#Beating a man to death is traumatising | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pseudowho · 10 months ago

Text

Calamus et Gladius

(help me find the Higuruma artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

Stolen from a foreign army to participate in the Culling Game, speaking little to no Japanese with just a rifle for self-defence, the reader partakes in a bittersweet dance of death and love, with Higuruma Hiromi.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lovers, murder, use of firearms, the desperate smut of two traumatised people who fall hopelessly in love.

This is long, but I make no apologies, because the payoff is worth it.

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You were used to violence. You were used to senseless bloodshed. Used to rains of bullets, flinging shrapnel, your ears ringing with explosions and screams.

Yet, it was your own screams that rang through you, as an enormous gavel split the earth where you had just stood.

Your entire unit was dead, almost fifty men and women lured into Tokyo Colony One, and you scrabbled back on grazed hands, kicking feet, as this ink-haired monster stepped slowly through the rubble and gore, black eyes fixed on you with the rage and fervour of a justified killer.

He appeared to hesitate only briefly as your face crumpled up at him in tearful rage and despair, desperation. You did not move to grab the rifle on your back; a threat of retaliation would be your downfall.

Despite being the only one of your unit who had had something new, something alien awakened within them, you had developed no fantastical technique. You had no mystical weapon. You had no roiling blue flames engulfing your fists. You had only the ability to sense others like you, and the horrifying stop-motion beasts that now sullied your sight. It was enough, at least, to hide.

"Please-- please--" you begged, the last attempt of a cornered woman. Your back pressed against the wall, the wide street around you a no-man's land of rubble, overturned cars and bloody splatters. The man's hand tightened on his gavel, his other raising to swipe flicks of black fringe off his forehead. He frowned, stopping. You noticed his distinctive hooked nose, crinkling in disgust.

"English," he offered, thickly accented, neither a question or a statement. You gulped, nodding with urgency, any dialogue an opportunity to re-establish his humanity.

"Innocent," you insisted, hands raised in front of you, disarming, "I'm innocent." That word, the man seemed to recognise, and he blew air through his nose, snorting in mirth.

"Innocent?" He asked, sarcastic.

He knelt down in front of you, his eyes still offering no mercy, but he spoke to you so conversationally. He reached one long finger out, tapping the rifle on your back, coming back round to stroke you teasingly along the side of your cheek, holding it so tenderly. His words washed over you, meaningless, until you caught one you could understand as he stood up.

"...sorry." His arm raised, the head of the gavel blocking out the sun, and you took your chance.

Your hand darted, and you flung a handful of brick dust into his eyes as he spat, staggered, cursing. You brought the butt of your rifle round to slam into the side of his head, and although he barely faltered, you ran for your life, darting down alleys, your heart bursting in your ears.

You heard no footsteps chasing you. He could have...but he didn't.

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Just one easy kill.

The others had all gone down so hard, Hiromi thought, stepping into his swing, barely missing the foreign woman, the gavel making a buckled crater in the tarmac instead. Hiromi tsked, annoyed, kissing his teeth. Watching her squirm on the floor to save her life, a worm from a bird, Hiromi's gut churned-- ugly.

Murder was so easy. The power to beat scum at their own game was intoxicating. Hiromi stepped after her, so far removed from his old self. His usual self? He wasn't sure.

His keen eyes built the woman's character, hawkish and unforgiving. Young...naive. Soldier...killer. No Japanese...lazy. Pleading...pathetic. Not fighting...coward. By the time she began to beg Hiromi, she was already barely human in his eyes. Swiping his hair upwards, and tightening his grip for the deathblow, he spat, "English."

She caught his eye, and Hiromi felt the barest seed of guilt in the back of his mind, an itch he could not scratch. She had nodded at him, tears brimming in her eyes, hands raised in placation.

"Innocent," the woman had insisted, "...innocent." Bile rose in Hiromi's throat at the familiar word, and the audacity she had to use it for herself, as if she wasn't rolling in the same pigshit as the rest of them. Hiromi's lip curled, smirking as he rubbed his nose with the side of one long finger.

"Innocent?" He stabbed. Hiromi knelt, talking at you as if you understood.

"What's that? You're the good guy, are you?" He mocked, reaching out to tap the rifle on your back, feeling you flinch beneath him, "Is it this, that makes you innocent, hmm?" He brought his hand to your cheek, stroking it with the blade of his finger, swiping away the tears that had cut a track through the dust and grime, "Or this pretty face, hmmm? Are those big, teary eyes what make you innocent? Don't make me laugh. You're scum, just like the rest of us. And natural law is at play here." He cupped your cheek once, squeezing it with the barest of sincerities in his apology as he stood.

"Sorry," Hiromi offered, lifting his gavel and feeling power churn through him, just and righteous as your executioner.

Hiromi cursed as he felt a spray of grit flung into his face, immediately disarmed by the sordid pain of sand in his eyes, further disorientated by the ear-ringing slam of something into the side of his head. He staggered, faltering.

"Oooh, you piece of shit," Hiromi cooed, vicious, spitting with venom, vision completely obscured as he tried in vain to clear his eyes. He felt you disappear, and he leaned against the wall, laughing despite himself at having been bested. He smiled, the barest tinge of admiration for your tenacity threading through him.

"Alright," Hiromi sniffed, rubbing his nose again as his vision began to clear, "catch you later, I suppose."

Hiromi tried to forget you. He tried to forget his humanity, but each life he took made him sicker, infected by this game.

Every time he closed his eyes, to sleep in some strange home-less, love-less bed, your eyes met his, impeaching him.

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Resources soon ran thin, for one who held no territory. You had your army pack, and rationed out your meagre foodstuffs, always hungry, always on-edge. You had never fought alone, in war.

You had managed to develop quite the skill at hiding, and concealed yourself, cloaked in plain sight, from even the most powerful of those left in the game. Every day that the stragglers were picked off, the stakes ran higher. Every explosive battle you ran from, dodging the falling debris thrown by titans, you felt your inherent value as an easy kill increasing.

You thought of the hook-nosed man who had let you go. Despite his willingness to kill you, you craved human contact, and found warmth in the memory of the heat of his gaze, his hand on your face, desperately trying to translate the words he had spoken to you as he caressed your cheek.

One dewy dawn, you had taken position on a sheltered rooftop, giving you equal measures concealment and oversight. With your rifle drawn, flat on your belly, you felt the ebbs and wanes of a familiar power draw closer. Curiously, it made your belly clench, eager to see the man who could have chased you, but didn't. You were itching to know why. Itching to behold him again.

Your heart leapt as he stepped into the street, at least four stories below you. Even from this distance, you could see the intensity of his furrowed brow, the noble bearing of his shoulders beneath a great black overcoat. His tie hung, dishevelled, loose-knotted. He was hunting.

He paused, tiptoed on a breath...before rolling, gracefully dodging as a knife of Cursed energy ricocheted through the street, splitting it. You gasped, your eye moving away from your rifle lens, watching in awe as he took to battle with another man. While he seemed to hold his own, he appeared distracted, and was buffeted, winded by an almighty hit, knocked onto his back, elbows on the ground.

A strange panic overtook you as your hook-nosed man's assailant bore down on him, power surging, preparing to murder--

-- a gunshot. A brittle, echoing bang. The assailant's head snapped forwards, and he fell, killed instantly, face first on the ground in front of your hook-nosed man.

He panted, his face sprayed with blood. With a few owlish blinks, his eyes tracked upwards. You held your breath, adrenaline coursing through you. As the man stood, eyes fixed on you (in rage? murderous intent? thanks?), you jolted to life and took aim on him.

He did not raise his hands. There was no standoff, as he made no move to save his own life. In the moment that he accepted his death for the attempt he had made on yours, something in you both softened, seeing each other as you saw no others. A gentle impasse. The intimacy of differentiation.

It took everything you had in you to break eye contact, and run.

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Hiromi mulled beneath the shaky warning of your rifle.

You were afraid, he thought as he gazed up at you, so sickeningly grateful for having been chosen by you. The mist of his opponent's blood drifting through the sunrise, picked Hiromi out as somehow preferable, in your mind.

And, why should you not be afraid? He saw you beneath him, again, your eyes soft and begging him for mercy. You had been defenceless and entirely in his palm. He had been relieved, he recalled, that he could kill someone easily. The begging made you passive. Hiromi could have vomitted, sickened by himself.

He stood, arms raised slightly to his sides, his profile illuminated by sweet morning sun, waiting for death to take his hand.

Hiromi felt embraced by your eyes. Wanted. Some companionship, in death...until you refused him his end. The red string between you both seemed to snap as you broke eye contact and ran.

Alone, as the sun broke above the skyline, Hiromi whispered; "Thank you."

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There was no way out. Starving and desperate, days had passed since you had saved your hook-nosed man, and you had crept through haunted streets to a convenience store, unusually well-stocked with food and drink.

You bit your tongue for your own stupidity at having walked into such an obvious trap. No amount of being able to hide one's Cursed energy could compensate for being seen walking into the shop. Crouching now, behind shelves of ramen, tears trembled on your lashes, an aching lump in your throat.

You heard a mocking voice, cooing at you, laughing at you, and you blushed with indignant tearful injustice, not needing language to know when you were being assaulted for your sex. You were afraid of death. You were more afraid of being used beforehand.

With nowhere to hide, and no grit to throw, you tipped your head back and thought of those black embering eyes, holding you in his gaze.

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"Are you hungry?" The voice chirped, teasing, mean, "Come out, baby. I've got something here in my pocket you can taste." A filthy laugh. Slow, easy footsteps. Willing to rape you before he killed you. Hiromi felt himself burn with fury, ready to wring this man's neck with his own two hands.

Hiromi walked the streets easily, now. His power had come on in leaps and bounds, and he both trusted in his own abilities, and feared nothing of death. Not since you had held his life in your hands, and thrown it straight back in his face.

He was a disordered eater at the best of times, but, a sudden faintness from hunger sent him seeking food. Hiromi knew some dirty little spider had built a web at an abandoned store, and did not fear a man who sought to ensnare the desperate.

Let him try me, thought Hiromi as he approached, lit by the sickly orange glow of streetlights, and see where it gets him.

Just a few steps from the entrance, Hiromi paused mid-step, his heart hiccuping in his chest. It was you. Inside the store, your Cursed energy faltering and so overwhelmed by that of the spider. Hiromi's lips parted, to call for you, a hand in the dark. He stopped, gritting his teeth. No-- this would not do, he thought, as he began a hunt of his own.

The spider was so obviously distracted by excitement, thrilled to find a woman in his dirty little trap. He had found you, by the time Hiromi reached you, in time to see you flung, body smashing against the counter, curling and coughing. Hiromi stepped behind the spider, seething, overburdened with terrible strength.

You had looked up in time to see your hook-nosed man wind an arm round your assailant's neck, throttling him, dragging him backwards out of the store. The hook-nosed man's face was twisted, ugly with rage...and for what? For you?

If your Cursed-energy had been no match for that of your assailant, his was dwarfed by that of your rescuer. Still coughing, doubled over on your hands and knees, you crawled to the entrance, watching the streetlights flicker above your hook-nosed man as he choked the life out of your assailant, merciless in his conviction.

You knelt there, drinking in his profile, in that sickly orange glow. His sharply squared jaw. His black overcoat, shrouding him like Death itself. Panting and cursing as his arms shook, your assailant fighting weakly beneath him. Choking the life out of a man, a murder most intimate. For you. Killing, with his bare hands-- for you.

Time hung in suspended animation in these small hours. Your rescuer sighed, the tension releasing from his shoulders as he knelt back on his haunches. He appeared devoid of guilt, at having carried out his sentencing. Slowly, as if fearful of what he would see in your eyes, he turned to you, kneeling in the doorway of the shop.

Your eyes met. You studied each other in silence. He had a way of making you transparent. You had a way of making him exposed. His panting slowed, palms flush to his thighs, offering you a cautious smile, as your eyes glimmered in the dark.

"English," he spoke, by way of greeting.

"Nose," you returned. He frowned, uncertain.

"N..?"

You reached up to stroke your nose, and repeated, with a smile; "Nose."

His hand reached up to mirror yours, realising, and he burst into laughter, rich and genuine. You blushed, burying your face in your hands as he continued to laugh. He wiped his eyes, fingering the hook in his nose again, looking at you with those deep embering eyes that wholly undressed you.

"Nose," he repeated, chuckling, "Subarashī." Your bit your lip in mirth, looking anywhere but at him as he tried to catch your eye again, mischief twinkling in his.

Hiromi stood, stretching his shoulders back with a husky groan, tipping his neck from side to side. He stepped over to you, and you felt, ridiculously, so teenagerish as the odd duality of your hook-nosed man made your belly twist. You saw a long-fingered hand enter your line of sight. You looked at it questioningly. The fingers wiggled in invitation.

With a shaking hand, you took his. He pulled you up and smiled at you, swinging your hand briefly in his before releasing it, waiting for you to step into the shop before he followed. You browsed for food, as if Saturday-Night-Snack-Hunting as a couple, in safe silence.

Shivering as the adrenaline wore off, your stomach clenched with terrified nausea to hear explosions, shouts, drawing ever nearer in the street outside. Your hook-nosed man looked up, hangdog eyes wide, flicking from you, to the street, and back again. He gritted his teeth, bundling packets of food into the pockets of his overcoat.

You found yourself manhandled, his heavy coat suddenly on you. Your rescuer's hands moved deftly, smoothing the coat across your shoulders, searching for words, irritated by his intelligence in one language and his stupidity in another.

"Cold-- hungry-- go," Hiromi pressed in broken English, spinning you as you protested, urging you through the back door. You turned in the doorway, your eyes begging him to...what? To go with you? There was no time, no time--

Hiromi materialised his gavel, and crouched, snarling at you: "GO!" He roared, steeped in regret as you sprinted away, guarding your life like a child.

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Your hook-nosed man began to leave you breadcrumbs; tickets to safe havens, food, shelter, beds. You felt the vestiges of his Cursed-energy wherever you followed his trail, haunted by the path of devastation he left to build you sanctuaries.

Your dialogue budded, and combined with his notes and signs, you began to learn more about him. His notes, secreted away in scrawled English, street signs flipped to point in alternate directions, and crude maps drawn on dust-caked windows, all added colour and life to him.

Hiromi took a little joy, his cold heart popping to life, at the little hearts you drew in the dust; signs of acknowledgement, a tiny thrill.

You found yourself drawn to a bookstore, and scoured the shelves, looking for a particular something, a matching pair. You found hints of him in the pockets of the hook-nosed man's overcoat; a business card, in Japanese. A handkerchief, curiously embroidered with two gold initials-- H.H. A set of housekeys with a key-finder fob. A pair of chewed pens. You still thought of him as "Nose".

Hiromi still thought of you as "English", as he caught himself differentiating you from the others. Still steeped in this depression, this black-dog-misery and ugliness, he saw you, a light in the dark, who hid yourself to protect yourself as well as others, from needless violence.

They were all ugly...except, perhaps, for you.

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You sighed as you slipped into the hot bath, water up to your chin in the great, deep basin of this luxury hotel. You were impressed there was still a hot water supply, and you felt a gleeful coil of naughtiness, knowing you would never usually be able to afford to stay in such opulence, all marble tiles and gold taps.

Fighting for survival did not negate the fundamental craving for little joys, and you took advantage of the selection of complimentary soaps, scouring yourself free of grime with happy hums. You sang to yourself, quiet in the evening hush, just you and your languid splishing--

-- oh. A cautious approach. A familiar power. You clasped the lip of the bath, sinking your body under the water.

"...hello? Nose?" You called out. You heard the click of a lock, quick feet stepping in, locking the door behind him. A single held breath.

"...English?"

You blushed, pressing your lips to your knuckles, white from how tightly you gripped the bath. Hiromi's cheeks prickled faintly, hearing soft splashes from the bathroom, seeing your clothes discarded over the bed, your rifle leaning against it. You cleared your throat, wanting to talk, not knowing where to start.

"Mhm." Hiromi smiled at your little squeak, sitting with a groan and creaking knees, his back against the wall beside the bathroom door. Separated by this thin wall, he reached a hand around the doorway behind him. You giggled to see his long fingered hand offer you a jaunty wave.

"Konbanwa, English," he offered. He jolted to feel your little hand, warm and wet, squeeze his. His thumb grazed over your knuckles, smooth, examining, probing in a way that made your belly tight. You reluctantly released his fingers, humming in thought as you reached out of the bath into your backpack, searching for something.

Momentarily, Hiromi felt something gently tap the side of his head around the bathroom door, and he giggled, a noise which made you paddle your feet in delight. He reached up, taking a Japanese-English dictionary and phrasebook from your hand.

"Ahhhhh!" Hiromi hummed, genuinely thrilled, "Yoi aidea." He skimmed through the book, hunting again, and you paused, listening.

"Good idea!" He stated, confident, and he squirmed to hear you laugh at his janky pronunciation. Hiromi wanted so dearly to see you, to know you were uninjured, and instead scoured his little book again.

"Hurt?" He asked you. You softened, responding automatically.

"Ah...no, I'm...hmm," you flipped through your own book, "...uhm...daijōbu desu?"

Hiromi hummed, satisfied. You talked this way, for some time, gently brushing the outskirts of each others' language and personality. Hiromi corrected you. You corrected him. The bath grew cold. The light began to die behind the windows, casting you both in deep shadow and amber glow.

At some point, in the conversation, your hands had trailed together again. Hiromi now leaned sideways against the wall, his cheek pressed against it, eyes closed as his fingertips grazed the inside of your wrist.

You lay in the bath, shivering, feeling your heartbeat between your legs from such an innocent, intimate touch-- except, it did not feel innocent in intent. Perhaps, that was what made you squirm.

"Stay safe," Hiromi whispered to you, his fingers drawing circles on your palm, his next word crumpling your face with barely restrained tears, "Afraid."

Hiromi bit his lip in anguish, eyes squeezed shut to see you in his mind's eye, so desperately touch-starved as you pressed a kiss to his palm. He felt your lips remain, nose ghosting against his pulse. He imagined those lips on his own, and he was filled with an anxious need to taste you, to lift you from the bath, wrap you up in the bed and his arms, safe.

Fully distracted by thoughts of you and your sweet cries beneath his body, Hiromi almost missed you holding out your book to him, pressed open at the start-- and a name, your name, written neatly on the page. You offered this, all the while wanting to step to him from the bath, and offer him the feel of those clever fingers, examining the rest of your body.

"Oh..." Hiromi whispered, reverent, squeezing your hand as he swiped his thumb over the faint imprint of your written name, repeating it aloud slowly. Hearing him speak your name, almost had you climbing out of the bath and into his lap. You closed your eyes, imagining him crying it out as he peaked, buried deeply inside you. You burned with the urgent need to know him.

Just a few seconds later, Hiromi's hand reached round the corner, offering his own book back to you, with his own name written in your own alphabet, jolted and square.

"Higuruma...Hiromi?" He hummed, happily.

"Hiromi," you repeated, and he hummed again, delighted by your name on his lips. You tucked your dictionary away, thrilled, reaching for a towel.

"It suits you. I love it." Hiromi understood just one word you had uttered, and it sent joy creeping down his spine. He pressed his forehead against the wall.

Pull yourself together, Hiromi, he thought, it's just loneliness and desperation. Nothing else. No amount of logic and self-chastisement stopped his mouth from moving independently of his mind, as he flicked through your dictionary, imbued with your name.

"Bed. Stay. Please." Silence. Hiromi pressed the corner of the dictionary to his head, cursing himself under his breath. Idiot, pathetic little moron, stupid--

"Yes."

Hiromi's stomach swooped, missing a step, hearing you climb out of the bath. You steeled yourself, blushing furiously, to wrap a towel around yourself and pad out to the bedroom. Hiromi turned his back to you, but not before seeing the graceful curve of your leg, the wet cleavage of your breasts, the towel barely skimming the tops of your thighs. He breathed slowly, clawing back his self-control as you dressed behind him.

A long, slow whistle, belonging to neither of you, broke the silence, and your blood ran with ice water.

Voices spoke, Hiromi spitting threats, in this language that still gatekept against your understanding.

You jacked sideways, still topless, seizing your rifle as Hiromi demolished the doorway with a single wide swing of his gavel. You heard laughter from the corridor, and you hurriedly pulled your top and Hiromi's overcoat on, fixing your rifle on your shoulder to take aim.

Hiromi backed up to you, wrapping one arm behind himself and around you, fingers splayed against the small of your back. You understood none of the venom spat between Hiromi and this hidden assailant.

Your nerves on a knife-edge, you sensed movement behind the shattered brickwork of the doorway, and fired, a deafening blow in this enclosed space. A spray of blood and an enraged shout through the drifting plaster-cloud saw you hit your mark, and Hiromi exclaimed, shocked and delighted, squeezing your waist.

"I've seen better shots than that from her, bastard" Hiromi warned, "and if you think she's easy prey, you've got both of us to take down."

"Hiromi," you gasped, hyperventilating, "Hiromi-- Hiromi--"

Silence through the room; Hiromi's ears rang. He pocketed your dictionary, and grasped your cheeks, eyes fixed to yours and wordlessly reassuring you as he turned you towards him from the doorway. You felt your heart bounding in your chest, hands loosening on your rifle as you drank him in, breathed the same air, panting, together--

--it was all too fast. Hiromi's eyes fixing behind you. His panicked shout. Being thrown sideways onto the bed, a glassy smash, a scream that may have been your own--

Hiromi and your hunter plummeted in an outward spray of glass, two inky blots fading into the night.

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You had searched so desperately. Nothing could assure you Hiromi was still alive. There were no breadcrumbs left in the dust; nil but blood, and so much of it, beneath the shattered hotel window, so many stories up.

You had run your hands through it, clotted with the rubble, needing to feel him within the grisly spill-- alas. Too many residuals passed over this land. Too many battles fought, too many lives spent and saved, for clairvoyance to be what repaired your fractured heart.

You steeled yourself. Adversity goaded you to try harder. To do better. You took to the hunt yourself. You amassed points from potshots, hidden in curious places to execute nasty little opportunists who sought dominion over the weak.

While you had had no experience of the Kogane-- the odd, winged shikigami which acted as an interface between the players and the game-- in your passive state, they now became regular visitors, updating you of your points total. You had assumed they could not speak your language-- you were wrong.

Witnessing, from afar, one day, another player asking Kogane a question, your stomach rolled with nausea and hope as you called the black-tailed beast to you.

"Kogane?" The creature appeared with a pop. Your mouth opened, and closed, faltering over your words.

"Kogane, is-- is Hiromi Higuruma a player in the game?"

Silence-- and an answer; "Higuruma Hiromi is a player in the game--"

All of the air left your lungs in an enormous gasp, a heaving cry of relief as you doubled over, your hands cupped over your mouth and nose, tears streaming down around your fingers, before the Kogane had even finished giving its report.

"Thank you-- th--thank you, Kogane," you sobbed, blinded by your own tears. This tiny demon, to whom manners meant nothing, hung impassively. It disappeared with a pop as you spun away, cloaked with conviction.

You turned on a pinhead, cocking your rifle ready, and stalked off through the ruins; all of your steeling wisped away like ashes, your heart on the battlefield, knowing your vulnerability was out there, alive.

You decided now, with a smile at the thought of those beetle-black eyes, to hunt not for business, but for pleasure.

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Hiromi felt the damp all the way to his bones, in these heavy, wet clothes, made heavier still by the excruciating weight of his crimes. The theatre door swung closed behind him, and he leaned his back against the wall, crouching, the palms of his heels pressing so hard into his eyes that he was blinded by lights.

He had fallen beyond salvation, and it gnawed at the rotten wood of him, eating him alive. Feeling his brain judder, his tie too tight, the walls too close, the silence too deafening, Hiromi tried to collect himself. He pressed his palms to his thighs and breathed; in through his nose one two three four five and out through his mouth one two three four five.

Feeling his heart rate slow, full of equal parts light and dark, Hiromi called out into the gloom, straightening slowly.

"Kogane." The creature appeared with a pop, waiting, patient. Hiromi spoke your name, and then, hesitant--

"...is she a player in the game?" A heartbeat. Two. Three.

"Confirmed--"

Hiromi did not hear the rest, buckling to his haunches with a primal cry of gratitude, and a few moments of dry sobs as his fingers raked through his hair. Chest heaving, he breathed again, one two three four five, one two three four five.

In the space taken for one breath, Hiromi decided not to find you. You, who had always chosen not to fight. You, whose pleading eyes still haunted him. You could not be sullied by his rot.

Hiromi stepped out into the night, a porcelain man checkered with cracks, seeking only to rebuild a world worthy of you.

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He's here.

Climbing the stairs, fine piano music rang distant, its notes bittersweet, cherries in kirsch. Your feet carried you unbidden and you ascended, the notes becoming sweeter, feeling him, closer, playing this Siren's song.

Stepping into the doorway of the skyline bar, he must have felt your approach. The lights were low, refracted through a hundred hanging glasses, a hundred under-lit bottles of vim and vigour. The room sprawled out in an expansive, long C-shape, and your heart stuttered to see Hiromi at the end, pale fingers moving across the piano, white-shirt-shoulders burdened by the weight of his song.

You felt him build in the music as you approached, each note demanding more of him, and more and more and more and more--

There was only the briefest hitch in the music, barely perceptible, as you slid onto the bench beside Hiromi. He did not look up, his mouth set in a grim line, his eyes pressed tightly shut.

Consumed by the need to feel his skin on yours, you reached out, your hand ghosting over his. In a flash, Hiromi's hand darted up to grab yours, fingers tangled, as his other hand continued to move, playing this bisected song. A few moments passed, this way, with Hiromi pressing his lips and nose to your knuckles, his face contorted, conflicted-- pained.

"Go," he whispered, breath fanning over your hand, "bad."

"I...I don't--...bad?" You turned towards him, to hold him, and he jerked, twitching away from you, and you felt your heart tug along with him.

"No. Me. I...am bad." You shook your head, more and more fervent as Hiromi twisted away from you, quietly cursing, husky, tortured. He tried to release your hand, and you refused, plaiting your fingers in his, steadfast in a way that filled him with an animalistic urge to appreciate you.

You turned from him, your other hand resting upon the high keys, pressing gentle, uncertain notes. Overwhelmed by your closeness, and your insistent faith in him, Hiromi softened to watch your profile, backlit from the liquid glow of the bar. Your small hand, moving softly over the keys. Your heart beating like butterfly wings in your throat.

"No. Not bad. Lost. Lonely. Sabishī."

Every moment of belief you handed him, pulled Hiromi closer to the light. Swallowing thickly, he brought your joined hands to the keys, laying his palm over the back of yours, overlaying your fingers with his own. He pressed, soft insistent touches, on your fingers, guiding them to play. You felt your belly coil with odd pleasure, captivated by Hiromi's hands, all at once gentle and rough, smart and instinctual--

"Hiromi--"

"No. Stop." Hiromi tensed, his voice rough, fraying alongside his self-control. His hand shook over your own, the notes stopping now. Heat burst through you, certain he felt it too, this dangerous need, and his name forced its way out of you again, a challenge.

"Hiro--"

Hiromi spat venom again, growling and cursing as he stood, lifting you by the waist, sitting you upon the keys with a spray of notes, his arms shaking as they pressed beside you, trapping you in. Nose to nose, his breath on your lips, his face twisted with fury and need, Hiromi whispered to you.

"Stop. My name--" Hiromi shook, on his last thread, half a step away from using you--

When your hand snaked to his tie, tugging him closer, your other hand sinking into the back of his hair, Hiromi snapped.

His lips pressed to yours, hot and hungry, his body closing the rest of the distance to be flush between your thighs. Your mouth opened to him, feeling his urgency as he drank down your stolen breath, one hand tilting your head back to consume you, the other dragging through the plush rolls of your belly and hips.

Every kiss was hot and anguished, punctuated by Hiromi's low rolling voice, not needing language to feel the fervour and vice on his lips-- "--won't be gentle-- I'm sorry I-- I can't--"

You insisted your understanding on him the only way you knew how; fingers working his tie off and draping it round your own neck, locking your legs around him to press his aching cock against your core, undoing his shirt in a desperate flurry, all notes and fingers and tongues and moans.

You tasted rum in his mouth, all spice and brown sugar, and his hand wandered to your throat, feeling your pulse there before tilting you backwards, arched against the hood of the piano. With your head rested back, he spoke to you, shirt now unbuttoned to his navel, cock straining against the material below a trail of black hair.

"--making a mistake to let a monster put his mouth on you, English-- let's see what sounds you can make." Your khaki t-shirt was pulled off over your head, where Hiromi let it catch around your hands, twisting it to bind you. Hiromi kept you gripped this way, leaning over you, caging you in as he gripped the cups of your bra between his teeth, yanking them down to free your breasts.

Hiromi shuddered and moaned, feeling a drop of pre-cum soak into his boxers, as he flattened his tongue over your nipple, rolling, tasting, pulling you between his lips, nuzzling from side to side like an animal. You mewled, jutting your hips involuntarily, and Hiromi pressed back, pleasuring you with rough, sharp thrusts against your clothed pussy.

Hiromi leaned back, releasing your nipple with a hard suck, gazing down at where he fucked himself against you, mesmerised by the way you shivered and humped against his cock. Unabashed, his words falling over you like strange-eyed constellations, Hiromi fucked you with his voice--

"--cum like this, and I'll give you my fingers...cum like that, and I'll give you my tongue-- fuck, I'll eat you alive, you fucking goddess--"

As Hiromi spoke, all twisted rage and growls, his hips slammed into you, spurred on by your squeaks and whimpers, gripping the fat of your hips to ram your core against him. The pleasure was brutal, all harsh fabric friction and Hiromi's unrestrained adoration, and you tried to hold yourself together as you were dragged to orgasm, your frantic hands pressing disjointed chords on the keys beneath you.

Hiromi wanted to, needed to cum like this, with you, knowing he'd be able to continue fucking you after until he collapsed in your arms from exhaustion. Pausing only briefly to reach into his boxers, and angle his angry, throbbing cock upwards so the bulbous tip pressed between his waistband and belly, Hiromi's eyes rolled back in unadulterated ecstasy as he continued to fuck you against him.

You were both close, having been unfinished even by yourselves for weeks, and Hiromi's eyes burned into yours, feral with the need for you to finish with him, feeling your thighs tense around him as you babbled, fully understanding your meaning behind the nonsense--

"--gonna cum-- please-- Hiromi-- harder--"

You pressed back against the piano, arching with a high-pitched cry as hot pleasure burst through you, from your deeply aching clit outwards, crackling through your fingers, all white-hot sparks and embers. Watching you convulse against him, angling his hips to rut his trapped cock tip, feeling his thighs and belly set alight with the force of his orgasm, his hands planted either side of you, back twitching as he came with a bark.

Still riding the last waves of your orgasm, you watched him in fascination. The sight of Hiromi's cum spurting in long, white ropes onto his navel and yours, his agonised, fractured gasps, had you humping against the underside of his cock again, dragging out your peak to hear him whimper, cock twitching against your core. Your hand drifted to his belly, stroking the cum between your fingertips in a blissful haze, squeezing a thumb under the foreskin of his exposed cockhead, stroking his slit with his own lubrication.

Hiromi convulsed and growled at you, clasping your hand against him, dopey and shaking as you drank his reaction from his eyes, thumb still circling his cockhead, slippery with his seed.

"St--st--aaaaahhh..." You shushed Hiromi's weak cries, grazing your tongue over his lips, delighted as he twitched in your hand, weak little spurts of cum oozing onto your fingers. Hiromi let you continue like this, for a few seconds, before wrenching your hand away, plaiting your fingers into his own and nuzzling into you furiously. His heart leapt to hear you giggle as he bit into you, still to desperate, everything still not enough to take away this pain and this filth and this misery--

His other hand wandered down, stroking down the rolls of your belly, pinching, nails grazing, digging in all the way to your belt, undoing it with military efficiency. Not bothering to undo the button, he yanked down the zip instead, giving him enough room to manoeuvre his hand between your skin and the fabric, shucking your underwear aside to cup the wet heat of your pussy in one long hand.

Dipping his hand out to collect the cum off your belly, he thrust his hand back inside against your pussy again, teeth gritted and bared as he drank down your reactions now. He was satisfied to see the playful glint in your eyes flicker, your eyebrows raised in shock and overstimulation, teeth sinking into your lip as he rubbed your clit roughly, cum-sticky fingers rubbing broad strokes side to side across it.

"--two can play at that game, sweetheart...feels good? More? Harder?" Hiromi pressed you, in these words you didn't understand, and laughed, darkly satisfied as you wiggled beneath his hands, one hand resting lightly on your throat as you tried in vain to scoot away from him, your breath releasing in airy whimpers.

"No answer?" Hiromi moved his fingers faster, harder, your pussy squelching with your mixed cum inside your trousers, feeling you writhe beneath them, "I'll decide for you then."

Hiromi urged your orgasm to build, faster and harder this time, teeth gritted as he dragged you to the edge, growling into you as his tongue flicked roughly over your nipple--

"--come on-- know you can do it-- I'll go as hard as you like, come on, good girl--ah, there-- good girrrrllll..." Hiromi softened his movements, fingers undulating against your pussy as he pulled another orgasm from you, moving one finger from your throat to dip into your mouth, shuddering as you sucked it around your cries and whimpers.

Hiromi felt his cock beginning to stir to life again, and he committed you to memory like this, draped over the piano, wet breasts heaving, his seed dripping down your belly, eyes glazed, body supple.

Another word, that he did know in English, slipped from him, as he dropped to his knees before you, worshiping at this otherworldly alter in the moonlight; "Beautiful."

You blushed, voice catching in your throat as Hiromi smiled up at you, soft and captive in his sincerity as he unbuttoned your trousers, easing them, with your underwear, gently to your ankles, and off. Feeling suddenly so exposed, so flawed, you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Hiromi grip your ankle with such tenderness, pressing a long, languid kiss to the delicate bones on the inside.

"English," Hiromi called, beckoning you back to him. You shook your head, blushing, eyes still closed, and he insisted. "English, please--" your eyes opened, uncertain, and Hiromi hummed in satisfaction as he began to kiss his way up your inner legs, "--beautiful."

Sighing and leaning back, one arm over your eyes, your heart bursting with the oddity of having fallen in love like this, you felt safe behind your language barrier as you spoke without a filter; "Oh, Nose. I love you. I really do."

Hiromi paused, stunned and ecstatic, his lips still on your inner thigh. He shocked you both, at how quickly his grasp of your language had come along; "And I love you, English." Hiromi chuckled with genuine glee as you clapped your hands over your face, mortified. Hiromi nuzzled into you, wickedly playful, but soon overtaken by this violent urge again--

"And...I love--" you squealed as you felt Hiromi force your thighs apart, sinking his tongue and nose quickly between your folds, groaning as he tasted the heady mix of his and your cum around your clit. His cock, almost fully hard again, throbbed, tightening his waistband as the blood rushed to it again. Hiromi reached down, releasing his cock with a sigh.

He took his time, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he lapped at you, dipping his tongue into your entrance, tasting you, teasing you. You leaned, watching him again, and he looked up at you, hooded eyes burning as he nuzzled his nose against your clit, and held his own cock in his hand, stroking slowly. You felt jolts of voyeuristic pleasure, watching him masturbate himself to the taste of you.

"I...I like that," you whispered to him, your hand moving down to graze your nails against his scalp. You watched Hiromi like pornography as he shuddered, his cock leaping in his hand, your eyes fixed intently on his hand gliding up and down his length as you felt your pleasure beginning to crescendo yet again.

"More, I--" you moved your hand in the air as if you were the one stroking Hiromi's cock, mimicking faster movements, "--faster, Hiromi." Hiromi hummed in understanding, groaning sandy little groans into your pussy now as his hand sped up, jacking himself off harder, feeling your pussy clench around nothing beneath his tongue as you watched him, your keening cries getting higher and higher until--

-- you came again, trembling with the fluttering soft pleasure of your third orgasm, thighs clamping around Hiromi's head as he sucked your clit gently between his lips. Hiromi panted, gripping the base of his cock, delaying his high, fingers wet with more pre-cum, desperate to drag you to the floor and finish using you.

Pulling his mouth away, his hands trembling on your thighs, Hiromi's face was unreadable as he looked at the floor. Standing, dishevelled and sweating, looking up at you with feral hunger, his cock still twitching in his hand, you could see the barest vestiges of Hiromi pleading you for permission, with those exquisite dark eyes--

All it took from you was a nod. Hiromi pounced, wiry arms deceptively strong as he lifted you, legs locked around his waist, nose nuzzling against yours, teeth nipping your lips with a rumble. Hiromi whispered his mother tongue against your mouth, reaching out one hand for his overcoat, and tossing it into the floor, before laying you on your front, sinking his teeth into your shoulder blade with bruising force.

"--you're beautiful, and you're good, and I don't deserve you-- fuck, I need you now, I--I need--"

Hiromi panted above you, barely restraining himself from slamming into you immediately as he looped an arm round your neck and chest, pulling you up and forcing your back to arch. Ghosting his nose over your ear, he whispered your name, making you shiver and squirm, certain you'd break unless you felt him inside you soon.

"Ready, English?" You trembled, nodding, head tipped back as his cock grazed against your slippery folds. One hand cupped your arse, stroking softly, before slapping, Hiromi captivated by its plush jiggle against his fingers, how you cried out, how your skin flushed so deliciously.

Not holding back, Hiromi slammed into you, one forearm planted to the floor while the other restrained you against him, cupping your breasts in one squeezing hand. He shook, cursing, his teeth in your shoulder, as he felt the tip of his cock kiss your gummy walls, feeling your pussy clench around him in shock.

Prone, hands clawing at his overcoat, Hiromi felt enormous inside you, so swollen and plush after waiting to be filled for so long. You whimpered, resting your head sideways against his clutching bicep, feeling the muscle tense and jump as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, still speaking husky reassurances to you in his native tongue.

"--rest, just-- keep still and let me hold you, I-- I can't slow down anymore--"

Feeling simultaneously used and protected, caged in like this for him to chase his own pleasure, your breath came in ragged gasps, both hands now clutching the forearm across your neck and chest, head swimming with the instinctively blissful fullness of his cock, tightly sleeved within you. You felt your belly jolt from the force of Hiromi's thrusts, and pressed up towards him, proud to hear him moan in response.

Hiromi fucked you with abandon, needing this release, needing to shed his sin and worthlessness, his heart leaping to feel you fall apart beneath him. His hips began to stutter, strength abandoning him as his orgasm approached, moaning deep breaking moans in your ear, nipping, holding your neck in his teeth.

His legs buckling beneath him, Hiromi cried out in bliss, his arm shaking around you, hips flush against your arse, cock twitching long, hot spurts of cum inside your walls, feeling you pulse around him, sucking him in. You revelled in the glorious feeling of him twitching deep inside you, your belly hot and clenching as his seed seeped out between your clenched thighs. Hiromi lay above you, panting, pressing soft kisses into your hair, using his arm to roll you sideways with him, covering you both with his overcoat.

With his arm beneath your head, the other lazily stroking the curve of your waist and hips, Hiromi laughed lazily behind you.

"You love me, English, hmm?" Hiromi laughed again as you clapped your hands to your face.

"Stop, Hiromi, stop--" you cried, blushing all the way to your toes as he squeezed you closer, "-- or I will shoot you." Hiromi lifted his head, peering mulishly at you, one eyebrow raised. You scowled, pointing to your gun, and then at him, and he gasped in mock horror.

"Ara ara," he rumbled, teasing you in alien words, "so violent when you're meant to be happy."

You remembered these sweet small hours the most, after the horrors that came. You remembered lying in each others' arms, sticky and teasing. You remembered sneaking to the bathrooms, splashing each other at the sinks as you cleaned up as best as you could. You remembered laughing as Hiromi cursed, trying to clean the residual cum off your clothes. You remembered Hiromi calling for you, afraid, anxious, before you ducked back up from behind the bar, your arms full of snacks and drinks. You remembered lying beneath the piano, gazing out across the city, flicking peanuts at each other, sharing slow, lazy kisses. You remembered naively seeing a future between you, a happy life with none of this unthinkable chaos.

It was your fault, you cursed yourself, vomiting and wracked with sobs, staggering away from the devastation. If you had been able to develop your power, and pose a real threat, Hiromi wouldn't have been burdened with such a liability.

Lost in each other again, nose to nose beneath the piano, your instincts had kicked in just fast enough to kick Hiromi away, saving his life as the floor between you both split with dreadful electricity. A strange-haired, wild-eyed boy burst through the room on a voltage, bottles smashing, the floor splitting, your rifle disappearing into the chasm as Hiromi shouted for you, urging you, ordering you-- you were sure, to move, to run, to save yourself and leave him.

You could do none of them, your military training meaning nothing to this god. You could do nothing when Hiromi stepped into his path, defending you, fighting tooth and nail. You could do nothing as the floors split beneath him, dragging them down in lightning flashes, horrifying rumbles. You had fled from the collapse, leaping flights of stairs one at a time, possessed by some strange force. You had not felt Hiromi again. Powerful though he was, you could not see how he could walk out of such a fight alive.

Putting all the dregs of your energy into hiding, refusing to let Hiromi's sacrifice be in vain, you cried yourself to sleep, nose in Hiromi's overcoat, his cum still cooling between your thighs.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Each day merged into the next. Time had lost meaning. While you had the urge to fight before loving Hiromi, to have loved and lost him broke you and the future you may have had. The battleground was no place for someone such as yourself now. You cursed the injustice of it all.

Cold, dirty and exhausted, your head rested sideways against an industrial bin, praying the rain would wipe your soul clean.

You had translated his business card, with your little dictionary--

Lawyer. Higuruma Hiromi, Criminal Defence Lawyer.

Knowing this detail of his life, a sweet overlay of understanding dawned upon you, his character suddenly so understandable, his anguish shooting through you like knives, and all too late, too late--

"...English?"

Your head jerked up, to the end of the alleyway. Silhouetted, dripping in the rain, bleeding and bruised but impossibly alive--

Your face crumpled, pressed into your wet sleeves, shaking. Slow splashing footsteps approached you, Hiromi kneeling in front of you, a hand coming out to graze through your hair.

He opened your dictionary, dusty and bloodstained, before flicking to a dog-eared page;

"Found you."

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nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma · 8 months ago

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Consequences of Driftmark for Alicent and Rhaenyra

*In F&B, the events at Driftmark take place during Laenor's funeral, not Laena's, and Harwin is still alive, and Lyonel Strong is still Hand.

In bold are the consequences that are depicted in House of the Dragon - the rest are cut.

Consequences of Driftmark for Alicent in F&B:

Aemond (10) accidentally loses an eye, scarring him for life

Viserys publicly forbids any questioning of Rhaenyra's sons' parentage

Consequences of Driftmark for Rhaenyra in F&B:

Jace (6) is 'savagely pummelled' by Aemond and Luke (5) has his nose broken

Viserys orders Rhaenyra to move to Dragonstone to put an end to the fighting, therefore distancing her from court

Viserys orders her lover Ser Harwin Strong away to Harrenhall to dispel the rumours (resulting in his and Lyonel's deaths by fire)

Viserys considers but passes over Rhaenyra as his new Hand and reinstates Otto instead.

Meanwhile in House of the Dragon:

Harwin is already dead after being sent away for beating up Ser Criston Cole defending the honor of the Crown Princess against the Kingsguard knight who is apparently allowed to publicly shit-talk her?

Rhaenyra has already chosen to exile herself to Dragonstone because something something wise sailor steers to avoid the storm??

Rhaenyra is never even considered in the running to serve as her own father's Hand despite being the Crown Princess. Viserys even mentions that his own father Baelon had served as Hand for his father King Jaehaerys... but nope he just gives that pin straight back to Otto.

And then there's Rhaenyra immediately marrying Daemon after faking Laenor's death...

Again, Laenor is already dead at this point in the book. It is his funeral, and that is why we're having the first public confrontation over the boys parentage now, when Laenor is no longer around to refute it. Yes, Laenor is an unfortunate example of an LGBT character getting killed off, but the attempts by the show to avoid burying their gays creates a new host of problems. Laenor is now ok with murdering an innocent bystander, and then traumatising his parents and children with a body burnt beyond recognition. Rhaenyra is now also ok with this. This is now a part of their characterisation, but not one the show actually addresses or acknowledges - because it was only ever a temporary characterisation for the purposes of finding a way to get rid of Laenor without repeating a harmful trope. Similar to how it is now apparently a part of Rhaenys' characterisation that she will slaughter hundreds of smallfolk (and keeps a nifty change of armour in her purse for emergencies). This was purely for the Doylist purpose of having a big shocking Game of Thrones Episode 9 Moment, as evidenced by the weak Watsonian reason for why Rhaenys didn't end the war there and then ("she wouldn't do that to another mother" "it wasn't my war to start"). Not to mention that by episode 10 both Rhaenyra and Rhaenys seem to espouse the ideals of the Geneva Convention.

The change makes Laenor a suddenly very shitty person - particularly considering he left his kids with a burnt corpse so soon after their biological father actually died in a fire (it's not as though the show even makes the most of this trauma to actually develop Jace as a character). If Laenor is to exit the show anyway, at least have him exit with integrity. Then instead of spending his final episodes setting up Laenor faking his own death we could have explored his relationship with his children. What if instead of Harwin defending the boys in the training yard we had Laenor facing off against Criston Cole? The man who murdered his lover and now bullies his children? This would also establish Laenor as a father figure whose presence would actually be missed - as it is he is treated as a political nuisance to be bumped off so Rhaenyra can finally marry Daemon.

Which is also a consequence of changing the order of deaths around - Harwin is still alive during Laenor's funeral in the book. If Harwin were still alive in the show, Rhaenyra would not be looking to marry Daemon - as GRRM said in an interview, he could write at least a novella about Rhaenyra's romance with Harwin. Rhaenyra certainly would not have been plotting to get rid of Laenor. Again, it is as soon as Laenor dies that there is a public confrontation over about their sons' parentage; losing Laenor only hurts Rhaenyra.

On that note, while Daemon is rumoured to have paid Qarl Correy to get rid of Laenor, he is not the only one who stood to benefit from Laenor's death. It is much easier for the Greens or for Vaemond to challenge the legitimacy of Rhaenyra's children with Laenor no longer alive to claim them as his own. Especially if you kill him off before the now-betrothed Luke and Rhaena can grow old enough to marry and seal the alliance (in the book, it is Laena who arranges to betroth the children - perhaps she knew her cousin Vaemond would have no qualms usurping her daughters). And especially if Harwin is still alive and looking very suspicious as Rhaenyra's sworn shield. Imagine Harwin at Laenor's funeral, unable to comfort his grieving children without raising suspicion now that Laenor's absence leaves them exposed.

Providing an alternative suspect for Laenor's death would allow Daemon to be a more mysterious and grey character. I think one of the best moments of the show was when it cut away from Daemon's 'Heir for a day' toast to Otto reporting it to Viserys. Matt Smith apparently delivered the line with more sincerity than Otto makes out - a creative choice which is very in keeping with the spirit of F&B, filled as it is with biased narrators. I think it's a shame the show dropped this approach - imagine if the audience only ever heard rumours of Daemon murdering Rhea Royce, or murdering Laenor? Imagine if we had to balance for ourselves the light and dark in the character, analysing for ourselves how much truth was in the rumours. Imagine if Rhaenyra knew as much as we did, and had to decide what story she believed (what story could she live with?). This is the approach Game of Thrones should have taken with Ned Stark and Littlefinger - instead of Littlefinger monologing his evil plans like a pantomime villain it could have placed the audience in Ned's point of view (like in the book), forced to make decisions on who to trust based on limited information.

It would also make it more believable for Rhaenys to back Rhaenyra. True, Show Rhaenys doesn't leap to ally with Rhaenyra because she suspects she had a hand in her son's supposed death. But she also gets over that a little too easily. There is the Watsonian explanation that Rhaenys decides she can live with backing her son's potential murderer out of political pragmatism. But since by the finale she is fiercely defending Rhaenyra and singing her praises I'm going to assume that she's just in tune with the Doylist explanation that Laenor isn't actually dead. They could have at least have Rhaenys only suspect Daemon, and have the source of the rift be that Rhaenyra does not share her suspicions. That way Rhaenys can reconcile backing Rhaenyra without insulting her son's memory.

In addition to insulting Laenor, these changes remove sympathy and context for Rhaenyra's character.

Now Rhaenyra does marry Daemon within half a year of Laenor and Laena's death, and this is considered scandalous in the book. But the show makes it out to be immediately after his death, and it removes everything that happens within those 6 months. And a lot happens. Again, Rhaenyra is exiled away from court to Dragonstone.

To prevent further conflict, and put an end to these “vile rumors and base calumnies,�� King Viserys further decreed that Queen Alicent and her sons would return with him to court, whilst Princess Rhaenyra confined herself to Dragonstone with her sons.

Yes, Rhaenyra 'took possession of Dragonstone' as her seat when she was 16, and she spent a lot of time there. We know she visited Laena at Driftmark from Dragonstone, and we know she gave birth to Joffrey on Dragonstone. But Dragonstone is close enough that Rhaenyra at 14 was racing Syrax between Dragonstone and King's Landing daily. And we know that until the events at Driftmark her sons were being raised and educated alongside Alicent's:

Though all six boys attended the same feasts, balls, and revels, and sometimes trained together in the yard under the same master-at-arms and studied under the same maesters, this enforced closeness only served to feed their mutual mislike, rather than binding them together as brothers.

Aemond losing his eye at Driftmark was what caused the final split of the royal family - not Rhaenyra getting embarrassed by her breastmilk leaking during a council meeting. Rhaenyra did not willingly leave King's Landing, because that would be a bad move, and the show knows it's a bad move, which is why they had to come up with that dumb line about the wise sailor steering to avoid the storm.

Next, Harwin is sent away, resulting in his and Lyonel's deaths.

Henceforth Ser Erryk Cargyll of the Kingsguard would serve as her sworn shield, whilst Breakbones returned to Harrenhal.

Lyonel Strong, Lord of Harrenhal and Hand of the King, accompanied his son and heir Ser Harwin on his return to the great, half-ruined castle on the lakeshore. Shortly after their arrival, a fire broke out in the tower where they were sleeping, and both father and son were killed, along with three of their retainers and a dozen servants.

So after being effectively exiled by her father and being forcibly separated from her lover, Rhaenyra suffers another huge personal loss. And so soon after losing her best friend Laena, and her husband and friend Laenor. Most importantly, by placing the fire at Harrenhal before Driftmark, rather than in the aftermath of Driftmark, the show erases another huge blow to Rhaenyra:

Rhaenyra is passed over as Hand.

Lord Strong had been the King’s Hand, and Viserys had come to rely upon his strength and counsel. His Grace had reached the age of three-and-forty, and had grown quite stout. He no longer had a young man’s vigor, and was afflicted by gout, aching joints, back pain, and a tightness in the chest that came and went and oft left him red-faced and short of breath. The governance of the realm was a daunting task; the king needed a strong, capable Hand to shoulder some of his burdens. Briefly he considered sending for Princess Rhaenyra. Who better to rule with him than the daughter he meant to succeed him on the Iron Throne? But that would have meant bringing the princess and her sons back to King’s Landing, where more conflict with the queen and her own brood would have been inevitable.

Viserys needed a new Hand after Lyonel's death, and he almost called Rhaenyra home. Her exile to Dragonstone was almost temporary, and serving as her father's Hand would have done wonders to smooth her transition to power. But Viserys prioritised avoiding conflict between Rhaenyra and Alicent and clearly decided 'happy wife, happy life' - and gave Otto the pin instead. Which positioned Otto perfectly to arrange a coup.

For all TG complain that Rhaenyra faced zero consequences for Aemond's eye - she sure got royally fucked over in the aftermath of Driftmark. For all TG complain that Viserys played favourites and let Rhaenyra get away with everything, his desire to avoid conflict and placate his wife seriously sabotaged Rhaenyra. He may have backed the legitimacy of her sons, but overall Driftmark was a political win for the Greens... and for Daemon.

These rulings pleased no one, Septon Eustace writes. Mushroom demurs: one man at least was thrilled by the decrees, for Dragonstone and Driftmark lay quite close to one another, and this proximity would allow Daemon Targaryen ample opportunity to comfort his niece, Princess Rhaenyra, unbeknownst to the king.

However you feel about Daemon, the timing and context of Rhaenyra's marriage to him is important.

Yet hardly had Ser Otto arrived at the Red Keep to take up the Handship than word reached court that Princess Rhaenyra had remarried, taking to husband her uncle, Daemon Targaryen. The princess was twenty-three, Prince Daemon thirty-nine.

Otto arrives in King's Landing to take the position that is rightfully Rhaenyra's, and Rhaenyra marries Daemon (upstaging Otto in the process). That's the context of their marriage. Daemon (however you interpret him and his motives) comforts Rhaenyra at a time in her life when she is losing everything, one after the other - her best friend, her husband, her lover, her influence at court, her position, the security of her succession. Rhaenyra marries Daemon to feel stronger again, at a time where much of her strength is being stripped away. Daemon was there at an extremely vulnerable time for her - he may even have related to her how he was also exiled by Viserys, how he was also passed over as Hand.

Based on the timing, Rhaenyra was also probably already pregnant.

Septon Eustace claims that Rhaenyra knew her father would never approve of the match, so she wed in haste to make certain he could not prevent the marriage. Mushroom puts forward a different reason: the princess was once again with child and did not wish to birth a bastard. And thus that dreadful year 120 AC ended as it begun, with a woman laboring in childbirth. Princess Rhaenyra’s pregnancy had a happier outcome than Lady Laena’s had. As the year waned, she brought forth a small but robust son, a pale princeling with dark purple eyes and pale silvery hair. She named him Aegon.

Even accounting for the possibility that Aegon was born early - which is likely since he is noted as being small - it is possible Rhaenyra conceived him before her marriage to Daemon. The year after all began with Laena's death and ended with Aegon's birth, and as I've detailed Rhaenyra goes through a lot between Driftmark and her wedding to Daemon. So while he is comforting Rhaenyra for her many losses, Daemon gets her pregnant.

The show does at least keep the context of a grieving Rhaenyra having recently lost Harwin when she finally sleeps with Daemon. But by changing the order of events they remove much of the context that made this such a low and vulnerable time in Rhaenyra's life. She doesn't lose a best friend. Her children don't lose a protector in Laenor. She leaves King's Landing voluntarily. She was never in the running to be Hand. Her exile is erased from the show.

In the show, it's "hee hee we'll get rid of Laenor and then we'll be an unstoppable power couple and RULE THE WORLD - from Dragonstone though, 100% voluntarily, because something something wise sailor avoids the storm..." And this is apparently the more interesting and complex improvement on F&B?

At this point the show had already changed Rhaenyra's childhood so she is no longer bullied by her stepmother and groomed by her sworn shield. These instances of adversity in Rhaenyra's life are exchanged for a version of Alicent and Criston that are more sympathetic and that many find more interesting. I may personally disagree, but I can understand it, and I can understand why some fans like these changes. However I do not understand why it was necessary to keep taking away even more instances of adversity faced by Rhaenyra - why erase her exile, why erase her being passed over as Hand? it does not make the story more interesting, and it makes Rhaenyra's story less compelling.

How much more heart-breaking would it have been to see Rhaenyra begging her dying father to wake up and defend her, if the show had stuck closer to the book version of events? After forcing his daughter into an unwanted marriage with a homosexual man, after exiling her while she was grieving, after passing over her as Hand, after hurting her transition to power, after failing to to bring her home... how much more emotionally satisfying would it then have been to finally see Viserys drag his corpse out of bed to defend Rhaenyra and her sons?

The book version of events would also open up a more interesting relationship dynamic between Rhaenyra and Daemon than "lets fake my husband's death so we can be an unstoppable power couple and rule the world!" If I were adapting it, I would have kept Daemon's possible involvement in Laenor's death ambiguous - uncertain to both the audience and to Rhaenyra. Again, suggest the possibility that it could have been the Greens. Have Rhaenyra, at her lowest and most vulnerable moment, convince herself that she can live with the doubt. Because at this point, with Laena dead, Laenor dead, Harwin dead, and with her father exiling her, Daemon is one of the few allies she has left. A Rhaenyra who chooses to kill an innocent bystander to fake her husband's death is cartoonishly evil. A Rhaenyra who chooses to live with the possibility that her new husband murdered her old husband is interesting.

Meanwhile Alicent goes from victor to victim at Driftmark...

Yes, of course in both book and show her child is the most seriously injured and, again, scarred for life (though in the book it is the result of violently bullying little kids half his age so 🤷‍♀️). But politically, Alicent comes out on top after Driftmark.

See Book Viserys doesn't give Rhaenyra an honour without also giving Alicent one, and vice versa.

King Viserys loved both his wife and daughter, and hated conflict and contention. He strove all his days to keep the peace between his women, and to please both with gifts and gold and honors.

And because Alicent champions the patriarchal status quo (and in the book is an adult battling a child) this 'neutrality' is to Rhaenyra's detriment. So yes, Driftmark sees Viserys publicly forbid anyone from discussing Rhaenyra's sons' parentage - that is a loss for Alicent and a win for Rhaenyra. But Alicent's victories at Driftmark are much more significant - Rhaenys is effectively exiled from court, her rival's influence at court is severely diminished, Otto is brought back as Hand and gets to stack the council with Green supporters. Viserys' weak efforts to stop the fighting and placate everyone ends up favouring Alicent significantly.

In the show, its all 'poor Alicent can't even get her mean husband to cut a 6-year-old's eye out for her and its making her big beautiful brown eyes sad'. The show removes all the consequences Rhaenyra faces at Driftmark, and replaces it with Alicent snapping because 'that spoilt Rhaenyra gets away with everything'. All of Alicent's victories from Driftmark have already happened before Driftmark, and they don't even count because Alicent's big beautiful brown eyes are sad. Rhaenyra has already committed political suicide by voluntarily leaving King's Landing, and Otto is already Hand because Rhaenyra was never in the running.

This is worsened by the fact that the show feels very inconsistent in how it depicts Alicent's position as queen consort. In the book, as stated, Viserys strives to please his wife with gifts and gold and honors, and Alicent is surrounded by a 'Queen's party' of 'lickspittles, fawning over Queen Alicent and her children'. Alicent's worth is apparent in the fact that Viserys throws a huge tourney to celebrate their 5-year-anniversary - Alicent is the centre of attention and celebration. Because this is the 'benevolent' form of misogyny Westeros takes in the books - one that celebrates and reveres wives and mothers like Alicent (while of course not permitting them bodily autonomy) and demonises non-conforming women like Rhaenyra.

In the absence of Alicent's special tourney in the show, we don't get Rhaenyra's iconic dress entrance - instead it is given to Alicent during Rhaenyra's wedding to Laenor. Because this is such an iconic moment for Rhaenyra, the show tries to compensate in episode 3 by having a bloodied Rhaenyra upstage Aegon during his birthday celebrations. Since this is no longer the culmination of years of being bullied by her stepmother, the moment loses quite a bit of its impact (at least the soundtrack is gorgeous). This version also replaces Alicent's special day with Aegon's special day - which depicts a very different world of misogyny. The more complicated benevolent misogyny of the book is replaced with a more basic misogyny in which Alicent is simply ignored and unappreciated.

Which feels like overkill. I don't think this change was necessary to understand Show Alicent as a victim. Personally, if I was pimped out to my friend's dad and suffered through marital rape and unwanted pregnancies with zero bodily autonomy, I wouldn't consider a tourney to be adequate compensation. Alicent can be appreciated and celebrated and still suffer. If anything it could further feed into her self-identification as a martyr.

So the show depicts an underappreciated victim Alicent with her big beautiful sad brown eyes. But episode 6 depicts Alicent as having accumulated a significant amount of power as Queen. The episode establishes that Alicent is powerful enough that she can demand that the Crown Princesses' newborn be taken away from his mother and brought straight to her (in a world of high newborn mortality rates) - and the Crown Princess has to comply. It's implied that this kind of behaviour isn't new, and either Viserys isn't intervening or Rhaenyra is just not telling him for some reason. Meanwhile Alicent can shut down a proposal by the Crown Princess that the King is in favour of, overturn the Crown Princess at council meetings, and seems to be the final voice at the council meeting. Not to mention she has made Criston Cole so untouchable that he can murder vassals of House Velaryon, publicly bully Prince Jacaerys, and openly speculate on the sex life of the Crown Princess (and it is Harwin who gets punished???).

But one episode later and Alicent is snapping in despair because Viserys won't cut out a 6-year-old's eye for her. And the subtext of the scene is that it isn't really about the eye, it's about a marriage where she has gone underappreciated and unrecognised, and Viserys always chooses Rhaenyra over her and his other children, and big brown eyes are sad... All ignoring of course everything that she gets away with in the previous episode. Really, it feels like Driftmark is a last straw for Viserys - he's been essentially letting her run things so far but he draws the line at cutting his grandson's eye out.

And I would be willing to accept this inconsistency as purposeful - people are inconsistent and hypocritical, and Alicent self-righteously views herself as a martyr. And there is a tendency for critics to mistake in-character inconsistency for inconsistent characterisation and bad writing, and I do see this tendency a fair bit in discussions of Alicent (some instances being more valid than others). However I get the impression that this is not a purposeful in-character inconsistency, or at the very least there were competing visions behind the scenes. And this is because of the victimised way Alicent and her big beautiful sad brown eyes are framed - and because of the way the events at Driftmark are also shifted around.

Firstly the dynamics are changed between the children to make Aemond more sympathetic. The age gap between him and Jace is narrowed and Baela and Rhaena are added to the fight - making it a fight of 1 against 4 kids who are close in age. Meanwhile in the book, Aemond is 10 and starts the fight by hitting a 3-year-old Joffrey for making noise. A 6 and 5-year-old Jace and Luke then come running to defend their little brother against a much older and bigger bully - who easily beats them up.

Joffrey had run to get his brothers when Aemond took to the sky, and both Jace and Luke had come to his call. The Velaryon princelings were younger than Aemond—Jace was six, Luke five, Joff only three—but there were three of them, and they had armed themselves with wooden swords from the training yard. Now they fell on him with a fury. Aemond fought back, breaking Luke’s nose with a punch, then wrenching the sword from Joff’s hands and cracking it across the back of Jace’s head, driving him to his knees. As the younger boys scrambled back away from him, bloody and bruised, the prince began to mock them, laughing and calling them “the Strongs.” Jace at least was old enough to grasp the insult. He flew at Aemond once again, but the older boy began pummeling him savagely…until Luke, coming to the rescue of his brother, drew his dagger and slashed Aemond across the face, taking out his right eye.

Jace's injuries are much much worse in the book, and he is much much younger and braver. I mean, it takes balls for a 6-year-old to go up against a 10-year-old - and a 10-year-old with a giant fucking dragon at that.

And then there is 'questioned sharply':

Afterward, King Viserys tried to make a peace, requiring each of the boys to tender an apology to his rivals on the other side, but these courtesies did not appease their vengeful mothers. Queen Alicent demanded that one of Lucerys Velaryon’s eyes should be put out, for the eye he had cost Aemond. Princess Rhaenyra would have none of that, but insisted that Prince Aemond should be questioned “sharply” until he revealed where he had heard her sons called “Strongs.” To so name them was tantamount to saying they were bastards, with no rights of succession…and that she herself was guilty of high treason. When pressed by the king, Prince Aemond said it was his brother Aegon who had told him they were Strongs, and Prince Aegon said only, “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

The order is reversed. In the book Alicent is the first to demand violence against a child - in the show it is Rhaenyra. Now I argue that Rhaenyra's demand was more toothless - in both book and show it was more about backing Alicent into a corner to get her to admit to plotting a coup. But In the book, both mothers at least had an understandable context behind their shitty demands - Alicent's son had just lost an eye, and Rhaenyra was responding to a violent threat to her son (plus, Aemond had just savagely pummelled Jace). Since Alicent is publicly demanding violence against a 5-year-old, now is a good time for Rhaenyra to ask 'hey, I wonder who taught Aemond my sons are bastards, hmm Alicent?'

But in the show, Rhaenyra is the one made into the aggressor, and Alicent is now the victim reacting defensively. Rhaenyra just opens with wanting to question Aemond sharply, right while Aemond is in the middle of getting his eye stitched up. In the book, the argument between the mothers comes after the boys have been made to apologise to each other, which implies that at this point Aemond has at least already received medical attention. But in the show, Viserys immediately goes along with Rhaenyra making her sons' parentage the more pressing priority - all so the scene can escalate towards Alicent losing it and demanding Luke's eye. The scene is more dramatic and nonsensical as a result - it is bewildering that this is the order of priority and this primes the audience to sympathise with Alicent here. Viserys is shouting at his injured son and Alicent's big brown eyes are sad. And Rhaenyra is temporarily characterised as the sort of person to demand her brother be tortured - as the aggressor rather than in a reaction to a threat - for the Doylist purpose of a more dramatic escalation towards Alicent picking up the knife.

Now Viserys making the question of his grandson's legitimacy a priority could make sense in the show's version of events - if there is a potential coup it does have to be shut down immediately. The consequences for his children and grandchildren are after all life-threatening. And to be fair to him, his first impulse (while Aemond is receiving medical attention) is to ask the children how the fight started, which is reasonable enough, and the episode has already established that he's not in complete control of his mental faculties.

But emotionally, we the viewer are watching an injured kid get yelled at by his dad while Alicent's big beautiful brown eyes are sad. And not only are the events around Driftmark changed to remove the adversity Rhaenyra faces, but the events at Driftmark are changed to add to Alicent's victimhood. She is no longer the aggressor, she is depicted as undervalued, and her victories at Driftmark are erased.

And by episode 9 it seems Alicent is so powerless as Queen Consort that she has to let Larys masturbate over her feet. And episode 8 makes out that she's been acting as nurse maid to Viserys, instead of Viserys having servants to look after him (though we did see Alicent voluntarily sending these servants away back in episode 3 - did she send them away permanently? Were there spending cutbacks on staff to make way for the redecorating?)

But in episode 8 Alicent also appears to be running the kingdom, and has the power to decide on the succession of Driftmark. Alicent even tells Rhaenyra that she will be the one sitting in judgement while Viserys is ill - not Otto, the King's Hand, but Alicent. How is this consistent with Alicent being undervalued and underappreciated, if she is given this power and responsibility? How is she so powerless that Larys gets to masturbate over her feet?

From these inconsistencies, TG draws the following picture: underappreciated Alicent is busy running the kingdom, while spoiled Rhaenyra is off 'playing house' with Daemon and avoiding her responsibilities. Poor Alicent is depicted as doing all the work while Rhaenyra is off having fun, instead of Rhaenyra being effectively exiled against her wishes to placate Alicent. It's almost as insulting as the change to Rhaenyra and Criston - instead of Criston (who is exactly the same age as Rhaenyra's mother, by the way) grooming Rhaenyra from the age of 7, he is the one presented as Rhaenyra's victim by TG (like poor friendzoned Jorah).

Alicent's victories are presented as unappreciated sacrifices and burdens, and Rhaenyra's losses and adversities are presented as her idiotically skiving to live in domestic bliss.

And the problem to me isn't simply that there were changes made, or that I wish Alicent was a more one-note antagonist etc. Though I would have preferred a more book-accurate adaption, I was initially cautiously on board for the changes in the first half of the season. They at least seemed interesting, and I was intrigued to see where this high-budget fanfiction would go. But the show goes too far in taking sympathy and depth away from Rhaenyra to shower it on Alicent - the accumulation of changes tips it over the edge. There had to be a better balance than what the show gave us, one where we could root for Rhaenyra as she struggles in the face of adversity (making the eventual dark path she goes down all the more tragic). The sympathetic version of Alicent that the show gives us simply does not demand taking so much away from Rhaenyra.

The one scene in the second half of the show where we get to see how adult Rhaenyra deals with adversity is her introductory scene. She responds to Alicent's demands by walking bleeding up a flight of stairs rather than let go of her newborn. And this is where my frustration lies with the show, because it has so much potential and yet it is so inconsistent. On the one hand, it's ridiculous that Rhaenyra doesn't just ignore Alicent. But on the other, it's a decent way to compensate for the change to Rhaenyra's childhood. Since we no longer have young Rhaenyra getting bullied by her stepmother, we needed this big moment of cruelty. And it shows just how much Rhaenyra will fight for her children.

And yet the same episode will have her voluntarily abandon King's Landing (and far far too early - there is a point in F&B where a considerably more broken Rhaenyra faces a similar choice, and we are nowhere near that point yet). Rhaenyra ditches because she's been, in her words, humiliated. This would be salvageable if this was simply a case of Rhaenyra deciding not to put up with Alicent's shit and establishing herself from a seat of strength at Dragonstone. But staying away? Being absent from court for years? Episode 8 even establishes that Dragonstone is so close that they don't even need to stay the night when they visit King's Landing! This woman walked bleeding up a flight of stairs rather than let go of her newborn baby, and now she's just relinquishing all influence at court to the greens? This isn't consistent or accurate characterisation.

Rhaenyra already has plenty of canon flaws, without adding that she voluntarily leaves and stays away from King's Landing and her dying father. Even when ordered to move her family to Dragonstone, Rhaenyra in the book always tried to come home. She brought Maester Gerardys to save her father's life. She at least tried to influence the council by nominating her choice of Archmaester. She doesn't just roll over and let the Greens tilt the council in their favour without a fight.

Though Grand Maester Mellos washed the cut out with boiled wine and bound up the hand with strips of linen soaked in healing ointments, fever soon followed, and many feared the king might die. Only the arrival of Princess Rhaenyra from Dragonstone turned the tide, for with her came her own healer, Maester Gerardys, who acted swiftly to remove two fingers from His Grace’s hand to save his life.

Princess Rhaenyra wanted Maester Gerardys, who had long served her on Dragonstone, elevated to replace Mellos; it was only his healing skills that had saved the king’s life when Viserys cut his hand on the throne, she claimed. Queen Alicent, however, insisted that the princess and her maester had mutilated His Grace unnecessarily. Had they not “meddled,” she claimed, Grand Maester Mellos would surely have saved the king’s fingers as well as his life. She urged the appointment of one Maester Alfador, presently in service at the Hightower. Viserys, beset from both sides, chose neither, reminding both the princess and the queen that the choice was not his to make. The Citadel of Oldtown* chose the Grand Maester, not the Crown. In due time, the Conclave bestowed the chain of office upon Archmaester Orwyle, one of their own.

*the seat of the Hightowers - great attempt at neutrality there Vizzy

With King's Landing so close to Dragonstone, there is no way Rhaenyra didn't do what she could to mitigate the damage of her absence. The fact that she is noted as being in the confinement stages of her pregnancy during the coup, and that this is considered serendipitous, suggests to me that Rhaenyra otherwise would have tried to attend court as much as possible:

With the princess in confinement on Dragonstone, about to give birth, Queen Alicent’s greens enjoyed an advantage; the longer Rhaenyra remained ignorant of the king’s death, the slower she would be to move. “Mayhaps the whore will die in childbirth,” Queen Alicent is reported to have said (according to Mushroom).

If the draft script leak is true, the show initially had Rhaenyra explicitly say that she abandoned King's Landing to strengthen her claim, which is both nonsensical and adds to my belief that the show didn't fully understand that they were taking the fight out of Rhaenyra by having her voluntarily leave and stay away. Or maybe they did understand it, seeing as they replaced this statement with the more vague 'wise sailor' line, with Rhaenyra's theme music playing triumphantly to trick us into thinking they weren't assassinating her character.

I've seen essays by fans of the show that have tried to argue that Rhaenyra leaving and staying away is actually a compelling character flaw, spinning it as either the inadvertent self-sabotaging actions of an overprotective mother, or an entitled antagonist who wants the throne without working for it. The latter is character assassination and inconsistent with the rest of her characterisation. The former is also inconsistent, and for it to work it would necessitate that the show spend more time actually fleshing out her children and her relationships with them. These inconsistencies, and the half-hearted way the show tries to rationalise her decision, leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that the show is simply less clever and more inconsistent in quality than it had the potential to be. Which is all the more infuriating in a show that has potential - it can be very capable of writing compelling characters when it wants to, it just rarely does when it comes to Rhaenyra and her children.

Ultimately, a character who fights as much as they can is always going to be more compelling than one who rolls over. Is anyone honestly looking at, say, Sansa in the early seasons of Game of Thrones and thinking "hmm yes I'm glad they got rid of Sansa sneaking out to the Godswood to plot her escape, tricking Tyrion into thinking she was just praying, refusing to kneel during her forced marriage and learning valuable lessons from being used as a political pawn by the Tyrells. It's so much more compelling watching Sansa spend her time getting petted by Shae, Margaery and Tyrion, not knowing what sheep shit is, and getting passively whisked off by Dontos in a surprise rescue".

Rhaenyra has had to fight ever since she was named heir aged 8, ever since her stepmother started bullying her as a child. That fight is an indispensable part of her character - whatever other changes you may make, taking away her fight is not on the table. And above all, taking away the adversity she faces removes opportunities for her to be interesting.

#hotd critical #house of the dragon #pro rhaenyra targaryen #pro team black #driftmark #laenor velaryon #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra defense #valyrianscrolls #daemon targaryen #sansa stark #fire & blood

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swanimagines · 11 months ago

Text

HC: KAZ IS A PROTECTIVE UNOFFICIAL BIG BROTHER FOR A TRAUMATISED READER

- Kaz was 18 years old when he first saw you - a shivering child, barely even a teenager, bruises covering your body and just underwear on.

- He knew from the first glance that you were from one of the pleasure houses, judging by how you peered towards the street full of them.

- Kaz didn’t really know what came over him - maybe you reminded him of himself as a child to some extent. A broken child with nowhere to go.

- Or maybe Inej was whispering into his ear across the seas, urging him to save you.

- So with a sigh, Kaz limped towards you, and you backed up into the corner the moment you saw him - Dirtyhands approaching you was probably even more scary than your master finding you - or at least on par with it.

- You had probably been taught he rips hearts out and eats them while they are still beating, like one of the newest rumours said.

- But instead, after Kaz had glanced around, he shed off his coat and held it out for you.

- You stared at him with wide eyes, then at the coat, then again at him.

- So Kaz sighed again, took a careful step towards you and laid the coat around you.

- You let out a breath, furrowing your brows as you looked up at him, carefully pulling the coat tighter around you. You clearly had not expected the turn of events.

- Kaz then nodded towards the Slat before turning away, and you silently followed him - some semblance of trust had been established.

- He was probably the first person to show even some kind of kindness to you in a long time, even if he was the most feared crime boss around, and you knew you had two options - returning to the pleasure house or following Dirtyhands. And only the first option had a certain severe beating, even death, so you chose the latter.

- When you arrived at the Slat, people fell silent. You were dirty and terrified, with Kaz’s coat wrapped around you.

“Jesper,” Kaz had called, and a Zemeni man with two guns on his waist strode towards you.

- You immediately staggered back, hiding behind Kaz - men with guns often meant you’d be threatened next, and then you’d be forced into something horrible.

- The man frowned at your reaction, and talked with Kaz for a moment. You barely heard what they were saying, your eyes too fixated on the guns.

- A boy with messy hair came to you next - his eyes kind, and you found yourself relaxing a little. He extended a hand towards you, and you looked at Kaz, who nodded and you took the boy’s hand, letting him lead you to a bathroom. And you were able to have a bath all by yourself - relax there, taking your sweet time. Your master wasn’t brushing you with a sponge until your skin was red and irritated, you could lay in the warm water, wash away the grime, wash your hair and just… feel you were safe.

- At least for now. You knew from experience you couldn’t trust anyone before they had truly shown you they were to be trusted.

- Even when the Bastard of the Barrel, somehow, made you trust him almost instantly.

- There just was something strange about him - something familiar. You had a feeling he had understood you somehow.

- When you rose from the bath, wrapping a towel around you and changing into way too big clothes - you made your way out from the bathroom and made your way back downstairs.

- Your eyelids had started to feel heavy from relaxing for so long in the bath and when Kaz noticed it, he gestured you to come with him, and you made your way to the attic.

- There, he made you a bed on his sofa.

“You can sleep here,” he had said, and you swallowed before slowly lying down and pulling the blanket over you.

- You didn’t know if you had ever slept somewhere so comfortable as his sofa was - your “bed” at the pleasure house had been a plank you regularly got splinters from. So it didn't take long for you to fall asleep.

- You had woken up to Kaz coming to sleep as well, but were quickly falling back asleep again after you realised he’s not going to assault you.

- In the coming weeks, Kaz grows to be fiercely protective of you.

- One time, you actually saw one of the men who had spent a night with you as you were at the Club - and Kaz immediately told his goons to throw the guy out.

- He hadn’t even done anything while there, but Kaz wanted to protect you.

- Of course, he didn’t tell anyone the reason why he threw that guy out…

- You both suffer from nightmares, Kaz pushes his own nightmares aside to do his best to comfort you with your own nightmares.

"They fade over time," he had told you one night, as you had woken up screaming and had been rocking yourself back and forth, hugging your knees. Kaz had come running to see what's the matter, and seeing your tear-stained cheeks told him everything he needed to know.

You had looked up to him, huffing. "How are you supposed to know that?"

Kaz didn't reply right away, just held his cane, running his thumb over the crow head as he looked at the floor.

"They do," he then repeated, standing up from beside you and leaving the room. You had sat there for a moment longer, before you had laid down again, attempting to continue sleeping.

- Overtime, Kaz realised he cared for you - he felt like he was your big brother.

- After Inej came back from her sea adventures, she quickly became something between a mother and an aunt to you.

- She grew to love you just as much as her boyfriend did, even when Kaz didn’t show it as much as Inej.

- Inej could offer you peer support, when Kaz protected you from harm.

- And of course, Jesper and Wylan grew close to you too.

- Sometimes, you fell asleep against Kaz’s shoulder, and he let you - you had grown close to him, and he was recovering from his own traumas, touch wasn’t that big of an issue anymore.

- Having you leaning against his shoulder, touching him through his shirt, your hair slightly touching his neck - it didn’t feel that bad.

- He barely felt water hovering over his toes. Actually he wasn’t even sure if it was water or if it was a draft blowing through the floor.

- He could touch Inej skin to skin too, so you being his unofficial little sibling could rest against him if that were to happen.

- When you were outside, he made sure you wouldn’t drift too far from them, the Barrel was full of dangers. Especially if someone from your old pleasure house would see you.

- Fortunately most knew you were under his protection.

- And as you became older, you were healing a lot faster than Kaz was - and even though he knew he wasn’t actually your brother, he sure felt like one - a proud brother.

- Kaz didn’t believe in Saints, but he still felt like something had brought him up to you, at the right time - something had just clicked.

- And now his family had one more member.

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #sab #sab x reader #sab imagine #six of crows imagine #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #reader insert #gn reader #my works

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mickstart · 7 months ago

Note

I know we have a lot of content about Ratio being protective of Aventurine (good!) but that comic you reblogged from me has me thinking about Aventurine being worried about Ratio... Aventurine, who has lost everyone he loved in horrible and violent ways throughout most of his life, being in a situation where he almost loses Ratio... _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

I am literally never not thinking about this. I think one of the main barriers to them Making It Official IS this paranoia aventurine HAS to carry - after having it drilled into him again and again - that he loses everyone he even slightly cares about at some point. He definitely feels like both he and ratio are safer if he tells himself / the world he doesn't care about ratio.

And tbh I don't know if, faced with that scenario, Aventurine would shut down or just get so completely *dangerous* in a way he often isn't. If the man who beat people to death with his own chains to survive comes out. If Ratio is so important to him that his apathy gets superceded by his intense ability to Survive and Fight because surviving now means having Ratio at his side.

I think prior to penacony he might shut down because like. He's so traumatised and resigned to the pain of it that he would just sit there and take one more tragedy and bitterly wonder why it's never HIM that gets to die.... But AFTER penacony, where ratio is literally partially responsible for giving him a reason to live, it's the second option for sure. Aventurine clutched on to life for so long and then drifted, looking for death, without a reason to keep going. Now you're going to put his new motivation in danger? Get ALL OR NOTHING-ed.

Maybe it's even more vicious a response than when he was fighting for survival. Because Ratio doesn't just represent surviving actually, he stands for LIVING, for Aventurine actually enjoying and partaking in life rather than just tolerating it. And if aventurine can beat a man to death with chains for survival, imagine what he'll do for life.

(and then imagine aventurine forcing ratio to stay awake by being as annoying as possible with a forced smile even if his voice is shaking, asking him what to do, following his instructions dutifully, getting him back to safety, refusing to leave his side, silently asking his family to look after him if the worst happens. Ratio wakes up and Aventurine is like: Dark circles wild eyes messy hair visibly hasn't bathed or slept in a few days. And the first thing drugged up ratio does is reach over and boop him on the nose and mutter "pretty")

#hsr #ratiorine #hsr aventurine #dr ratio #the second thing ratio says is 'youre the best student of field medicine I've ever had' then he passes out again #and aventurine just stares at him and then starts laughing hysterically with tears in his eyes #lauwrites

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leuke-rants · 2 months ago

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Despite creating this account to complain about TROTSH, I want to talk about other pieces of media that I have an issue with.

Case and point, Assassination Classroom:

I absolutely hate the fanon Asanos !!!

TW: MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE/ SUICIDE/ SUICIDAL THOUGHTS/ SELF HARM

They way the fandom sees and portrays Gakushuu and Gakuho is not only completely wrong but also pretty disgusting and disturbing.

Gakushuu suffers from what I call "The Draco Malfoy Effect", basically a character who isn't exactly the nicest, this character may have done some pretty bad things and most of the time they are villians/antagonists.

Gakushuu along with his father act as antagonists within the story and will do anything to achieve their goals. Both want to keep class E at the bottom of the school hierarchy and are obsessed with winning and maintaining the status quo.

Despite this Gakushuu has shown to be different from his father. Unlike Gakuho who will go to the extremes in order to achieve victory Gakushuu has lines he won't cross.

He refuses to poison the food class E has prepared and even calls the principal out on it, despite losing at the sports tournament he recognises that he and the others tried their best and doesn't let that one failure get to him and most importantly: he comes to the realisation that his father is bat-shit crazy and makes it his mission to destroy his philosophy.

In the end he swallows his pride and asks class E to "assassinate" his father's philosophy and is pleased to see that they succeeded. He stands up to Gakuho in frond of the whole class and isn't too bothered when he gets hit because this shows that his father's hold on the school is starting to crumble.

All of his personality gets stripped away from him the moment the fandom gets involved. People boil down Gakushuu's character to an uwu, sad and depressed boy who wants to kill himself because daddy is mean to him. They portray him as this omega male who needs his alpha bad boy boyfriend to save him because he is incapable of doing it himself.

Seriously, go to AO3 and search on the Gakushuu Asano tag and you"ll see what I am talking about. 90% of his fanfics are about Gakushuu being suicidal, harming himself, attempting suicide, committing suicide and just being sad.

What disgusts me the most is the way the authors handle such sensitive topics. They make Gakushuu go through all this pain just so that Karma can comfort and sweep him off his feet . In other words, they use suicide and self harm to push a ship wich is very gross. They also write Gakushuu committing suicide as a way for him to get back at his father, as if people in real life kill themselves because they want to piss off or traumatize people. Absolutely disgusting!

Gakuho's portrayal isn't any better.

At best he is seen as a neglectful father who doesn't care about his son and at worst people portray him as this evil man who hates his own child and beats him on the daily and only cares about himself.

I seriously don't understand why people think Gakuho hates his son because this isn't true.

The reason why Gakuho is so strict with his students and especially with Gakushuu is because he doesn't want any of them to end up dead like Ikeda.

The whole reason he built the school and created such an antagonistic and hostile environment is that so his students and son will grow strong at a young age and won't have to suffer like Ikeda did.

Does this excuse his actions? Absolutely not!! Despite being traumatised by his students death, Gakuho has taken things too far and has created a system that expects nothing but perfection and the students in that system are pitted against eachother for the top.

Long story short, Gakuho is not a good person and has done some horrible things, but he isn't pure evil. He doesn't beat up his son and doesn't hate him, if anything he loves Gakushuu too much (it is canon that once you make him talk about his son he won't shut up about how great his boy is) and wants to make sure he doesn't repeat the same mistakes he made with Ikeda.

In conclusion,both Gakushuu and Gakuho are complicated characters with complicated emotions who the fandom boils down to a stereotype because they lack media literacy and it pisses me off!

#this was cathartic #sometimes I hate fanon #assassination classroom #asano gakushuu #asano gakuhou #fandom critical

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7077070707 · 1 year ago

Note

Hey!if you do headcanons can you do platonic relationship headcanons for Mikasa and Reiner and maybe a parental relationship with Levi?also you don’t have to do all of them lolol (and I would prefer a fem reader please!)

aot platonic relationship headcannons

ft — levi ackerman, mikasa ackerman, reiner braun.

warnings — none, which is surprising for something aot related

a/n — MY FIRST REQUEST! I’M SO HAPPY!

LEVI ACKERMAN

you and all the rest of the gang lowkey viewed levi as a father figure of some sorts.

it makes sense since you were orphaned and young, craving for parental affection and stuff.

you all had been through a lot together, and levi’s dealt with a lot of loss in his lifetime.

he would let the beast titan chuck him like a baseball before ever admitting he held any amount of care for you (but we all know it’s in there somewhere).

he’s a great mentor and parental figure, despite being harsh.

i definitely feel like you could just go and vent to him about whatever, and he’d either just sit there and listen silently or give a few words of advice.

DEFINITELY the type to scold you. you and the crew would be doing all kinds of shit (obv spurred on by hange) and he’d be on the verge of losing his shit.

“for god’s sake, would you all just FUCK O–”

but usually when he’s annoyed by your antics, he’d just glare at you or say “tch..” under his breath.

a great hand to hand combat teacher, but you’d get absolutely shitted on whenever you’d fight him.

he’d blankly state where you went wrong, what you could’ve done, or if you missed a blind spot as he’s throwing out punches and sidestepping.

after the sessions, you’d always leave with a bunch of muscle pain and bruises.

calls you brat so frequently to the point it was a bit of a shocker whenever he’d call you by your actual name.

you and the squad have accidentally called him ‘dad’ on MANY occasions and usually he’d just side eye you.

gets so MAD whenever a place is unclean or if you’ve made a mess.

“y/n.. get over here. clean this mess you’ve made.

“on it dad!” you’d salute and he’d threaten to throw you into a titans mouth if you didn’t hurry the fuck up.

overall, a traumatised man makes an elite parental figure for a bunch of equally traumatised teenagers.

MIKASA ACKERMAN

you guys met in the cadet corps, and you were basically in awe with how she seemed to do everything so effortlessly.

you noticed how she hung around with eren and armin a lot, but stayed alone whenever all the girls stayed in the barracks.

it wasn’t that she was hostile, she was just quiet and probably passed the eyes of a lot of people.

you decided to make your way up to her and strike up a conversation. at first, you could tell she was quite reserved, but overtime as your friendship blossomed you grew fond of her dry humour and passive expression.

through mikasa, you also grew quite close to eren and armin.

through you, mikasa got closer to the rest of the squad.

DEFINITELY the mother hen of the group.

constantly badgering you over injuries you suffered, or telling you to eat or to get some rest.

would probably slam you during training sessions, but would try her best to help you with technique and forms.

i feel like she’s the type of person to ominously hover behind you as you’re talking to someone else and kinda just stare at them until they get uncomfortable and leave.

it wouldn’t even be on purpose, she just wanted to hang around you silently.

HOWEVER, could definitely scare off someone who’s visibly pissing you off with a silent death stare.

the best person to tell secrets to, she would never tell a soul.

late night talks where you’d just talk about everything and anything under the stars.

she’d open up to you about eren and the mixed feelings she felt about him.

you’d also open up to her about whatever, and she’d be the best listener.

gives very straightforward advice but it’s oddly comforting.

overall, a 10/10 friend in whether you want someone to confide in, or someone to beat a dude’s ass.

REINER BRAUN (before the armoured titan reveal)

best older brother figure!!!!!

for some reason, it felt easy to trust him.

he was just a dude everyone liked and respected, since he was so good natured and down to earth.

he’d also give crazy bear hugs.

you’d widen your arms for a casual hug and he’d absolutely engulf you.

it may or may not seem like it, but he’s got a great sense of humour.

i feel like he’d be scarily good at card games.

he’d teach you how to shuffle and how to play loads of random games.

the only time you were ever able to beat him was in a game of snap, but that was only because he sneezed the moment the cards were matched up and you slapped your hands on top of them.

you cheer and celebrate, and he just lets you have it despite the unfair circumstances.

but don’t think he’ll ever let you win again.

has really good vibes and is just a guy you can’t hate.

overall, a very great and supportive buddy.

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myddle · 4 months ago

Text

Okay Uzi, lets start Murdering, some Drones

The finale of Murder Drones has come and gone, this show has successfully buried it's way into my cerebral cortex, and I will now think about it until I die

Anyway, lets speculate on what the fuck just happened in Episode 8 (And Episode 7 a bit too I guess)

Warning: Biggest Post Yet, Spoilers, Opinions

I Was Wrong About The Admin Thing, And I'm Okay With That

Last time I did a post like this, I speculated that Uzi's Administrator status would be the key to victory against the Absolute Solver. In truth, it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lore point, which makes sense in hindsight, because the whole Admin thing was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it lore point to begin with. This kind of environmental storytelling is good to put in a text, of course, but casual viewers need to be able to follow the plot without it. Truthfully, this is actually an area where the show usually stumbles a little; if there's one criticism I have for Murder Drones, it's that it show-don't-tells a little too hard sometimes. Luckily, this show is good enough for me to want to excuse it's flaws by any means neccessary! FOR EXAMPLE,

Khan Doorman: Mischaracterised, Or Traumatised?

So, Khan was kind of acting a little too badass at the end there, huh? This drone was a delusional door maniac at the start of the series, but now he's this stoic badass with a goofy side? Huhwhat? Explain THAT, Smart Genius!

How about I do? Call it a theory, but I think that THIS, is the real Khan, and the dingus we saw at the start of the series was a broken shadow of him.

Khan was a respected man, seeming leader of the Worker Defense Force, front of the line in finding Nori and Yeva just after the Core Collapse, and say what you will, he can build a good door.

And then tragedy strikes. The Dissassembly Drones strike, and while the WDF fends them off, they are not without casualty. Nori is devoured by nanite acid, and Khan beats her head in to end her suffering. The worst has happened.

While Nori's heart sneaks away to go make the plot happen, Khan spirals. His efforts to fight the DD scourge have failed, so he turns to doors. He doubles, triples down, becomes obsessed with the only thing that hasn't failed him. His daughter still wants to take the fight to the enemy, but Khan rejects the thought so hard, he rejects Uzi with it, hence his "doors>uzi" bullshit in the first episode (for the record, I'm not justifying it, I'm just explaining it, he was still a piece of shit for this).

By the time "Pilot" rolls around, Khan has been in a door-obsessed fugue state for... maybe years, I don't think we ever find out how long ago Nori's "death" was. But by now, he's barely functional; Uzi's second excuse to go outside literally only worked because it was door themed. His fear and delusion almost kill his only remaining family.

But as the events of the show go on, Khan is shook out of routine, and his stupor begins to fall away. In "Heartbeat", he defends his daughter's eccentricities. In "The Promening", he clumsily attempts to be part of Uzi's life again, and watches her build an alliance with N and V. In "Cabin Fever", he opens up to Uzi, revealing the darkness that haunts him and admitting to his mistakes. By "Mass Destruction" his mind has mostly cleared, and while he's still a door-loving goofball, he trusts his daughter, knows what he needs to do, and is ready to kick some Solver ass.

Wow, turns out I had a lot to say about Khan friggin' Doorman, do excuse me. Alright, onto the actual finale, now.

And Now, A Summarisation Of My Thoughts On "Nuzi"

yes

TradJedy: A Bootlicker To The End

I've seen some people are unsatisfied with J's villanous and, lets be honest, kinda pathetic role in the finale, but as sad as it is, I think it was true to her character. J is, above all, two things: Tessa's closest, favourite drone, and a corporate underling for some reason. Cyn wearing Tessa's skin was no doubt the most demoralising for J; Tessa is dead, the killer is pantomiming the life she never had, and you can't stop her. Plus, J likely knows better than anyone just how powerful the Solver is, how futile resisting it's conquest could be. But, to have a place alongside it? An offer of safety? Why wouldn't she take that offer? Hell, even V was tempted by it; when Cyn confronts her, she almost instinctively says "I can still...", as if her survival instinct is telling her to serve. J simply gave in.

Anyway, onto some details:

"If I promised you anything, it tricked me too."

I've seen people get confused by this line, but I think J is speaking on behalf of Eldritch J, formerly the J clone that led N & V's DD squad. That J seemed to fully buy the JCJenson cover story, at least to me, and J Prime appears to have deduced that. I don't think she has all of Eldritch J's memory, though; that "PRIOR HAZARD" poppup strikes me as the impersonal knowledge of an error report, rather than personal experience of getting blown to pieces.

"I never needed either of you."

Yeah, buuuuuullshit. J definitely doesn't really mean this. She's in bridge-burning mode, trying to convince herself more than anything that she's moved on. That offer of safety has gained a heavy price of two old friends, and J is pushing herself to pay it.

Local Autistic Teen Fights God And Wins

This uno-reverse-card moment felt a little out of nowhere at first, but on a rewatch, I think I get it. While the past few minutes fighting Cyn were utterly nightmarish, and some of the most gruesome stuff I've ever seen get done to humanoids, it did teach Uzi one thing; resisting the CallbackPing is suprisingly easy. Before this episode, it seemed like the USB Patch was the only hope for escaping the Solver's clutches, but apparently strong willpower and personality is enough to stop it temporarily, and that gets a lot easier to pull off once you know that you can do that. A single "Bite me" or the hand-hold of love is enough to stop Cyn's advance, and once Uzi fully realises that, it stops scaring her. In addition, Uzi's use of the [NULL] shows that she is a very quick learner, and can easily adapt to Cyn's tricks, allowing her to pull this "no-u" and turn the tables on Cyn. This quick thinking is also what wins the battle against Cyn in the end, catching on to how she uses the teleport.

Teleport... that seems familiar... hey, WAIT A SEC-

Doll Is Alive And I'm Not Coping; A Thesis

Everybody has pointed to this frame after Uzi eats Cyn's heart; the box that says "UZI DRN" briefly says "RSN DOLL" instead. But funnily enough, that isn't even the first thing that made me suspect that Doll might still be alive deep within Uzi's code.

If you look closely at Uzi's new gradient eyes, you'll notice that thEY'RE SO PRETTTYYY AAAHHH <3 <3 <3

*ahem*

If you look closely at Uzi's new gradient eyes, you'll notice that a subtle but distinct tint of red sits in between the yellow and purple ends. Admittedly, you can also see pink and orange, so it's not airtight evidence, but it was enough to get me speculating. Obviously, that RSN DOLL frame basically confirms it on it's own, but I found some other stuff too, and I thought it was interesting enough to share.

Uzi consumed Cyn's heart (some of it anyway), and Cyn lived on inside Uzi, possessing her tail in the post-credits. Back in "Mass Destruction", Cyn consumed Doll's heart, and while the scenarios aren't one-to-one, it can be reasonably inferred that Doll might live on in Cyn, who now lives on in Uzi, resulting in a situation oddly reminiscent... of Russian Dolls. BWAM BWAM BWAAAAAAM

It's thematically resonant, which means it's basically canon, right?

[There used to be another thing here about Solver Powers, but it turned out it was a lot less airtight than I thought, so I'm moving it to another post. Thanks to @1-800-hellyeah for the catch]

In conclusion, Doll lives on in the depths of Uzi's code, and that matters. The ramifications of this are unclear, and there's another thing with Doll in the credits, but we'll get to that in a moment with...

The Credits Scene Lightning Round

The credits are full of scenes of the surviving cast enjoying life after the Battle For Copper 9, and while I haven't heard anything about their canonicity... I mean, they look canon. Liam has stated that this is the end of the series, and I'm inclined to believe him, but a lot of this stuff feels like plot hooks he could pick up in a second season someday, if he wanted. Or maybe he just left them to feed the fanfic crowd long term. Either way, lets see what we've got to chew on!

J Prime, Alone

Man, despite how much of a prick she was, I feel kinda bad for J. She gave up everything for the Solver, only for the Solver to get defeated anyway, at least for now. She's repairing one of the ships she destroyed, presumably to leave the planet, but where is she gonna go? What is she gonna do? Fake Tessa's JCJenson credentials imply that the company might still be operating out in space somewhere, but trying to pal up with them feels like a long shot, especially since J Prime probably has some blood on her hands from Cyn's orders. ...What's left for her?

Goopy Ghost Doll

Okay, so if Doll is in Uzi's code, how is she also here? I honestly have no real clue, but my best guess is that since Uzi is arguably the most powerful entity in the setting now, Doll could utilise a fraction of Uzi's power to project herself out into the world, unnoticed? Maybe? That's the best I've got. Anyway, she's probably gonna try to kill V again, knowing her.

And don't say it's just a hallucination or something; everything* in the show has either been real, or an illusion with a clear source. They've been very good about not pulling the hallucination card, and I'm inclined to trust they wouldn't do it now.

*I just remembered the weird skeleton thing behind V in "Home", I'm not sure what that counts as

Yeva's Corpse, Or Lack Thereof

People have seen this shot of Doll's house, and said that the absence of one of the covered bodies implies Yeva is also alive. While Nori proves that your body doesn't even need to be missing for you to maybe be alive... I don't know. I'm hesitant. If she's alive, why get her body back now of all times? It feels like there are other much simpler explanations, like maybe her body is just on the floor now, 'cause everything started floating at the start of the episode, and actually, didn't N pull the cover off of those two, anyway? Maybe he put it back, I don't know. Make of this what you will, I got nothin'.

Eldritch J, Alone

Oh, SHE'S alive. Now THIS is interesting. Her heart did survive the explosion in "Heartbeat", and I guess nobody's been down to the Cryosleep wing since. Understandable, I wouldn't exactly be eager myself. But it's possible Eldritch J was able to recollect all the matter that Cyn "gathered" with her back then, and has grown back to full size.

Now that Cyn isn't around to run the Solver, Eldritch J is probably fully sentient and aware now. That must have sucked to wake up to; last she remembers, she got shot in the face by a purple gremlin, and now she's this fucking thing. Oh man, my brain is already writing the fanfic where J Prime finds her whilst infiltrating the Outpost for ship parts. (That concept is free to grab it anyone wants to)

Alright, lets finish this off...

Cyn

I've long wondered about Cyn's true nature, whether Cyn is a remorseless mastermind or a tragic puppet of the Solver's true will... The finale didn't give us a straight answer on this - The two seemed narratively entwined in Cyn's heart, but in the post credits scene she seems... friendly. Friendliest she's been, potentially. Plus, The illusory camera heads appear in Uzi's reflection seperately, implying a seperation between Cyn and Solver.

After everything, I think I've personally settled on somewhere in the middle. Cyn was a willing accomplice to the Solver... for as much as that can mean for Cyn. In "Home", Cyn is contacted by the Solver on the brink of death, and is offered salvation, to not be discarded like she was before. Her life before this was likely very short; her owners probably threw her out pretty quickly due to her "quirks". Tessa tried to give her the love she gave to her other drones, but it was already too late; Cyn would spend her formative years under the influence of the Solver, so it's no wonder she ended up so morally twisted. She talked about her "back-ups" to excuse the deaths and suffering of her fellow drones... was it an excuse? Or does she genuinely think that made it okay? How much does she understand... anything?

She's acted without remorse, but she's only had the full perspective of a detached eldritch being that only cares for consumption. But even then, her personality shines through. She seems to have genuine affection for N, even if she expresses it in horrid ways. Her alignment with the Solvers goals seems to come from a personal desire for revenge on humanity, considering how she plays out the gala. And despite the circumstances, she's visibly enjoying herself in "Absolute End", having an absolute blast fighting the trio. It's like a game to her.

Her crimes are great, but she's hardly the only one in this show with a kill count. I believe that if someone gave her that USB Patch, then sat her down and explained how reality works, she would have a full change of heart and crisis of remorse.

In a way, she was a lot like J; a willing, but coerced minion to the Solver of The Absolute Fabric. The Void. The Exponential End.

I like to call it The Voiceless One.

#murder drones #uzi murder drones #n murder drones #doll murder drones #v murder drones #cyn murder drones #solver murder drones #khan murder drones #nori murder drones #yeva murder drones #murder drones spoilers #murder drones theory #local autistic teen fights god and wins #yes the title is a deltarune meme reference #murder drones mass destruction #murder drones absolute end

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