#* character study: { innocence died screaming }

[dreamedfyre-a]

sometimes i think about how helaena would invariably be 🧐 at any bride aemond might have. like she doesn't need to have feelings for him or to be romantically involved with him at all (if they are it's on sight i'm afraid), helaena will scrutinize the poor girls and it won't be easy to pass the vibe check

[dreamedfyre-a]

@sunfyred @ironf0rged

the borgias (2011-2013) cr. neil jordan / bojack horseman (2014-2020) cr. raphael bob-waksberg ↬ insp.

[forsorrow]

tag drop part two.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   character study   ›   hiding all our sins from the daylight.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   pre main   ›   one for sorrow.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   main   ›   seven for a secret never to be told.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   edits   ›   innocence died screaming.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   desires   ›   be still my foolish heart.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   ask prompt   ›   your words can plant gardens.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   answered   ›   muddy these webs we weave.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   queue   ›   standing in the ashes of who i used to be.

[joaniscruzing]

reuniting with jinx <3

everyone... that was quite the rollercoaster. but, i choose to believe that jinx is alive. i'm not ready to let go of arcane for a good while, and I'll do my best to upload fics more often, especially with the holiday breaks coming up too, so reel in whatever arcane requests you have! i write for vi, caitlyn, and jinx. i do take smut requests for these characters too if you guys would like to request some...

obviously though, jinx wouldn't leave without finding her amazing gf though... right??

summary: jinx surprises you while you're grieving, and you both escape and go elsewhere.

warnings: angst at the beginning, season 2 act 3 spoilers, kissing, emotional, lots and lots of fluff, I PROMISED A HAPPY ENDING AND DELIVERED

you couldn't believe it. your whole body crumbled to the ground as vi told you the devastating news.

"I'll tell you one thing," vi tried to quip, a small smile on her face, "she went out with a bang."

vi explained that she heard an explosion sound when jinx fell down the vent, and how she guessed she had set off one more bomb. you take vi close to you, hugging her tightly.

"she really did love you, you know." vi admitted, "i think she's just had a lot come her way. and i can't say I'm the most innocent in that realm myself."

you left vi to continue staring at the fireplace, about to leave and go to jinx's workshop, hoping to take a few things to remember her by. you see caitlyn looking at the vent diagram, studying it closely. how could she possibly studying the place where your beloved girlfriend died? you knew that caitlyn had grown to not hate jinx anymore, so you decided to just leave it at that.

after leaving the kiramann mansion, you traversed back to zaun, thoughts racing through your head. had you not done enough? loved her enough? given her a reason to live? you wanted to scream as loudly as you could, and let whatever you were feeling out.

you finally made it to where jinx had her things, and you took a deep breath before entering. this was it.

the once lit-up place was darker and worn-out in her eyes. the once neon, bright-colored place seemed to be dark and empty now. like you without jinx. a tear rolled down your face as you picked up small tools and things, even parts of a flower she was making for you out of scraps. you sat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, trying to make sense in your head of what you should do next.

"did you really think i was gone, hun?" jinx questions, right behind you. your entire body leaps at the sound of her voice. it can't be.

"jinx?" you ask, shooting your head up and turning around.

"did you really think i was gonna die that easily? now stop moping. we have to get on the hot air balloon."

shocked, you hug jinx quickly before shoving one thing you collected in your pocket. you both start running. hand in hand, you make a beeline in order to get on the next hot air balloon.

"you know what i realized? things aren't so great here, so why don't i just go somewhere else to do my thing? but, i knew i couldn't leave without you." jinx explains while running.

"how did you even get out?" is the only thing you manage to say.

"my shimmer, silly! i got the hell out and escaped through the air vents."

"and how did you get back to zaun?"

"simple hacking and tweaking of the hexgates. nothing special."

you both finally make it onto the airship, jinx holding your hand as you get on so you don't fall. she closes the door behind you.

"so. this is it. any last wishes before we leave forever?"

"my biggest one has been granted," you answer before pulling in jinx for a sweet kiss. you had missed her, as you hadn't seen her for a week or two with everything going on. jinx pulls away, explaining that you two had to go.

"you know, i've always wanted to drive one of these," jinx admits, steering the ship, "i have since i was very young." you notice a new sense of peace in her eyes as she drives the ship. she doesn't seem so... tortured anymore. in fact, she seems free of any past issues.

her newly cut hair blows in the wind, as you go up behind her and hug her waist, your head resting on her shoulder. no matter what the future held, you knew you were going to be happy. as long as jinx was there, you would be at peace.

"i love you," jinx says softly, taking one hand off the wheel to rest on top of yours.

"i love you too."

[del-thetiredwriter]

Saintess of dragons part 2

Part 1 , part 3

Warnings: major character death,not really dark themes , my bad writing

English is my second language

Gif is not mine

"What are you doing?" Helaena asked . The two of you were sitting outside the training ground. It was one of the rare times you didn't spend your time in your study room. The boys had insisted that you watch them during their sword practice.

"I'm checking my notes" You answered. You've been restless since you saw Laena at the celebrations. She was going to die soon—which she didn't even know about. You had to make a decision until Laena's funeral, a decision you hadn't been able to make for 11 years. You were either going to save everyone and change the future , or you were going to choose the original future, the future where everyone died.

“Why do you always take notes or check your notes?” Helaena asked innocently. You lifted your eyes from your notes and looked at Helaena. You swallowed. "Because I don't want to forget." You answered. You didn't want to forget: your past, your family, your friends, your life 11 years ago.

You looked into Helaena's lilac eyes, innocent but equally frightening eyes, those eyes that seemed to understanding what you were saying.

Helaena was about to ask another question but Aegon and the others came running up to you.

“I won Y/n. I won the fight." said Aegon excitedly. He was looking at you with eyes waiting for you to praise him. Jace sighed, unable to accept his loss. Aemond and Luke were waiting for you to take care of them. You smiled and congratulated Aegon.

“You're just going to congratulate me. As a winner, I deserve an award.” Aegon said .

“A reward? What do you want?” you said.

"to be my wife," said Aegon. Aemond and Helaena waited for your reaction as Jace and Luke objected to Aegon's offer.

“Unfortunately, I must say that this will not be possible, my prince. I don't want marriage or anything like that, neither now nor in the future.”

You thought, 'If I get married, I can't return '.

Aegon seemed to protest, but could not insist any longer. He didn't want to make you angry.

⁎

You're back in your study room. You knew that Aegon loved you, but you didn't think it was enough to propose. You thought, 'It must be because he is still young, it's not serious'.

You looked at the notes on the table. You thought, 'I have to make a decision’. It was like a dream to open your eyes in the series you love 11 years ago. Seeing and talking to your favorite characters live. It looked great at first, because you knew the future, you could change the future and give everyone a happy ending and stop the war.

You tried and you paid the price. The slightest change was causing you to gradually forget your past. You were afraid of forgetting your family, your life, what you knew, so you withdrew. As time passed, you realized that you were not getting old. This scared you even more.

The whole room was covered with charts, notes and paintings you had drawn. Everything was to remember and to return. If it weren't for these paintings and notes, you'd have forgotten your past. You looked at the picture in which you drew a happy moment with your family in your most recent work. You thought, 'Everything will be fine'.

⁎

There were screams. When you looked around, everything was on fire. Kingslanding was on fire. A silhouette was coming towards you through the fires, Laena. She was wearing a blue bloody dress.

“Laena. I- you- why? “You said hesitantly.

Laena just looked at you sadly and smiled.

She said "You could save me but you didn't"

“Laena I-” you swallowed.

"You were afraid. But you are the reason why everything is covered with fire and blood right now,” she said, pointing around.

“You didn't save me, you didn't save them, you couldn't save us. You left us to our fate,” Laena continued.

“Us?” You said

“Yes, us.” Said Laena

Then came the screams from below. Voices of familiar people. Rhaenyra, Helaena, Lucerys… others. They were all bleeding under your feet, begging you, pulling you towards them.

“Laena I-!”

“Make your decision before it's too late! Please,” Laena said. While you're being pulled down.

⁎

“Laena!” You Looked around. You were in your room. It was just a dream, a nightmare. The door knocked .

"Come"

A maid hurried in.

“Forgive me my lady, but I have news”

Your eyes widened with fear when you heard the news. Laena has died .

[tlonista]

A whole mess of Astarion hurt/comfort fanfic recs

OK fine I've read so much Astarion hurt/comfort-adjacent fic that I should really put together an incomplete rec list. Be warned that with Astarion's canon backstory there's a lot of abuse and assault references of varying explicitness, so check the AO3 tags. I'm also limiting myself to one fic per author because otherwise I'd end up with several pages of Asidian and FlowerCitti. In case you're wondering, my personal contribution to the field is Seducere.

Ongoing Fics:

innocence died screaming by FlowerCitti

Comprehensive pre- and in-canon Astarion character study. Contains possibly the most heartwrenching post-Astarion-locked-tomb-era turn I've ever read. Very good.

Another Path by Asidian

A sweet Wyllstarion monster hunter x monster no-tadpole AU in which Astarion gets captured/rescued by Wyll straight out of a year in a coffin and navigates basic human kindness for the first time in a couple centuries.

Seen by ayvaines

Modern Bloodweave AU where Cazador is Astarion's cruel, controlling boyfriend and Gale is the kind D&D GM who's hosting them both in a game. As makes sense for a modern AU, it's a more-understated-than-canon take on Astarion coming to terms with the fact that he's in an abusive relationship, working out his feelings about Cazador through tabletop roleplaying, including some clever scenes dealing with the bleed of intense RPG sessions.

Heartbeats by LadyRagnelle

Canon-divergent Durgestarion fic where Astarion was recaptured by his siblings, memory-wiped, and then rescued by a team of companions he no longer remembers. A lot of well-executed (and sometimes surprisingly funny) angst around Astarion, charlatan that he is, trying to pretend he hasn't forgotten absolutely everything including how to be a non-level-1 rogue and have friends.

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers

Gale is trapped in fantasy nullspace and gets Astarion free of Cazador's clutches, after which they navigate an odd-couple relationship while trying to kill Cazador and pull Gale back into the physical world. Another classic "Astarion learns what human decency is" no-tadpole AU.

Memoir by IzzyIzGay

An Interview with the Vampire-style fic in which Astarion tells Gale about his time under Cazador, playing with that series' trademark unreliable narration and an unusually literal version of Cazador's creepy family dynamic.

Starved by neo7v

A modern non-magical Bloodweave AU featuring Astarion and the lonely degradation of a precarious service industry job! Only a few chapters so far, but seriously, it takes the "vampiric starvation" theme in a direction that's very mundane and miserable and compelling and it's one of my favorite recently started fics.

Unexpected Guests by Erandir

Another "get loved and cared for, sucker" no-tadpole AU featuring a non-Tav druid OC taking care of a lost Astarion who's escaped Baldur's Gate. Astarion and druids, the perfect foil.

Through The Night Dark And Drear by JJJSchmidt

Astarion is accidentally bargained off to an archfey by Cazador and taken to the palace of infuriatingly confusing fair folk magic! There's still a lot of story left to be uncovered, but I love the worldbuilding and fairy-tale premise.

snare by parsnipit

A Halstarion fic where Astarion never got tadpoled and the gang ends up rescuing him from Cazador, post-game, with his compulsions very much intact. Which leads naturally to hissing wet cat Astarion reluctantly learning to trust Halsin while they plot to take down Cazador.

One-Shots:

Quick Step by starkraving

starkraving's another person who could have made up a big chunk of this list, and this character study plays really well on the classic "how the hell does Astarion know how to be a rogue anyway" fandom conversation. My favorite entry in a good and growing series of Astarion-centered fics.

Gifts by Feena_c

Astarion gets caught by Cazador before the confrontation at the palace. Impeccable "Cazador doesn't realize Astarion didn't just come back to Baldur's Gate, he came back loved" vibe, as Cazador tries to break Astarion by taking away the gifts the tadpole gang gave him along the way.

What is Affection but the Absence of Cruelty by Aztec24

One of my favorite tropes is "Astarion tortures himself by obsessively imagining how awful these perfectly nice people will be to him," and this very much delivers. Featuring a rare two-Tavs-plus-Astarion throuple!

The Mimic by ForsakenFlyingCircus

This is really hurt-no-comfort, but I'm including it because it's a good super sad take on dehumanization with an awful Tav confirming all the worst things Astarion thinks about himself and the world, touching on the whole problem of sentient monsters in D&D.

Peel the scars from off my back by WitchyBee

A Spawn Family fic in the aftermath of Astarion getting Cazador's contract on his back - lots of antagonistic but grudgingly caring sibling interaction and Astarion being satisfyingly ambivalent about it all.

Complete Multi-Chapter Fic:

Just A Taste by NightmareGiraffe

The tadpole gang gets imprisoned at Moonrise Towers and Astarion accepts an offer from Araj Oblodra in exchange for their freedom. A very dark yet totally in-character elaboration on the canon blood merchant encounter, plus a cool dragonborn Tav.

The Accountant’s Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you are at it) by Cinnamontails

A charming f!OC-who-isn't-Tav/Astarion longfic that combines hurt/comfort with het romance novel conventions, which I feel like is rarely pulled off.

And I know there's a ton I missed here -- god this fandom is big.

[soopha]

Who would have thought that losing control of the situation would be so pleasant? sub!salesman x dom!reader Nonsense written at 4 a.m. (I really should start studying for exams…) English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes (a third of the text is literally translated through Google translator). If you find any mistake, please tell me. I haven't really figured out how to make a beautiful post here, so yes. Warnings: gun sex, foot fetish, sub!salesman, dom!reader, "***" is used instead of "y/n", salesman's name is Gong Yu because, why not, an alleged deviation from the character of the canonical characters. I doubt that anyone from the eng community will switch, but here is my telegram channel, where I try (or will try) to post any headcounts, spillovers about future updates.

Ideal. One word that could describe Gong Yu. The perfect employee, the perfect recruiter, the perfect husband, the perfect everything. He is always dressed to the nines, with perfectly styled hair and with a perfect strained smile. The devil in the flesh.

Every day is like another day. He wakes up, goes to the shower, does morning exercises, has breakfast and goes to work, returns home, takes an evening shower and goes to bed in his expensive silk pajamas, kindly given to him by his beloved wife. The Korean Patrick Bateman.

With all his appearance, this man shows the absence of fears, conscience, feelings and other human flaws. Who would have thought that someone like him could have weaknesses?

After straightening his jacket after another game of dacji, the salesman left the subway underpass. It was getting dark. Drunks started coming out of bars and pubs. Perhaps if it hadn't been for fatigue (yes, surprisingly, he felt it), he would have offered to play with them, but besides fatigue, the man's sixth sense screamed at him about something, but about what specifically, he didn't understand.

Taking his phone out of his pants pocket, Gonyu quickly unlocked it and moved away from the aisle. 22:45 was the time on the screen.

"*attachment* look how beautiful it is."

            18:55

"but the most beautiful thing is underneath it ^^"

            18:55

"How much longer do you need? You said you'd come early today, remember?"

            19:38

« :( »

            20:40

"Have you forgotten?"

            21:05

Fuck. Literally running out to the road, the recruiter stopped the first car he saw and, in a hurry, straightened the stray strands and growled the address. As soon as the taxi started moving, the man took a deep breath and looked at his phone again. It's almost ten minutes to eleven, and at best he'll get home by about eleven–thirty, which doesn't change much, because the fact remains that he's late.

He could be a self-satisfied narcissist, he could be a murderer whose hands were stained with blood dozens or even hundreds of times, he could be a scoundrel innocently sending people to certain death, and then calmly fall asleep as if nothing had happened, dreaming before going to bed about the next torture of a new unhappy soul, but he would never allow himself to let his wife down, to make his woman wait for him more than she should, condemning the unfortunate lady to torment and doubt in her soul about his loyalty to her. - I'll pay you twice if you take me earlier than half of the next hour, – he said in a slightly trembling voice, which in general no one would have noticed even if they had wanted to, the only one who paid attention to this with horror to himself was the man himself. – in triplets if earlier than twenty minutes.

The driver just grinned slightly and accelerated. The salesman hated it when something didn't go the way he wanted, hated it when something didn't obey his will, his blood boiled just at the thought that something would get out of his control. Often, when something like this happened, someone died, and God knows, this drunk (and Gon was more than sure that he was) would not reach the house alive if he arrived later than the designated time.

Time passed for a long time, the brunette kept glancing at his wristwatch, but it didn't go any faster, and it didn't give the car much speed. Turn, turn, turn again, traffic light. And so on a few more times. At some point, the car stopped at a multi-storey building. Gong Yu anxiously looked at the time - 23:19. "That'll be 1,080,000 won, mister (75,600 rubles)," the taxi driver smirked as he turned to the passenger. In response, the salesman took out a million and a hundred thousand won from his suitcase and threw them at the elder, jumped out of the car, shouting at the last "no change needed."

The man almost tore the entrance door off its hinges, opening the front door abruptly and with such a wide swing that the handle from the street side hit the wall, which generally happened involuntarily. He walked briskly, but without losing confidence, into the elevator wing and leaned against one of its walls. Exhaling heavily, throwing his head up, trembling slightly, the recruiter turned his head towards the mirror. He didn't look his best: his hair was disheveled, his jacket was open, his hands were shaking, and there was a crazy, almost desperate gleam in his eyes. Abruptly straightening up, he leaned closer to the mirror, as if blocking the camera's view of himself, he wiped the light sweat from his forehead, straightened his jacket, pulled back the mask of hypocritical decency, went out into the vestibule, groped for the keys. After standing in front of the door for a couple of seconds, Gong Yu thought about his next actions for a couple of minutes. What would he tell her? What are we going to do when he sees her tear-stained face? Will I be able to leave today about the scandal about his strange job? About his confusing schedule? Will it be possible to just get off with sex today, like before? Exhaling (for the umpteenth time that evening, in the shortest possible time in his life), the recruiter opened the door with his key and listened. The house was quiet, except for the soft murmur of water and the sound of dishes in the kitchen. Gon quietly took off his expensive shoes and left them in the hallway and followed the sound. It's just as he expected: at the sink, standing *** and washing dishes, probably in the same dress, the photo of which she probably sent him in the evening. The kitchen smelled of baked chicken and wax. Looking back at the table, he saw a cold dinner, a bottle of expensive red wine, a table set for 2 people and 3 completely burnt out white candles. A pang of guilt immediately pierced his heart and, quickly approaching his wife, the recruiter hugged her from behind as gently as possible, burying his head in the top of her head. The girl froze for a split second, her hands stopped shuffling the dishes, and the sponge fell into the soap suds. A moment later, she twisted out of his arms, and rinsed her hands and wiped them on his jacket.

"Dinner's on the table, I hope you'll think to warm it up." – her once gentle gaze was replaced by a cold one (the same as dinner), full of disappointment and unspoken dissatisfaction. After briefly lingering on his face full of shock and regret, *** proudly turned towards their shared bedroom. - ***, wait!  He tried to grab her arm, but she darted away from him. – Dear, let me explain everything!

"I've already figured it out. I don't want to hear your next excuses, Gong Yu – she quickly went up to the second floor and ran into their bedroom, but she didn't close the door. Without wasting any time, the salesman rushed after her, all wet and annoyed. Without letting her close the door with her hand, he began to move towards the girl, looming over her with a menacing figure. Feeling his blood boil in his veins with rage, he slowly walked towards her, forcing her to shrink into the chest of drawers.

- I understand that you're angry, honey – like a tiger approaching its prey, he got closer and closer with every step until finally he completely pressed her in – but you didn't even let me explain – leaning over her neck, the man continued his tirade, scorching his wife's shoulder with hot breath – I understand I'm sorry, I made you wait, I made your sweet little head come up with all sorts of nightmares and doubts, I'm sorry – he gently bit her neck – but you understand me too… I'm tired, I've been working all day. – The salesman looked into her still empty eyes and with genuine disappointment returned back to her neck, bit her hard, growled – don't forget, after all, on whose money you live, my love.

For the most part, that was how their every argument went.  Gong Yoo-in forgot something, didn't finish something, she tried to take offense at him, then in the evening they locked themselves in the bedroom and fucked until dawn. Recurt was ninety-nine percent sure that this time everything would happen exactly the same, when suddenly something cold and suspiciously familiar was pressed against his cheek. With growing horror, he tried to turn to the object to his left, but it didn't work out well. - Shut up - *** pressed the gun harder against his cheekbone – from this second on, you won't say a word until I let you – she grabbed the right side of his face with her free hand and roughly turned it towards her – do you understand?  The salesman had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at his wife in shock and tried to think of ways out of the situation.  – I'm asking you – a slap in the face, like a bolt from the blue, shattered the silence. The man opened his mouth, not expecting such an act from his once gentle wife. He nodded, still keeping silent, "words, honey."

- Yes… I realized that he had noticed with horror that this position aroused him.

The girl pushed him away from her, and pointed the gun somewhere at his chest.

"How the fuck do you dare come into this apartment after what you've done?"  She slapped him again, but on the other cheek. "on your knees, bitch."

The recruiter hesitantly lowered himself on trembling legs and leaned on his hands in front of him. ** I walked past him and sat on the bed. Giving a silent command: "crawl." Interesting fact: after a few years of married life, people tend to understand each other without words. In confirmation of this, we have a beautiful specimen – Gong Yu, who, despite all his pride, hesitated for only a couple of seconds (an unacceptably short period for a man like him), turned around and crawled to his beloved. - just look at how quickly we switched places – she smiled smugly and stretched her leg to his head and lifted his chin with her toe - what would your colleagues say when they saw you in this position? - The salesman  realized with horror how he looked from the outside and involuntarily remembered his superiors: about the other recruiters, about the guards in the triangular ones, about the frontman. But after a quick search of colleagues, another, more frightening thought returned. Did she guess? Did you find out what he does? But how? So many years of manipulation and concealment of information, so that now, during another minor (specifically for him) quarrel, would it really be like this, without his knowledge, his only and beloved wife found out about his "dirty deeds"? The man's face paled and he looked at her in surprise–you should have seen your face, you pompous bastard. – *** I poked his lips with my foot. – you know, sometimes I think that I'm wasting my time on you. I try, I try to please you, I choose a pretty enough dress, no less sexy lingerie, I put up with all your strange, painful fetishes, and how do you respond to me?  All the while, she was massaging his lips and cheeks with her foot. It still turned him on like hell – you're giving me a hard time, you haven't even read my messages – she abruptly sat up, leaned on her knees and brought the muzzle of a pistol to the place where his leg had been recently – with all my efforts, maybe I should treat you like a kept woman – she's a little She pressed the weapon on her husband's lower lip – suck. The salesman, looking at her face with some embarrassment but a certain amount of excitement, smiled psychopathically and opened his mouth, still without breaking eye contact, swallowed the muzzle halfway. The point of no return has already been passed. A part of him tried to resist it, because he himself, Gong Yu, a man who makes some people shudder, a man who decides people's destinies, an ideal man who always has everything under control, is now on his knees in front of a woman who humiliates him. But the other part enjoyed this loss of control, this play of power and the sudden revelation of his angel by the dominant. The taste of gunpowder settled on his tongue, metal hit his teeth, cold alloy slid into his mouth, adrenaline was pumping.

With unhurried movements, the man moved his head up and down, slightly closing his eyes, feeling his penis itch and rub against the fabric of his trousers.

"Oh, my God… Maybe you were made for this job?  She grinned and pushed the revolver deeper into his throat, enjoying his surprised look–what happened to his face? Did I say something wrong?  He choked on it. Distinctive sounds filled the room. Tears welled up in the eyes of the salesman, his head was spinning from the unspoken questions. – it's a pity I don't have a dick – the gun went into my cheek – such a nice mouth, but I don't have the opportunity to feel it – *** exaggeratedly, sadly, sighed and suddenly hit the man on the cheek – look at the interlocutor, this is not polite - the revolver returned to its native place, deeper into the man's throat. If Gong Yu had ever been told that he would kneel in front of someone, especially a woman, he would have laughed heartily. But now he was clearly not laughing – his face was flushed, his perfect hairstyle had turned into hell, tears were streaming down his red cheeks, his jaw was starting to ache and ache, as were his knees from an unusual position.

Heavy breathing and soft moans, which grew louder and louder with each swallow, were heavenly delight. It's not every day that you see the ego of a pompous salesman break, as with every movement of your hand, his lower lip trembles more and more, as his hips involuntarily twitch with pleasure, denied by himself, with each new slap and stinging phrase.

The girl got up closer to the brunette and gently stroked his hair with a gentle movement of her hand. As soon as the bleary eyes looked up at her, she grinned and, squeezing her strands, pushed Gon deeper into the muzzle until it would have been physically impossible to swallow deeper even if she had wanted to, until the recruiter's lips poked into the part of her hand with her finger on the trigger, and then "took off" the revolver with a characteristic slap. Now, the only thing that reminded of contact with the gun was just a trickle of saliva connecting the lip to the front sight, which quickly burst, dripping obscenely onto the expensive carpet. "You should see yourself now," she quickly grabbed her phone from the bed and opened the camera to take a picture of her husband. Turning the screen to her "model," she continued – look, it's amazing how with such abilities you don't work as a porn star or a stripper –giggled and threw the samsung back – although... who knows – she grabbed his tie and pulled it on, almost choking, forced the salesman to bury his face in her thighs – you told me you're not telling me anything– again, the fake mask pulled over her face – maybe you want to tell me now. Your mistress lets you talk," she kicked him in the groin. A throaty groan escaped Gong Yu and he unconsciously leaned forward to meet the touch.

"I... don't understand what y-you're talking about, honey–an unsuccessful attempt to regain control by pulling on a smug smile and a playful sparkle, covered with a copper basin of another blow to his crotch and a new moan.

"Really?"  She continued to run her sock along its length in a circular motion. Should I tell you myself? Are you saying that I was told the truth?

It was useless to count the number of times the elder's face was distorted into seemingly impossible grimaces for him. In five seconds, it changed from the ecstasy of primal emotions and the pursuit of high to confusion: her eyes widened, her mouth opened slightly, but not to moan, her hands trembled behind her back and reached for her waist. What exactly was she told about? By how much? He tried to get his brain to work, but all his thoughts were occupied by the feeling of his wife's foot rubbing against his clothed penis. "Y-dear," he tried to move away from her a little to look into her eyes from a more comfortable angle and stretch his neck. The salesman  was desperately trying to find at least some words, to collect the remaining pieces of his mind, but there was nothing in his head. His strong hands slid over her thighs, slightly squeezing from the mix of emotions – I'm sorry, I can explain everything – tears of despair were about to spill, but they were easily brushed away by the contrasting soft movement of the girl's hand.

- Well, well, why are you so…  Take your time, we've been through so much together, I'll understand everything – the next movement on his crotch became the final one in an incomprehensible dance – the foot stopped on the head and pressed hard. Her piercing gaze drilled holes in him and her palm gently hugged his cheek, to which the man almost instantly buried himself in her – I'm your wife, after all.

A plaintive whine from the cessation of friction and tossing from one sensation to another escaped Gong Yu. The phrase "I'm sorry" was repeated over and over, over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer to the deity at the icon in the temple. What a blasphemous but clear comparison: a gibbering man on his knees, as in confession, vows to change, if not for the modern apartment environment, it would be easy to think that the actions of the narrative take place in a church. Convulsive efforts to plan their next actions were overlaid with a red cross by the lack of discharge of increasing arousal and the suffocating atmosphere of sex hovering in the room. - I've never seen you like this – attention to the penis returned along with the movement, but this time the "circle" changed to "up, down" - do you want to cum?

The recruiter was going crazy (although it seemed much more?). He howled and pressed his face into her thighs and nodded his head vigorously. The mixture of "yes," "please," and "I'm sorry" was pronounced by him more and more often, and the tremor spread back through his entire body.

- Do you remember the words honey? I gave you permission to speak.

- Yes, please!  He shook even harder.

 She moved faster and patted the recruiter on the head encouragingly, delicately wiping the tears from his face. Bending down to her knees, she whispered softly but clearly into the man's ear, "I forgive you, Gong Yu."

Simultaneously with these words of approval, the salesman finished, dirtying his underwear and expensive pants. The discharge went through his entire body, and he instinctively pressed his wife's leg closer to his cumming cock. Now he looks even more pathetic – all sweaty, red-faced, breathing heavily. Fingers dug deeper into his hair, gently scratching his scalp. His mind gradually returned to him, and embarrassment hit his head as hard as excitement had once done. His body went numb, and Gon lazily tried to push off the floor and stand on wobbly legs, but all attempts were prevented by the fatigue and pressure of his wife's legs and arms.

"Hush, honey," she got out of bed, turning her husband over so that he remained in the same position, except that his head was lying on the bed instead of on her legs. She took a couple of steps away, removed all the "improvised" materials from the bed and went behind the salesman and, taking off his pants and jacket, lifted him in her arms (almost bending in half). Throwing him on the bed, she undressed him completely, except for the boxer and left the room. Confusion and awkwardness rose to the moon, he tiredly leaned his head back on the pillow and, shuddering from the cold, began to wonder where she had gone. ** She returned in less than half a minute with a wet towel in her hands and clean men's underwear. The recruiter awkwardly covered his eyes with his forearm as she wiped the places where his sperm got into, in particular his penis. Then she threw the boxers at him–change yourself, be kind–and with that she went behind the screen to change herself.  With shaking hands, he pulled off his dirty underwear and put on the ones his wife had kindly brought. The man was about to get up to put on his pajamas and take a shower, but he was interrupted by the sound of the chandelier turning off and the feeling of the bed warming up next to him – I'm tired and I want to sleep, lie back down. I'm not going to let you go anywhere from me again for the next ten hours. Gong Yu exhaled guiltily and got back into bed. ** She moved closer to him, resting her head on his bare chest.

"I'm sorry..

"Shut up, I've already told you that I forgive you," the girl felt a hand touching her waist.

- Today was an important date, the salesman said, half–asking, half-asserting.

- No, do you really need an excuse to spend time with me in a pleasant home environment?

- no. You're right, I'm sorry....  He was lost in thought again, returning to her words about his work. "What... did they tell you about my work?"  Gon asked the next question carefully, probing the ground.

"Eh?" Nothing. I told you to tease you, and it worked out great," she giggled, snuggling even closer, "as long as you get home on time, I don't care.

- That's how it is.. – he breathed out a sigh of relief, kissing *** on the top of his head – yes, you did it wonderfully. You were so damn hot.

- I'm glad you appreciated it. But I won't repeat it. Well, not this week for sure – she pouted her pink lips (not sexual) – being rude is so exhausting, how do you deal with it at night?

"What a pity. I liked. If not this week, then next week, it doesn't matter when, but it must happen again.

Today, everything that could have gone out of his control. He didn't take a shower or put on his favorite pajamas. His wife fucked his brains out with a gun.

Maybe losing control over something is not always unpleasant.

Especially when, even with loss, you remain perfect.

[little-murmaider]

(A little WIP Wednesday (On A Thursday) because moments after completing AOTD for the first time I launched into an intense in-depth Skwisgaar character study, Obviously.)

“I know what’cher doin’.”

“De works of t’ree men? Ja, what else ams new, cans we fockus?” He pushes Nathan’s reading glasses up the slope of his nose and into his hair. “Dere’s somet’ings abouts dis chords progression dat’s not gelling for mes…”

Skwisgaar glances up. Pickles has pivoted to face away from his kit, hunched over, forearms resting on his thighs. His Rock Talk pose. Goddamnit.

“Whats.”

“Yer checkin’ in on everybahdy.” He flicks his wrist in the space between them. “Dis is a check-in.”

“De songs gots to gets done, does it nots?” He dodges. Pickles doesn’t buy it. He rises, idly scratching the side of his neck with the end of his drumstick.

“Sure,” he drawls, ambling over to where Skwisgaar is cross-legged on the ground. “Butcha saught me out t’work on th’sahng right after Nathan screamed at me t’go fuck myself.”

“Did dat happens?” Skwisgaar shoots for airy innocence and misses by a mile.

Pickles plops down in front of him. “I’m just sayin’ yer timin’s nyeeeehhhhhhhh a l’il suspect.”

“Mine timings am imppecables,” he snaps. “Ams always where I needs to bes.”

Pickles’s mouth stretches in that stupid, sideways, Cheshire Cat-like grin, polishing his front teeth his tongue—FUCK Skwisgaar walked right into that one.

“Musickallys,” he adds, pathetically.

“Dood, y’wanna talk about naht new? Dis is naht new. You actin’ all—”

He extends his arms out to full length and tips back, dropping his voice and crossing his eyes.

“YYYYYUUUUUUEEEEEGHHHHHHHH Gets Away From Mes I Hates You Peoples while sneakin’ around makin’ sure all’a us are okey? Y’think I don’ notice dat?”

“I t’inks de lack of access to drugs ams giving you brain damage.”

“Y’might be able t’fool dese other dooshbeegs, but y’ceen’t fool me. I’ve had ya klocked—and I’m sayin’ clock wit’ a k, t’be clear—since ya braught det Norwegian riff-raff into our lives.”

“When dids you becomes de type of guys what say riff-raff?”

“I see ya, Skwis. I’ve always seen ya.”

“Ooooooh does yous?” There was a time where the one-two punch of his withering tone and devastating eye roll would reduce a man to ash. But it’s been a rough few years. He’s gotten soft. His roller shoulders and rapid-fire arpeggios betray him. “And whats eggs-acktly ams you seeing wif dem beady littles badger eyes?”

The toe of Pickles sneaker brushes Skwisgaar’s ankle and he fights off a flinch.

“Dat despite yer best efforts.” His voice is too familiar, too fond. He scooches closer. “Yer a good guy, Skwigelf.”

Skwisgaar scoffs. The metal strings sting against his callouses, blood pooling hot in the ends of his fingers, and something must be wrong with his hookup because there’s a high pitch whine in his ears and a buzz in his chest and they need to finish the song the song’s not done they need to get it done—

“Skwisgaar.”

The pinch of Pickles’s thumb and forefinger on Skwisgaar’s jaw shocks a gasp out of him, the guitar clattering to the ground with a CLANG. Skwisgaar’s jolts, involuntary, but Pickles’s hold is firm.

“Look at me.” His voice is level, his gaze bright and a little watery, pinning him to the spot. “You are good, Skwisgaar.”

And, well.

He doesn’t know why this, out of everything, is what gets him. He’s been more than a little unnerved by the Pickles is Band Mom thing, mostly because he already has a mom and he actually likes Pickles, but here is his friend, at the end of the world, saying the words he has always, always wanted to hear, and the gossamer bubble of emotion that’s been swelling against his ribs these last few months, at last, bursts.

Distantly he hears his breath hitch, feels tears stream down his cheeks. He’s an embarrassingly ugly crier so when so when he’s crushed into Pickles’s chest, when he inhales that familiar scent of hair wax and old weed and something uniquely Pickles (how does he smell wet he always smells wet) he curls his arms around his waist and sobs.

[ethereousdelirious]

Sicktember 2023 Day 7

Prompt: "You're a jerk when you're sick

Fandom: Bl.ack B.utler

Characters: W.illiam, R.onald

Wordcount: 1,190

Notes: CW for child death (not terribly graphic, but happens on-screen [so to speak])

Heartless.

It was one of those words that girls flung at Ronald from time to time. Heartless, callous, cruel, faithless. It wasn't the sort of thing he identified with, not really. He just liked to have a good time, that was all. It wasn't his fault that girls misunderstood from time to time.

Shivering on the bank of the Thames, blinking in the thick snowfall, he saw heartless.

Heartless stood tall and slender, fine figure clothed in black. Hardened phosphorescent eyes scowled behind water-spotted glasses, full lips pulled down into an unimpressed frown. He stood unmoved by the shrieks of the children who scrambled on the thin ice, desperate to get away from the sudden blizzard upon them, terrified by the cracking beneath their feet.

Heartless had a name, and it was William T Spears.

Even Ronald, who was incurably given to levity of spirit, could not help the miserable wave of nausea that crashed over him as he watched the little figures skitter across the ice. He shivered and shoved his hands further into his pockets, tucking his elbows against his sides.

William, ordinarily so unflappable in his black suits, drew back into his long coat and shuddered. He was ill, Ronald knew, suffering from a cold in his head that has rendered him particularly reclusive over the prior days. But was it the cold weather or the ice inside his heart that had rendered him so?

A sneeze bent him double, then another. He really shouldn't have been outdoors, but the sudden cold snap had rendered the To-Die List longer than ever and his assistance had become absolutely necessary.

"Alright?" Ronald asked, alarmed.

"Fine." William's tone left no room for argument.

Ronald shifted. "This doesn't feel right," he said, half-hating himself for it. How could he be expected to watch these little children fighting for their lives and not feel anything for them? There was a certain poetic beauty when a young woman died, a sort of macabre quality that rendered the tragedy somewhat more bearable. But children? Innocent children?

"Your assignment wasn't to feel," William snapped at once. The snow that had melted in his hair had loosened his pomade and sneezing had sent a few strands forward to rest upon his brow. His voice and breathing were both heavy, labored with illness. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself unless you have something constructive to say."

Ronald eased back into lightheartedness, raising both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. But if I might, boss, you're…"

William's stare turned icier than the weather, one eyebrow cocking. A vein pulsed at his temple, lips pulled into an unamused line.

A breathy, sheepish laugh raced over Ronald's lips. "Oh, never mind."

William sneezed again, sharp and vocal. A little expulsion of air followed, something Ronald probably wasn't meant to hear— a quivering note of discomfort catching on the wind.

Down the river, the ice cracked. The children screamed.

Ronald twitched and promptly met the frozen metal of William's Death Scythe. It struck him across the chest, hard enough to sting. "Don't interfere," William snapped.

"You're mean when you're sick," Ronald muttered.

"Call it what you like," William retorted, but he lowered his Death Scythe.

Ronald studied him to avoid watching the children in the water. William's severe features were highlighted in pink: it rimmed his eyes and nose, made splotches on his cheeks, traced the outlines of his parted lips and spilled inward to color them. The rest of him was pale with cold and illness and the dark half-circles under his eyes made him appear hollow, ephemeral, winter personified.

William sniffled. "You're staring at me."

"Sorry, sir." Ronald rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. "It's just… you don't look very well."

"I think you'll find that doesn't matter," William said.

A deadly silence rang out between the two of them. The sounds of struggling had stopped.

Ronald shuddered, and not with the cold though the breeze still carried fat snowflakes upon its broad back.

William's footsteps crunched in the snow; he set a brisk pace with his Death Scythe braced against his shoulder like a soldier.

"I can…" Ronald began weakly. He cleared his throat. "If you need to rest, I can handle this."

"It will go faster if we both work."

"Right you are."

Five little bodies bobbed amongst the ice floes. William pulled them over one by one, expertly maneuvering his Scythe. At the last, the smallest, he made a brief, pained noise and bent double and for the briefest of moments, Ronald stood in awe at this display of emotion. But of course, it wasn't that, not at all. William sneezed into his wrist, so many times that he snatched his glasses off and buried his face entirely in his sleeve. And when the fit ended, he staggered as though dizzy, his chest heaving.

"Alright, boss?"

William restored his glasses, his expression betraying nothing but irritation. "You needn't ask me that every time."

"Yes, sir." Ronald planted his own Death Scythe on the nearest corpse and shoved his emotions to the back of his mind.

The pages of the To-Die List whipped in the wind. Ronald watched, hands in his pockets, as William hunched over and tried to flip to the right section. His shaking hands further impeded the enterprise and even Ronald's font of patience had run dry by this point. "Let's go somewhere warm!" he yelled over the wind.

Surprisingly, William acquiesced.

Neither one of them talked on the miserable trudge back to town. Ronald didn't even bother to glance at William for approval before falling through the door of the first public house they came across.

The relief was immediate; the warmth washed over him like an embrace. The place was not overly-crowded despite the weather so Ronald made a beeline for a table close to the fire. His good cheer returned almost at once as the feeling slowly began to creep back into his fingers and toes. He wiped the fog off his glasses, smiling. "This is better, isn't it?"

"Must I remind you that we're here to work?" William asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.

Ronald glanced at him and raised his eyebrows in alarm. Though his demeanor hadn't changed one iota, William certainly looked worse for wear. The pink chill on his cheeks was fading rapidly, leaving only pallor in its wake. Where Ronald's shivers were subsiding, William's only seemed to be growing stronger.

"Here, sit down."

"I mean it; we shan't linger here longer than is absolutely necessary."

"I understand that, but…" Ronald bit his lip.

William sat and took out the To-Die List and a steel pen. He nearly dropped the pen, tremors running down his arms rendering him visibly unsteady. He only sighed as though it were a minor inconvenience.

"I don't want to overstep," Ronald said hesitantly, watching William continue to struggle, "but I think you'd better go home." 'If you can make it there,' he carefully did not add. "I can take the list back to the office."

"Yes," William said softly, his eyes fixed on the page, "I think that would be wise."

[siderealcity]

Narrative Sense

Okay, this is eventually going to become a post about Dragonsong, and maybe Stormblood, but to start with, it's going to be a discussion of the peculiar form of non-logical sense that stories have. You could call this "emotional sense," or "vibes," maybe, but I'm going to call this "narrative sense," because it's not 100% emotion-driven, and it's not logical, but it's the way things make sense because they're in a story.

In its simplest form, narrative sense is the way things work in a fairy tale. Cinderella must leave the party by midnight because the enchantment will end then. Does that make logical sense? No. Do we need to get a full explanation of the rules of fairy magic to accept that limitation? No. We accept that magic will have abrupt, maybe harsh limitations, just like we accept that if you look the monster in the eyes it will get you, or if you hold your breath passing a graveyard, you'll be safe from ghosts. We believe, on some fundamental, instinctive level, that we are bargaining with the universe on terms that we don't fully grasp, and we're prepared to accept that you can pay for a miracle with seven years of silence (with occasional screaming into a hole in the ground not counted against you.)

We expect stories to obey the rules of this negotiation far more strictly than we do reality. Which is not to say that characters can't lose or fail, but rather, that we expect that if they are going to lose or fail it's because they broke the terms of the agreement. This is pretty much the entire way the horror genre is structured. Characters are tested on subjects they didn't know they ever needed to study, and when they get things wrong, they die. Is that fair? No. But it feels understandable. As opposed to reality, where terrible things happen to people for no reason.

Likewise, if they're going to win, they have to earn it. They must have paid the price for happiness before it could be delivered. Or someone must have paid it, at least.

And now we get to Dragonsong. Spoilers ahead.

Okay, so I mentioned before when talking about Ysayle, that Estinien is the most Obviously Doomed Character in the history of characters. And he might as well be wearing a Tragic Hero t-shirt over his drachen mail. For all of Heavensward, he is the voice of Ishgard's side in the Dragonsong War. He's the dragon-killer who wants revenge on Nidhogg, he's the embodiment of a thousand years of people who've suffered from Nidhogg's wrath. The people who don't know anything about Ratatoskr and never did. The other innocent victims of the war.

As a character, he is the outrage of a people who have been wronged. It aligns him perfectly with Nidhogg, and that's why they make such a nice, neat pair. The mortal expression of grief and rage, and the immortal one. Of course they're destined to destroy one another. In most stories, that's how they find redemption. Outrage doesn't get to be put away when it's finished. In Narrative Sense, the revenge-seeker gets what they want and dies because that's how they pay for their victory. And who would they be afterward, if they survived anyway? Vengeance was their character. And that character's purpose ended. They have nowhere to go and no one to be once their role in the story is done.

If you did the Dragoon job quests before starting Heavensward, then you know that the eye is eventually going to overwhelm him. He starts out the cutscene asking you to fight Vishap with, "Don't worry, I'm not here to fight you again." You knew it was coming sooner or later.

So it's entirely unsurprising that he's transformed at Azys Lla. Again, it makes perfect narrative sense. You've already destroyed Nidhogg, the draconian side of the anger fueling the war. You've destroyed Thordan, and through him the Ishgardian Orthodox Church, the force that pitted Nidhogg against the people in the first place, and profited off the suffering of both sides. Of course you still have to fight the anger of the common folk. Because it doesn't matter that Nidhogg's outrage was initially justified, so was theirs. Their desire for revenge has to find an end, too.

The expectation set up from the moment of the transformation, and reinforced constantly is that Estinien will die with Nidhogg. That's just how it makes sense. And it ties into the larger theme of the game's story: Where do we get salvation from? What are we prepared to sacrifice for it? For whom do you fight? And what do you believe in? Estinien is meant to be the sacrifice that ends the thousand-year-long war. He is the collective anger of the innocent people of Ishgard, and he's now fused with the immortal, undying anger of the dragons over Ratatoskr's murder. There is no other way to end the song than his death.

Isn't there?

It's the revelation that the Scions still want to save Estinien that convinces Hraesvelgr to finally act. Because he knows how these stories end. How they always end. Midgardsormr traded his life for his childrens' future. Shiva gave her life so their souls could be together. Ysayle gave her life to save her friends. Victory always comes with a cost. So why even pursue it? What makes the victory worth the price you have to pay for it? It's a taste of the nihilism we'll get with Fandaniel and Hermes later. If suffering is the inevitable outcome of everything you do, why try for anything better?

But in the narrative sense, the price for victory has already been paid.

Not by Estinien, but by The Warrior of Light. Our losses along the way have paid the narrative cost for his rescue. Haurchefant, and Ysayle, and Minfilia have all been taken from us, not through any fault of our own, not by choice, even though we have followed the rules of the narrative to the letter, and now the narrative owes us something. And if we didn't get that feeling already, the ghosts of Haurchefant and Ysayle, the characters representing love and redemption, appear and literally give us the strength to pry the eyes from Estinien's armor in the end, freeing him both literally and figuratively from being the avatar of vengeance.

This is why he finally takes his helmet off only after everything is done. When he's no longer the Azure Dragoon, or the representation of righteous anger. When his part in the story is over. He couldn't do it before, but now that his character, the character of vengeance has died, he can be reborn as just Estinien.

[hellvar]

HOW DOES HE CARRY EMOTIONS?

ANGER : jaw clenching,  hands balling into fists,  teeth grinding,  yelling,  going nonverbal,  stuttering speech,  rushed speech,  slow concise speech,  rambling,  quiet,  arms crossing,  shaking head,  tearing up,  animated,  expressionless,  projects,  internalizes,  vents,  withdraws,  passive aggressive,  direct,  physical outbursts,  verbal outbursts

JOY : easy smiles,  fighting back grins,  suppressed laughter,  loud laughter,  giggles,  chuckling,  smirks,  whole body laughs,  covers mouth when laughing/giggling,  throws head back when laughing,  slaps leg,  touches people around them when laughing,  looks down when laughing,  looks for eye contact when laughing,  sparkling eyes,  bubbly happiness,  quiet subtle happiness, obnoxious happiness,  wants to spread joy,  quietly savors joy

SADNESS :  crying,  bottling it up,  seeks distractions,  wallows,  meditates and processes,  avoidance,  seeks out comfort,  withdraws,  talks it out,  internalizes it,  sad smiles,  depression naps,  uses alcohol,  uses drugs,  seeks out sources of joy,  fidgets with sentimental item,  sits in silence,  broods,  gets moody,  wants someone to share the misery,  tries to hide negative emotions,  nurtures others to make themselves feel better

EMBARRASSMENT/SHAME :  blushing,  looking away,  rubbing at back of head, covering face,  laughing nervously,  laughs it off,  overthinks,  lets it go, self deprecating humor,  deflects,  gets irritated,  smiles,  withdraws,  crossing arms over stomach, crossing arms over chest,  hands in pockets,  shoulders sinking,  shrugs,  falling into silence until comfortable again,  talking a lot to compensate

GUILT : avoiding eye contact,  shoulders sinking low,  head hanging down,  crying,  chest aches,  lashes out,  internalizes,  apologizes,  deflects,  communicates, withdraws,  grand gestures for forgiveness,  accepts fault easily,  punishes themselves, martyrdom,  victim complex,  guilt complex,  healthy conscience,  internalizes even after forgiveness,  SEEKING REDEMPTION, moves on easily,  denial,  lack of guilt/conscience,  sorry they got caught more than caused harm,  can’t handle knowing they hurt others

FEAR/ANXIETY : trembling,  crying,  sarcasm/sass to cope,  rambles,  goes silent,  gets angry,  fidgeting,  clenching jaw,  picking at nails,  chewing at lip,  pulling at clothes,  adjusting jewelry/clothing,  swallowing thickly,  eyes widening,  over-reacts,  under-reacts,  calm,  logical,  panic,  irrational,  overthinks,  carefully analyzes,  talks to themselves,  breathing exercises,  flight,  fight,  withdraw

tagged by:  stole it from @shufire​ <3 tagging: you if you’re so inclined!

[dreamedfyre-a]

when she was a very little i think helaena definitely tried to reach out to viserys (show her father cool bugs she found. attempt to start games and playing to some extent. ask for stories from old valyria even which is where she mght have been a little bit successful on occasion) i don't think he'd really entertain her and that from a young age she would hear from people around that he is busy, he is the king, he has important things to do (even if he was just playing with his lego set). and although little helaena might've believed he was just very busy, she's quite clever and it wouldn't take long for her to notice his disregard was rather plain. at some point any effort simply stopped, and any contact with viserys became pure formality.

i also think in his worse years he would sometimes call her rhaenyra as he did with her mother and queen aemma, and funnily* enough, it would be when mistaking his younger daughter for his eldest that he'd be the most affectionate he ever was to her. which isn't really to her considering he believes she's her sister. certainly not hurtful or damaging at all!

by the time he dies, she quite frankly doesn't care. she doesn't even care enough to pretend she cares, as i think is evident by the fact she's peacefully having breakfast with her children when people are looking for aegon because their father is dead. there's no sorrow at all, and she doesn't even feel bad about not caring he's dead. helaena would dread more and be more sad about what this means for all of them and what they need to do than for the man. or the king, because she doesn't think he did a particularly good job there either

[beatrcis-blog]

tag drop !!

i ━━ ❛ : ( she waits. seething. blooming; threads. ) ii ━━  ❛ : ( innocence died screaming ━ i should know; musings. ) iii ━━  ❛ : ( lick your wounds; mirror. ) iv ━━  ❛ : ( the feeling of being fully alive; parallels. ) v ━━  ❛ : ( you'd look good in a grave; ask memes. ) vi ━━  ❛ : ( character study; tasks. )

[at-hauntrcss]

tag drop!

[islecarded]

♡ ‣ ❝ IN CHARACTER ›   INNOCENCE DIED SCREAMING ♡ ‣ ❝ STUDY ›   ANGER WAS BETTER THAN TEARS ♡ ‣ ❝ VISUALS ›   BARE THOSE TEETH AND SNARL  

[authorluvgxbby]

Heyy :)), I saw your requests open and I was wondering if you can write up some tokyo rev headcanons for this scenario:

Chracter visits reader's house for 'studying' but when the enter the house they are immediately greeted by a huge ass doberman dog who's looking at them like they murdered their mom. And reader's just like : whuehue they don't bite :))

(I just went into my bestie's house and they didn't inform me their cousin and their dog was visiting and I felt like I almost died like three times when the dog tried to tackle me, like their paws are literally up my shoulder and their slobber was all over my face. The owner's just like 'oh he's an angel he just wanted to be friends with u' sir you don't know how to speak dog how do you know if it's actually telling me to prepare my prayers? Shdhgdhdgd sorry for oversharing but I just wanted to tell u where this came from and I also want to see others suffer the same thing. Thankss ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️)

A/N: Of course, thank you so much for the request❤️ I laughed so hard while writing this 😂 It was so much fun to do. Here you go luv, I hope you like it!

Characters: Ran, Takemichi, Shinichiro, Baji, Chifuyu

Ran

The poor bastard never expected to be face-to-face with your personal bloodhound and it was all Rindou’s fault. The younger haitani was used to coming over your house and he knew you had a dog, so when Ran told him he’d be “borrowing” you for the night to study, best believe he made sure not to mention a word about the canine that guarded you and your house.

Was screaming like a little girl when the dog started barking as it towered over him, looking like it was ready to make the lanky male its next chew toy.

He thought that if he was going to die, he’d make sure he didn't get his face messed up too bad.

“ANYTHING BUT THE FACE!”

While Ran was screaming bloody murder and begging for his life to a hundred pound dog, you were innocently watching the whole commotion through the home camera that was installed.

“Y/n why the fuck do you have that demonic mutt in your house?!” “ ‘Demonic’? He’s a sweetheart, he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

Ran believed that it was utter bullshit, especially after he almost had his gorgeous face mauled.

No matter how much you reassured him, he didn’t dare come near the dog.

Complained that he could’ve died because you nor Rindou told him that you had a dog.

He spends the whole night fighting with the dog for your attention and when it would get too close to him, he would use you as a shield.

He definitely considered the idea of poisoning it at some point.

When it was time to leave he made a mental note to murder Rindou when he saw him after putting him in a near-death experience.

Takemichi

The poor soul passed out right then and there when he was face to face with your “human friendly” pet.

Chifuyu suggested that he should get some ‘tutoring’ from you since he was struggling so much in class.

His friend was an idiot, so of course he forgot to mention that the pet you had was a Doberman.

His screams were definitely mistaken for a little girl’s scream. The whole neighborhood could hear him.

When you come to see what is happening, you see Takemichi knocked out cold while your dog covers him in drool as he licks his face.

“A-am I dead?” “No, you idiot! My baby would never hurt someone!”

Genuinely thought you were crazy to think something as big as your Doberman wouldn’t jump at the chance to chew his limbs off.

He makes up an excuse that he was just stopping by and didn’t need any tutoring.

Cries to Chifuyu that he almost died because of him.

“If I die, I’ll make sure I drag you to hell with me!” Quoted a teary-eyed Takemitchy.

Shinichiro

The older Sano just wanted to spend some time with you after a stressful day, but was thrown into despair after seeing a Doberman greet him in your living room.

The poor soul gets chased around your house for a whole hour before you come home to see him hitting your dog with a pillow.

“Y/n! Thank god! PLEASE HELP ME!” 

When you explain to him that you recently had gotten a dog for extra protection, it made him offended. Why get a dog when you have someone that would protect you with their life? Let alone someone who has a whole gang backing him up.

He would complain that you could’ve gotten a medium sized dog instead of asking hell for one of its' bloodhounds to be your canine companion. 

When he tries to smoke, the dog would growl at him as a warning not to smoke around you.

When he tells Wakasa and Benkei about what had happened, they admit that they also had similar encounters with your dog. They secretly made a pack that if they were to encounter your dog without you around again, they’d fight it off together. 

“If one of us goes down, then we all go down” - Shinichiro.

One day, he brought his siblings over to your house with him and your dog instantly fell in love with the two. (Complained later on that the dog was trying to replace him)

Manjiro and Emma teased him for being a wimp and he had threatened to feed them to the dog, but ended up almost having his hand bitten off afterwards.

Baji

He was used to dealing with animals at the pet shop, especially angry cats, but dealing with a huge ass Doberman was a different story.

The moment he walks in your house, he is greeted with your angry-looking Doberman with small bits of meat decorating its teeth.

He genuinely thought you had been eaten by it.

In an attempt to get away, he throws his backpack at it while running out the door.

He ends up bumping into you and is relieved yet confused at the same time.

It takes you two whole hours just to get him to calm down.

“He doesn’t bite Baji!” “You weren’t the one that thought it ate their friend.”

When he sees Chifuyu at the pet shop, he makes sure that they don’t end up taking in any big dogs like the one he had encountered with you.

Has nightmares about his cats getting murdered by your dog for the next two weeks.

Chifuyu

Similar to Baji, Chifuyu is an expert at handling animals, but not huge dogs.

You and him were studying for an upcoming exam and you had forgotten that you needed to feed your dog.

Now, in Chifuyu’s mind he thinks you have one of those small-sized puppies girl’s usually like. But, he’s proven wrong when you come back with a huge Doberman following behind you, already eyeing Chifuyu as his dinner.

At the moment, it looked like you were going to feed him to the dog.

He starts to beg for forgiveness for whatever he’s done wrong to make you want to use him as a human sacrifice. 

Goes on and on about stuff he did wrong while clinging on to your leg. 

Poor Chifuyu was in a state of panic, until you shook him hard enough for him to get his act together.

“Chifuyu he’s trained, he won’t eat you.” “Last time I checked you don’t speak dog language! What if he plans to eat me behind your back!”

He thinks it’s jealous of him because you guys are close.

Forces you to come over his house if you want to see Peke J. because he firmly believes your dog will try to murder his cat out of spite.

Wanted Baji to suffer the same thing he went through, but ended up getting the shit beat out of him afterwards.