#i don't know if this warrants a tw? but @ anyone do let me know if i should have put some kind of warning

[propheticbride]

Lamb to Slaughter Ⅳ

𐙚 Aegon and Aemond's personal war over you escalates as the truth of Aegon's crowning becomes true to you.

𐙚 Aegon x Reader/Aemond x Reader (tw: incest mention)

(AN- remember when I said lamb is gonna start getting her own personality... ☝🏻)

“I feel sad about Jaehaerys.” Helaena mumbles. You hand her back the small boy’s toy. A wooden dragon styled after Dreamfyre, Helaena’s personal mount. “Mm, but I ought not to, I think. People die all the time, especially babes.”

You nod, “They’re so little, so they’re taken so easily.”

She glances at you as you respond. “Sadness is a condition of motherhood, or so mother thinks. When you were born, she cried so much holding you.” Helaena speaks in a pained tone. “She could not care for us much when you were brought into the world. She loved you so.”

“There’s naught to be gained from it.” you shake your head.

Helaena does a rare thing, she reaches for you, and holds eye contact. “That horrid procession where the smallfolk all stared at me. I warrant they thought I had no more right to grief than they do. Surely they lose their babes more than highborn ladies.”

“No.” you shake your head and take a deep breath, holding her hands back. “The Stranger comes for us all…queen and commoner alike. You have as much claim to grief as anyone.”

“And you?” she asks.

“I loved Jaehaerys, but my concern has been for you. It broke my heart to hear what they put you through.” you insist. “Helaena, I…”

“I forgive you.” she breaks the physical contact and walks away, quickly glancing back at you.

“What?”

“I said that I forgive you.” she nods, a faint smile on her face.

“For what?”

“Sleeping with Aegon.” she spits out. She looks dazed for a brief moment, almost like she cannot fathom the words she had just spoken.

“Helaena…I haven't-”

“Mother told me. Weeks ago. After Jaehaerys was murdered…I heard Aegon had taken someone new to bed, but I did not imagine it would be you.” Helaena saw things, you knew it, but even she couldn't have seen this coming.

“I don't know what to say.” you admit.

“Do you feel sorry?” she asks.

“No.” you shake your head. “Helaena, his heir was murdered, and unless you are able to provide another, there is not much to secure your place beside him.”

The words simply bleed out, you’re not sure if you mean them or not. So much is happening so quickly and you cannot deny it. You have become Aegon’s lover, and he wasn't shy about finishing inside you. So where did Helaena fit into all of this?

“That was mean.” she grimaces.

“I am sorry, but I only speak the truth.”

✮⋆˙

“Drinks for all! At the pleasure of the crown!”

The entire brothel roared for Aegon, his little men following close behind.

“Woo! At the pleasure of the crown!” someone shouted.

“Sit down. Sit yourself down.” Aegon demands Ser Martyn’s squire. “Drink the wine, boy. Drink it now!”

“So what did your little queen say when you told her where you were going tonight?” Martyn sips his alcohol.

“She does not know?” Leon Estermont asks after watching Aegon’s smile spread into a wide grin.

“Why would I tell her where I am going…she does not tell me when she fucks my brother.” Aegon laughs.

“She's sharing both of your beds?” Martyn questions, a little confused on the way the Targaryens work.

“Oh I let her have her fun, she can not be glued to my cock forever can she. If she wishes to use that hound as a toy, why should I complain?” Aegon tries to convince himself that jealousy isn't there. That Aemond doesn't stare him down in the counsels or the halls when they pass. Oh well.

“Did I, did I tell you I came here as a lad?” Aegon asks the squire again. “It’s, mm, a little tame, but a good a place as any to get it wet. I know just the tutor for you, my boy.”

“Is it your toy?” Leon jokes.

The joke stabs at Aegon, but he simply laughs it off. “The blood of the dragon is not for…lesser men.”

His knights burst out into laughter as Aegon grabs the young squire and begins dragging him around room to room.

“She’s worth three times the price.” Aegon states cheerfully. “Her name is, uh, Sylvi. Or Selyse or, I don’t know, something like that.”

Aegon violently pulls apart two curtains, the white hair of the man looks familiar and follows Sylvi immediately lying up.

“Your grace.” she says.

Aemond shoots up and turns around, color leaving his face.

“Aemond, the fierce!” Aegon giggles out, he is the only one. “You have come so far, and, and yet you still lie with your very first.”

Aemond lays his arms on his knees, keeping his gaze strictly to the bed. He's embarrassed. More embarrassed then when he found out you had taken to Aegon’s bed following your first night together.

“Did you fuck her like a hound?” Aegon asks, following barking like a dog at his brother.

Both the knights and Sylvi were quiet, only glaring at Aegon and softly glancing at Aemond’s huddled form.

“Does she know you spend your time here? Oh do you think she'd fuck you again if she knew you spent time with your whore?”

“Again?” Aemond questions.

“Oh save it brother, I am well aware you have touched our little lamb, but that does not matter I do not care.” Aegon assures him. “But do you think she would share your bed if she knew where you spent your time? Do you think she would have even entered mine, if you had just stayed in hers?”

“This isn't about-”

“Oh yes it is you stupid dog.” Aegon laughs. “Why is it that you give me looks, and that you cannot make eye contact with me. You do not attend dinners anymore, nor does the lamb see you often. Of course it is about her. Would you even be with this whore if it weren't for your feelings of our lamb?”

“Our lamb?” Aemond is angry now.

“Yes, our lamb.” Aegon laughs. “You see, I do not exaggerate. Such is the madam’s prowess, that even now my brother will not sample another. Even my little sister is left bedded alone. Hard luck for your squire, though! As you can see, she…she’s now very much occupied.”

Aemond stands, his body in full view. “Your squire is welcome to her.”

Aegon glances up at him.

“One whore is as good as another.” Aemond steps off the bed and disappears into the brothel.

✮⋆˙

“Fuck.” Alicent breathes. “Fuck!”

“Mother?” you enter her chambers.

She looks disheveled, as she's tearing apart her private room.

“Rhaenyra’s dragons are restless. They smell battle.” Alicent cries. “Perhaps we will all die and none of this will matter anyways.”

“Mother?”

“Rhaenyra. Aegon. Fuck.” she immediately plants herself in the cushioned seat, her head in her hands.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Where is Aegon?” Alicent looks up.

“Out, he said he was partying with his squires.” you reply.

“And where is this partying taking place?”

“I do not know.” you admit. “Aemond is gone as well.”

“Helaena?”

“Asleep. You told her that Aegon has taken me to bed. Am I not your baby no longer?” you sound hurt.

“My love-”

You sheethe away from her touch. A pout splays across her face, she looks hurt that for the first time, you have denied her affection.

“You said you loved me but you immediately ran to my sister to tell her of my doings! You knew that and in confidence perhaps you have betrayed me.” you shake your head. Who could you trust?

“You do not-”

“I will tell Aegon.” you say.

“You cannot.” your mother shakes her head, protesting.

“Yes I can. I have his ear. And I have his bed. Those are two positions of power you are not granted.” you remind her. “As Queen you were powerful perhaps. But now you are the King’s mother. There is not much power there I’m afraid.”

“I saw Rhaenyra.” she admits.

You look at her, as if she was a stranger. “You’ve done what?”

“My love-”

“Do you betray him at the very last? Aegon is your son, meeting with the enemy could be considered-”

“Treason, I am aware. She was dressed as a septa, she snuck into the sept-”

“And you did not scream for the guards? Are you without a voice?” you demand. “Are you?”

Tears swell in Alicent’s eyes. “I have made a grave mistake.”

“What mistake do you speak of?”

“Your father did not change his mind.” Alicent spoke codly. “He did not want Aegon as king-”

“Be quiet.” you say.

“But-”

“Stop!” you shake your head. “You have committed treason at the highest of offenses. Meeting with the enemy, and now you speak that Aegon is not the true king?”

“The Prince That Was Promised.” Alicent whispered.

“What?”

“He…spoke of the Song of Ice and Fire. This prophecy with Aegon the Conqueror.” Alicent nods to you, watching you take in all of the information.

“There’s been a mistake?” you ask.

“There’s been no mistake.” Alicent speaks coldly. “A terrible war is looming, and even victory may be so bloody as to be counted a loss. Cole is on the march, and Aemond…he is a monster and even you know this. You will continue to occupy Aegon’s bed, make him happy and perhaps maybe you will keep his ear. It will be needed in this brutal war to come.” Alicent kisses your forehead. “I wish for us to stay on the same side, our desires and beliefs as one. It was wrong for me to go to Helaena, you are my baby still. I hope you can forgive my transgressions, and keep this between us. If your brother found out.-”

“You mean when my brother finds out?” you pull from her hold.

[cloudseeker14]

Wistful Dreams (Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Summary : A good friendship is something that is rare for even the strongest sorcerer in the world to come across. Surely, he'd do anything to keep it, right? Even if his heart was screaming otherwise.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

TW: Angst with sad ending

Gojo Satoru had never doubted himself of being strong. He could bring down entire hordes of curses with just a snap of his fingers, a mere mention of his name would have the enemies of the Jujitsu world trembling with terror.

Yet, when he saw you, with your wild laughter and the way it rang in his ears like the most melodious tune, he felt weakened.

"Toru, you have no idea how bad that date was!" You chuckle, plopping onto the couch "I don't know what Shoko was thinking setting me up with him, the poor dude was straight up trying to worship the very ground I walk on to get in my pants."

Toru, a nickname that only you had shared for him. The sound of it from your lips, how it seemed to bewitch every single sense of his, Satoru wanted to bottle it up just to keep hearing it again and again.

"Oh yeah?" Satoru grabbed a bowl of popcorn and say next to you, grinning "Well, do you know what can be better than some date you can have with any of those dudes?"

"Let me guess, that popcorn you generously have in your hands right now?" You asked, lips curling into smile.

A part of Satoru wanted to scream that it was him. He could be better than any of those idiots you went out to see. Afterall, how could he not be when he knew every single aspect of you as well as the back of his hand?

Would anyone else know all your favourite shows and books? Would they know exactly how you like your tea, the type of bands you enjoy or how to hug you tight while you weep into their shoulder?

"Yeah and this new thriller movie that's been released." Satoru' eyes gleamed with mischeif but the pang in his chest still remained.

You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead dramatically. "Toru, you know I hate horror!"

The blue eyed man chuckled at your plight. "You can keep whining all you want, but if I say we are watching The Shining, then that's the only damn thing that's going to be playing on the TV tonight."

You rolled your eyes with mock offense and playfully jabbed him in the shoulder, an ordinary routine for you which still succeeded in elciting a deep stirring of longing in Satoru heart.

How would it feel to hold you close, whisper all the frantic thoughts that have been running through his head for years in your ear?

Would your lips taste as sweet as how he imagined them in his dreams?

"You do know that you might be the Jujitsu world's biggest asshole, right?" You leaned over and grabbed some popcorn from Satoru as he grabbed the TV remote, shaking it annoyingly in front of your face.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Satoru smiled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that went unnoticed to your gaze.

It was for the best that you didn't notice because Satoru knew, deep down in the icy depths of his pride and arrogance that was bellowing at him to just tell you, that you deserved a man better than him.

You deserved someone who could give all their time to you. Someone who would usher you away from all the dangers of the world of curses, not someone like him whose very companionship would mean facing countless trials with curses determined to find the weakness of the greatest Jujitsu sorcerer.

By just being a sorcerer yourself, you came home beaten up every weekend from all the curses out for your blood. Being his would be equivalent to signing a death warrant, you'd never get a moment of peace for your whole life.

Satoru couldn't do that to you.

The movie went on for a few hours and with every scream that escaped your lips from all the blood and gore, each time your arm unknowingly brushed against his own, Satoru had to mentally restrain himself from just kissing you right then and there.

Once the movie was over, Satoru sat with you and listened to your remarks, resting his head on his hand.

"And that scene where blood just spurted from the sink was crazy!" You exclaimed animatedly "I'll admit it, this movie was better than what I expected!"

"Now this is why you should have some trust in me when it comes to movies." Satoru said smugly, adoration filling his soul itself as he drunk in your glee.

He couldn't allow himself to be too close to you, not if it meant endangering your life and health. Just being your friend and a part of your life would be enough if it meant just getting to be around you. Even if every thought in his body protested at the sight of you being set up on dates, though his own mind betrayed himself every night with indulgent fantasies of you, he'd make himself be satisfied with just being your friend.

Gojo Satoru could never have a weakness, especially not one as disadvantageous as a lover.

--

Satoru walked through the campus of Jujtisu High, aimlessly going through his phone after returning from one of his missions. It'd been quite simple and hadn't even succeeding in piquing the tiniest bit of his interest.

"God know why they needed me for something so simple." Gojo muttered to himself and put his phone in the pocket of his pants "I swaer to god, it's almost as if they're trying to keep me-"

All his words fell short, lodging in his throat as he saw a sight that he'd been dreading forever. There you were, stunning as always with your face perfectly framed by the setting sun as you kissed some man deeply, your fingers tangled in the locks of his black hair as you pressed your body against his chest.

Gojo Satoru could only continue watching in horror as the man placed his hands firmly on your hips with such familiarity and pulled you closer. At that moment, Satoru didn't even knew who the hell that man was but he could clearly witness that you both fit against each other like missing pieces of a puzzle.

He saw you pull away, your face flushed and lips pink from the ministrations of your lover as you giggled, not even noticing Satoru's presence in your gaze.

Gojo Satoru, for the first time in his life, walked away. He turned on his heel and continued walking in the opposite direction as the bottom of his lips trembled.

What else should he have expected? Of course you'd have someone in your life, someone who'd make you happy in all the ways he couldn't.

He knew that this had been inevitable, but goddamnit the tears that were unashamedly welling up in his eyes paid no heed to that fact.

--

There are certain moments in life where one must control the whirlwind of regrets in their heart.

Gojo Satoru could recall experiencing this when you introduced your boyfriend to him, all smiles and laughter. Your lover had firmly shook Satoru's hand, speaking bashfully of how amazing you are.

When you and your boyfriend looked at each other, as much as Satoru cursed the sight before him in his head, he couldn't deny the attraction between the two of you.

One you obviously didn't share for him.

But the day his very strength, his arrogance and pride as a sorcerer died within him and burnt to ashes on a pyre was when he saw you walk down the aisle.

You'd given him the invitation, practically brimming with joy and blissfully unaware of the tumultuous mirage of emotions as his heart and mind engaged in a tense conflict with each other.

Gojo Satoru felt breathless as you walked down the aisle, absolutely radiant in your wedding dress.

Satoru knew you were beautiful, but at that moment with the way your hair was let down, how the dress clutched your curves and the wind which gently made your veil flutter in the wind, he couldn't deny that you were the most stunning woman that could ever grace his eyes.

As you continued walking ahead, a small part of Satoru wanted you to look at him for just an instant. To give him a sign, anything that you suddenly didn't want this. That he could whisk you away even if he could never fully give himself to you.

But your gaze was far ahead, eyes only for the man soon to be your husband and in all your awe, you didn't even spare a single second for Gojo Satoru.

Satoru's hands trembled as he forced himself to stare at the ground, unable to look any longer. If gods did exist in this world of vicious curses, Satoru was helplessly praying to ones he'd never believed in just for all this to turn out to be a figment of his imagination.

"Y/N, do you take this man as your husband and swear to stay by his side during sickness and health, during all the moments of happiness and sadness that life will have to offer the both of you?"

Satoru forced himself to look up and he could swear that he could feel his heart shatter like glass thrown forcefully against a pavement once he saw you nod your head, tears of joy running down your face. "Yes, of course I do." You clasped your hands, eyes brimming with excitement of the prospects that awaited you in the future.

Unbeknownst to you, there was someone else who was crying in the altar with you. It wasn't your husband, who instead chose to gently caress your face and wipe away your tears with his rough, calloused hand. It wasnt your mother or any of your family members, who were all rather elated at witnessing you during this moment.

It was Gojo Satoru, tears streaming down his face as he bit down the inside of his cheek to choke down the sobs that threatened to spill from his lips. Thankfully, no one noticed him. How could they, when you could simply steal everyone's breath away with a simple flick of your hand?

"Does anyone have any objections?" The priest asked and all the guests smiled cheekily, this was just a mere formality that no one ever adhered to.

But for Satoru, those words seemed to awaken a sense of courage he didn't even know existed to him. Proclamations of love and longing, of how he knew that he could make you happy made its way to the tip of his tongue, only to crumble away as he saw your expression of delight as you gazed into the eyes of the man you loved.

Gojo Satoru was a man of many spades, he was nonchalant, full of himself and always determined to get what he wants.

But he couldn't bring himself to be the villain of your love story, not if it meant seeing that smile disappear from your face on your special day.

"Then I pronounce you husband and wife!" The priest proclaimed, the chance for Satoru to open the dam of emotions that had been welling up within him for years vanishing with just those simple words.

Satoru's eyes never left your face as your husband wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. Even then, Satoru couldnt let go of the countless 'what ifs' in his head.

What if he'd been selfish and allowed himself to love you? Would he have been the one to be by your side as your husband instead? Would he have been given the honor of waking up to you each morning and falling asleep with you in his arms? Would the two of you have grown old together after having stepped away from the chaos of the Jujitsu world?

A part of him died inside as your gently cupped your husband's face and pressed your lips against his, hues of pink subtly dusting over your cheeks.

You and your husband pulled apart and you squealed as you were lifted into the sky by his strong arms.

At that instant, a cruel realisation dawned upon Satoru.

This was his price for being the strongest, as much as he devoted himself to the entire Jujtisu world, the few people who knew him beyond just the facade of the cocky sorcerer would keep being snatched away from him by fate.

A lonely life was all that awaited him and the words that he desperately wanted to scream would remain locked within the closure of his heart.

I love you.

Those words would never be heard, instead they would only be replaying in his head for nights to come as he'd toss and turn at the thought of you enjoying a sweet life with another man, even though all he wanted was to be the one for you.

There'd be nights where he'd curse the entirely of Jujitsu, detesting his destiny that had been set in stone from the instant he'd been born.

But all of that meant nothing when he saw how you smiled, exactly like the way which had enchanted him when the two of you had first met as you walked up to him, arm in arm with your husband.

And in that fleeting moment, Gojo Satoru smiled back wryly, the gesture a broken attempt at trying to brush aside the throbbing of his aching heart.

"Go on lovebirds, dont keep all the guests waiting!" Satoru chuckled weakly, motioning for you to go ahead, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding as you grinned and rushed over to your mother.

As he continued to watch you for the rest of the night, the alcohol his sole companion for the event, Satoru supposed the old stories he had read as a kid were right.

The human heart was a fickle thing, always longing for the things it simply cannot have the most.

And you, you would be his one weakness.

The only thing he'd still keep running back to, a curse and blessing all in one.

[eternitariant]

Lesson Nineteen: Woodshop

cw: (& tw:) blood, knives, we're marking in a whole new way *cut ting* & there's also some spice in here

When you reemerged, you were holding the box that you kept your knives in and Patrick looked at you quizzically,

"What's the idea?" he asked

"I'll prove it to you." you said, opening the box and laying your collection out on the blankets,

"Pick one." you encouraged,

"Not until you tell me what i'm picking it for..." his apprehension was fairly warranted,

"You carve your initials onto all your stuff..." you lead and he raised an eyebrow at you,

"Do it to me."

His jaw went slack in shock as he processed what you were asking him to do,

"You're asking me to cut you, angel. Do you understand that?"

Rolling your eyes, you sat down next to him and offered a soft smile,

"Yes i understand. Think of it as you adding me to your collection officially."

He fell silent for a little while as he contemplated and then came back with a counteroffer,

"I do you... and then you do me."

Your eyes softened,

"You don't think you'll get bored of me?"

His expression dropped as he reached for your wrists and held you gently,

"Not a chance. Ever." he expressed, locking eyes with you, "You don't think i'd just stalk anyone, do you?"

"No," you breathily laughed, "I just want you to be sure, that's all."

"You just brought out a box of knives and asked me to carve into you baby, i've never been more sure about anyone or anything in my whole life."

He leaned over you to rifle through your knives and choose the one that he wanted to use before settling on one that had an intricate design on the handles with vines and flowers-

"Fit for an angel." he announced, making you smile bashfully, "You have to tell me if it hurts too bad, you swear?"

"Mhm," you nodded, "i swear."

"Good girl." he praised, "Where do you want me?"

"Hmm," you thought for a second before leaning slightly over on your other side and lifting the shirt you were wearing to reveal your hip, "here." you tapped twice on the area just above your underwear line,

"Okay." he bent down and kissed the spot before he brought the blade to your skin and very carefully etched the letters 'P H'.

He dabbed the area gently with a tissue and then focused intently on your face. You were staring at his initials with a stifled grin, like if you let yourself smile properly you'd never be able to stop,

"I love it." you whispered and he let go of the breath he was holding,

"I love you." he chipped and you looked up at him,

"I love you. Are you sure you want mine though? You don't have-"

"I want it baby, give it to me." he practically begged and you smirked,

"Oh, i hope you say that again." you brushed, taking your personal favourite knife to brand him with. There was a spiderweb carved into the handles and a tiny spider in the blade -

"Where?" you asked and he leaned back lifting his shirt,

"Where else, lover girl? Right here." he said, placing his hand over his heart,

"You're sure?" you clarified and he nodded,

"Certain. Make me yours Y/n."

Slowly and carefully you drew your initials, making sure it looked pretty. When you were done, you kissed right above the letters and pressed a tissue just like he'd done for you.

"This is really real, huh." he beamed,

"Really real, baby." you agreed and he grabbed your face to kiss you.

"I fucking love you." he growled between kisses as he pushed forward and laid you down, the knives beneath you making pretty metallic sounds.

Your legs naturally wrapped around his waist as the kisses grew hungrier and the need between you became feral. You starting rutting against each other and his hand smoothed over your new brand, making you hiss at the sensation,

"So much for getting dressed." you wisped and he smiled,

"Yeah, i don't know what the fuck i was thinking. Take this shit off." he yanked at your shirt and the second it was no longer obstructing you, his teeth started nipping at your chest between drawn out kisses.

Your fingers tangled into his hair and you tugged at it, earning a throaty moan as he continued to work his mouth all over your body.

Something about what you had just done to each other was driving all your senses into hyperspace, you were frantically needy-

"Patrick," you breathed and his eyes flicked up to meet yours from where he was leaving a pretty purple mark on your other hip, "p-please... i-"

"You... what? Hmm? Tell me angel..." he drawled, peppering kisses back up your side and over your ribs,

"i n-need you." you whined and he came back up to hover above you,

"Where do you need me baby?" he was drawing this all out on purpose and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it,

"I need you," you emphasised by grazing your palm over the front of his jeans, "here" you demanded, moving his hand to touch your underwear.

He didn't need any further instruction and his own desire had grown too intense for him to keep teasing you so he gave you what you wanted.

Everything that you wanted

[hopetune]

#HOPETUNE: an affiliated robin rp blog, harmonizing with mik (20, they/them, gmt +8). singing about hope and fledgling wings. rules and portrayal notes may be found under the cut!

RULES

ON AFFILIATION: this blog is affiliated with gnostic hymns. as such, personal blogs and rp blogs not affiliated with gh will be softblocked or blocked.

ON OOC: i make a lot of jokes ooc, as well as post shitposts (tagged appropriately on this blog) please don't take them seriously!!! none of what i say ooc is canon here in gh. i try to be very clear about what i include in-character. that said, i understand that the line can get quite blurry at times, so don't be afraid to ask me to clarify stuff or to tell me to stop doing a bit. i'll also be doing the same.

ON SHIPPING: i have my personal preferences but i'm generally open to shipping with those i'm familiar with ooc + dynamics with good chemistry. especially with regards to romance, i would prefer to plot everything out just so we're clear on everything. do also note that i headcanon robin as a lesbian, so i won't do anything romantic with male-identifying muses, but anyone is free to feel what they feel about robin regardless of gender, she's just not going to reciprocate everyone's feelings. 

ON HEADCANONS: i have certain headcanons that do indirectly affect muses around robin. specifically, i headcanon her resonance to evoke a certain sensation within those affected. i'll go into further detaili won't force you to accept this if it's something you don't want to write, but i hope it's something that can be considered when it comes up in our writing. though i would like to reiterate that it's ultimately your choice whether or not to include it in your replies/interactions!!!

ON FORMATTING: i use small text with icons in my writing. if you have any issues with readability or would like me to change my format, please let me know! as for my personal preference: i would prefer it if my partners could use small text in their replies so i can read it more easily <3

ON CONTACT: as tumblr's IMs have been acting up recently (for me at least) i prefer discord dms. my username is emblian! i am part of gh's discord server so you may also ping me there.

ON REPLIES: my schedule has gotten considerably less free since i'm starting my semester so expect me to take anywhere from a week to a month to reply. i'll do my best to avoid having my partners wait for too long, of course, but i just want to be clear just in case you think i might be ghosting you or forgetting our thread. though that's not out of the question—i'm also a pretty forgetful person, so feel free to ping me if you feel that may be the case!

ON TRIGGER WARNINGS: i will use general trigger warnings for things such as gore, extreme violence, suicide, and other topics that i deem sensitive enough to warrant it. i will be using "tw // (word)" as a tag. if you have any triggers you'd like me to tag, please feel free to let me know through a dm. i also tag spoilers under "hsr spoilers"

ON HYV GAMES: i am not as familiar with genshin or honkai impact 3rd as i am with honkai star rail. i will defer to my partners for information but please be patient with me if i have lapses in the lore! i would also appreciate it if you could gently correct me on whatever i may get wrong. 

PORTRAYAL NOTES (SPOILER FREE)

robin is renown throughout the cosmos, so it's perfectly fine to assume any hsr muse knows her/knows of her regardless of whether or not they've interacted with her in canon.

robin will often disguise herself when appearing in public, especially in places where she knows she has many fans, so it depends on the situation whether or not your muse will recognize her. if your muse is a stranger to her, she will likely not blow her own cover.

related to the point above: she will probably not disguise herself when going to places in teyvat or remote planets like jarilo-iv, as no one would probably recognize her there.

as of right now, robin is on a journey for self-discovery. she has no tours, no concerts, no schedules, no nothing. encounters with her won't be within the context of her as a performer, but rather, her as a person. people who don't already know her as a songstress will likely see her as someone very ordinary.

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

Short Prompt # 4

TW: Smoking, destruction mention

Supervillain takes in a long drag from their cigarette, letting their shoulders fall as they exhale. They subconsciously kick the air with their feet, perched on the rooftop of a dilapidated house in a lifeless part of town, one even a ghost wasn't expected to grace.

The place may not have been ideal, certainly far from warranting the title of 'pretty', but it was quiet. And for someone who was infamous for their penchant for destruction, the master criminal rather enjoyed peace.

But alas, nothing good seems to last long in this world, and their little break swiftly gets interrupted for the first time in forever. Except the stranger doesn't seem to be looking to intrude, if the careful, measured-out lightness of their steps was any indication.

Hero stood in front of them, arms folded across their chest. The sun seems to illuminate the outline of their features as though they were drawn in golden ink, eyes sparkling. It made them look ever the definition of angelic.

The irony of it was beautifully cruel, in an almost bittersweet way, the kind only the twisted likes of Supervillain could enjoy the taste of.

"Why would the agency send you and not Superhero to placate me? I'm assuming that's what you're here to do." The supervillain said that last part completely devoid of the uncertainty that came with their expression of choice. They flick the ash off their cigarette, fixing their gaze on their vis-á-vis.

The crime-fighter shifts their weight on one foot, seeming to shake a little under the villain's steel-hard stare, somewhat embarrassed by how easily they could read them, like a book thrown open. "Because they said I'm the only one you'd listen to," they shrug.

Supervillain laughs, a musically chilling sound. They blow a teasing ringlet of smoke in Hero's direction, watching in delight as their nemesis scrunches up their face, wafting the smoke away.

"Is lung cancer the next thing on your bucket list?" they question, trying to ease the tension. More for themselves than anyone else.

"Ha," they huff out, more amused than annoyed. They rather enjoy watching the tight line of crime-stopper's shoulders fade as they notice that revelation. Oh, how easily they could affect their emotions, how well they could play those strings. "Well, for once in life, the agency actually did something right."

"So you'd consider listening?" Hero's eyes light up only very slightly, but Supervillain never missed anything. They settle down next to them, trying to swallow down their uneasiness, but counting a little on the criminal's better nature. Brave, little thing.

"I won't make any promises. You know I don't like that kind of commitment. But if you go about things in my idea of the right way. . . then, I could be persuaded." They stand up, only to crush their cigarette underneath their boot, resuming their sitting position once more.

They were going to play this game, the question was whether it was by Hero's rules or their own? Or both mixed together to reach an equilibrium no one would've fathomed was possible?

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

[downfallofi]

TW: long vent post, pass on by, don't read etc etc, I just need to get this out somewhere because it's still messing me up; I had one of the most gut punch conversations with my father I've maybe had ever in the two years since his brush with the ICU and like. This one hit me with a tons-of-bricks feels that nearly had me in tears, but also I can't get out of my mind. Routine duty call, right? My father, still an asshole, has had health issues and nearly died, so I just check on him to see how he's doing, and like has happened before, he took the awkward lull in conversation that happens to try and bridge some long dormant, decades old sounds, and he got weirdly emotional and said he missed me a lot and thinks of me every day (heard that one before) And then this man pulled a god damn MCU Yondu as he said, I'm sorry I didn't do right by you for all those years. You're a good boy, no, a good MAN. I never should have sent you away when you were a kid, I regret it every day.

And son when I tell you that was a punch to the guts because my crippling fears of abandonment, my sense that I am broken, that I was torn away from any sense of safety or knowing what home was started when I was 17 years old, and how can I describe to anyone just what this old man just SAYING THESE WORDS does. I don't even understand it myself, except to say it was both a painful knife wound and the softest hug I have ever been given in my life. And to have HIM saying it, I. Dude. I didn't have the words then, and I don't now. I had to continue the conversation like it wasn't anything and then tell the old man I love him and then I got my coffee and bagel and went in the Cafe Aroma toddler play area to like, weep. I don't sincerely think he even knew how hard that hit me. I don't know if he knows how impacting his words are, or even if he feels them as deeply as I do. I don't know.

He DID say this as a pivot to talk about my brother Michael, and that is the second part of this conversation that is sticking in my mind currently; It also has me thinking that my dad's confession that he done me wrong was secondary. Maybe, even, a salving of his ego, because he put it on me that now that Michael might be going to jail again that I'm his only son who isn't a disappointment.

Shoe is on the other foot now, since he once said I'm the family disappointment. Really feels like he just passes that one around.

And I am fairly disquieted and frightened and worried about Michael. I always, always am.

Dad just went off spilling tea, telling me Michael is borrowing money again, he's buying suspicious quantities of lighter fluid (again?), he's driving without a license with warrants to spend a night in jail again, and I get to be the only one who can't fully cut Michael out when he does this shit, or turn it off like my sister does with family shit like with Dad too. I get to worry from afar, ask myself how can I stay letting Michael's recidivism break my damn heart.

I don't have answers, it was a heavy seven minute phone conversation that was mostly about work, until it wasn't. I'm still reeling. Good feelings, bad feelings, worried feelings, all of it.

I'm not used to my father telling me positive reinforcement.

I'm not used to being told that I'm a good boy, no, a good MAN. Especially not when the same man has said I'm the disappointment.

It's all bouncing around in my head and it's hard to calm it down. Sometimes, I wish I hadn't ever kept contact with the kinder, gentler Warner, ya know, not even after his ICU stay. But also it's ... Very mixed bag, some good to take out of that, some very, very bad. The good even is hard to take fully accepting, even, but damn... It's....... Something to be told by one of the world's biggest assholes that he knows somewhere along the line he's done wrong. And maybe I do take it accepting? Maybe he saw death straight in the face in the ICU and he's slowing down and getting old and now he's full of regrets?

Told you man, it's all daddy issues all the way down, I have nowhere else to write this

[dewdrip]

#DEWDRIP: an affiliated bailu rp blog, healing with mik (20, they/them, gmt +8). living a life in shallow waters, yearning to breach the surface. rules and portrayal notes may be found under the cut!

RULES

ON AFFILIATION: this blog is affiliated with gnostic hymns. as such, personal blogs and rp blogs not affiliated with gh will be softblocked or blocked.

ON OOC: i make a lot of jokes ooc, as well as post shitposts (tagged appropriately on this blog) please don't take them seriously!!! none of what i say ooc is canon here in gh. i try to be very clear about what i include in-character. that said, i understand that the line can get quite blurry at times, so don't be afraid to ask me to clarify stuff or to tell me to stop doing a bit. i'll also be doing the same.

ON SHIPPING: as of the moment, i am not interested in any romantic ships for bailu.

ON JOKES: please for the love of god do not call her a dragon loli or make any suggestive jokes about her. i trust that the people of this community aren't into that sort of humor but i still want to make it clear regardless.

ON FORMATTING: i use small text with icons in my writing. if you have any issues with readability or would like me to change my format, please let me know! as for my personal preference: i would prefer it if my partners could use small text in their replies so i can read it more easily <3

ON CONTACT: as tumblr’s IMs have been acting up recently (for me at least) i prefer discord dms. my username is emblian! i am part of gh’s discord server so you may also ping me there.

ON REPLIES: my schedule has gotten considerably less free since i’m starting my semester so expect me to take anywhere from a week to a month to reply. i’ll do my best to avoid having my partners wait for too long, of course, but i just want to be clear just in case you think i might be ghosting you or forgetting our thread. though that’s not out of the question—i’m also a pretty forgetful person, so feel free to ping me if you feel that may be the case!

ON TRIGGER WARNINGS: i will use general trigger warnings for things such as gore, extreme violence, suicide, and other topics that i deem sensitive enough to warrant it. i will be using “tw // (word)” as a tag. if you have any triggers you’d like me to tag, please feel free to let me know through a dm. i also tag spoilers under “hsr spoilers”

ON HYV GAMES: i am not as familiar with genshin or honkai impact 3rd as i am with honkai star rail. i will defer to my partners for information but please be patient with me if i have lapses in the lore! i would also appreciate it if you could gently correct me on whatever i may get wrong. 

PORTRAYAL NOTES (SPOILER FREE)

updated as of the current patch of hsr, that being 2.5. everything is also based on the english localization of hsr. i am not familiar with any mistranslations, but i know there must be some—let me know if there's something important i've missed!

i portray bailu as being the human equivalent of 12 years old despite her many years of age. may be subject to change if she gets an older form (sp bailu, anyone?)

bailu is a character whose freedom is very restrained, so for threads that take place outside of the luofu, always assume that she's escaped somehow and is evading capture. she's very eager to see the world—if there's a will, there's a way!

bailu's healing is based off of the systems of traditional chinese medicine, which i will reference often. do note that i'm still doing my research about it and while i have been exposed to the culture and to tcm itself, i still come from a different cultural context and may understand things wrong. please do let me know if this is the case, i would hate to misrepresent.

[ofbelobog]

#OFBELOBOG: an affiliated bronya rp blog. marching on with mik (20, they/them/ gmt +8). standing for the preservation of life and duty. rules and portrayal notes may be found under the cut!

RULES

ON SHIPPING: currently i am shipping with maggie's seele! so i am not open to any other romantic dynamic.

ON FORMATTING: i use small text with icons in my writing. if you have any issues with readability or would like me to change my format, please let me know! as for my personal preference: i would prefer it if my partners could use small text in their replies so i can read it more easily <3

ON OOC CONTACT: as tumblr's IMs have been acting up recently (for me at least) i prefer discord dms. my username is emblian! i am part of gh's discord server so you may also ping me there. i will let you all know now that, while i have grown more comfortable speaking with others ooc, i am still prone to bouts of anxiety and may pull back at any given moment. please don't take this personally! i may just need some space and time to get myself together.

ON REPLIES: my schedule has gotten considerably less free since i'm starting my semester so expect me to take anywhere from a week to a month to reply. i'll do my best to avoid having my partners wait for too long, of course, but i just want to be clear just in case you think i might be ghosting you or forgetting our thread. though that's not out of the question—i'm also a pretty forgetful person, so feel free to ping me if you feel that may be the case!

ON TRIGGER WARNINGS: i will use general trigger warnings for things such as gore, extreme violence, suicide, and other topics that i deem sensitive enough to warrant it. i will be using "tw // (word)" as a tag. if you have any triggers you'd like me to tag, please feel free to let me know through a dm. i also tag spoilers under "hsr spoilers"

ON HYV GAMES: i am not as familiar with genshin or honkai impact 3rd as i am with honkai star rail. i will defer to my partners for information but please be patient with me if i have lapses in the lore! i would also appreciate it if you could gently correct me on whatever i may get wrong. 

PORTRAYAL NOTES (SPOILER FREE)

i do not base any of my interpretation of bronya (hsr) on bronya (hi3). this includes any of my perception of people such as cocolia and seele.

bronya's current canon point happens after the trailblaze continuance mission "future market." any major changes in her continuity that may come with future updates will be posted about here.

jarilo-vi is still a heavily isolated planet, despite the current revitalization efforts going on. bronya may not know much about other planets, and i don't expect those who don't deal directly with jarilo-vi to know about them either.

related to the point above: i don't think bronya has much reason to go outside belobog right now or even do anything unrelated to her job as supreme guardian. assume that all interactions are happening in belobog under some official capacity, unless otherwise stated.

if she is visiting another planet/place, you can assume the following:

bronya is there to try and establish a connection between jarilo-vi and the rest of the galaxy.

she will be rather official and standing on business most of the time; she will introduce herself as belobog's supreme guardian

bronya is unaware of the existence of other bronya's and will be confused if you mistake her for anyone else. this will, of course, change with what information she learns from other muses.

[shiveringfrogspawn]

What's up sluts (affectionate)

Welcome to my blog! I’m Bee, a Pākehā living in Aotearoa that uses she/they pronouns. Anyone being creepy or discriminatory will be blocked without hesitation, don't be that person.

Other socials: Letterboxd, Spotify, Pinterest, Serializd

CW: this blog contains swearing and spoilers for all fandoms listed below. I can't think of anything else on here that warrants a TW, but if you see something, please let me know and I'll add it - that's valid!

I'm part of many, many fandoms, so if you're interested in them, take a look at things I've reblogged. Wanna talk about any of them? DM me (or whatever the tumblr equivalent is called). I'd love to chat (as you can tell by this disgustingly long intro post). I'll add a list under the cut and leave it open-ended so I can add more, because I am ravenously consuming more media - books, movies, TV shows, bands - and becoming more powerful.

MOVIES

Labyrinth, The Princess Bride, Indiana Jones, Back to the Future, Pride and Prejudice, Dead Poets Society, The Truman Show, Knives Out, Stardust, Night at the Museum, Terminator, Jurassic Park, Labyrinth, Hunt for the Wilderpeople, The Rocky Horror Picture Show...

TV SHOWS

Doctor Who, Good Omens, Sherlock, Our Flag Means Death, Shadow and Bone, Taskmaster, 8 Out of 10 Cats, Countdown, The Mighty Boosh, QI, Big Fat Quiz of the Year, The Big Flower Fight, What We Do in the Shadows, Would I Lie To You…

BOOKS

Shadow and Bone trilogy, Six of Crows duology, King of Scars duology, Good Omens: the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, The Secret History, Harry Potter (side note: this blog is a safe space for LGBTQ+ people! I do not agree with JKR’s transphobic views, 99% of my fandom activity involves reading gay porn about her characters - yes, I am a whore for the marauders era), The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson/the Riordanverse, Heartstopper, The Picture of Dorian Gray, We Hunt the Flame, One Last Stop, Red, White, and Royal Blue, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, Howl’s Moving Castle, The Traitor and the Thief duology, Kaitangata Twitch, the Heidi series, Little Women series, most things by Roald Dahl, the Robert Langdon series, All the Light We Cannot See...

ARTISTS

Queen, the Beatles, David Bowie, Aerosmith, The Beautiful South, Green Day, AC/DC, Florence + the Machine, Bon Jovi, ABBA, the Bee Gees, Elton John, Billy Joel, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Elvis Presley, Joan Jett + the Blackhearts, Chappell Roan…

[raincamp]

10 24 2023

tw vivid descriptions of abandonment

i keep getting new memories. bad memories.

ive been visiting home a lot recently. had my mother take care of my cat while i was gone. as a result I've had to spend more nights there than i would prefer.

it took me a while to accept that i had abandonment trauma. first it was the BPD symptoms, the pervasive fear of abandonment. the trauma responses. i thought maybe i was just sensitive. sure sometimes my mom would leave but it wasnt that bad.

now i have memories. triggered by being in my childhood bedroom. even with the furniture moved around, even with it empty and desolate.

my parents recently cut down the trees that used to shield my window. the ones that had only grown tall enough to block my view by the time i had turned 13.

the way the light shines through that window, unobstructed. it brought something back.

i feel the fear and helplessness and desperation for love that i felt as a child. and i remembered. i remembered begging my mother not to leave me, chasing her car, clinging to the door handles as she drove away, scraping my bare feet and knees on the asphalt and grasping so tight my knuckles turned white, crushing my fingers in the window as it was rolled up to block out my screaming and crying and begging.

i was a child.

i remember feeling like it was my fault, wondering what I could've done to change her mind, trying to be as small and insignificant and non-intrusive whenever i saw her so maybe she wouldnt leave again. i taught myself how to keep to myself so that I wouldn't set her off again. i taught myself how to earn love from her and learned what would constitute it being taken away. i never felt like i got enough. i spent so many nights feeling alone.

then i remembered. all the times i was forgotten about. all the times i had been left places with no way to get home. all the times i had waited until the sun went down, until the establishments had locked up for the night, for my parents to finally pick me up. the times i hid inside while they were closing so at least i didnt have to shiver in the cold. no phone to reach anyone, i remember begging strangers to let me call someone. i remember taking rides from people i didnt know, asking the first person i saw to walk me home. i was too young to know it wasn't safe. i just knew i wasnt supposed to be alone.

i was a child.

the appearance of memories has given me fear, but it has also given me validation. validation that what im experiencing is real. validation that my anger is warranted. validation that i feel like my parents don't care about me. validation that i do have trauma.

[appl3l0v3r4lif3]

Tw vent

Am I really sick enough???? I think I am but idrk, I feel like absolute shit nearly all the time and I hate my parents but I love them and I feel so bad when I get mad at them because they haven't done a single thing to warrant my rage I just haven't got anywhere else to put it.

This also ties into my rage to my friends, I hate it, there's one girl I don't hate, but I think I just might be in love with her, I'm not sure, but I get angry at mt friends for them being happy and themselves,i don't let them know but I hate them, I hate them so much and I hope they leave me so I can be stress free

I also hate all my classes, and I'll give a list why

English: the topics are boring and I cannot understand how they'll benefit me

Maths: my teachers misogynistic and I can't wrap my head around my fucking times tables let along π or some shit

Music: the teachers annoying and I can't get the hang of any instrument no matter how hard I try

Tech: my teachers a pedophile (sent nudes to minors) and it's boring and reminds me of how shit I am at art

Art: I hate it because I used to love art,I was so happy and joyful and I wanted to be an artist but now I realised I'm horrible at it and quit so all it does is remind me how the only thing I even like I can't do

Spanish: I can't understand it and my teacher screams and screams and screams and is really scary

Pe: I hate the changing rooms because it's the reason I have to overheat twice a week so no one sees my sh scars and also I just hate sports and I'm pretty sure I annoy the few people that hang out with me

Computing: I'm surrounded by people who hate me while my teacher nags is about not copy and pasting information and i hate it

Science: the teacher is annoying and I can't understand it because it's math based

Re: I'm not religious and if anyone I'm not friends with in my school finds out I'll be more ostricised than I already am bc I go to a mainly Muslim catholic school plus it's boring and useless

Pshe: it's just uncomfortable because it's always either talking about our futures (my plan is to kms) our skills (I have none) or sex

Drama: it's just not fun to have to group up with random people and awkwardly perform Infront of your whole class

History: my teacher is so so annoying and I hate the amount of writing I have to do for this and it's just boring and I hate it and it makes me think about how fucked up society has been since the dawn of time and how it's destined to forever be hateful and disgusting because it's in our fucking nature as humans to be the worst most monstrous things possible it links into my hate for re because re also makes me think too hard and realise how we know pretty much nothing in relation to the universe, but what do I know, Im just a suicidal 13 year old girl

[karoochui]

Hello there Mika!! Your art is huge inspiration to me and I love it so much words can't explain it, I absolutely love your sketches, doodles, full art pieces, whatever you make I absolutely adore. Sorry for blabbing but just wanted to ask about things you really hate about sskk, like what the fandom does with the ship that you dislike?😭 Take care of yourself drink some water!💜💫

TW for sa mention!! Sorry but i ramble a bit here so im gonna add a cut!! (Plus the tw) Take care of yourself too and ill get some water right now actually😋

Okay firstly!! Hello!! Thank you so much!! And no worries no need to apologize its very sweet of you im so glad you like my art i really do appreciate it!! Thank you!

And its hard for me to say exactly? Im still very much into bsd but ive been distant with the fandom for a little while now BUT!! From what i remember what i usually didnt like was when people would make them so..two dimensional kinda?? BSD has pretty morally complicated characters and it was really weird when people would flatten sskk's personalities down to just some ship dynamic bc they are SOOO much more complicated than that. And thats just as INDIVIDUALS!! Even when considering them together theres a lot to think about when it comes down to their functionality, whether or not its viewed as romantic or platonic. And of course youre always gonna have those people who just water down any mlm ship into some weird dynamic that doesn't even fit the character's relationship which is just obviously Not Great.

And then as far as the characters individually i feel like a lot of people baby atsushi its really odd. Like that man has gone through some shit he is GROWNNN. I think its because hes the "softer" one out if the two or whatever. Which yeah he's nicer, its made clear akutagawa isn't a great person but atsushi isnt the exact opposite of akutagawa or the "softer" one. They're narrative foils of eachother, they mirror many of the other's character traits and atsushi has also done some Not Super Stellar shit. Do i think most of it was within reason? A little, considering what hes been through and exactly what he did. I do think he is the better person between the both of them - and i feel like thats also proven - but he is by NO means "innocent" or anything weird like that.

Then for akutagawa its really only that weird sa headcannon that originated from something he said in Beast (i can't remember exactly what, but i remember thinking it was NOT enough to warrant a hc like that. I remember that much). And as someone who's been through that a couple times i think its one thing if its some way to help someone cope or feel more seen (more specifically it isnt my business to cast judgement -unless it hurts them or someone else- and im no therapist), but i have seen people apply the headcannon simply because they say its "implied" or it "makes sense". Which, once again, as someone who's gone through that i think thats just. Weird. I dont like it. I personally try to stay away from any talk about it at all from anyone.

I also don't like when people make it seems like Atsushi has to save Akutagawa or something like hes some knight in shining moral armor. Its much more complicated than that and I could go further into this but it would be a whole rant about their characters and dynamic and itd go on FOREVER. So im just gonna say that akutagawa is also a grown man and knows well enough what hes doing with himself, even if its unhealthy (not that Atsushi is any better but lets be real no one is this show really is) and he wouldn't listen to atsushi if he didnt want to anyway. This part is really just personal opinion though, and i don't cast hard judgement on people who see them that way. Im not the type to care enough.

So yeah i guess it wasn't really hard to say at all LMFAO but otherwise i dont think ive had any other issues abt it?? I dont pay much attention to things i don't like anyway so im not easily bothered lol

But i hope this answered your question!! Plz lmk if i missed or misinterpreted something!! It was nice to talk about BSD again anyway though, ive missed it.

[katierosefun]

71, 81, and 98 for the late night train asks :)

thank you for the asks!! // from these asks

71. Tell me something you don't like telling others.

oh. something i don't like telling others . . . hm.

maybe that i think of all the men (like, actual men, not just celebrities or fictional men) that i've had genuine crushes on (like, lasting crushes and crushes that make my heart flutter and not just in a brief "oh, he's cute" kind of way) were all def . . . older than me, and not just by a year. like, i think the youngest crush crush on a guy that i ever had on someone was 3 years older than me, and that was considered an outlier, and the guy who i liked and dated the most was a good 5 years older than me. i wasn't a minor at the time, but i look back on that time and still wonder, why did i do that? and also, why did he think it was a good idea to date me anyways? don't you think 19 was too young and etc.

but anyways! we're older and wiser now, and even though legally, there's nothing wrong with me dating a guy who's 5 or 10 years older than me, i think i'll still veer away from it for now, just because i know that personally, i can't deal with that kind of stuff, so i'll keep my crushes locked up in a box and etc.

81. What's the worst crime you think you're capable of committing?

oh boy (okay, for legal purposes: i have not committed any of the crimes that i am about to talk about): but probably murder? like, idk, i feel like that's the "end all be all" sort of crime that people would commit if they're just badly pushed enough. i would hope that if i ever committed murder, that it'd at least be somewhat justified.

98. What genre of film or literature do you think your life is? Comedy, romance, action, horror, etc.? Alternatively, if you were written into a fictional universe, what genre would you be best suited for?

oh . . . if my life were film, i feel like it would be a kind of coming-of-age melodrama? sort of like those films that loads of critics whine about how "nothing happens", kind of like movies like columbus (2017) or i am easy to find (2019).

or maybe a psychological thriller? i've been contemplating certain moments in my life a lot lately, and i feel like my life could sometimes easily dig into the same vibes of the anchor (2022), what with themes that are about family + love + how it can be a horrific thing sometimes.

but if i were written into a fictional universe . . . idk, i'd really want it to be a sort of ghost story. i veer away from the genre horror, because i'm not sure if it qualifies as horror--when i talk about ghost stories, i'm talking about ghost stories like the haunting of hill house or the haunting of bly manor (really, anything directed by mike flanagan) or hotel del luna or, arguably, doctor who. i would love to just be. like. a ghost or something that's not-really-a-ghost-but-is-still-very-old-and-might-not-move-on-for-a-while. how do you love something that's already dead and how do you love after feeling like you haven't moved in years kind of stories, stories about choosing kindness after years of hurt or the sadder, uglier kind of story, the one where the characters choose to cave in and turn hollow because enough is enough and etc etc etc.

[dear-yandere]

delirium.

yandere! zhongli, childe, xiao, scaramouche x gn! reader.

not sfw (18+) scenarios, liyue + fatui edition.

tw: dubcon + alcohol (xiao), noncon (childe, scaramouche), blood (childe), implied physical abuse + exhibitionism (scaramouche).

disclaimer: this is not a healthy relationship (apart from zhongli’s...maybe).

art belongs to ぐみ, kaskia, and kureiiro.

zhongli

he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

your lips are someplace they shouldn’t be and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. his fingers—fingers that have conquered humans and gods alike—sit awkwardly on your hips, twitching with embarrassment and pleasure for each kiss you lay upon his neck. he’s warm there, just how you like it, and you waste no time laying hotter, wetter kisses along the apex of his jawline.

“t...” he catches himself before he can stutter like a fool. “this is inappropriate, my beloved.” he clears his throat, and you’re quick to silence him with another kiss.

“this is what you wanted.” you playfully remind, not once missing the pink blush on his cheeks. 6,000 years old, and he has never done this with someone he loves; you suppose you should take that as a compliment, but really, you’re just excited by the thrill of dominating a god in bed. 

“i suppose you’re correct, but this still doesn’t feel...” he starts, but his eyes get caught on the way your legs are straddling his hips;  he draws a sharp breath, an embarrassment washing over him.

you laugh, and it’s like music to his ears. “this is what lovers do, zhongli. that’s what we are, isn’t it?” you tilt your head, your smile coy. “it says so right in the contract.”

ah. he can’t argue with that, so he shuts up.

you giggle in triumph and continue your ministrations, paying his awkward touches and clumsy kisses no mind. it’s cute, the way he’s trying so desperately to restrain himself; you sort of want to see him... snap.

the lower your kisses get, the more he questions why he’d ever want you to stop. and he reminds himself that you’re right, that your lips belong there. they belong on him... just like lovers do. then... as it stands, letting you straddle him to the futon is fulfilling no such obligation. as your loving husband, it’s his duty to see to it that you’re well taken care of.

it’s in the contract, after all.

you’re on your back before your lips can reconnect with his skin. 

“allow me.“

tartaglia + fatui! darling

"does my little mouse want to cum?”

childe pushes his hair back to get a better look at your pitiful state. you’re standing on your knees, battered and blooded from the fight he’d forced you into, and your cheeks are stained with tears and dirt. his gaze locks onto your face, analyzing your reaction to the cock stuffed down your throat—and the dagger pressed against your jugular. 

your whimpers died down a while ago. must’ve realized you lost this battle in its entirety.

“you were so full of yourself earlier.” childe jeers, enjoying the way you squirm with humiliation at the thought. you’ve always been aware that the difference in skill between you and him was far too great to warrant anything close to a win in battle, but the situation you’re in now does nothing but add insult to injury.

just how he likes it.

“now that i have a fistful of your hair and i’ve brought you to your knees, you have nothing to say.” his laughter bounces from the walls without a care for who hears. “for all that strength you tout, you can’t even handle this?” he tugs your head back, admiring the way your bloodied face contorts with pain when a few strands of hair come with it. “how pathetic.”

you’re tempted to bring your teeth down onto his—

“bite and i’ll cut your tongue off.” he smiles. you’re not safe even in your own thoughts. “if you’re good, i’ll even help patch those wounds up for you. doubt you can reach most of them by yourself.” he chuckles, and you recall that he deliberately aimed at places you can’t reach. your back is covered with a litany of fresh wounds and blood, and your arm have so many small wounds it’d be impossible to reach your back on your own.

bastard.

your lips instinctively squeeze around his dick; to your displeasure, he moans, and a laugh soon follows. “careful, sugar. don't squeeze so hard my cock slips out.” he hums and bucks into your mouth. you nearly gag when he hits the back of your throat.

“we’ve hardly started.”

xiao

“oi, take responsibility.”

your eyes are shameful when they avert to the side, your skin dusted with hot embarrassment and arousal. the sight before you was one you could’ve imagined only in your wildest dreams —the esteemed adepti xiao’s legs spread around either of your ears, his eyes blurry with excitement and sake. his pale skin is red with the effects of liquor and arousal, and his lips are twisted into a lopsided smile; it looks like it’s taking all of his facial muscles to keep the expression intact.

he’s not in his right mind, but you know better than to disobey his orders. xiao is a patient man lest you cross him; and, despite his keen affections for you, you’re no more exempt from those rules than the archons themselves.

so you purse your lips and nod; he seems pleased at that. 

you hear him draw a sharp, excited breath when your fingers venture to the belt keeping his pants up; on his exhale, he can hardly contain his delight when the fabric around his waist loosens and slides down his thighs. atop his warm skin, your fingers twitch with fear and elation.

even in his drunken state, he senses your hesitation. you nearly yelp when his hand shoots out and grabs hold of yours, but his grip is nothing short of gentle. they hold yours as if you are something to be treasured; despite all he’s threatened to do to you when he’s in a fit of rage, you can’t help but feel more at ease.

you let him take your hand.

his hands are flushed and shaky as they guide yours to the tip of his cock. you draw a shaky breath, the feel of his skin foreign. this will be your first time with him; you remind yourself that you shouldn’t be doing this. he’s drunk, he’s not in his right mind. but if you don’t, he’ll...

he cuts your train of thought with a sharp tug of your chin, pulling your head closer to his throbbing member. he doesn’t have to speak for you to understand what he wants.

“suck.”

if you don’t, there’s far worse in store.

scaramouche

“aw, are you going to cry? beg me to stop?”

you hurriedly shake your head.

“go on then. tell me what’s the matter, pet.” he nudges your bruised cheek with his knee; the skin there still stings from his earlier assault. you’ve learned since then—to be a good pet, to listen to him when he speaks, to do as he says without question nor hesitation. “have you gone mute already?” he sighs and rests his head against his knuckles. “that’d be no fun...”

you just want him to let you go.

you shake your head once more, uttering a small ‘no’ to sate his admonishments. you’ve learned not to speak unless spoken to. you’re better off that way.

“you were running your mouth earlier. where did all that bravado go, i wonder?” scaramouche’s lips twitch into a cruel smile. looking at you now, no one would ever think you were talking back to him only minutes ago. poor little thing, you had to be put in your place. you’re curled onto your knees now, shaking like a newborn pup, and he likes you better that way.

you deserve a reward.

he offers a pitying caress against your raw cheek; his skin is frigid to the touch, and you lean into it more so to relieve the hot ache of your bruise than because you’ve been instructed to do so. he accepts your subservience all the same, so long as you’re subservient to him.

“strip.” 

he barks another order and your body immediately goes stiff. normally, you would have shot up and done exactly as he wished, but you didn’t. not this time, not with the prying eyes of his envoy watching your humiliation in full display. you didn’t want it to come to this, to be disrobed and ridiculed before anyone other than him. if you were alone... it was just him, you could’ve lived with the shame, because no one would know but him. 

and he knows that.

when you don’t move fast enough to his liking, he kicks into your stomach—light enough that there won’t be bruises. you’ve been so wonderful lately; it’d be a shame if you ended your good streak now.

 “my precious, stupid little pet. you’ll do well to remember that when i say something, you do it. quickly.” his tone is final. 

“else i’ll have my men strip you themselves.”

dear-yandere, all rights reserved.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

More demon!Nesta please I am begging 🧎🏽‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️

Thank y'all so much! I'm glad everyone has been enjoying Demon Nesta :) And I hope y'all enjoy this installment. It has fluff! It has angst! It's over 4,000 words which is CRAZINESS! But shout-out to @talkfantasytome for the idea for Cassian's deal. Also, I tried to pull from Greek mythology in terms of the Underworld and souls but uh... yeah... just go with it! TW for mentions of death and intense Underworld things

Part One // Part Two

Cassian doesn’t like to admit it, but the weather can play a pretty big role in his moods. He considers himself a pretty carefree person through and through, but there’s something about it. Something about waking up to the sun slipping between the cracks of his curtains, painting soft golden spotlights across his floor and sheets. Something about crisp blue overhead and a gentle breeze filling his lungs. It has an uncanny way of flooding his veins and burrowing deep in his bones in the best way.

But for the first time in a long time, Cassian finds himself wishing for darker weather. Wishing for heavy grey clouds to fill the sky, to engulf and blot out the sun, the moon. Sadly, his wishes go unanswered, and Cassian awakes to just a few white wisps streaked across blue. He barely holds in a groan at the back of his throat as he lets his head drop back down against his pillow. He lets himself count to five, let’s his brain focus on each breath as it pulls at his chest and settles in his lungs, before finally pulling himself up.

When he gets down the stairs, Nesta is already up and sitting at his kitchen table, a steaming mug in front of her and an open book perched in one hand. Cassian can’t help but notice the air mattress that’s already deflated, blankets neatly stacked atop it. The sight has Cassian swallowing hard.

“I couldn’t touch them,” Nesta says, not bothering to look up from her page. “But I can feel the power. They’re definitely charged.”

Cassian turns his attention to the crystals sitting on the sill by the open window. He carefully gathers them up, placing them back in the box the shop woman had originally packed them in.

“What are you doing? We need those for the banishment.”

“We can do it tonight,” Cassian explains simply. “I vote that we spend the day doing something fun.”

Nesta slowly closes her book, pinning Cassian with an unimpressed look, nose scrunched and eyes narrowed. Cassian refuses to let the look get under his skin the way he knows she hopes. Instead, he just smiles.

~ * * * ~

“This is your idea of fun?”

Cassian chuckles as he throws his truck into park, turning to where Nesta has her arms crossed in the passenger seat.

“Well, I don’t want to look like a crazy person talking to myself, so that sort of limited my options.”

Before Nesta can protest more, Cassian throws open his door. He hops down and walks around to the passenger side, opening Nesta’s door for her. Nesta slides out of the truck, her feet crunching against the gravel of the parking area. He leans in to grab the backpack from the backseat, tossing it over his shoulder. When he turns back to Nesta, her arms are still crossed and that ever present scowl is pinched across her face.

"That doesn't look like the face of someone who is about to have fun," Cassian teases.

"Has anyone ever told you you're annoying?"

"Multiple times actually."

"And you don't think that warrants a personality change?" Nesta quips.

"You and I both know you wouldn't have me any other way, sweetheart."

And with that, Cassian turns on his heel, making his way toward the trail head. Luckily, Nesta doesn't make any further comments, nor does she dispute his claim, as Cassian hears her soft footsteps fall in behind him.

The start of the hike is a bit steep, so Cassian has Nesta walk in front of him along the narrow path to avoid her slipping. They weave their way up and up, the main road and its cars getting smaller and smaller until they eventually disappear behind the sea of bark. The breeze shakes the branches above their heads, raining down leaves that crunch under their feet.

At a particularly tricky section of the trail, Nesta grips Cassian's hand in her own. He helps hold her steady as she navigates the small rocks pressed into the dirt to create a semblance of stairs. Despite her being a demon and the cool Autumn air, her hands are surprisingly warm, and when the trails evens back out and she releases her grip, Cassian misses that heat instantly.

The path finally branches off to a series of flat rocks, creating a type of overhang, and as they step out of the cover of trees, the full sight takes shape. Canopies of reds and yellows stretch out below them, leaves twisting and swaying in the fall breeze. The Sidra River cuts a path to their left, blue waters glistening and tiny shops and homes dotted along its banks. The sky is mostly blue, but the white clouds that do marr its surface create streaks of light like the Cauldron itself shining down.

Cassian finds himself entranced as he watches Nesta take in the view. The way her whole face softens and her lips part slightly in awe. Her eyes dancing across the landscape before fluttering closed, dark lashes splaying across the apples of her cheeks. Her chest heaving as she takes in a deep breath.

"It's beautiful," Nesta comments.

"Yeah," Cassian whispers, never taking his eyes off her.

It takes a moment, but Cassian shakes himself out of it. He steps forward to join Nesta, sliding the backpack off his shoulders before settling with his feet dangling over the edge of the rock. Nesta settles beside him, as Cassian digs through the bag, pulling out the two sandwiches he had packed and handing one to Nesta.

“It’s so… quiet,” Nesta notes as she unwraps her sandwich.

“The peacefulness is why I like to come out here,” Cassian says, turning his head to face Nesta. “Oh. Um… you have a little…”

Nesta’s eyebrows dip in confusion, and Cassian gestures to his own face in an attempt to better explain what he means. Nesta just continues to blink at him. After another moment passes, Cassian decides to say ‘fuck it.’ After all, this could very well be their last day together. He reaches his hand up between them, his thumb rubbing gently against the corner of Nesta’s lip. Nesta’s eyes catch on his at the brush of his skin against hers, and Cassian isn’t sure if either of them is breathing. Her skin is soft and tantalizing, and Cassian can feel himself subconsciously leaning in closer before he catches himself, pulling back and clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s fine,” Nesta assures him. “Should we head back?”

Cassian can feel the word ‘no’ weigh heavily against the tip of his tongue, desperate to escape, so he swallows it down and simply nods. He offers Nesta his hand, but she doesn’t take it, pulling herself to her feet. She takes one last look at the view, something Cassian almost thinks is longing gracing her face, and then heads back for the path. As they make their way down the trail, Cassian finds himself desperate for miles, for the woods around them to stretch for miles and miles and swallow them whole. Instead, his truck comes into view.

~ * * * ~

The sun is just beginning to set when they pull into Cassian’s apartment complex, purple clouds bleeding into deep blue as the first stars begin to twinkle to life. The ride up the elevator is silent, and it takes all of Cassian’s willpower to quiet the incessant buzzing of thoughts ricocheting around his head as he gathers the crystals and sage. Nesta produces a piece of black chalk from somewhere, holding it out for Cassian.

Cassian takes a deep breath before reaching forward and taking the piece of chalk out of Nesta’s outstretched hand. He bends down and begins drawing the circle along the floor. Once the circle is complete, he pauses, fingers gripping the piece of chalk tighter. Before he can talk himself out of it, he draws the line of the pentagram.

“I don’t think we need a pentagram. The lady at the shop just said a circle,” Nesta points out.

Cassian ignores her, hopping to his feet and collecting candles, lighting and setting them around the pentagram.

“What are you doing? You’re supposed to be using the crystals, not candles.”

Cassian digs his phone out of his pocket, finding his message chain with Rhys, the photo of the page he had pleaded with him to find in his library. He can feel Nesta’s eyes on him, but he reads the words in the photo.

A deep rumble seems to shake the whole apartment, the pressure in the air dropping as dark tendrils skate along the floor in swirling clouds. Barely another moment passes before a man is standing in the center of the pentagram, power pulsing out of him in heavy waves. His dark eyes pin Cassian in place like a predator sizing up its prey. A slow smile pulls across his face, all sharp edges and too white teeth.

“You humans always do have a death wish,” the demon sneers, looking at Cassian down his nose in disgust.

Cassian resets the stance of his feet, squaring his shoulders as he stares the demon down. “I want to make a deal.”

“Do you?”

“For Nesta’s soul.”

The demon’s eyes snap to where Nesta is standing, watching the whole exchange with wide eyes, before settling back on Cassian. Something like realization seems to crash across his features, and then he laughs. It’s mocking and wrong and it grates against every nerve ending in Cassian’s body.

“A soul has a high price, boy,” the demon bites out. “Are you sure it's worth it?”

“Yes,” Cassian replies without hesitation, earning a head tilt from the demon in response.

“Interesting…” the demon comments before a slow smirk tugs up one side of his lips. “Alright. You can have her soul… if you can find it.”

With a wave of the demon’s hand, a door appears suddenly against the wall of Cassian’s living room, the wood a dark oak with wrought iron nailed into lines across the planks. The hinges creak open, and the darkness awaiting on the other side has the air stuttering to a stop in Cassian’s lungs. A cold breeze blows out the door, leaving goosebumps breaking out along his skin, and he swears there’s a heartbeat coming out of the unnatural darkness. Or maybe that’s his own heartbeat pounding through his ears.

At some point during the process of the door appearing and opening, Nesta has drifted to Cassian’s side. He reaches over to take her hand in his, palms sliding together and fingers tangling in a tight grip. He takes a final deep breath, trying to calm the budding panic settling in his stomach and threatening to claw its way up his throat, then steps through the threshold. The door closes behind them with a resounding boom, and all that’s left is the darkness.

“You know, I knew you were an idiot when you accidentally summoned me, but this is taking it to a whole other level,” Nesta snaps at him, tearing her hand free from his.

Cassian turns toward her voice, blinking a few times to get his eyes to adjust. “Are you kidding me?”

“I should be asking you that! What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking about you,” Cassian practically yells. “I can’t lose you.”

“And I’m supposed to be okay with losing you? This is a suicide mission. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“It’s worth the risk.”

“No, I’m not,” Nesta protests, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Cassian steps forward, finding his way toward Nesta through the shadows enveloping them. He reaches his hands up between them, framing her face and sliding his thumbs against her cheekbones. They may not get another moment. Nesta may be right and this may be a suicide mission, a fool's dream. So Cassian finally gives in. He gives in to that feeling that's been bubbling and flourishing deep inside him since he first saw her standing in the middle of his living room. That feeling that took root in his chest and spread like vines through his veins until every part of him thrummed for her. He finally leans down and presses his lips against Nesta's, relishing in the softness of them, in the soft sigh that skates across his skin as she melts into him.

A screeching cry breaks the darkness, causing them to break apart. Cassian snaps his head in the direction of the sound, squinting through the shadows. He’s not sure why, but he half expects some winged creature to come tearing toward them, but the stillness remains.

“Welcome to hell,” Nesta mutters. “Literally.”

Nesta grabs his hand and begins walking. He wonders if her demon eyes help her see down here as he blindly follows her. But luckily, as they walk, shapes start to take form. They’re in some sort of tunnel, jagged obsidian rock framing them on both sides and above their heads. Some sort of dark liquid drips down along the rock, and Cassian shudders to think what it could be. Their steps begin to echo around them, the ceiling of rock starting to stretch higher and higher.

The darkness finally begins to bleed into a pale light, and Cassian is finally able to take in more around them. Particularly, the forms walking past them along the walls. They’re ghostly devoid of any color, clothes ragged and barely hanging on to their lithe limbs. Their steps don’t make a sound, and their gaunt faces stare straight ahead with a hollow expression.

“Don’t look at them,” Nesta snaps, keeping her voice low.

“Are they dangerous?”

“If they feel threatened.”

Cassian glances back to the forms. One of them lifts their head slowly, vacant eyes meeting his. Cassian quickly snaps his eyes back forward, just in time to see the tunnel empty out into a large room. Despite there being no sunlight, a large elm tree stretches its branches wide and high to their right, its leaves an ominous deep red. A tall double door made out of that same dark stone stands a few feet ahead, intricate drawings carved into it. It seems to follow some sort of story, the way the carvings weave together. In front of the doors, evenly lining either side, are statues. Cassian swears their stone faces watch him.

Before they make it to the door, the statues snap to life, and suddenly, Cassian finds Nesta’s hand torn away from his own and three female figures crowding into his space. They each are wearing a pale flowing dress, but Cassian doesn’t miss the emptiness to their eyes. Those eyes bore in him, burrowing under his skin like claws, as they circle around him like prey.

“Who do you think you are?” one of them bites out, dragging a nail across his shoulder and down his arm.

“What is it you think you’re doing?” another snaps, digging nails into his forearm in an iron grip.

“Just let us pass,” Cassian pushes out through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure it’s worth it?”

“Are you sure she wants it?”

“Are you sure she wants you?”

“Why would she want a bastard like you?”

“What do you have to offer her anyways?”

“As soon as you free her soul, she’ll find someone better, someone worthy.”

Cassian squeezes his eyes shut, focusing his mind on drowning out their lilting voices dripping with cruelty. He thinks instead about Nesta. As the women continue to hiss in his ears, he thinks of Nesta’s soft smiles, the ones she rarely shares but he knows are just for him. As the women’s nails scrape against his skin and through his hair, he thinks of Nesta’s soft golden waves and the way they fall against her shoulders and back when she wears her hair down. He reaches out blindly for Nesta’s hand to ground him but comes up empty. It makes his eyes snap back open.

Over one of the women’s shoulders, Cassian finds Nesta. She’s standing stark still, a man Cassian doesn’t recognize, who doesn’t look like one of the statues from before, standing before her. The sneer painted across the man’s face and the way his eyes seem to be cutting into Nesta is enough to have Cassian using all his strength to get away from the women. He tears his arm free, pointedly ignoring the pain at the action, shouldering past the other woman blocking his path.

It only takes a few seconds to get to her, and he’s putting himself between this man and Nesta. He’s not quite sure what the man is, but the way his skin seems to bubble and shimmer has Cassian thinking he must be some sort of shapeshifter. The sneer falls from the shapeshifter’s face and his head tilts eerily as he takes Cassian in with dark eyes. Even though those eyes never leave Cassian’s face, he can feel them dig into his bones, sinking into his soul and the secrets it bears. Slowly, the shapeshifter begins to stretch and change, an all too familiar set of dark curls appearing, but the face is less familiar, even as the cruel lines of the smile strike a chord deep in Cassian’s chest.

“Let us pass,” Cassian says again, keeping his voice steady as he reaches back for Nesta’s hand.

The shapeshifter doesn’t say anything, so Cassian decides to take a tentative step forward. When nothing happens, he takes another. The shapeshifter’s eyes follow them, and Cassian can still feel the eyes of the three women crawling over his skin, their hisses of doubt still trying to worm their way into his mind. But Nesta’s hand is a solid weight in his hand, so he presses on, past the other guards, and pushes through the door.

The other side of the door is more darkness, but globes that flicker a sickly yellow at least line the walls. In the distance, Cassian swears he can hear running water.

“Who was it?” Nesta whispers as they walk. “Who did Fear show you?”

Cassian swallows around the lump trying to solidify in his throat, tightening his grip on Nesta’s hand. “My father.” When Nesta doesn’t say anything more, Cassian decides to give in to the question on his mind. “Was the man you—Feyre mentioned there was a guy that—”

“Yes.”

Before Cassian can say anything more, they come up on a river of some kind. It’s wide, but even in the dim lighting, he can see the other side. From the shore they’re standing on, it doesn’t look too deep, but the current is slow enough that Cassian is sure that even if it's not, they should be able to make it to the other side with little issue.

“Cassian, stop!” Nesta’s panicked voice breaks through the quiet, her hand tugging hard against his. “Just one foot in and they’ll pull you under.”

“What will?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“What do we do then?”

“Wait.”

Cassian turns to Nesta fully then, his brow furrowed in confusion and tongue heavy with further questions, but Nesta’s gaze is pinned down the river to their left. A small yellow orb breaks through the shadows. It bobs and grows, and soon Cassian realizes it’s coming from a lantern attached to a wooden boat. At the other end of the boat stands a man, or at least Cassian thinks it’s a man. A long, ragged black robe hangs from his body, and the hood hides the top half of his face, only long pale fingers that grip the oar truly visible. The boat comes to a stop in front of them, and the man holds out a hand expectantly.

“You have to pay with a memory,” Nesta explains. “Something important, that means a lot to you.”

Cassian watches as Nesta extends her hand, the way she closes her eyes and shudders when it meets with the man’s. After a moment, the man’s hand shifts toward Cassian, and Cassian slowly raises his own, clasping to fingers around that pale palm. Cassian’s eyes slide closed, and suddenly he’s ten years old. Twinkling red and green lights flicker in his eyes, and the laughs of Rhys and Azriel in the other room echoes in his ears. He can just make out the fresh pine scent of a recently cut down tree and the smokey smell of a crackling fire, but it’s the soft perfume that fills his senses. Delicate hands guide his own as he presses a cookie cutter into the dough. Before Cassian can focus on anything more, the scene falls away to blackness, and when he blinks open his eyes, he can’t even remember what he had been thinking about.

Satisfied with their payment, the man steps back to take up post at the back of the boat. Nesta steps in first and Cassian follows behind her. Once they’re both settled, the man pushes off the shore with the oar. As they make their way down the river, Cassian can’t help but lean over and look into the dark waters below. Gaunt faces with empty eyes stare back at him, their mouths agape and frail limbs reaching up through the dark waters. Suddenly, Cassian understands why Nesta said not to step in the water.

The water begins to pick up around them, burbling and rising around them in swirling waves. They lap up against the side of the boat, and Cassian grips the wooden seat beneath him to stay steady against the rocking. A dip in the river sends the boat careening slightly forward, the sound of the waves growing louder and louder, echoing in Cassian’s ears and bouncing around his head. He can’t see ahead, but he’s sure there must be some sort of rapids. Considering the jagged rock of this whole place, he’s not sure how that will end, and he can’t help but swallow hard against the fear bubbling in his throat.

“Hold your breath,” Nesta’s voice draws his attention suddenly.

“What?”

“Hold your breath, and don’t stop. Even when it hurts. Even when that little voice tells you not to.”

Before Cassian can even ask what she means, the boat jerks suddenly, and then there’s water pressing in all around him. He opens his eyes, but in the dark waters, he can’t tell which way is up. He pushes his arms and tries to swim anyways, hoping his instincts are right and he’ll find the surface. After a few moments, a burning feeling begins to spread in his chest, squeezing his lungs, begging for air. Cassian tries to swim harder, willing his arms to push through it as he fights to find the surface, but he stops short when a familiar voice caresses its way into his mind. It’s a voice of lullabies, of quiet bedtime stories about princes and warriors.

“Let go, Cassian,” the voice whispers. “Let go and breathe in.”

Cassian thinks back to Nesta’s words, and he squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his lips firmly together as he ignores the voice.

“I said let go,” the voice hisses, no longer soft and motherly.

Cassian wills his mind to stay blank, to keep the air tight inside his lungs, even as the voice gives way to a ringing in his ears, even as red begins to pop behind his eyelids. He clenches his fists to ground himself, and he holds his breath.

When Cassian’s eyes snap open, he gasps for air, instantly coughing as dust and dirt fill his mouth. He rolls onto his back, his chest heaving as he swallows down gulps of oxygen. As his lungs finally start to settle, he takes in his surroundings. He seems to have ended up in another tunnel of shadows and jagged rock. He pushes to his feet, and it’s then that he realizes he’s alone. He spins quickly in his place, eyes searching desperately for a familiar figure.

“Nesta?” Cassian rasps, his throat still aching from before. He clears his throat. “Nesta!”

Cassian strains his ears, but only silence answers him. A stone settles hard and heavy in his stomach, his heart clenching in his chest before kicking up to beat double time. He can already feel the bile threatening to climb up his throat, as he forces his feet to move further down the tunnel.

“Nesta!” Cassian calls again, hearing the thick worry that coats his own tone. He doesn’t care, not as his blood pounds in his ears, as his whole body starts to shake. How could they have failed? How could they have come this far, but not far enough? Cassian presses his palms hard against his eyes, tries to stave off the panicked water beginning to build there. How could he be so stupid? He tries to take a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves, but all it does is stutter through his lungs.

“Nesta, fuck, where are you?” he mutters.

Cassian is about to try calling her name again when he notices a light. Before he can even think, he’s running in that direction. The tunnel gives way to a meadow, and Cassian has to cover his eyes and blink a few times against the brightness. A warm, summer breeze dances across his cheek, leaving the tall blades of grass and soft flowers dotting through the green swaying like a gentle tide. And there, in the center, is a figure, a soft blue dress adorning her frame and golden brown waves flowing down her back.

Slowly, Cassian steps through the meadow toward her. He prays to whatever gods that may be listening that it isn’t a trick, that he isn’t dreaming.

“Nesta,” Cassian whispers, reaching out for her arm.

She turns, and this time there’s smokey blue eyes staring back into his own.

[dearchilde]

MY SHIKANOIN HEIZOU HEADCANONS

if you aren't aware of who he is, heizou is a genshin impact character, currently unreleased. @chimkennuggieee has drawn him (speculation) and inspired me to think of these hc's

TW; NON-GRAPHIC MENTIONS OF TORTURE

- He's a huge asshole. I'm talking like “lmao your dumbass doesn't even know basic traffic laws?? might as well just run into the busy road while we're at it.”

- I see him breaking into someone's house, gets the police called on him, only to reveal he had a search warrant on him the entire time. cheeky bastard.

—

"Detective...you could have presented the warrant to avoid all of this trouble..."

"This asshole wouldn't open the door AND he didn't even bother asking if I had one to begin with."

"BECAUSE IT'S YOUR DUTY TO INFORM THEM YOU HAVE A WARRANT ON YOU—” (I dont know laws don't come at me.)

—

- Absolutely torments the hell out of Kujou Sara via Itto. Whenever Sara dumps a shit ton of work on his desk, Heizou makes sure to get back at her by using the Oni to do the dirty work for him.

—

“I heard that woman owes you something, right? I have her entire schedule for this month, but keep it between the two of us, hm? We wouldn't want to draw attention to us, Mister Oni.” (gets a sick thrill of joy when he heard Sara has been neglecting her duties because Itto has been standing outside her office door, demanding for several rematches.)

—

- you know that saying "keep your friends close and your enemies closer"? well scratch that, you don't want heizou as one of your enemies. trust me.

- despite his role as a detective, he gets a sick thrill of interrogating perpretrators he's had a pleasure meeting outside of cases. justice be damned.

- would not let anyone else inside the interrogating room, only morbidly assuring the officers that he will get the information he wants. not what they're looking for.

- goes freaking tsukasa yugi on them.

- abuses his vision to extract information. oh, they won't talk? good luck trying to beg him to stop, he won't hear their pleads and cries over the sound of his own laughter as they're being electrocuted.

- only when the perpretrator (or victim in this case now...) is on the brink of passing out does he stop and begins asking his questions again. he's THAT big of a douche.

I'll maybe add more to this later, but for now this is all I thought of. This went from 0 to 100 real quick lol I DONT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE SARA ONE

I believe Heizou's design (reiterating that it's FANMADE) was inspired by Edogawa Ranpo from Bungou Stray Dogs, probably in personality, too. This was my interpretation for his personality, lmk what you guys think!