create illusions or manipulate the veil over mortal eyes. However, be careful of it because if you mess with the mist too much, you might pull the mist’s veil over a mortal’s eyes too powerfully and affect their mind, distorting it; it’s cautioned to only manipulate the mist that is still tethered to reality. Worse, you also might get lost in it yourself; or worse find yourself between the borders between the living and the dead. Limbo if you will.

Hecate may seem a bit cold and solitary, but she does care for you. Especially after the 2nd Titan War, where many of your unclaimed (read: unrecognized by the camp) half siblings had perished during the war. You might get the occasional words of advice with magic, magical items, or what your siblings have collectively understood as vague magic teaching moments. You definitely feel her guiding hand when you command more magic that threatens to lash out at you, and you feel her hands guide you to mould the magic in a way you want like a potter’s hand. At least one thing is for sure, Hecate loves all her children equally…even including Lamia and Circe who are pretty hostile to you guys.

On that note, you have definitely performed a magic spell you’ve seen on TV, Book, Movie, or Game, and proceeded to tear it apart on how it should not have worked and how it should work before creating either an entirely new spell or an even better one. At the very least, you have a laugh and lead you into discovering and creating new spells.

You can use magic with your hands, but you could also use a wand or staff, or what have you. With wands though, it has never been easier walking around among mortals and spell-casting magic, and playing it off from certain franchises or being a very dedicated DnD player. The latter is very true and you have no shortage of LARPers.

You know the roles like “The Fairy Godmother”, “The Wicked Witch”, “The Wizard”, and etc? Oh yeah. Every child of Hecate starts to come into one of these roles and leans into it completely. What is yours?

You and your siblings have an awkward relationship with Lamia, who was a former daughter of Hecate, who became a monster, and is the reason why all monsters can find half-bloods. Sure it was out of spite at Hera for killing all of Lamia’s children, but like….really? You’re not entirely sure if you guys are safe from Lamia’s curse but on the other hand, given the amount of monsters you’ve encountered and the latest news from one of your half-siblings, Alabaster who was hunted down by Lamia from Gaea, it’s really up in the air. There’s a long research by all the Hecate cabin on how to break this curse or at least mitigate it.

When you get claimed, you feel the veins in your body growing both hot and cold, with power sparking wildly from your fingertips. The small well of bubbling power that had always been in you suddenly burst open and was overflowing, like the seal on it had been ripped off. Wind was kicking around you with the ground trembling and cracking under your power. You could see the mist rolling in and twisting around you with the wind, cutting you off from the outside world.

With what you could see outside it was utter chaos. People were running around doing damage control with a few brave, offensive demigods taking the front as they knocked away any flying debris and were keeping your magic from breaching the red zone as they batten down the hatches.

You weren’t sure what to do with this power but you couldn’t just turn the tap off either, you had to release it somehow. But just shooting raw magical power wasn’t desirable since the magic could take on the form of the cognitive power of those around you, whatever that was.

You tried to remember a spell you were familiar with. Something that was familiar to you that was almost as easy as breathing. You remembered it but the power of the magic within you was too much. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, the extension part of you had to move how you want like you were discovering growth pains, your limbs feeling almost feeling foreign to you. You tried to squeeze the magic into form but it pushed back between the gaps of your fingers like you took too much clay.

You started to breathe heavily as sweat clung and soaked your being, the strain becoming unbearable. Then you heard yelling as you felt something open beside you. Then you felt someone press up against you, hands grabbing yours that was also flowing with magic.

You gasped and looked at the person, seeing a girl with dark hair and with glowing green eyes.

“What-” you tried to say to say how and why she was here and that she shouldn’t be, but then before you could see anything more, she gripped your hands harder and you felt her magic flowing into yours, as if smoothing the gaps, helping you grasp your raging power.

“Do you know a spell?!” she yelled over the raging, howling wind.

You stammered to reply but nodded instead as she nodded back. “Alright! Use that spell! I’ll help you enforce it!”

You were confused but you could feel the magic about to explode soon so you pushed everything aside and focused on what was at hand. You remembered that spell from earlier, taking deep shaky breaths as you tried to manipulate the magic into a form. You could feel it oozing from the gaps of your fingers again but with the girl’s help, she smoothed it and followed your hands, shaping it with you.

You took form and you threw it in the air as the energy took on a form, taking the wind and mist with it. All tension in your body left you and disappeared with the spell , making you collapse immediately. You were out of breath and out of focus so you weren’t really paying attention to what was happening. All you heard was a boom, sprinkles, oohs and ahhs with gasps and peals of laughter.

From your starfished position on the ground, you heard feet crunching on the ground beside you and you peaked to see see the girl from earlier, hands on her hips with an exasperated smile on her face with a thin sheen of sweat; even she looked a bit winded.

“So that’s what kind of magic wielder you are” she commented, crouching beside you.

“What?” you tiredly said, confused.

She gestured to the air, “This kind of situation isn’t unusual for children of Hecate, even if yours is a little bit on the extreme side. Every child of Hecate that gets claimed has a spell that they have to unleash and we figured out the first spell they instinctively use is a good indicator what kind of magic wielder and person they are.”

“Oh” you uttered dumbly as you took in the open sky above you. The adrenaline was just dying down and your mind caught up. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you sat up and looked at the girl. “Wait, how do you know this?”

The girl grinned and stood up, holding her hand out to you as you clasped it. “My name is Lou Ellen Blackstone, daughter, head coven, and cabin leader of the Hecate cabin” she introduced herself as she helped you up.

“Oh…wait, does that mean-” you asked as Lou Ellen nodded.

“Yup, you just got claimed by Hecate which makes us half-siblings” she said as she patted your shoulder and helped you steady yourself as you headed towards the Apollo kids, “Let’s get you checked up just in case. Suddenly being able to have that much access to your magic takes a whole lot of you.”

“So this isn’t new?” you asked as a child of Apollo checked you over.

“Nah. While some children of Hecate can access their magic before they get claimed, when Hecate claims you, it suddenly feels like the cap on our magic is removed. Don’t worry too much about it, with some practice and integrity, you’ll get a hold of your magic soon enough. In the meantime, you have the entire Hecate cabin to help you.”

You smiled at the thought as you felt yourself drifting off to sleep due to the exhaustion.

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gt-jar · 2 months

Text

Of Changing Seasons And New Beginnings

Part 1

Raul wrapped his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he made his way to the market. The warm summer days were over now and it was rapidly getting colder. The freezing north winds, sweeping across the land, certainly weren't helping, even he was starting to feel the cold deep inside his bones. Or maybe he was just getting old.

He checked his list again to make sure he didn't forget anything, when suddenly a particularly strong gust of wind blew the piece of paper out of his hand. Raul watched his list swirl in the air, making a few loops, before it slowly floated to the ground. As he bent down to pick it up, the wind carried away some fallen leaves, revealing what was hidden underneath them.

There on the ground laid a little humanoid figure.

Face down.

Unmoving.

Raul hastily kneeled down to get a closer look. That's when he saw the dried blood. The back of the shirt the figure was wearing was practically drenched in it.

A fairy then.

A wingless fairy.

Poor thing.

His hands hovered over the unconscious fairy, scared of making things worse, a cruel voice inside his head whispered that it might be already too late to make things worse, but the urge to help was stronger. Hesitantly, he reached out and nudged his fingers under the petite body. The fairy was completely limp in his hands and ice-cold to the touch, their clothes being torn and nowhere near being suitable for the colder seasons, Raul only noticed then that they weren't even shivering anymore.

With a sinking heart he had to bear in mind that there was a high chance he was holding a corpse right now.

Carefully, he shifted his hold on the lifeless figure, making sure not to touch the wound on their back, so he could get a better look at their face. His heart sunk a little deeper as he took in the fairy's slack face.

The fairy wasn't just tiny.

This was a child.

A young boy, so young that he could possibly still have some baby fat left on his cheeks, if he wasn't so malnourished. Raul placed a finger under the child's nose, anxiously waiting for a sign of life, relief washed over him as a tiny puff of warm air hit his finger.

So it wasn't too late yet.

But there was no time for joy. Who knew how much time the fairy had left. It was a miracle the little one was still alive.

He needed to act quickly, or else this far too young life was going to slip right through his fingers.

As fast as he dared to move with something so fragile, he stood up, tucked the child under his cloak, and rushed back home, his shopping list laying forgotten on the forest ground.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Raul finally reached his cabin, he debated his next move.

The little fairy was still unconscious. The frail life he was holding felt indescribably heavy in his hand, not heavy in the sense of the fairy's actual body weight, but more like in the “carrying a heavy burden on your shoulders” kind of way.

For the very first time he felt self-conscious about his size. Being an ogre came with a naturally larger build, something that never bothered him before, and had more perks than downs. But now he wished he was a little more delicate, or at least his hands. Handling something so small felt wrong on its own, and right now the little fairy was at his most vulnerable. Someone like him shouldn't be in charge of such a fragile soul.

And yet, even though he was probably the last one who should be trusted with this, he was also the child's only chance of survival right now. Ultimately, his help was probably better than no help at all.

The only thing he could do is treat the wound and hope for the best.

So he took the folded blanket on his sofa and placed it on the table, then carefully laid the fairy on top of it, and began to gather a few things. He took the largest bowl he had and filled it with lukewarm water, lastly he added a variety of herbs that were used in disinfecting ointments and had a calming effect.

Now came the hard part.

Raul needed better access to the wound, if he wanted to treat it properly, which meant getting rid of the shirt. He hated that he needed to destroy it, mostly because he had no idea where to get a new one, but he didn't even dare to try taking it off the proper way, too afraid of accidentally hurting the child. So cutting it open was his only other option.

He grabbed a pair of scissors and slowly cut the shirt open, making sure not to gaze the sensitive skin underneath. The boy let out a soft cry as Raul peeled the fabric off, the dried blood making the fabric stick to the skin.

Finally Raul got a good look at the damage and to say the wound looked bad was an understatement. The fairy's wings had been ripped out, leaving two deep, gaping slits behind, at least deep for someone at this size. As he had assumed already, based on the dried blood, the wound wasn't fresh. To make things worse, it was already infected. The skin around the injured area was irritated and bright red. Raul was sure that as soon the child was warmed up he would have a fever to deal with as well.

But first things first.

Taking a deep breath, Raul picked up his small patient once more. Now draped over his hand, stomach down and arms dangling over the edge of his palm, the man lowered the little one in the waiting water. First, he gently washed off all the grime, rubbing soft circles on the sensitive skin, noticing that the tense muscles relaxed slightly. The process continued for a few minutes, even after all the dirt was washed off, now more for the sake of providing some much needed comfort.

Just when he scooped up some water to wash the hair, the child started to stir. Raul waited with bated breath, if the fairy was actually going to wake up. The little one's face scrunched up and a moment later dark purple eyes fluttered open. His arms and legs began to move weakly, as if trying to get up, though the sluggish movement stopped rather quickly. The fairy was obviously too weak and disoriented to get a good grip on the wet surface he was half-laying on. Defeated, the fairy slumped down, making a frustrated whimper.

Raul softly shushed him, "It's okay, little one. Just close your eyes again. It's alright."

The fairy, who only seemed to notice him now, turned his head in his direction, that small movement probably requiring all his strength, and looked up at him. Or not really. His eyes were bleary and unfocused. Not truly looking at him. Most likely not even understanding what was going on.

Utterly helpless.

He would never understand how some people could look at someone so innocent, and then proceed to strip them of their most valuable possessions. Not only taking their wings, but their freedom as well. Fairy wings were sold for immensely high prices, whoever managed to get their hands on even one single wing could make a small fortune. They didn't care that most fairies succumbed to their severe injuries. And those few who were to make a full recovery, forever lost their ability to fly and were robbed from a part of their freedom for the rest of their lives.

And, as cruel as this was, there was nothing he could do about it. As long as someone was willing to pay, fairies were going to be hunted down for their precious wings.

But maybe this one right here might have a second chance at life, if fate decided to be kind. And Raul would be damned, if he didn't give his best to help.

Even though the fairy probably didn't comprehend what he was saying, he still closed his eyes and let his head fall down again. Completely exhausted from straining his body for just a short span of time.

“That's it. I promise you're in good hands now,” Raul whispered quietly.

He then proceeded to pour water over the boy's head, wetting his hair. He was extra careful while washing the hair, even taking the extra time to gently massage his scalp. Several rinses later the brownish color faded away and a pearly off-white color came to light.

When Raul deemed the child clean enough, he put the boy back on the blanket and lightly dabbed him dry. Then he took a bowl with fresh water and a clean piece of cloth, and started to clean the wound. The fairy let out pained whimpers every so often and his hands balled into tiny fists. The scene broke Raul's heart.

"I know, little one, it's almost over."

After that was taken care of, he covered the wound with a special ointment, that should dull the pain a little bit, and bandaged it. Satisfied with his work, he stepped back.

Finally, the worst part was over. Now there was only one thing left to do.

He stepped out of the room, a moment later coming back with what he had been looking for. He placed the blanket with the fairy on top inside an old basket, folding over one of the corners and using it to cover the sleeping child, tenderly tucking the blanket around his shoulder. Just tight enough to keep the little one warm, but not too tight to avoid putting too much pressure on the newly dressed wound. At last he placed the basket nearby his fireplace and lit the flame.

Now all he could do was wait.

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #parental g/t #my-writing-jar #OC: Raul #OC: Elliot #that name might change

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i-cast-bardic-inspiration · 5 months

Note

Halsin with a Tav who had a toddler? Like they get back to Baldurs gate or theyve been nursing an egg(for the Gith and Dragonborn Tavs) that’s now hatching.

Pls let him be the dad he’s always wanted to be 🥹

Okay, first off thanks for sending in your request! I hope it’s alright to do this in a mix of headcanons and narrative blurbs because I have too many ideas for this wholesome content. Also, if I interpreted your Ask wrong please let me know and I’ll amend!

But alright, here we go—let’s give our Big Bear some love and let him be Daddy Halsin because he deserves all the best things.

*TW: Pregnancy talk, mentions of past trauma, wholesomeness so wholesome it hurts

Halsin will be in shock for a brief moment before going into Daddy Halsin mode. This man has just gone through the most traumatic hundreds of years; in pure survival mode after losing his family, being held prisoner in the Underdark, dealing with the Shadow Curse and all that it has brought upon him—he never once during that time was afforded the opportunity to simply…live. He always focused on doing what was necessary to survive. So now that he finally can let some of his walls down? Now that his lover just told him they have a child?

He looks at you frozen in disbelief…he never thought he would be able to have his own family. And now you’ve given him one of life’s greatest joys in the mere blink of an eye. His whole world has turned on its axis in the best of ways and he needs a moment to find his feet on the ground again.

Whether it’s biologically yours or you’ve adopted, it doesn’t matter—he views it all the same. He is in awe, deep gratitude bursting forth for this bounty of nature you’ve provided him with; that you’ve invited him to share.

“My heart…you,” Halsin’s voice breaks, “Why did you not tell me before?” the question falls past his lips with a tremble, but there is no trace of anger or hurt in his tone. Only awe, tinged with a soft skepticism as though this moment will slip through his fingers and he will wake to find it was all a dream.

You tell him why. Maybe it’s because you were scared he wouldn’t want anything to do with you or your child…maybe you didn’t want to distract him from all that still needed to be accomplished…maybe you didn’t want to add another burden to his already heavily-weighed-down shoulders—whatever it is…

He understands your fears but tells you to put them to rest because nothing—absolutely nothing—could ever deter him from loving and caring for you and your child. He is more than willing to step into the role of a father…if that is what you should wish of course, to share this part of your life with him…

As soon as you give him the affirmative, he is all over you. Wrapping you up in his strong embrace, placing kisses wherever his lips can reach before settling his face against your neck and inhaling deeply. Your scent calms him, and he needs it to ground himself after the revelation that he finally—finally—has the one thing he thought he’d never have again…a family. He is a dad.

He’s a dad!

His deep laughter echoes through the air. He’s overjoyed, a little scared maybe too, but his unbridled joy is contagious and you find yourself tearfully laughing along with him.

With your invitation, he quickly stepped into full dad mode, and wants to unleash all the doting upon you and your child that he possibly can.

If the baby has not been born/hatched yet; he’s all about using his skilled hands to melt the tension from your feet and calves and anywhere else you might be tense from carrying the weight of another; letting his healing magic wash over you when your head is pounding and stomach is churning from the extra hormones; making sure you have proper nutritional meals to keep your stamina up…his healer capabilities really kick into high gear here.

If your little one is already in the world, they immediately take to Halsin like a moth to light. And he takes to fatherhood just as easily. It is a precious and priceless thing to watch the two of them bond so quickly. You knew he would take to it naturally, having all the qualities of a loving and supportive father. He was always a wonderful listener, he was just as good of a teacher, and he still held so much wonder and love for the world even after all his years. His zest for life was contagious and played right into the natural curiosities of a child.

Beneath all of the stoic wisdom is a man who loves to play. Loves to experience everything life has to offer. And it shows when they decide to have storytime before bed…or any other time your little one asks for stories. Which is a lot of the time because Halsin is rather good at it. He could be a bard if he wanted. But all he wants is to see the expressions of wonder on your child’s face, the shrieks of laughter and gasps of surprise filling his ears as he twists and turns the stories, acting them out with grand gestures and motions.

Sometimes storytelling evolves into playing “Adventurers”—or so that’s what the two of them call this game anyway…you call it pure chaos, but you don’t mind one bit. Not as your little one rides on the back of a giant wildshaped bear through the forest, roars and laughter tickling your ears. You join in at times, and it usually ends in one big giant cuddle pile as morning turns into afternoon and sleepy little eyes close for a short nap. It’s at times like these his heart threatens to burst, and you can see it in his eyes—feel it in the way his fingers trace your jawline and move softly, reverently into your hair…soon you’re drifting off in the peacefulness of it all too. Halsin just lays there holding the two of you in his arms, listening to your soft inhales and exhales. In the slow moments is when he really feels it hit him. How contented he is.

They’ll go on walks around the forest together, sometimes stop to examine a plant or a flower, your child asking Halsin 123812378 questions about everything they come across, and he answers every one of those questions with the utmost of patience. He genuinely loves to share his knowledge with young and curious minds. You can tell by the way his eyes light up, and how his voice excitedly carries across the meadow as he explains things like how flowers grow from the ground with the help of the sun and water and air.

He even asks some questions of his own to get your child thinking and talking, and also just to be silly and play: “what kind of animal would you be?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to eat?” ~ “do you think cats can have fins?” ~ “what is your favorite thing to do with mommy and daddy?”

When your child is sad or upset, he is there guiding them through their big feelings. Oak Father knows, Halsin has had his fair share of coping with tough emotions through his years. Even with all the practice he’s had though he still gets overwhelmed at times. Children need help getting through these sorts of big feelings, not to be admonished or chastised for feeling something natural. Of course while he usually spends time wildshaped when he needs to think, he knows that might not work for a child, and there are certainly other solutions. Like physical connection—hugs, and holding a safe space for your little one to feel. Maybe they need help labeling what they’re feeling, and Halsin is right there ever-observant and gentle with his words, “I see that you fell, does it hurt anywhere? Were you scared when you fell from the tree?” Your child responds tearfully, “it was scary,” so then after a quick scan Halsin knows he doesn’t need to mend any broken bones. He just needs to hold them and tell them it’s okay to be scared and to cry, and that they are very brave for doing so.

It’s moments like this that you find your heart swell with fondness so vast it nearly hurts. Because you know how capable of ferocity he is, how much strength and fortitude he has shown in battles past…that seeing him like this, so patient and supportive, so loving and gentle…you know he has finally been able to take the armor off both literally and figuratively.

He walks lighter, laughs louder, plays harder. His love knows no bounds, and he makes sure the two of you know it with every breath he takes. With every scratch he mends. With every toy he whittles. With every blanket he tucks in and every kiss he lays atop a sleepy little head. With every word and kiss and hug…he embraces this simpler but no less meaningful side of life with arms opened wide.

One day, after a very important and engaging conversation about “daddy, where do babies come from?” your little one asks him another question. “Daddy, can you and mommy make a baby?” His eyes lift to find yours, a heat there so smoldering you swear you could feel it sweep over your skin in a dizzying rush. “Little One,” he starts, tearing his gaze from you to look down softly at your child, “would you like that—a brother or sister to play with?” Their little eyes light up and they shout “yesyesyes!”

Halsin’s smile lines deepen as he laughs loudly. “You will just have to wait and see my little heart, all will be as nature intends.” He knows that is a conversation to have with you in a more private setting. Though he’s pretty sure he can tell by the speed of your breathing, the flush of your face, and the warmth in your gaze that you are no doubt feeling the same sentiment he is in that moment.

Adding to your little family might happen sooner rather than later…and he definitely would not say no to having more little ones running around.

#my heart 😭#my heart is full #Halsin #Daddy Halsin #please let this man have a family it is not too late for him #Best Dad Ever #all the Dad Jokes #i YEARN for this man #bg3 #Ask

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xxkeaton-makes-thingsxx · 1 year

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i really appreciate how well the fandom’s taking in alhaitham and kaveh sometimes - not in a shipping way but just their dynamic

*some slight spoilers to things like archon quests, character stories (and kaveh’s unreleased ones)*

like despite being shown only in the later acts, ive seen a lot more about them than ive seen with other dynamics (debatably on par with zhongchi when they were introduced)

i think theyre just really relatable for many people because i think a lot of the demographic of genshin community are students or young adults and theyve lived through their student days pretty recently and they understand that sometimes, even in the stifling environment of academics, theres also some stupid things that will inevitably come around

like the reasons why they get ticked off by each other is stupid, but i mean, i want to say weve all been through something like that before and its usually pretty harmless and we look back on it and laugh

or the angst that they also had to live through, and i think its shown best in kaveh - living through the high of his life, pursuing his dreams with the palace of alcazarzaray only to have it all crashing back onto him - a period of his life he would rather forget entirely, and has left him struggling to live on his own

of your best efforts, putting your all into what you do, and the harsh reality that its just not enough, just out of your control, and you can’t do anything about it. they show how you can be gifted at something, but also the burdens of it - alhaitham’s undoubtedly a genius, but also practically ostracized for it for his pragmatism and coldness towards others, and regular akademiya students hold him on some pedestal they just can’t reach, contributing more to his ‘robot’ vibe we initially got of him. kaveh has is own problems where despite talented, he’s taken advantage of by others. not necessarily exploited for his talents, but he’s been tricked and held himself back at times just to help others (whether or not its his own fault is a different matter)

the idea of leaving family. while alhaitham lost his parents, he was essentially brought up by his grandmother and he practically peacefully let go of her, like how children can grow up and parents watch them turn into an adult, support them, and recognize that this time it’s their child’s turn to start their lives, and while his grandmother is no longer present to see through this, it’s still a stark contrast to kaveh’s, specifically his mother. I feel like while it’s his mother that’s the one who moves away during kaveh’s younger years, it’s a lot similar to how parents kick their own children out of their house once they reach adulthood. kaveh isn’t settled into this life of independence or cut ties nicely like alhaitham had, instead, he’s thrown into this world and has to figure things out on his own and bear the burdens of it

anyways thats just my thoughts on the two i just wanted to get this out there because i think hoyo really outdid themselves with this dynamic

(ayato and thoma, despite being that five-star-four-star duo like alhaitham and kaveh didnt really sail as well as these two did but im really happy their dynamic is just so complex)

#ramblings #kaveh #alhaitham #Genshin #genshin impact #kavetham #haikaveh

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insertlovelyperson · 4 months

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We talk about this in a disorganized way on here and on the server (and obviously some version of your hc is in your fic) but what do you think the counselors’ families are like? Whose parents are still married, divorced, dead? Who has siblings and who doesn’t? Who’s best friends with their siblings and who has major sibling rivalry?

Great ask! Really interesting to think about since we don’t get a whole lot of insight into the counselor’s families…

Starting off with Ryan since he’s probably the one with the most info in game: absent mother (root of his abandonment/trust issues) and dead father. In his conversation with Chris about animation school (unless I’m mistaken) Ryan mentions his mom but not his dad: “Whether or not I should like, leave my sister with my grandparents… and my mom’s not exactly around so…” I just don’t think he’d be worried about leaving his sister with his grandparents and not his mother if she was still present in his life. And the fact that he doesn’t even mention his dad suggests to me that the man probably died when he was younger, and might be the reason he latches onto Chris as sort of a surrogate father-figure. I think he’d have a good relationship with his sister before camp (outside of standard sibling squabbles), but after the night everything goes down, it becomes strained for a couple of years.

Next, onto a head canon partially brought on by the cut-content leaks: Abi’s parents are divorced (and she’s a middle child of three girls—but that’s just me). It was a nasty divorce the resulted in a split-custody agreement for alternating weeks. She preferred staying at her dad’s house because her mom liked her older sister more than her. And while her dad likes her little sister more, he wasn’t as obvious with the favoritism (that, and she actually has a good relationship with her little sister).

In a somewhat similar vein: Nick is the youngest of three boys that were all born within one or two years of each other. And similar to Abi, he often feels like his parents (happily married, unlike hers) prefer them over him. Maybe the eldest is some star, prodigy athlete and the second eldest is this genius that ends up being valedictorian. And Nick’s just… Nick. And it’s not his brothers’ fault that he feels this way, or even their parent’s favoritism, but he can’t help but resent them a little for it (maybe not helped by the fact the first girl he ever dated broke up with him and started dating his brother, and then his entire extended family made him feel like the crazy one for being upset by that). I could see him making an AITA post on reddit about it and then going no-contact for a year.

Jacob is the baby of the family. I see him having an older sister (older by 7+ years) and a single mom. And while he rolls his eyes and bemoans all the ‘nagging,’ he wouldn’t change it for anything.

Laura strikes me as someone who has an authoritative father and a mother that grins and bears it. And while she loves her mom, she can’t help but sometimes resent her for not sticking up for us. When she’s old enough, she leaves and never looks back. Meanwhile: Max is an only child with a great relationship with his parents. When Laura moves out, she moves in with them and they treat her like their own daughter (in law).

Emma is also an only child, but unlike Max, she has a less than stellar relationship with her parents. I feel like her mom and dad would be really devoted to their work, and while it earns them an extremely comfortable (and wealthy) lifestyle, she can’t help but feel like an afterthought sometimes. That being said, it doesn’t stop them from being overbearing when she needs it the least, and without any siblings to help shoulder the burden that that attention brings... its like a pendulum swinging from each extreme: suffocation or isolation.

I feel like I switch up Dylan’s family dynamic with each new WIP I start. In the first (very, very canon divergent) fic I ever wrote, it was an absent mother and a present (but emotionally distant) father. And while that interpretation is very near and dear to my heart, I feel like it’s not really cognizant of the canon version of him. To me, he grew up in a small town in the midwest as the only child of a pastor. He was in the church choir, attended every bible study, and told everyone who’d listen that he planned on being a youth minister. He was even in the Boy Scouts! As soon as he turned eighteen, he packed a bag, took his cat, and left his parents a note with some things he thought they ought to know about him. He’s pretty sure they never bothered looking for him after that. He thinks they might’ve even told people he’d died.

Kaitlyn is the oldest of four (all brothers), and she has a pretty solid relationship with both parents. Her mom’s a mechanic at a local auto body shop that taught her how to shoot, and her dad’s a mild mannered accountant. She loves them all more than anything (though, she’s the closest with her dad).

In conclusion, Kaitlyn and Max @ everyone else:

#the quarry #dylan lenivy #ryan erzahler #nick furcillo #laura kearney #kaitlyn ka #abigail blyg #emma mountebank #max brinly #jacob custos

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oars · 5 months

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hiii I want to know more about appindex 👉👈

what is his relationship like with the other party members?

How easily does she trust other people?

If they are stressed or upset is there a thing/place/action that is comforting to him?

also anything else you want to share?

(I LOVE her design by the way, their appearance immediately caught my attention. Love your use of color too)

sorry this took me so long i swear when i saw this ask i started squealinf abd looking like this

gonna put it under a read more since um im gonna assume this will get really long lol

disclaimer im gonna straight spill my thoughts sorry if things stop making sense

i made a small comic just for the first question but tumblr doesnt like it for some reason and it prevents it from showing up unless you go directly to my blog :<

anyways i think overall appindex is like a mother of at least 6. companions come to them in the middle of the night like "i frew up :(" that typa thing

since family/clan n loyalty is very important to dragonborn and appindex just lost theirs before being abducted they are very quick to attach to these losers

i think while appin is not under the control of any god, lord, devil, etc they've created a personal hell of his own bc he tries to bear all responsibilities and burdens of those around him bc he's scared of failing and losing too much again. or all he has left really. that can make them kind of overbearing and it would be annoying if like the main companions didn't have issues and lowkey liked the attention.

what does get annoying is that it comes off as appindex not trusting their companions to do any heavy lifting but that improves in like act 2-3 especially since that's around the part the tav is expected to save baldurs gate. and the world like that's way too much weight for appin to carry on their own without breaking so atp they don't really have a choice but to let their companions share some of that albeit verrrry reluctantly

slightly more specific relations ---

shadowheart: shart is the first appin gets close to even if shes older i like to think she's like a little sister to appindex anyways <3 i should just show screenshots of the epilogue conversation bc it feels so fitting. probably one of the only companions to recognize appin's exhaustion and nag her

karlach: close in a years long tumblr mutual type intimacy way. "i'd let my mutuals come inside idc" type relationship. they occasionally sleep and cuddle naked. as good friends do. it's nice having someone they could rely on for literal heavy lifting and hitting bc in appin's eyes the rest of his companions are made of sticks and paper, save for lae'zel. girls who rip off heads with their bare hands and paint their nails in the blood :3

astarion: i do not know how to explain their relationship early on bc it fluctuates in my head. obviously irritated by how appin stops to help anyone and everyone especially since most of those people in act 1 are parents and children. appindex definitely laughs at his lame ass "seduction" bc it's pretty see through; it becomes less about seducing and just aiming making them laugh. appin probably said "im proud of you" at some point and it got to his head now he's vying for their attention and validation (get in line). my white hollow boned elf i'd probably give my organs to if he asked - appin

i think appindex is the more mature one, mentally and emotionally, especially since dragonborn develop and mature much earlier than elves do and i feel like dying young and being under cazador's control stunted astarions own maturity a bit. the result is appindex treating him like a child sometimes; not trusting him to do a number of things, scolding him,"dont treating me like a child" "dont act like one" etc etc. i think at some point he just does it and wears on appindex's extensive patience on purpose because he's a little freak like that :/. appin does not think its cute

ok no more of them next question

i think appindex is pretty trusting in a way. if they feel like they have no reason to feel threatened by someone they'll have their trust but that doesn't mean it can't be lost ofc. which is why they trust laezel and astarion so easily. why would they be scared of a tiny white elf who can't even get them to knife point (he failed that).

he does struggle to trust others to do things for them though, if he were ever to be out of commission or on the verge of it it would be like pulling teeth to try and get him to let someone else lead temporarily.

appin holds onto a piece of kednyr's old blanket bc it still smells like her :thumbs_up: karlach gives her a teddy bear with that piece attached to it as a gift. astarion may have helped but he will not confirm

extra notes ermm appin lived in the upper city, not a patriar or a servant, they just co-run an expensive smithy there.

as a passionate blacksmith (and someone who wants to become an artificer) appin is really intrigued by karlach's engine and wishes they could collaborate with dammon on how to fix it or make her a new one entirely

to add onto that he's extremely fascinated by the grymforge in the underdark its like a theme park to him. it is their nerdiest point in the storyline

they can stay underwater for a good period of time; an hour is their highest time

andd she has a prosthetic leg around age 40-45 sorry this got so long . this things in my head 24/7 rn i tried to omit some things to make it shorter but oh well

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blankfairy · 20 days

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this is how a girl becomes holy

Summary: She’s five-and-ten when Viserys Targaryen takes her to wife and declares her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; not yet a year past the death of his first. She’s six-and-ten when she becomes a mother. Somehow the latter feels more daunting.

Characters: Young Alicent Hightower, baby Aegon II Targaryen, Viserys I Targaryen, Otto Hightower.

Warnings: Implied/Referenced death in childbirth, implied marital rape, childbirth, underage pregnancy. All canon-typical, unfortunately.

inspired by this post and this post !! title/quote from prelude by brynne rebele-henry. read on ao3!

She’s five-and-ten when Viserys Targaryen takes her to wife and declares her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms; not yet a year past the death of his first. She’s six-and-ten when she becomes a mother. Somehow the latter feels more daunting.

Alicent is lying in the same bed Aemma Arryn perished in when she bears her first, and all she can think about is the scent of her blood, still clinging to the sheets, and the sad mewling of Baelon Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, as he died in his crib. Her handmaidens and nurses surround her, flitting around the bedside like pigeons, fixing pillows and wiping sweat from her brow and neck. They try to hide it, but Alicent sees their nervous glances, hears the soft quiver in their voices as they urge her along, and feels the shake of their hands as they clutch her own. She thinks she catches the glint of silver protruding from the Grand Maester’s pocket as he stands between her legs.

Stillborn. Deformed. Dead in the cradle. Which of these fates will her babe share with their half-siblings? Or will Alicent finally be the one to bear the burden of a son? The pregnancy hasn’t been easy, it wouldn’t be, for a girl her age, but no harder than poor Aemma’s; perhaps she’s only some part in the gods’ cruel plan to punish Viserys, and she’ll die the same way as the woman she stole her crown and husband from.

When the pain becomes its worst, and she fears she’ll be split in two, she prays to the Stranger it isn’t so. She prays to the Mother for mercy, and wishes her own was there to comfort her; she prays to the Father for strength, while her own stands outside the chamber doors with the king, awaiting the birth of the grandson he hopes to put on the throne.

Would he do the same to me as Viserys did to Aemma? The thought shoots through Alicent’s mind as the muscles in her belly pulse and shriek. Ser Otto Hightower, servant of the Realm first, father second. Guilt mingles with pain and the question is gone, replaced by a quick prayer for forgiveness. Of course he would. It is his duty.

It would be her duty. Alicent, too, is a servant to the Realm. Her body is no longer her own, her wants and wishes must now be for the good of the kingdom, and her joy belongs to her son — the one pulled from her womb after hours of fear and suffering. He takes his first breath, and his screams overtake her own. The maester proclaims him male, and before Alicent can even lay her eyes upon her child, Viserys is in the room, flanked by her father.

The Grand Maester wraps him in cloth and passes the bundle to Viserys, congratulating him, murmuring that he’s hale and healthy and that the Seven Kingdoms have a new prince. Alicent smiles, because that’s what she’s supposed to do; no one spares her a glance. Some part of her is thankful they won’t see that it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Aegon, her husband, the king, declares his firstborn son. He looks to Alicent for approval, and she gives a nod; her son’s name has never been hers to decide. Viserys looks back down at Aegon, and his smile falters. The object of his desire after fifteen years of yearning; the prize of his patience and consolation for the murder of his first wife.

He places his son back in the arms of the maester, and leaves. Alicent’s father squeezes her shoulder. Well done. A shaky anger rises in her throat, but she doesn’t know who or what she’s angry at: her husband, her father, or her son?

Thank you, she murmurs back, in the voice of the queen, not of Lady Alicent.

They wash Aegon of every trace of her own flesh before giving him to her to hold for the first time. By then, the room has cleared, save for the lingering nurses who fuss over the queen and her prince, fetching fresh linens and milk of the poppy.

Wide, violet eyes stare up at Alicent’s brown ones; tufts of silver-blond hair peek out from beneath his shroud. A stranger’s babe with a conqueror's name. Her son does not belong to her, either.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #viserys targaryen #otto hightower #character study #james writes

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haileyywrites · 2 years

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-> Snezhnaya is cold and unforgiving, yet it's a place where he cannot wait to return to. After all, you are there waiting for him...

-> Reader has no pronouns! Use of Childe's real name! Pure fluff and kinda comedic! Kinda long? Feels like Childe's just rambling lol He sends you a naughty letter - not described!

There weren't many people who truly knew or understood Childe. His extroverted and charming personality made him appear like an open book, but whether figuratively or literally he wore a mask before others. It was necessary for his line of work.

The only one's he didn't wear mask for was his family, but even they didn't know the full truth about him or the things he did. It was all for them and their own good... You though - you knew everything. With you he was the open book others thought him to be.

To be truthful, he never intended for you to know everything. Not only for your own good, but also so he wouldn't lose you... The truth was often a heavy burden to bear. It was a burden he didn't wish to lay upon you, but you saw right through his white lies and attempts of avoiding your questions.

You were his significant other - his lover! Of course you would share and lessen his burdens. Whether he liked it or not this was what you signed up for, and so did he. Relationship's required trust and communication in order to flourish and last. Besides, everyone needs at least one person whom they can openly trust and rely on.

To him that was you. You had somewhat grown up together, as you lived next to each other all your lives and were friendly enough, occasionally even hanging out together by yourselves. To you he always was just Ajax and that didn't change over time. During your teen years you grew feelings for each other, it led to a relationship which would last to this day. There were, of course, ups and downs. But it was nothing you couldn't overcome together.

You even moved in with him and his family almost instantly, his family had taken you in with warm and open arms! That was where you lived even to this day - you helped his mother around the house and played or spent time with his younger siblings. He couldn't be happier!

Everytime he thought about you and his family he was overcome with a need to propose to you and make you officially a part of his family! He was more than tempted to buy you a ring everytime he walked through Liyue Harbor, with all the gem and jewelry stores seeming to call out to him. He really needed to sit you down and ask about your feelings on marriage when he got back to Snezhnaya!

He smiled fondly at the thought of you standing by the freezing and dim docks for hours with Teucer - and possibly his other siblings. Just waiting for him to come home. Your smile could almost blind him due to its brightness, his chest would always be warmed by the sight. You would run into his arms and hug his so tightly he almost couldn't breathe while Teucer whined about being left out.

He was really whipped on you, wasn't he? To think one person could have such a hold on him was ridiculous. But he didn't mind in the slightest - infact, he had never been happier.

He hadn't gotten anything done in days. So lost in his own thoughts and feelings of missing you... Document after document piled high on his desk, yet his focus was solely on the light blue envelopes to his left. They were letters from you. Most were only a page long with nothing too interesting written in them, as in your recent activities and updates on his family. But he cherished them as if they were finer than all the Mora in Teyvat.

He had sent you quite a few letters himself, some with writing that was not so innocent... But he did truly love and miss you, he made sure to at least include that in each one. Wheter you enjoyed souvenirs or not he sent some anyway, only varying in size and content depending on your preference. If you didn't like something he would keep it in mind and not be too offended by you giving it to one of his siblings.

In his letter's he often included rough estimates of when he would be returning home. It helped to count down the days, but it also build some giddiness in the process - making it more exciting! This time though, he wanted to be mischievous and surprise you by arriving unannounced. He simply boarded the next ship to Snezhnaya - after Signora's left... His pettiness knew no bounds apparently.

The journey was not nearly as long as it felt like to him, but he was too exited to be patient knowing he would soon be face to face with you and able to hold you in his arms again after such a long time! As soon as he saw the docks he almost jumped overboard to swim to the shore to get home faster - thankfully he showed restraint. Still, he was almost bouncing in excitement by just the sight of the empty docks!

He rushed through the icy city while almost falling over multiple times from the ice on the streets, it was quite the comedic sight to see for those already awake during the crack of dawn! Thankfully he made it home intact, well mostly intact. His knees were likely purple from his stumbling and he would likely get an earful from you or his mother...

He sneaked into the dark and mostly quiet house, the only sound being the snoring coming from his father... Strangely he missed it in a way, it would become irritating soon - but now it simply made him feel at home. He wanted to laugh about the strangeness of it all, but chose to bite his tongue and play it safe instead. He didn't want to wake anyone up after all.

He crept into your shared bedroom where you were sound asleep while looking like an angel. Surprisingly you were sleeping on your side of the bed like you would when he was home - instead of hogging all of the bed like he expected you to. He took a moment to simply admire your relaxed features, a dumb and lovestruck smile on his face. Love and adoration radiating off of him.

Slowly and carefully he took off top layers of his clothing before joining you under the thick covers. He snaked his arms around your waist with his chest against your back and face buried in your soft hair, it smelled like your soap. He loved this scent... He loved you. He let out a content sigh as his body relaxed completely, he was home.

A lazy grin formed upon his lips as you slowly began to stir awake. “Ajax..?”

Childe I hate you - but I love you. I hate that I love you! 💙

Reblog if you want <3

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lostonehero · 5 days

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Faith alone will not save you

Some demon Oscar because the concept won't leave me alone

The cross is a burden and a weapon he carries. The old metal hangs around his neck like an anchor, keeping him grounded and drowning him in the same breath. He's had it as long as he can recall. No one dared take it from him. The doctors didn't even note it when they stitched up his missing arm.

As a child, he was told explicitly what he was and how the cross is the only thing to ever save him. Even as his faith wavered, seeing scratch, seeing those things that took his arm, and learning about creatures that would haunt him, he could never bear to truly stray far.

He met Arthur, a man who was his purpose, someone to save, but he failed too scared to truly use his power to save him. He didn't deserve a goodbye from him. He drove him to the hospital, which was enough. It had to be enough. He was a man of sin even in these garbs of a priest no matter how much he helped how much he gave he will always be a creature of sin. His faith never seemed to ever be enough. He held the heavy cross in his hand. Always heavy, always painful.

The door to his office opened, and Oscar didn't notice till a familiar voice cleared their throat, and he dropped his cross, bearing the weight like an anchor around his neck. "Arthur... Detective Noel? What brings you both to this humble church?"

Arthur's eyes never focused on him. They never did, and Oscar had a feeling he knew why. "We would like you to help us."

Oscar felt lighter and full of hope. "Of course, I am happy to help."

"Before you agree, you have to understand what we're asking isn't going to be easy or nice." Noel said, rubbing the fresh scar on his neck. "You may not come out just missing an arm."

Oscar knew what that meant, and he didn't care. "Monsters exist, and if I help, I'll be able to save others from them?" The nkd from both men made him smile. "I accept whatever you need. I am here to help."

"Are you certain?" Arthur pauses and sighs. "Then there is something you must know, about John."

"John?" Oscar hums.

"Yes." Arthur seems glued to his spot as a shadow grows from behind him.

That mask, man... no, it wasn't a man. Oscar knew him. He always assumed that it was just a lost spirit, but a king? A God? Well, a fragment of a God. He gripped his cross in his hand, and it burned, and he could smell it burned against his flesh. He knew what that meant, but he wasn't threatened, and he shouldn't he shouldn't be getting any stronger. "It's nice to meet you, John." He doesn't hold out his hand. It still clutches his cross.

.......

It was an accident, Noel was just trying to pull him away from his right side, and since he no longer had an arm on that side, he grabbed the cross. The monstrous creature was charging them, and the slight tug by different hands snapped the old metal chain into pieces, and the cross dropped to the floor. The sound was deafening to Oscar, but it was quiet against the wooden rotten floor of the building they were trapped in. The monsters roar didn't even stop him from reaching out for it, nor did Noel's shout, and Arthur gasped as he was knocked into the stone wall of the room.

Oscar knew it should hurt more than it did. He knew that he shouldn't feel his right arm. He knew he shouldn't have this monster in his missing right hand, choking the beast. Without his cross, he is just like this monster. A man without faith... not a man, a monster, a demon, something he spent his whole life trying to separate himself from. All he did was pretend to be human. He squeezed his grip tighter, and the creature whined a mournful sound its own claws useless against his. His body ached as he felt things grow from it.

The creature was silenced with an auidiable crack. Oscar stared at his hand as he dropped the creature. It was pitch black and monstrous. He hated it.

A new voice jovial and loud. "Wow, I did not see that coming!"

Arthur hissed out a name Oscar didn't catch as his eyes caught on the man covered in blood wearing a suit with no shoes or socks.

"Well, well, well, what are you, little priest?" The man appears right next to Oscar. "Never seen a creature such as yourself." He laughs loud and twisted. "Cute horns like your horny!" Another laugh louder it seems.

Oscar tried to recite a prayer, but it burned on the tip of his tongue. He coughed a thick black smoke before he found his voice once more unchanged as if it mocked him for this body. "What are you?"

The man frowns amusement gone from his eyes. "Always that question never how ya doing Kayne. Just because I don't know what you are doesn't mean you aren't boring." He snaps his fingers, and all he receives is a sneeze from Oscar. "I take that back."

Oscar falls back as he sneezes again with another snap, and his clothes rip with two wings erupting from his back. He covers his face.

"I didn't do that." Kayne laughs again, appearing next to Arthur. "You see this shit? I mean, have you've seen a creature like this, John? Can't even pop his skull like a grape."

Oscar hugs his chest, shaking with eyes on him. "I just need my cross it will fix this. It always fixes this."

Noel beats Arthur to stating the obvious that Kayne and John weren't privy to. "Demons exist?"

Oscar flinched and hugged himself tighter.

"Demon?" Kayne laughs harder and more manic. "You've been reading too much of that Bible demons angels they don't exist, buddy."

Oscar looks up at Kayne. "Then what am i?"

That silenced Kayne the riased brow and slightly opened mouth was not an expression he ever seemed to wear. "What are you indeed?"

Oscar looked away as he got up off balanced, but he managed to stand. He frowns as he stares at his mismatched clawed hands. He takes a breath. "I am a man of faith. This can't change that..... I won't let it change that." He swallows. "Kayne, you can tell me what I am and what I'm not, but I would like it if you not hurt my friends, God may give you mercy, but I will not."

Arthur gasps. "Oscar, don't!" His voice is muffled by Kayne.

"Friends?" Kayne hums. "Fascinating. Ok, I won't, but I'll be keeping an eye on you. You're such an interesting creature. I can't wait to find out why I can't harm you." He vanishes, and Noel stares at Oscar.

Oscar looks down. "I apologize for losing my temper." He grimaced at the dead monster at his feet.

#malevolent #oscar malevolent #arthur malevolent #noel malevolent

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misery-has-no-company-now · 4 months

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Speaking of torturing blorbos, do have any spare angsty NY and/or Loui hc’s :3

(It’s fine if not-)

Why yes, of course I do!

So I’ve already said that England was a bitch to New York, right? Well, so were the Netherlands. Good old Holland gave Yorkie his abandonment issues by sending him off to England when he didn’t want to “bear the burden of another overseas territory” (his words not mine, kill him not me <3) so decided to leave him with England. The Netherlands is also responsible for his daddy issues thanks to having given up New York to the English in exchange for the Island of Run in eastern Indonesia because he thought it’ll be “worth more” than New York was (true story, the Dutch gave up NY in return for an island where nutmeg could grow - because that was very rare back then apparently) which made New York think that even his father didn’t want him and would willingly give him away the moment he found a good opportunity to do so. The Netherlands is kind of like those parents who decide to have another child because they clearly don't like the one(s) they have right now.

And what does this leave Yorkie with? Why a bunch of issues, of course? *Slaps him with daddy issues + abandonment issues + attachment issues* He often used to feel very upset over the fact that his dad left him, or rather threw him away; and until he had children of his own (I headcannon the cities as either the children or the siblings of the states) and Father’s Day became a different thing and busier for him, he used to cry over the fact that he didn’t have a father since his didn’t want to keep him around and would sooner give him off to someone looking for more child soldiers to have in his army (Englanddd)

Thanks to all this he’s also always extremely scared that if he “messes up” again, then the people who he loves and cares for won’t like him anymore - and he thinks that they will then realise that he’s too much trouble for him so leave him just like the Netherlands did, or worse, hurt him like England did. He also can’t stand a loved one being mad at him for any reason at all, so this makes him a people-pleaser at times (but only to the ones he loves of course, because you know - the Northeast).

And you know how people have flight or freeze responses? Well, firstly I think he’d be a strong freeze in danger type of person; but depending on what the ‘danger’ is I also guess that he’d be the type to fawn - like you know, if the presumed ‘danger’ is something like a loved one being angry at him; in which case he just tries to appease them and often goes over the top in trying to make them happy again, even if they weren’t that mad in the first place.

And now, for Loui. Oh Loui. Pauvre ti bête, sha. So while it is true that he does see spirits a lot, he is sometimes unable to see if he is imagining/hallucinating them or if they’re actually real, so he’ll hurt himself in some way to try and see which it is. He uses pain to ground himself, kind of like an unhealthy coping mechanism. Often he takes this to extremes and this results in a lot of bleeding wounds, some which cut deep. Trimming his fingernails and keeping him away from sharp objects and all doesn’t really help because sometimes when he gets too emotional, his magic works on its own and hurts him resulting in injuries he cannot heal properly.

He also feels guilty very easily, even for things which are not necessarily his fault (like if his people did something terrible that he had no say in, he’d still feel like he was to blame for it because it was his people doing it in the first place) despite all the time he spends playing pranks with Florida. Sometimes he picks on these old wounds of his as a ‘reminder’ to himself of what happens when he does something wrong, or just to punish himself without adding further injuries that could hurt other people.

*slams him with alcoholism as a coping mechanism* (and once again, it’s unhealthy, of course)

He often feels bad about using his magic, especially since Mass and Maine don’t anymore because of the Witch Trials that happened. He saw Mass get persecuted in one of those (and take the brunt of his accidental use of magic in public) once and he lost most of the joy he used to feel in performing magic. He beats himself up over Mass having gotten hurt because of him too, though both Mass and Maine tell him that it’s not his fault.

Papa France is an ass and both Maine and Maine are geographically far away, though they do often meet with each other, so he sometimes feels a bit lonely and misses talking to someone older in his family who can give him advice and all that when he needs it. But he hangs out with a lot of people so he doesn’t feel this way that much these days. However, earlier when he barely talked to anyone else, he was rather lonely.

And this one is courtesy of France too. Loue sometimes also feels terrible for, as France claims, “butchering the French language” with his Cajun French, and these taunts of France make it hard for him to be as proud of his culture as he should be - but his friends and family are helping him work on that.

So um...I've got a lot more of these, but that's all for now because I think I should stop here. Let me know if you want more.

#Btw I'm so so sorry for this long wait.#I'm just getting around to answering all the asks I have in my inbox now #welcome to the table #wttt #wttt louisiana #wttt new york #wttt england #wttt france

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balladingbard · 11 months

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Pandaemonium's End and Its Relation to Families

Spoiler-tagging under the cut, but let's talk a little bit about Erichthonios, Lahabrea, and Athena (because I'm seeing some confusion on Pandaemonium's ending as well as a call to understand just what was going on with Lahabrea and his family.)

Let's be honest - Lahabrea's family had some issues.

Whether it was Athena's quest for godhood, Lahabrea's distancing, and Erichthonios' trauma, I think we can all agree that this family needed to be in therapy, and for all that he went through, Erichthonios really overcame a lot of baggage.

But rather than get into what happened in Pandaemonium's end, I think it best to focus on what it may represent. After all, stories have meanings, and I'd like to offer one of many takes on how I understood the ending.

Pandaemonium...simply put...is about family. The importance of it, the danger of it, and the impact it has on us.

We get a brief glimpse of family life in some side talk from NPC's in the Ancient world. We see the brother/sister duo on Elpis. We see Themis mention his own parents. We see couples fall in love, and marriage exists in the Ancient world. But with Lahabrea, we get our first true glimpse of a family dynamic, and honestly? It's not a good one.

Let's dig a little deeper...

Athena - The Mother

When you think of a mother's role, what do you think of? Probably the nurturer. The comforter. The selfless one who loves their child with all their heart. But when we look at Athena, I think she's supposed to represent the mother who lives only for herself. Yes, she has goals and ambitions like most mothers do, but instead of having her son and husband as partners and supporters to those goals, she uses them as pawns. Instead of being selfless, she is selfish. Instead of being comforting, she is cruel. And instead of guiding Erichthonios in his role to find his own purpose, she seeks to live her own dreams and ambitions through him, regardless of his feelings in the matter.

Lahabrea - The Father

When you think of a father, what do you think of? Probably the protector. The fixer. The selfless one who loves their family with all their heart. But Lahabrea stands out as a parent many of us know too well - the distant one.

Lahabrea is the parent who's always at work but never home. The one who puts his job above all else. But more than that, his distance isn't just because of his devotion to work. It's a cover up for pain. Pain with his marriage to Athena, which became so powerful that he literally ripped a part of his own soul out to seal it away. He is the wounded parent, pushing his loved ones to the side and drowning himself into something else (in this case, his job) so as to numb the pain.

Erichthonios - The Son

Here, we come to the heart of the matter. Erichthonios, the product of two imperfect parents who ended up bearing their burdens as he grew up. These burdens left him to believe that he was worthless, confused about his purpose in life and whether he was meant for anything. But though Erich's journey from "unloved" son to finding his "true" family is probably the gist of his character arc, there's something that Claudien tells Lahabrea after his awakening that really speaks to what was holding Erichthonios back.

Despite focusing on Lahabrea (though we could add Athena to this conversation), Claudien sums up what was going on with Erichthonios. He had scars - perhaps not physical, but certainly emotional- and like anyone who has been through parental trauma, those scars had difficulty healing (if they ever truly healed at all.)

I think this is one of the "unspoken" messages of Pandaemonium. Though the Ancients prized their impact on the Star more than anything, Pandaemonium shows that the true impact was found in the hearts and souls of the people themselves, guided by the people closest to them. Sure, Athena's research was prized in a scholarly sense. Yes, Lahabrea was a powerful and prominent member of the Convocation. But what good was their prowess when they did so much damage at home? Erichthonios spent his entire life trying to find meaning and purpose in all the hurt, and as we saw through his recorded message, he didn't stand with his father in the Final Days. One can't help but wonder if Father and Son truly healed their relationship, or if it was just simple patchwork. Or perhaps more healing could’ve happened had the Final Days not interrupted it.

It just shows how damaged Ancient society had become, elevating the Star and "purpose" as a whole over individuals and their own well-being. It also shows how powerful an influence parents and guardians have over their children. And just like reality, there are some wounds that go so deep that they may take an entire lifetime to heal (and let's be honest - some scars still remain.) But it gives us hope that even though the LahaFam never really did get "fixed", so to speak, healing still took place. Lahabrea faced his past and accepted responsibility. Erichthonios learned the truth and found that he was more than who his parents said he was, and came to see his father in a more endearing light. And even though Athena remained her selfish self (just like some real parents do), Pandaemonium showed that blood doesn't necessarily make a family. As Erichthonios learned, family can be found in friends too, or a time-traveling adventurer masquerading as Azem's familiar.

#endwalker spoilers #endwalker #pandaemonium spoilers #6.4 spoilers #lahabrea #erichthonios #athena #ffxiv lore

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robininthelabyrinth · 2 years

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Discordant Rhapsody - ao3 - Chapter 9

Lan Qiren’s first instinct was to bristle at being questioned in such a presumptuous tone.

Lan Xichen was his nephew, a child he’d helped birth with his own two hands that he’d raised ever since – Lan Qiren had a short temper for insolence in his students, and the additional leniency he gave to his nephews on account of his love for them did not mean that he did not insist on proper etiquette or that they show him the respect due to him as their elder.

Still, he swallowed the reaction back down.

The question was justified by Lan Qiren’s own irresponsible conduct, after all, and Lan Xichen wasn’t just his nephew, he was also his sect leader. He had the right to question anyone he wished in the sect, and while that position did not exempt Lan Xichen from the restrictions on honoring one’s elders – the sect elders wouldn’t have such sway if he was – his role still gave him far more leeway than most. Lan Qiren himself had taken advantage of that leniency on a number of occasions to impose his will despite the other sect elders’ concerns, and he firmly believed that his nephew deserved to do the same. He would be a rank hypocrite if he switched his views now that his position was different.

Still, there was lenience, and there was tolerating rudeness. Lan Qiren was neither a child nor in his dotage – he would not be scolded by his own nephew as if he was. Who did Lan Xichen think he was?!

“I have my reasons for my actions,” Lan Qiren said stiffly, his displeasure obvious in both body and voice. “To which are you referring?”

Lan Xichen at least had the self-awareness to look shame-faced and embarrassed by his exclamation.

“Forgive me, shufu,” he murmured, coming to sit. “It is only…ah, but you told me in your message not to listen to rumor. Do not make assumptions about others.”

Lan Qiren nodded, a little appeased. That was the rational, thoughtful Lan Xichen he’d spent so much time raising.

“But…if shufu could perhaps explain…”

And there was the stubborn one.

Lan Qiren inclined his head very slightly, a concession and a little bit of approval.

“I know that in doing what I have done, I have taken on the burden of the cultivation world’s disdain in Wei Wuxian’s place,” he said slowly. “As his teacher, I am beholden to him and him to me; his crimes become mine. More than that, by taking him on as a disciple after he has committed them, I appear to have implicitly condoned his behavior in defying the cultivation world. I have insulted in the Jin sect in particular, and they will be expecting the Lan sect to make right my actions.”

That was the benefit of a sect, after all. Wei Wuxian’s problem was only that the Jiang sect was too weak right now to defend him – if they had been at their full power, the Jin sect would never have been so bold as to demand retribution so blatantly. At most they would have made noises about aggrieved rights, about righteousness and justice, but they would have left the matter of how a sect conducted its own internal discipline in the hands of Jiang Cheng; in the end they would have accepted whatever punishment was inflicted and some compensation and then shut up about it. As Wen Ruohan had so ably demonstrated, forget a few guards, if you had enough power, you could even go so far as to kill the sect leader of another Great Sect without facing any real consequences.

“My actions have created a profound burden. I am aware of that,” Lan Qiren continued. “But… I am willing to bear that burden. I accept the consequences of my actions, and the punishment due to me for my having in turn burdened the sect. I understand that I have brought it upon myself.”

He couldn’t apologize for the burden that he’d put on Lan Xichen’s shoulders. While he regretted it, the way he always regretted anything that made his nephews’ lives harder, that regret did not mean that he would have changed his actions. An apology would therefore be meaningless and hypocritical, and the rules said be of one mind, decisive and honest with both oneself and others.

Lan Xichen nodded slowly. “I understand, shufu. But…why?”

Lan Qiren’s fingers tightened on themselves.

“For Wangji,” he said, and from the way Lan Xichen paled, he knew his nephew understood.

Lan Xichen floundered for a moment or two after that. Finally, he said, “Wangji wouldn’t…he wouldn’t have done anything – against the rules.”

Lan Qiren snorted.

“Indeed,” he said scathingly. “And yet, Xichen, I would challenge you to identify precisely which one I broke, as well. The rules counsel upholding justice, and do not condemn the taking of personal disciples – one need not break the rules in order to go astray.”

Lan Xichen faltered, then bowed his head, acknowledging the point.

(It was not actually as good a point as it might be – do not accept disciples without careful screening came immediately to mind as a possibility, and do not act impulsively was another – but Lan Xichen, at least, wouldn’t argue with him on this point, the way Lan Wangji might have.)

Still, point or no point, Lan Xichen deserved a more fulsome explanation.

“Wei Wuxian intended to remain on the Burial Mounds with the Wen sect, using its power as a means of defense…you saw with your own eyes what was left of the Wen. Virtually all of them can be described as elderly, infirm, or an infant; they wouldn’t have lasted three days without him,” Lan Qiren said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “The Burial Mounds is a foul place, inimical to human life, seething with resentment. It is wholly contrary to our cultivation path. Perhaps Wei Wuxian could find a way to thrive there, with his demonic cultivation, but…to think of Wangji there, amidst the filth and grime, each breath full of corpse ash and unanswered grudges…”

He shook his head.

“I understand, shufu,” Lan Xichen murmured. His eyes were sad. Unlike Lan Wangji, he had been old enough, albeit barely, to understand something of what had happened between his parents while his mother still lived, and to have to wrestle with that understanding. “But – the rest of the sect –”

“The choice was mine,” Lan Qiren said firmly. “Wangji has broken no rules. No matter where his heart leads him, whether his affections are requited or not, he has taken no action and cannot be censured.”

“He cannot, no. But shufu, you can be.” Lan Xichen looked at him beseechingly. “There are those in the sect that resent how you have managed sect matters all these years or the decisions you’ve made, those who have been waiting for an opportunity to express their dissatisfaction with you. In all this time, shufu has never given them a chance to do so, but now…”

Lan Qiren knew far too well what Lan Xichen was referring to.

It had been his brother that was meant to be sect leader, not him, and the Lan sect was after all a Great Sect, powerful and extensive; even with their family rules to help restrain them, it was impossible that they would lack in people with ambitions and schemes, divergent self-interests leading to petty infighting. Plenty of people had invested time and energy in supporting his brother with the hope of reaping future rewards, only to be disappointed in Lan Qiren, who was far more orthodox and rule-bound than his brother, and far less inclined towards favoritism. Still others had disliked his strict insistence on ethics, hating how he forced them to actually live up to the rules that bound their family rather than simply pay lip service to them – he had made examples out of several, killing the chicken to warn the monkey, and now both chicken and monkey hated him down to the bones.

Doing what he had done was, in fact, giving them an opportunity to rake him over the coals, and he had no doubt that they would take advantage of it. The voices arguing against his behavior would be all the louder simply because it was him – and the eventual punishment that might come for having breached the rules, however good his motives, was likely to be worse as well. He was very good at following the rules, after all; his enemies within the sect might not ever get another chance as good as this to obtain their vengeance while hiding behind the façade of sect discipline.

Lan Qiren knew this, had known this, and had proceeded regardless.

If he had ever lived his life out of fear, it was fear born of love, whether love for his nephews or his brother or his sect. Not once had he ever made a decision simply because he feared his sect’s punishment. Those petty vultures that still mourned those immoral things he forced them to stop doing…no, he’d never change his mind or his actions simply because of them.

“It’s not just the usual ones, this time,” Lan Xichen said. He was fidgeting in a most uncharacteristic manner, a bad habit that Lan Qiren thought he’d broken long ago. “It’d be one thing if it were just some people with old resentments, I could put a stop to that; the rules say do not hold grudges. But there are also others… You’ve angered more of the sect this time than you might think, shufu.”

Lan Qiren frowned at that, and thought of Lan Yueheng, so enthusiastically shoving himself where he wasn’t needed in order to make a declaration that was probably unnecessary – that Lan Qiren hoped was unnecessary. The implications of Lan Yueheng feeling the need to make such a public statement had worried him when he’d noticed it earlier, and they worried him now.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“It’s…” Lan Xichen hesitated, cheeks coloring. “They say…they said…”

“Do not be of two minds. Tell me what they said.”

“They said you were as bad as Father,” Lan Xichen blurted out, and Lan Qiren stared at him in shock. “They said you’d just been waiting all this time to put down the burden of the sect leadership so that you could do what you wished, and that you’d proved it because the first thing you did after that weight was gone was to act as vilely he had, dragging someone back just the way he did.”

It was the most offensive statement that Lan Qiren had ever heard.

And yet, the thing was, they weren’t…entirely wrong.

Hadn’t Lan Qiren had the same thought himself, comparing his taking of Wei Wuxian as a disciple to his brother’s taking of He Kexin as a wife? In each case they were deliberately making use of the norms of the cultivation world and their sect’s face, knowing that the sect would have no choice but to support them or else be embarrassed by them, in both instances both he and his brother had used themselves and their reputations to hide the crimes of another and to make their sect their unwilling accessory in doing so.

But Wei Wuxian had come to Gusu willingly, even if the circumstances had conspired to put him in a situation where coming to Gusu was a far better choice than his alternative – he had still had an alternative, however dire and distasteful the thought of staying at the Burial Mounds was to Lan Qiren. Wei Wuxian had not been forced, he would not be forced; there would be no seclusion for him, no eternal penance, no dying by inches. The Lan sect valued human life the most, but like most families, rated the lives of their Lan sect members at a little bit more than that; He Kexin’s crime of deliberately murdering an honored teacher had won her a far harsher penalty than the deaths of few Jin sect guards under questionable circumstances would ever amount to – Lan Qiren had meant it truly when he had told Wei Wuxian that he would take the full weight of that punishment onto his own shoulders. His action were meant as a gift, to Wei Wuxian and to Lan Wangji both, and he had asked permission to give that gift, obtained that permission without coercion…he was not acting selfishly, thinking only of himself.

Lan Qiren was not stepping on the faces of his ancestors nor forgetting their grace through his actions, as his brother had. He was not forcing someone into accepting something that would ultimately kill them. He was not bringing someone back unwillingly and trapping them away. He wasn’t –

He wasn’t his brother.

He wasn’t.

The shock took a little while to pass, but when it did, it was followed by anger. How dare his sect say such a thing? His brother had cast aside everything for He Kexin, up to and including the duties of sect leadership, those same duties to which Lan Qiren had sacrificed the entirety of his life, casting aside his dreams and turning himself into a substitute that serve the sect only as a bridge between his generation and the next. He was nothing like his brother.

Even his decision now was a decision he’d made thinking of others, wholly unlike his brother’s complete self-involvement…ah, but he couldn’t tell anyone about Lan Wangji! To admit that he feared that Lan Wangji would behave like his father before him had, thinking of nothing but love – he would never lay such a burden on Lan Wangji. He would never willingly insult him so grievously for a fear that had really been more about Lan Qiren’s own demons than his nephew’s conduct, present or future.

Once cooler minds had prevailed, Lan Qiren had understood that his worries were less about Lan Wangji than for him. Even if Lan Wangji wouldn’t disobey the rules all at once, his good character formed from being raised by a stickler like Lan Qiren, in the end his Lan sect heart would never allow him to stand aside as Wei Wuxian was chased to the end of his rope and then beyond. Eventually, someway, somehow, he would take action to support his beloved and no matter what happened then, his end would be miserable.

If Lan Wangji forced Wei Wuxian back to Gusu against his will, it would destroy any hope of love between them and break Lan Qiren’s heart in the process, destroying their family; if Lan Wangji went to Wei Wuxian’s side, choosing to live in the Burial Mounds, he would be setting himself against the entire cultivation world and even escaping with his life would be a challenge; if Lan Wangji defied his sect for Wei Wuxian’s sake, they would punish him, perhaps severely; if Lan Wangji failed to protect his beloved, whether through refraining from action or by trying to aid him without success, he would be as if one widowed, doomed to never again find happiness or a dao companion in his life now that the one who had captured his heart was gone…

Lan Qiren had prevented that, doing what he’d done. He’d prevented all of that.

Lan Wangji had broken no rules.

Let it stay that way.

No – Lan Qiren knew in his heart that he wasn’t like his brother. No matter what anyone else thought, no matter if they never knew the truth, he knew that he’d acted out of love, selfless love, rather than selfishness. That was enough.

“I…will deal with it,” he said, struggling to maintain his composure, his voice breaking only briefly, and Lan Xichen bowed his head to hide how he was biting his lips out of sheer worry. “Xichen – whatever the motive, the decision was mine. I should bear the weight of it. That is what our rules counsel, and I have always sought to live by the rules for better or for worse. No matter what the others may think of me, I acted as my heart directed me, and I have no regrets.”

Lan Xichen nodded. His distress had not abated.

Lan Qiren wanted to pull his nephew into his arms to comfort him the way he had when Lan Xichen had been young and too full of feelings to understand how to manage them. It would be inappropriate now, of course, and yet, the desire had never left him.

“Perhaps I spoke wrongly,” he said quietly, and Lan Xichen looked at him. “My sole regret is that you must deal with the trouble I’ve caused you.”

Lan Xichen looked surprised, then chuckled a little, the sound of it watery. “Shufu knows that with Wangji’s happiness at stake, I would likely do the same.”

In truth, Lan Qiren didn’t think he would. He loved his eldest nephew dearly, but he knew his character well – Lan Xichen was instinctively inclined towards peace, often meditating between rivals and genuinely convinced that everyone in the world could get along and all things forgiven if only some effort were put into it. He was not as grimly stubborn as Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji were, each one coldly and ruthlessly convinced of their righteousness, obstinate as mules, utterly unwilling to waver in their positions because of their conviction.

Lan Xichen would be a better sect leader than Lan Qiren ever was because of it.

His sect would love him, and he them. He would give them peace without letting them tear him apart. He would do the same for his family, who he loved dearly and deeply…but not excessively.

Not like his father. Not like Lan Wangji.

Not like Lan Qiren, either.

Perhaps because of Lan Qiren’s experience with his brother’s selfish madness, he had never valued the sort of love that would lead a man to pluck out his eyes to let his beloved see – the type of love that gave too much, giving for the sake of giving even when the recipient didn’t want the gift. He had spent so many years trying to teach his nephews the same lesson, trying to show them that they could love in a way that was productive rather than destructive, that they could be measured and moderate with their love and still be true. He’d thought that he himself served as a model of that alternative, a type of love that was no less deep and passionate for the fact that it was quiet and calm and left room for prioritizing oneself.

What irony.

What a joke.

Lan Qiren had, he now realized, modeled the precise opposite. He had wanted to keep his nephews from following his brother’s path, a love so selfish that it did not think about the harm it was doing to the one it supposedly for, but he had gone too far the other way. The rules said Love and respect yourself, but what was there in Lan Qiren’s life that he had not given of himself to that which he loved? It was only that he loved his sect, loved his nephews, loved the Cloud Recesses and the rules and the rest of it rather than a person that had obscured his vision and made him think, foolishly, that he knew the meaning of restraint.

Lan Xichen would be better than Lan Qiren. He would listen, and everyone would know he was listening; he would make decisions, and everyone would know that he had considered all aspects before deciding. He would compromise when he needed to, and stand fast when he had to, and at all times would remain sober, remembering not to lose himself in favor of his love.

If Lan Xichen had one fault, it was that he was too inclined to forgive, to bend and compromise, to see the best in people. But that fault, too, was something that could be mitigated – and would be, because he still had Lan Wangji standing beside him to advise him. Lan Xichen trusted no one in the world as much as he trusted Lan Wangji, trusted him more than Lan Qiren and Lan Yueheng and either of his sworn brothers, trusted him as if they were twins in truth rather than merely brothers. With Lan Wangji safe, with Wei Wuxian already at his side and no horrible future to devastate him and take him away from Lan Xichen during this critical time of rebuilding when the latter needed the former most, they would be able to together lead the Lan sect into the future that they deserved to have.

If Lan Qiren could achieve that, no matter what else, whatever he faced now would be worth it.

He just had to keep reminding himself of that.

“Let us go and speak with the other sect elders,” he said to Lan Xichen, who nodded grimly. “We will see what can be done.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #discordant rhapsody #variations

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