#once again scale has been COMPLETELY ignored

[bgsartcavern]

Finally got these done, just like I promised! Time is an illusion so let's not worry about how this is 3 months late, okay?

Thanks to everyone who submitted their characters to me, and to everyone who let me turn their guys into robots!

(Reblog don't repost!)

Credits!

Blixer (top left) - @sillyshape Blixer Eclipses - @jsabaddict Gray Blixorus - @aliviasyl Fresh - @sleeplesscubes Xenon - @glaciers-blorbo-purgatory Blixer (bottom middle) - he's mine!! Blixer Kunzite - @woahtriangle Blixer (bottom right) - @spirit262

Thanks so much for your patience on this one, everyone! As always if I didn't send you a solo fullbody of your dude and you'd like one just let me know and I'll get that to you :)

[heliads]

Hey babe, if you're still taking requests, can I request something for Harry Hook from descendants? It takes place in an AU where basically all the kids are "chosen" to be parts of fairytales. (Think Ever After High mixed with School for Good and Evil). This world is complete with everything you see in disney movies with epic fights and songs. Heroes get love ballads and villains get traditional villain songs. Reader and Harry are friends (with feelings) on the isle and get chosen for a story, and are both super excited because they think they'll both be villains together. So imagine their surprise when they get their first song together and it sounds an awful lot like a love song.

This AU has been living in my head for a long time tbh but I have no writing skills T-T. Feel free to ignore it this is not your style or I accidentally sent this after requests closed.

'one story leads to another' - harry hook

masterlist

On the Isle of the Lost, a story is everything. Receiving a good story catapults a promising villain into a fantastic life of infamy, but a lackluster story seals your fate forever to menial satisfaction alone. Henchmen, not gods. Lackeys and thugs, never the criminal boss in charge.

Then again, a worse fate still could befall you. Many would-be villains go their whole lives without receiving a story. They’re not meant for everyone, at all, even if they mean the difference between a true life or a false existence. You can’t fathom training your whole life just to go without, but it’s the reality for many on your island. Even the deck swabbers get to go on exciting adventures with the great pirates of the sea, and even the lowliest prison guard will still live in a cursed palace.

The story controls your life, both literally and figuratively. Once you’re given a story, you’ll have no choice but to follow it out, even if it ends with your death. Then again, a story isn’t over in a matter of days. It’ll shape your life for decades. Even if the main plot is over, you’ll still be someone, and maybe you’ll feature in other people’s stories, too. There’s no way to make it without a story.

That’s why you’ve been throwing yourself into the pursuit of becoming the main character of your own story. You’ve perfected the arts of all things villain– sword fights that always end with you pulling a secret dagger out of a sleeve to tip the scales in your favor, maniacal laughter, elaborate plotting. You could scheme in your sleep or double-cross a traitor with your hands tied behind your back. Although it’s been a long time in the making, everyone on the Isle can admit that you’re the best of the best, and that a story surely has to be coming your way.

The problem, then, is attracting one. Although no rules are set in stone, there are expectations for how one’s story will come about. There will be an inciting event, of course, and then the songs will begin to appear in your head, the footwork and movements placed in your memories without a second thought. You’ll know you’re in the story, and then your life will change forever.

You’ve already seen one play out with some of your closest friends. Mal, one of your best friends since you were kids, got to live out her nefarious dreams, although even she didn’t see the twist coming in her story. Then again, becoming queen of Auradon is certainly a fine trophy for the child of a villain, even if a true marriage of love isn’t quite the way anyone expected her to steal the crown.

Mal has assured you many times over that your story will be coming too, it has to. There’s no way the magic would skip over you, not when you’ve dedicated so much of your life to being the perfect villain for any role. You can lie and cheat and maim with the best of them, surely you’re shaping up to be the arch nemesis in some hero’s grand journey? Your story will be coming your way. Surely. Surely.

And then, all of a sudden, it does. You feel it like a puppet knows its strings. All of a sudden, you have a purpose that you didn’t before. Your feet carry you out of the training yard and out into the sprawling mess of streets that makes up the Isle of the Lost. Your heart soars, and you take to the roofline, staring out at the world before you. It’s yours, all yours, and you know it’s true, so you sing it. The words come to you in a flash, perfect rhymes curling around your tongue as if they’d been there all your life. 

This is what it feels like to be in a story, then. It feels right, more right than anything you’ve known before. Easier than breathing. Simpler than hoping that something like this would come your way, and at last, it has. Nothing could make your flinty heart more proud.

The song ends, and you can hear a ghost of a distant chorus fading out as you make your way back to the ground once more. Your stroll is casual, but the steps are definitely in a specific direction. The last notes fade from the air, your feet stop firmly in place, and you realize that you’re not facing down a potential heist or daring escape but the end of the dock leading into the sea. Directly in front of you lies a pirate ship. 

At first, you’re thrilled– an adventure on the high seas would be fantastic. You’re friends with many of the pirates, even if you haven’t yet gotten a chance to test your fortitude against seasickness before. You cast your mind back to the words you’d just sung, trying to remember if you’d chorused anything about an exciting voyage ahead, or maybe the possibility of sunken treasure.

Instead, your heart sinks as you realize you were talking about exploring what was right in front of you. More specifically, someone right in front of you. And, as you stare with no small amount of trepidation at the pirate ship in front of you, you discover that someone else seems to be in a similar situation as you. Someone who’s just stopped singing a very similar song, who’s standing directly opposite you as if placed there by some immortal hand. Someone you know already.

Someone like Harry Hook.

A belated understanding is beginning to nestle itself between your ribs like a knife in the heart. No, this can’t be. You refuse to believe it. Still, when Harry is the first one to make a move, and walks briskly down the gangplank to stand in front of you, and says in an increasingly cavalier tone, “So, you’ve got your story started too, haven’t you?”

“Harry,” you say weakly. “I didn’t realize that you’d also gotten a song.”

“More than a song,” he says grimly. “I’ve got the whole story.”

You stare at him. “You know how it’s going to end?”

Harry had been doing his best to keep his gaze firmly pinioned on a nearby wall, but his eyes flicker briefly, traitorously, over to you when you pose the question. They snap back immediately, though. For a pirate, he’s never been the best liar, although he tends to make up for it with excellent swordsmanship. “No one knows how their story is going to end until they follow it through.”

You narrow your eyes crossly at him. “But you have a guess, don’t you? Spit it out, Hook. I don’t have all day.”

“Actually,” Harry contradicts, seeming to take great joy in the opportunity to be bothersome, “you do have all day. You’re a part of a story now, love. Your whole life is going to be wherever the wind takes you.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks, Harry. Very helpful. Don’t try to dodge the question, though. You know how this is going to end, right?”

He sighs. “I have an inkling. Very vague. Probably untrustworthy.”

“All pirates are untrustworthy,” you remind him.

He grins broadly, sharklike. “And all children of villains are saints like you, of course.” He groans at your exasperated expression. “Fine, fine. Although I’d suggest you get better at pretending you like playing my little games if you’d like to keep this up.”

Your eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve guessed it already, haven’t you?” Harry says testily. “Think about the songs, Y/N. The melody. That wasn’t a villainous monologue, not even your basic pledge for debauchery and ruin. That was a love song.”

You shake your head frantically. “No, Harry. That was so not right. What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Harry says slowly, “I ‘spose it means we’re meant to fall in love.”

You draw back so quickly that you think you’ve insulted him. “No. Absolutely not. No offense, Harry, but I don’t want to fall in love with you.”

“I’ll try not to let it go to my head,” he says dryly.

You wave a hand dismissively. “It’s not about you, I swear. It’s just– this was supposed to be my story, you know? My whole life. I was supposed to have a glorious adventure, or engage in fantastic battles, but I get one chance at a story and it’s about falling in love? No way. I won’t accept this.”

“You’re acting like I enjoy this too,” Harry retorts. “Quite the contrary, sweetheart. You’re not the only one who’s been dreaming about their story for ages. How do you reckon I’m meant to tell my father that I got a love story? He’d laugh at me so hard he’d probably stop getting scared of that crocodile once and for all. I’m just as unhappy with this as you are, but I’m willing to do something about it.”

You eye him cautiously. “Like what?”

“Let’s play along,” he suggests, and when you look like you’re going to snap at him, he raises his hands defensively and adds hastily, “I know, I know, but hear me out, will you? The faster we get things going, the sooner this ends. You know as well as I do that characters from other stories can take part in other ones, too. ‘Sides, maybe this one isn’t just a love story. Maybe we do travel somewhere exciting, we just don’t know it yet. You don’t have to fall in love with me, alright? We can pretend. We’ll sing our songs, then do whatever we want with our hearts. Me, I’m planning to show my strength by carving mine out of my chest and wearing it as a necklace. It would make a pretty pendant, I wager. Plus, all the crew would be awestruck over it.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words. “Harry, if you cut your heart out, you’d die. If you want a necklace like that, use one of your enemies’ organs.”

He nods appreciatively. “That might work better, I think.” Then, eyeing you apprehensively, “So, does that mean you’re willing to do it? To play along with our story?”

You sigh. “I think it does. It’s not like we have any choice, do we?”

Harry pulls a face. “A girl is cosmically destined to fall in love with me, and in the heat of the moment of her confession, she says it’s because she doesn’t have any choice. Be still, my heart.”

This makes you smile. “You know it’s not personal, Harry. We’ve been friends for ages, I should hope you know when I’m teasing.”

“And I should hope the same,” he says with mock solemnity, although his faux stony demeanor cracks with a wide grin within moments.

You hold out your hand for him to shake. “To falling in love?”

“To falling in love,” he says, and shakes it. So the story begins.

You’re not going to say that it’s difficult, pretending to be in love with Harry Hook. You’ve never had an issue with his company; he’s one of your oldest friends, all of the villain kids on or around the Isle of the Lost have come in contact with each other before, and you and Harry just so happened to cross paths more than a few times. In fact, you’d go so far as to say that if you were forced to sing love songs with any of the villainous children on this island, Harry would be your preferred choice.

And– the problem with that, see, is that it makes this whole thing sound like something it isn’t. You’re not in love with Harry, even if your story seems designed to make you think otherwise. You know how you felt about him before the story began, and a couple of ditties about finding something special in a person you previously overlooked isn’t going to change anything. Harry is your friend. Nothing more than a potential ally.

But then the story takes you two away from the island for a spell, the two of you co-captaining a small sailing vessel by yourselves in search of a magical talisman that would have the power to make every one of your days enchanting. You had assumed it would be a talisman of some sort, that is; yet when the two of you arrived at the hiding place of this supposed treasure and split up to each pursue one length of a split crossroads, your paths looped around so you came face to face with each other again. 

No artifacts, no charms. Just Harry almost stumbling into you, having to wrap one arm around your waist so you don’t fall, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’d been running in an attempt to beat your time. You’d chastise him for it were it not for the fact that you were sprinting, too. You wait for Harry to let you go, but he doesn’t, and instead leans closer, so close you can feel his breath hot on your cheek, and then–

You pull away quickly. Harry looks at you like a wounded dog, which makes you feel sick to your stomach. “No,” you say through gritted teeth. “This isn’t– this isn’t us. It’s the story.”

“Is it really just the story?” Harry asks you.

“Yes,” you say, refusing to consider any other option for a second. “You didn’t love me before it started. The magic is messing with our minds. This isn’t real, Harry.”

He starts slowly walking towards you, and afraid you’ll make a mistake you’ll regret once the story ends, you back up in turn, up until the point when your back hits a wall and you can go no further. Harry, however, has nothing in his way but you, and there is nothing to stop him from closing the gap between you once again.

“Tell me it’s not real,” he says lowly.

“It’s not real,” you repeat.

His hand rises to your chin, tilting it up so you have to look in his eyes. He drinks in the sight of you like he’s been marooned alone for days, like salt water has been his only benediction for as long as he can remember. “Tell me,” he says again.

“It’s not,” you insist, but your conviction is gone, drifted away from you on uncertain tides. “It’s the magic. Not us.”

“Not us?” He asks, and kisses you. Slowly, terribly slowly, he kisses you, and in between silently begging him to move faster, do more, you think about all the times you’ve been under a spell in the past, and how this feels nothing like that. Not at all. Whenever you’re under an enchantment, some small part of you knows it’s wrong, giving you just enough hope that you might be able to fight free.

When you kiss Harry, though, you don’t want him to stop. Not at all. Every single particle in your body is beating along to the same erratic pulse through your veins, the one that leans into his touch, reaching for the front of his salt-stained shirt to pull him ever closer to you. If this is your story, you don’t ever want it to end. If there is a writer out there somewhere, feverishly scribbling out your chapters, you hope they never cease, that every one of their movements until the day they die and then past that will bring you more moments with Harry, moments just like this one in which you never have to let him go.

“It’s not just the story,” you tell him amidst ragged breaths when he finally breaks away.

“No?” Harry asks, one brow quirked. Usually, he’d never pass up the chance to gloat, but he looks sorely disheveled, and he can’t take his eyes off of your kissed lips long enough to give him the chance to revel in his victory like he normally would.

Just in case, though, you distract him from the triumph by kissing him again. Somewhere in the surrounding uncharted territory, the waves crash against the shore, the seabirds wheel and sing on the marine breezes, and you find the magic in the one boy who has always been there for you, and always will be, even after your story ends. That is the magic of love, you suppose. Adventures come to a close. Battles are won, heists are accomplished, but what you and Harry share will go on forever. A fitting legacy for the best two villains who ever lived.

[funbirdnest]

Blackbird (Translation)

I worked in the translation of the story for the past week and I have been unable to shut up about until now. This translation work was done in collaboration of @spectralpooch who worked as English proofreader and provided a lot of insight of the english grammar and composition. I was also helped by Yuko and Asher who helped with wording.

I hope you get to enjoy, even if just a little, the love we all put in this story that we have been waiting seven years for. 

Blackbird

The fantasy is burning.

—At the end of the day, love always prevails.

—Hard work and good intentions are always rewarded.

—As long as you wish for it with all your might, your dreams will always come true.

Such are the nonsensical, gibberish words that everyone recognizes as downright lies once they reach adulthood. And burning within a bonfire is the pile of papers—the representation of the very innocence of a young boy who earnestly believed in those lies.

The embers of dreams and hopes are stirred by the updraft caused by the hot air.

Ashes and soot soar up, miserably staining the clear skies.

“Aah, what a terrible shame.”

Hibiki Wataru looked up at the sky and, in sharp contrast to his words, trembled with pleasure.

He is a beautiful man.

Long, silver-white hair that resembles moonlight incarnate. A physique blessed with a perfect golden ratio.

He is wearing his elegantly designed uniform in quite an incomprehensible way.

His facial expressions and gestures are refined and effusively charming, and it feels as though wing scales and fluorescent lights should flutter around him with every step he takes.

But it is precisely because he is too beautiful that he can stand out in any town.

Every person who passes by throws him a strange look and either turns away or flees the scene as if having just encountered a monster. It is the most appropriate reaction when confronted with a monstrosity, but—

He wants them to at least scream.

To curse, spit, and throw stones at him.

It hurts the most to be ignored.

As if to convey this point, Wataru gestures towards them in invitation to do so—but the only one willing to approach him is a slightly dirtied pigeon.

"Aah, Gil! Poor you, Gilles de Rais¹! Your feathers are completely sullied!" 

Wataru laments while rubbing his cheek against the pigeon perched on his shoulder.

"When you are covered in soot like this, you look more like a crow than a pigeon! Crows are really smart, and they can become great ‘entertainers’ when trained, but people often hate them for no reason—it's troublesome, isn't it?"

At the sight of Wataru having a conversation with a pigeon as though it were completely normal, the people around him begin to back further away.

"... But right now, I have the feeling that such an individual would be the most suitable companion for me."

As Wataru mutters sadly to himself, the soot-covered pigeon pulls his hair with its beak.

“That hurts?! It was just a joke, Gil! Are you jealous? I've raised and looked after you since you were an egg, so there's no way I could ever discard you and look for another partner! Please cheer up—oya?”

As the pigeon goes all out on him, something falls down from the crevice of its beak. 

Cinders.

The wreckage of a dream that had been carried by the wind from afar.

“That's splendid! This will solve the problem of my ink running out!”

Wataru exclaims with pleasure and mashes the cinders with his fingertips.

Then, with fingers stained in black, he writes his name in the bundle of documents that he had been holding.

“—With this, it’s finished.”

Embracing the bundle of documents as though it were his most prized possession, Wataru trembles again.

“I wonder if he will be happy with this.”

***

There was a war.

A tragic conflict in which boys hurt and killed each other for the sake of their own dreams and ideals—for the sake of love.

Of course, although it has now become a gloomy and sorrowful memory, it was not actually a battle where people fought with guns and blades and bathed in each other's blood.

All of them were idols.

Standing on the stage, singing and dancing, their top priority was to bring people happiness.

However, at that time, their place of residence, Yumenosaki Private Academy, was not an environment in which idols could properly live as idols. Everything was decayed, stagnant and rotten.

There were those who stood up in order to change the situation at hand.

There were also those who tried to fight back in anger and sorrow after everything they held dear had been mangled in the name of the "revolution" the others had raised.

They turned the things that were supposed to make people happy into weapons, abused them, and imposed their own resentment and misery onto others.

As a result, this vast and boundless world was changed only slightly.

But the price that had been paid was extremely high.

—Yumenosaki 's era of conflict.

—The first revolution.

—The beginning of the end.

Regret consumes everyone whenever they remember the tragedy of that time.

***

A hospital room.

The brand new hospital in the vicinity of Yumenosaki Academy had been built with a sole purpose: to provide an immediate response on the occasion that a single person's physical condition changed for the worse.

Leading-edge medical equipment and top-notch doctors had been assembled in order to forcibly prolong his existence—sometimes even diverting attention from other, more urgent patients.

He is one of the world's most distinguished billionaires, the scion of the Tenshouin conglomerate, Tenshouin Eichi.

He is the leading actor in the conflict that unfolded in Yumenosaki.

He loved idols more than anyone else.

However, as a result of the kingcraft instilled in him from an early age by his private corporate tutor, the clear mind he has naturally possessed since birth, and his cold heart, he came to massacre the very thing he loved with his own hands.

The many sins he committed in this ironic twist of fate tormented him and made him sick.

“...”

Tenshouin Eichi is lying down on the floor of a very spacious hospital room.

He is also a beautiful man, but there is a crack distorting his beauty.

Seemingly because he hasn’t been eating, he has become emaciated, and his blond hair, which resembles sunlight incarnate², is disheveled and dull. His hospital clothes, composed of high-quality material, are completely wrinkled and dirtied.

Like a baby bird that fell from its nest.

He had ripped off the intravenous drips and other pieces of medical equipment designed to keep him alive and smashed them to pieces.

There were doctors who genuinely cared for Eichi's well-being and those whose interest in treating him stemmed only from professional duty—Eichi shunned them all equally with curses and threats.

—I don’t want to live anymore.

—So, please, don’t treat me.

—Someone like me doesn’t deserve to live.

“No.”

Eichi, withering and on the verge of death, hears a voice reply to the soliloquy he hadn't expected anyone to hear.

There is only a single small window in the room. No matter how hard one might try to contort their body, it would be impossible to enter through—regardless, it was from that very window that Hibiki Wataru's towering silhouette soundlessly entered. 

It is like a dream.

As if it were a magic trick, he suddenly materializes.

“—It's you. Hibiki Wataru of The Five Eccentrics.”

"That story has already concluded, so will you please stop referring to me that way?"

As he casually replies to Eichi, who had spoken as though in a trance, Wataru strides across the hospital room.

He steps over the countless broken pieces of wreckage scattered across the floor, but never breaks anything.

“Let's readjust our mindset! Now, while we still have the chance to bask in the success of our stage performances, let's sit back and recharge our batteries! That is our duty, Tenshouin Eichi-kun!"

“Just what the hell are you doing here?”

Eichi mutters reproachfully, glaring up at Wataru with cruel eyes.

“Did you come to mock me because I thought I was victorious but wound up losing everything?”

Presumably too prideful to continue behaving in an undignified manner, Eichi staggers to his feet and then takes a seat on the mattress.

Having refused even the cleaning staff, this dirty hospital bed is now his only throne.

“Or do you intend to seek vengeance on behalf of your fellow Five Eccentrics?”

“No, not at all? Although there were some underwhelming parts, you still persevered and accomplished great things atop the stage! You have my praises. I have no reason to make fun of you!”

Wataru continues, his tone cheerful. Scattered, multicolored petals surround a broken flower vase—he gathers them up, grasps them in one hand, and opens his palm to reveal a single perfect flower.

"Besides, my beloved friends, The Five Eccentrics, were not actually killed. They're not that fragile, so I ask that you do not disparage them."

Though his eyes flash with hostility for a single instant, Wataru hides it with the ease of putting on a mask.

“Shu is slowly recovering his strength in the comfort of his dolls and the mutual love they share. Kanata, too, is embarking on a new life together with the inexperienced hero who saved his heart. And, of course, Our Majesty, the Demon King, Rei, too—indeed, someone like him will never die, even if he's killed.”

As he mentions each of the remarkable members of The Five Eccentrics, Wataru smiles.

“And the youngest sibling whom we risked our lives to protect, Natsume-kun, doesn't have a single scar. He quickly found the bluebird you set free, and is venturing forth into his life—not as a member of The Five Eccentrics, but as a human and idol.”

"...They're so strong. Everyone, all of them, are strong and splendid human beings worthy of respect—unlike me. Hiyori-kun and Nagisa-kun, too. It appears that they’ve already begun to move on to their next stage."

Looking somewhat astonished, Eichi hangs his head like a confused lost child.

“Am I really the only one who can’t move? At the end of Yumenosaki's conflict, or the saga chronicling the subjugation of The Five Eccentrics, am I truly the only loser?”

“No, no. I feel the same way. It's embarrassing to admit, but—I don't know what I should do next.”

With a dumbfounded expression that mirrors Eichi's, Wataru fidgets with the flower with his black-stained fingers.

“I'm quite satisfied with how things concluded on that most wonderful stage, even though we had to settle for the second-best result—but I'm at a bit of a loss, as I have no further plans for the future.”

"I see. Would you like me to apologize? By casting you in the role of the villain, a symbol deserving of ridicule and disdain, I turned you into the target of everyone's malice."

“Yes. Thanks to you, no one trusts me enough to work with me, so all of my future plans are now uncertain. I suppose I could arrange a stage and enact a story of my own choosing, but… A one-man show would be a little lonely, wouldn't it?”

"I thought that you would always be happy to stand onstage no matter what—even alone."

“Regrettably, I'm an entertainer whose only purpose is to make others happy. If I were to stand onstage all by myself, I would lose all motivation.”

With a shrug of his shoulders, Wataru quietly offers Eichi the flower.

”And so, I thought I would ask you, the organizer of the most satisfying stage I have ever stood upon, for another commission. That's the reason I came today. Of course, I am also here to visit the sick."

“Was that sarcasm? I humiliated and denigrated you and your beloved friends. I trampled on and killed all of you for the sake of my own dream.”

“No one is dead, Eichi-kun. Everything that took place is just a story.”

”Are you really going to behave like a sore loser and pretend like you all weren't actually hurt?”

"No. If I were to hold a grudge and get angry at you, it would be an insult to my friends' extraordinary performance in their roles as villains. That's why I won't give you the pleasure of my vengeance.”

“I don’t understand your reasoning.”

“It’s a mystery to me too. This is the first time in my life that I have ever felt this alive. It's as though something I cannot quite comprehend is stirring inside me.”

Wataru speaks with an innocent, puzzled expression on his face, as though he were a child who had just tripped for the very first time in his life.

***

“Oops. I went off on a tangent just now, but I meant to give you this gift earlier.”

Suddenly coming to his senses, Wataru quietly hands Eichi the flower in his hand.

The instant that the flower touches Eichi's fingertips, it transforms into a bundle of documents.

It’s just like magic.

“... Oh, my goodness. As always, your magic tricks are beyond comparison, Hibiki-kun.”

“You and I are not particularly close, so don't blurt out things like that as if you know me.”

“I’ve always been watching you.”

Eichi speaks honestly, seemingly too tired to maintain a strong front. He proceeds to look over the bundle of papers.

His expression dawns with astonishment.

“This is—”

“Fufufu. This is the pipe dream³ written by our beloved younger brother and only son, Natsume-kun. He poured all of his heart and soul into it.”

Wataru explains, satisfied with the surprised expression on Eichi's face.

“This is a scenario envisioning a way in which we, The Five Eccentrics, could have achieved victory over you in our final battle the other day.”

“Oh, that's right, just before the decisive battle, you and the other Five Eccentrics had some kind of exchange. I was preoccupied with other matters at the time, so I didn't pay much attention to what all of you were up to.”

Deeply immersed in reading, Eichi flips through the stack of documents carefully. A grin slowly begins to form on his lips.

“Fufu. So cute; it’s really like a fantasy story. ‘I don't want my beloved Five Eccentrics to lose. I want us to have a happy ending where no one has to be sacrificed—’”

"Indeed. He filled the pages with such impossible fantasies and impractical delusions."

“... It was only by defeating you on that stage that we somehow managed to settle things in a conclusive way. If the five of you had won that day, we would still be enmeshed in the middle of an unending conflict.”

"Exactly. I anticipated as much, which is why I was unable to accept this. This present, packed with that child's—with Natsume-kun's—dreams, expectations, and love.”

“And, because we followed the premeditated arrangement, everything went smoothly.”

“That's true. But, just as one would expect from a story desperately written by our beloved child... It's very compelling, isn't it? It'd be heartless to ignore it altogether and just throw it away.”

Wataru gently caresses the pile of documents as if consoling a little baby.

“And that's why I quickly examined the contents, committed them to memory, and secretly copied them. Only moments ago, Natsume-kun burned the original copy himself, so—that child's fantasy should, by all accounts, have been completely erased from this earth.”

Wataru laughs like a naughty child who just successfully carried out a prank.

“Everyone will assume so. And even though this is an imitation, the contents are extremely close to the real thing. No, rather, the contents are only the things that I chose to resurrect in accordance with my own preferences.”

“Hmph. But there's no way you can actually use this, right? It's just a bunch of delusions with no grounding in reality. In other words: worthless garbage. It's nothing more than a work of fiction that fabricates convenient plots for foolish readers who yearn to avert their eyes from this harsh reality.”

Eichi drops the pile of documents onto the dirty bed and sneers at it.

“It has no bearing on the real world. Those kinds of stories only exist in the minds of idealistic writers. It's not the real thing. It's not reality.”

“Right. And so, I'd like to ask you, with your firm grasp on reality, to please rework it.”

“...?”

“You're hospitalized, so you have a lot of free time, correct?”

Wataru smiles, carefully gathering up the documents Eichi dropped one by one.

“Please use that spare time to improve upon this document. And adapt it into a new story in which The Five Eccentrics, your opponents, achieve victory.”

“What would be the point of doing such a thing?”

“You must be prepared for anything the future decides to throw your way, no matter how incredibly low the chances of it actually occurring may be. You know this better than anyone, but you were born with a fragile constitution, so—you could die at any time.”

“...You're right. And now that I've lost my will to live, I'm even refusing treatment.”

“And if you, the main character of this story, were to die and abruptly, nonsensically disappear from the narrative, the entire plot would collapse.”

“.....”

"Do you understand what I mean, Eichi-kun?"

“I understand, Hibiki-kun.”

Eichi's eyes, as cloudy as a corpse's, begin to sparkle.

“I have a responsibility. A responsibility as a protagonist—as an author. I have to be prepared for when my character dies and vanishes from this world—from the story.”

"Yes. However, you don't strike me as an expert storyteller, so I thought it'd be convenient to use something as a basis—for the story. This pipe dream written by Natsume-kun is quite suitable in terms of both content and quality, right?”

“That's right. It's the story that the child prodigy, the youngest member of The Five Eccentrics, wove out of his own life force.”

This time, Eichi doesn’t sneer sarcastically. As he praises his enemy, an honest smile appears on his face.

“Thank you, Hibiki-kun. Since this is a story founded on the premise of my imminent death, I can't let Keito, who hates the thought of me dying more than anyone else, write it.”

Eichi's eyes widen, surprised at the deep affection with which he spoke these words.

He'd assumed he'd lost everything. And yet—is he only now remembering that there are still things worth loving?

“I'll write it. To ensure the story will continue after I'm gone.”

Growing more and more energetic, Eichi stains his fingers with the filth splattered across his bed and begins to scrawl on the back of the stack of documents. His handwriting is so sluggish and messy that no one besides him could possibly read it.

“First of all, let's ensure that I get defeated while I'm still alive. After bringing down The Five Eccentrics and seizing control of everything, I become a power-crazed tyrant. And so, a new generation of heroes stands up to defeat me. It could be Natsume-kun, the surviving member of The Five Eccentrics, or someone else.”

“Yes ♪ And then? What will happen next in this story?”

“It's not enough to merely change the person in power. The masses themselves should mobilize and take action into their own hands to improve the world. Yes, the next step is the people's revolution. That's why... errr... aaahh—”

Eichi is so absorbed in the moment that he scatters the documents. He clutches his head with both hands.

“I can’t work through my thoughts! I'm not a genius, so this is really hard for me! Aah, this is pathetic, and I have no right to ask this of you, but—Can you help me come up with more ideas, Hibiki-kun?”

“Yes, with pleasure ♪ I also have some time to spare, after all!”

Wataru sits on the bed and happily gazes at Eichi, who has become entirely absorbed in the act of weaving⁴ the beginnings of a new story.

“I look forward to seeing what sort of stage I'll stand on next. Aah, in both my past and present, this has always been my only source of happiness.”

“I'm out of paper! I also want something to write with! Hibiki-kun, isn't there somewhere nearby where you could buy some?”

“Yes, yes. Aren't you supposed to be my fan? Are you sure you should be bossing me around like this?”

With a smile that seems to say, Well, it doesn't really matter, Wataru shifts like a bird about to take flight.

“Come on, let's celebrate, let's weave, let's create—a story! In this second iteration, the tragedy will become a comedy! Yes, I'm certain that this next work will be a very enjoyable story!”

“Enough, enough! Stop saying unnecessary things and just hurry up! Before life leaves my body!”

“Yes, yes. You really know how to put people to work, Mr. Author... ♪”

………

And so, Hibiki Wataru chose to assist Tenshouin Eichi in the creation of his story.

Together, they supported one another, engaged in heated debates, and envisioned the future.

It was at the end of that gloomy winter when the two of them, now fine, the rulers of Yumenosaki Academy, were defeated by the revolutionaries of Trickstar.

It was a season when the seeds carried by dirty, exhausted birds finally bloomed into flowers.

1. Gilles de Rais was a leader of the French army and participated in the Hundred Years’ War alongside Jeanne d’Arc as a companion of arms. Later in his life he went on to become a serial killer of children and was condemned to death and hanged. 

In the story “Cinderella on the Stake's Stage,” it’s revealed that Wataru also has a pigeon called “Jeanne d’Arc.”

2. Akira describes Eichi’s hair as “陽光を固めたような” = “As if sunlight has taken physical shape”. Likewise this is also the way he describes Wataru’s hair “月光を固めたような” = “As if moonlight has taken physical shape”.

3. We chose to interchange the words pipe dream and fantasy through the story but they often refer to the same script Natsume wrote.

4. Weaving reads as “Tsumugi” here.

[meownotgood]

more mermaid reader x sailor aki. part 2 of this. ignore how long this is... my... brain worms...

aki returns to sailing a few days later. granted, it's in a much smaller boat: one of his spare fishing boats he used before he saved up enough to purchase a proper one. the ocean can never keep him away for long, no matter what it chooses to throw at him. the familiar sun warms his skin, his lungs filled with breath after breath of the sea. rays shimmer off of clear, cool water. it's hard to believe, almost, that this sea was once rocky and wild. that pelting rain, strong winds, and salty depths almost claimed him.

the water is clear enough, in fact, to allow aki to easily spot a glimmer of green scales and a long, damaged tail.

you've been swimming not far from the shore for a few days now. aki figures you can't head back into the deeper parts of the ocean; you're weak, after all. he can spot you for brief moments amongst the rocks and seaweed, but each time he brings his boat in your direction, you disappear as quick as he noticed you.

aki is beginning to question if he's even capable of helping you in the first place. he doesn't fault you for being scared, for not trusting him. he can hardly think of a reason why you'd choose to save him, really. but if he doesn't get you out of this cove, someone is going to notice. someone with much worse intentions.

so aki throws himself back into his boat and sails into the water, again and again. to little success, of course. after days of trying, the closest he ever gets to you is a few feet away; you hover close to the surface of the water, your hair flowing around you, stray nets of fishing line caught in the mess of your tail. your eyes meet his. aki remains still, wonderment in his gaze. but when he reaches out, fingertips hesitantly skimming the surface of the water, you twist and dive deeper, vanishing into the distance.

he's almost ready to give up. to accept you don't trust him, and leave you to your own whims. until, when he's taking a break from searching, lying back on his boat and watching puffy white clouds pass, he manages to spot a shimmer in the very corner of his vision — aki turns, to see you're already staring at him. head tilted, soft eyes on his, your fingers delicately holding the edge of his boat. you let go as he sits up, but for once, you don't disappear. you swim back a bit, and you eye him up and down, the same pinch in your brows he remembers seeing before. but for once, you stay.

aki feels like he's just struck gold. his heart pounds, and he holds as still as possible, trying to think of something to say, something to do. he has his hair half-up, shell-shaped earrings glitter on his lobes. you notice he has nothing in his small boat, save for a brown pack in a far corner. you examine him cautiously, anyways.

"hello," aki manages. he cringes at how nervous he sounds. can you even understand him? he's known sirens to be able to imitate human speech, but mermaids are completely different. they have their own manner of speaking, and they try to stray away from humans whenever possible. your expression changes slightly when you hear him speak. he can't tell if you have any idea what he's said or not. you look annoyed, almost, the fins on your ears pulled back like a cat about to hiss.

raising out of the water a bit more, you give him his first clear view of your face. parts of your shoulders and chest are textured with the same layer of scales as your tail. you raise your hands above water, and you sign.

aki wishes he paid more attention when he was a kid, to the sign language lessons his parents tried to teach him, because then, maybe, he would be able to speak to you freely. his parents were fishers too. they spent every sunlit day on the ocean, up until when they passed away. there's no use in communicating with mermaids, aki thought — he doesn't care to understand them when they have no interest in people.

and yet, you are different. you're here. you saved him. the storm on that fateful night could have taken him, just as it had once taken his parents. when his brother went out to look for them, only to never been seen again, aki prayed for the cruel ocean to have mercy. he hated it. hated the smell of the sea and the whisper of calm waves, but it was all he had left.

it would drown him some day. he knew it would have him in the end, grasping him in dark watery clutches, like how it took everything he once cared about. when the water was choking him, invading his lungs and promising to be his coffin, until his vision was fading into frothy nothingness, he wasn't afraid of death. the ocean is a home for those with nothing left to lose. still, you saved him from that fate.

why, why was his family left to die, while he was made to live?

he's not sure. there probably isn't a reason. no god is taking pity on him, nor the universe, nor the ocean itself — even though its fierce waves should be punishing him. this is his fault. he's the one who toys with death, who doesn't give a damn towards his own well-being. he's the one who got his brother killed.

all he knows now, is that if he gave up here, if he let you die, he'd only be allowing another sacrifice to be in vain. mermaid or not, it doesn't matter. he wouldn't forgive himself.

your mouth presses into a line. your tail sways, while you gesture to him, to yourself. aki takes a moment or so to grasp what you're trying to say. I know who you are.

blinking, he stares at you with slight confusion. your palms cup together, and they imitate the bob of a vessel on waves. boat. your fingers splay and cross over, matching the crosshatch pattern of mesh, before you reach out and imitate a large shape. net. you make a gripping, stabbing motion. harpoon.

"oh," aki swallows, gaze darkening. "I... I get it."

he tries to formulate a response as quick as possible. you watch, wide-eyed, as he clumsily — endearingly, somewhat — attempts to recall what signs he knows. safe, he demonstrates, with a swift movement of hands clenched, arms crossed over. and then, help, followed by an awkward point to himself. he swears under his breath sharply, stalling, struggling to remember. until finally, he signs hastily: sorry.

your gaze scans him, unreadable. he begins to move slowly, his eyes kept on yours. he reaches back, he grabs the strap of his bag. abruptly, you flinch, dipping below the water slightly.

"no, no, it's okay," aki reassures, holding up his palms. you freeze, and perhaps you can understand him, or maybe it's just his smooth voice reassuring you — but still, again, you don't run. thankfully. aki places his bag in his lap and fiddles with the zipper, shaky, nervous hands struggling to do it right.

"I brought supplies. to help you," he says; he digs around his bag once he has it open, he grasps a roll of gauze and takes it out to show you. "see? don't know how well this'll work, but-" he shows you a small bottle, "I brought disinfectant," another bottle, this one is clear, with liquid sloshing inside, "fresh water." then, he pulls out a large hunting knife, the blade sheathed in leather. still, you know exactly what it is. "to cut the fishing line."

your eyes are wide. you tense, you retreat into the water on instinct, leaving just the top of your head visable.

"it's okay, don't run- no knife? alright, okay. that's fine."

aki stands, the boat wobbling slightly from the shift in his weight. you lift up again, just in time to watch him chuck the knife as far as he can into the ocean. it hits the water with a slight plip, only to sink down until it's gone from view.

"there. I won't hurt you, I promise." his gaze meets yours again, and you seem to breathe deeply, relaxing. your expression carries a hint of understanding. aki kneels down, close to the boat's edge. "it's alright if you don't trust me. but please, at least let me repay you. come here, I'll pull you up."

he extends a hand out towards you, and you give him one more quick once over. carefully, hesitantly, you swim closer. aki admires the way sunlight shimmers in the scales on your cheeks, the way your finned ears twitch in interest. you reach up, your delicate fingers brush his — warm, you are warmer than he thought you'd be. delightfully warm. you take his hand, your palm is soft, yet slippery. aki grasps back, and he pulls.

you're dragged up, as aki heaves you onto the boat, making the whole thing sway and his brows knot from the effort. he grasps both your forearms to make it easier. when the weight of your large tail finally rests down in the boat, he's stumbling back. the entire boat is shifting, and you're falling forward as he's losing his footing.

aki tumbles onto his back with a huff, you settle on his chest — oh, how your poor heart races, pattering to a rapid rhythm between your ribs. your hair drips with water, echoing a steady noise when droplets hit the wooden deck of his boat. his palm idly presses to the small of your back as he sits up.

his touch, the reserved sailor you saved that night, with long dark hair, and handsome features you found unforgettable. he was alone when you decided to follow him. sailing alone, late at night with only the light of the moon and the lanterns on his ship to guide him, while thunder rolled overhead and promised sleeplessness to come. he was either a reckless idiot, a self-sabotaging fool, or both. the dark water hid you from view as you followed in the wake left by his ship. you weren't intending to meddle, but when lightning struck down and his boat crumbled, when he went plummeting into the deep, were you just supposed to leave him to the waves?

should you have just let him die?

you pondered it, while hiding in the rocks of the cove, busying yourself with trying to pull splinters of driftwood from the gash in your tail. you have no allegiance to humans, especially senseless ones. you could have left him so easily and never once turned back. but —

aki glances up at you, lightly catching his breath. and he smiles. his eyes crinkle, his lips tip upward. the way he looks at you is the softest, most genuine thing you've ever known.

you've been hiding all your life. you have never been familiar with anything but the depths, and the occasional ships that drift past. you know humans are dangerous. you haven't spoken with your own kind since you were a child, but you've witnessed what they can do, you've been told they'll hunt you if they see you. for your tail and your scales and the glory; you shouldn't have saved him, that much is obvious. everything was telling you that you shouldn't have.

but aki is the first human you've ever met, and the first person to ever smile at you. in a singular moment, all of your regrets disappear, to be replaced by tender, heart-pounding warmth.

"hello," he repeats, breathing a slight sigh in satisfaction. god, he did it, you trust him. adrenaline runs thick in his veins. he has a damn mermaid in his lap, of all ridiculous things.

he allows his gaze to trail over you. he examines your tail, delicate fins tangled up in fishing line. most of your tail looks salvageable. with the missing section of your end fins, you'll likely never swim the same. but once the wound is given a chance to properly heal, he thinks you could definitely be able to leave the cove.

your arms have scales, your wrists and waist are adorned with pearls and shells tied to form makeshift jewelry. around your neck, you're wearing a familiar, rusted silver pendant.

aki reaches towards you, gazing at you gently. your eyes narrowing, he notices when you flinch, and he stops, but you don't move. instead, you allow him to reach close enough to carefully grasp the pendant around your neck.

his thumb runs over the engraved surface. he knew what he saw glinting around your neck wasn't just his imagination. "my locket. you found it."

you eye him silently, for a moment. then, you push away from his chest. you sit up, curling your tail around yourself. aki props up along with you, and you begin to reach back, searching for the clasp on the necklace. you sign one-handed, by pointing to your forehead, then to him. for you. you hold out the necklace, aki's palm outstretched to take it.

for you. his heart skips a few beats at that, somehow.

although, first, you're carefully prying the locket open. you place it into his palm, facing him. your fingertip points to the small picture on the inside. a black and white photo, torn and faded, of a young smiling boy with short, black hair.

you point towards aki next, brows raised. you?

"oh, no," aki shakes his head. he closes the locket, and he puts the necklace into his back pocket.

brother, he signs with both hands. he takes a steady, shuddering breath. then, he glances away for a second. his next sign is done much slower. almost as if every word is formed in earnest. thank you.

you hesitate. a part of you wants to tell him you're welcome, another part of you is set on just staring at his pretty face until he notices. in the end, as aki's dumb, soft smile makes your heart race faster, your lips are left to purse into a pout.

you, you're pointing. foolish, you gesture hastily, almost angrily, with your thumb and your pinkie finger. your temple is knotted, droplets of water shimmer over your skin. then, you sign something he doesn't recognize. some form of movement that certainly carries a hint of disdain, pointing to him first, before two of your fingers press to your palm.

you demonstrate the sign again when he has no response, no reaction besides a small smirk — moving faster, hastier this time. he only shrugs. you breathe a frustrated exhale, and decide to spell the word instead. recalling what you've read from dropped books and drifting bottles, you picture the letters, and you let your hand carefully sign each one.

h- u- m- a- n.

aki shakes his head. he points to himself, he signs instead: a- k- i.

aki. you've never heard such a thing before. his name, perhaps? in that case, you don't think you'll be able to forget it.

"my name is aki," he murmurs. the breeze from the sea rustles his dark hair. it brushes over your cool skin, and you blame your resounding shiver on that, instead of his voice. finally, he points to you, this time. "and you?"

[vickyvicarious]

Good observation that Dracula's great grimness at informing Jonathan that they must part soon changing to his usual smoothness when Jonathan refuses to return to his room as dictated. Or gives Dracula the pleasure to go "before we part and before you become one of us let's play one more time, lets see you walk back into my arms from danger once more, for good this time". Maybe he even expected this small rebellion from Jonathan, knowing him. Especially after he dared scale his walls. It's more satisfying to "earn" Jonathan's submission. An unbreakable will bending to his is sweeter.

I think Dracula absolutely loves Jonathan's stubbornness... but only with the caveat that he is in control of the situation and can prey upon it. This response is extremely belated, but I kind of like answering it now because I think Dracula's treatment of Renfield so far, as opposed to Jonathan, is so revealing. He's ignoring Renfield completely. He has no interest in him at all. Because Renfield wants to be with Dracula. And Dracula doesn't care to spend his time with people who want to be around him; he's only interested in forcing his company upon those who don't want it. It's a huge part of the fun for him.

If someone like... Seward, for example, had been sent to Castle Dracula, he wouldn't have lasted anywhere near as long. Because I think he would be too enticed/interested in the vampires, and thus he'd bore Dracula a lot faster by being too willing or even eager to play along. Then again, someone who refused to play along at all would get boring very quickly too - if they don't submit and play his game he'll force them into submission with violence and that'll be the end of it. Jonathan managed to thread the needle perfectly with playing along on the surface while still constantly trying to resist behind the scenes. It was interesting and fun, a challenge that never made Dracula feel truly threatened. (Of course, he didn't realize the full extent of Jonathan's resistance/that he did have cause to be threatened...)

And he loved it! He was having so much fun! He got to genuinely enjoy Jonathan's company, but also enjoy how little Jonathan enjoyed his company and how he couldn't do anything about that. He got to keep pushing and pushing and pushing him and watch Jonathan almost break again and again but still just keep bending. To tempt him into disobeying and then punish him for it. To force him to rely on Dracula himself for protection and thus stick even closer the more endangered he gets. He gets to work for it, while at the same time never actually facing real risk other than losing his new toy (and Jonathan always settled down in the end, always let the game continue). ...And then he had to call it quits, because he had a schedule to keep. Yeah, I think he was genuinely kind of upset about that. And so when he got the idea for the wolves, he cheered way up again.

Because Dracula was able to offer Jonathan exactly what he claimed he wanted, but in such a way that they both knew he would never accept it. Instead, he forced Jonathan into a situation where he was forced to "choose" Dracula instead, one last time and more definitively than ever before. It was the perfect way to end their time together. Well, except one final victory - 'rewarding' Jonathan's choice by honoring it with one last night together, with delaying no longer and finally drinking from him.

Contrast all of that to Dracula's complete disinterest in Renfield, despite his avowed goal of conquering England and spreading vampirism here. You'd think a servant who willingly came to him would be helpful for that. But no, because Renfield came to him truly willingly, wanted to enter freely and of his own accord.

Dracula likes the kind of person who enters freely and of their own accord... because they're alone in the wilderness with wolves at their back. He likes those who stay because doing otherwise would be their certain death. He likes those who don't want this (who struggle and struggle, who have an unbreakable will) and yet are forced by him into accepting anyway.

An unbreakable will who bends at his command - that's how Dracula saw Jonathan, and he loved him for it. Right up until the point he decided he was finished, and acted to break him once and for all anyway.

[fandoms-and-salt]

My thoughts on Hazbin Hotel's villains, because I think they have a problem

Valentino

Val is just. where do i even start.

His introductory scene is largely comedic and makes his freak-out over Angel just living somewhere else the butt of the joke. The same scene conveys that he is already losing control over Angel and can’t do anything about it, since Angel is ignoring his calls, and Vox convinces him that ignoring this blatant misstep is the better option. This is an okay scene (i even found it funny), but it’s a bad villain introduction. Especially a villain that we are meant to take seriously and, from the perspective of the main characters, fear.

(There’s also an inconsistency with Angel in ep1-2 feeling free to ignore Val’s calls and messages, but in ep4 he is stumbling all over himself to please Val)

His introduction had to be made from the point of view of one of his victims to set up a proper tone of menace to him, instead of making it from the point of view of his fellow overlords, who view him as a whiny dumb piss baby. This scene would be okay a lot later down the line, in my opinion, when we are already familiar with what a despicable dangerous asshole he is, and the characters (Angel Dust) begin to step up to him more. We see his facade crumble alongside the main characters to reveal who he truly is without all his power and control - a whiny sex-obsessed loser.

There's also an issue of us not really getting a scale of his power. This guy is portrayed as an extremely forward hot-tempered dumbass, who has to be verbally guided to make a better strategic move than a “just kill and rape everybody”. He freaking licks the princess of Hell, talks down to her like she is one of his porn actresses, and physically assaults a person under her care right in front of her, and she is supposed to be someone more powerful than him, and he should know that.

This guy can’t manipulate and strategize for his life, so to compensate for this (and make his rise to power more believable), he needs to have some truly impressive physical power. And tearing apart some character offscreen and wielding some guns doesn’t cut, bc basically everyone can do that in hell, what makes him special? Show off how his vaping powers can really fuck people up, poison dozens, hypnotize them, make them addicted to him! Make him so uniquely dangerous that he doesn’t even need to be smart and cordial to rise to power!! Otherwise, how the hell we should believe that he owns the whole porn industry of the Pride Ring, including legally owning his workers, if the show puts more focus on his stupidity and lack of tact than on whatever power he has?

Like he is meant to be our main antagonist and threat, alongside with his TV boyfriend, until the angels come back in the finale, don’t just waste them away on lame jokes.

Speaking of which.

Vox

I like Vox. I like his voice actor’s performance and the voice effects and filters that they give him to reflect his mood. I feel like he had a better introduction than Val (which is not a high bar to clear): it showed that he is pretty smart, strategic, and image-conscious. With this and his heavily implied power to hypnotize and stalk people through his tech, the fact that he is in power and the threat that he poses are much more believable.

Anyway, this gets completely wasted 10 minutes into the first episode he appears in, when he gets verbally floored by Alastor. And he cried about it right after. And later in the same episode we see him fail again at another one of his schemes, bc he chose the most incompetent spy ever. Once again, silly comedy shatters any kind of illusion of threat that the villains might pose. Which also leads me to..

Alastor

Who is not really a villain, and this is kind of a problem. He really could have been a great threat and an antagonist, but i really don’t believe they are going to go in that direction.

Alastor is a very OP character and is the one holding power and control in basically any interaction he is in, including the villains. And since he is an ally of Hazbin Hotel, whose goals (the details of which we are not aware of) partially align with theirs, he completely fucks over any kind of tension regarding anything that might threaten the Hotel or it’s residents. Because you can just throw Alastor at it and make it go away. Because the writers just can’t have him lose.

And we don’t have any reason to believe that he would just refuse to help, because so far? He does whatever Charlie or Vaggie ask him to do. He might be a smug dick about it, but he still does that. He even agrees to film a TV commercial (twice!) despite his vocal hate of such technology. Furthermore, he has to make a deal with Vaggie so they don’t have him do something like this again (granted, this scene might hold some additional implications in the future, but so far this is all the context we got). Why can’t he just refuse to do things that he doesn’t want to do?

Which they could have fixed if they made his power more limited. Either by reducing the scale of his power so he is at most on the same level as the villains,

OR have his presence and help be limited. Make that the characters often can’t access him for help or he just. refuses to help them. He even says that he is here to have fun and watch them suffer, so wouldn’t them struggling to, idk, get rid of Sir Pentious, for example, be entertaining for him? Or balance out his help with instances where he causes conflicts and problems on purpose. Beyond just him annoying Vaggie for comedy’s sake.

And if any of this is what they are actually going for, then you need to make it a point to the audience that yes, this guy is powerful, but don’t expect him to productively help with any of the narrative threats and problems.

And lastly,

Adam and the angels

I don’t like Adam. He is annoying as hell and his jokes are drawn out and not funny at all. The logistics of him being an angel when he is Adam and when he acts like this, give me a massive headache that is related to a whole other topic i’ll need to make a separate post about.

Despite all this, Alex Brightman is doing a great job selling how utterly insufferable he is. His song is also pretty good, one of the more memorable ones in the show. And he (and the angels by extension) is also the most menacing and competent villain on the show so far. ...Do you see my predicament here?

Granted, this is not a very high bar to clear, as established with. the other ones. For example, in contrast to the pilot, we are only told about how dangerous and deadly the exterminator-angels are. “[Sinners] never managed to kill one of us [angels]” “In the latest extermination, [angels] killed the highest 18% percent of our [sinner] population” etc etc. We don’t see the angels killing anybody on screen, we barely see the aftermath of the extermination.

What we do see is the panic and helplessness with which most of the hell population treat the exterminations, including Charlie. We see Charlie struggling to convince Adam of her plan, barely able to talk back to him, which sells Adam as the more powerful in the interaction. We see Adam not showing all his cards to Charlie, like the fact they are planning to completely wipe out the whole Hell/Pride Ring, showing that he is not completely stupid despite his whole deal (well, there’s implied to be some kind of plan here, but i’ll talk about my problem with the logic in another post).

Otherwise, we don’t have anyone else to compare with him, since Charlie is the only one who interacts with angels on-screen. But all of this so far gives a suitable illusion of how dangerous and powerful the angels are. But what will happen if angels are faced with our all powerful Tumblr Sexyman Mary Sue? Will the universe let Alastor lose and then collapse in on itself? Or the other obvious option?

Anyway, in conclusion, Hazbin’s villains are not very good so far. Their main problems are the fact that the writers can't properly establish their threat and lever of power, or they undercut this with unsuitable comedy. Also, they don't know how to use their OP main character, so they won't ruin the stakes of the story.

[swagmagussupreme]

@whiterose-fans-blog White Rose in Bloom, Day 4: Dragon AU

(I, uh... got a little carried away again. I honestly wanted to do Ruby as the dragon but I just didn't. by the time i remembered i wanted to do that i already had a flow, so... c'est la vie.)

Not any content warnings I can think of. Suggestive if you find the vague, unelaborated presence of nakedness suggestive. Not edited because I wrote way too much so fuck it we're doing it live.

Words: 6388

Of all times for Ruby Rose to twist her ankle, this was probably the least opportune. 

She tumbled over like a stack of bricks, spilling a decade's worth of knowledge as her satchel burst its contents over the floor. Her journals, her charcoals, her bottled paints— even her ink pot shattered loudly, splattering black against stone. Ruby's chest seized as if her ribcage were trying to throttle it, but she held herself completely still. A loud, waking breath rattled the darkness.

“Oh, an in-trud-er,” the thing within mused, its syllables breaking like each one was its own word, a tongue unused to speaking. “Or a… gue-ssssss-t. Gue-ss-ss-sstuh.” The tongue clicked impatiently. “Gue-sst. Closssse e-nough.”

Ruby hunkered low, as low as she physically could, and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in her ankle. She held her breath.

“Be sssssssss-till thy bea-ting heaaaaaar-tuh.” The voice was closer now. Ruby could see a glimmer in the dark, a pearlescent reflection of nonexistent light. “I can heeeeeear the ter-ror in your chesssss-tuh.”

Ruby willed her heart to stop. It did not.

“Ugh, you peo-ple real-ly sssssss-peak like thi-sssssss-suh?”

The glimmer was brighter. A white-blue glow swayed in the darkness— one, then two, then three pairs of eyes making themselves known. Ruby felt them.

“I can sssss-see you, you know.”

Ruby shot up and waved her hands out, thrusting a light spell from her palms to blind the dark-dwelling beast, just long enough that—

A wire-thin beam of ice-colored light struck her palm directly. Ruby's spell vanished into impotence. 

“Casssssss-ting in my lair?” it rumbled. “How… un-couuuuuut-tuh.”

Ruby jumped at the opportunity. “Uncouth! Th-uh! With your tongue against your top teeth, passing the air between them!”

The cavern was suddenly bathed in cold light, and Ruby could finally see it. A dragon. A real, honest-to-Oum dragon. Not a drake, not a wyrm, not some other dumb lizard she'd been pointlessly tracking for weeks— a real, genuine, intelligent dragon. Pearlescent, slender-bodied, four-legged, with two major wings like giant, smooth sails and two minor wings situated closer to the posterior. Its pale scales were shaped like heater shields and shone like mother-of-pearl. Its claws were white, blue-tipped. Its tail was long and ended with a flare of its cyan crest, which ran up its spine before ending just above the major wings. Its head was long and triangular, serpentine, and menaced down at Ruby with six incredible, glacial eyes. It licked its dual rows of teeth with a forked turquoise tongue.

And now it couldn't even kill her! Ha! “Hahaha!” Ruby laughed despite herself. “Now you can't kill me! I've imparted value through knowledge! I'm protected!”

The dragon bent its huge neck down, each eye focusing on a different object that Ruby had spilled. Its throat rumbled pensively, unbothered. One of its eyes glowed, lifting Ruby's journal to with a magic the researcher had never witnessed. It flipped through pages and hummed. “A… ssssss-scribe, you are. Quite pro-liss-ic.”

“Prolific?”

Five of its eyes locked onto her at once, its other eye still reading through her recordings. “You are bol-duh.” It waved a claw to a wall, indicating a crumpled old skeleton in timeworn clothes from a whole other period. “He was, too.”

“But I am protected!” Ruby claimed, confidently puffing her chest and raising her chin.

The dragon snorted. “As a part of my hoard, yes,” the head bent even closer, now focusing on Ruby with all six eyes. “Or did you not know?”

Ruby reached out and touched its smooth, cool snout. It smelled like a blizzard. It was real, it was here, her life's work— she could touch it! Ruby smiled. “That's perfect,” she said truthfully. “It's perfect! I came to study you anyways!”

The dragon reeled. “What?”

Ruby smirked at it. “Don't be coy, you saw my research. I've been looking for you my whole life! A dragon! God!”

Its eyes flickered curiously. Five picked up her other books and rapidly flicked through, leaving one icy eye to keep locked onto her. “You are sssss-some… sssss-ser-pent ssss-cho-lar?”

The serpent scholar nodded fervently. “Yes! And you are my dream come true!”

The dragon’s body pitched back onto its haunches, then it laid down flat on its stomach. It kept one eye on her, gradually getting more to lock onto the human as it finished reading her works. “I own you now, you real-li-zzzzzzz-zuh. 

Ruby extended a hand towards it. “Then introductions are in order! I'm—”

“Rrrrru-by Roooooo-suh,” the dragon interrupted. “I did just read your book-ssssssuh.”

Unperturbed, the scholar kept her hand out. “And yourself?”

The dragon's craw twitched, a hum arising— a display of amusement, Ruby decided, which she would take note of when she had a chance. “I am the ssssss-soul of the win-ter. I am the crack of the fro-zen lake ‘neath your feet. I am the drift of sssss-snow upon sssss-snow. I am the ruin of your crop, the frosssss-st upon your ssssss-skin, the fin-al bursssss-st of flame be-fore you die in. The. Cold.”

Ruby blinked. “Is… that a name?”

The dragon huffed. “Your feeble tongue cannot grassssss-sp my title.”

“Oh. Could I hear it anyways?”

The dragon stared at her for a long time, its freezing eyes impaling her, but Ruby did not buckle. She seemed perfectly content. “You are mine, now,” the dragon mused. “Ssssso, you will need the ca-pa-ci-ty to… un-der-sssssss-stand.”

Ruby cocked her head. “Uh, do I? You're not just going to stare at me all day? I'm pretty.”

A rough chuckle shook the walls of the dragon’s grand, cavernous lair. “You are my sssssss-scribe, now. You will pen my glo-ry, and I will ssssss-suf-fer thissssss aw-ful ton-gue no more.” One huge hand slowly moved towards Ruby. “Ssssss-stay sssssss-still.”

Ruby held herself rigid, calcifying her resolve with the knowledge that this creature was compelled not to kill her. The claws reached her face, went down, and traced the skin of her throat. They were sharper than something so large should be, opening more than one shallow nick that had Ruby hissing, but true panic set in when they pinched around her trachea. With barely a twitch, with a sneeze, this dragon could sever her windpipe. 

The claws pinched up and down, feeling the area until they stopped at her larynx. “There it isssssss-suh.”

A piercing chill lanced through Ruby’s throat, freezing her insides, the frost traveling down her spine, then back up her tailbone and up to her brain, wracking her with the worst brain-freeze she had ever experienced. She couldn't stop herself from rocking back, whining. “Ow! You—”

Ruby stiffened, her hands stilling on her temples, her pain fading into glorious epiphany.

“You! You, you, you!” she cheered, feeling her tongue and her mouth and her teeth, rejoicing as her throat dipped and bobbed in ways it never had. She wasn't speaking the language she'd been born with, but it felt like she'd been speaking this way her whole life— with clicks of her tongue and her teeth, with hisses and groans, with throaty enunciations that rumbled her bones— dragon-tongue! She was speaking dragon-tongue!

“How have you done this!” she asked stupidly. “Magic, obviously, but none I've ever seen! None I've ever even read, and I'm pretty well-read for a scribe of snakes and drakes!”

The dragon’s six eyes became smug crescents. “I’m three thousand years old, Ruby. What the stones have forgotten, I remember.”

Ruby snorted. “Well, stones can be older than that.”

“Sure, but they have terrible memories.”

“Was that a joke?”

The dragon hummed, which was a sound that Ruby now heard in tones she'd never heard before, extracting more meaning from the simple vocalization. Amusement, obviously, but also… pleasure. Satisfaction— no, relief. Almost a… a wholeness. A bitter memory of the solemn, silent dark. How could a single sound communicate such a myriad? 

She had so much to learn.

--

The dragon's name was Weiss. It had been stubborn in providing that much for a fair few hours before Ruby had whittled down its resolve— it said she wouldn't comprehend its name, that her brain was too molded to human-speak to form the syllables, but she proved it embarrassingly wrong when she laughed, repeating it with ease in either language. 

Weiss had been keeping her in the cavernous chamber with the rest of its hoard. The room was a giant sanctum of towering walls, each one carved with deep trenches and brimming with tomes, scrolls, and loose parchment. The walls were taller than Ruby could ever hope to reach— she'd exhaust herself trying to climb them— unless Weiss opted to give her a ride. The dragon hadn't reacted too keenly to that notion.

The dragon was polite enough to leave motes of light hanging along the walls and ceiling, leaving lit the modest pile of standard dragon-treasure at the room’s far end. Silver and platinum in coins, bars, goblets, and most other forms of such riches. It wasn't the towering pile of gold that Ruby had read and seen depicted in legends, but it was just large enough to be stacked taller than she was. Ruby looked around.

“Weiss!” she called, her voice echoing across the sanctum’s clawed stone walls. “Weiss, come here! I need something!”

“You do not need to yell,” Weiss responded, its voice somewhere deep in the lair. “What could you possibly need?”

“For you to come here!” Ruby demanded, stomping her foot.

“You are my thing, Roseling. Make no demands of me.”

“I am demanding you to get over here whether you like it or not!”

There was a palpable pause. Weiss’ slender head rounded into the sanctum shortly thereafter. The dragon stared, its six eyes gleaming under the magical lights. It said nothing.

Ruby marched to it sternly and turned up her nose. As much as she could, at least, which had very little effect because she had to crane her neck up at Weiss anyways. “I'm a human, Weiss,” she claimed. “I have needs.”

Weiss blinked two of its eyes and let out a suffersome sigh. “You have food.”

“No, I don't.”

Weiss pointed to the back of the room, towards the hoard of precious metal. “Yes, you do.”

Ruby followed its claw, then turned back to Weiss, stupefied. “I— wha— you eat silver?”

“Silver is food, yes,” the dragon replied obviously. “What, your first feeding? Mortals…”

“I can't eat silver!”

Weiss reeled genuinely. “You… yes you can,” it claimed. “Who doesn't?”

Ruby raised her arms in a broad gesture. “Everyone! Nobody eats metal! We eat things like meat and vegetables! Dragons actually  eat their hoard?”

Weiss blinked again, this time with the four eyes it hadn't blinked before. “What? I cannot eat knowledge.”

“The coins aren't part of your hoard?”

Weiss shook its head. “Why would they be? Your petty human riches mean nothing to me. True wealth is knowing.”

Ruby gave the dragon an impressed frown, and added that to the list of things she needed to take note of. “I can agree with that. Why’re the riches in here, then?”

Weiss shook her head like a wet-but-lazy dog, which Ruby understood as something shrug-adjacent. “I like to have a snack while I read.”

A smile shot over Ruby’s lips. “Oh, me too! Can't feed the brain without feeding the body!”

The dragon nodded at her sage wisdom, but seemed to catch itself halfway through agreeing with a mortal. “Hmph. Well, how can we get you food?”

“You can't just…” Ruby wiggled her hands in the air. “Magick some up?”

The dragon rolled all six of its eyes, which was apparently a universal gesture. “No, Roseling. I cannot just ‘magick up’ something nutritious from nothing, unless you would find meat-shaped rocks palatable.” It let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Oh well, I suppose you'll starve, then.”

 Weiss started to turn, but Ruby sprinted to grab at its swaying tail on the way out, hoping to stop the dragon. That didn't work, and only ended with Ruby flailing around on the end of that long, articulate limb, screaming herself senseless while Weiss dutifully ignored her.

“Weiss!” she cried. “Weiss, feed me! Please! You're compelled not to kill me, I'll die if I don't eat!”

“Not killing you and letting you die are two very different things, Roseling.”

“Stop calling me that! Also, feed me!”

“No.”

“Please!”

The dragon stopped, nearly throwing Ruby from its tail as its momentum was arrested. Its long neck craned around, showing a hungry grin as it brought its head to Ruby. “What was that?”

The scholar gulped. “Feed me.”

The dragon stared expectantly, its incandescent eyes wide.

“Please.”

Weiss’ lips rose smugly, its tongue lashing the backs of its teeth like it was about to verbally flay and/or devour Ruby Rose, but it set the scholar down without doing either. “Good,” it rumbled. “You're humbled, as you should be. For your humility, I will hear out whatever proposal you have for getting you fed, however stupid it will be. You appreciate my magnanimity, I'm sure.”

Ruby scowled. “I can't hunt.”

“Surely not.”

“Does anything grow here?”

The dragon shifted its jaw in thought. “Mushrooms and lichen, sometimes— if I haven't scoured it in a long while. The books would moulder if not for the stasis enchantment I placed on that room.”

“Stasis?”

“Anti-decay. Perpetuation,” Weiss explained casually, as if it weren't making Ruby's mind explode. “That sort of thing.”

“You can stop things from rotting?” Ruby asked excitedly. “That's incredible! Weiss, that kind of magic could change the world, that could save villages, cities, nations!”

Weiss shook its head dismissively again. “Of course it could. I made it, after all.”

“You crafted the spell?” Ruby squeaked. “That's— that's incredible! You're incredible! Weiss, that is insane!”

The dragon bared its teeth in smug amusement. “I am incredible. You can finally see that.”

“I— I've been seeing that this whole time! You're a dragon!”

Weiss chortled. “Are you not hungry anymore?”

Ruby froze. “I— of course I am! Take me to town! Please.”

The dragon leaned closer and took a deep breath, sucking enough air into its nostrils to pull at Ruby's robes. “To town? You want me to take you to town?” The dragon let out an avalanche of laughter. “Sure, Roseling. I will fly you there on my back. We’ll be greeted with open arms, certainly.”

“Obviously not,” Ruby complained with a snort, as if she were in on the dragon’s joke and about to add to it. “Just teleport us there and turn into a human.”

Weiss laughed again, uproariously, loud enough to shake the walls and make Ruby cover her ears. “Aha! Hahaha! You, my Roseling, are the third funniest thing in my entire hoard.”

Ruby blushed at being addressed like that, for some indiscernible reason. “Third?”

“Behind the last good human joke-book and the personal diary of Salem Luminarius.”

Ruby laughed. “What would be so funny about a lich’s diary?”

“Her glyphwork. Her runes are scrawled like a blind child did them, they're hilariously awful. They'd barely hold a charge of anything— that's why her phylactery died a couple centuries ago. It just leaked her entire soul into the aether!” Weiss giggled in a way unbecoming of itself. “Embarrassing!”

Weiss was actually taken fully by that wave of mirth, closing all of its eyes tight as it laughed and laughed. When they opened again, they found Ruby, sickly pale and looking very close to vomiting. 

Ruby’s pink lips flapped. “You… you actually… you have her phylactery?”

Weiss nodded. “And her journal.”

“You… how…”

Weiss opened its mouth.

“N-no!’ Ruby denied, deflating with a look of distant horror. “No. I don't want to know. Just teleport us to town.”

“That is not funny the second time.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me,” the dragon stated. “If you are insistent on telling jokes, refer to my joke-book first. It is the funniest thing your people will ever produce.”

Ruby, surprising herself, was not at all shocked to hear the joke-book was apparently real, too. “I'm not joking. Weiss, you can teleport, right?”

Weiss threw its head aside petulantly. “I certainly could, if it were possible. I am too large for a teleportation circle.”

Ruby blinked hard, reeling, her head shaking with confusion. “T— teleportation circle?” She barked a laugh. “What is this, the Age of Fae? Nobody uses a circle anymore. Do you really not—”

Weiss suddenly threw its head forwards, flinging Ruby back to the ground with a huff. “Have respect for your owner, Roseling. Of course I know what you're talking about, I just… am cursed not to travel that way.”

Ankle still smarting, Ruby winced and got back to her feet. “Curses can't bind you like that.”

The dragon huffed. “This one does.”

“I can show you, you know.”

Weiss’ whole, massive head snapped towards Ruby like a cracking whip, displacing enough air to blow her charcoal robes back. “You will.”

Ruby felt her chest heave towards the dragon, her thoughts lurching in tandem, her whole being desperate to follow Weiss’ compulsion. With tangible effort and a burning pain in her chest, Ruby bit down on that feeling. “Not unless you promise to come with,” she defied through gritted teeth. “In human form.”

“I don't have a human form,” Weiss hissed.

Ruby seethed, resisting herself. “Then figure it out!”

Weiss growled. It snarled, and it was an awful sound, one that awoke goose-pimples along Ruby’s skin and had her shivering instinctively, but she held her ground. Weiss kept snarling, closing the distance, opening her maw to break the unruly scholar with fear. 

Ruby remained resolute.

Weiss, physically unable to kill the human, huffed. “Fine. I don't care. Show me the magic.”

Ruby's silver eyes glimmered with resolve. “Change first, that way I can trust you.”

Surprising Ruby, the massive dragon flinched before her. “You… do not trust me?”

It sounded genuinely hurt, which made Ruby cock her head. “No? Why would I? I don't know you that well. You're an incredible thing, yes, but humans don't really trust like that.”

Weiss flinched again. “I am not a thing. I am a dragon. We do not have such… human predilections towards trickery.”

“And what about the thing about teleportation, huh?” Ruby probed. “You lied about your ability, you have no idea how to do it.”

The dragon squirmed. “I… did not lie, I… I was confident in… in…” A word bubbled in its throat, an ugly one, one which looked like it physically hurt on the way out. “My ignorance.”

Ruby watched the dragon slump with defeat. Her own heart fell, and she was pretty sure that was on her own accord, not some emotional compulsion for sympathy. She limped to the dragon and laid a hand on its heel. The scales were cool to the touch. “Uh… sorry, Weiss. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I am a dragon! A petty human like you could never hurt my feelings!” Weiss whined, its pitch and wavering tone displaying obvious hurt, self-pity, and shame. “Be silent!”

“I didn't—”

“Silence!”

Ruby went silent. She kept her hand on the dragon. It was either too big to feel her or it didn't care.

When Weiss spoke up again, its voice was hoarse with defeat. “I… give me a moment. And stay still, Roseling. I need an impression of your form if I'm to construct my own.”

Ruby remained silent, and did not move. She kept her hand where it was until the dragon moved, turning wholly around to lie back down in front of her. Weiss’ head bent low, all six eyes affixed to her scholar.

“I… own you, human,” it said unsurely, as if trying to convince itself rather than Ruby. The scholar bowed politely, pitying the dragon.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Don't speak.”

“Of course.”

Weiss growled.

Ruby giggled. “Sorry, sorry. I’ll be quiet.”

The dragon harrumphed, and waited for its scholar’s giggles to properly subside before it moved. It dragged its great front claws towards her, both hands cupping into a halo around Ruby’s body. All six eyes glowed blue, flashed white, then closed. A warbling blueness overcame the scholar. Her body rang like a tuning fork.

“An impressive lineage, Roseling,” the dragon mused lowly, its eyes still closed. “Yet your own aptitude is… middling, at best.”

Ruby shifted, laughing awkwardly. “Uh… y-yeah, uh…”

“Be silent.”

Ruby buttoned her lips. 

The dragon’s lids twitched, and Ruby’s chest became a void. “Oh. I see.”

The claws separated, freeing Ruby from their encirclement. Weiss’ eyes opened, glaring down at the human, spears of gleaming ice that hooked into her ribs.

“And when exactly did you plan on telling me that you had that… thing in your chest?”

Weiss’ words were slow and careful, but edged to the point of danger. Ruby winced. 

“Did you think you could sneak into my lair and snip a piece from my claw? Did you hope to make a wish on it? Did you think you could siphon my blood without me noticing, that you could concoct some cure?”

“No!” Ruby answered frantically, splaying her hands out wide. “I never believed any of that stuff, I just…”

Ruby's arms sagged to her sides. Weiss watched, waited, its six eyes unblinking.

“I've always loved dragons. I've heard so much— everyone said they were extinct— but I knew I could find one. You. All the signs were there, but nobody knew to look for them, nobody could remember your… intelligence. All the legends were just ‘big, scary lizard, breathes fire, eats people—’”

“Eugh, as if I’d eat one of you—”

“But I knew!” Ruby declared, suddenly loud, thumping her chest and wincing every time. Her mouth stayed open for something louder, something definitive, but it died in her throat, and it's weight dragged her down with it. “Nobody really believed me. Nobody cared about my study. I've got…” she laughed mirthlessly, cruelly. “I've got two books just on… geckos. It's useless. It's embarrassing.”

Weiss opened its mouth, but Ruby raised her hand to interrupt. Surprisingly, it obliged.

“But I knew. I just wanted to see if I was right, before I…” Ruby rolled her shoulders uncomfortably, then scratched at her chest. “I don't have much time left. I can feel it.”

Weiss rumbled low. Doleful. Angry. Possessive. “Show me the construct.”

Ruby flushed red and backed away in a panic, hands clutching her robes tightly over her chest. “I— I can't do that! That's—”

The dragon huffed. “Show me before I compel you to show me.”

Ruby stuck up her chin, defiant. “I resisted it once.”

“You will not manage again.”

The scholar stared those six eyes down, summoning all her human courage to stand tall against the beast. She willed herself to resist. She willed herself to be strong.

Weiss gave her a slow, unimpressed blink, and compelled her scholar.

Ruby undid the pins of her robes and folded open the front, scowling as she bent obediently to the dragon's will. Her blush traveled down her collar, splotching red over her neck, then visibly over her chest as she exposed the construct.

Ruby Rose's heart was in a tube of brass. Ruby Rose’s heart was a golem core, a multicolored gemstone buzzing and whirring with silvery wisps of arcane energy. Ruby Rose's heart was covered in cracks. 

Crimson energy seeped from every rift in the core, brightly illuminating each split in the gemstone. Ruby turned away, unable to cover herself again. Weiss craned closer.

“Blood of Oum,” the dragon cursed, it's eyes fixed solely on the construct. “You made this?”

Ruby grit her teeth. “We're not as predisposed to trickery as you think.”

“Evidently. And how much of your heart remained by the time you finished the work?”

The scholar grimaced so hard she feared her cheeks would rip. “Half.”

Weiss stared for a moment longer before dropping the compulsion. Ruby immediately pinned her robes back in place, her face the color of her namesake. “On your deathbed— no, halfway in your grave.”

“Stop talking about it.”

“Stop talking about it?” the dragon parroted, aghast. “How could I ever! Ruby, you are a font! You are a singular talent! This thing you've done— and with the noose of the heavens already around your neck— it is incomparable! I would trade you for half— more than half of my hoard! And now—”

“I'm already in your hoard, Weiss.”

The dragon jolted back and shook its head, blinking hard. Its eyes narrowed. Its nostrils twitched. 

Ruby watched as Weiss brought its claws up again, blue-white energy snapping between each one for only a moment before they clapped together, creating a blinding, deafening flash that sent the scholar to the floor. She belatedly threw a hand over her face and scrubbed at her eyes, blinking the colorful spots from her sight. Her ears rang.

Ruby’s vision cleared after a moment. Weiss was before her. A human, skinny and short, with skin the same shining, pearly whiteness as the waist-length hair. Weiss’ eyes were still blue on black sclera, now with two major eyes and two pairs of tiny ones clustered at the outside corners of their larger twins. She was also naked. She was also a ‘she’.

Ruby, coming from such an emotional lowpoint to this, floundered. “You're a girl!”

Weiss looked down at herself, her slender hands feeling up her own sides. “I thought I was a human.”

“A female human!” Ruby shrieked, hiding her eyes behind her hands, then spreading her finger so she could look anyways. “A girl!”

“Is that what this is?” Weiss started feeling at her own face, pulling her ears, tweaking her nose, tugging her lips. “Why are you humans so… flappy.”

“You have six eyes!”

Weiss blinked at her obviously.

“Still!”

“Of course I do,” she stated, her human voice high and pitchy— noble, some would probably say. “These aren't natural, you know. I added them, and they're not as malleable as the rest of me.”

“But— but you're a girl!”

The human that was now Weiss pointed accusingly at her scholar. “Don't act so perturbed, I got it from you!” In a very human gesture, she crossed her arms and turned away, chin held imperiously high. “And I happen to like it.”

“Well, you need clothes!” Ruby whined. “Cover yourself, it's rude!”

“Why would I cover this?” Weiss asked, gesturing over herself confidently. “I am a perfect specimen of humanity. Your people will be delighted to see me.”

Ruby, unfortunately, agreed with that notion. That people would like to see her, that is. Creepy people. Not Ruby. She did not like seeing Weiss, which was why she had her hand over her face. She was only peeping through her fingers to make sure nothing was wrong. “Some will, then they'll throw you out for indecency! Or arrest you! Then execute you!”

Weiss snorted. “I'd like to see them try.”

“Just put on some damn clothes! Please!”

The now-human dragon waved her off. “Fine, fine,” she muttered, her hands flashing together again, much less blindingly this time. “Better?”

Ruby observed the human Weiss before her, taking in the outfit. She wore almost an exact copy of Ruby's robes— pinned close to the torso, but loose around the arms and waist— only her collar was pinned scandalously open, exposing the milky skin of her neckline and the shading of her pronounced collarbone. In addition, the whole thing seemed to be made of silk rather than Ruby's linen, which baffled the scholar. “Where'd you get that?”

“I made it,” Weiss answered casually. “Vellum and parchment transmute easily to silk. From there I just made what you have, only better.”

Ruby sniffed at ‘better’, but said nothing to oppose it. “Well… it’s good. Cover your chest, though.”

Weiss puffed her chest out in petulant riposte, which made Ruby turn away. “I will not, what I have is plenty.” She approached the scholar aggressively, stomping hard with her shoulders set in a way that didn’t match the easy expression on her face— consequences of going from dragon to human, Ruby supposed. “Now show me your teleportation.”

--

Showing Weiss the trick to teleportation without a circle mostly consisted of Ruby explaining, then having the experience of watching Weiss’ face cascade into a series of ‘it was so obvious, how did you idiots find that out’ expressions. It was very fun to watch until Ruby realized she was openly staring at Weiss’ face.

Thankfully, the dragon in human skin hadn’t noticed (or hadn’t cared), and teleported them both before Ruby even finished her explanation, dropping the both of them in the central square of the closest city: Vale.

Bustling crowds stopped, looked at them for half a second, then went about their day.

“W-Weiss!” Ruby panicked, grabbing the other girl and hiding her face with her robe’s sleeve. “Hide your eyes, people will freak out!”

Weiss smirked up at her. “Oh please,” she said in Ruby’s mother-tongue. “My magical eyes wouldn’t be nearly as strange as you openly speaking Draconic.” She frowned at herself. “Ugh, Dra-co-nic? That’s really what you people call it? So unimaginative.”

Ruby had to consciously search for her own language, speaking like a dragon just felt so natural now, as if she’d been speaking it for years. “Shut up,” she managed, emboldened by the fact Weiss was no longer several storeys taller than her. “People will notice.”

Weiss pushed the scholar’s arm down and motioned to the people around them, none of whom even turned. “Nobody cares, Ruby. And if they do, what I have isn’t any stranger than what you have.”

That was delivered with a bitterness that made Ruby recoil— not directed at her, but somewhere close enough that it still hurt. Nonetheless, she protested, “Well I don’t go around flaunting my chest, unlike some people!”

“Nobody is looking! Nobody cares!” Weiss darted to the nearest stall— a fruit stand— and leaned over the display to jeer at the man inside. “Hello! Hello, human! Look at my chest! My flesh is bared in this specific region! ARE YOU TANTALIZED?” 

Ruby yanked her away by the collar of her robes, dragging her fully out of the square while Weiss held a smug, satisfied grin. Ruby, on the other hand, was burning crimson. “Weiss! Act normal! I’m human, I’ve been living as one my whole life, so please have some tact and listen!”

Weiss opened her mouth, but clapped it shut at the authority the scholar wielded through her raised brows. When it was clear she would defer to her, Ruby sighed in relief.

“Thank you. Now, all we have to do is grab some food and some other essentials you can’t transmute— I would assume you can turn the trees surrounding your lair into wooden furniture, right?”

Weiss cocked her head. Ruby pointed to a nearby bench.

“Furniture. Chairs, beds, things like that. For my accommodations.”

“Accommodations? Who said I was accommodating you? You’re my property.”

Ruby rolled her lambent grey eyes. “Because you’re nice and a magnanimous master of your hoard,” she said, deadpan and blatantly sarcastic. “And because I’m dying. Let my last slumber be on a bed.”

Weiss’ whole body went rigid, her eyes locking to Ruby’s. She visibly bit the insides of her cheeks. “Right,” she mumbled through her teeth. “We will get you some food.”

The scholar nodded. With a plan made, Weiss reluctantly followed Ruby along the disorganized streets of Vale, scowling with disgust but nonetheless paying rapt attention whenever they passed someone in the middle of a human bodily function. At one point, Weiss had the opportunity to witness a back-alley robbery, but Ruby stopped her by wrapping their hands together to keep pulling her along.

Weiss stared at the hand in hers, and was shocked by how warm it was. It made her realize how cold she was. She could feel her own temperature wherever Ruby touched. The red-hot fingers were like a light in the dark, shone directly into the eyes of someone who’d never seen light before, blinding, but impossible to turn away from. Without scales, she could feel them in a way she’d never felt anything before— softly. Skin-on-skin, hot against cold. Curious, Weiss clasped her own fingers around Ruby’s, squeezing them tightly. There was a little give before she could feel the bone structure. The flesh was warm. The palms were soft in some places, rough in others, which Weiss felt at by rubbing her thumb between their interlocked hands.

Ruby stopped after a while. Weiss noted the rush of red beneath her face. The scholar slipped her hand out of Weiss’ with a conflicted look that was unrecognizable. She had found a cart with an oven on it, and spoke to the fellow manning it. When she turned back to Weiss and spoke, the once-dragon jumped.

“S-sorry, what?” Weiss said, shaking her head hard at her own apology. “I mean, what do you want?”

That strange look passed over Ruby’s face again, this time with an edge of something that Weiss assumed to be guilt. “I, uh, don’t have money,” the scholar admitted.

Weiss raised her hands uncomprehendingly. “Okay?”

Ruby led her with a nod of her head. “You don’t have any?”

“Did you see me conjure any with this robe?” Weiss mocked, wiggling her large, drooping sleeve. “No? Well, there’s your answer. Dolt.”

Ruby’s voice became hot and hushed. “I already ordered, we have to pay somehow!”

“We? The food is yours! It’s your responsibility!”

“And I’m your property, so the real responsibility lies on you!”

Weiss growled. “I. Don’t. Have. Any!”

“Summon some!”

“That’s not how anything works!”

“Figure something—”

“Pies’re done!” the oven-cart man announced, pulling a pair of steaming round things out of the mobile furnace. “Ladies! And if ya don’t mind me askin’, what sort’a strange speak’re you two doin’?”

Weiss and Ruby looked at the man, then at each other, both equally unaware of how their languages had switched. Ruby looked into her eyes and, as seemed to be her wont of late, went red. Weiss felt her own face warm.

With a flick of one dainty wrist, Weiss beamed the food-man right between the eyes with a ice-colored ray of magic. “F-free,” she commanded, stuttering a little for some reason. “They’re free. For us. Thank you. Rubytakethem.”

Ruby, with only a brief look of horror towards the dragon who was now a human, dashed over to the food-man and took the pies. She yelped the moment she scooped them up, but managed to drop them onto a nearby public table before she developed burns. Ruby sighed.

“Sit down,” she told Weiss, nodding to the seat across from her.

Weiss took the seat beside her instead. Ruby gulped and focused on her own steaming food thing. “What is that?” Weiss asked, leaning close to her scholar.

Ruby stiffened again. “Meat pie. Pie crust, pie stuff,” she claimed, motioning to the bread-colored parts of the ‘meat pie’. “The meat’s inside.”

Weiss bent further down to smell Ruby’s pie, doing so in a way that got as much of her body to touch Ruby’s as possible. The girl was warm, and she was cold. “It smells nice.”

Ruby turned away and coughed, pushing her other pie to Weiss. “Eat it,” she said quickly, as if saying it slower would make her stutter.

“Huh? No. That sounds… ew.”

Ruby kept her face turned away, but glared at Weiss with one eye. “You’ll make me spend one of my last meals alone? Here I thought dragons had honor.”

Weiss instantly soured. “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”

Weiss stared down at her meat pie. After a moment of deliberation, she started shoveling chunks of it into her mouth with her hands. Ruby made a noise of horror, but she ignored the scholar. She ate. The food tasted like taste. She’d never tasted before.

She’d also never been a human before. She’d never had a reason to be one, cramming her glorious body into this form would only make her library more difficult to fully access, and she’d have to deal with being a human. She’d have human hands that burned when she shoved them into a meat pie, though it wasn’t the same kind of burn she got from Ruby’s hands. Ruby’s hands burned in a new way. Did the construct make her hotter? Or was it just Weiss?

She’d never had one human heart beating in her chest. Always four, easier to pump blood with, but this singular thing was… odd. More vulnerable. If one of her own hearts got destroyed, she still had three left; that’d give her enough time to reconstruct the fourth.

But having just one was awful. She felt small with it. She felt like someone would come up behind her and stab it, and the three thousand years of Weiss would splatter all over her meat pie. The idea made her chest tight. She ate burning food so she wouldn’t notice. It didn’t help much.

Ruby had zero hearts, and yet her body wasn’t coiled in the way Weiss’ was. Sure, she was throwing herself at the now-human in an attempt to stop her from shoving more meat pie in her face, but she didn’t have an inherent tightness. She seemed free. Loose. Like she’d done the one thing she wanted, which, Weiss realized, was probably accurate. Meeting her. She’d only wanted to catch a glimpse to die happy, and she was dying. Weiss had seen that much with her own eyes, with her own magic. Sure, she didn’t seem bad now, but such was the nature of golem cores. Ruby Rose would operate as-normal until the moment it ran out, then she would die all at once. The girl who had built a heart, outpacing her own dying one, would lose to that beating death-knell in the end. Weiss would have her books, but the world would forget Ruby’s knowledge. 

The one heart was doing something to Weiss. Something bad. It beat its tha-thump, tha-thump tempo one note at a time, which made it all the more strange when Ruby’s warmth sped it up. The one thing in her chest twisted. It wrenched. It was afraid. It was angry.

Like anything else in her hoard, Ruby was hers. Nothing would take that away. Not if Weiss could help it.

[drbased]

Reading Against Our Will has been such an... emotional? vindicating? eye-opener for me. Like, obviously, we all know logically that men rape women on a mass scale, and on tumblr I'm constantly exposed to examples of it. But outside of news stories, horrifying anecdotes and statistics, there's been a sort of... comfort gap, I suppose you could call it, in my brain. I'm not blackpilled by this book or anything, but the sheer sense of scale you get from this book, the complete lack of ambiguity that rape is violence, that it is a terror committed specifically by men against women... it's hard to put it into words but it really kind of puts the pieces all together: What this fight is, what we're fighting for, what we're up against and who we're up against.

Unfortunately, the nature of statistics means that people are inherently dehumanised into numbers. But that's why this book is so powerful - it's is dense with a real human story: anecdote after anecdote, all more or less the exact same story. the exact same type of violence. the exact same trauma. the sameness of it, it's the same same same same same story. And it's all shared by women. This is our history, this is our story, this is what unites us, this is the core feature of our oppression, this is a terror shared by women in the American civil war, in Jewish pogroms, in the average household. It is what unites us, and it is because we are women with women's bodies. After the war in Bengal, there were 25,000 pregnancies.

I know this is tired, I know it's cheap to make every single feminist point we make a jab at gender identity... but there's something so uncomfortably sobering about reading about the history of rape. But where it's sobering, it's also galvanising. If you're a radfem/rad-leaning who's on the fence about whether or not you're supporting 'the right side', I'd wholeheartedly recommend this book. It's not for the faint-hearted, although suprisingly less graphic than you would expect - specifically because these are accounts taken from real people throughout history, and people tend to shield their language when talking about rape.

That is something that she makes a point of addressing: her book sets the story straight once and for all, that rape is something that all women share as a commonality throughout history, but both men and women are curiously unwilling to talk about it - especially men. Make no mistake - this silence is as politically deliberate as the act itself. So, as feminists, we should never shut up about rape. And we should never shut up about it as an act of terror, committed specifically by men against women; by males against females. There is zero ambiguity who is targeted and why: once again, I remind you that after the war in Bengal, there were 25,000 pregnancies. To ignore the biological reality, to ignore the commonality of women, to ignore the purpose and scale of rape, is to be fundamentally anti-feminist.

[midnightsun-if]

okay another classic ask, on a scale of 1 to 10, how resistant are the ros to mc giving them puppy eyes? +does it change from pre/early relationship to deep relationship? and how resistant are they to others?

I'll go with the scale that 0 is not swayed at all and 10 is not resistant in the slightest.

Koda

Pre-Relationship: A solid 8. He has absolutely no defense structure in place for puppy eyes. He won't always be swayed by them but for the majority of the time he will be.

Relationship: When in the relationship stage? It'll be a solid and blaring 10. What little defense he did have will be completely gone at that point.

Other People: Around a 5. He's resistant, mainly because he's not close to them, but if it's a child? A solid 10 again.

Scarlett

Pre-Relationship: An absolute 0, might even go into the negatives. You'd have an easier time swaying an actual dead body before ever doing so to her.

Relationship: When it's the actual relationship stage it'll entirely depend on her mood. If she doesn't feel like humoring you, or you've potentially been a brat, then it's a 0. If it's just a normal day? You wouldn't have to use puppy eyes to begin with, she'd already give you anything you wanted.

Other People: That person better move on quickly...

Cyrus/Cyra

Pre-Relationship: Around a 4. They're fairly resistant to puppy eyes, but they might humor you every once in a while.

Relationship: It'll go up to about a 6, but they'll still be fairly resistant to them. Though they may find themself being swayed more often than not, because it's just you being you.

Other People: Around a 0-1. Completely resistant to it.

Quinn

Pre-Relationship: Around a 7. They aren't the most resistant but they do have their moments. Will more than likely cave after only a few minutes of being exposed.

Relationship: It'll stay the exact same way, Quinn will be the same amount of resistant as before, until they ultimately cave once more.

Other People: About a 4. It just depends on the person, but Quinn may be able to be swayed.

Caden

Pre-Relationship: Around a 2. They don't really pay attention to that sort of thing and had to deal with Christian doing the exact same thing when he tries to get what he wants-- they're fairly immune to the entire thing.

Relationship: It'll go up to about a 4, only for the fact that it's you doing the puppy eyes, but they're still pretty much resistant to the entire thing.

Other People: They'll completely ignore it. 0.

Sloane

Pre-Relationship: Around a 5 or 6. They like the pretend that it doesn't affect them, but they'll end up doing what you asked anyway. Even if they actually don't realize they're doing it, to begin with.

Relationship: It rises to about a 9. They become pretty much completely susceptible to the expression and will do almost anything whenever it appears.

Other People: 1. Depending on the mood you catch them in.

Blake

Pre-Relationship: Like Sloane, they like to pretend it doesn't affect them, but it absolutely does. The only difference? They're at a solid 10 already.

Relationship: Doesn't even try to hide it anymore, and will still proudly be at a solid 10 when it comes to puppy eyes.

Other People: 3. Blake is a fairly giving person already, which means people don't tend to use puppy eyes on them.

Reginald/Regina

Pre-Relationship: They can be quite dense at times, and they'd, at first, not understand what the hell you were trying to do: What are you doing with your face? Are you ill? Which means they're at the left end of the scale, probably around a 1 or 2.

Relationship: When actually in a relationship? They'll probably raise to about a 5 or 6. They still probably wouldn't recognize the look, barring certain circumstances, but when they do? They're more than likely going to fold to it.

Other People: 0. They barely noticed it with the person they're interested in. Do you really think they'll notice it with anyone else?

[myfandomprompts]

𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔

Summary: You finally depart for King's Landing. What waits for you is uncertain, except for the fact that you are completely taken with a certain Kinslayer.

Warnings: Fluff, angst. Masterlist (Part 5 - Part 7)

It was cloudy, still dark since the storm passed hours ago. Vhagar just awoke and was as hasty to leave as you were.

Only Lady Cassandra, her younger sister, your aunt and the maester were present, others too scared to approach the she-dragon or too early for them to be even up. Aemond had managed to advance your departure and a maid had come to fetch you at dawn. You learned that Lord Borros and Aemond had briefly talked, announcing his sooner leave and surely exchanging cold courtesies. The Lord had no desire to attend their outrageous departure.

You hugged your aunt, thanking her for everything, and you smiled down sweetly at the youngest Baratheon who was mesmerised by Vhagar. She was the nicest, you thought, and you shared with her your hope to see her again as she shared hers as well, waving her tiny arm to you when you walked away toward the scaled beast.

Aemond was conversing with his betrothed, taking much too long for your taste to say goodbye. You tried not to see her arm snaking up around his upper arm and his mouth kissing her hand that had been on the most intimate part of your body only hours ago, before he finally turned away from her. Walking towards you, he helped you up first on Vhagar, her height being a real challenge for you, then got up next and settled in front of you after making sure you were well strapped. He said no words as he commanded his mount to take off and you were shaken up upon the air. 

You felt troubled. The last time you had flown, it was on Arrax. Harmful feelings came back at you, unsettling. You were now on the back of the beast who took Lucerys' life, starting a civil war that you were diving directly into.

Moreover, you felt insecure. Physically. Behind Aemond you were barely holding on the wooden hooks of the saddle, and each flap of a wing made you feel like you would fall at any moment directly onto the sea. You struggled to keep still as your muscles started to become sore because of your efforts. But you shall hold on until the end.

Aemond's silence troubled you too. But you did not have the time to think about that because you felt Vhagar lose altitude and soon you were landing on a rocky cliff, Storm's End away from view. What was happening?

Aemond let go of the reins and turned to you, started to untie the straps that kept you on the saddle hastily.

"Finally, some peace. Let's stop this farce and come on the front," he said, untying the last rope above your thigh.

"What?" you said, bewildered. "You made us land so I could exchange seats with you?"

You were ignoring the fact that it was also the first word he has said to you today.

"You will be much better in front of me. Decency had me put you behind for all of those lords not to be offended, but this is ridiculously dangerous. At least once in King's Landing, no one will dare to utter a word. Now come on, get up," he said, extending his hand to you.

You only crossed your arms in defiance. You would not let him be right in implying you were not capable of enduring a rough ride, even if you had believed your end near a few times over the last minutes.

He sighed at your reaction, dropping his hand in exasperation.

"Always so stubborn, are you?" he said tauntingly. "Do not tell me you feel comfortable there, I could almost feel you cringe in anguish behind me."

You lowered your eyes in defeat, untying your arms. Yes, you would feel safer, so you took his again extended hand and got up, walking around him to reach the front.

Vhagar shifted abruptly, and you lost balance, only Aemond's shooting hand at your waist preventing you from falling. You felt your cheeks turn red at the touch and tried to hide it at once, but failed.

You settled on the front saddle, curious as to why Aemond hadn't even moved, that's when you understood that he just intended for you to take place directly against him, squeezed within the short space of the saddle. You felt your cheeks turn hot again as his arms came at your sides to grab onto the reins.

But he didn't take off. You didn't know why he chose to stop but you felt his hair tickling your shoulder and you became very aware of his closeness. His nose touched the side of your neck and you jolted at the touch.

"I'm sorry," he said.

At that, you frowned and proceeded to turn fully toward him, with difficulty you might add, because you were so close that you did not have enough space for your movements anyway.

"What are you apologising for, Aemond?" you asked, more lost than before.

He was watching you with a serious look, almost sadly.

"For everything you've been through, what I have put you through Y/N. I know how you feel when you look at me. I heard you say it, you feel the pain I brought upon you. The grief," he confessed, looking down.

Your heart softened at the confession. However you also felt anger, anger at the fact that he was torturing himself for something you didn't mean. You weren't ready to admit it fully, but you sure would make him understand that you would not allow him to see himself as a monster. Because to you, he never has been.

You grabbed his arm at your side and squeezed, urge written over your face.

"Aemond, whatever you heard me say to that man was a lie, to protect myself. I would never-" you stopped, emotions starting to take the better of you. "I would never make you feel this way, not with me. And I assure you that you have no idea how I feel when I look at you."

His eye shot up at yours, suddenly filled with interest. You haven't meant for those words to leave your mouth but anger got the better of you.

"I don't?" he asked, the ghost of a grin on his lips. You turned over, your back to him again, and sighed, muttering a response.

"No. But I'm sure you'll know one day."

This day would be the day you fully admit your feelings to yourself, but this day was not today.

"And what if I know already?" he said softly.

Your heart jumped in your chest, and you felt his hand grab your chin, turning your head on the side and he kissed you.

It was incredible. It has nothing to do with the feverish kisses from the night you spend together. This one was full of emotions, full of meaning, as if all those years you spent together, growing up together, even growing apart, was flowing through it. You only felt him, all of his guilt, his insecurities, his anger and will. But you also felt his pride, his loyalty and his affection.

You also hoped he felt it too. Felt your affection, your desire, your want of him, your tenderness for him.

The kiss lasted for a delightful eternity. You didn't want it to end, but when it did, it left you with a lightness in your heart you couldn't describe, and you didn't detach your eyes from him, too keen to look upon his features until the end of your days.

"Are you scared?" you whispered. His eye went to your lips briefly, as to make sure you talked, leaving his blissful trance.

"Scared?" he asked, confused.

"To return to King's Landing. To confront your family about... everything that happened."

He took a breath and nervously moved in his seat, his head then went to rest on your shoulder, lazily. You were beginning to think that this stop on the cliff was not only a reason for safety settings. He was reluctant to return, you felt it.

"I will be alright. What is done is done, now we must prepare for the future and hope my brother will be suited to the task," he said against your ear, but eye staring at the distance.

You nodded in silence, unsure of what to say. He deposited a kiss on your neck and proceeded to strap himself in his seat before commanding Vhagar to finally head for home.

It was much better. Holding on to one of the wooden sticks for support and Aemond's strong presence holding you from behind. The flight turned out pleasant, and you wish it had lasted longer, because soon the Kingswoods were in sight, telling you that the red city soon will appear.

Vhagar landed in the courtyard of the Dragonpit, merely too big for it already. Dragonkeepers were approaching her and Aemond lowered himself into the ground before extending his arms to help you down as well. You still felt overwhelmed by the flight and you asked yourself how Aemond managed to ever leave this sensation each time he dismounted his dragon.

Criston Cole, the Commander of the Kingsguard was the first to meet them, or rather, Aemond, as he cast you a curious side look when your feet touched the ground.

"My Prince, I am glad to see you. I was asked to tell you to meet the King and the Queen Mother as soon as you were to arrive," he said.

Aemond only let you go when he was sure you were alright and looked at the knight, nodding. You knew he dreaded it, even a little: the long due reunion with his family.

He strode after Cole, his usual menacing demeanour restored, but you didn't move, unsure of what to do. You were not really involved and you didn't really like Criston Cole, his sadly known bursts of anger made you uncomfortable. However when you saw Aemond stop in his steps and glancing aside, seeing you not following, you began to walk to him when his expecting glare reached you, like a silent command. You did not acknowledge Cole's annoyed look, but you were sure Aemond did.

The trip to the Red Keep was uneventful, the carriage silent, Criston stiff as a board on the side, Aemond, elbows on his knees and deep in thought. As for you, facing him and sharing his anxiousness, you had no choice but to stay silent. The white Knight was one of the only people Aemond would drop his hard façade in front of it seemed. You, of course, included.

When you set foot into the front yard of the Keep, you first saw the Queen, impatiently waiting for Aemond to appear, and next to her your father smiling at you. You bowed quickly to the Queen who barely acknowledged you before going to your father who embraced you tightly. You saw from your peripheral view Aemond glancing at you briefly, almost missing the nod he gave your father, before following his mother inside.

Once in your apartments, your father spoke to you in all seriousness, asking you details about Dragonstone and Rhaenyra's reaction, and you tried to remember as much detail as you could. You told him everything, from Rhaenys' arrival to your departure from Storm's End, leaving the part where you have been with Aemond.. Then he told you everything, from the death of the King to the news of Lucerys' death. You noticed that he didn't mention his talk with Aemond about your return and his allegiance.

He told you of his plan, to find a way home to the Westerlands and to withdraw in your House's seat at Deep Den, waiting to see where the war would lead and take, if presented, the opportunity to support the Black Queen. In his mind, the Greens were losing, having not enough dragons, and greater houses standing behind Rhaenyra. You knew he wanted to protect your House, to protect you, avoiding being labelled as traitors if the Greens were sure to lose, but you hated the idea. You didn't want to talk about that future, a future where Aemond would be sent to prison, or rather, put to death, labelled as a traitor. It was an unbearable thought as you tried to listen to your father.

The day passed, finding your habits again inside the court. You didn't see any members of the royal family for two days. Even your father was busy in strategic meetings when he was not locked up in his office.

The second evening, a servant came to your door as you were conversing with your father and requested that you meet Prince Aemond at dinner. There was no mistake in your father's worried feature as he sent the servant away, claiming you were not feeling well and that you could not attend. You argued furiously with him, but he didn't want to hear a word. "You cannot indulge him like this! I'm sorry darling."

You believed him sincere, but you realised that dealing with Aemond in the past had been a great sacrifice for him, and you hoped that rumours that emanated from Storm's End had not reached your father's ears yet.

Aemond was fuming when the servant gave him the news. Were you ill again? Since you came back, he didn’t have any opportunity to see you, even from afar. It annoyed him greatly, he was content in managing the coming war in counsel, eager to prove his abilities to the Kingdom, but he missed you.

Aegon chose that moment to erupt in the room, and took place beside him in front of the fire. Aemond sighed in annoyance.

"There you are brother! You left so quickly after the meeting, it was like you were chased by a demon," he said.

Aemond hummed, staring at the fire. He wasn't in the mood to talk, even if his brother surprisingly wasn't as drunk as usual, though it was already dark outside.

"I thought you liked planning the death of thousands of soldiers on the battlefield! Good work today by the way brother. The Blacks will be vanquished!" Aegon said as he raised his fist in the air.

Confronted to his brother's silence and inaction, Aegon chose a different strategy, a grin forming over his lips.

"I heard interesting rumours about you and a certain lady brother. Anything to confess of your stay in the Stormlands? Apart from the glorious death of our strong nephew, of course."

Aemond looked at him wide eyed as Aegon continued.

"I mean, I don't blame you. The Baratheon girls are not known for their beauty, and Y/N is definitely much better-looking than any other women inside of the Red Kee-"

"Careful brother, you have no idea of what you are talking about," he interrupted coldly. The last thing he wanted was to draw his brother’s attention to you.

“What's the matter? Did her father Lord Donnel scare you? He obviously doesn't regard you in high esteem, but I would have thought you more cunning." 

Aemond sighed again. Yes, her father was very protective of her it appeared, as Aemond learned that he had refused many proposals of marriage without your knowledge, and was now very keen in keeping you close. It was one of the reasons Aemond didn't ask for your hand all of these years ago, this and the fact that he did not find himself worthy of you at the time.

Now it was different, and Aemond felt that everywhere you'd go, your father would follow now.

"It's none of my concern. Lady Y/N cannot be married at this time as House Lydden cannot start to make alliances in times of war such as this. It would be too high a risk for her Lord Donnel to take, without mentioning the wrath of Casterly Rock," Aemond concluded. 

“So I am to understand that you triggered Lord Baratheon's wrath in neglecting his daughter over our delightful Y/N because you wish for her to stay unmarried?" he looked at his brother warily. "A shame. If I had been in your shoes, I would have gone for the both of them."

Aemond wanted to strangle his brother, but he stopped himself from doing so, rather finding his composure in the observation of the dancing flames before him. Aegon was disappointed.

"Well, you are no fun tonight. I will let you to... whatever you are doing and find me a girl to keep me warm."

And Aegon left, leaving Aemond’s murderous eye as he was furious at the treatment he imposed to his sister-wife. But his thoughts soon went toward you as he relaxed in his chair.

Days passed again, and you were finally allowed to see the royal twins in their apartments, under the watchful care of Helaena who was so glad to see you again. The twins had grown since you last saw them, and their eyes were full of curiosity, looking at you as if they saw you for the first time.

You spend the afternoon at Helaena's side, talking about Dragonstone volcanic terrain, the winds, the sea, the court at Storm's End and the description of the Baratheon's daughter, as Helaena was now curious about her future sister-in-law.

"You will like her, your Grace. She has a happy temperament and I heard that she likes children very much," you said, hiding your bitterness behind your smile.

"Oh but you are too! I've never seen the twins so engrossed with someone before! They like you," she stated. "But tell me, how did my brother treat her? Did he spend time with her?" she asked.

"Well, I could not tell your Grace, but I know they seemed to get along and even went flying on Vhagar at one time," you replied.

Helaena seemed content with her brother's behaviour and went back to caress Jaehaera's hair who was sitting on her lap. But her expression turned sad all of a sudden.

"I fear I will never have the chance to see her become my sister, however, as she will never make it," she said very softly as only speaking to herself.

You started to ask what she meant by that, but Aegon entered the room at the same time. You hid your surprise as it was the first time you saw him in the presence of his pretende-, of his children, you corrected yourself.

"My dear wife. I am glad to see your dazed face today as this afternoon meeting was exhausting. Mother is truly on edge," he said as he went to pour himself a glass of wine.

The twins looked at him curiously, not saying a word. Aegon said hello to them before landing his eyes on you, acknowledging your presence.

"Lady Y/N!" he smiled. "What a pleasant surprise, I do not believe we've seen each other since your arrival from the Stag's nest."

You got up and bowed politely, returning his smile. "I do not believe so, your Grace."

He glared at you with interest for a moment and went to sit next to you, Helaena busy attending to her daughter who had started crying.

"Was your stay pleasant? Did you witness my nephew feeble attempts at a futile alliance?" he asked bluntly. You felt disgusted by his words, but you held your head high.

"No, I didn't. And my stay was too short to enjoy your Grace," you replied.

He hummed at that. "Then maybe you did enjoy other things? Unacceptable things perhaps? For I know you long for them, I’ve been told."

He watched your entire body with lust in his eye before looking at yours again, waiting for your reaction.

You were lost at words. What did he mean by that? Surely...

No, Aemond was not the sort of man to sully your reputation alongside untrustworthy depraved men like Aegon, and you knew they weren't as close. So you chose to look confused.

"I'm not sure I understand your meaning, your Grace. But I assure you that apart from my aunt, nothing gave me comfort in the stag's castle. I fell ill and would not go out often, and it was rather a sad place for me."

He opened his mouth to reply but Jaehaerys' tug on Aegon's pants made him stop, demanding attention, holding a doll to his father. Aegon grimaced at the sight, unsure of what to do. You watched the action with narrowed eyes, Aegon's failure to be a father so obvious before you now. But he surprisingly took the child into his arms, even if the King was clearly uncomfortable.

Now that you saw them next to each other, you saw it, the similarity in their features. You could still see Aemond's similarities in Jaehaerys, but it was less obvious now than before, making you doubt your previous conclusions you had drawn all of those months ago about their true lineage. But you couldn't be sure yet.

A violent wave of anguish hit you like a wave at the thought and you now felt the desire to flee the room. But Aegon, after boringly watching his son play with his doll, decided that it was time for him to leave, finished his glass in one gulp and departed. You sighed in relief as you took Jaehaerys in your arms to soothe him.

Helaena was at your side once more, expression so sweet you were unsure she had even noticed Aegon’s visit.

"I hope they did not take after Aegon's character, for I know him to be cruel sometimes," she said sweetly, stroking the other twin's hair.

"I'm sure they will be alright, your Grace," you said tenderly to her.

"Maybe some of Aemond's thoughtfulness will pass onto them," she kept on, voice hopeful.

You turned fully at that, your interest at a peak as your heart beat harder in your chest.

"Do you mean... Is Aemond..." you stopped yourself in time, recovering your calm demeanour to choose your words more carefully. "Is Aemond close to the children?" you decided to ask instead.

"He takes very good care of them," she smiled softly. "Sometimes I wish he was their father for their real one is not very loving."

She had said that as a whisper, like she again talked only to herself, but you heard her, your heart lightening, all of those months of doubts leaving you all at once. You took her arm.

"I do believe that children are to grow alike those they spend time with, so you see, they will be alright,” you said, truly happier than you have been moments ago.

She looked at you pleased, before starting her quiet rant again.

"His own children will be loved, I know it. For I also know that they will be neither fully black and red nor black and gold," she mysteriously said.

You didn't understand what she said, and you weren't able to ask her the meaning of her words as the maids came in to prepare her for supper. You said her farewell and went back to your chambers, your head full of thoughts.

-0- Part 7 [2024 side note: It's funny because I have done some stats, and most of you readers stop the first read session at chapter 6 or 7. Right before it goes better! I find it amusing :)]

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 31: The Bet

Pairing: Mer Alpha 17 x Sea Dragon Reader

Summary: Alpha 17 is sent to bring the last Sea Dragon back to Mandalore.

Author’s Note: Sorry for how late this is… Life kinda happened. Anyway thank you all for this wonderful month.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Cockwarming, smut, and cursing

Word Count: 879

Prompt: Most sea dragons live in fissures, awash in molten lava. It stays liquid, somehow, bubbling to the surface and sinking again, as the surrounding ocean boils.

Prompt 2708 by deepwaterwitingprompts

Alpha was certain Prime hated him. Fordo, lucky fucking Fordo, was off rescuing a goddess, while he had to fight a dragon. A dragon he had to bring back alive. Great. Just. Fucking. Great.

Alpha lingers above the specific fissure he was sent to. While his body was more heat resistant than most Mer from his boiling abilities, it wasn’t wise to get any closer yet. He had to wait for you to come out of the lava.

Most sea dragons live in fissures, awash in molten lava. It stays liquid, somehow, bubbling to the surface and sinking again, as the surrounding ocean boils. Or at least most of them had once lived in places like this and you continue this trend.

You had heard the Mer from a distance away, but decided to leave him be. He was more than likely here cause you were ignoring the Sea Alor so you would do what you were doing with his ruler: ignore him. It became annoying when after a few hours he still wasn’t gone.

“Mer…” Your voice rumbled through the hot water. Slowly, you move your massive dragon frame and stick your head up out of the lava. You glare directly up at his hiding spot.

“Sea dragon.” His gruff response comes as he circles around the rocks to look down at you. “The Sea Alor has summoned you to Mandalore.”

“I am well aware.” You say, showing off your sharp teeth. To your surprise, he bares his own sharp teeth back at you. “And I don’t care. Tell him to fuck off.”

The quick moment of his shoulders and slight smile at your comment has your mind reeling. It’s gone in a flash though and Alpha swims closer as you lift yourself halfway out of the lava. Curious? Did he have a death wish?

“We all wish we could tell him to fuck off. But we have bigger fish to fry, dragon. So time to go.” He hisses down at you. Your eyes go wide before charging at him. Your head stops right in his face and you growl. The sound ripples through the water, but he doesn’t even flinch. You might have been a bit impressed if he wasn’t being stubborn with you.

“Leave.” You shove him back with your nose. He clings on with his claws though they aren’t sharp enough to cut through your scales. “What will it take to make you leave!?”

“How about a bet?” He glowers, looking you dead in the eye. “I win, you come back with me. You win, I leave.”

“And never come back.” You add. Alpha has a standoff with you for a long moment before he huffs. He lets go of your scales and moves back about half a meter.

“And never come back.” He agrees and reaches out a hand. He’s far too confident he’ll win for your tastes, but pride before the fall. You touch your nose to his hand and you can feel the magic binding you two together.

“Now the bet…” You trail off thinking.

“I bet I could ride you.” His suggestion takes you so off guard that you burst out laughing.

“I’m serious.” The intense need to wipe that smug look off his face drives you to commit without completely thinking it through.

“Fine. Last one minute without letting go.” You hiss, moving to let him sit at the junction between your neck and wings.

“You’re on.” Once he’s ready, you shoot off into the sea at mind boggling speeds. It is, however, not enough to shake Alpha off, no matter what tricks, twists, and turns you use. Exhausted and angry, you follow Alpha to Mandalore.

Even when the mission is over, the banter continues. Especially now that you walk around the palace in human form, not a day goes by when Alpha isn’t away on a mission that he doesn’t come to argue with you. He drives you absolutely mad, but you’ll admit to not outright avoiding him when you could.

It doesn’t help that the arguments and teasing become intense in certain ways. You slowly get in one another's personal space, the insults gain a flirtatious tone, you undress each other with your eyes, and conversations become littered with innuendos.

“I bet I could ride you” is what had gotten you into your current predicament. He’s leaning against the headboard, while he watches you intently. You are completely seated on his dick and you are giving yourself a second to breathe and adjust. You lean your forehead on his collar bone while his hands rest on your hips.

“More than you bargained for verd’ika?” Alpha teasers as strokes his hands along your thighs. You hum in response before nipping at his neck. He arches an amused eyebrow down at you.

“Shut up asshole.” You growl as you begin to move. Both your hands dig into his shoulders making him hiss.

“Make me.” He meets you halfway for a heated and messy kiss; one of his hands moves into your hair and helps push you closer. Your relationship is all verbal jabs, bites, and claws, but you love it like that. You love him. And you’re sure he feels the same even if neither of you ever say it.

[nutzgunray-lvt]

My Thoughts On The Dark Izuku Arc

A popular consensus on this site and in the fandom in general is that the Dark Izuku arc was a let down. Though fans have this opinion for different reasons, I'll be using this to word vomit why I myself don't like this arc and what I personally would have done differently.

Heads up: this is a UA critical, Class 1A critical, anti Bakugou, Pro-Heroes critical post. Don't like, don't read.

When I first heard about the Dark Izuku arc, I got excited. I was hyped up to see more world building, more people in Izuki and All Might's corner regarding the secret of One For All, as well as seeing the price Izuku was paying for his self sacrificial tendancies. To a very minor degree, it delivered on those aspects. I love the bunny/fox lady that Izuku saved and how it touched on the worsening discrimination those with mutant Quirks faced, I'm glad that Izuku could finally tell other people about One For All, and I was glad to see Izuku FINALLY being told by people other than All Might that he was working himself too hard and that he could rest.

Those were the only good things this arc did for me.

As for what this arc DIDN'T do well for me, it's a lot. To break it all down, my problems with this arc are: the mixed messages being thrown out and how Izuku's point of view and wellbeing is ignored.

Just a disclaimer, I don't agree with Izuku having to put this burden upon himself. Yes, he has One For All, but he's a CHILD at the end of the day, and he should have NEVER been put in this position. HOWEVER, narratively, I completely understand why he did it.

All For One was out of Tartarus along with many other incredibly dangerous villains, and on top of all of that, AFO had Ragdoll's Search Quirk. This meant that he essentially had eyes on Izuki (and One For All by extension) 24/7. Had he wanted to, he could have launched a full-scale invasion/attack on UA, putting numerous people in danger. It was this reason as to why Izuku made the decision to leave UA in the first place. His plan to use himself as bait to lure AFO and Shigaraki out of hiding made sense narratively, but was also an incredibly dangerous one... which is why it made absolutely no sense to me why these Pro-Heroes (who are ADULTS), were fine with it.

I understand that they were in an incredibly tough position. Japan was in chaos, public trust in heroes was at an all-time low, and Tartarus just had a mass escape. Many heroes were either dying, retiring, or went over to AFO's side. They were probably stretched thin as it was, but for there to be NO ONE saying, "I really don't like this. He's just a kid, and this is incredibly dangerous for him to do. Why don't we have one or two of us traveling with him to protect him?" is just mindboggling to me.

Yes, All Might insisted on going along with him, but he was Quirkless. Physically, there wouldn't be much he could do if someone had successfully gotten the drop on Izuku.

Then, these same heroes who were seemingly completely fine with this plan get all *surprised Pikachu face* when Izuku strikes out alone and begins pushing himself to the breaking point. Yes, they tell him that he needs to take a break... but then they indirectly pressure him more by saying that he's their best and only bet against AFO and Shigaraki. At this point, Izuku is ignoring food, rest, and his injuries. At this point, they should have been putting their foot down that, "No, you're a kid and you're in no condition to be doing this anymore. You need to rest."

This keeps going and going until Izuku is overwhelmed and nearly captured by Dictator, only to be rescued by Class 1A.

Once again, Izuku's point of view and wellbeing are ignored as all 19 of his classmates corner him and start fighting him into submission. I know they had the best of intentions - they didn't want Izuku to shoulder this burden on his own, they wanted to show him that they cared - but as I said above, Izuku was NOT in the right physical or mental condition for this to happen. All it wound up doing was pushing him away from them and making him try and run away. In fact, they're lucky they didn't scare him away entirely.

What's more, they all rally behind Bakugou while doing this.

I've made my intense dislike for Bakugou clear on my blog, so I won't get into it here. But the fact that they sit by and not only allow Bakugou to blame ALL MIGHT for all of this, but also let him repeatedly insult Izuku while TRYING TO SHOW HIM THAT HE'S NOT ALONE is just infuriating. Again, Izuku is in awful shape both physically and mentally. The absolute last thing he needs to hear is Bakugou insulting him and projecting his own flaws onto Izuku.

Even worse is how the hell the teachers at UA are even okay with this?

I also understand that they're probably stretched thin as well, but they were totally okay with not just Izuku leaving, but the rest of 1A following behind him? Yeah, I call bullshit. These were the same teachers who were divided on whether or not to let the first years participate in Work-Studies, teachers who apparently regard the students at UA to be like their own children (as said in the light novels). I'll excluse Aizawa from this, seeing as how he was busy healing in the hospital.

Again, if there was more of the ethics of this being debated in universe (hell, even making the public's trust in heroes fall even lower), I would have been okay with it, because it would have been warrented.

The worst part of me is how in my opinion, the narrative itself doesn't even know how to feel about all of this.

Yes, Izuku essentially dropped out of school to go chase Japan's #1 villain. Yes, Izuku is destroying himself trying to protect everyone, and everyone's warning him not to push himself too hard... but he's getting results, GREAT results even! He's saved countless people and even defeated high-ranking villains such as Lady Nagant and Muscular, among many others. Even the Pro-Heroes are saying how Izuku is their best bet to stop AFO and Shigaraki, so which is it? Should he have stayed and let those villains run around and cause mayhem, or should he put himself in a severe amount of danger but at the cost of those villains ultimately being aprehended?

My final gripe with this arc is just how rushed it is. You're telling me that all of this took place over the course of one month? That Izuku neglected his health to the point of having to use Black Whip and Float to move around, only for it all to be made better by a bath and nap? Again, I call bullshit.

What I would have done differently with this arc is this: have Izuku leave UA without telling ANYBODY. He could still leave his letters for Class 1A, but other than that, he's gone. All Might could let the Pro-Heroes know about OFA, but they'd be trying to find Izuku and bring him into protection because as a kid, he should not even be in this position. All Might himself would also be joining them in these efforts. Izuku would spend several months aprehending villains and traveling across Japan, unlocking and mastering more parts of OFA. He could still push himself towards his breaking point, worrying the past users of OFA, but instead of the entirety of 1A swarming him, only have his closest friends come to being him back.

This brings us to UA and their reaction.

The UA teachers could finally be let in on the OFA secret, and maybe have one or two of them at a time try to find Izuku. Have them state that as students, 1A is not allowed to go out there and try to find him, as they're needed at the campus. Ochako, Ida, Todoroki, Asui, Fumikage, and Aoyama can say "fuck it, we're going anyway" and try to calmly bring him back. They can acknowledge why he left but state that, as his friends, they're not scared of being caught up in the crossfire. They can state that they'll shoulder the burden alongside him, and Izuku can still pass out and be taken to the HOSPITAL. He'd be hospitalized for a week or so and then the debate as to whether or not to take Izuku back to UA can take place. Because on the one hand... there's the whole reason he left in the first place: to protect the civillians and teachers and students there. On the other, they're not about to just throw Izuku on the streets and say "good luck. Try not to die."

For that matter, this could cause some pushback against the heroes for "using a child soldier to do their dirty work." They can truthfully say, "We don't condone this. He ran off on his own and we're trying to find him and being him back."

Anyways, that's my take on the Dark Izuku arc. I left some things out, but this is the essence of it all.

[strxnged]

CHILUMI: # a chasmic mistake.

CHAPTER I: descent.

chapter summary. in which Lumine makes a decision she will regret; in which Childe has everything under control.

wc. 3.4k. genre. enemies to lovers, adventure, pining.

table of contents / next chapter

Lumine’s muscles tensed as she felt the ground beneath her feet give way. She should have seen this coming, having ignored the signs placed around the area warning against trespassing. She’d never been the type to pay them much attention, nor had her target. And Paimon wasn’t around to drag her back, either—her floaty friend was left behind somewhere as she’d scaled the mountains and skidded back down them, only willing to stop for one thing.

That one thing would be her blade to the neck of the Eleventh Harbinger.

Paimon had said this whole thing was pointless, that “Mr. Moneybags” would only get them both into danger. Lumine had initially agreed, but seeing Childe, the man who had tried to kill her and wipe out all of Liyue Harbour, recklessly hunting a bounty across the nation had driven her to devote herself entirely to stopping him. 

Countless duels had commenced over the last few weeks, and Lumine had contributed greatly to the chaos that followed in his wake. He liked resisting her, and she liked that she got closer to defeating him every time. But it was because of Childe. It was all his fault. Him, and those damn Fatui.

Lumine had caught word of a bountied creature, some kind of rare animal belonging to a Sumeran noble. She had already understood that this was his goal. But she found it very suspicious of the deceptive (and wealthy) Snezhnayan to chase just any bounty. Surely it wasn’t just over some Mora, because that was definitely not worth falling several hundred meters into the so-called solar chariot ruins known as the Chasm. Thus, she had been keeping an eye on him. A very close, hunting eye.

He had told her about his plans himself during one of their duels, saying, “You can’t blame me for bounty hunting. You’ve done enough of that to understand the thrill of it.” And this, she could not deny. In a way, he was her own target, the unattainable bounty being satisfaction.

Lumine had never been great at saving herself from near-miss falls, but whatever ability she could muster would momentarily have to come into use. She would grab ahold of something—anything—to keep from getting herself stuck in the abandoned mines. She slid down a crumbling slate of rock, which angled her closer to the gaping black hole below. The Qixing had claimed to have sealed it off completely; how could it be that there was now a wide mouth to the dark caverns below?

Making quick use of Anemo, she managed to propel herself to the edge of the gap, scrambling up to uncertain safety. Only once she was assured the rock would hold her did she venture to peer down the hole. 

“Hey, girlie! You sure you wanna go down there?”

The nauseatingly charming voice echoed dramatically from somewhere above her and she looked up.

Childe stood on some jutting rocks further up the opposite side of the cavity, waving his fingers at her from over the edge. “Hello!”

She didn’t respond, making a face she hoped he could read from his distance.

“Someday you’ll be happier to see me,” Childe said. “Come now, no need to look at me like that. Suppose I’ll catch you later, then, traveller. Careful on the way down!”

With that, he took a step and a hop over the edge, soaring confidently towards the depths of the Chasm. A flash of grey and ginger later, and he had disappeared into the darkness. Lumine crawled to the overhang’s edge, gazing down into it again.

She had no defensive logic for the decision she was about to make, and yet… she had to. He was dragging her down with him without even touching her. She had to follow him, no matter what.

—

The first thing Lumine noticed upon landing was an ache in her legs. Her glider had served her well for most of it—but the amount of time it took her eyes to adjust to the low light level still had her legs nervously tensing for most of the descent.

It smelled of dank cave, metal, and some bitter scent she couldn’t place. She immediately took to a rock that was just the right size for leaning on, and regained her wits as she looked around. There was no exit; that was clear.  The cavern appeared to be fairly large, narrowing towards the stone ceiling from which she fell, assuring no simple clambering out. She’d find a way out eventually, as she always did, but escape seemed to be quite out of reach for now.

Damn. If only she could contact Venti to fly her out. But then, even if she could, the last time she had seen him he was too intoxicated to fly straight. It wouldn’t serve either of them well. Also, as lovely as Venti was as a friend, he was one of the last people she’d like to be stuck underground with. Childe was further down that list, of course.

Around herself, she could make out the shapes of different rocks and minerals, dismally glowing cave-dwelling blossoms, and in the distance, the faint silhouettes of abandoned mining equipment. 

And no Paimon. Paimon would have no idea where she was.

Lumine had no chance to grieve this lack of communication, because she heard footsteps and disfigured yelling just a moment later.

“Who’s there? Name yourself!”

She said nothing, hopping over the rock and gliding further down into the cavern. Unfortunately, she noticed the Fatui camp’s fire all-too-close to where she landed.

“There’s an intruder!” The distorted voice of a Pyroslinger broke out and she groaned internally. Not even a minute to catch her breath? Really?

Lumine’s attacks came naturally, blowing down the Fatui’s elemental shields and stunning them with Anemo vortexes. Finally reaching the last enemy, the Pyroslinger Bracer, she took slow steps towards the corner she’d blasted him into. She always soaked up the last moments of her victory for what they could offer: the Pyroslinger’s arms raised to protect himself, muttering curses just loud enough for her to enjoy, and the inevitability of his defeat. Her movements halted, suddenly, though it was neither her doing nor the Fatui skirmisher’s. Her vision was dimming, and she looked around herself to see strange dark mud covering the ground. Her nose was overwhelmed by the bitter smell now, and her legs were leaden.

Three shots from the recovering Pyroslinger now struck her chest, knocking her off her balance. She collapsed to the ground with hands cushioning her fall in the egregious mud. She looked up as the Pyroslinger repositioned his gun to aim again. She couldn’t pull her hands out of the mud fast enough to reach for her sword, which had fallen to her left.

“Stand down, comrade,” a tenor voice said from somewhere behind. 

The Fatui skirmisher looked up from her and cocked his head. “Who gives you the authority?”

A second later, two arrows had struck each of the skirmisher’s shoulders, just hanging onto the top of the fur, and a third zipped directly into the feather on his hat, knocking it clean off.

“Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya, grants me absolute authority.” Childe stepped into Lumine’s view, giving a cold smile to the skirmisher. “Can’t recognize one of the Eleven Harbingers, comrade?” A dim flash bloomed above his gloved palm in a shapeless lantern of elemental energy, casting an eerie blue glow on his visage. 

The skirmisher stood straight, giving an awkward salute. “Forgive me, sir.”

“You’re off the hook, but don’t go aiming your gun at me again,” he chided. “Her Majesty will hear about it.”

“No, sir. But—” he gestured to Lumine “—she took down my whole squad.”

Childe peered into the shadows, noting the unconscious or incapacitated forms of said squad. “I see.” His dim elemental lantern extinguished and he offered Lumine his hand, which she greeted with nothing but an offended stare. “Good work, girlie. You know, you really don’t have to attack ‘em unprovoked, hey?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” she spat, getting to her feet without his assistance and dusting herself off. This mud would surely leave quite the stain.

“Don’t I get a ‘thank you’?”

“I had that under control.”

“I’d beg to differ,” he said, leaning over to her to wipe a bit of muck out of her hair. She froze, at first, and then stepped away from him, slapping his hand away. Fetching her sword from the mud, Lumine nearly stormed off.

But then she realized, with much consternation, that she had nowhere to walk away to. Her goal had been to stop him. She wasn’t quite sure how to go about it.

By now he should have prompted a duel, as had happened each time before. She’d interrupted him chatting with (interrogating) innocent civilians in Qingce Village, prevented his discovery of Albedo’s camp, and taken clues for herself. Rumours were everywhere, of course—and yet they had both been acquainted with similar directions to the earthquake zone which had dropped them here. The targeted creature was last spotted and chased away by guards of the Chasm. The guards were the reckoned finish line of their race for intel. But the guards were at the Surface, and they were down here. 

Childe grimaced at her movement. His eyes didn’t leave her.

Lumine cleared her throat. “You didn’t, by chance… end up talking to the…”

“The guards? Nah, I didn’t make it that far. You thought I might have come back for you, girlie?” He sniggered.

Lumine stared at him blankly. She wanted to ask him, what now? But she also didn’t want to be confronted about her decision to come down here in the first place.

He turned to the Pyroslinger. “When’s your relay over?”

“Twenty-seven days.”

“Rations?”

“We’re fine. There’s water sources down here, and mushrooms we can roast in the worst case.” 

“Good. Carry on, comrade.” He eyed a Fatuus in the shadows, who was groaning in pain. “And… try to take care of your squad, will ya?”

“Acknowledged.”

Lumine almost felt guilt for causing this group all the trouble. But then she remembered. They were Fatui.

And so was Childe. She placed her hand on the hilt of her sword and glared at him. He turned to her with an amiable smile, ignoring her stance.

“Now, then, traveller, whaddya say we explore a little?”

Lumine tightened her hand’s grip on the hilt. “For what?”

“Well, for fun, of course.”

She gave him a hard look. “Okay,” she said slowly, relaxing her hand, “let’s explore. For fun.”

—

Oh, it was excruciating walking alongside her enemy like this. Lumine hated how he walked a little bit ahead, how he pointed out directions they should go, how he made small talk. How he attempted banter and she fell into the trap of responding. How he never hesitated at a single turn, offering light from his vision in case she found the dark to be too much (which she denied, affronted by the preposition that she was afraid of darkness).

“It seems to narrow into a smaller cave, here,” Childe was saying, “why don’t we—”

“You should let me walk ahead,” she interrupted.

He cocked his head at her, Fatui mask in his hair shifting with the movement. “Why? You want to protect me?”

“No, idiot. I don’t trust you.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust his intuition—it was sharp, she could admit—but that she hated being out of control. She was used to the “why don’t we—”s from Paimon, but rather than observant reminders as it was with her pixie companion, it sounded like suspicious schemes. Anything he said sounded like a part of a ploy, a puzzle to unravel. Some kind of evil mission, probably. It always would be with him.

He tch’d, but gestured for her to walk ahead. “You have so little faith in me.”

“I wonder why, Childe,” she spat his codename. “I wonder why.”

With a pause, he sent Lumine a more serious look. He spoke carefully. “I think it would help,” he said, “if you took the time to hear me out a little, girlie.”

Lumine studied his expression. It wasn’t often she got to see his expression reveal anything more than military, wiley, or bloodthirsty. The corners of his lips were nudged back, his brows were slightly gathered, and his eyes were direct. And his Fatui mask was as red as ever.

“I respectfully disagree,” she said, taking the lead ahead. “No amount of explaining can justify your actions. And don’t call me that.”

“I’m not trying to challenge your morals, traveller.”

She threw her arms out. “Then stop acting like you want me to fancy your ass.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it about, Childe?”

He hesitated again, boasting an irked expression. “I don’t need a babysitter, but you’ve been following me for weeks. Why?”

“You have the codename ‘Childe’ for a reason, don’t you?”

He went silent. Lumine looked over her shoulder to see his brows lowering.

“Giving up on your own case already?”

His gaze set into hers. “Do you hear that?”

Lumine listened, and then latched her eyes onto an ominous shape in the darkness. There was a soft, rattling snarl, which she recognized as that of a Geovishap only a second before it was too late. She leapt before Childe, raising her sword just in time to deflect the pounce of the dragonish Creature. Its claws scraped against the stone floor as it fell back, gearing up to leap again. Childe dashed past her and the Geovishap, and aimed a shot right at the nape of its neck, causing it to freeze milliseconds before lunging. It twitched, falling to its curved back.

For a second, Lumine thought he’d slain the Geovishap in a single shot, but it then began to twitch, spin, roll, towards Childe this time. He dove out of the way, narrowly escaping one hit which only seemed to aggravate the Geovishap more, landing directly in front of him with its claws out. Lumine always thought of Childe as rather tall and altitudinally advantaged, but when standing before an adult Geovishap he looked so small. Fleeting fear overtook her mind and with a leap from behind she took a steady blade through its skull.

Childe stepped back as it crumpled in his direction, Hydro blades dissolving into elemental energy as he gave her a taunting look. “You know, I had that under control.”

A proud smile spread across Lumine’s lips. “Ha. I’d beg to differ,” she said, planting one foot on the creature’s back, almost too high to reach, and driving her sword heavily into its back through scales.

His gaze shifted between the hilt of her sword, her overstretched leg, and her expression. A grin bloomed gradually, blessedly, on his own face and he laughed jovially. “Alright, then. You can lead the way.”

Lumine cleared her throat and withdrew her blade, swinging it inattentively before sheathing it. She forced her smile down. “Yes. Good. I will.”

He took to walking behind her, and she hated that more, because she could not see him. After a few minutes, she commanded, “Walk beside me.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Shut the hell up.”

He took to her right side with an expression like a satisfied fourteen-year old who just won a match of cards. “We should find somewhere to set up camp pretty soon, no?”

Lumine huffed. She did not want to set up camp with No. 11 of the Fatui Harbingers.

“Unless you want to go back and find my subordinates. I’m not sure how pleased they would be to host you after your unprompted attack, but I am great at convincing.”

“You’re not always so great at convincing,” she said, still unable to admit he had a point. She had no way to tell the time but she knew it had been late afternoon upon their descent, and they had been walking for several hours. Her legs were in need of rest.

“I’d like to think sometimes it takes longer than other times, but the job always gets done.”

“You’d like to think a lot of things.” The tunnel around them was widening rapidly as they walked. “I’d like to think this is our way out, but how likely is that?”

He pointed ahead. “There’s actually a bit of a semi-cave there, under that overhang, you see? You wanna set up there?”

She squinted into the darkness. “You’re joshing. There’s nothing to see.”

“Come on.” They walked in the direction he had gestured towards, and there was indeed a semi-cave, three walls but a big enough opening on the fourth side that there was no chance of getting trapped. “Is this to your liking, girlie?” he asked, like they were touring a couple’s apartment.

“Could be worse,” she conceded, and dropped her bag against the wall. “Now, by setting up camp, what is it you’re actually referring to?” Lumine crossed her arms, eyeing him. “Fire, food, shelter, and comfort? Or do you just conk out for a few hours on the ground?”

“Do you think I’m a savage?” he asked with a laugh. “I carry a leather blanket in my bag. I can make a fire with wet wood. I know how to turn a snowy tree into a cozy shelter. Hm… But we haven’t got any kindling, so shall we find some cave grass?”

Lumine, slightly insulted that he supposed her straightforward method of setting up camp to be savage, sauntered towards the greater opening of the cave and surveyed the area. There was still a strangely sufficient amount of light, though perhaps not enough for her to pick up on details such as potential grass locales. She squinted, trying to decide quite how far away the other side of the cave really was.

“Let’s walk this way.” Childe waved her over, providing his blue glow with elemental energy. She wished she knew how to do that. But she didn’t dare ask, knowing that sharing any trade secrets with a Fatuus would be both humiliating and disgusting.

“Childe,” she said, instead, and then hesitated. The forthcoming inquiry was terrible, but had to be inquired nonetheless.

“Yeah?”

“What are we gonna… or rather, what are you doing down here, and…”

He met her eyes without a tinge of sass. “You’re really asking your sworn enemy to reveal his plan to you?”

“Uh…” Lumine sucked air through her teeth. This was atrociously painful. “What’s the plan?”

Childe’s face broke into a wide grin and he howled. “You are so cute.”

“Answer the damn question, Harbinger.”

He chuckled some more. “Alright, since you asked so nicely. I already have enough leads that I know the bounty’s down here.” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a few days to reach it.”

Lumine narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you… know the Chasm well?”

He clicked his tongue. “Not particularly, but I don’t get lost.”

“You don’t get lost? Not even in massive, cursed cave systems?”

“Nope!”

“Do you have much experience underground?”

“Oh…” he said. “Yes, a bit.” 

For a fraction of a second his smile flickered, and this Lumine noticed with suspicion. However, she decided not to push it, keeping a watchful eye on him as they descended deeper into the cavern.

Wherever they were going, Lumine would have to stay on her guard for the deception that the Fatui Harbinger inevitably had in store for her. She knew how to survive, but she did not know the Chasm. She had not even seen a map of it before, and only had a trifle of knowledge about what had happened here. She was aware that it was related to the cataclysm 500 years ago, but its role was a mystery to her and the reason for its hushed nature in Liyue was just as mysterious. It was unclear whether Childe knew the Chasm, but he was of this world and was therefore at an advantage.

That, and he was the one who had some kind of true motive for being down here.

And Lumine’s only motive was to prevent him from accomplishing it.

author's note. please reblog if you enjoyed. thanks so much for reading! i'm so excited about this series man i poured my soul into it

— table of contents / next chapter

➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST

[harwinsgirl]

The White Sheep - Harwin Strong x Reader, Part Three

What’s a Targaryen wedding if there isn’t a little blood?

(Hello all! Forgive the huge delay in posting this chapter. I got burnout from work, then I was sick, and it took awhile for me to get back to it. Part Three was supposed to be the end, but it started to get a little long, so I think we’ll tie it off with Part 4. Hope you enjoy!)

“Where is Rhaenyra?”

You craned your neck in an attempt to glance towards the door, ignoring the groan from the servant girl who had to abruptly stop applying mulberry juice to your cheeks. You had requested your sister’s presence over an hour ago and yet there was no sign of her, no word at all. Your wedding was fast approaching and considering that it was most likely going to be regarded as a travesty in future histories, you needed some semblance of support. Rhaenyra would undoubtedly be on your side and would have no qualms about being the only witness to your union. Anxiously, you fiddled with your fingernails and squirmed in your seat, eliciting another annoyed response from your handmaiden. “My princess, please,” the young lady pleaded with you, “Talyse has been sent to retrieve your sister, she’s due back any minute now. Now if you would just stay still, you’re almost ready. We haven’t much time.”

“I’m sorry Lysanna,” you said, placing your hand on hers and giving it a reaffirming squeeze. “You are doing a fine job, and I am grateful for your attentiveness. I am just…” you trailed off, your eyes flickering back to the door again, “I am feeling lost without my sister on my wedding day.”

You and Harwin had decided to be wed that night. At risk of having your father’s forces intervene, you had to act as quickly as possible. The chance of him revoking your right to marry Harwin was all too real and threatening, and after the chaos the two of you unleashed in the throne room that morning, there was no going back on your words now.

You had given the order to your handmaidens to prepare you for the event, as well as locate a septon that would be willing to perform the ceremony outside of the septs. The only guest to the wedding that you requested was your sister, who you imagined would be far too excited to witness your greatest act of rebellion to date. A handful of your servants were sent along with several trusted guards to clear a path to the creek where Harwin had asked for your hand. A treasured area to you both, you had no doubt in your mind that it would be a splendid place to marry your one true love. The arrangements were nearing completion, but your stomach had begun to sour. There was still no word about your sister, and Harwin had not checked in on you since he brought you back to your chambers.

Lysanna squeezed your hand back and smiled, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Believe me when I say princess that the other girls and I are feeling…conflicted. We are overjoyed that you are to be married, although we wish that we could celebrate on a much grander scale. If I may speak honestly, I am perfectly content with sharing this moment with you, as a friend. And your sister will be with you soon, like she always is.”

You dabbed at your eyes, silently willing the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks to dissipate. Your devoted handmaiden quickly took you by the arm and lightly tugged you towards the mirror propped against your wall. “Please, no tears my princess, not on your special day. Just look at how beautiful you are.”

You looked into the ornate mirror that was once your grandmother’s, sucking in a deep breath when you took in your own reflection. You could hardly believe that your own image could be so bewitching. Your long hair cascaded down your back, forming perfect coils and soft curls. Your dress was a simple linen gown, pale and perfect, forming gentle ruffles that looked like the crest of ocean waves. On your head you wore a crown of dragon’s breath buds and crimson roses, the only reference to your house colors that you would bring yourself to allow. Your only jewelry was the diamond ring that Harwin picked out for you himself. The berries added a natural flush to your cheeks and a darker hue to your lips. You were truly a goddess, in your own right.

“My brother is about to be a very lucky man indeed, my princess.”

An unwelcome voice tainted the warmth of the moment, like a harsh breath on a candle’s flame. You turned quickly and felt a chill to the bone when you took in the sight of Larys Strong sitting on your maroon chaise, looking entirely too at home.

“I hate to interfere with such important procedures,” he continued, his eyes lingering for too long in certain places, “but I must insist on a private audience with you. I’m afraid I have some news regarding your betrothed.”

Lysanna looked at you with wide eyes, a silent plea for you to refuse etched across her face. Reassuringly, you nodded shortly at her and motioned towards the door. “A moment please, my dear.”

Lysanna bowed awkwardly and dashed to the exit. Being left alone with Larys Strong was not a position you were comfortable being in, but you decided it was best that you act indifferent. Whatever he wanted could not be good, considering the circumstances and the timing of his visit. It was best to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“State your business please, my lord.” You said curtly.

“Never had the gift for conversation, did you princess?” Larys quipped, “and if I recall, several suitors made the same remark to your father years ago. They are fortunate to have not lost their tongues.”

“I prefer to save my breath for more important matters,” you retorted, “and it’s bold of you to make the same offense those children made all those years ago.”

“I am not in the presence of your father.” Larys noted.

“And yet you are in the presence of a Targaryen,” you said lowly, your tone doing very little to conceal the rage that was brewing inside you, “Even a quiet dragon has teeth.”

“A tongue so rarely used, no wonder it’s silver. I assure you princess, our meeting will not take long. I thought I would share a story with you.” Larys looked amused as he rose to his feet. He leaned up against the chair and looked elsewhere, as if he was trying to recall something.

“When my father was courting my mother, he took to the meadows and gathered a bouquet of wildflowers, flush with vibrance and life. He presented them to her and told her to use them on their wedding day. Quite bold of him, wasn’t it?” Larys made eye contact with you again. You felt a shiver run down your spine. How could someone living and breathing have eyes so cold and lifeless?

“Can you see where your husband to be gets his sense of pride?” He asked with a wry smile. “I also regaled Harwin with this little family anecdote of ours after congratulating him on this momentous day. And to my surprise, he thanked me for reminding him of the gesture, clapping me on the back and swiftly turning on his heel. If I were to venture a guess, I would say he was heading straight for the gardens to do the same thing for you. Quite the romantic, I know. It was only when he was out of sight that I remembered seeing quite the number of guards gathered in that very area a short time before. It probably would’ve been in your best interest if I had forewarned him.”

“Why would there be guards in the garden?” You asked, your voice sounding higher with your growing sense of worry, “and why would Harwin need to be apprised of such a thing? He has done nothing wrong.”

“Well that’s the thing princess,” Larys continued, “with all the talk that’s been happening around the court today, everyone is on alert. The king has been beside himself, seemingly with anger. Princess Rhaenyra has been confined to her chambers for the foreseeable future. Everyone who seems out of place can be subjected to a lengthy interrogation.”

“Why are you doing this?” You hissed, moving closer to him, your body shaking with rage.

“I believe I am owed a question first.” Larys bit back, his voice laced with malice. “There is something I need to know, princess. Did my idiot brother fuck you? Ruin you? Are you carrying his bastard?”

“Harwin has not stolen my virtue and I will have your tongue if you imply such a thing again.” You snapped.

“Then what is the reason for this madness? And do not tell me love,” While not nearly as foreboding as your soon to be husband, Larys still towered over you and made you feel uneasy. “Love is not a sufficient cause to dishonor my house and cast shame on my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve never felt it.” you said boldly, raising your chin up as you spoke. “If you had, you would understand it’s power. And do not blame your lack of knowing on your condition, believe me when I say that ser. No woman alive could love a heart as black as yours.”

Quicker than you could anticipate, Larys’ hand wrapped around your neck and squeezed, his mouth forming a tight line as he began to push you backwards. Eventually you felt your back hit the stone wall, your eyes wide with fear. He turned your head and forced you to look out of your window.

“The windows are so very large in the Red Keep. And beautiful princesses such as yourself are usually housed in towers that afford them magnificent views of the grounds. It’s entirely plausible that you would look outside the window in search of your beloved, who had not yet arrived to escort you to your ceremony.” You struggled in Larys’ grip. He moved his hands from your neck and instead grabbed your arms, pinning you to the wall and using his body to keep you locked in place.

“It also stands to reason that you would be excitable, anxious, aflutter with energy and nerves. Now, we just experienced rainfall only a few days ago. Some of the stone is still quite wet. It would be easy to understand how a nervous girl might lose her grip whilst gazing out on her perch. A tragic end for an otherwise dutiful daughter, who had lived a fulfilling life up until the moment she decided to besmirch her own good name, and the good names of others.”

“Why bother killing me Larys? When I am to marry your brother and then we would likely never see each other again?” You gasped out, your breath returning to you slowly, “We would return to Harrenhal. Your place is here, slithering around court and spreading your poison. You and I know what it’s like to be second born. You can’t possibly be threatened by the thought of Harwin and his future family enjoying his birthright. If you ever felt entitled to the title of Lord Strong, then you might be the biggest fool I have ever met.”

“Stupid girl, not another word out of that pretty mouth.” He snarled, spit landing on your cheek. “You listen to me. My foolish oaf of a brother will mourn you. The king will mourn you. The entire realm will mourn you. But at the end of the day, you are not the heir to the Iron Throne. No stake has been made in you. The king can always father more children if he truly feels the need, but at this moment you are not worth the effort to replace. I cannot stand by like my idiot father and let some whore, no matter how royal her blood is, defile us. Time will erase the hideous blemish that you have left on my family’s name.”

“My handmaiden saw you in here with me. You don’t think she would challenge the notion of my accidental death?” You questioned. Larys was deadly serious. At the moment, he was content with distressing you physically and verbally sparring with you, but that could change in an instant. You had to buy yourself more time.

“A nameless servant in a castle as vast as this? I hardly think one more dead cunt will make much of a difference.” Larys said lowly. “Now tell me princess, have you made peace with the gods? If you are lucky, you will be meeting with them very soon.”

“Get off me!” You panicked, thrashing about wildly as you tried valiantly to break out from Larys’ hold on you. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly as he moved one hand to your waist, inching you closer towards the window.

“Hush, princess. Apologize for your sins. Remember your true nature. Docile. Demure. Dutiful. Go towards death with your quiet dignity.”

Just as quickly as Larys dug his fingers into your side, he relinquished you from his grip. You bolted from underneath him and quickly ran across the room, where you saw the reason for his sudden release of you.

Lysanna was holding a dagger. She was now rooted to the spot, dread now coursing through her veins from what she had just done. She had only managed to pierce Larys’ shoulder, which allowed you time to escape, but did nothing to incapacitate him. Crumpled against the wall only momentarily, he reached behind and grazed the wound with his fingers. Blood trickled down his hand.

The wound was superficial. Larys staggered forward, producing his own knife from underneath his cloak. You screamed at Lysanna, begging her to move, but she could not be displaced, her eyes fixated on the looming threat before her.

“Pity. Your death is going to be a lot more painful than it had to be.”

The blade was raised and Larys moved swiftly with murderous intent. You had stepped in front of Lysanna to shield her from any blows. For a brief second you allowed your eyes to flutter closed, not to escape from the reality of your wretched situation, but rather to recollect memories of dark brown curls, hearty laughter, beautiful blue eyes. Rushing water over river stones, a small gemstone that twinkled in the light of the moon like your very own star. A passionate kiss, Harwin’s soft lips upon your own. Calmly, you cradled those memories close, your own personal comfort in your final moment, for death was all but certain.

And then a flash of silver stepped between you and your killer.

Harwin had burst through the door and stormed in front of you, his hand snaking underneath his brother’s, deflecting the path of his knife. He used his other hand to drive his sword through Larys’ side, the sound of metal slicing through flesh and the gurgling of blood echoing in your chambers. The blade dropped to the floor with a loud clatter. You felt Lysanna’s hands grip you tightly for comfort, a scared whimper escaping her throat. While your handmaiden cast her eyes down, unable to look any longer, you couldn’t avert your eyes. Larys looked at his brother with pure, unbridled hate as he squirmed, his hands moving to steady the blade that had sunk into his side. Harwin’s eyes were full of sadness. “Why, brother?” Harwin asked quietly. His question was hollow. No matter the reason, his brother was dead to him, a ghost standing before him. A sniveling excuse for a man.

“A woman,” Larys croaked, “you threw your life away, you dishonored your father, you shamed your brother, you sullied our name, for a woman. A stupid whore.”

Harwin removed the sword from his brother’s abdomen and kicked him down to the floor. A flurry of kingsguard swarmed into the room, lifting Larys to his feet. “See that my brother is taken to the maesters. The wound I inflicted should not have been deep enough to end his life. I want him treated,” Harwin stepped forward and tilted Larys’ head upwards with a gloved hand, “so that the king may visit him himself and decide what action to take next.”

“You are not worthy of being Lord Strong!” Larys howled over the sound of his feet dragging across the floor. Cries of agony could be heard as he was led out from your room and down the hall, not from his painful injuries, and not even from knowing death was imminent. The worst outcome for Larys was knowing that he had been outmaneuvered. That he had lost.

Harwin nodded at one of the men, who then promptly ordered the rest of the guards out of the room. You quickly grabbed the arm of one of the soldiers, asking him to take care of Lysanna for you. You gave her a kiss on the cheek and sent her off to be treated and looked after. With the sound of the heavy door being shut, the room became quiet, with Harwin still being entirely too far from you. You charged towards him and sank into his arms.

“Shhh,” he murmured into your hair, his hands moving to squeeze your arms reassuringly. “It’s over with, my dear. You’re safe now. I promise I’ll always be here to protect you.”

“Where on earth were you?” You said shakily, your eyes still squeezed shut tightly as you tried to hold back tears. You opened your eyes when Harwin let go of you, reaching for a bundle that he had dropped when he entered the room.

“Wildflowers,” he said sheepishly, handing you the bouquet of white lilies and ferns. “My father did the same when he was seeking my mother’s favor. Larys, of all people, reminded me. I thought you would appreciate the romantic gesture. Hand picked them myself.”

“It is very much appreciated.” You said with a small smile, brushing your fingers over the delicate buds. “Did the guards detain you? Is that what kept you so long?”

Harwin looked at you strangely. “You know about the guards?”

“Larys mentioned something about guards being posted in the gardens. I had a feeling he was using them to delay you in getting to me.”

Harwin straightened and took your hand in his, squeezing gently. “Do not fret when I tell you this my love, because as you can see, I am unharmed. But my brother meant to do more than detain me. I had a feeling Larys wouldn’t have been suddenly overcome with our family’s nostalgic history if it didn’t benefit him in some way. I took an alternate route through the gardens and found several men waiting to ambush me near the entrance, frauds dressed in the armor of the kingsguard. Dispatched them quickly, save for one. When I went to ask him who put him and his brothers up to the task, I found he had no tongue. Without a doubt in my mind, I knew Larys was responsible. He was the only one who knew I’d be headed there. Most of the guests have been ordered to stay in confinement for the evening. It was clearly a set up. You all but confirmed it for me just now.”

Bringing your hand to his lips, he pressed a tender kiss to your palm. “I swear, my darling, I’ve never moved so fast in my life. I just wanted to get to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t arrive sooner. Let me have a look at you. Are you hurt?”

“Harwin-“ you started to protest, shaking your head dismissively. In your mind, what he had just gone through was worse. The betrayal of a brother, combat within the Keep’s grounds. You wanted to glance him over and check that he was alright, but he afforded you no such opportunity. Instead, you had to stand as Harwin looked over every mark that had been inflicted on you. Bruises on your wrists, redness on your neck, indents of fingernails embedded in your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, in any other instance, Harwin would’ve insisted on storming down into the dungeons in order to stab and maim his brother for each mark that was left on your body. Even if he was too late, and all that was left was a battered corpse, Harwin would still insist on fairness, slicing and stabbing at Larys’s cold, crumpled form on the stony floors until he was satisfied.

But that was not what you needed. That is not what you would need in order to heal, and he knew that. Instead, he looked at you in the eyes and made you a silent promise to never leave your side again. He brought your wrists to his lips and kissed every inch of skin that was inflamed, repeating this action again and again wherever he saw a scratch or scrape. He finally pulled you flush against his chest, holding you there tightly as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I’ve heard it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but I think we’ve been dealt all the cards we can handle. So I feel free to tell you that you are the most gorgeous creature that’s ever graced the face of the earth. I am utterly entranced by you. I cannot wait to be your husband, your faithful partner in this life and the next. I will do everything in my power to ensure your happiness and give you a life that you deserve.”

“I love you Ser Harwin,” you breathed. You pulled away from him just enough to be able to lean forward and hold his cheek in your hand. He leaned into the embrace and smiled.

Before any more could be said, Rhaenyra threw open your door with an amount of force that you weren’t aware she possessed. Out of breath, her expression wild, and blood clearly visible on her golden gown.

“Rhaenyra!” You broke away from Harwin’s hold in precisely enough time for your older sister to snake her way in between the two of you.

“Are you alright?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice ladened with concern. Her inspection of you was a lot less gentle than Harwin’s. She strode across the room and began lifting your arms, feeling your sides, frantically looking for any signs of abuse.

“Can I ask the same of you? There’s blood on your dress!” You exclaimed. You began to mirror her actions, checking for any signs of injury or ailment.

“Not mine.” Rhaenyra said dismissively as she continued looking you over.

“Not your what?” You sighed with annoyance and batted her hands away, trying to get her to focus.

“Not my blood.” Rhaenyra frowned when she saw a particularly harsh scratch on your wrist. She said that far too casually for your liking.

Your eyes boggled at her confession. “What?!”

“Care to elaborate?” Harwin said with a hint of amusement.

“You’re asking for elaboration, Ser Harwin, is that right? You want me to recount the strangest, most horrid day of my existence?” You privately thanked Harwin for asking your sister for more details because she finally turned her attention elsewhere. “I was reading in my chambers when my sister’s handmaiden burst through, rambling on quickly about how my baby sister is now engaged to her former guard, that my father is beyond pissed about it and that I’m likely the only one who gets to see this cursed union, and before I can even react my father marches on by with a swarm of guards and demands that I be locked inside until further notice. I start going mad, pacing inside the room like a lunatic, probably scaring the poor girl my sister sent to me. I command one of the guards to let me out, and they deny me. I try again, asking for a message to be sent out, and again, they deny me. I was so enraged that I-“ she stumbled off, looking elsewhere.

“You what?” You pressed.

“I bit the finger of one of the guards.”

“OFF?!”

“Not off! Not off!” Rhaenyra emphasized repeatedly. “Just enough to make him bleed, a little more profusely than I thought.”

“Sounds like you got your message out.” You said, unable to hide a small giggle.

“I’m surprised the entirety of the Keep didn’t hear that man wail like a babe.” Rhaenyra muttered.

“It was his fault for not wearing his gloves, it seems.” Harwin suggested with a smile.

Rhaenyra paused, and then wagged her finger at him decidedly. “I think I’m going to like you as brother-in-law, Ser Harwin.”

“What happened next? How did you get here?” You asked, motioning for her to sit beside you on the velvet seat.

“Father stormed into my room soon after, I believe one of the guards alerted him to the sounds of distress. He ordered everyone out and started berating me for acting like a child, his face red and taut with anger, and then-“

Rhaenyra swallowed and cast her eyes down. “He started crying. So hard that he couldn’t control himself. He was sniffling and shaking and I had to go over to steady him. I didn’t even see him cry like that when mother and Baelon passed.”

“His voice barely above a whisper, he tells me he feels like he’s failed as a father. That he hardly knows you. Us. That we are the mirror images of mother and how that has made him keep a barrier up between us, to avoid any further heartbreak. But that in doing so, he’s refused any of the happiness that loving us could bring him. He doesn’t find any fault in Harwin, and he truly doesn’t care that much about the loss of an alliance with any of the other houses. You’re allowed more freedom in this choice than say, I would be. It’s because you didn’t go to him privately, that you hadn’t confided in him that this was your heart, that he reacted so poorly. And deep down he knew it was himself to blame for that.”

“I didn’t have time to respond to his confessions.” Rhaenyra’s eyes were cold and hardened now. “We heard the screams of Larys Strong in the corridors. We walked out together swiftly and encountered another of your servant girls, who recounted everything. I turned to father and told him I would head straight here to check on you. He nodded and waved me off. If I know him as well as I think I do, he headed straight for the dungeons. Ser Harwin, forgive me when I do not offer you condolences on your miserable weasel of a brother.”

“No offense taken, Princess.” Harwin said firmly. “He deserves whatever punishment the King sees fit. Truthfully, I don’t know in this instance who would be more merciful if allowed the chance to cast judgment, me or him. It might be better for Larys to be at the King’s mercy.”

With that being said, the room fell quiet. Wearily, you glanced out the window. The night was closing in, the sun taking its leave beneath the horizon.

“Our wedding was supposed to take place hours ago.” You said solemnly.

Harwin tsked at the sound of your disappointment. “I made you a promise to marry you tonight, my darling princess. I have every intention of keeping my word.” Harwin scooped you up in arms, flashing you a brilliant smile when you squealed with delight. Rhaenyra shook her head at the two of you, even though she was smiling too. She opened the door and bowed dramatically, her arms directing you outside.

“After you, Lord and Lady Strong.”

@vainillasmil157

@gimalo135

@evyiione

[1tsjusty0u]

hehe...

revali, ezlo, canon botw link, siffrin, asriel and odile for blorbo bingo :]

INTERESTING SELECTION..!!

hes both a really funny character but also genuinely well written and the way the writers tried? to resolve his whole thing sucks to me honestly. its not/shouldnt be about having revali accept link as the hero/link needing to prove himself on some scale its about revali needing to prove himself to well, himself. + the layers of. whatever him and links dynamic is. the fandom just treats him either as a mean-spirited loser/someone unjustly needing link to prove himself/just mean in general, or just a plain loser which to be fair he Is a loser but he has Multitudes!!! i never see the more serious aspects of his character- his character is portrayed as serious Sometimes but its not in relation to himself if that makes sense? also with the loser depiction they make it like. a central character trait? i dont know how to describe it its like. they either make him dumber than he actually is for comedy or something? or it ties into the mean thing. also theres this

EZLO!!!! funny old man!!! i like the hat aspect and how he was originally a minish and accidentally helped? vaati. its just unfortunately i dont think about him much </3

haha. hahahHhaahshHEHYAHSDHSAHAHAHAHAHAHHA AHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAGHA oguh ok im normal now 👍anyways. god ok so, i should explain that most of the above? applies Specifically to pre-calamity canon link. post-calamity does have Some brainrot but it has much less of a grip on me. also i actually know Why im brainrotted to him specifically however thats a secret for now! anyways its. specifically its the way he constantly masks/his dynamics with everyone else not really fitting in, how instead of taking the role he may or may not have been forced into with stride he actively struggles with it and the impact it has on how people view him and how he views himself. on this level i like to completely ignore certain aspects of canon + aoc because it feels like the writers genuinely try to make him the Perfect Awesome Hero + trying to make everything he does revolve around zelda instead of being. A Character. and on this level as well the fandom interpretations...,,,,,, so for pre cal they . not never its 90% of the time they dont get it right they genuinely make him the perfect awesome hero and actually lives to serve zelda/make him just. gross?? like deep voice oOoo suave perfect always sweeping the floor but still has those secret juicy problems its. sighs gang chat even cmon. ITS LIKE THE .

THIS ^ WHY DO THEY DO THIS. as for the 10% rest of interpretations its hard to describe as there isnt actually much of a common thread between them, in the end though it still isnt truly On Point. its possible im picky which yes i am but in the end it always feels like theres an aspect of the above image in his character in fanfics intentional or not, and they never seem to. critique it in a way? which completely fair you never have to center on something/mention it but its just. gestures wildly. sighs. as for post calamity i also dont like most of the interpretations but also its so much less worse. the only one that i think is Truly Honestly incorrect is link wanting/choosing to stay/follow zelda after freeing her, having it portrayed as he always didnt mind/even liked it. it just puts him into the same situation he was before/feels less like an actual genuine choice and more along the lines of it being chosen for him + once again revolving around zelda entirely rather than having his own thoughts and feelings no matter how 'wrong' or 'bad'.

OGUH ALRIGHT SO. ok so. for context; start again a prologue and in stars and time are two different games with two different siffrins per say- i think about them each differently (its like theyre aus of each other) and . theres a Reason for that, both meta(?)ly/personally and also. theres a reason in isat however thats the most major possible spoilers you can conceive of thats easily missable so. for the purposes of today, im guessing you mean isat siffrin!!! because there is a difference. ANYWAYS. this ones complicated for me personally because i genuinely Used to be brainrotted about them + i liked them a ton (personal reasons and also catharsis). once isat came out though, it . actually cured my brainrot </3 . theres new(ish) themes and character dynamics/thoughts and while i Can see the appeal for other people, for me personally i just have no attachment im so sorry.

ASRIEL!!!!!!!! THIS ONE IS ALSO COMPLICATED depending on if you think flowey and him are separate enough to be different characters. and. fun fact i genuinely like him a Lot More as flowey rather than "asriel" in a sense really just because of the true pacifist ending dialogue. he feels way too nice to me almost uwu in a way but also that isnt the entirety of his character gestures to the asriel boss fight and his dialogue as flowey. its. god ok its the way he was trying to hang on to anything he had left. asgore made him feel nothing toriel made him feel nothing (constantly watching her look for another human to take care of, another child to replace him until she finally forgets about him even though hes still there hes still here!! while toriel sees asriel and chara in every human that falls down and if they die shes failed asriel again,) papyrus mightve helped for a bit but like everyone else eventually apathy comes to settle in letting him feel nothing once again, alphys couldnt help him no one could help him hes seen these halls 100 times constantly daily and he wants to get out he cant be this anymore he wants to feel something!! anything!! he tried to die and he Did, deciding it wasnt worth it to live anymore, then discovering he could reset and load. he wanted what he had back, he wanted the ability to not be bored constantly to not know what comes next to feel something. chara is both the One Person who had yet to (unintentionally) "fail" flowey and the one person tied to his past who understands him. thats his sibling!!! toriel failed asgore failed the only person left is chara, and they cant fail. he remembers having so much fun with them!! he misses them because of the above and also because he has no one else. when he turns into asriel for lack of a better descriptor he's able to see things more clearly, recognizing that chara wasnt the bestest person ever and latching on to them as a solution was a choice made in anguish. in the genocide route he mentions that he had plans to do things on the surface with the souls but he says with chara around he wouldnt really mind/kind of drop his plans because chara is here!!! they can have fun again!!! theyre the only one who knows and understands what humans are truly like, what its like to be impaled by arrows (toriel caring for the next human child, forgetting about him) turning to dust and dying. they understand. they have to! also i should note i also love chara dearly and anyone who thinks theyre "evil" can die by my blade. anyways. hi . for the misinterpretations thing i think everyone mostly gets it right honestly i think people just tend to make him more "good" gestures to the uwu nice thing. OH and they also consider asriel to be the better flowey in a sense? like liking asriel for asriel but liking flowey for asriel rather than flowey. here just watch this for me ok. please i love you aromantism

LASTLY ODILE!!! i do like how shes the one to constantly sus out siffrin + having her own issues of family and belonging and having her own goal. + old lady win. that being said i also do not think about her a lot i am sorry. shes neat just not for me.

[blushblushbear]

OMG YOU'RE BACK!!! (It's been so long you last posted that i thought you left the fandom).

Well, since we can make requests again, can I ask for protective headcanons for Scale and Cole pls? (if you don't want to do it's fine, feel free to ignore, and welcome back <3).

Eyyy, it's me bby!!

Cole:

Honestly probably the most protective of the boys

Not that he'd let you know that

Gets crazy jealous and crazy protective

If anyone says anything rude to you, you bet he's either standing behind you or just around a corner glaring them down

While you're around he's fine to just use his natural creepiness to intimidate people into backing down

But rest assured, he is adding them to his list...

And depending how egregious their transgression was, they might be moved straight to the top of said list

But that's just him being protective of you towards other people

But there are many dangers in this world a marshmallow could face that aren't people

Like I stated before he acts very calm and cool the majority of the time-- brushing off any body guard accusations and denying he did anything

But all that cool goes completely out the window if you are ever in mortal danger in front of him

He is loud, he is aggressive, he's a little bit violent

He also can't help but freak out

You getting hurt or worse is his literally his nightmare and losing you in an capacity is his only real free

Get ready to be held a little too tight as he mumbles away, completely lost in panicked thought

Once he's composed again he will very shyly deny that he ever lost his cool that much in the first place

But he will also hold you close again at random later and tell you that you're not allowed to get hurt, got it?

Frightened kitty. Violent kitty. Tense kitty.

Scale:

Don't ever tell Cole you said or thought this, but him and Scale are a lot alike lmao

Scale is probably the second most protective boy in the cast

But he's definitely not as possessive or unhinged lmao

He's more nervously concerned

He sees you trip and catches you and is all "dorky and worried"

Yes. He considers concern dorky. He is an assassin. They don't DO concern...

At least he usually doesn't

But with you he turns into a fretting mother hen at a pin drop

And then gets really embarrassed that he did

He has been training specifically to keep you safe

Reflexes to catch you when you fall

Awareness of your surroundings to notice any danger before it has a chance to come near you

First aid and CPR, just in case

He is also a stand behind you menacingly type

But unlike Cole, he is not as quiet about it

Not that he's screaming or anything, but he will tell someone to piss off

He also will pull out one of his blades to really send the message home

Def one of the types to bridal carry you if you hurt yourself or are feeling weak

He also always makes sure you're wearing a seat belt (which half the time he doesn't even do himself)

There are a lot of dangers out there, but he's always watching out for you, having your back from the shadows whether you know it or not