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hyperpotamianarch · 2 months ago

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So. I am not immune to peer pressure, sadly.

You'd think it means I'm going to be writing a continuation of the Camp Nephilim story, since it's my most upvoted post. Sadly, you'll be wrong. I do not actually have characters or a story there. Feel free to take on this idea and use it in your fanfics, if you want. You might need to remember that it's partially a crossover with an Israeli book, but the most you need to know is: there are Jewish demons, Shedim, going around (along with many other types of demons, really). The details are based on the Talmud, Midrashim and various other Jewish sources about demons, so you can read up on that if you want to take it into account.

So, not Camp Nephilim. Instead, I found that the numbers Percy Jackson seems to make persuaded me to go a little more forward with my Bianca lives fic idea. As is my wont with it, I'm trying to explore the most loyal to canon option, which is why Bianca is still a Hunter of Artemis. She is also, as obligated, lost.

Now, I already wrote a post on it, linked here. I also started rereading the original series as preparation and may have a few notes about the Titan's Curse. However, right now I want to talk about Clarisse La Rue and her own diving into the labyrinth!

Before I continue, @demigodsanswer has posted their own headcanon for what happened. I'm not using that because I discovered it's kind of contradicted by canon, but it's still a good take on it, so I recommend you read it. It reminded me of just how scared Clarisse should be in it as well.

First thing first: continuity. If you actually consider the timeline of PJO, you'll find that Clarisse actually found Chris Rodriguez wandering the desert at the same summer of her quest. Funnily enough, it's also the same summer Percy and Annabeth saw him on the Princess Andromeda. This slightly messes with the timeline, but considering how compressed the book is, it's not really that bad. As far as we know, Luke sent Chris on his merry way before he even caught Percy and Co. in Miami. Meaning, when he first sent scouts to the Labyrinth, Luke was hoping to ressurect Kronos with the Golden Fleece, which is actually an irrelevant detail but whatever.

Either way, the book says Chris was found in full Greek armor, wandering by Clarisse's mother's house, mumbling something about a string. There are multiple options to what that might mean. The first is that, even though she's a year-round camper, Clarisse chose to go back to her mother's house for some time. Likely only on a visit, otherwise her brother would've said she went home after her quest. Obviously Rick was using it for forshadowig purposes, but still. Another option for who found Chris would be Clarisse's mother - who might be one of the mortals able to see through the Mist. I think the first option makes more sense, though.

So, Clarisse just went back home after her first quest. Note, I'm assuming it's her first because there were no quests between Luke's and Percy's and I believe Clarisse isn't old enough to have been on one prior to Luke. She definitely saw the quest as a way to prove herself to her father, but we don't really know about her mother (unless you go by another post from Demigodsanswer. She apparently has a thing for Clarisse, I don't know if she has similar entries for other side characters). Maybe she feels like she needs to prove something to her as well and thought that now she did. Maybe she wanted to relax after a stressful quest. Maybe a near-death experience caused her to want to reconnect, we seriously have no idea why she's a year rounder and it could be she doesn't like her mother.

So, Clarisse is in Phoenix when a guy she new from camp suddenly appears, talking about a string. She already knows Chris is with Luke, I assume - Percy probably informed Camp on that. So now she has a madman on her hands... And here continuity problems start to pile up.

Annabeth said that Clarisse found Chris "last summer", in BotL. This is essential, because a. Chris hadn't met Dionysus at all until the end of BotL, even though Mr. D was only sent on his super important mission after the winter solstice, and b. Annabeth said she helped Clarisse in her mission. Clarisse was on her mission during tTC, when Annabeth was abducted by Dr. Thorn. The latter isn't that much of a problem, though - it's very likely that Annabeth helped Clarisse research before delving into the labyrinth. Actaully, her absence throughout the book helps explaining how come she never told Percy about it at all until BotL - she seriously didn't have time even if she wanted to. The former, however, indicates that Clarisse couldn't have left Chris at camp until after her mission was over. In hindsight, this might be why Demigodsanswer chose to portray finding Chris as happening after the Winter Solstice, while Clarisse's exploration of the Labyrinth and the reasearch occured earlier. It does create a wench in the cause-and-effect cycle, but it solves the problem of how come Dionysus only met crazy Chris at the end of BotL.

All that doesn't really lead us anywhere, so... let's see, what canon explanation could be found for not bringing Chris to camp for three months, while not contradicting canon in every way? Honestly... I don't know. Maybe... maybe Clarisse thought they might execute Chris as a traitor? Maybe Chris was somehow in an untransportable state for over three months? Maybe Clarisse thought she might need his help in the Labyrinth, for some reason? Otherwise... I mean, Chiron seemed to believe - rightly - that Dionysus could heal Chris. Why wouldn't Clarisse think that feasible, and thus want to bring Chris over to Dionysus? It's not like he regularly threatens to turn campers into dolphins. He only done so in extreme situations.

For whatever reason, though, Clarisse doesn't bring him back to camp. Maybe she goes back herself, or contacts Annabeth via Iris-Net. I think it's safe to assume she took some time to research before entering. We only know of two enterances she knew of, though it's not impossible to assume that she went through some others. She was alone, however - right after her quest, which she also went on alone - and she got lost there.

I don't know how long she was there, or what she encountered - but whatever it is, she probably told Annabeth about it, and it scarred her. And of course, that is what actually is relevant to our story.

If you've read my original stream-of-thought post about the Bianca is alive fic, you might remember I suggested having Bianca team up with Luke's people. The main reason I had for that is that I wanted Bianca to have some parallels to Atalanta, and two of her central myths are about groups of people she went on quests with: the Calydonian Boar hunt and the Argonauts. So, I wanted to try and team Bianca up with someone. Luke's army seemed a more likely place to have misogyny trouble, but that would be really stupid. After all, every soul joining them brings them a step closer to bringing Kronos back. Clarisse, on the other hand, is exactly the sort of person to be angry over having the glory stolen from her. I did realize that I can't actually have Bianca join a large group, because Luke explicitly says that larger groups tend to have more trouble, which is why he sent lone scouts.

So, I formed in my head a general idea of Bianca and Clarisse meeting and how it would go. Part of the idea includes Bianca killing the Calydonian boar - only for some reason, at this point, Clarisse thinks the boar was sent by Ares to help her, as his sacred animal. I was somewhat hesitant about it after realizing how desparate she's going to be - but honestly, at this point her desparation would probably lead to her going off the hinges attempting to kill Bianca. Hmm. So yeah, I might be going with that. It'll also fit the theme of Cadmus, to a certain degree. Clarisse would fail killing Bianca, of course, though I'm not sure exactly how. We'll see.

I do think I really need to plan the Minos parts first, though. He's a secret power behind things at this point, and considering Binca's life effect on Nico's plotline at the time... This needs some pondering.

Anyway, thank you for reading! Have a good day!

#pjo #bianca di angelo #what if bianca was alive?#bianca's hunt #(a tentative title)#clarisse la rue #the titans curse #the battle of the labyrinth #chris rodriguez #cadmus #atalanta #still working on it #a slight mention of camp nephilim #though I do not headcanon Bianca as Jewish #no one talks about the Jewsade #arch writes #sort of #arch's unfinished stories

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nenilein · 2 years ago

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since it's pride month, do you have any lgbtq+ headcanons/interpretations for the puyo cast?

I got this one before pride month, so I was waiting till it's actually June to answer it.

Let me preempt this by saying that I don't really like making "headcanons" that would create contradiction in how I read the text as presented by the writers, because something that doesn't gel with the source material in a way that enhances my experience with it isn't a "headcanon" to me but an AU.

(I infamously once made a post on here where I was yelling about how people need to stop calling their AUs "headcanons" that went kinda viral... oops.)

(Don't look for it, that was YEARS ago)

So, while I love reading, for example, Arle x Rulue fanfics, lesbian Rulue would be an AU to me, not a headcanon, because Rulue being into Satan is just an undeniable reality of the source material.

(That said, bisexual or pan Rulue WOULD be a headcanon)

Likewise, due to how extremely proud Raffina is of being a "lady", trans girl Raffina would be a headcanon, but trans boy Raffina would be an AU... Anyway, I am rambling. This is just how I define those terms for myself.

So, let's move on to the queer readings I have for the Puyo characters (it's a lot).

Arle is asexual and aromantic. Schezo is asexual.

This one is obvious, I even drew art for that a couple days ago. It's not just a case of me projecting my own sexuality onto "my favorite characters" either; Schezo and Arle aren't even close to my favorites, I'm more partial to the Primp characters. However, in most of the games, with some sparse exceptions from the Compile era (where characterization was generally inconsistent and spotty), Arle and Schezo are written in a way that I can only describe as "arch-asexual".

Whenever Arle is written as she is currently understood (spunky, freedom loving, adventurous), she never shows interest in relationships of any kind. She outright calls Schezo and Rulue "sexy" multiple times in both, the Compile era and the Sega era, but that doesn't seem to make her feel anything, she uses the terms as blunt descriptors that don't have much meaning to her personally. As an asexual, I do find that very relatable. In general, Arle's only one true love seems to be the concept of adventure (especially dungeon crawling) itself. In the novel "Everyone's Dreams Come True", the projection the dream mist tries to entice her with when its sleep curse fails to grip onto her is a projection of the entrance to an underground dungeon. In the Web Original Manzai Shorts, when she tries to explain the concept of a "wedding" to Amitie, she is incredibly awkward about it, like she's never even considered it herself before. She really doesn't show any interest in "partnering" up with anyone (other than Carbuncle) for life.

Meanwhile, Schezo's entire running gag simply doesn't work if he's not asexual. His slip ups are funny because he does NOT mean it that way, but is really only interested in three things: Power, cute stuff and food (in that order). The two times in the Compile era where he's not written as "asexual" infamously are hated by fans because they ruin his entire characterization: Saturn Madou's portrayal of Schezo is a black sheep for the entire franchise, both in the Japanese and English fandoms, and the one line he has in Nazo Puyo Tsuu that contradicts his otherwise asexual portrayal (I won't even repeat what he says...) makes absolutely no damn sense, even in context. A Schezo who portrays actual genuine interest in sexual matters in canon materials is a badly written Schezo. We have empirical proof of that.

That said, unlike with Arle, I don't feel comfortable also calling Schezo aromantic, because... I feel like he just hasn't had the room to explore whether he wants someone in his life or not yet. He had the Dark Mage business forced upon him at a very young age. He's isolated himself from people in a way that made it hard for him to start connecting again once people actually did come back into his life. When he thinks someone (I think it was Draco, but I forget) is flirting with him in Waku Puyo Dungeon, he seems genuinely flustered, not because he's interested, but because he's never thought anyone ever would act like that towards him (and unlike with Arle, that moment doesn't disrupt his characterization at all), and when he thinks Ms. Accord is flirting with him in Puyo Puyo 15th he has a minor meltdown, because he's not even sure if he wants to turn her down, but also thinks he just shouldn't have a romantic partner as the dark mage... So yeah, I think Schezo still needs time to figure stuff out for himself.

Satan is bigender or genderfluid

While he's portraying a super-masculine image whenever he's on screen, he's also shown zero qualms about slipping into more feminine roles, and openly and happily admits that he wanted to LARP as a princess in distress for Arle to save in Chronicle. His "Satan Saturn" alt in Quest is also really girlish, with the bow and the ponytail and the cherry blossoms, and he seems to be enjoying himself... As an ancient, possibly primordial demon lord, I think it would be weirder if he didn't have a rather lax approach to gender, tbh.

Oh, fun fact, in Madou Monogatari 2, the first time Satan ever appeared, his description of the person he wants to marry does not mention gender at any point. His only condition is that they're powerful, beautiful, wise and intelligent enough to make it to the bottom level of his dungeon in the Layla ruins...

Klug is a baby gay.

His babysitter-crush on Lemres is so palpable, it's downright painful. :'D Even Feli sees him as a romantic rival! The way swoons about Lemres during Tet 2 was quite telling as well.

There are a couple of moments in 15th where Klug portrays interest in women (specifically, older women...) but those just stink of comphet to me and are genuinely just extremely awkward moments that I am glad have never been addressed again since. 15th was only the second time Klug was more than a minor side character and I feel his characterization wasn't quite settled yet back then, so even aside from this, there is a lot of stuff in there that generally "feels wrong" in comparison to how the character has been consistently written in all materials since then. Even in his White Day alt in Quest, he only talks about how being popular by giving girls chocolate gifts will give him a sense of authority AND bring him closer to Lemres, so yeah. In retrospect, I absolutely read those awkward moments in 15th as comphet. He's a baby gay with a babysitter crush on Lemres and will hopefully find himself a nice guy his own age as he grows up.

Amitie will grow up to be poly and pan

In the drama CDs and novels its shown that Amitie absolutely doesn't understand why anyone would want to have only one romantic partner, and when she first hears about the concept of a "wedding" (which she apparently has never been confronted with directly before then??) she immediately wants to have one with her entire class.

Rulue attributes this to Amitie being "still a child", but I don't see it that way, given this behavior persists for two novels in succession. Even when Amitie shows signs of a specific crush on Sig, it always comes with the caveat on "I want to get others in on it too!"

So yeah. No way this girl won't have amassed a "harem" of boy- girl- and other-friends by the time she's off age and certified as a sorceress...

Raffina and Lidelle give off trans girl vibes, and Raffina is probably a lesbian

Raffina's determination to prove herself as a "lady" and Lidelle's fear of having certain of her physical features be "seen" seem to connect really strongly to a lot of my trans friends as analogue to their own experiences and I can totally see it. Portrayals like that would just blend in perfectly with their characterization.

As for lesbian Raffina, it's just a vibe I get from her. The few times she mentions handsome men, it seems more like she wants them as a status symbol, but has no actual interest in being with them. Even when she thinks the prince Otomo is looking for is "handsome", she has 0 interest in helping the man search for the prince until Otomo offers her a reward. Then, "Everyone's Dreams Come True" showcasts it even more clearly when the dream she is trapped in includes her "keeping" an army of young bodybuilders as "servants", and enjoying the fact that they want to be with her soooo badly, while she has no intention of ever giving them the time of day, holding the fact that they are "not worthy of her" over their heads. Meanwhile, when she's with other girls (like Rulue or Lidelle post Fever 2) she seems far more appreciative.

Either Maguro or Risukuma is a trans boy. Either one of them.

I don't think about this one too often, but it would make sense. Maguro was bullied as a kid for "looking like a girl", and a friend of mine has this amazing headcanon that the experiment that turned Risukuma into a squirrelbear was actually homebrew instant HRT. Amazing, 10/10.

I'll admit, this is partially just me having fun with the fact that Maguro and Ris were originally written as girls before plans for Puyo Puyo 7 changed, but, hey! It doesn't contradict with anything, so why not?

Ecolo is Ecolo

'Nuff said. There is no gender that can contain the absolute glitch in spacetime that is Ecolo.

The fact that Ecolonosuke (one of Team Ecolo, who all represent aspects of Ecolo's personality) is canonically nonbinary helps, too!

Seo and Accord are lesbians and they will get married in this essay I will-

I AM SORRY, BUT SEO CANONICALLY NEEDS ACCORD TO REMIND HER TO EAT FOOD OR SHE WILL DIE.

THEY ARE THE GASLIGHT AND THE GIRLBOSS, THEY BELONG TOGETHER (Popoi is the gatekeep)

Eight = GAY

I'm sorry, Quest is not even SUBTLE about this one!

The day Eight shuts up about how badly he wants to get closer to Zero and his genius is the day he finally forgets to breathe between his words and perishes.

Okay, so these are all the big ones. If I forgot anything, it's because I don't think about it often or because it's canon anyway (cough, cough, dapper bones...)

#neni replies #puyo puyo #pride month

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avesomnia-inhoramortis · 5 months ago

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[ooc]

One of the things I'm definitely discovering/exploring more as I write Trina is the fine line between medicine and poison. There truly is no difference, it's the amount and what it's used for that decides things. Chemotherapy is using radiation as a mostly-benevolent poison, just as an example. So the contrast between Trina's addictive poison and the idea of endless abundance in Miquella's blood fascinates me. He got the abstract addictive qualities in the form of charm, I think, but Trina got the physical addictive qualities. They're both curses, and maybe even both facets of the same curse.

One thing I also really want to explore sometime is the idea that Trina isn't just an Empyrean. She's not a vessel for anything- it's arguable that Miquella is a vessel for her. Trina is sleep. Or at least the material component the game calls sleep, dream-mist and poisons and such. And I think she's sleep in the same way all rot is the Rot god, and all giantsflame is the Fell God, and all glintstone is the stuff of stars.

She's closer to an Outer God, I think, than an Empyrean. But she's a baby one in the grand scheme of things, with little idea what she is or what she's doing and a lot of mortal attachments to process. She's a new Outer God, and honestly not doing too bad for herself in that regard.

I definitely have a headcanon that she's interacted with the Fell God once or twice, and it's the closest thing she has to a mentor on the topic.

#[ooc]

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tobiasdrake · 1 year ago

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I kind of want to break stuff out of spite. Like, even if we fail, our deaths won't untrash the place. It will be a lot of work to get it all livable again. So that's a small victory.

Then again, judging by all those cobwebs and the swirling clouds, I'm not sure the Dweller uses this place for much anyway. I'm pretty sure the mist is supposed to be spooky horror mist but given the state of this place, I think it's just a thick cloud of dust.

Seems pretty obvious that her main hobby is just wandering around replacing and relighting the oh my god why are there so many candles in order to maintain the spooky atmosphere.

In any case, there's an interesting book over there, so we should--

--burn it, apparently. The books are a trap.

*sigh* No wonder Roro doesn't read them.

Well, that's me eating crow. The spooky mist vanished after we burned the books. I should make a note of that for the future.

"Old Person Physical Media is Evil". Got it.

Oh, I would but I'm jazzed up on caffeine now. Thanks for the offer though.

In any case, we're now set for a full-scale de-cursing.

And yet, I'm clearing it out of each room with less than a minute of mayhem. It really makes you stop and think about how much more effort goes into creation than destruction. Violence can unmake in seconds what took weeks or months to build.

I would be mad about that given that you're a ghost but Garl is the best chef this side of ever, so you've got yourself a deal just so I can show his talents off. You're lucky I'm egotistic.

Eh, I know someone who eats banana and mayo sandwiches. We all have our weird tastes.

Fuckin' told you. Don't mind me, I'll be over here beaming with pride as if I was the one who somehow turned that nonsense of a recipe into something not only edible but phenomenal.

:D I am such a great manager!

A small detail that I really appreciate is that the Waltzers come in both opposite- and same-sex varieties. That's neat. Even among the undead, love is love.

Well, now we know where all the Maleficent Thorns in the forest came from. The Botanical Horror's responsible. I bet these things are, like, its buds.

That's fine.

Me and my buds are gonna torch this whole place.

And Teaks will record it all. For history.

OH NO THAT DEFINITELY NEEDS TO DIE. That's about an 8 on the Botanophobia Scale right there. FUCK THIS THING.

Now to see how Erlina and Bugraves are doing. Bet their part isn't going so well, given that we need some reason to explore the other part of the mansion before we fight the Dweller.

Oh. Uh. Bye? Didn't expect her to peace out this soon.

We should probably have asked her to take Garl with her, if it's. Y'know. Time. I really don't want him losing another eye on my account.

...she might be trying to avoid Moraine, given that she waiting until we were isolated from him to pop in and then popped back out before we hooked back up with him.

I suggested that she might be Yoyo earlier, but she also could be Momo. I still don't think she's either though, on account of her visible youth.

Momo's kid, perhaps? I dunno. I do think she's trying to avoid the more professional Solstice Warriors.

Thanks, we did it all by ourselves. Yep. I'm just awesome like that. Zale helped. A little.

No more postponing, Dweller. By the unstoppable might of the moon and slightly more stoppable might of the sun, we're here to conquer!

This does seem about that time.

Probably should have asked Serai to take him with her. We'd have to come up with an excuse for what became of him, but I'm sure Moraine would buy, "He realized it was a mistake to be here and bailed."

Simple enough. You hold up the piñata while the rest of us celebrate my birthday.

It's the winter solstice. We're nowhere near it. But Erlina, Brugaves, and Garl all missed like ten of them so I'm owed a belated party.

Aww, you shouldn't have. It's just what I wanted.

Wait, is this not going well? I thought this was going well. Okay, so maybe I was a little cocky but we seem to be doing pretty well.

So that's a yes. Something is definitely going awry that I am not aware of.

Any way we could, like, blast a hole in the ceiling?

HA! Just like that, our poor decision to bring a normie along is fully vindicated. If we win this battle, I am never letting Moraine live this down.

...sorry, I'll stop being smug and focus on the fight.

HOLY SHIT, GARL.

I'll stop being smug and focus on the fight but you'd better prepare yourself for at least a week of insufferable smugness when we're done here, Moraine!

You know what? I take back that piñata stuff. I regret cracking this thing open to see what's inside. I liked her better when all the disgusting horror was on the inside.

Nowhere to go now but through. We're committed to this.

With, like, a Moonerang? I don't remember this part of my--

WHY NOT!? @_@ WHAT THE FUCK, SERAI! I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS. We did an aggravated robbery together and every--

You know, maybe I need to learn to be a better judge of character.

#sea of stars #drake plays sea of stars

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juniorig0327 · 3 months ago

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A Percy Jackson AU I’m actually in the middle of writing right now (slight WOTTG spoilers for no.2)

It’s honestly a combination of so many little things put together to make one big AU. I don’t thinks it gonna some huge multi chapter fic, it lowkey just might be just a group of one shots put together since it’s easier to write like that. Probably not gonna post a wip since I don’t have much but I think it’s gonna be fun to finish writing.

1. There’s no mist, none at all. Why? Probably because I’ve been getting into wayy too much spider-man and Batman recently and getting into the mist being down, the possible discrimination of demigods and them being outcasted, and the angst is too much for me to ignore tbh.

2. Sally Jackson becoming a student of Hekate. Honestly unless there’s something I’m HEAVILY missing I didn’t understand the implication that if Sally was a student of Hekate that Percy wouldn’t exist but maybe I’m just dumb lol. I feel like it would be really interesting and maybe it opening up during/after WW2 simply because of mortals being afraid and willing to interact with the godly world. Maybe Sally’s parents having some connection to the Greek world (I also had a HC that they might’ve been in some way since they were killed on a plane, in Zeus’s domain, the sky)

So that would be fun to play with. So yeah Percy would still exist as a son of Poseidon but this is too interesting of a lore drop to pass up.

3. This isn’t an AU but just a little something in general I want to explore going along with 1 and 2, that being WW2, the affects on the demigod world, and the probably many legacies still roaming around from probably the many kids I feel like, Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades had during WW2 to fight against each other with.

4. CHB Jason. I always saw CHB!Jason as such an interesting concept and I don’t remember how Thalia lost Jason and if it was ever explained but CHB Jason brings me joy in my heart so…

I love canon Jason and he’s grown on me since TLH (I haven’t read TOA yet I might try and read them soon tho)

5. (Kinda of) Roman Percy and the Roman side of the Second Titan War. We don’t know much about their side besides Jason fighting a Trojan Sea monster and them toppling Saturn’s throne and I always found that interesting because of the fact that the Romans actually worship and celebrate Saturn.

That’s why I feel like that the Roman 2nd Titan war would be extremely different from what we got for CHB and not more so a battle against someone trying to take over the gods but maybe Saturn fading or being faded and someone trying to use Saturn’s powers instead? Maybe a civil war which causes a split instead? Two factions fighting each other and calling upon darker forces to attack the Romans. The dark Roman half being found by Luke and helping him on the CJ side of thems? Not sure but I think I read an AU where Poseidon sent Percy to CJ to protect him from the other gods so ima steal that a little lol.

There are other things I want to incorporate too like the 2nd Titan War’s prophecy playing out differently, Riptide being a cursed blade in a way (kinda like the movies but not really idk man I found it interesting to expand and revamp for my own purposes), and Luke and Percy’s relationship which I feel like could’ve been more. I do understand how the first five Percy Jackson books were about family and I do want to keep that concept but I do want a bit more focus on Luke and Percy and their parallels (and a sword fight where Percy wins because I don’t think Percy ever actually beat Luke.)

Anyways I don’t wanna spoil everything but that’s it. Thinking about it i would prob have to split this up into more than one chapter…

I also want to do HOO at one point because I feel like these big changes would have a huge effect on HOO so yeah.

Okay that’s it frfr

#pjo hoo toa #juniorig #percy jackson #trials of apollo #pjo #greek gods pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #Greek!Jason #Roman!Percy #writer ideas #writerscommunity #zeus pjo #camp jupiter #camp half blood

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myverycoolproject · 2 years ago

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Research: Legend of Zelda Breath of the wild

This is my research into Legend of Zelda Breath of the wild, which won game of the year in 2017. An open world action adventure game set in a vast world overrun by evil robots, monsters and a dark curse.

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I’ve played very little of the game so I don’t really know a lot about the story. All I know is that the land of Hyrule was once banded together by Princess Zelda and her royal knight, Link, to fight against the prophesized calamity. It all went wrong and Link went into a deep slumber for 100 years, to finally awake to a ruin world. Ancient machines now awaken called Guardians and monsters of all kind wrecking havoc on the land in the name of the calamity Gannon. You must rebuild that army and fight again to save the land.

The game is pretty cool with lots of interesting locations to explore, unique enemies to battle and tons of puzzles to solve. Those are the only positives of this game as there is a lot I do not like. Weapons have a durability and are sometimes very hard to come by, making it really annoying when your in the mist of battle. Every enemy can somehow kill you so easily and are hard to kill themselves, making combat a literal nightmare. There is a lot of hidden information like, during a thunderstorm you can’t have any metal on you otherwise you just get struck by lightning. Information like this is crucial and is not clearly told to the player. Finally, it is a chore to get more health and stamina. You have to go to these shrines dotted about the map, complete them and get enough spirit orbs to then go to a statue and increase your health and such.

Love the atmosphere and world but absolutely hate the game mechanics, which makes the early game so hard and less encouraging to play (Harder than any from software game).

I hate this game so much and it is annoying to me, as I really want to enjoy it and progress through but all these game mechanics mark it so much harder to enjoy. The world is vibrant and full of life, encouraging the player to explore every inch to find something cool. It’s atmosphere makes you feel excited, creating a sense of curiosity and enjoyment. But then I run into some dumb enemies or I die in the most unfair way and it just becomes hell.

For my FMP, I want to create the same vibrant atmosphere like Breath of the wild so players can be encouraged to explore. I also like the idea of these ancient machines in a fantasy world as it is similar to what I want to achieve in my game.

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utilitycaster · 4 years ago

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I’m so glad you got Eberron! It’s the first sourcebook I got and I love the range of genre styles it gives you. I’ve run a Murder in the Orient Express Type thing, a cyberpunk type thing, a standard sword and sandals, a noir detective type thing, a western type thing, an Indiana Jones Styles thing, a pirate adventure, all in the same setting. I’m currently running a game for my children (aged 5, 7, and 10) and they’ve turned it into a post apocalyptic thing with my son’s war forged artificer searching the wastelands for a creation forge to give his son (steel defender) a soul.

It definitely seems to be really good for that! I’m actually kind of not interested in the dragonmarks even though I suspect that’s kind a big deal in Eberron because whereas the guilds were the defining feature of Ravnica, this feels like such a minor add-on to a much larger world and like, why would I get caught up in house politics when I could have a locked-train-car mystery or explore the cursed mist?

#i REALLY want to explore the cursed mist #gqsnail

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caroldantops · 3 years ago

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in the dark since the day we met (ii) || a.h.

ship: evil stepmother!agatha harkness x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only; dark fantasy au (stepcest, manipulation, corruption, subtle brainwaashing), smut in future parts

part i ▪ part ii (you’re here!) ▪ part iii ▪ part iv - finale ▪ bonus

When Agatha said she was taking you to her old cottage, you expected it to be on the outskirts of the city, or maybe even a nearby village.

You didn’t expect it to be buried deep in the forest, way off the beaten path. No one would ever accidentally stumble upon it.

Agatha let’s you explore as she unpacks, and you look in fascination at all of the trinkets that stuff her home to the brim.

Crystals, dried herbs, jars and jars of miscellaneous things.

Agatha doesn’t say anything about them, just watching how you curiously investigate everything you find.

The books especially interest you, dusty from Agatha’s absence, but the spines still look well worn.

You open one as Agatha starts to make you dinner, gasping with fascination as you realize that these are filled with potions and spells.

“Something wrong, dear?” Agatha asks, not looking up from the vegetables she’s chopping.

“Do you…practice this?”

“Practice what, darling? Archery? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Witchcraft,” you whisper quietly. You’ve always heard rumors of witches in the kingdom. People heavily believed that the woman who worked at the apothecary, Wanda, was one, but no one could ever prove anything.

Truth be told, the stories of the supposed evil women…fascinated you. You never understood why the kingdoms banished them, only to then be shocked when they had curses placed upon them.

Most people now just regarded them as tall tales. But now as you trace the runes you cannot decipher upon the stained pages, you’re confronted with the fact that you’re much closer to a witch than you ever thought you would be.

“You’re a smart girl, what do you think?” Agatha chuckles, moving toward the table to see which book you’re reading. You realize that there are still chopping noises, and look up to see the knife Agatha was using grasped in a purple mist. You turn back to Agatha who smirks at your curiosity.

“Does father know?”

“Your father has witnessed me use my powers, yes,” Agatha chooses her words carefully. “As you can imagine, though, it’s not common knowledge. His advisors would have never approved of the marriage if they had known.”

“Don’t worry, I would never tell a soul. On one condition.”

“Oh? My girl has conditions now?” Agatha raises an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe you’re ready to rule after all. What are your terms, dearest princess?”

“I want to learn.”

Although the innate magic that is passed down through generations of witches will never be yours, Agatha agrees to teach you the more practical magic over your few weeks together.

You’re certainly not a natural at it, but you pick up a lot of it quickly, especially with Agatha’s encouragement.

The two of you would often sit at the little dining table, Agatha flipping through other things while you study the books carefully.

If you started to look confused or frustrated, she would always lean over and stroke your hair, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead and telling you not to worry, you’re a clever girl, you’ll get it eventually.

The kisses always left behind that ephemeral purple mist, spinning around your head, immediately relaxing you.

Every time you prepare a potion correctly or are able to recite spell meanings back to her, she praises you with a, “Good girl!” bringing you a pleasant warmth that wraps nicely around your body.

Bonding over Agatha taking you under her wing brings the two of you much closer. Though you’re eager to return to your home soon, you find yourself realizing that you’re going to miss being in such closer quarters with Agatha.

Sharing the tiny space, only really meant for one witch, makes your heart race in ways you’re sure it shouldn’t. Especially when there’s only enough room for one bed, and even that isn’t large enough to avoid bumping against Agatha in the night.

Agatha comments that you’re a much nicer bed-mate than your father, and you laugh at the comment as she tucks herself closer to your body, arm hanging loosely around your waist. Lips against your shoulder and purple mist dancing around the room is the last thing you remember before falling asleep, dreaming of what it would be like if you didn’t have to return to your father’s annoying advisors, and to stay like this forever.

(next part)

#agatha harkness x reader #silver writes #darkfics #stepcest cw #castle au #c: agatha #headcanons #this WAS going to get into...the spicier part buuuuut i decided to save that for the next part

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potetosaradas · 2 years ago

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HHHH just exploring Rick's guilty emotional turmoil between Diane and Prime c: Just dumping this here on tumblr

Summary: Rick continues to lie to himself and everyone he loves out of indecision. Rating: T Pairing: Rick x Prime, Rick x Diane

“Rick? Is that you?” Her sweet, honeyed voice floated through the open kitchen door.

The portal which Prime had opened for him disappeared with a small pop as Rick stepped into the garage.

“Y-yeah-- I’m home!” He called out, dusting himself off.

“Sweetie, can you come here? I need to talk to you.”

Rick felt his heart skip a few beats, his stomach twisting nervously. What did Diane want to talk about? Did she know about Prime? Had she seen the hickey that he’d left on his neck? Impossible, Rick made sure he’d rubbed healing ointment on himself before coming home last week, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he? Rick silently cursed, vowing not to give into temptation again. He would, of course, give in as he always would. Prime had a funny way of always getting what he wanted.

Rick cleared his throat as he walked into the warm kitchen, his hands fluttering about himself nervously, unsure with what to do with themselves. He settled for patting down his lab coat.

Diane stood at the stove, her long blonde hair tied up in a ponytail as she stirred something that smelled delicious.

“H-hey, sugar.” Rick came up behind her, placing two hands on her waist and kissed her head. “W-what did you want to talk about?”

Diane took her time while she turned the gas down to low on the stove and set about finding a lid to put over the pot of stew bubbling away. When she turned, Rick could see that she had both of her hands placed on the swell of her stomach protectively, rubbing the bump of their child subconsciously. She leaned in, giving him a kiss that felt way too chaste. Or maybe it felt that way from the guilt that was churning in Rick’s stomach.

“I really missed you today.” Diane said softly, her blue eyes misting over a little as she gazed into his. Sweet, sweet Diane. She was such a simple soul. So gentle and so trusting. Rick felt like a piece of shit as she took his hands in hers, placing it on her stomach. “The baby kicked today for the first time.”

“R-Really?” Rick momentarily forgot about his self-loathing and he smiled. The miracle of life, right before his eyes. “That’s-- that’s amazing, Diane!”

“Isn’t it?” Her eyes continued to search his and Rick dropped his gaze to her stomach, feeling much too like an open book. “Rick, sweetheart. You promised we’d raise Beth together. It makes me sad that you’re missing out on so many of these special moments.”

Rick swallowed, his hands that had been rubbing her belly soothingly came to a stop.

“D-Diane, baby. Y-you know that it’s-- scientific ad-advancement is important to me-- I’m-- I wanna be at home but who--whose going to bring home the bacon to support my lovely girls? T-trust me, I-I-I wish that I could be here with you to see B-Beth grow b-but I-I just want t-to make sure my girls are t-taken care of. S-speaking of, I just deposited some c-cash at the bank so-- so you-- we can start on the baby’s room l-like you wanted.”

Half-truths. Half-lies.

Rick almost believed himself. He wanted to so badly.

“You work so hard.” Diane said with a sad smile on her lips. “I’m looking forward to when we can settle down and be a family for real. Have you given any thought to some of the job listings I cut out for you from the classifieds? I saw an opening for the pharmacy on the corner of Main and 2nd that made me think of you. I put the clippings on your desk in the garage.”

Sweet, sweet oblivious Diane. But Rick couldn’t fully hide his recoil at the thought of working at the local pharmacy. It sounded like a slow, painful death into mundanity. The thought of completing the same repetitive tasks and making small talk with the same people for the next foreseeable forty odd years made Rick want to pull his hair out and scream into a blackhole. How could he tell her that no job on Earth would ever compare to what it was like to learn and contribute on an intergalactic scale? He once thought about taking Diane into space with him but she couldn’t even handle getting on an airplane for fear of heights and the possibility of a fiery crash into death. He couldn’t imagine how she’d react getting into the cruiser with him. But she’d given him her blessing, as long as he came home in one piece, she’d supported his interstellar adventures.

She was still looking at him, waiting for his answer on the pharmacy job.

“I’ll-- I’ll take a look at it later.” Rick leaned down and kissed her cheek gently. “I promise.”

She cupped his cheek and gave him a warm smile.

“Shall we have dinner?”

----

“How’s the portal thing going?” Diane asked as she spooned stew into her mouth.

Rick coughed and swallowed a mouthful of beer.

Truthfully, with Prime’s help, they’d perfected portal technology together months ago. At the current present, they’d been traipsing around the multiverse testing the limitations of the portal gun but mostly they’d been--

“It’s-- it’s coming along. Still-- still having some issues with the-- with the transmitter and the conductor but uh-- it’s getting there.” Rick chewed the inside of his cheek, his heart beating against his ribs painfully with the lie.

“I know you’ll figure it out, honey. You’re the smartest man I know. I believe in you.” Diane propped her head on her hand and smiled at him fondly.

Rick’s cheeks reddened with shame but Diane assumed he was blushing from modesty. He hastily began scraping away the last of his dinner into his mouth and stood up to collect the dinner plates, setting them in the custom dishwasher he’d built for her. The machine was a pretty beast, saving twice as much on water and detergent, while washing and drying crockery faster than any dishwasher out on the current market.

“I have to finish some work in the garage-- why don’t you t-take a warm bath-- relax a bit.” Rick came back to the table, picking up Diane’s hand and kissing her knuckles. She hummed in her throat and when Rick looked up, Diane’s eyes were smoldering slightly. She leaned over and kissed him, slipping him a little bit of tongue and capturing his bottom lip before drawing away.

“Thank you for clearing the table, baby. I think I will go take that bath.” She made to stand up and Rick went to her side, supporting her as she stood up. “Don’t work too late.” She kissed his cheek.

“I won’t.” Rick watched her walk up the stairs slowly, holding onto the banister. When he heard the bathroom door close and the sound of the boiler clunk to life, he turned and headed for the garage.

“Issues with the transmitter and conductor?” Prime snorted as Rick closed the garage door. “Does she even know what those words mean?”

“What are you doing here?” Rick hissed, making sure to lock the door behind him. “You can’t be here! That was the rule, remember.”

Prime was leaning against the workbench busy looking at a sheaf of newspaper clippings in his hand with a look of disdain, ignoring Rick.

“Seriously, Rick? A pharmacy?” He held up the paper waving it around mockingly. “Tut tut. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten into OTC drugs.”

“Shut up.” Rick made to grab the clippings that Diane had thoughtfully cut out for him but Prime held them out of reach.

“Ah ah.” Prime laughed, “Look at you all domesticated. Doing the dishes ‘n shit.”

Rick’s cheeks burned with humiliation. He’d been trying to be a better partner to Diane, but he hated the way Prime made his efforts seem so cheap. Prime smiled with self satisfaction as the dig landed and had its intended effect. He turned back to the papers in his hand, frowning and began ripping them up, letting the pieces flutter to the floor like confetti.

Rick crossed his arms and stared at Prime stonily.

“Why are you here?”

“What? Can’t I see a man about a horndog?” He grinned, arms spread wide in mock innocence.

“You-- cannot-- be-- here.” Rick began shoving Prime towards the garage door, keeping one ear out in case Diane might come down to investigate the voices in the garage. She wouldn’t. The garage and master bathroom were at opposite ends of the house. But you never know…

“Hey!” Prime protested stepping backwards to avoid falling. “Hey-- wait a second.”

The playfulness had gone out of his face, replaced with a dark, ominous look that Rick knew quite well. Prime grabbed his jaw and leaned in, sniffing his face curiously.

“You let her kiss you?” Prime’s features twisted in anger and revulsion. “Now that’s against the rules.”

“I-I never a-agreed to that!” Rick stuttered, pulling back and crossing his arms defensively.

“Ah ah.” Prime reached into his pocket for a remote. “Don’t lie to me, sugar.”

The garage filled with throaty moans and heavy pants that Rick recognized. He lunged for the remote trying to cut off the recording but Prime twisted around evading him, dancing out of his reach and grinning all the while.

“Stop it! T-turn it off!”

“Shh, babe. We’re getting to the good part. Listen.” Prime pressed Rick against the wall, holding the remote high above his head.

“Promise not to let her kiss you?”

“Mmnn.” A hitched gasp. “Prime…”

“Yeah, you like that?”

“Keep-- keep going.”

“Promise?”

“Hhhnn…” The wet sounds of kisses being exchanged burned Rick’s ears as he tried to struggle out of Prime’s ridiculously strong grip.

“I-I-- oh! I p-promise…”

Prime clicked the remote, the expression on his face triumphant.

“You-- you can’t--” Rick struggled to find the words, caught between a lie and a hard place. The same self-loathing from earlier came back in full force and Rick bowed his head. He couldn’t win. He knew that he had to make a decision soon. It wasn’t fair to anybody involved. Yet, no matter which decision he picked, someone was going to end up hurt. Rick pictured the intense hurt in Diane’s eyes at the thought of him leaving his unborn child and fiancee. She might even hate him and Diane didn’t have a hateful bone in her body. Prime would be relentless if he chose to break things off for good. Rick’s nuptial announcement meant nothing to Prime. If anything it made him even more determined to prove to Rick that he was the worthier choice. But where did that leave Rick’s happiness? Settling down with Diane meant giving up interstellar adventures forever and Rick couldn’t truthfully say that he was ready to do that or if he ever would be… but at the same time, to be with Prime was to neglect his duties and responsibilities and Rick wasn’t that kind of man… was he? His father would be ashamed of him for even having to agonize over this decision.

Prime sensed the emotional turmoil in his cosmic twin’s face and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against Rick’s ear.

“I could make it all go away…” He whispered, his hand loosening around Rick’s wrist and slipping into his hand, lacing their fingers together closely.

“H-huh?” Rick felt like the oxygen was punched out of his lungs and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. “What… what do you mean?” He had a feeling he knew where Prime was going with this but he had to check…

“I could make it like she never existed. Poof.” Prime nuzzled his neck with his nose. “All you have to do is ask, bebé.”

“...” Rick hated that he couldn’t bring himself to say no outright. He felt like such a piece of shit. “I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Prime urged. “Don’t tell me you actually want to settle down and change shitty diapers, eat bland-ass oatmeal and talk about paint thinner for the rest of your life. That’s not you. I know it because I’m you and I know for sure, the thought of settling down makes me want to puke my guts out.”

“I’m… I’m not like you.”

“Yes. You. Are.” Prime’s grip almost crushed his fingers. “You might be two shades closer to good than I am but trust me, baby. You and me, we’re like two sides of the same coin. Pot, meet kettle.”

Rick felt his back slide against the wall, his knees giving out. He felt like crying from indecision, frustration and lack of conviction. God, he really was a coward. He brought his hands up to his face, pressing out light and let out a choked cry. There really was no winning here.

Prime knelt beside him, placing one hand on his shoulder consolingly.

“Just say the word…” He said softly. “Say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

“Please,” Rick huffed out, eyes glassy. “Juh-just take me away from here. Just for tonight. Please.”

“Okay, baby.”

Prime reached for his portal gun and dropped them both out of existence.

I'm making a prickcest fic collection on AO3!

#my writing #prickcest #HHHHHHHHH just been non stop typing smh #deletables

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husbandohunter · 3 years ago

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What they love about you (part 2)[Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Zhongli, Childe, Albedo, Kazuha. Part 1 here

Genre: fluff

"Poetry for my hopeless romantic heart 🥺 and Kazuha, he was the perfect candidate for this. I decided to put Zhongli first of course, he deserves it after saving my ass in Baal's fight."

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

Spirit flows through the Immovable rock (Zhongli)

Nations fall, truths be told, iron rusts and earth erode

Through six centuries these were stories he watched unfold.

He sees you and the archon knew that you shall too grow old

But despite it all, he loves you for your existence, as nothing can compare to your intransient soul.

The purpose of contracts were made to ensure there had been a fair trade between two parties. Like merchants striking business deals for a favourable outcome, like mother nature maintaing the balance between life and death, like how you and your beloved said your vows and whispered promises to one another as evening bids farewell by the warm welcome of the moon's gentle glow. Those days were the most treasured that you couldn't help remisicing them-- when Zhongli appeared in your life. Your mortal life. How time can fly so fast.

Perhaps this had been a common notion among human standards. That to be connected, both sides must share the same factors in order to proceed the contract. Clearly your placement proved to be mismatched. Unlike Zhongli there could be a day when your legs gave up and you can no longer walk. He will go on without you, continuing to drift in places where you cannot reach, where time was out of the question, further and further away until the mist begins to seize your field of vision and soon your eyes were too old to see.

The difference in age can truly make someone feel alone and Zhongli knew it well. Thus he smiled softly like he always does and held you close, speaking with so much kindness:

My dearest.

Your soul existed like an evergreen tree blooming through all four seasons, unwithered and everlasting, even against the cold storm of white. And it could be as soft as the sunbeam cascading through the mountain peaks while they dust the land with their ethereal hues and emitting the warmth that breaths absolute serenity. If artifacts were a piece of what someone left behind then maybe everything you made was considered an artifact-- a treasure. A piece of you in those handwritten letters, the beauty in your fingertips after knitting him a scarf which caused scars to mar them, and because of how heavy your spirit weighs through everything you did, it became evident that the one he had fallen for was not your skin nor your body but the person who resides in it.

And sometimes he wonders if he had met you once upon a dream. What else could explain the mysterious feeling that made you seem so familiar, even when he only saw you for the first time? Or perhaps you were an old friend from the long long past, someone he stargazed with upon the infinite mounds of grass and glaze lilies, someone whom he shared the taste of osmanthus wine, someone he came to cherished just like how he cherished his own nation. Regardless, whether you were that someone or not, he wouldn't hesitate to relive those times all over again.

If there was a day when the world around you decided to cave in, where time inevitably caught up and you succumbed to change, he would still be yours. After all, the immovable stone was meant to be the symbol of constancy. He already sworn to you that his devotion and affection will never waver, they were solely held towards your essence for you had touched him through the things he could not touch, and left a mark that would last longer than his ancient self can last. Zhongli may have lived through many lifetimes but meeting you was the beginning of everything. You were a mortal immortalized in the world his heart, etched so deep that it stirs him apart, there was no room for anyone else.

~xx~

Drowning in the ocean flames (Tartaglia)

There was a man who fell deeply in love with war

They raged inside of him like the spontaneous battlefields he came to adore.

Consumed by desire, pain became an addiciton

And he eventually surrenders to the heat of your passion.

While many fear death, Childe learned to dance with it.

He revels in the way his heart pounds endlessly, as if new life had been born from the inside and then bursted like thunder, sending trembling sensations through his veins, bringing him to the peak of euphoria. The feeling was a drug in which Childe hesitates no more when he confronts it, rather he deliberately seeks it. He seeks thrill in the most dangerous situations since they were the moments that made him feel so alive.

Henceforth the Harbinger sought you out. He inches closer and ever so close, those deep cerulean eyes trapped in your hypnotizing ones. Childe loves how you look at him like you were about to devour him, consume him as the flames in hell would, perhaps destroy him completely to the point there was no turning back and yet...he would not mind.

Childe had been so drawn to you like a moth to a light. No. Rather, Adam and the devil, tempting him to sin because the things he would do for you were undeniably impetuous. It was too late. It was too late when you told him you wanted to stay. Too late when you pulled him down, with arms around his neck, stealing away his breath in one swift manner as well as a kiss. Curse you for having so much power over him, from then and there he was no longer the mighty harbinger everyone knew but a man foolish in love. Take him higher. Higher. Take him far. To say you were alluring would be an understatement. The scent of you brings all his senses to disarray and the taste of you-- by the archons-- had never made him feel so starved. All he thought of was mindlessly running his hands over your small back, reveling in the shape of you, exploring every inch and curve in attempt to make you completely his.

This was the reason why he grew accustomed to dancing with death. Because it was you. You were going to be the cause of his downfall and you were the cause of this insanity. Even though you constantly reminded him how risky the situation was due to being a wanted criminal in his homeland's eyes, Childe pays no mind. Didn't he already tell you to trust him? Anyone who threatens you would be an enemy of his, much to their misfortune. Whether it'd be conquering the world and laying it beneath your feet or walking through the depths of the abyss all over again, he'll make sure to have it all and no one can say otherwise.

~xx~

Shelter (Albedo)

Your warmth was his hearth

Like stars falling onto the earth

Gracing the plains in an empereal bliss

As they trembled under the touch of heaven's kiss

Closing his eyes, you are the first person he sees.

The sound of snow chasing the wind fills the silent night once again while it's whispered blows continued to echo just by the cave's entrance. Albedo had planned to take you back to Monstadt that day but Dragonspine was not the place to be merciful with the weather. No one else except the two of you occupied the abandoned space and a singular camp fire to serve as a source of warmth. You place your hand on your lover's forehead, brushing away his ash coloured strands while he seeps into slumber. Albedo sighs contentedly. Despite the world being engulfed in sheer cold, here he felt safe and sound.

Before meeting you Albedo never really had that. People regularly held him on a high regard and had a hard time matching his pace. He was a born genius to the point that he practically stood out like a swan out of the ducklings' crowd as they admired his brilliance. Truly Albedo was a perfect human being. But when turns around to see the rest he noticed how distant everything seemed. He was so focused on his pursuit towards the universal truth that he hadn't given the time to consider; where is he going with this? And what for? Everyone else looked so happy living in their mundane routines and Albedo soon grew curious about such thoughts. Out of all the places in Monstadt, exactly where does he belong?

Opening his eyes, you are the first person he looks for.

"Welcome home, Albedo!"

The answer was obvious. Home was the sound of his name on your lips. When you were side by side with him while he sketched the landscape from the far distance. In places where the lights were on as he entered the room, knowing you were inside. This feeling couldn't be describe with just a word. Home was not a nation nor was it a destination. Home was in your touch where he felt the most protected.

I'm home.

A sky filled with stars and he only saw one; his Starlight. Your warmth held the emotion similar to the kind where there had only been one cande lit amidst an infinite stretch of darkness. But it also brought the joy of flowers blossoming into the vivid future of new spring. There was no place he'd rather be than the shelter of your arms because with you, Albedo believed he truly found where he belonged.

~xx~

Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves (Kazuha)

Silencing the world

My heart begins to find peace

Soothed by your presence

- For my beloved, (Y/n)

I remember how the first petal of spring drifted by as it had flown into the crossroads of our path. Subconciously my entire being began to still. This particular flower... it must have come far and wide for the wind to carry such a pleasant scent. Although I had intended to continue my venture onwards but the air ceased to sound and I knew that this way was true. And so nature beckons me to the shore where the waves lulled back and forth under the moonlight's entrance, only then I began to sharpen my vision to see what was before me. You stood there on a rock with your face looking into the sparkling sky, singing a tune that drew me near. Just the mere sight was enough to stir my heart alone.

My beloved, do you know why I named this poem 'Pirr against the Scarlet Leaves?'

Watching you was like witnessing the ephmereal birth of a flower sprouting amongst the slums of an abandoned nation. A fleeting miracle where snow falls from the summer sky. I am compelled to capture these feelings in this poem yet there are moments where my thoughts scatter as if the autumn wind had whisked them away and out of my grasp until a singular leaf is only what was left. Perhaps it wouldn't be necessary for me to keep a notebook of ways I can describe your presence, instead a few simple sentences would suffice. Nevertheless, I only wish to express my feelings for you.

When you're with me it seems I have nothing to think about. The aura around you can silence the world alone, speaking louder than thunder cries, weighing heavily to those around you in ways it would feel empty if you're not here. Yet I could breath as if alleviated from the burdens of my past. This had me realize that this must have been the will of the wind. You were the greatest gift to have ever bestowed upon me and I confess, sometimes my chest aches because of how much I cherish you, it pierces me like a sharp blade but even if my heart bleeds it will continue to bleed only for your sake.

So wherever you are, wherever you may be, I can feel you in the breeze. Return soon my beloved, I'll be here, waiting.

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writefightandflightclub · 3 years ago

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I really enjoyed your Nathan fluff 🥺 we love this angry peach fuzz king 👑💖 would you ever write him being comforted after having a nightmare? 💕

First of all, LOL @ “angry peach fuzz king” 🤣🤣🤣

Second of all, here you go! 🧡 I will warn you - I think I forgot the fluff a little bit though. It became more hurt / comfort? More angst than expected? It ends nicely though and comfort is given to Nathan - but only after I’ve subjected him to rattling around in his own head and house for a bit.

Through the looking glass (Nathan Bateman x GN!reader)

Summary: Nathan has nightmares after The Incident. After so long alone, he doesn’t realise how badly he needs a little comfort - and maybe he doesn’t believe that he deserves it.

Author’s note: hopefully this isn’t too similar to All Better. I know they both take place post-stabbing, but I tried to give this a different focus. I know I could have made the nightmares based off of anything given the ask, but this timeline / focus seemed most sensible to explore the character.

Warnings: nightmares following traumatic incident (a stabbing); mentions of blood and injury - not graphic. Self-harm (punching the bag until injury); Body horror if you squint (some gruesome descriptions occurring in-dream, but fairly abstract); swearing; implied alcoholism recovery if you squint; mentions of therapy; Nathan mildly injured in fic; reader offering comfort.

Rating: MATURE for themes mentioned above.

GIF: by @santiagogarcia (this whole gifset is magic- check it out + reblog!)

Nathan wakes up breathless, plastered to the covers by a sheen of sweat - and not in a good way. On instinct, or out of habit by now, or maybe somewhere between the two, his palm slides over his body to the site of the wound.

He is so slick that he half-believes he is soaked with dank, deep blood again, until his fingers trace over nothing more than a half-concave, half-ridged scar. The lack of searing pain is the next point of evidence leading him towards an alternative conclusion. He’s not dying (again).

It’s just another gruesome nightmare.

Although… there is nothing “just” about it.

The nightmares are pretty brutal. Brutal enough for him to wake with ragged breaths and a hammering heart, his sheets dampened and coiled up around him. Enough that it takes effort to sift through the layers of terror and distinguish reality.

With what can only be described as a whimper, Nathan swings his legs over the edge of the bed, bringing himself into a seated position and bracing his head in his hands until his racing heart levels.

In his mind, he’s telling himself to be logical about this. That Ava hasn’t truly arrived to finish the job she started; but logic is not the safe haven it used to be.

She could come back.

She’s still out there, somewhere, and Nathan distinctly got the impression, last time, that she was vehemently not a fan of him.

His hand trembling, Nathan reaches for the glass of water by his bedside, glugging it down so eagerly it spills into his bushy beard.

Since the… accident? Malfunction? Functioning just fine, actually? Failed experiment? Greatest achievement known to man? Attempted murder? (Truth be told, Nathan isn’t quite sure what to call it, so he simply calls it The Incident.)

Since The Incident, Ava has begun to regularly visit him in his sleep.

The visitations are not waning with time. In fact, they are happening more often, not less. They are happening more since you moved into the house.

It’s a bad fucking time to have quit drinking.

You’d been sent by the board. Something about Nathan taking “tortured genius” a slice too literally. Something about him being in isolation too long and needing another human around in the compound.

Well, that’s not technically true, is it? The shit all started when he opted to get social, after all.

Fucking Caleb.

Before that, he was doing just fine.

Nathan doesn’t like it at all - having you here. Being watched. Observed. Having someone monitoring his actions. Waiting for him to either fuck up or prove himself.

Ironic really, considering where he kept Ava. The experiments he ran on her.

She’d probably find it poetic, if she could truly understand such a concept.

At the thought of her, Nathan physically shudders, and reaches for an old vest to haphazardly mop the excess sweat from his skin. Then, he balls up a change of clothes and tracks nude to his wet room, feeling relief as the luke warm water sluices over his skin.

He watches himself in the mirror as he stands there naked. It’s not a vanity thing - at least not any longer. These days, he examines the way his form has changed since it happened. He lost some of his muscle and bulk during recovery, whilst unable to exercise, his arms slightly smaller and his abs softer. His stomach a little more rounded.

There’s also the puckered scar, of course - that permanent reminder of where he was skewered through the chest like a piece of kebab meat.

His gaze travels up over his body, until his eyes settle on his still haunted face. He doesn’t have his glasses on, and somewhere between the blurred vision, misted mirror, clouding steam and sluicing water, his reflected face distorts. It transforms - for the briefest of moments - into her.

Still amped with adrenalin from his harsh awakening, this briefest flash sends a surge of panic zipping through Nathan’s chest, his heartbeat racing so hard he can feel the pounding of blood in his ears.

Fuck, he curses, reaching his arms out to brace himself against the shower wall above him, his body trembling and his head dipping down between the cradle of his broad shoulders as his legs threaten to buckle.

He turns the water cold, until it is practically glacial and thundering on to the back of his neck, subduing this spiking heat.

She really did a fucking number on me, didn’t she?

It’s true though.

Ava is haunting him. When he sleeps - and at other times too.

Nathan didn’t know robots could do that. Didn’t know they could spawn ghosts.

Nathan doesn’t believe in ghosts, of course… but he does believe in trauma and its effect on the brain. He at least concedes that it is natural to continue to feel afraid; but this?

Being dogged by the spectre of her taps into Nathan’s deepest insecurities.

After all, there is nothing a genius fears more than doubting his own mind.

Nothing a God fears more than his own mortality.

And the man? Turns out, there is nothing he fears more now, than dying alone.

With a ragged breath, Nathan towels off and pulls on his grey sweatpants, tugging on his black zip-up hoody over his bare chest. And then, keen not to return to his damp, tangled sheets, he tracks towards the kitchen - mainly for want of any more favourable option.

Of course, he had returned to the compound after The Incident. Something about that many fibre optic cables being a bitch to lay down. Sunk cost fallacy and all that - too much already invested.

But it possibly wasn’t the best choice for his recovery.

Nathan has certainly gotten more used to walking down that hallway since he returned from the hospital, and yet he still finds himself holding his breath until he is free of it. Still finds his pace is just a little faster as he passes through. His gaze deliberately averted from that spot.

Once, you’d found him lying in it.

Lying in that exact spot, his body arranged like a crime scene photo, his eyes closed.

Hey, it’s hardly his least healthy coping mechanism, is it?

What in the fuck are you doing, Nathan?

Re-enacting my death, obviously.

Uh-Kay…. A beat. A devious smile. Shall I get some popcorn?

Absurd as it was, he had laughed. Laughed for the first time since it happened, and, with an extended hand, you had helped him up off the floor.

Still, now that he’s alone, he does not dwell in the corridor, colder and darker as it is without your light in it, and he tries not to think about your face or hers as he pads to the kitchen.

When he arrives though, he bypasses it entirely - heading out on to the decking, the crisp night air soothing his hot skin.

He wants to be outside.

There are too many ghosts in his house now.

He has tried to shake it. Tried to desensitise himself to Ava’s face. Spent longer than strictly necessary poring over footage of her.

He built her. Shouldn’t that take the fear out of things? Not to mention the fact Ava’s face was simply a composite of some manipulable nerd’s wank bank browsing history.

Fucking Caleb.

Still, once Nathan had looked her in the eyes and seen a rage that was all too human, things seemed a hell of a lot different.

Nathan crosses to the punchbag on the deck -lit by creeping dawn- on instinct, or out of habit, or maybe some combination of the two, his unease riling him enough to sock some punches at its midsection. Right at the equivalent site of his corporeal puncture.

He punches so hard that the skin on his knuckle splits, but Nathan doesn’t stop. He throws punch after punch until his hands are scathed and bloodied, and a trail of spit hanging from the corner of his mouth. Until he hugs the bag - the closest thing he has to a warm body to hold - and slides down it, coming limply to his knees, wiping his face on his sleeve.

He stays there, dead eyed and still for some time, the pain in his hands raw and singing. Unpleasant, but better. Better than what he was feeling, and worse all at once.

He considers his tired, cumbersome body, and contemplates remaking the world one more time. Uploading his mind into a machine or some shit, so that he doesn’t have to contend with the fragility and failings of his own existence.

He stays there, until some motion in the interior of the compound causes the light and shadows to dance differently over him, and he looks up to see your figure there, cast in a soft halo of yellowed light.

He tips his head up slightly, opening his mouth as though he might cry out to you for help, but no sound comes out - only a thin, dry croak.

So, instead, Nathan watches you for a moment, moving seamlessly around his kitchen as though it is your own. Maybe it is - more yours than his now.

Observing you like this, through the tall, cinematic windows, it is as though he peers in on another world entirely. Something less resembling a nightmare.

Lighter than that. Something more like a good dream, albeit a good dream that Nathan cannot be part of. One he can only ever watch, from the outside looking in, always fated as he is to be on the other side of the glass.

Truth be told, you haunt him too. You represent everything he could have and yet doesn’t deserve.

You appear in his nightmares and his dreams, in various terrifying and beautiful incarnations. Many variations of which his therapist would have a field day with, he’s sure - or, she would, if he’d ever fucking call her.

When you first arrived here, he was plagued by grotesque visions of you. Grotesque visions of the skin being peeled back from your body. Sometimes, circuitry beneath, and other times, muscle and bone. Sometimes, Ava’s face was buried beneath the chilling slip of your fleshy mask.

Sometimes it is a better dream. Sometimes you save him. Sometimes he saves you.

Sometimes it is a good dream. Ava isn’t there at all. But the good dreams never seem to last for long.

Sometimes you kill him, and sometimes...

The glass door slides open.

“Reenacting your own death again, are you?” you tease, though not unkindly, interrupting the spiral of Nathan’s incessant thoughts.

A lump forming instantly in his throat, Nathan swallows thickly, and looks up at you helplessly with a thin, joyless smile. He snorts as though it’s funny, but it really isn’t. “Over and fucking over.”

You nod once, and, without hesitation, you extend your hand towards him. Your gaze cuts through him as you search his face and he feels suddenly see-through, as if he’s about to be hit with some Shyamalan-esque twist. Was he the ghost all along? Did he die here after all?

If so, is this purgatory because Ava is here too, or heaven, because you are?

Christ. So fucking schmaltzy, Bateman.

After hesitating, Nathan takes your hand and you yank him to his feet, drawing him inside, through the looking glass.

The room seems warm on the other side. It feels… safe.

“What happened?” you ask, as you look down at your joined hands, your thumb painting a smear of red across his split knuckles.

You mean now. What happened now, but Nathan’s mind harks back further than that. In his mind, everything is connected. Every thing threaded to another. This one smear of blood to that weeping flower of red.

The thought -the thoughts, all of them- halt him in place, his feet firmly planting on the ground. Nathan’s hand clenches tightly around yours as though it is a lifeline, as he is cast adrift on this familiar crimson tide, his face growing increasingly angular and stern.

“She...” He swallows, unable to complete that precise thought, his eyes dropping down to his feet.

You turn your body towards Nathan as he croaks, still not letting go.

Your eyes flitting around his face, attempting to search his eyes, you tentatively step closer, sliding your palms slowly over his tense shoulders, feeling them rise with an uneven, stuttered breath as you do so.

He’s so tired. He’s so very, very tired.

And it happens all at once on the exhale.

Suddenly, your arms are tugging him closer, and his face is contorting as a violent smattering of tears beads in his long lashes. You are encasing his body in your embrace and rubbing circles into his back as his buzzed head sags all too willingly toward the junction of your shoulder, your fingers splaying along the smooth flesh at the nape of his neck and pads dancing over the gentle prickle of his hair. You are shushing and soothing and reassuring and squeezing and smoothing and cradling and Nathan can feel it. Can feel his heart race in his chest and…

Finally.

Finally, his heart is not pounding because he is reliving his death.

It is pounding because he feels alive again.

When was the last time he cried, even? The last time someone really hugged him? He doesn’t remember the last time. The serendipitous combination of Nathan willing to be vulnerable, and another being willing to hold space for his pain is an all too rare thing.

There’s a reason -or several - he’s so emotionally constipated, after all.

Fuck. I’m taking a huge emotional shit right now.

Nathan remains in the welcome circumference of your arms longer than is strictly necessary - until the tear trails over the bridge of his nose begin to feel cloying. Until his breaths steady, and until his thoughts and ego creep back in. Until he notices the way his hands are clasped at your waist like claws, fingers sinking into your softness, and he thinks to release you.

Then, he leans away, a weight on his brow making his expression stern.

He waits for you to judge him, another swallow trailing thickly down his throat.

However, your eyes are kind and level, dancing with soft concern. Not with judgement or satisfaction or pity, or with anything he fears.

It is refreshing not to feel so afraid.

Finally.

“She…” Nathan begins again, finally finding courage. All at once his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “She fucking stabbed me.”

You take his words in. You listen.

His “reveal” is simple. Plain and factual. A little indignant. Kinda salty. It’s not overly emotional, or articulate.

But it is enough.

Your eyes narrow, and you nod slowly, trying to understand the true meaning beneath his words.

You even reach up to cup Nathan’s face, his springy beard a cushion beneath your gentle palm as you hold him. “Yeah, genius,” you tease, with a tentative, lopsided smile, dropping your arm all too suddenly, perhaps as you catch yourself. “I got that from context.”

In response, Nathan chucks air from between his teeth, bringing his hand up to comb through his beard - perhaps to obscure his involuntary smile, or perhaps chasing your tender touch, the impression of it left warm on his cheek.

As he brings his hand up, your brows draw together, and you hook his bloodied paw delicately in yours, examining the wound, and leading him gingerly across to the couch as though his whole being might be hurting along with it.

It is.

You order him to stay put while you fetch the first aid kit, and then, in stages, Nathan watches you with fascination as you painstakingly clean and tend to his wounds, without ever being asked to.

He watches you carefully swipe the angry red away from his skin, and, to his overactive mind, it’s all connected. This red is one and the same with the flower of blooming red from The Incident.

Ava hurt him then, and she is hurting him now too.

And you…

“Going to tell the board about this?” Nathan asks, his voice weak and scuffed.

You search his eyes, holding your words back for a moment before answering. Then, you launch them on a big breath. “Fuck the board, Nathan. I told those assholes to stick it.”

Nathan blinks in confusion, shaking his head, his hand flourishing emphatically through the air. “Then… what the fuck are you still doing in my house?”

“Well. I’m… here for you,” you admit, sucking in air through your teeth, your voice shrinking. “If you want that.”

Well, that’s news to him.

Welcome news, perhaps?

You’re not watching him at all, are you? Not observing. Not asking him to evidence his humanity. Not waiting to see whether he fucks up or proves himself.

Instead, you’re seeing him. You’re seeing him and you’re not running.

Nathan had begun to think that maybe he was the nightmare. He’d begun to think he might always be haunted.

Always alone. That he might die that way; again.

And now, here you are.

Nathan thinks about that. He could so easily revert to his old ways, in this moment. Of pride and ego and stubborn independence.

But, perhaps those assholes from the board got a few things right - he’ll admit.

Maybe he had been in isolation too long. Maybe he didn’t need to take “tortured genius” quite so literally.

And so, Nathan almost protests. Almost rejects your presence and your comfort and pushes you away. But the truth is, he’s just so… tired. He’s had so many nightmares, and this time, he’d like to be on the other side of the glass. He’d like to step into that dream.

Nathan takes a deep breath, and releases on the exhale. Releases more than air.

He slowly, ever so slowly, shifts towards you on the couch, angling his body until he can safely dip his head towards your lap, his nose pointed in towards your abdomen and his knees curling around you.

“Th.. this okay?” he asks weakly.

You throw your splayed hands up into the air in surprise as the weight of Nathan settles there, but as he curls his arms around your middle and shuffles closer, you ease into it. You snake your fingers in intricate caresses over his head and neck and shoulders.

“Yeah, Nathan. This is okay,” you soothe gently, voice taut with emotion.

You comfort him.

And finally, Nathan does not need to peel your skin back to know what’s underneath.

He knows you’re not a robot, and that, as your kind touch finds him corporeal, that he is not a ghost.

He closes his eyes. And this time, when he next wakes, he knows that whether the dream is bad or better or good, it doesn’t matter. Because you will be there with him.

He wants you with him.

It’s not at all natural to him, to have you around. For the longest time, he didn’t like it. It didn’t come instinctually, and he has formed no familiar habits.

It isn’t easy - he doesn’t make it easy.

But he wants it to be.

And, in your arms, he can finally dream that it will all work out. What’s more; he can dream he deserves it, too.

#Nathan Bateman #Nathan Bateman x reader #Oscar Isaac #ex machina

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palidoozy-art · 4 years ago

Photo

Curse of Strahd dump #01. This is apparently the most images I can fit in one post, I guess! A lot of these were portraits used for tokens. I’ve gone and labeled some of them, because some of them include NPCs in the base game, and it’s always fun to see people’s taken on those! The height charts were made because my party kept stuffing NPCs into a bag of holding.

My party played the game in a very... anime/Neverwinter Nights kind of way, where they tried to gather as many friendly major NPCs as they could into a tiny army to fight Strahd. The first height chart shown is pretty much every major NPC they managed to befriend and convince to join them. And yes, they would sometimes put every single one of them in the same room at the same time. Playing like 16 people at once is hard.

Other fun Barovia facts beneath the read more (warning: may contain spoilers)

- I allowed my players to recruit the Abbot after he wound up being pretty popular with them. His story diverged a lot from RAW, probably because I changed the mongrelfolk from “ha ha look at these inbred crazy people” to “scared adventurers/Barovians sell their body parts to the Abbot in an attempt to fix diseases/bring their loved ones back to life, go mad in the process, and the Abbot tries to care for them after.”

- Rahadin was another character that wound up being popular with my players, enough that they captured him and want to work to redeem him. They took him outside the mists with them. With Strahd's death and nothing else to live for, the party convinced him to work for Ireena. Also he's 7 feet tall because Kelogul's player told me he always imagined him "being taller than Kelogul," who is a 6'6" half orc. so now there is a monstrous blue fuckin' elf who really likes cooking walking around with them.

- Speaking of, the dusk elves in general were based more off the shadar-kai than wood elves in RAW because, c'mon, why wouldn't they be? Also I changed their coloration to more dusk-themed. It made them stand out a bit more and feel unique in the sea of D&D elves.

- The party will be continuing on adventures outside of the mists with their gaggle of NPCs. They really want to hit level 20. There's still a few plot hooks they can explore -- most notably, Escher and Patrina both lived through the campaign.

- The players treated the game like a Bioware game and all wound up romancing an NPC. Ellerian wound up with the former mongrelfolk, Marzena; Kelogul wound up with the moon-themed elf, Ivalice; Miharu wound up with Gertruda; and Arialoth wound up with... Rictavio/Rudolph van Richten. Nobody understands what she sees in him, but the player seems happy so I ain't here to judge. Three of the players all wanted to romance Ireena, apparently, but none of them wanted to compete with each other and they wound up finding other options.

- Ireena's ending was changed as well, because I thought it was fucked up that she gets literally spirited away by Sergei's ghost and doesn't have much of her own agency as an individual. She has also made it out of Barovia, and will get to live a full, uncursed life.

- Kelogul got his arm ripped off by Strahd in the final battle. After the final battle, the group went on a 'Barovian Bar Crawl' (note: there's like, two bars in the entirety of Barovia) and Kelogul challenged Ireena to a drinking contest. Rahadin took her place after she started getting fucked up from it, and between the two of them they downed like, 10 bottles of moonshine. Rahadin won because Kelogul got so drunk literally the next drink would have killed him. Anyway the next day -- with a massive hangover -- Kelogul got his leg ripped off by a giant snake beast hiding in Lake Zarovich, and this basically summarizes the feel of the entire campaign.

- The party desperately wanted to be friends with Neferon, the arcanaloth up in Amber Temple, but pissed him off by releasing a bunch of dark powers. Exethanter also wound up being extremely popular.

#palidoozy arts #curse of strahd #cos #d&d #strahd von zarovich #rahadin #ireena kolyana #kasimir #patrina velikovna #the abbot #damn i drew a lot more in my 7 month hiatus than i thought

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black-metal-bard · 3 years ago

Text

Really really tempted to make a Choose Your Own Adventure Style Strahd Dating Sim in Twine 👀

I used to use the Twine Software a LOT when I was a teenager, and I don’t know if it still exists(I HOPE), but if it’s still available I might just have to get back into it.

Mostly because I’ve been daydreaming about Strahd nonstop again and I’ve started thinking about all the different ways the narrative of my daydream COULD go and I just think it would be a really fun way to explore a Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Premise under the cut for those interested; not sure if it will ever actually be a THING, but I’m heavily considering it.

OKAY SO

The Premise is that the MC(Reader) is from our world, modern times.

Strahd, in an extremely fashionable fit of Brooding Edgelord Rage and Anguish, goes into the mountains during a particularly harsh storm to scream at what passes for gods about his loneliness; how he wishes just one solitary person could love him.

Well, Strahd being a powerful magic user(with inherent magic he is unaware of from Baba Lysaga’s blood fed to him as child), accidentally SUMMONS THE MC THROUGH THE SHADOWS AND THE MIST with his desperate plea(though he is unaware that HE did it, MC does not appear beside him, only somewhere in Barovia).

Strahd begins to DREAM in his sleep, of the MC; she’s always just out of reach, as though separated from him by another world. He becomes OBSESSED, considering this is certainly one of the more interesting things that’s happened to him as of late in regards to FIXATING ON A POTENTIAL LOVER WHO IS NOT TATYANA. Strahd believes whole heartedly that MC will come to break the cycle(disappointingly for Strahd, MC’s mere presence does NOT break the cycle-choice dependent events will though). Rahadin very much wants it to be true, because he is very sick of helplessly watching Strahd destroy himself over Tatyana’s reincarnations again and again and again.

Strahd has art made in MC’s likeness, which Rahadin ensures is spread across Barovia with the ORDER that if this woman is found, The Count is to be notified IMMEDIATELY, and she is not under any circumstances to be harmed.

Strahd begins to lose hope; each day MC is not yet in Barovia Strahd worries that it will be CENTURIES before he lays eyes on her; his dreams visions from a far future perhaps...or worse, The Dark Powers themselves prevent her entry. Unlike his Obsession with Tatyana, his fixation on MC is no true Curse, so he does his best to put her image out of his mind, lest he give The Dark Powers the satisfaction of watching him wallow even further into the mires of false hope.

MC however, was summoned to Barovia, alone and frightened in this new and terrifying world. The first person she meets is a seemingly kind Blacksmith, who offers her shelter. The Blacksmith of course recognizes her from the posters, but is taken with her beauty and does not want to turn her over to Strahd(which he knows could very well be a fate worse than death for her). He lies to her, telling her that she should stay hidden “Because the locals don’t take kindly to outsiders.” MC lives with him as his “apprentice” for over a month, helping around the forge and cooking to earn her place(not cooking in a sexist way, but in an “I love to cook, I used to sell baked goods in my small town, and this started out as my daydream” way). One day however, the Blacksmith is too busy with the forge for an important order to answer the door, and MC decides that after living here so long there would be no harm in answering the door.

Strahd is on the other side, staring down at her as though he’d seen a ghost. There she is, the face from his dreams; the one meant to save him...and she’s here. The poor Blacksmith just about shits himself when he sees Strahd standing with MC; because he knows he fucked up BAD.

For his part, Strahd keeps himself very composed in front of MC, but fixes the Blacksmith with a firm glare that tells him his fate is all but sealed.

That’s where MC really begins to make choices that matter both short and long term; navigating life in Castle Ravenloft, as the Honored Guest of Count Strahd Von Zarovich.

If anyone’s interested I would love to infodump about potential plans I have for this.

#mypost #strahd von zarovich #I’m simping so hard it’s not even funny #Yeah that Blacksmith isn’t gonna have a good time

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blzzrdstryr · 4 years ago

Text

Misery

Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader

Wordcount: 6748

CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence

Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.

Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.

You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.

You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.

You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.

He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?

“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”

“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”

You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.

“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.

When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.

“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.

***

Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.

“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.

“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.

“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.

“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.

“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.

It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.

“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.

“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.

“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.

“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.

***

Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.

“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.

There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.

He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.

He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.

He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.

Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.

It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?

He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.

Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.

Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.

***

Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.

I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.

Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.

Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.

You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.

You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.

All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.

You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.

No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.

“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.

You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.

You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.

You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.

He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.

You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.

Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.

With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.

***

You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.

There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.

“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.

“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.

He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.

“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.

“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.

“How so?”

“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.

“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.

“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.

He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.

You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.

“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.

“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”

“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.

“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.

“How did..”

“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”

“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.

“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.

“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”

Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.

***

You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.

He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.

You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.

You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.

He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.

“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.

"No one will find you".

"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.

"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.

"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.

He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.

It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.

It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.

Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.

Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.

***

Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.

He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.

It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.

Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.

Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.

Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.

You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.

“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”

“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.

Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.

In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.

He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.

Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.

Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.

***

You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.

A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.

You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.

You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.

I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.

A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can’t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.

You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.

You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.

Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.

***

Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.

Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.

His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.

This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.

“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.

It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.

He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.

He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.

Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.

He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.

You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.

***

“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.

“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.

“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”

You obey, equally parts scared and excited.

Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.

Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.

#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #Yandere genshin #Yandere diluc #yandere x reader #yandere #I am lowkey dissapointed in myself #Both reader and diluc are bad people #My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing

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