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lisafication · 6 months

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This post is uh, extremely normal I swear

So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game.

That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.

That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.

Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.

Content Warnings: …Yes?

(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)

This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.

With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.

She’s excited, are you?

It’s All About Ashley

It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.

But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.

Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.

In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.

Yeah, exactly like that!

And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.

She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing

Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.

While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!

I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.

If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.

This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…

Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.

While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.

We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.

Once Upon A Lousy Life…

THE END

And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!

For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.

We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.

This is her victory, surely?

Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.

But she's still not so sure.

He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.

Look how happy she is!

While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.

I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3

What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…

She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.

This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.

Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!

There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.

Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.

This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.

Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her!

But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling.

That was not a joke.

Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception

The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.

Let me explain.

You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.

The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.

It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw

You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.

You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.

But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?

Ashley wants to investigate the music!

Andrew disapproves…

…Or does he?!

Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).

This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle!

But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:

The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.

But, well, is that the case?

You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.

Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?

……

The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.

In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.

She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.

Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.

I adore this phrasing

There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to.

Andrew, you are like ten years old.

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.

But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.

A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.

It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him.

Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.

He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.

At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.

----(See reblogs for the second half)

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #andrew graves #ashley graves #spoilers #multipost

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pastelunicornrainbowlove · 2 years

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If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.

Woodrow Wilson

#quote #quotes #dailyquote #dailyquotes #themedquote #themedquotes #kawttonkandii #dogquote #dogquotes #doggo #dog #pupper #face #conscience #examine #woodrow wilson

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mvniro · 4 months

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. . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 SPREAD YOUR WINGS TO TAKE POSSESSION OF WHAT'S YOUR'S ; a fyodor dostoyevsky fic.❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . holy shit i need to make an actual smut comeback. :/ @averagebsdenjoyer give your kids now.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; politician!fyodor, fem!reader, escort!reader, exstripper!reader, nsfw, boob biting, breast fucking, angst in some way and yeah that all i remember.

sin and lust ran around as they swirled with the wind, settled on top of the preety drinks and flowed inside the mouth of the one drinking, settling on their conscience before pulling out their courage to do what one wouldn't do normally and when the courage blindly took over and buried every emotion within, sin and lust giggled.

"here is your drink," you look over your shoulder to look at the bartender handling a customer their large glass of vodka, but before the customer could feel your eyes on them, you look back towards the dance floor again to continue observing the many intoxicated and sober bodies dancing, gridning against each other and doing lord knows what for the gobo lights above aren't really helping to look at each person and where their hands are.

you pull the silk robe closer to your body to make sure it is covering atleast till your midthighs as below them the eyes of those curious could only see your fishnet stockings and heels, kicking your legs as you hum for your customer to be here, but when you glanced at your phone screen a minute ago, you were waved at by disappointment of knowing the time and that he won't be here before half an hour, at his usual time.

being punctual is his style after all, the thought makes you smile which soon disappears when you feel perverted eyes of those around you trying to check you out and to find faults in your tied around robe to catch a glimpse of your skin which is meant to be reserved only for the man who can rival the greatest genius and defeat him pathetically.

you stand up from the stool with a small frown tugging at your lips, taking your phone from the black counter before you saunter away and on your way through the sidelines to avoid bumping into the slaves of lust and sin, your hand felt the tickling feeling as your phone vibrated and it felt the same when the man you are waiting for talks to you and you feel the same ticklish feeling in your stomach that your hand had the chance to experience right now.

tilting your head down to glance at the screen which illuminated to bring you hope and excitement, you read over the message quickly and cautiously yet it would've been fine even if you didn't since it seems as if you have it memorized like a prayer. the message which informed you of the arrival of the man in a few minutes.

you quickly turned on your heels to walk towards the bar again and when the dirt of perverted gazes tried to fall on your body, the shield of reassurance protected you from it. reassurance in the sense that the man who practically has ownership in a sense over you will be here quite soon, your hands work like those of a skilled craftsman as you put a bottle of dom perignon champagne in a bucket filled with ice while grabbing a white wine glass with the other hand before you make your way upstairs using the elevator permitted for staff and vip's only.

the bucket is heavy and hence why you placed it on the floor as soon as the elevator doors closed with you inside it, you turned to look and examine your reflection in the mirror behind to deem yourself ready to meet him. your leg bounced to excrete some ounces of excitement and anticipation out of your body.

as the elevator door opens to lead you into the world of lewd luxury, the stars from through the glassed walls twinkle in the sky but the moon pays them no heed and rather gazed down at the group of black cars driving on the empty roads for who else if not the rare percentage would drive on the streets at midnight, not those with tiring routines and families and not those with sorrows and despair but those who rules the night, the twinkling of the stars being the same as the shine of the silver ring on the svelte finger of the one who sat in the middle car.

the black coating of the car pays their respect to the sheet of black spreading over the night sky as if informing the sky that they aren't the rulers of night but the svelte man sitting in one of those five automobiles is, the same man due to whom your heart began to practice gymnastics and is now performing the flips etc., your futile attempts to calm your excited heart had only made your task of scanning your card on the door to unlock it difficult.

your foot took the lead by nudging the door to open after which you stepped in and immediately took off your heels, you closed the door behind you by nudging it against the door. the moment you place your feet on the soft red carpet, a gasp almost too inaudible had left your lips for the sensation traveled through the soles of your feet to your arms.

you had cleaned the table, the mirror to make sure it remains free of stains, lipstick marks and scratches for the man you serve had his face shaped by god himself who made sure to make the angels look at him in admiration of him and his creation and so, is it not appropriate to serve the perfect man (in your eyes) with the same perfection he always wears on his body?

your hands glided over the leather purple couch to smooth it of its roughness if there is any present as the staff before you made sure to deem this room appropriate for you, the maiden, and now you are doing the same for the swan you stumbled upon once but what made the swan stand out was it wasn't the traditional white one but a black one. yet it served grace as generously, if not more, as the white swan.

you are the ballerina with the way your feet glided across the room from one corner to other as you made sure to scan and evict any little flaw you find in it and after a few minutes when the room was utterly begging for the man it got ready for to grace it with his presence though the room had the wind flowing through the opened window as it's comfort when you began to wear your heels again, the see through white curtains covering the opened windows flowed inwards a bit to distract the room from its temporary dolour when your hands held the edge of the door to pull it with you to close the door as you left.

your phone screen illuminated with brightness of euphoria and as the light fell on your skin, you found your heart get more excited for perhaps your phone's brightness falling on your face in the dim hallway had transferred its euphoria inside you and maybe this theory could be taken to explain why you felt a sudden desperation to reach the entrance as soon as possible to be the first one on whom his eyes fall upon.

and so, in this state of frantic joy, you opted for the stairs instead, skipping one at a time as you quickly skipped downwards with only one goal in your mind ; to reach the bottom of the staircase to make your heart be even more frantic in anticipation and as soon as you skipped over the last step, you did not continue your journey forwards towards the main entrance which is usually where the entry is permitted from but the man we are talking about is not a ordinary man.

status wise, intelligence wise and lookwise -- even adonis would feel green in envy and feel the nimble hands of insecurities seduce him when he gazes into those purple pools of hypnosis which are far more powerful then any spell or magical orbs.

but what does he not know that you do? what makes your head raise high in pride of knowing the secret that not even adonis knows about the man he would surely envy?

the not so ordinary man became one after trials and errors and practices and more practices till he become one with the soul of a mad artist who painted with his fingers and when he saw the absence of red on his palette, he was driven to stab his finger and use his own blood as paint, the not so ordinary man who entered every time from a different route and it made you question how he knows more about this place then you, someone whose nights and evenings pass here, does.

so to explain why you were going towards the back doors can be explained with the childish desire to catch him off guard, impress him by being one step ahead of him which happens once in a blue moon and maybe this is why he always played the part of the passionate charecter who loved his passion even after said passion wounded him and left him unable to walk into the same field again.

you are said passion and you hurt him by making it hard for other women to be on the same caliber as you, to be as pretty as you in his eyes and to make him crave the time of the day to spend with them the way he does with you.

your hands find themselves seeking comfort by pinching on your forearm as you stand patiently infront of the two big doors with bulky men on either side who greet the celebrities and other important and rich figures who can not enter through the front entrance but when minutes pass by with the ticking of the clock, your mind scrambles to pinpoint a reason for his absence after his appointed time had passed and after the most excruciating five minutes of standing in the middle of the stage of loneliness and being guided across it by your rationality, your phone beeps and you do not even need to tilt your head down to look at it to know what it says, the announcement of the victory of the man once again.

it is when you turned around that you were approached by his guard who bowed, handed you a shopping bag of an expensive brand and left as if he had been performing an act with the way his movements were precise, not an ounce of confusion in his movements but you were the opposite.

perplexity told you to tilt your head down to examine the bag on whose handle was a shining ring attached with a paper, you made your way towards the elevator while wearing the ring in your ring finger for the presence of the diamond wasn't your source of confusion as the man had told you last night of his desire to give you the ultimate gift, his proof of his possession over you and with the way the lights of the elevator made the ring glimmer, the man clearly didn't care enough to take your refusal of being gifted such an expensive ring, into consideration.

the paper which you handled with perfect fragility made you wonder how he never felt worry and burden when handling and treating you for with every movement of your finger, your fear of ruining the paper only grew but when it finally opened to show you what was written in it, your worries and fears left and were instead replaced by the strong adoration which dangerously sat close to your rationality.

in the paper, were simple but firm words which left no room for confusion with the way they were so clear, the words read ; 'do not open the bag until an hour before i return tomorrow and if you do, it would be disappointing for me to know how my angel went against me. be good like you always were, for me and only for me always, angel.'

the elevator doors opened but you didn't step out, expectations of the man who is the expectation of god himself, rested its hand on your shoulders and flicked at your heart before it pushed you forwards slightly to make you step out and you did, blinking, you placed the paper inside the bag without looking down at what it contained.

your heart thumped, blood rushed through your veins and your hand fixed for any imperfections varying from any possible ruffles in your silk robe to any stray strand of hair that could've gone out of place during your entire journey to the entrance and back upstairs again.

you stopped, closed your eyes to be in peace for a short moment while you take a deep breath before opening your eyes again and unlocking the door using your card.

"the man of great promises has wowed the crowd again with his extreme ethics and mannerisms and with the results of today's conference, it is safe to assume that fyodor dostoyevsky and his party will be the one thriving on top in the upcoming elections next year, what do you think? --"

the voice of the television was lowered using the remote when the man heard the door open and he immediately looked at who entered not because he wanted to know who entered, he already did, but because his purple irises were dying to catch a glimpse of you.

"mr.dostoyevsky," your voice always sounded so soft and tempting whenever it pronounced his name, you were born to call his name, weren't you? you closed the door behind you as you approach him.

and there is he who killed his former self to be this being of perfection, killed his flaws to paint over them with the pride of being perceived as flawless instead and the man whose grace is in his smile and the pigment of his irises.

the sight of the man sitting with one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped on the armrest of the couch on which his cheek rested as he silently checked you out, always made you acknowledge your pussy clenching around nothing but tonight there is no room for mistakes and for imperfections for if its your last night serving the man, you want it to be perfect and leave an imprint on his heart so strong that no one else can recreate this scene and this night.

the stakes has never been higher, it's everything on the line tonight. it's the promise to yourself to show this man that no one can compare to you as well like how none can compare to him but he knew that, ever since your second night of serving him. he has known and lived with the fact since then.

"my angel." voice flowed like the waves of an ocean, peaceful yet powerful. and did it make you the fish swaying with the waves as you took the bottle of dom perignon and the white wine glass before approaching him? maybe it did but perhaps you are the leaf blowing with the wind which is fyodor. always so ready to flow in whichever direction he leads you to.

the man ruling your heart and thoughts wore a black turtle neck tucked in black pants and a white jacket over it which was falling on his elbows now, the purple lights falling onto his face gave him the crown to make the mortals of imperfections to fawn over his greatness. he raised his hand before bending his index finger to beckon you over, running a hand through his hair as he saw you slowly saunter towards him like a tiger walking towards the unsuspecting swan only for the swan to fly away.

fyodor sat straight before spreading his legs apart and you took your seat on the carpeted floor, between his legs as you opened the bottle and poured him his favorite drink into the glass before you raised yourself on your knees and gently brought the glass near his lips.

none made the effort to talk for this fleeting silence should be felt in every pore before the beginning of the night which both look forwards to.

a gulp containing your deepest desires was pushed down your throat when fyodor parted his lips and wrapped his hand around your's, tilting the glass to allow the liquid to flow into his mouth, does he not know how his simple action is affecting you?

he does or else he wouldn't had pushed the glass towards your lips, "drink, you like it, don't you?"

and who are you to refuse him who is staring down at you with a glint of gentleness you are so depraved of?

parting your lips with the intention of allowing him to pour the drink into your mouth was intrupted by the light shining and reflecting the diamond of the ring on his ring finger, the design not varying much if compared to your's and this intruption resulted in you raising your other hand to stop his hand from tilting the glass towards your mouth, your hand felt unfortunately like a succor in times like this, nights lights this where your heart became one with the gnawing defeatist in the back of your mind.

"excuse my sharp tongue but have you no shame, mr.dostoyevsky?" what began with a saccharine tone is the sentence whose meaning and purpose is mockery to soothe the wound in your own heart by craving shallow ones in his own.

"you are to be married tomorrow yet you gift me a ring? is the politics you are such a master of, being pulled in your real life as well? what do you attempt to prove by wearing a ring similar to this one?" you tilt your head in a silent jeering way but had he been the one to allow someone else to have the upper hand on him?

no, absolutely not. for fyodor dostoyevsky doesn't work that way. he doesn't work according to others but makes a plan so impeccable that nature bends itself to work according to him.

the hand of the black swan got a hold of your jaw which he tilted upwards before pouring the drink into your mouth and you wonder if politicians have mastered the act of pretense more then actors or why would his eyes hold adoration for a man of his caliber and especially for someone like you?

"what is shame after all angel? we are all born shameless, are we not?" the spokesperson of his party began but not in a tone of smartness and respect but in one which loosely hangs around the thin line of adoration in the form of a coo and amusement in the form of a playful smile.

"we develop shame, do we not?" you retort though your resolve isn't worthy of being called one for the way your irises followed fyodor's thumb which caressed your bottom lip.

"i am shameless then i suppose? but what's so wrong in being shameless for an angel like you? you, my cruel beauty, makes me feel as if i am drunk. one look at you and the world is blurry for me. i am the politician but you are my greed." words weren't words.

voice of a siren, the face of a swan but the determination of the devil. sumptuous and unreal, he is the greatest creation of god and the greatest envy to mankind. for fyodor is simply the miracle which can never occur again.

the words leaving his lips wrapped around your body and stopped you from looking away from him. the politician and his greed.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder till the beholder is the beauty.

the black swan is the black swan till you catch a glimpse of the tiny white spot on the back of his wings and then you start to wonder of who he was before being this man who wore perfection like his second skin and this curiosity makes fyodor weak in his knees.

to be desired is one thing. to be wanting to see him in his rawest form is another.

"stop flattering me mr.dostoyevsky. tell me what can i do to make your last night with me unforgettable." you smile up at him before you felt fyodor's hand slip down towards your throat before he gripped it, gently for he never treated the greed he chased after wrongly, before pulling you towards him as your hands fell on his thighs to offer some stabilization to yourself.

"last night? indeed i am one with politics for one lone reason. do you want to know what it is?" he asked, kissing the tip of his index finger before he placed it against your painted lips.

"yes mr.dostoyevsky." you breath out before parting your lips to take his finger in your mouth, swiring your tongue around its length and imagining it to be his dick. fyodor smirked, eyes narrowing in amusement.

"because no one knows what i know. they know and believe what i want them to, including you." fyodor shuts his eyes close as he groans lowly, the way your inner cheeks could be felt by every inch of his finger when you sucked on it made blood rush to his cock.

"uh huh. won't ya be a doll and tell me about it mr.dostoyevsky?" you blink, looking up at him through under your lashes and due to his finger in your mouth, your voice and words come out muffled and lord, oh lord, is this making fyodor go crazy.

"doll? am i your doll angel?" fyodor smiled down at you as he took his finger out to let you talk, lithe hands now working to untie the knot on your robe.

"i only had one doll in my life and even that was stolen by a bully. so to call you doll is to make it clear to myself that you, --" you stop to gulp as the robe is gently pulled off your shoulder and you remain in your violet lingere set.

"go on angel." fyodor whispered in mocking encouragement as if he didn't know the effect his fingers kneading into your shoulders is having on you.

" -- though you never actually belonged to me, would be taken away from me as well." you complete your words bitterly but it is soon forgotten when fyodor takes one of your hands to place it on top of his hardened cock.

"don't belong to you? angel no one could make me hard unless its you." he rasped out, closing his eyes as you caressed his clothed dick with your fingers while you looked up to drink in his reaction.

"don't marry tomorrow then mr.dostoyevsky, please? i would hate to see you returning as someone else's man and i would hate it even more to be assigned to someone else." you tell, eyes softening as you admit your feelings to him who looked down at you before grasping your jaw and caressing the curve.

"you trust me, don't you, angel?" he asked and for a moment, fyodor's eyes fell on the tv screen which showed his conference from today morning in which he is seen walking up the stage as his black suit made him look posh and handsome.

"what if i didn't mr.dostoyevsky?" you try not to smile by biting your inner cheek for the man above you has the ability to turn your anger towards him into vapor but you calling his name grabbed fyodor's attention as he looked down at you again and when he smiled, you were reminded why you felt so bitter the entire day, why you wanted to rush down to be the first one to greet him and why you jeered at him just now ; the gentle and seductive smile and those nonchalant eyes as if no one could touch him is what made you freeze the first time as you stared at him before realizing that the man you were serving for all these nights is the one you fell for.

"that's a pity but i still want you to have some faith in me, to trust me and sign a few papers. can my angel do that for me?"

'my angel' is a term which made you go weak in the knees, your heart fluttered as it poked fun at your brain and proudly exclaimed its victory and you melted, nodding.

for you weren't 'his angel' if you didn't have blind faith in him and his action and if you didn't think of him to be greater then the seven wonders of the world.

bitterness was taken over by love and admiration. jealousy was over thrown by lust and a need of praises.

"let me pleasure you, mr.dostoyevsky. you worked so hard today, looked so preety today." your hand traced his belt before you begin to unbuckle it and fyodor gave you all the freedom you required by spreading his legs as his arms went around the back of the couch he is seated on.

"i looked preety?" fyodor asked in amusement as he looked down at you with one eyebrow cocked, his stomach felt like it was in the middle of a hurricane of butterflies when you pulled his zipper down after allowing his cock free from the shackles of the belt.

"the prettiest and smartest." you smile, trying not to chuckle as you look up at him, you couldn't focus on anything else when fyodor leaned down towards you, head tilted.

"are you talking about yourself angel?" fyodor teased, to hide the pale pink flush on his cheeks by flicking your cheek with his finger and it was your turn to be hugged and have shyness to cling to you.

instinctly, you felt your body leaning the tiniest bit forwards to feel more of his touch on your skin.

"i was talking about you mr.dostoyevsky." you mumble, looking at him who playfully widened his eyes before his eyes looked down at your clevage and then back at your eyes.

eyes who saw too much desire of others towards him were now filled with it themselves as he let his eyes linger onto your lips and wonder how would it feel to kiss you. then as if your clevage asked for attention, a imaginary force tapped fyodor and reminded him about your breasts which he glanced down at and the next movement of his hand tapping at the strip of your bra had you gulping.

"take it off for me, angel?" fyodor's voice is low, soft yet it isn't nervous in the slightest. he knows what he is asking for and he knows what your answer will be.

"why should i?" you raise your eyebrows at the man who snickered before his supple fingers took the leadership by hooking itself under your bra strap and pulling it before letting it smack against your skin.

soft gasp gave rise to titillation to transform into utter and raw intoxication. the soft pout on your lip as you looked up at fyodor made him realise the growing frustration of his hardened dick.

"because i am asking so, angel, do you really even need another reason?" he breathed out, leaning down to twirl a strand of your hair on his finger as his eyes refused to look away from your face.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you nearly mewl, why is this one man and his stare playing with the chord of your heart and giving arousal freedom to imagine whatever it wants to?

black, black swan who is tainting the white swan, why do you feel satisfied and not grief?

does it not satisfy you to see the white swan at your feet every night that you try to reach feats no one else could? for no one could do what fyodor dostoyevsky can to sum it up in brief.

"hm?" fyodor hummed before he smiled upon watching you clumsily fumble with your bra to remove it but the hard and hungry stare of the man is proving the task to be more difficult then what it originally is.

"please tell me how i can pleasure you." you did not need to tell twice for once the words left the cage that is your mouth, they were free and rioting in the form of being chanted multiple times in the back of fyodor's mind.

"oh shit, how can i marry someone else when this is all your doing?" fyodor pulls his dick out, lifting his hips to remove his pants till they are left hanging on his knees and his words were only being understood now when your eyes were staring straight at the hardened and angry dick dripping with precum.

"you say this but aren't you marrying someone else tomorrow?" you bite your lip in sudden pleasure when fyodor leaned forwards to pinch your nipple between his cold index finger and thumb.

"i am marrying tomorrow, yes." only giving a glimpse of itself, the black swan teases the nature and fyodor teases you with his vague answers -- they aren't vague to the normal ear but you who saw the reminants of the white swan within him loves to observe him the same way a marine biologist studies the biology within. it may kill you but lord, do you care when the addiction of figuring something in him out is the greatest satisfaction of them all.

"i've served married men before but you were someone i wished would always remain a bachelor, i am being unprofessional --"

"absolutely not." fyodor intrupted you as he tilted your head up to stare at him with his index finger on your chin before he told the declaration of lust within you and within him to begin taking over, "i love you showing possession over me. go on angel, let everyone passing by know who it is that can get me so worked up."

slender fingers traced the outline of your underboob, "gotta show everyone why you are my favorite, no? you are the only woman who ever touched me and you dare get upset with me?"

he playfully scoffed before fondling with your boob while your hands slithered up like wines to grab his cock which you pumped a few times -- all the while his eyes stayed on you and your's on him.

"mr.dostoyevsky, flattering will get you no where." you smiled, teasing the man who always left you a breathless mess and your toes curled when fyodor leaned down to lick below your lip before he planted a soft kiss. he always did it, kissing dangerously close to your lips but never your lips for the man did not want to have intercourse before marriage and this is what got you especially riled up. you were the one covered in his cum, tasted his cum, the first woman who gave him a blowjob and what not but you won't be the first woman to kiss him. ironic.

"and actions will?" fyodor smirked before tapping your other, neglected boob and you took the cue, your hand abandoned his cock to hold your boobs and push them to give him the invitation.

fyodor placed his dick between the valley of your boobs which would soon be experiencing the ending of the drought.

"actions will." you confirm though if compared to him, your voice is breathless and as you push your boobs together to trap his dick between your flesh, he too, felt the same hand of desire pulling the breath out of his throat harshly.

you began to move up and down as your hands made sure to hold your boobs close in a way that squeezes his dick between them and try to imitate the way it would probably feel to have your walls clamping around him and the pleasure builded up slowly. fyodor groaned and ran a hand through his hair before he gripped the roots and tilted his head back.

a shaky hissed left his lip when you brought your face down to kiss his sensitive tip before you licked it.

fyodor's eyes remained screwed shut as he brought his hand forwards to wrap it around the base of his cock and pump it to stimulate even more pleasure.

your eyes widened and lips parted, staring up in admiration and adoration at the man whose hair fell and sticked to his forehead, eyes may have remained closed but the parted lips of his which gave way to the hisses and grunts of pleasure was the main attraction anyway.

you then looked down to see the tip of his dick disappear between where your boobs met before appearing again and the cycle repeated, the sight of eroticism making you clench your own thighs and move up and down slightly to feel the fabric of your panties press up against your aching cunt.

fyodor opened his eyes, his pace increased and with the other hand, he traced shapes on your collarbone before grabbing your shoulder in a strong grip as he gasped softly, ropes of cum shooting out and painting the canvas of your skin, the cum trailed down your boob before nestling against your nipple.

black swan, oh, black swan, falling victim to your desires?

he is.

how does it feel to be caressed by the very same emotions you once tried to kill within you, oh, black swan, the lover.

fyodor's fingers wrapped around your wrist before he pulled you up into his lap, mouth immediately attacking your nipple as he sucked on it, nibbled and only got more encouraged when you whined out, your hand couldn't stop itself from following the demand of your heart which told it clearly to grab his hair in a gentle grip, the action had fyodor humming in approval.

the other hand played with the cum dripping down your chest before you swiped some of it with your finger to put it in your mouth and suck it, looking at fyodor with faux innocence and the sight of the man gulping made you lick your lips.

white swan, oh, white swan, seducing the black swan is your job not your life purpose yet why do you work so hard as if it's your only purpose?

black swan, be flawless and love her and let the white swan be possessive over you.

and white swan, be the one to look past this fake flawless-ness and watch the otherworldly being submit to his humanity.

fyodor's teeth sinked down on your flesh not hard enough to cause a serious or painful injury but just hard enough to imprint his teeth mark on your boob, which he licked afterwards in a cheap apology to soothe the pain. but nothing about the man himself is cheap so even if his attempt is considered as cheap, the emotions it sturred inside you were rich in every way.

fyodor then leaned back, his fingers spread the cum on your chest before he scooped some up on the tip of his index finger and brought it up to your lips which you parted to let him push his finger into it, resting it just above your wet appendage and pressing down a bit as his eyes got serious to lead to the beginning of the momentous event.

"before anything else, let me tell you what to expect tomorrow. it'll surely be a eventful day, no?" fyodor's amused smile was met with your eyes being blinked once due to the obstruction in the form of his slender finger inside your mouth but before he continued further, it is absolutely important to know why he sticked his finger into your mouth.

the black swan spreads it's wing to charm the white swan, to enthrall it before it brought its magnificent show to an end. the reason for this boastful action was to gather the utmost attention of preety white swan.

"you won't need to do much, angel. just make a decision tomorrow. there will be two documents and it's all on you to either sign it or not." and he finally pulled his finger out when your eyes pleaded him to let you speak.

"will you come tomorrow, mr.dostoyevsky?" your voice came out raspy, breathless and it cracked, not due to sadness but due to the numbing effect his fingers pressing down on your tongue had on you.

"do you want me to?" he pushed himself to be a bit near you while he removed his jacket and placed it over your shoulder, expertly avoiding having the cloth collide with his cum still dripping down your collarbones and chest.

"i do." you confirm to let the man raise his eyebrows cockily but the sight doesn't annoy nor humiliate you but makes your heart swell in adoration, your eyes falling on your bare shoulders which were now covered with his jacket.

and what pain is plucking it's own feathers when the white swan looks so good with your feathers around its head like a crown, oh black swan? the satisfaction is greater then the pain for you, no?

"wear this. my heart is your's anyways so why not take my jacket as well?"

you snorted, rolling your eyes.

"mr.dostoyevsky, i think you should stick to politics." you joked but the white swan was the earlier stages of the black swan, what white swan does, black swan already did.

"and i think you should stick by my side. don't you, as well? i hope you make a choice you won't regret tomorrow angel." cruel.

oh cruel man, why do you speak so seriously yet kiss your angel's jaw at the same time as if you don't want her to focus on your words but just on the feather like feeling of your lips on her skin for the slightest second.

cruel, cruel man yet oh so ethereal too.

"once again, i'll remind you that two documents will be offered to you and it's your choice to either sign them or tear them. your actions tomorrow will change things greatly, angel." the cruelty continued of the temptation packed into the body of the russian man and his each touch ignited a sense of euphoria on your skin and his words were left with half given attention.

till the event he had foreseen since long ago came to life.

you wrapped fyodor's jacket tighter on your body, smiling to yourself as it still smelled like him. his rich cologne still lingered on the jacket and hugged you to provide you with a sense of stability in the otherwise unusually quite club an hour before its usual opening time. the bag he gifted you yesterday contained a white lacy lingerie set though the curiosity remains to haunt your thoughts with the question -- is this a farewell gift or can you really expect to see him tonight as well?

to see the bustling and lively place look so quiet as staff quickly worked to clean it and organize everything for another night of unconfined emotions is a sight you got used to but still felt weirded out with as your undivided attention went to every inch of the place and noticed every inch which would usually be crowded.

though the way someone bumped into you to make you stumble a few steps forwards was quick to make you scowl and forget about the club and its loneliness just one hour before its opening, you turned to look at her. the hunter and the bully.

the manager and the most sought-after stripper of the club.

"we found you at last!" she rolled her eyes in a exaggerated fashion and you did the same to let her know the annoyance is mutual.

"girls." the clearing of the throat of the manager made both of you to immediately snap your heads towards him who nodded once in what seemed like satisfaction at the obedience and discipline shown.

"mr. fyodor dostoyevsky just submitted his last cheque to our club. a last donation cheque. you know what it means, don't you?" he didn't ask to anyone in particular but the girl beside him widened her eyes in mild surprise.

"he won't be coming back? did he find a new club or?" she asked the manager but you took his chance to reply, answering,

"he must've gotten married by now. he is a married man. he won't mingle with the likes of us anymore." you clutch the hem of his jacket as you raise your eyes to look at your manager, "who will i be assigned to next?"

taken aback by your rapid ability to move on and past the man you've you've serving for the past six months or so, the manager took a moment to gather himself before he nodded but before he could let a word out, the attention was grabbed by fyodor's secretary who walked with two guard behind.

you watched for the next five minutes with utter confusion at the manager and secretary exchanging greetings and words before the manager nodded and stepped aside to let the messenger of the man you love to walk towards you, he greeted you and you reciprocated before he dropped the pin in the lake.

"sir told me to directly give these papers to you." the secretary bowed before offering you a file and a pen he came with and took a step back.

his words made sense now. but they didn't.

you understood the overall situation but it was only the outer layer and the inner layer is yet to be discovered but how? when you don't know which decision will enable you to do so.

and what did you do in times of dilemma?

you did what you were told to many times, to put your trust in the black swan and watch him pull the strings without moving much other then a single finger of his hand.

you anxiously pulled on the sleeve of the white jacket before approaching the nearest hard surface which happened to be the bar counter before you opened the file and signed the first document on the signature space, doing the same with the other document.

this is a trial. a test. to not give in to your selfish or well instinctive desires to read or atleaat skim over the writings of the document is to prove your utmost faith in fyodor whose reward remained a mystery but the end results didn't matter while in the journey with fyodor.

"here." you softly utter and turn back to hand over the file to the secretary but to your surprise, your heart beats as you see fyodor approaching you with rushed steps, one hand loosening the tie around his neck.

but according to the news channels, he was supposed to be getting married at this hour, did he walk off from his wedding?

it's selfish. but the thought made your heart flutter and you couldn't help or overcome the nervousness that took over you.

". . . i trust you, i signed it mr.dostoyevsky." you inform and watch the man nod breathlessly and you wonder what's gotten into him with enough strength to take his breath away?

desire. utter raw desire.

"good, i declare you my wife from here on angel."

you saw the manager and fyodor's secretary widen their eyes before your eyes were forced to close when fyodor caught your wrist which holded the files and quickly pulled you towards him to slam his lips against your's, the papers flew out of your hands but fyodor didn't care.

the hunter watched the swans dance and looked at its partner who had dropped the pin in the lake, to see the latter capturing pictures without looking taken aback.

the manager watched with surprise as the bodyguards and secretary ushered people out of the entire floor.

while fyodor grabbed your waist to lift and place you on top of the counter, lips moving against your's before you parted your lips to whine but the opportunist took the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.

the girl walked forwards to grab the fallen down papers and she stood straight while keeping her eyes on said papers.

one was a marriage certificate and another was your official resignation letter from the club with the addition of the threat of fyodor's name attached next to your's. and anyone and everyone who worked close enough to the upper class society knows how foolish it is to claim their authority over someone or something whose name has the name of a strong influence next to it.

the girl, the bully, who was she infront of the power named fyodor dostoyevsky?

no one and it was made clear by the way she didn't protest when said man's guards ushered her away as well to let fyodor have the entire floor to himself. he rented it out after all.

"mr.dostoyevsky." you gasp when fyodor separated from you, his half lidded eyes was drawn to the string of saliva connecting your lips to his and he was overtaken by desire again which made him attack your lips ; a lick to your upper lip before he began to nibble on your bottom lip for a while till you pulled him closer by grabbing his black suit coat, fyodor pushed his tongue inside your mouth again and if french kissing is considered sexy then fyodor is certainly doing justice to the claim.

at the same time, his hand went down to unzip the jacket before he pushed it back a bit to flick his finger against your stomach.

fyodor separated from the comfort of your lips to lean towards your ear and whisper, "good choice angel but i thought you didn't trust me? yet here you are, signing the papers without even missing a beat, oh angel --" fyodor sighed out fondly yet his tone remained cocky and amused, " -- always such a good girl for me."

". . .you are crazy, mr.dostoyevsky. absolutely unbelievable." laughing in relief is a short term gesture before fyodor had picked you again and you wrapped your legs around his waist at the sudden action, with widened eyes you watched as he led you towards one of the couches and laid you down.

"told you i would be getting married today but perhaps i forgot to tell you that you were the bride. oh, how can i forget so?" he smiled down, his hand pulling his zip down.

. . . and you are the first woman to kiss him as well. the realization made you smile as you close your eyes.

"not a chance angel, open your eyes and watch your husband satisfy you."

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

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seaadc · 4 months

Note

hello!!! if you’re up for this, can i request any genshin men with a reader who feels like a horrible person because of things they’ve done in the past? i have a guilt complex lmaoooooo (i say lmao but it’s agony) (PEOPLE IN THE CROWD WITH A GUILT COMPLEX PUT YOUR HANDS UPPPP)

also this is a complete side note but i think this concept would be especially interesting with wrio since he’s always in the fortress or meropide, seeing people who have done wrong everyday in the fairly normal system (by jail standards) they have down there

guilt | wriothesley x reader

OH GOD THIS HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASKS FOR A WHILE NOW IM SO SORRY MY NOTIFS ARE ALWAYS FILLED UP AND I DONT SEE ASKS ANYMOREEE T-T

angst w fluff at the end, soft!wrio, he’s comforting youu, gets a bit suggestive at the end, no pronouns used but reader is referred to as ‘my love’ and ‘princess’

it’s nothing to be concerned about really, if you were a criminal and probably rotting in the fortress of meropide for— archons knows how long, you would’ve just let your conscience be the death of you.

but you aren’t! your not sitting around and laying in the fortress of doom meropide, thank the archons.

though you can’t help but think if the seven are laughing at you, quite literally. your state isn’t so stable as it seems..

wriothesley, your partner, had called sigewinne ages ago to check on your health status. although it was all negative, the tests, the results, the examinations, all negative.

there wasn’t anything wrong with you, so why is there an aching pain in your stomach whenever your brain just relapses back to the past, the time where you had done such unforgiving sins, you couldn’t even do a whole statement word for word on what you had done to those poor victims.

one of them, someone special to you. someone special that you had lost because of your own carelessness, someone you had lost because you were being selfish, someone who you wished to cherish for a lifetime— though fate is mocking you unfortunately.

and the pain, the inkling pain deep inside that you cant ignore, it’s annoying. it’s frustrating. it’s … sad.

it’s a pity to see someone like you, a nice person who only wished to improve themselves and hope for a better future. yet it seems celestia didn’t approve.

your longtime partner, wriothesley, had been worried for you. ever since you met, you were always dozing off, not focusing, you looked uncomfortable yet he couldn’t pinpoint what was actually wrong.

it was starting to piss him off, really. the way you doze off when he talks to you, when you two spend time together and your too busy in your own little world to pay attention to him.

wriothesley had decided to sit you down, like what any partner would do when they encounter a misunderstanding or a mishap. communication is key after all.

he couldn’t ever forget the look on your face, the day where you looked at him with such pitiful eyes and regretful ones while he just stared back at you with a stern look.

he feels pity, wriothesley feels pity. someone like him shouldn’t, so what is this he feels?

“tell me what’s been bugging you for months, [name].” wriothesley takes a deep breath, then exhales as you sat there, fidgeting with your fingers. “i didnt get the chance to ask you back then, since it was your privacy after all, hm?” he spoke firmly, his voice laced with curiosity and the tone where he just wants to know the truth.

just tell him, it wouldn’t be so hard. he’s your partner after all, you have every right to tell him so. “[name], i’m doing this to help you. you’re someone extremely precious to me and i can’t help myself just seeing you look so lost.” wriothesley explains, sighing deeply as he waits for your response.

how would he react? he’s the all mighty scary wriothesley after all. he’s known to have less mercy and sympathy on others. why tell? you’ll just embarrass yourself, you thought to yourself.

but you couldn’t. you couldn’t keep a secret, especially towards him. if he was any other people, a stranger, you would’ve kept it till the end of your life. but he’s not just a stranger.

he’s your partner, your loved one, your everything. wriothesley is someone you can trust, someone you care for. is it really worth keeping a secret from him?

you took a deep breath, letting the air get past your nostrils. “i have.. committed alot of unforgettable things in the past, someone like you wouldn’t like. someone like you wouldn’t appreciate.” you confessed, looking down and avoiding your beloved’s longing stare.

wriothesley looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. you? doing things that he couldn’t possibly imagine? “ever since i’ve started to open up a new path to walk on, the guilt in my chest still pains me. it’s almost eating me whole.” you continue.

he smiles at you, not a happy smile, a faint sad smile. he’s quite joyful about how you were guilty, and not like any other person who wouldnt even feel the slightest bit of empathy to what they’ve done wrong in the past.

this is the [name] he fell inlove with. the honest, confident, firm, one. there was no denying that wriothesley was hopelessly inlove with you. and he finds it lovingly amusing.

“if you regret it, then it’s okay. you don’t have to be in debt of a thing you regret on doing. if you truly feel guilt, then it just means your improving and want to be a better person my love.” he smiles, standing up and walking over to your seat, crouching before you as you were forced to look at him.

wriothesley holds your chin, going up to caress your cheeks coated with a red flush. “it may be your fault or not, but there will always be a way to fight back the sins of the past. you can get through it, i know you can.”

“your the strong and confident lady i love after all, hm?” he says with a grin, which makes your already flustered enough face go even more red.

you smile tenderly as he continues to caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch as you hear him chuckle lowly. wriothesley stands up straight, his hand now on your head as he ruffles your soft and silky hair.

wriothesley smirks, a teasing one. which means he’s probably going to say something just to tease you and to lighten up the mood a bit. “besides, i’m the only one who’s allowed to eat you whole, princess.”

made by @seaadc and @seaadc only !!

laughinf bc i made this at exactly 1am LMFAOO (i’m mentally unstable)

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blueskittlesart · 6 months

Note

what do you think his thoughts were at that moment?

this is an insane question and i am going rabid trying to answer it. for context this is about my. link dead on the fucking floor compilation. i. e. "what do you think went through link's mind as he all but DIED in precalamity botw."

i've thought about this before because. well obviously i have. look at how many times i've drawn it. i think context matters more than anything when examining that moment, because it's essentially the culmination of link's entire life up to that point in the worst way possible. you have a kid who has been raised to either win or die. those are his only two options. he's known this for basically as long as he can remember. either he defeats the calamity like he's supposed to and lives the rest of his life as an untouchable gold standard of soldier, as proof that all that pressure and pain he suffered worked, or he dies and dooms everyone he has ever loved to suffer horribly for the rest of their likely very short lives. And i do think he thought about this extensively, because how could you NOT, and i think that he probably believed that death was the most likely outcome. He was raised by a soldier, around soldiers, to be a soldier. soldiers are practical. soldiers strategize for the most likely scenario. they're not pessimistic, but they know how to look at a situation objectively and make a judgement call. Looking at link's situation objectively, it would have been obvious that he couldn't win. he was one kid, a 16-year-old boy, with maybe some above-average swordsmanship skills, but too many variables were missing. he couldn't hear the sword's voice. zelda's power wouldn't manifest. Hylia, who should have been there guiding them through this prophecy that SHE had supposedly inflicted on them, was completely silent. the divine beasts may have given him some hope, initially, but it was clear below the optimistic facade that hyrule was toying with very dangerous forces they didn't truly understand. I think he very likely went into that confrontation with the calamity anticipating death.

what's most interesting to me about the scene of link's death isn't that he fell, but WHERE he fell. because he didn't die in the sanctum, at the scene of the calamity's birth, as one might have expected. he died in an empty field along the road to a fortress that might have been able to protect him. Link, the bearer of the triforce of courage, the boy raised to die a martyr at the hands of the calamity, who had all but accepted his fate before the monster even showed its face, chose to run for safety, what some might call the coward's approach, instead of dying where he stood at ganon's hand. and it seems almost out of character at first, when you think about the person he was when he first met zelda, the person who would do anything in his power to show no weakness, to take the pain and the stress without flinching or faltering. the boy who so completely embodied that idea of "courage." but i think that zelda was the piece that changed him. If it had just been him at that final confrontation, maybe he wouldn't have run. maybe he would have been content to take his final stand and accept the death he'd been promised. but zelda insisted on being there, too. "there must be something i can do to help." and while link was a soldier, more than willing to engage in self-sacrifice, he was also a knight, sworn to protect this girl, and so he couldn't in good conscience sacrifice HER, too. so he ran. he tried to live, at a moment when he should have expected to die. and i think that was infinitely more courageous of him. to go against everything you have ever known and expected is infinitely scarier than accepting the outcome you've always anticipated. Running for his life (and for zelda's) was running into the unknown. escaping death in that way was defying everything he'd built himself up to be, everything everyone expected of him. Who is link if not the hero who faced the calamity with courage? what would he have to be if he could not be what was expected of him? in that moment, he made the choice to step into the unprophesized timeline, into a world where his actions were no longer defined by some great all-seeing power. and that was the most courageous move he could have made in that moment. he must have been terrified.

so what was going through his mind as he made his last stand? Honestly, i think the only thing on his mind was zelda. I don't think he cared about himself, his physical condition, any of it. I think he made the choice to run because of zelda and so he made the choice to take his final stand where he did because of her, too. just before zelda's power manifests, we see him try to continue fighting even inches from death, so gravely injured that he's unsteady on his feet, using his sword to keep himself standing. i think he must have known that he was in no condition to fight anymore, but he expected death to come for him at one point or another. what mattered was that she might live as long as he kept going. that's why he ran in the first place. not for himself, but because zelda was there and zelda didn't deserve to die like this. Even once zelda's power manifests, link only gives up and allows himself to fall once a beat or two has past--once he's sure that there really is no more danger. that she'll be okay, that she can make it past the fort and into relative safety even if he lets go here. He collapses then, and only then, after running miles through fields and woods, already gravely wounded, because in that moment he sees that the danger has past. a soldier's work is only done when there is nothing left to fight. a knight's work is only done when his princess is truly safe.

maybe he was relieved that he'd managed to hold on as long as he had. that he'd been able to find her some form of safety, in one way or another. maybe he worried about what manner of things would come for her once he was gone. maybe he wondered why she wouldn't just leave him and run for the fort. i'm sure there was a flash of regret in the back of his mind, for the family and friends he'd leave behind, for the people he'd let down, for the calamity he wasn't able to defeat. but this was the outcome he'd expected, even if it had come in a slightly different form. Even if now there was a girl hovering above him begging him to open his eyes.

#can you tell i never stop thinking about this specific moment? lol #i still think my loz dissertation line about this moment goes hard btw.#'There is a flash of golden light. He cannot raise his head to witness it. but it is warm. so warm. it feels like safety. like home.#He closes his eyes and breathes in. he is sure he is dying. This will be his last breath. At least it will be warm and soft and golden.'#like damn ok 2021 blue. you get it. go off #asks #zelda analysis

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bloodscribed · 1 month

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PROMPTS FROM VARIOUS LITERARY SOURCES.

I have not broken your heart — you have; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

Since we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter.

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where the madness lies?

To dream the impossible dream, that is my quest.

When we set the carriage afire, her flesh will be roasted, her bones will be charred: she will die an agonizing death.

What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.

I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.

The bird fights its way out of the egg.

I have no right to call myself one who knows.

We who bore the mark might well be considered by the rest of the world as strange, even as insane and dangerous.

I have no idea whether parents can be of help, and I do not blame mine.

At one time I had given much thought to why men were so very rarely capable of living for an ideal. Now I saw that many, no, all men were capable of dying for one.

I will not make a gift of myself, I must be won.

Examine a person closely enough and you know more about him than he does himself.

One cannot apologize for something fundamental, and a child feels and knows this as well and as deeply as any sage.

The tree does not die. It waits.

Fate and character are different names for the same idea.

As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.

A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.

All theory is gray, my friend. But forever green is the tree of life.

I am not omniscient, but I know a lot.

Everything transitory is but an image.

One mind is enough for a thousand hands.

Man errs, till he has ceased to strive.

Words are mere sound and smoke, dimming the heavenly light.

But you will never know another's heart, unless you are prepared to give yours too.

The Devil's in the house and can't get out.

Men's wretchedness in soothe I so deplore.

To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.

It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently.

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

When reason fails, the devil helps!

A hundred suspicions don't make a proof.

The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.

The fear of appearances is the first symptom of impotence.

Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.

Have you ever heard of 'a genius who had been stuffed and preserved'?

Every day I am fated to die.

All the activities of life seem unbearably dull to me and I have renounced them.

If you would be nice to me, I would gladly die for you this moment.

Having made an utter failure of my life, I found myself one day in the midst of my poverty and wretchedness, thinking about the female companions of my youth.

So, surrender to sleep at last. What a misery, keeping watch through the night, wide awake -- you’ll soon come up from under all your troubles.

Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth.

There is a time for making speeches, and a time for going to bed.

For there is nothing better in this world than that man and wife should be of one mind in a house.

I swear by the greatest, grimmest oath that binds the happy gods.

Few sons are the equals of their fathers; most fall short, all too few surpass them.

#rp memes ;;#original memes ;;#roleplay prompts #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp meme #roleplay prompt

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sports-on-sundays · 5 months

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boulevard of broken dreams / LN4 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!reader - Not many people know how true loneliness feels. Not many people know how true love feels.

Warnings: lots of description, angst, mention of self-harm, loneliness, pain, mention of death of a family member, dreams ruined, emotional pain, getting drunk to ease pain, change from 2nd person to 3rd when it felt right, panicking, jumping to worst case scenario, nausea, screaming, confusion, questioning will to live, blood, kind of violent dramatic descriptions. PLEASE do not read if you seriously struggle with some things like this! I would hate to cause anyone to feel more pain!!

Requested?: Mate nah.

Author's Note: I just wanted to write a thing. Listened to sad piano music and Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day writing it. I hope you enjoy. Personally, I'm really proud of this one. Let's hope I got all the warnings in hah! Link to part 2

Sunshine, moonlight, daylight, night light, night life. On, off, under, over, around, on, and off again.

In the middle of your heart, if someone could dig deep down and pick through you, examine you, dissect you, they would find the softest little bleeding bit. But they would only find that after knocking down wall after all of slimy, tough, terribly dark black walls. No one would be able to find the strength to knock all those walls down. And even if they could, you'd never let them.

One can only be vulnerable if there is someone there to have their back.

All the vulnerability is pushed to that one little section of your heart; the most delicate place on earth.

All the pain.

It's impossible.

This road.

This road is made of brick and it's slippery. It's constantly raining. And you're constantly shivering. No one gave you an umbrella, because there's no one on this road to do so. Night after night, this rain beats on you. Your skin degrades away as if you were dead. For daytime does not exist on this road. You forget how sunlight looks. You constantly walk. Never wanting to sleep because the only place is the road. And you hate this road.

Yet it is your home, and any different would terrify you.

The friends on this road are the shadows. Shadows in the night caress your arms and kiss your cheeks, whispering of false realities, forgotten memories, and broken dreams.

On this boulevard of broken dreams.

There's no conscience of the pain any longer. You're so used to it, you're numb. And that's the way it should be. All you need is to survive.

You always ask yourself why. But if you're asking the question, why would you also know the answer?

There is no one on this road who knows the answer, and there never will be. If anyone knew the answer, then they wouldn't be on this road.

Stairways to heaven and highways to hell.

You're on the fast track to absolutely no where.

No one knows this road exists. You're one of the unseen. Most people live on the other side. They don't know this exists. Many of them are good people. They would help. If they could possibly stand it.

If they only knew. There's no way for you to call for help. All you hear is your voice echoing back at you as the dark starless sky closes in on you.

Like a snow globe. Never get in or out. Constant precipitation.

You're always shivering but you never get sick. At least not anymore.

Immunity.

Yes, and no one should be this immune.

No one should be this immune to this road.

Yet here you are.

On the boulevard of broken dreams.

9-5. 5-9. 24 hours non-stop.

Sunday is no different than Monday or Friday or Saturday or any other day of the week.

Money, money, money. Lots of people love it. Lots of people hate it.

Work, work, work. Get in the money to survive another day. Can't feel a thing because otherwise- how do you get through?

You get up, get dressed, get out the door, go to work, come home, get drunk, go to bed, and repeat it all over again.

Forever.

It's amazing how fast hope can be shattered with the cruel bitterness of this unfair world.

"Mama! I'm going to be a superhero!"

"Mama, I'm gonna be a football player."

"Mama! Mama! I've got it! I'm going to be a race car driver!"

And that time, you meant it.

Well, maybe you didn't, because it never came to pass. And your parents knew it. There was no way. Your family couldn't survive without government money.

But how can you explain that to a little kid? A little kid who had been told all her life that if you follow your dreams, they'll come true?

When you hold on to those dreams so hard, it's even more difficult to let them go. When you realized reality, you were ruined.

You were resigned to the fact that because of your position in society, broken heart, especially after your father passed away at a young age, and no chance to do what you dreamed of forever, that 9-5 in pain for the rest of your life was the path you were on.

The fast track to no where.

There's a girl in the corner, in the shadow, that no one would ever notice. High life superstars, and she's missing her heroes. Drunk, drunk, drunk.

She's missing them.

But one of them doesn't miss her.

Despite the crowd, despite the fun, the throng, the laughter, the music, the everything perfect after a good race, Lando sees.

He sees the girl in the corner that no one else ever notices.

"Do you need help?" in the gentlest of tones. He bends down, looking the broken, shell of a person, right through everything and into her eyes. Like he doesn't see the eye bags, the messed up hair, the cuts on her arms, the vacancy. Like he sees beyond the walls. Like he just wants to see the true person who has to be in there. Somewhere.

"Yeah," she murmurs. Her words slur, making it terribly difficult for the buzzed Formula One driver to understand her words. "Can you... get me another drink?"

You wake up the next morning, and as soon as you realize you don't remember what happened last night and you're in an unfamiliar bed and room, you feel your stomach drop. Your head feels like it's about to explode with the extreme ache in it. Nausea wells up and you swallow, filling yourself overflow with utter panic. The rate of your breath picks up, and as your chest rises and falls quicker and quicker, even if you wanted to call for some sort of help (if anyone would even come), you can't. You can hardly breathe, your vision becoming swirling and confusing as you gasp, feeling as if you're going to suffocate. You heartbeat pounds in your head faster and faster, and you realize that if anything happened right now, you'd have no way to save yourself. This sinks more extreme anxiety, and even more when you think of what could have already happened when you were drunk last night. What if you're stuck here, confused and panicking, with some creep who did unspeakable things to you last night-

The door to the room slowly swings open, and you cover your face in your heads, unable to set your eyes on whoever is there, just trying to breathe- stay alive- yet you're not even sure you want to keep living at this point.

"Hey, hey, hey," a soft speaking male voice says. You feel him come closer, and slip on the bed next to you. "Hey, I'm not here to hurt you," he practically whispers. "I brought you to my home, but only because... you were a wreck last night. Listen to me..." He speaks soothingly, but you still don't look up. "Listen. I think you might be having a panic attack, or something adjacent. And I'm here to help you, not hurt you. Okay?"

You nod, staring down. Just one hot tear slowly rolls down your cheek.

"Can I take your hand?"

You hesitate, before nodding. You feel the thin, strong, smooth hand slip into yours. "Breathe with me, okay?" he says softly, then starts taking in slow, deep breaths. With every inhale, he gently squeezes your hand, and with every exhale, gently releases it.

You go on like this, and once you've sighed, confident enough of your safety, you let go of the man's hand and look up at him.

For a second, you stare.

And then it clicks.

And your jaw drops.

"Are you... you..." you stutter in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm Lando," he smiles.

You stare in shock at the man. "As in, like, the McLaren..."

"Yeah," he grins softly. "And I'll be right back, okay?"

"Lando-!" you squeal with a terrible, exhausted voice crack. Your emotions are so messed up right now.

He comes back and gives you a plate of food, sitting down next to you. You ignore the food for a moment and fix your eyes on him.

"Why am I here?" you ask softly.

"You needed help and I decided to give it."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You exhale slowly. "O- Okay.." These words from him are so strange to you. So unfamiliar. "I..." Suddenly, expected emotions well up within you. Uncommonly. You throw your arms around him and murmur, "Thank you... you're the... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me in years... And it's you. I must be in a dream... You're one of the reasons I'm still here... I love Formula One... I love... I love you..."

He hugs you back, before gently prodding, "Why don't you try to eat a bit."

You nod and turn to the little breakfast he's made. It's a bit bland, but you're glad for that. You're not feeling nearly at your best.

But at the same time, you're sitting next to Lando Norris.

Bittersweet and confusing.

"Thank you..." you murmur again.

"Of course you can say no," Lando starts. "But can I know your name? What's your story?"

You sigh. What hurt can it do to tell him? "Y/n. And I don't have much of a story."

"Really? Seems to me you'd have a pretty interesting one."

You shrug. "Just another broken life. There are plenty of those out there, Lando Norris."

"Clearly every broken life is important. Consider yourself."

You sigh. "Your story is the opposite of mine. Grew up rich, followed your dreams, perfect life."

There's a certain softness in his eyes. "What were your dreams?"

"Same as yours..." you murmur, your voice cracking. You hesitate, before finishing, "All I wanted was to be a race car driver. Nothing else more than that. And I would've done anything for it. If I could have."

Lando stares. You eat. There's a strange silence, before he says, "Did you kart?"

"For some years. It lasted about one and a half. Then my father passed away, and everything changed. Even more."

He stares down. "I'm sorry..." But then he looks up, his intense eyes meeting yours. He looks even better in real life. "Y/n, your story makes me so sad. I'm so sorry... I... I'd do anything I could to help you fulfill your dream, at least somewhat."

You look surprised. "Why? You have the perfect life. Why do you care? Besides, we both know full well it's too late for me."

He blinks and seems to ignore your last comment, likely because it's true and he doesn't want to admit it. "Because I have the perfect life. You deserve to be in Formula One just as much as me. Yet, we're... Well, in opposite places."

"Right..." You can hardly believe these words.

"You seem like such a... Well, something stole your innocence too soon. There's so much longing and brokenness and love in your eyes but you're just... A shell of the beautiful woman that's inside of you."

You blink. "Why do you say that?"

He murmurs after more hesitation, "Last night when you were drunk, you know what you did? Well you cried and you told me your struggles, yes. But before I was about to leave the room and let you sleep, you looked at right me and you said something like, 'I'm so lonely. Where did my life go? I can't stand this much longer. Sometimes I wish I just had someone- a friend, a neighbor, a boyfriend, a sibling- sometimes I wish I just had someone there for me.'"

You stare, now unblinking, unsure what to feel. It is true, isn't it?

Lando looks you straight in the eyes. Past everything. Into your most delicate, secret spot.

You fight back from letting yourself choke up.

"Y/n, if no one else will do it, I'd ought to be that person there for you. And I'd love to."

Moist and foggy, so nothing is visible. There are echoes of life in the outside world, but not on this road.

For the first time in years, your tired feet have stopped. Perhaps done. Had it with this. They're bloody and twisted from the years of this pain.

Where has the numbness gone?

The rain pours down

on this road

and you can't tell

if those are teardrops

or raindrops

streaming down your cheeks.

Suddenly, you see a light. A light that has found the end of the road that you've been searching for for years.

Don't lose it. Don't lose it.

You could use some company.

As the light nears, it hurts. You double over and fall down in the puddles of the road, screaming in pain. You're so used to the darkness. For years it's all you've known. The light hurts. It's terrifying.

The light comes closer and closer, faster and faster, and panic fills you, realizing there's no escape. Your eyes burn and you sob for it to let you go.

You hate this road. So why do you cry, begging to stay?

You tremble as the light approaches, covering your skin.

But when it reaches you, the expected terror is not what you experience. Instead, it's a feeling unfamiliar to you. Something that only the shadows would taunt you with. But this is it. The real one.

Tranquility.

Suddenly the beating of the rain stops.

You look up.

An umbrella.

And shining eyes.

You heart breaks once again, but this time you mind a bit less.

It's scary, but just what you wanted.

This light, this man, this sunshine.

This sunshine takes your hand and pulls you up. This sunshine leads you off this road. This boulevard of broken dreams.

This sunshine has come in and knocked down the walls.

Seen what's hidden. Stepped away and stepped into your misery. To help you.

A smile so bright.

And for the first time in forever.

You step off this road and you see the stars.

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