#so it is the dragon ages that gets me to draw hmm

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Gaze of the Moon (HOTD One-Shot)

Rhaenyra Targaryen x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: You and your wife, the Princess Rhaenyra steal a moment of peace together as you prepare for the coming birth of your child.

Fic type: fluff, romance, reflection

A/N: I had intended for this to be fem!reader x Rhaenyra but it wound up GN. This is also for @hotd-bigbang's March 11th prompt.

HOTD: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Did you know of that tale?" You asked softly, brushing your wife's hair back behind her ear as she lay against you in the moonlight. "About the second moon who cracked open from the heat of the sun and let the dragons out?"

Your wife let out a deep breath, the back of her skull pressing into your shoulder as she leaned back against you to peer out at the sky- up at the full moon above. She was gorgeous tonight. Radiant, round- both wife and moon.

The silver rays caught in Rhaenyra's loose hair, free tonight from tight braids and silk ribbons. The way you knew she preferred it. She'd been a wild child who'd grown into a proper lady, though you knew she yearned for the freedom of manhood. If she were a man, things would be easier. You both knew this but didn't care to dwell on it. There was no changing what was.

Rhaenyra hummed, eyes catching in the moon's gaze.

"I'm sure I remember my father telling me such a story once," she affirmed softly, lip twitching ever-so-slightly into the ghost of a smile. Your wife spent so much time stone-faced under the watchful eyes of the court vultures that even in the privacy of your own quarters she sometimes had trouble letting the cracks through. You treasured each of them like jewels as they deserved to be. "I used to stay up late into the eve and watch the moon- waiting for her to split and for the night to grow dark save for the fire of dragon's breath,' she admitted, eyes drawing closed as she thought on the memories.

"Perhaps one day, my dear wife," you said, pressing a kiss to her head before allowing your own to lean back against the cold, stone wall behind you. "Tell me, what is High Valyrian for 'moon'?"

You'd been learning her family's language for some time now, and you were certainly getting there. It was just that you preferred to hear the words from Rhaenyra's tongue. And truly, who could blame you when her voice had such royal lilt? Her voice was a balm for the mind. Or your mind, at the very least. You could listen to her speak for an age and then some.

"Hūra," Rhaenyra replied, a soft knowing smirk on her lips. You repeated it back to her, testing the syllables on your tongue. You liked the way it sounded, the way it felt. You reached a hand around her to brush over her swollen belly, round with child.

"If we have a daughter," you said thoughtfully, "Hūra is a nice name, do you not think?" Your fingers danced over her belly, and you both let out a laugh when you felt the babe kick from within her. Rhaenyra's hand joined yours, squeezing comfortingly. You hastily added, "It is not a traditional name, but I like it."

"Princess Hūra Targaryen," Rhaenrya breathed, opening her eyes to peer at her belly. "It does have a ring to it," she agreed, "and if the little one's restlessness is anything to speak of, the babe likes it, too."

You both lapsed into silence for a while, enjoying the light of the moon, the glint of the stars and the sounds of the night. It was quiet at this hour. Your favourite hour. What else could you possibly want for than this? A loving wife in your arms, a babe on the way, a flask of wine to share and the gaze of the moon on you?

"I suppose it is only fair you get to name one of our children," she said after a while. You'd almost thought her asleep in your arms with how quiet she'd been. "Why not the first. Get it out of the way, hmm?" She teased. "What if the babe is a boy?"

You chuckled softly, flicking at her arm in reply to her jape.

"Thank you, wife. Your generosity knows no bounds. I do not think the bairn is a boy, but if he is, I am quite fond of Vēzos. Best keep with the theme."

"One has to wonder where this sudden passion for celestial names has come from, my love," Rhaenyra mused. "Perhaps we will have twins. The Maester did say it was a possibility. Hūna and Vēzos. Moon and Sun-" Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably as the babe wriggled under her skin. "I like it."

"Strong names," you added, brushing your fingers through her hair softly, aiming to detangle the few knots that caught in your fingers. "Compassionate names. Perfect for bairns destined for greatness."

You suddenly found yourself hoping for twins. A boy and a girl. Siblings to grow up together and protect each other from the horrors that lay dormant in the realm. You could picture them, age three or perhaps four, playing hide and seek in the gardens. Ages ten and four by their mothers' side on the throne. Ages nine and ten crowned joint heirs to the throne. Ages four and thirty sitting side by side on the throne. Ruling, together. Sun and Moon, over their kingdom. Their birth-right. Protecting each other and keeping each other in check. What was best for the kingdom.

The thought filled you with pride. Oh, yes, you hoped for twins. It wouldn't be long now until Rhaenyra was due. Within a month, most likely. It was part of the reason you both were staying up late at night and enjoying the peace. Once Rhaenyra commenced and completed her labours, there wouldn't be much room for peace and quiet.

And yet, you couldn't wait. You didn't like the thought of your lady-wife in pain, but the thought of your quiet chambers filled with the sounds of a babe or two growing big and strong was perhaps motivating enough for you to bear the thought of her pain. You'd be by her side no matter what, of course. Fuck the Maesters and midwives. This was your wife, your babe. You would be there to support her until she asked you to leave.

"We should retire to bed," Rhaenyra broke your thoughts as she began shifting to stand. "We both need our rest for the day to come. I believe we are making arrangements for catering after the birth."

Ah, yes. The feast the King was insisting upon for the birth of his Grand-Sire. As the birth grew closer, more plans needed to be set. Catering, colours, floral arrangements, gifts for the babe. So many things that Rhaenyra and yourself were set to arrange. You may have enjoyed setting the festivities up, but Rhaenyra would be more than happy to sit out if she could.

You hadn't told Rhaenyra yet, but you'd made arrangements with the cooks to send for the ingredients to make Rhaenyra's favourite sweets. Ones she had not had since she were near a babe herself. The rest of the food, however, you both needed to settle on. A job for tomorrow, quite clearly.

You supported her as she stood, following behind. You stretched out the muscles in your arms and legs, creaking with complaint. You could only imagine how Rhaenyra felt. You left the balcony door open to the bedchambers as you helped your wife shift out of her gown.

Once she was settled into the sheets, Rhaenyra let out a sigh of relief. The bed took the weight off her body and allowed her to settle in. You followed, pressing up against her back to keep her warm against the slight chill of the night.

Rhaenyra took your hand and rested it against her belly. You felt any of your remaining troubles melt away for the moment and pressed a kiss to the back of Rhaenyra's neck.

"Good night, my love," you whispered softly, rubbing your thumb over the silky material of her nightdress. "Sleep well, little one."

You drifted off to the sound of Rhaenyra's soft breathing and the quiet chatter of insects out in the gardens below your balcony, dreaming of the bairns to come, and a life well lived.

#hotd spring prompts 24 #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x you #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra targaryen fanfiction #rhaenyra targaryen fanfic #rhaenyra fanfiction #rhaenyra fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon smut #hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #emma d'arcy #hotd x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x you #rhaenyra fluff #rhaenyra x reader fluff

[ataraxiaspainting]

Hier Encore IV.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

[Hier Encore III.]

Synopsis: Yorknew Police Department Headquarters, 1995, April 10th. You are a director of public safety. The Phantom Troupe attacks the headquarters and takes you under the guise of a hostage situation. Even when the ransom is paid, you are never returned and assumed to be dead. After thirteen months of captivity, in 1996, on May 9th, you escape and try to learn how to live again somewhere far away from your captor. The payment of freedom comes with a steep cost, one that stains your hands so much that even if you drown them in bleach, the stain will remain there for the rest of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectively, not SFW implications, misogynistic undertones (not from Chrollo), unhealthy relationships, manipulation o’clock, body transformation (not on the reader), references to religion, violence/gore, minor character death, and stalking.

Word Count: 5.9k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

4:00 A.M. by Taeko Onuki

My Girlfriend Is a Witch by October Country

Michelle by Sir Chloe

Sonne by Rammstein

Enemy by Imagine Dragons

Venus Fly Trap by MARINA

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

cult leader by KiNG MALA

Teacher’s Pet by Melanie Martinez 

“She looked like a vixen, and that’s what she was; she had all the instincts of a female fox. She was the proverbial predatory female. She had what she wanted, now, and she was content. There was just the getting completely away with it that counted.” – Gil Brewer, Sin for Me

iv. “I must be cruel, only to be kind.”

“Greetings.”

One emotion comes after another on Sebastian's face: confusion, fear, distrust, and many more.

“Hello.” His voice is tight. “Do you need something?” He asks, putting his hands on the doorframe as a precaution.

“I have just come to ask you a few questions.” Chrollo answers, his voice as calm and collected as always. He isn’t even looking at Sebaste, his focus is placed on the inside of the cottage. He knows that you are here.

“Like what?” Sebaste asks, his body tensing up.

“My dear, come out.” He calls out to you, his voice as soft as it usually is.

“I’m sorry?” Sebaste questions, his shoulders strained upwards. “I’m right here.”

Chrollo pays him no mind, instead still looking over Sebastian's shoulder. He hums, looking at one object in the living room at a time. The black sofa by the television was old with the bottom left corner of it torn, white stuffing no longer being covered there in that spot. The carpet below Sebastian’s feet, the colors fading because of age. The creaky poplar floorboards. The pots of plants where the kitchen’s checkered tiles and the living room’s wooden planks meet, where you are hiding. Your eyes meet and his eyes are as empty as ever, perhaps even emptier, like black holes in the ground that aim to swallow you whole.

“Come out, my love.” He repeats himself, his tone sickeningly sweet to the point of mockery.

“Excuse me?” Sebaste asks, his voice slightly cracking.

“Dearest.” His gaze is still on you. It is intense and you feel a pressure on your neck like you are being strangled by him. You can’t breathe.

“I’m here.” Sebaste moves his hands downwards on the doorframe. “I’m right here.” His eyebrows furrow. “I’m right here. Don’t ignore me.” He’s upset.

“Hmm.” He leans in slightly. “She hasn’t told you anything, has she?”

You can see Sebastian's feet through the leaves of the tall plants take a step or two back at Chrollo’s question. “What?”

He still is not making eye contact with Sebaste. “Honestly, I expected that you would have left her by now, or at the very least be on your knees begging for mercy from me. Little liar.” Once more, a gentle hum escapes his lips as he leans in, drawing himself nearer. “But that is alright.”

Sebastian's feet move backward yet again. “What?” He knows. “Hello? What are you talking about?”

Remaining composed, Chrollo gradually advances towards Sebaste. “My dear, aren’t you going to greet me? I missed you.”

As an innate response to his words, your muscles contract, causing your entire body to become rigid.

“Come on out,” Chrollo continues, his smile getting wider. “We haven’t seen each other for more than a year. It feels like a millennia since I saw you last. My heart still beats for you, though, and always will.”

“Leave,” You finally say, your voice almost as shaky as you are. “Go away.”

Sebaste and Chrollo are now both looking at you, but their gazes are different. Chrollo looks at you like a hunter looks at a slain doe or rabbit they are about to eat, while Sebaste looks at you with confusion and fear, for he knows what you are; a liar. “Come closer. Let me see you.”

You shake your head from side to side until your neck cramps and you feel slightly dizzy. “Leave, go away.” You repeat, your voice still shuddering. 

“I would take you more seriously if your voice was not quivering, beloved.”  You can perceive the mocking tone in his voice. “I want to see your beautiful face not covered by the foliage of a dying plant.” His smile is getting bigger and bigger by the second, you swear to yourself. “Come on now.”

Once more, you vigorously shake your head, refusing to comply. “Leave.”

Sebaste continues to call out, desperately trying to catch his attention, but he remains unfazed, humming to himself. Fear is evident in his expression and the urgency of his voice. Concern grips you, for both Sebaste and yourself.

“Come closer, please. Come greet me.”

You squirm behind the tall plant. “No, go away, leave.”

“I won’t.” His smile fades as he looks down at Sebastian's arms still holding onto the doorframe like it was their lifeline. It is actually, you realize.

Sebastian's face contorts into a frown, while he straightens his posture even further, assuming a defensive stance. “If all you are going to do is bother my girlfriend and not talk to me, you have to leave.”

“No.” Sebaste is finally acknowledged by him, but this time his voice lacks warmth, sounding firm and icy. “Step aside.”

The urge to run engulfs you. You want to run into the forest. You want to run until your feet bleed and your ankles are twisted and bruised.

“Why would I do that?” Sebaste hisses angrily. “Leave. All you are doing is being a creep to my girlfriend. Leave or I’ll call the police. Now.”

Chrollo simply leans in closer to Sebastian's ear. “Step aside. Please.”

Sebaste scowls. “Leave. Now.”

Run, run, run. Despite your determination to hold your ground, you start to relent under Chrollo's unrelenting gaze, eventually taking a step forward as instructed. “Ah, that’s better. Good.” As Chrollo's stare intensifies, you find yourself averting your gaze towards the ground, towards your bare feet. “Look at you, my poor thing. You have nothing more to say, don’t you?” He coos like a parent watching their baby take their first steps.

“I’m calling the police.”

Sebaste delves into the depths of his hoodie pocket, where his phone resides, leaving a portion of the doorway unguarded by his arm. The urge to plead with Sebaste, to convey the futility of it all, arises within you. However, you find yourself incapable of doing so. 

In one swift motion, Chrollo grabs the cell phone away from Sebastian’s hand and throws it on the ground, a loud smashing sound reaching your ears. It’s only more pronounced by a boot stomping and crushing it like it was some sort of bug.

“Come closer, dearest.” He says, and your feet move, your mind compliant. You move closer and closer, until you are a few feet behind Sebaste, who looks both fearful and confused.

“Call the police,” Sebaste tells you, the stress in his voice is more than obvious.

You just stare, emptily. There is no point in running over to the kitchen to grab your phone, because Chrollo is quick and thus would run quicker, quicker than you ever could. You, poor you, would fall in vain in the Spider’s hunt for the fly that made it out of the web alive.

“Call the police. [First], call the police.” You would love to appear as a saint, but bright crimson stains your hands and eats at your very being. The floorboards creak and crack beneath you as you walk closer and you hope that the planks will simply break and let you fall into an infinite void where you will never be sentenced for your crimes. 

“My lady of sorrows, as beautiful as ever.”

You should have hidden your tracks better.

“Call the police, [First].” You should have watched out for any targets on your back.

You should have watched out more for the eyes looking at you in the night because you only caught one pair. “Your love is like a warm summer’s day, and it will always be mine, all mine.”

You wanted a normal human life. You wanted a normal human death.

But you are caught in the Spider’s web and encased in silk yet again, so you can’t have either of those things. Now, all that you can have that you want is to cry.

“Call the police.” Sebastian's trembling voice echoes once more, filled with fear. Desperate to find solace, he reaches out for your hand, only to be met with the unexpected rejection of a slap. 

You’re so stupid. So, so stupid. Your brain feels numb like it is rotting away inside of you, slowly but surely.

“Call the police. [First]. Go get your phone and call the police.”

“All I want is to hold you in my arms and know that you are mine.” You hold everything Chrollo has ever said to you inside of you where your heart used to be. It weighs you down more than a broken heart ever would.

“[First]. Call the police. What’s wrong?”

The world is now monochrome once more. You feel the place where warmth used to be within you. But now all there is is ashes. There is nothing but ashes. Your lungs hurt from all the filth.

“Stop it.” Disgusting, you are disgusting, Chrollo is disgusting.

You wanted to see the whole world. But you are now back to being trapped in the spider’s web and you cannot do any of those things now. A butterfly with a hole in its wing caught in its web. 

“What’s wrong? Call the police. Go. Now.” Disgusting. “[First]?” Disgusting. “[First], why aren’t you doing anything?”

“Stop it.” Your voice cracks like how you wanted the floorboards to. “Just stop it.”

“Go get your phone.” Sebaste continues, deaf to what you are trying to tell him. “Go. Now. Go.”

Your head hurts. Your stomach hurts. You want your pajamas on. You want to sleep. You wish you never ran away because now hell will be unleashed on Sebaste and you as punishment. You wish you would have just made a pit stop in this town and continued being on the move. You wish you were more tactical. You wish you had never been born at all. Disgusting. You’re so disgusting and stupid and tired.

You find yourself uttering every part of it, stammering through the words, pausing to catch your breath, pleading for Sebastian's survival, hoping to just return to whatever luxurious penthouse or hotel room Chrollo is currently staying at, imploring to have a private conversation with Chrollo about this matter in his car, away from Sebaste.

As soon as you finish begging for Sebastian's life and open your eyes, you see the book in Chrollo’s hand. With the realization of what is about to happen, tears finally fall from your eyes onto your bare feet. 

The cry that escapes your lips is a unique one, unlike any other. It is choked, desperate, animalistic, raw, and undeniably genuine.

“Don’t! Please! Wait! Chrollo!”

Chrollo looks at you and you immediately shut up.

“What are you doing?” Sebaste asks, stepping away, his entire body shaking. “Answer me. What are you doing?”

Chrollo's gaze turns towards him, bearing a facial expression that ranks among the most dreadful you've ever witnessed.

He doesn’t respond with anything more than a hum and a quick turn of the pages.

You’re too afraid to speak.

You look at the floor and close your eyes again as you continue to cry.

You hate the book. He has never used it on you, but you know what it can do. Perhaps if Chrollo is in a good mood at the moment, Sebaste will merely have a curse placed upon him and he will go out the door with poor, wailing you, his grip on your wrist strong enough to almost break it. 

A foolish thought, you remind yourself.

Chrollo wasn’t known for his mercy, after all.

Sebaste is as good as dead.

Perhaps he is even worse than dead.

He could be tortured. Starved, eaten alive, poisoned, or has all of his bones broken bit by bit.

You are scared to open your eyes. But you are also scared to have them remain closed.

As you look at what is in front of you and ignore the noises around you, you deprive yourself of any mercy.

It is what you deserve.

“[First]?”

“Don’t.”

“[First], what is happening?” Sebaste points to Chrollo with a look of pure fear, his eyes looking like they are about to burst from their sockets. “What is he talking about?”

“I said don’t. Just stop.”

Sebaste stops in his place, his body shaking so much it looks like he is about to fall. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” It is a genuine apology. “But speaking will only make the pain worse for both of us.”

Chrollo hums again and nods at you, still flipping through the pages. Engaging in acts of rebellion will only exacerbate the situation.

The book stops turning and Chrollo points to a page. “I found it.”

His words are barely audible, drowned out by the piercing cries of anguish. Flashing lights; magenta, red, teal, and black.

Sable scales are sprouting from Sebastian's alabaster skin, each one covered in blood and pierced flesh.

His scleras are a shade of light coral. His eyelids are getting smaller and smaller by the second.

His irises get darker, almost to the hue of ink, matching the scales that are all over his body covered in little bits of torn skin. His knees collapse on themselves as you stand still, looking with both disgust and fear. His elbows fold as his arms lessen in length, his hands bonding with his clavicles. 

He is still screaming.

You want to tell him to stop, that there was no point. It’s already too late for either of you.

But you can’t.

You refuse to look at Chrollo, who is no doubt smiling at the horrifying tragedy unfolding in front of you two.

You just look at Sebaste with pitying, guilty eyes.

He does not look at you.

You deserve it, and he deserves to at least have that choice in the matter.

Whatever Chrollo is doing to him, there is no doubt in your mind that you deserve at least twice as bad of a fate.

But you don’t fear death. Not anymore. You know Chrollo does not plan to kill you, that death is not in the cards he is holding. He would never let go of his favorite toy. So, you fear the unknown. You fear whatever harrowing methods Chrollo is going to use on you. There is no doubt that they will be far more psychological than physical.

You sit and stay, like a good dog does, even though every fiber of your being is telling you to run out the back door and into the forest. So, you wait. You wait until he is done. You won’t speak or move unless you are told to. You give up all control and pretend to want to be dragged by a leash instead. You hide your true feelings behind a mask and not overplay your hand. That is how you become a dog.

Good girl.

Chrollo takes out a few Polaroid photographs from his suit pocket and lays them out on the table. One of them is the gore-stained walls of James’ apartment, his lower half the only part that is still whole. The second is Victor’s collapsed, untouched body on the wooden floorboards. The third is of your stalker’s rotting corpse in your abandoned shed, his head lowered and his partially gouged eyes swinging in the cool breeze. You can’t pretend to be better anymore. You can’t hide what you have done anymore. He knows.

You reach for the photos, grabbing them off the table then crumble them into balls, tearing them apart into shreds and watching them fall onto the ground.

Chrollo doesn’t stop you. He simply stares at the torn pieces that lay at your bare feet. He hums. It’s the most horrific sound you have ever heard. It is a mix of hilarity and hunger. When he smiles, his teeth look like a shark's. They are razorlike and look sharp enough to cut flesh, though they appear the same as yours. Although his appearance may deceive others into perceiving him as angelic, you are aware that he is anything but, just like yourself.

He knows. He knows.

Chrollo takes a step forward toward you but stops abruptly. He hums again. He looks upward towards your face and you make eye contact. Your brain starts screaming signals to run.

He knows of the lies that are the foundation of the makeup used to cover your hideous, real face. He knows of your sticky, sticky red hands, stained with crimson sin. He knows of the devil that lurks within the deepest confines of your heart. He knows that no exorcism or priest would be able to get rid of it. He knows that it will stay inside you until your last breath. He knows of the hidden transgressions within your soul, the deeds you committed to survive. The actions you took to elevate yourself above all others and everything else in this world.

He knows everything. He knows what you have done.

The stars twinkle no more. The moon has lost its luster. The night sky has broken apart. You cannot hide your wrongdoings from the scorching beams of the sun. Your skin burns. Everything hurts.

He knows.

He looks down at you like he is a king. Arrogant. Tenacious. He is not even a star to you. He is less than the small pieces of meteorites floating in the vast Milky Way, fading away more and more by the second. This life was too good to be true. You have failed and as a result, you have lost everything. 

You cover your head with your arms and run, tackling Chrollo to the ground. He falls onto the kitchen floor with a hard thump. You punch him, but your knuckle hurts as you do so, Chrollo’s face like an iron wall. You yelp in pain and withdraw your fist, using your other hand to pull out the knife from your sweatpants. You haven’t even made a dent into him, did he even feel anything?

Chrollo's laughter resonates as if he finds your actions incredibly amusing. He proceeds to articulate the harsh reality, a truth that is both unpleasant and acrid. “So, you were the one that committed those murders. As expected.”

No. No. No. No.

As you falter, Chrollo’s hands firmly grab the upper parts of your arms and push you off, the amount of power used being nearly enough to throw you against the glass cupboards of dishware and decorations. Instead, the back of your head collides with the wall next to the wooden back door, the paring knife flying out of your hand and landing a few inches away. A pained cry escapes your lips as your vision blurs for a second. He’s on top of you in an instant, his eyes dark and predatory, and your positions suddenly reversed. 

The blade, you have to get it back.

As you try to reach out for it, Chrollo grabs your wrist with an abnormal amount of strength. “I wouldn’t pick that up if I were you. It would only prove a point for me.”

Run. Run. Run. You have to run, like a small child running up the stairs when the lights are off, fearing what could be lurking in the dark. 

Life. Death. Free. Cage. Run. 

No, this can’t be happening, this is just a bad dream.

“Struggle all you like, we both know how this will end.”

“Shut up. I’m not going anywhere–”

“You are. You will stay wherever I place you because I am not falling for your tricks a second time, my little witch.”

No. This is just a bad dream. You close your eyes and try to wake up, shaking your head and begging for Chrollo to be just a figment of your imagination. You try and try, but you can still feel the crushing feeling of Chrollo’s grip on your bruised wrist and the weight of his body on top of yours. This is real, and this is happening.

Your mind goes blank as you open your eyes, your body being directed by raw, pure fear. Your forehead crashes into Chrollo’s, making him back up a few centimeters and let go of your wrist. Your torso crawls toward the blade like an animal whose legs are caught under a boulder or a bear trap. Your elbows bend and you try to move forward. You are just about to grab the knife when there is a yanking of your hair backward. You holler out as your spine is twisted peculiarly, your upper body facing downwards towards the knife while your lower body is facing upwards towards Chrollo. 

“Let go!”

“You certainly are stubborn.”

Your fist smacks him square in the jaw and he lets go. Your hand grips the knife, and you start swinging it around, blinded by emotion. You manage to cut into his right cheek as he spits out some blood from your punch. You try to gouge out one of his eyes, but his dexterity causes his head to duck just in time. Your body shakes with a mix of alarm and hate. You try to aim for the space between his eyes, but he grabs your wrist with one hand and your tricep with the other and starts twisting them in two different directions, making you wail. There is a sudden snap that is louder than your cries. You scream as you drop the knife and caress your broken arm. Chrollo grabs the blade and throws it far across the room. 

Chrollo’s body seems to relax a little, so you kick him in the face and try to clamber away from him. His nose bleeds, but it does not look broken. You are as desperate as a doe trying to escape the bullets of a hunter’s shotgun. 

Run. Run. Run. 

“You’re not being good. You’re not being good at all.”

Run. Run.

With the last bits of strength you have, you withstand the agonizing pain in your arm and kick Chrollo in the stomach with both of your legs, so hard that even you wince. He backs up as he chokes on his saliva. Some of the blood from his nose jumps onto your face and you can taste the flavor of metal. He falls backward and hugs his abdomen. He is off of you at long last. For the quick moment he is in pain, you stand up quickly, clutching your unusable limb. You run as fast as you can towards the paring knife. You bend down and grab it in a rush of panic. 

Run, rabbit. Run.

Chrollo pushes you down onto your stomach, your back facing him. He grabs your broken arm and pulls it, his foot on your spine to keep you there. It bends like rubber or bubblegum. You start to flail around like a fish out of water. You gasp for air as you cry out in pain. His other hand grabs the back of your head, raising it slightly before pushing it down hard onto the wooden planks. The life you have built for yourself, everything you have worked towards, the colorful, sweet world you have made, all shatters into splinters before your very eyes.

Picking pumpkins and apples to make decorations and cook into pies, harvesting sunflowers to put into glass vases around your cottage, going into the farmer’s market and smelling freshly roasted corn and baked goods, cookies, fried mushrooms, glazed yams, eggplant parmesan, learning to love someone for the first time.

It was all for nothing. It was all for nothing because Chrollo found you. Chrollo found you and enacted his revenge. You wail a strangled, desperate breath. A raw and real breath. 

You stop struggling at long last, like a toy that has run out of power from its battery. All that fighting and you have hardly made him use his true strength.

You are weak. You cannot go anywhere. You are a rabbit with nowhere to run. Murder. Death. Theft. Crime. Manipulation. Love. Chrollo’s blood is still in your mouth and it’s bitter and dry, like you had just eaten sand in a desert or oceanless beach. It chokes you, both physically and mentally.

No.

The fish that used to be Sebaste looks up at the ceiling, lying on its side. An unblinking, wide eye. Dull. Cloudy. Empty. Unforgiving. Confused. Weak. Its corpse lays before you two and starts to stink like the back of a butcher’s shop. 

I hate you.

That is what its eye tells you.

Traitor. Fool. Devil. Maneater. Tainted. Killer. Freak.

This is all your fault. Why did I have to die? Why are you still alive? You lied to me. You said you loved me. Liar. 

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Pathetic.

Your feet are still cold.

If only you could have died too. If only you could have died beside him. You don’t want to die in whatever hotel room or penthouse Chrollo will shove you in, within four suffocating walls and soft sheets that cost more than your monthly rent. You don’t want to die there, you want to die anywhere else. You are not ready to die. Tunnel vision overtakes you, with only one objective in mind.

Just stay alive.

Just stay alive.

That is your one wish to the stars above.

It hurts.

Everything hurts.

You are being burned alive by your desire to both live and die.

...

You don’t think before you do it.

You don’t try to stop yourself before, without any hesitation, your legs propel you forward, forcefully thrusting the backdoor open with your functioning arm. Anguish, fury, remorse, and sorrow engage in a fierce battle for dominance over your every move. As you dart deeper into the dark and densely packed forest behind your cottage, the only sounds you could hear are your own ragged breaths and pounding heart. It was as if the forest was trying to swallow you up, closing in with every passing step. No moonlight or stars pierced the thick layers of leaves and branches overhead.

The darkness is like a thick fog, blurring your sight and limiting your visibility. You could not see Chrollo behind you, but your instincts told you that he was. There was no hint of a breeze to take some of the edge off, with even the birds and chipmunks being completely silent.

The pain was excruciating. With every jostling step, your broken arm jolted around like a wooden toy, threatening to send you down to the ground any second as it kept getting caught in vines and hitting tree trunks. You could not afford to stop running.

You don’t see anyone following you.

Your feet are starting to bleed and leave a few red drops of blood with every rushed step you take. You don’t care about it because instinct has taken over your mind.

You trip over a large root on the ground and fall sideways right on your broken arm, making you scream from the intense pain shooting up. As you try to get up and caress your broken arm, you stumble downhill into a pile of dead leaves. 

Your mouth is full of them, making you hardly able to breathe as you spit them out. 

If it were any other time, you would have considered it funny.

But not now.

As you rise from the ground, your hand instinctively shields your mouth, preventing any inadvertent sound that may invite unwanted attention. The pursuit of Chrollo, if not already initiated, has undoubtedly commenced.

He’s after you. You know this. He came back into your newly rebuilt life and destroyed it right in front of your very eyes. 

You know he can hear you, but you cannot hear him. You never know of his presence until he is too close, that is how it always has been. That is how it is now. Chrollo has forever possessed superior speed, strength, intelligence, attractiveness, and wealth, making it impossible for anyone to ever match his prowess, even if they desired to do so.

You hate him.

You hate him, and he’s here for you again.

No.

How did he even find you?

Hisoka promised.

He promised you that your location would be undiscovered.

He lied to you, didn’t he?

Maybe lying isn’t the exact word.

Maybe he technically did keep his promise, because the Troupe didn’t show up in a matter of a few hours.

Chrollo showed up in a matter of nearly twenty four.

Your gasps for air and silenced cries are paired with a call of your name.

“Oh, you poor thing. Scared half to death.”

His words are as soft as they are cruel.

“Mater Dolorosa.”

You force yourself onto your feet again to run, sensing the voice behind you up the hill getting louder and louder. But when you move to run, you wince in pain and look down at your swollen red ankle.

It is so dark that you can’t see anything aside from yourself, the world around you being painted monochrome by the black night sky’s palette. 

There is nowhere to run, is there?

You have used up all of your luck getting this far, and have to pay the price.

You are out of time. You cannot dream of sweet escape anymore.

“Do you remember my touch? I touched you so sweetly. My darling girl.”

You would turn if you could, but the pain shooting out from your ankle prevents you doing so and almost makes you fall into the leaves again instead. “You took me away.” 

Moving in a circular motion, Chrollo gradually positions himself in your line of sight, his imposing figure standing tall before you. “It is a thief’s nature. I could not resist the temptation to steal you.”

Chrollo is a prime illustration of the extreme measures some individuals are willing to take in order to have you in their embrace. 

Your beauty has captivated every person you have encountered, evoking reverence from all. It is both a blessing and a curse, a double edged sword, both the thing that worships you and tortures you. 

Your sweatpants are covered in dirt stains and pieces of dried grass and leaves, your hoodie in a similarly horrible condition. Your hair had come undone, cascading in delicate wisps that obscured your vision, reminiscent of a spider's delicate web. There is nowhere to hide.

“Oh, how I love you.” Chrollo smiles and the way it reaches his eyes makes you squirm more. “Shall I enumerate the reasons why?”

…

The car ride was silent for a while. You would have preferred it if it stayed that way. But Chrollo could never stay quiet for long, even if you asked nicely, so he turned the dial of the radio and began humming along. In all the months you were with him, the only constant presence in your otherwise bleak, depressing life. 

The song he chose felt like yet another kick to the stomach. ABBA’s Lay All Your Love On Me. Of course he would play that.

As much as you hate doing so, you focus on the way your heart beats with each turn and bump along the road. He was calm, still so calm, even after this two year long escape. You are certain that this is the calm before the storm, and it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down on you. More than what already had fallen. 

To claim that you were on edge would be an understatement. 

“Do you know what will happen now?”

With your heart pounding and mind consumed, you can't help but startle at his words, despite your readiness.

“...No.”

He lets out a small laugh, reducing the music's volume to a slightly muffled level.

It only makes you feel like you are about to go into cardiac arrest.

“You do, don’t you? You have always been a smart one.”

Your broken arm aches under the slight pressure of the seatbelt pressing against it, your ankle being only slightly cushioned by the insulated carpet beneath.

Chrollo has never hurt you before, aside from restraining you in the early days of your capture. Though, you know if you had blamed your ankle on him and told him, he would tell you it was your fault for running barefoot in the dark.

He hopefully will give you a brace or pillow for it when you both arrive back to wherever your temporary location is.

“My freedoms will be taken away.”

As he nods, a smile plays at the corners of his mouth, revealing a slightly sinister undertone that would easily deceive any unfamiliar observer.

“That is a start. But,” Pausing momentarily, he directs his gaze towards you, only to swiftly return his attention to the path that lies ahead. “What particularly? Give me an example, please.”

He is definitely planning something. Maybe you'll inquire about the source of his inquiry, or perhaps you'll force a trembling grin and pretend his question is nonsensical, aware that he's already aware of the freedoms you've gained during your time in confinement. Yet, he would persist then, and repeat his query. You could respond by acknowledging his authority to strip away any privilege he deems appropriate, a fact that both of you know to be true, but deep down, you understand that he desires a real, logical answer.

Whether this is a genuine question or something that will be used to mock you in a moment or two, you have no idea.

“A freedom like…” Your answer will probably be spawned into existence, making you wary of how to respond to his question, but you know you have to because you have no choice in this hell. “Like being able to move freely around.”

He only taps his fingers on the steering wheel in a melody unlike the one playing from the car’s speakers. “How so?” Welcome once again to the realm of eternal damnation.

You contemplate turning away from him and looking out the window instead. But that would cause you more physical pain from your arm moving against the car seat and more mental pain from you knowing you will not be able to go outside again for at least a while. That is, if you are ever allowed to go outside again. If you can ever escape again. He wants another answer. He is not satisfied. But, then again, when is he ever?

You don’t dare look away from him as he stares at you, not at the road, at you. You practically feel like your stomach is dropping out of your body and onto the insulated carpet, staining parts of it crimson red from the blood and a discolored version of its once licorice color from the stomach acid. 

“Go on,” You could imagine the feeling of his fingers and yours intertwining and starting to squeeze your throat. 

Thum, thum, thum. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun.

“...Restraints.” You wish you could just dissolve like seafoam in the sea. “I’m not sure which ones you want to use. The metal ones or silk ones most likely.” The sensation of suffocation creeps in, as if the air itself has turned putrid and malevolent, weighing heavily on your chest. Your vocal cords are raspy, resembling the aftermath of regurgitating and subjecting them to the corrosive effects of gastric acid. “Maybe gag me or tie my legs together too. Or both, it depends on if you are in a good mood right now or not, right?”

He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off of you. His gaze feels unsettling, for there is no trace of anger in his eyes, yet you can sense his fury.

“That is one, yes. What else do you think will happen when we get back, my dear?”

The road is empty. There are no deer or geese or ducks crossing, only you and Chrollo. Animals have always had better judgment of human character, after all.

You hope that the place you are going to at least has a nice view.

“Tell me.”

#it's finally done #wild ride tbh #time to go back to touching grass for a bit <3 #yippie #yandere hxh #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #hxh chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #yandere hunter x hunter #hxh #yandere hxh x reader #author aya #hier encore. #ultraviolet.

[beevean]

I decided to break down down this absolutely beautiful poster because I love it and there is some interesting content to notice <3

Starting from the big character portraits:

The Hecboi being his usual badass self. You can spot his earrings which I love, it's such a cute detail <3

Isaac practicing his "step on me daddy" routine. yes sir i get it your boots are fabulous and your pants can't contain your d

I find highkey underrated how Kojima associated him with skulls in official artwork. I wish it didn't get lost in time lol.

Trevor, my friend Trevor :) much more serious than the sass master he is in the game lol

Julia taking care of Hector's Innocent Devils :)

Side note, while I love most of their designs in the game, I find Kojima's idea of what Hector and Isaac's Devils could look like very fascinating. I like how she draws dragons.

The big man himself, St. Germain standing in front of a clock, and Zead holding a four-leafed clover for good luck (+ Isaac again lol)

Now, the more minute detail, going anti-clockwise:

Not only we can see Dracula's Castle, but the figure in the center is the Devil Forgery lab in the PtR manga:

Another underrated detail of lore :)

Oh, this one is just. juicy <3 It took me ages to understand what's going on, but with some help I finally realized it.

So this is essentially the moment where Hector went to Dracula and was like "hey boss, would you mind if you stopped to order me to kill humans? dunno if you noticed but i'm human too and it feels weird. thanks", and Dracula was like "hmm. let me think about it. no. have a nice day :)".

In the PtR manga, it was depicted like this:

With Dracula threatening Hector with his extended claws, and then throwing him off the castle keep. i don't know what you were expecting, man

But in the poster, he's straight up holding Hector by his throat and stabbing him with the fingers of his bat wings! So much that you can see blood dripping from his mouth! Ouch!

This only proves my headcanon that Devil Forgemasters are superhuman and can withstand wounds that would kill a normal person.

also, between this and his sippy attack in the game proper, dracula sure likes to manhandle hector a little too much.

the besties going to work <3

You have no idea how much this little drawing pisses me off. This is the closest thing I have of a canon depiction of Hector and Isaac working as Devil Forgemasters.

I need to see them slaughtering humans together in my bloodstream D: not even NFCV had the courtesy of depicting a villain Hector actually doing villain things D: guys. guys the potential-

Aside from that, this also incidentally proves that PtR's interpretation of Isaac's fabulous outfit (being what is left of his normal Devil Forgemaster outfit after Hector destroyed it) is retroactive. My man was apparently already going shirtless just because he felt like it. Imagine being killed by Dracula's most loyal soldier and your last sight in life is his tiddies. King shit.

also

yeah it's stupid but that's the vibe i get lol

I get it, Kojima-san, you love your blorbo. understandable

A bit more seriously, I really appreciate how much Isaac doesn't have the certified Kojima Pretty Man face, he's instantly recognizable. I like his big nose :)

Hector practicing Devil Forging, a smaller version of this panel from the PtR manga:

I like how in the poster it looks like a typical yin-yang symbol, but also closer to the black-and-white motif of the Devil Forging crest :) they look like two lil dragons chasing each other.

why does isaac look 150% more naked without his shoulder armor

It's hard to tell which even this is supposed to represent. I guess it's his defeat at Hector's hands, if we take the black splotches on the ground as his outfit being slashed. Notice the crest on the floor, similar to the intro of the game!

The worsties fighting. Hector is pissed and Isaac is a troll, must be a day ending in Y. they're flirting

The End! Hard to tell if it's Hector's golden Devil or Abel, but it looks awesome <3

This one... puzzles me. I can tell that Hector is being attacked by some little devils and he's defending himself. But why is he using a small pumpkin as a weapon??

(what if this is him trying to defend rosaly from the mob who accused her of being a witch :<)

Hector angsting. Sadly I'm not sure of what kind of flower that's supposed to be, perhaps a dandelion? I wish it was a lily of the valley like in PtR.

Our friend Trevor again. Interesingly, in the full poster, Isaac and Trevor are directly mirroring each other.

Trevor being like "bruh are you for real" after whipping Hector's ass black and blue. (i hate his second fight so much...)

I would say "Hector's revenge", but actually it looks like he's bleeding and in pain. So... I think this the moment when Dracula nearly clawed Trevor's eye out.

Trevor and Isaac fighting! Love that scene in the game :D

isaac how are you even twisting yourself. what are you doing. you're showing off, aren't you.

Not sure about what location these ruins are supposed to be, but fascinating detail of the skeleton holding a scale of justice. It's close to Zead...

tl;dr i want to eat this poster because it's just so fucking good and a great way to summarize the game

#castlevania #curse of darkness #long post #ayami kojima #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze #trevor belmont #dracula castlevania #julia laforeze #st. germain #zead

[midorisudachi]

"We are ridiculously awesome!" - Zevran Arainai (after winning a battle)

Happy December, loves! How are we already at the end of the year? I have felt incredibly scatter-brained this entire year, due to how fast it has been flying by. I feel as if I didn't get anything (that I had planned to do this year) done. Does anybody else feel that way? I had all these ideas in my head to drawn Dragon Age Inquisition characters every other Monday until Dragon Age Day...which was December 4th...and I did not accomplish my goal! Life catches up to you, ya now?

Zevran is absolutely delightful in Dragon Age Origins. He has no shame in what he says...zero filters with his words! Ha ha! He has the best conversations with the characters and I love his bantering. He's my favourite bisexual elf! I had decided to draw him in a heavy armour...I think it was the "Ceremonial Armour".

Some of my favourite Zevran quotes:

"Elves plant these trees to remind themselves of who they once were. And then they pee on it. Charming symbolism, really." - At the vhenadhal tree.)

"How did I get here? What happened to all those luscious wood nymphs?" - After waking up from the Sloth Demon tricking him

"Hmm... Anyone up for a little bit of naked cliffdiving? No?" - At Redcliffe

And the best one:

Zevran: Might I offer you a bit of advice, my good friend Alistair?

Alistair: I like my hair the way it is, thank you.

Zevran: Truly? As you wish... though my advice is regarding something else completely. It has to do with your recent... exertions with your fellow Grey Warden that I overheard.

Alistair: My...? Oh.

Zevran: It did seem as if you just got going when all grew quiet. You are... feeling all right, yes? Perhaps you are tired?

Alistair: We aren't talking about this, are we? Did I hit my head?

Zevran: I have some roots from home that you may chew if you need energy. As for volume, perhaps you ought to try arching your--

Alistair: Whoa! Whoa! Awkward!

Zevran: You Fereldens are so finicky. How will you ever learn how to pleasure each other unless you talk about it?

Alistair: Not listening! La la la la la!

I hope everybody likes this fan art! Notice the date on it? Yes! I drew this a year ago. Why did I not post it on Tumblr before? *Facepalm* Really though...I hope this is well received & enjoyed. This year I have felt like a failure when it comes to art, for it honestly seems like people prefer digital art over traditional art. Is this so? I love traditional art...I don't want it to die out. Even worse is that some people prefer AI "art" (more like ART THEFT!) over real artists. It can be hard to be an artist sometimes. Don't get me wrong. I love digi art, too. But often my heart yearns for more traditional artwork, as it often gets tossed aside. I feel that is one reason why I had not done well with my art on Instagram. From now on, I will only be posting art here on Tumblr. Thank you to ALL of you who have liked and shared my artwork. You mean a lot to me and I appreciate you in supporting me. PLEASE let me know if you draw Dragon Age fan art, too! I'd love to see it.

Drawn with Sakura Pigma Micron pens and then coloured in with a mix of Copics and Ohuhu markers. White accents done with a gel pen. Background was done in Photoshop Elements.

Zevran Arainai & Dragon Age Origins (c) Bioware & Electronic Arts

#dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age zevran #zevran #zevran arainai #dragon age rogue #dragon age elf #dragon age fan art #dragon age origins fan art #zevran fanart #zevran arainai fan art #dalish #bioware #electronic arts #ea games #fantasy art #elf art

[humanpurposes]

Karma is a God

Chapter 6: Winterfell

The Dance of the Dragons begins on a lie, and Aemond owes a debt, one Lucerra will see repaid in Fire and Blood // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond x Lucerra Velaryon (fem!Lucerys)

Warnings for this chapter: grief/mourning, mentions of death

Words: 5700

A/n: Originally posted on AO3, posting to Tumblr before I get back to regular updates.

“You never told me why Maegor had so many wives.” The little girl with dark hair asked, curled under her uncle’s arm.

The boy with silver hair didn’t look up from the pages of the book he held on his lap. “Shouldn’t you read the history books yourself?” The girl hummed smugly and nestled further into his side, she knew he would never refuse her. He sighed. “Because he wanted an heir.”

“Why?”

“It is the duty of a King to ensure the succession of his bloodline, for the security of the realm.”

“But he never succeeded.”

“No, all the children born of Maegor’s wives were stillborn.”

She contemplated this for a moment. “Why?”

“Some say he was cursed after he killed his nephew.”

That story she had heard of, how the Conqueror's son and grandson had waged war against each other for the throne. How Aegon the Uncrowned had led his armies from atop his Dragon, Quicksilver, to claim the crown worn by his father, while his uncle, rider of Balerion, had met him above the God’s Eye. Her grandfather had told her countless tales of the Black Dread. Poor Quicksilver never stood a chance. 

She shifted herself to lay her back against him, rearing her head back so she could see his face. “Aemond?”

His eyes were still on his book as he gave a distant “hmm?”

“When will I marry?”

She felt his breathing still and his heart beat a little faster. “When you are of age, I would expect.”

“When will that be?”

“You will be a woman grown when you are six and ten, so a decade from now. Or perhaps less, my mother was married at four and ten.”

She kept her wide eyes fixed upon his face, mapping the freckles against his soft pale skin. “Will my husband be cruel?”

He shook his head a little. “I hardly think your mother would allow that.”

“What of Maegor’s Black Brides? Why did their mothers not protect them?”

He closed the book, slowly, with a light thud as the pages came together. He placed it on the table before him and let his arm find his way around her. “You’re the granddaughter of the King, you’ll always be well protected by your family.”

She hauled herself up and came to sit on her knees on the settee beside him. “And you?”

He rolled his eyes, in the way he always did when she asked him foolish questions. “Yes, I will protect you.”

She held her hand up to him, little fingers outstretched. “Promise?”

He placed his hand against hers, letting his fingers intertwine between hers and close around her knuckles. She did the same in return. “I promise, Lucerra.”

*

This time, when she wakes, the world feels real. 

Her body melts into a soft mattress, too soft really, she could almost be floating– no . She is grounded. She is awake. She is alive.

She breathes, lets herself feel the air rushing into her lungs and her back pressing a little further into the bed. She is aware of every sensation against her skin, the bandages over her torso, the thick nightshift and the heavy fur throw over her body.

Her eyes see the room as it is, not like the vague blur she scarcely remembers of the hut by Shipbreaker Bay. The light is low but it is comforting. Daylight seeps in through the shutters and gaps in the curtains, but mostly the room is lit by a roaring fire that crackles and hums from a grey stone fireplace. It is small, smaller than her bedchamber at Dragonstone, but it feels full enough, with a pair of settees before the fireplace, a chest of draws, a dining table and a copper bathtub in the corner. All of the wood is dark and all the upholstery black.

She had almost forgotten what stillness feels like, what warmth feels like, what her thoughts sound like now that her pain seems to have mostly numbed. That is, until she tries to sit up and a sharpness in her chest holds her down against the bed.

The wind howls against the walls and, for a moment, she can almost believe she is home, if she keeps her eyes closed and imagines the smell of smoke and the sound of the sea–

A coldness washes over her. She tastes salt on her tongue. Her heart pounds in her chest as she frantically fights to breathe. The edges of the room seem to fade, until all she sees is the furious glow of the fire, but even that fades… the rain beats against her leathers as her hands pull on Arrax’s reins. An open jaw comes to claim a debt.

She doesn’t see his face as she falls but she hears his voice. It’s not the chilling whisper she had heard in that hidden corner of the Red Keep, it’s grating, hoarse and desperate. “LUKE!”

She keeps falling, further and further, until she forgets where she fell from.

“Luke?” A softer voice drags her from the storm. 

Her head snaps to the side of the bed, to the boy who has appeared before her, a boy with unruly curls and eyes as dark as hers. Her hand drifts towards him and settles against his cheek.

He’s real. He’s here. “Jace…”

Her brother has changed in the weeks they have been apart. His eyes are tired, his skin is paler, and when he smiles it is a sad thing. He places his hand over hers and presses her further against him.

He whispers her name, over and over again, like he can’t believe what his eyes are so plainly telling him. 

“Mother,” she breathes, hand trembling against his cheek, “does she know?”

“You’ve been asleep for a few hours,” he says delicately, slowly taking her hand and lowering it to her side against the mattress. “I sent a raven to Dragonstone as soon as you arrived; she will know by the day’s end.”

Her memories are hazy, though now she starts to think, most of it comes flooding back; the flight from the Stormlands, how the dragon had settled below her, how she had pushed herself onto her hands and looked past it’s head to see a sprawling complex of a castle, looming through the distance and the snowfall.

The thought of being a guest at another Lord’s castle filled her with dread, but she understands now. She wanted to go home, and the dragon had brought her to Jace.

“The maester said it’s a marvel you’re still alive, such injuries are often fatal if left untreated for this long. But you are here now, broken bones and all.

She looks down at the bandages over her chest and her limbs, squeezing down around her skin, but the pain has mostly faded. “What happened?” She asks, “how long has it been?”

“You flew to Storm’s End a day and a fortnight ago. I was still at the Eerie, and mother sent a raven. She said you hadn’t returned, she was planning on going to the Stormlands herself to uncover the truth but then- ugh.” He swallows down a sob and his eyes drift down.

“What?”

He takes a slow breath. “Then news came from King’s Landing. Apparently Aemond declared his so-called-victory to the court and Aegon threw a feast in his honour. The world thought you dead and they celebrated .”

She hadn’t thought it possible to overestimate Aemond’s hatred for her. What a crushing thing it is to be proved wrong.

“He meant to kill me,” she whispers. “He chased us down through a storm and laughed as he did it.”

“I should have gone with you. I should have protected you. I should never have suggested this in the first place.”

“Please,” she says, vaguely waving her hand to stop him. It isn’t his fault, surely he knows that, but aside from that, she can’t bear the whining melancholy.

Jace’s head falls. “I’m sorry about Arrax, I hear his remains were found by Baratheon’s men in the sea below Storm’s End. But you have a new mount I see. He’s impressive, though I can’t say I recognise him.”

She supposes she owes her life to the dragon that carried her here. She too had no recollection of this dragon at the Dragonmount, or in the Dragon Pit back at King’s Landing, but she had heard tales, on the days she and Rhaena had gone to visit the village on Dragonstone, of a dragon that had never known a rider, that spent its days flying low over the Narrow Sea and fishing for prey.

“It’s Grey Ghost,” she decides. “He must have saved me from the fall, and then he found me, he came to me at the dock at Rainwood.”

“Rainwood? You must tell me more of your travels when you are better rested.”

“It’s not a particularly exciting story. I’m not sure I remember most of it.” She’s not sure if she wants to either.

A soft knock sounds at the door. Jace looks to her with an expectant expression. She tilts her head and nods her approval. She tries to sit up but he puts his arms out to stop her. 

And so in strides the Warden of the North, dressed in a thick, fur lined cloak, his dark hair falling in ringlets to his shoulders, his sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, and his blue eyes as piercing and pale as ice.

She can’t help but wince at her own appearance, a Princess, in a nightgown, her brow coated in a thin layer of sweat, her hair falling limply around her shoulders, unable to even sit up to mark his entry.

“Princess Lucerra,” he says with a warm voice and a bow. “What a relief it is to know you are well, and an honour it is to welcome you to Winterfell.”

The castle’s maester won’t let her leave the room, or spend too long standing if it can be helped, which, for the first few days, she does not protest against.

Jace spends as much time as he can in her presence, eating his meals at the dining table, reading letters before the fire, or just sitting by his sister’s side. Sometimes she wakes to hear faint sobs, which disappear as soon as he realises she’s awake.

She has read of the North in books. A savage place, as Aegon used to tell her, where men fight each other for scraps like dogs, the women are miserable and misbehaving children are fed to the wolves. Aemond would rebuke such claims of course, but said it was dull, a cold wasteland, no place for a dragon. 

Cold it may be but dull it is not. From the window in her bedchamber she sees the blanket of white snow that shimmers under the sun’s gold beams. It reminds her of the sea, looking out over Blackwater Bay from the Red Keep, or the Narrow Sea from Dragonstone, how the water would glitter like rhinestones when the sky was clear.

Her heart aches for home, for her family. She’s been gone for so long, and to think they must have mourned her for weeks.

She imagines their faces. Her mother’s quiet grief for King Viserys, the pain of Visenya’s brief life being snatched from her very arms. Daemon’s seething rage, restrained only by the duty to his Queen. Joffrey’s confusion. The haunted expressions worn by Baela and Rhaena. Through it all, Aegon and Viserys were still blissfully unaware of the world around them.

Tears trickle down her face. How would they have reacted, after hearing the news from Storm’s End? The thought weighs down on her chest, and she tries not to choke on her sobs. 

She finds Jace’s arms around her own as he draws her head onto his shoulder. “You’re alright now,” he whispers, “we’ll all be alright.”

The next morning she feels well enough to hobble to the dining table to eat a few spoonfuls of porridge with Jace. He tells her of his journey to the Eerie, his successful negotiations with Jeyne Arryn, his time in White Harbour, and the days he has spent at Winterfell, hunting, feasting and flying Vermax over Wolfswood.

“He’s restless,” Jace says of his mount, “I think it’s the cold, he needs the warmth of the Dragonmount.”

“What of Grey Ghost?” Luke asks.

“He doesn’t seem to be fond of Vermax, I can tell you that much,” he chuckles, “but other than that, I have not seen much of him. Truth be told I thought he might have fled back South. He’s been wild for so long, I don’t suppose he’s used to having a rider.”

With Arrax, there was a presence in her chest, a window into her dragon’s very soul existing in her heart. They fed off each other, their feelings, their fears, their instincts. Something has replaced that feeling now. She feels the emptiness of Arrax’s loss, and yet something lingers. It’s faint, but it is there nonetheless. For the first time in her life, she feels a longing for isolation, only she cannot tell if it is hers or her dragon’s. “He’s nearby, I can feel him.”

Jace takes his leave for the day. For a time she admires the small glimpse of the world she can get from the window, until her chest starts to feel tight again. The maester checks on her, gives her a tea that tastes of herbs and cinnamon, offers her a salve for the bruising, instructs a maid to help her bathe. 

“You’ll be alright, Princess,” he assures her, “the main concern now is relieving the pain and rebuilding your strength.”

If indeed she had it to begin with.

She replays Storm’s End in her mind over and over again. She’s sure she can still hear the clatter of Aemond’s dagger against the floor ringing in her ears. To think she had held even a glimmer of hope, that they might salvage the friendship they once had, she must have been delusional. Of course he wouldn’t forgive her. Of course he’d seek to punish her. But he’d got what he wanted now, his triumph, his victory, his debt repaid, celebrated in the court of a false King with all the other traitors.

But what of that night, in the Keep? She was so sure he was going to pry her eye from her socket, in that empty chamber, where no one would hear her screams and no one would think to come looking for her.

A familiar restlessness rises in her gut. In her mind she sees his hands, trailing down her torso and slipping beneath her skirts. The memory of his breath against her neck is cold. He meant to humiliate her surely. To tempt her and punish her for it. 

She digs her nails into a palm and huffs a grunt to the empty space around her. She supposes even thinking about it would give him leverage over her, even when he has revelled in her death. She will not allow it.

So she curls into her pillow, trying to push the memories of the boy with silver hair out of her mind. He is gone, and so is the foolish little girl who once trailed after him.

A knock at the door pulls her away from everything. She bolts upright, frantically wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing her fingers through her hair. “Come in!” She calls. 

Jace enters, followed by Lord Stark. Their boots leave trails of snow in their wake. She looks between their pale faces and stony expressions. Jace is clutching a letter in his hand. 

She doesn’t know why but her heart sinks. “Mother?” 

Jace offers a quick glance to Lord Stark, who in turn gives a slow nod of his head. “We’ve received word from Dragonstone. Mother is… relieved at your condition.”

“Relieved? ” Hardly the reaction she had been expecting, but Jace’s expression doesn’t soften. His hands are trembling, and he can hardly bring his gaze higher than the bed. 

Lord Stark places a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. When Jace remains silent, he takes a deep breath. “Prince Jaehaerys and Princess Jaehaera are dead.”

She wonders if this is a dream. She says it in her head over and over again, still, it doesn’t quite sink in.

Lord Stark continues. “It appears, Prince Daemon took it upon himself to see your death avenged, Princess.”

“But I am not dead,” she mutters.

“Evidently not.”

She had not seen much of Helaena, and less of her children. They were dreamy, happy little things, playing with their toy dragons on the floor and babbling to one another. They had the same wispy silver hair as her youngest brothers, the same hair Visenya might have had.

Daemon had been waiting for this. He had been subdued for six years, but the beast had been set free the moment news came of the King’s death. She had seen it, the anger, the hunger, the bloodlust. But her mother? “The Queen surely cannot have allowed this.”

“The deed is done,” Jace says suddenly. His voice is deflated, nothing like the proud Prince he’s been growing into these past few years. “And now we must deal with the consequences.”

“Aegon has named Ser Criston Cole as his hand,” Lord Stark explains at Luke’s stunned expression, “Otto Hightower’s war of letters is at an end.”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “I take it then you have agreed to pledge your banners to my mother’s cause?” 

“He has,” Jace says. His chest rises and his tongue peeks between hip lips. He’s hiding something else, but he won’t say it. “I make for Dragonstone, immediately.”

“I’ll come with you-”

“No.” He finds the demand in his voice now, holding his hands up like she’ll make a run for her dragon then and there. “You are in no condition to fly. You’ll stay here, where it is safe.”

“You can’t expect me to stay, not after everything that’s happened-”

“Luke!” She sees the anger flashing in his face, but it fades in an instant. His eyes widen and his brows furrow. He looks so young now, so helpless. “I thought I lost you once before, do not ask me to even consider that possibility again.”

She bites down on her lip. She does not doubt the grief her brother has gone through after Storm’s End, only to discover it had all been a lie. And yet she feels no sympathy for him. Pain has left her bitter.

He doesn’t seem to realise it, but his hand drifts up, resting over Lord’s Stark’s. “You’ll be in good hands here, Cregan will protect you until you can return to Dragonstone.”

“But who better to protect me than my family?”

“Do not argue with me! I am your brother, but I am also your Prince and the heir to the throne. You are to remain here until I send for you. Do you understand?”

She huffs a few breaths, desperate to keep her voice calm and controlled. “Jace, you cannot keep me from mother, from Joffrey and the others without cause.”

He snatches his hand away from his shoulder. “As a matter of fact, we do have cause. I didn’t wish to tell you like this, but Lord Stark and I have agreed on a marriage pact.”

She frowns, and then it starts to sink in.

“When did you decide this, before or after you thought I was dead?”

“As I said, the circumstances are regrettable-”

“Regrettable?” She spits, “do I not deserve a say in my own prospects?”

Stark excuses himself and gently shuts the door behind him.

“Do not forget yourself, sister. You are the daughter of the Queen, a Princess of the realm. Cregan- Lord Stark is a kind, gentle and honourable man, he will be a good husband to you, I would not allow anything less.”

“But you’re leaving me, when we’ve already been apart for so long. I just want to go home.”

“We are at war now, Luke. You’ve seen the danger we face. Things just aren’t that simple.”

The closest compromise they come to is Luke trawling herself down from her bedchamber to the courtyard. A maid walks with her, an outstretched arm ready to catch her if she stumbles or tires, but she is determined that each step should be her own, no matter how stiff her movements are.

Vermax is waiting outside the castle gates, his familiar screeching, rippling purrs calling out over the battlements. Jace is once again in his riding leathers, identical to the ones she had worn to Storm’s End, though he wears a thick, black, fur lined cloak over his shoulders, rather than the red he left Dragonstone with. 

The Prince kneels to little Rickon Stark, no older than their own Aegon, and shakes his hand. The heir to the throne and the heir to Winterfell are just boys, grinning at each other through the formalities.

Then he comes to Lord Stark himself. Their parting words are fleeting, spoken too softly to reach the ears of those around them, but they bid their farewells as brothers, gripping each other by the shoulders, until Jace pulls him into an embrace that lingers just a moment too long.

And then he wanders to stand before her. He pulls her into a tight hug. It hurts against the bandages around her chest but she doesn’t mind the pain.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters against her hair. “I’m so sorry…”

She cannot remember a life without her brother, how could she? He has been there since her very first breath, when her mind was a clean slate, when her skin was unbroken, before she knew what memories were. He was always there, just as Arrax was. 

And now, when she thought her losses could get no greater, she watches Vermax ascend with a proud roar that echoes over the snow covered hills and the ancient walls of the castle. She watches the sky until the flash of green scales disappear through the clouds, blinking snowflakes out of her eyes.

Behind her comes a soft crunch of snow under heavy boots. “I do not hope I have offended you, Princess.”

She finally tears her eyes away from the sky and to her betrothed. She makes her best attempt at a soft smile but somehow it feels wrong. “Why would you think I am offended?"

The look in his eye is one of pity. Clearly he is not persuaded. “I understand our union is not one of your choosing,” he says, taking a step forward, “but I wish to assure you that I will be a good husband, whatever form that may take for you. I already have my Rickon, so we needn’t-”

“I trust my brother’s judgement,” she says, her eyes falling to her boots. That much has been true for sixteen years, but now it feels like another lie. “A few weeks ago, my life was quite unremarkable. Now I can hardly believe what my mind tells me is true.”

“It is a rude awakening to be sure, Princess. Youth and innocence are fragile things, to be snatched so cruelly from us, and so suddenly.”

Gods know she is no stranger to death. She could still remember so clearly the way Jace had cried and twisted his way from their mother’s grip when news came of the fire at Harrenhal. She had simply frowned. Harwin Strong had already left them once before, to return to his father’s seat, promising to send letters and in time, return to them, promises he would never fulfill.

And then it kept happening. Aunt Laena, in Luke’s mind a faceless woman, but so deeply mourned by her daughters. Then Ser Laenor, the man who had given her his name and so much more than that, his body found in the Sea Snake’s own hall, charred beyond recognition.

And she is certainly no stranger to blood, to rage sparked by fear and the regret that follows.

Life at Winterfell is quiet. She knows she will surely be driven to madness if she waits out the war in the confines of her bedchamber. Her walk down to the courtyard had been fuelled by stubbornness and spite, now she must go slowly. Each day she tries to go a little further, pacing the room despite her rigid movements and the tightness in her chest and her back, but she bites her lip and forces herself through it.

One morning she walks to the door. Another day she walks down the corridor. A week after Jace’s departure she can reach the entrance hall. A week after that she finds her way back down to the courtyard.

Little Rickon grasps a small wooden sword in his hand, landing determined but feeble blows against a straw dummy, letting out little squeaks and grunts as he goes. 

A warm laugh sounds from the balcony above. “We’ll make a wolf out of you yet, pup!” Beams the boy’s father. She tries to dispel a sudden sadness at his admiring expression. It’s exactly how Harwin Strong used to watch Jace in the training yard. 

She strolls across the yard, the wide skirt of her Stark black dress dragging over the dirt and the snow, to a weapons table. Her hands grip around the hilt of the smallest blade she can find, which is still twice the weight of the sword she brought to Storm’s End. There- another loss. Perhaps if she went back to that beach by Rainwood it might be hidden somewhere in the sand. 

“Forgive me, Princess, I’m not sure you’re in the best state for such pursuits.”

Her smirk comes naturally as she looks over her shoulder to her host. “You think I can’t handle a sword, Lord Stark?”

“On the contrary, Jace says you’re rather skilled.”

“I’ve been mentored by Laenor Velaryon, Harwin Strong and the Rogue Prince himself,” she says, puffing her chest up a little, only to wince at a flash of pain in her ribs. She huffs a laugh at her own presumption. “But no, clearly I have a way to recover yet.”

He steps into her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body against her back, even through her coat. He places his hand over hers and lifts the blade with his own strength. “It might be good for you, to build up your strength again.” 

But when his breath echoes over her cheek the world goes dark. The smell of leather and smoke overwhelms her senses. A flash of silver hair falls over her shoulder. A cold voice whispers, “bastard… whore.”

She wrenches herself away and feels no pain as she hurries back to her bedchamber.

At least she starts to find some normalcy. True to his word, Cregan Stark is patient and gentle, if a little more distant after their encounter in the courtyard. She dines with the Lord and his son, builds strength in her arms with a sword and discovers the grip in her fingers on the string of a bow. 

But as she waits, the world below the Neck descends into chaos. Letters from Dragonstone are sparse, despite Jace’s promises, so mostly she hears news from Lord Stark. The Riverlands have seen the most fighting so far thanks to the Blackwoods and the Brackens, and Daemon’s capturing of Harrenhal. Lord Stark intends to amass his banners and march to join him, though it could take moons to do so. 

She hears little news of her mother, which scares her.

The restlessness is unbearable. She can’t sit still. Can’t sleep without tossing and turning until the first birds start chirping before dawn.

There is perhaps one thing she thinks may provide some comfort, or at the very least, purpose.

Grey Ghost is an elusive creature, but he is never far. He lurks among the trees of Wolfswood and the stone of the Lonely Hills. The two meet at a lake, a few miles Northeast of Winterfell. When she can mount a horse, that is where she goes, with Lord Stark by her side.

Her dragon will not be seen if that is what he desires, and more often than not he does not want to be found. She feels him though, the uncertainty in his heart and how he misses the sea.

She waits by the lakeshore, skimming pebbles over the icy water, while Lord Stark waits beyond the treeline with the horses.

Find me. She calls silently to the space in her heart where a dragon should be.

A whistling screech carries over the mountains and he comes to her. He settles further down the shore before he stalks towards her. She holds up her palm, taking slow steps to meet him, heart fluttering in her chest.

As her skin meets his snout, her hand stops shaking, and the dragon gives an accepting purr. A warmth builds within her, not like the fury of dragonfire, it’s slow and glowing, like the red embers of a dying hearth. Each breath of her lungs is like a breath into the fire.

She feels a little more alive every time they meet.

“I must admit, even with Jace’s teachings, I cannot begin to understand these creatures,” Lord Stark says on their ride back to the castle.

“We’re learning together, my Lord, Grey Ghost is as new to me as he is to you.”

“You are bound though, yes? Jace said he and Vermax have been bonded since birth, that the same was true for you and Arrax. How can you simply claim another dragon?”

It is not simple though. She cannot pinpoint the moment she and Grey Ghost were bound, but reason tells her she could not have survived the fall from Arrax without something to break it. “It is different,” she says. “Arrax was as much a part of me as my soul is to my body, we were together all of our lives. With Grey Ghost, it’s not nature that binds us, I think it is a choice.”

He smiles. “That’s a beautiful way to say it.”

When they reach the courtyard, Cregan helps her down from her saddle, careful to keep his hands away from her waist, she notes. A man is waiting for them, letter in hand. In times of war, letters are an omen as much as they are a relief. Luke holds her lip between her teeth.

“We’ve received word from Dragonstone, my Lord. Perhaps you should read for yourself.”

Cregan waits for her nod of approval before he takes it and cracks open the wax seal of her mother. He reads it quickly, and looks back to Luke. “Princess Rhaenys is dead.”

Her heart stops.

Cregan shakes his head and takes a step towards her. “My condolences Princess-”

“How?” She asks.

He looks over the letter again with a heavy sigh. “Lord Staunton asked for aid to defend Rook’s Rest. Princess Rhaenys went atop her dragon, Meleys, but she was ambushed. Vhagar and Sunfyre were waiting for her.”

If Luke had room in her heart for sorrow she might cry, but she doesn’t. Not as she remembers the stern looking woman with silver hair, her father’s mother, who had seemed all too content to ignore her Velaryon grandchildren until the Hightowers came to strike their first blow. Not as she looks up to the sky and imagines a flurry of fire and talons. Against Vhagar alone, Meleys might have stood a chance. 

She tries to force the sadness out of herself. Rhaenys is dead. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are dead. Arrax is dead. Visenya was never alive. The cost of war increases every day and the bodies are starting to pile high. But the tears do not come.

“There’s more,”

She snaps her head around to look back at Lord Stark. His eyes glisten, but his face is in a frown. “Aegon the usurper is close to death. The Greens have named Aemond Prince Regent and Lord Protector in his stead.”

A coldness crawls over her skin. 

“Lucerra-”

She screams, a throaty screech that only lasts for a moment but cuts clean through the cold air and startles the horses. The courtyard silences in an instant.

Her body is frozen, eyes wide and breath haggard as her cry lingers in an echo off the walls. She swallows, forcing some moisture down her throat, but there’s not much she needs to say.

She rushes to her horse and hauls herself back up onto the saddle. It squirms beneath her, despite the reassuring strokes she drags along its neck, though she herself is hardly in a position to inspire calm.

“Lucerra,” Cregan says, gripping the reins before she can turn back towards the gates. “Wait, for a moment.”

“I must return to Dragonstone.”

“I am not sure that would be wise-”

“I am not seeking your permission,” she snaps with cold and deadly precision. 

“You cannot leave, Princess.” He holds his palm before her. A thin cut slices over his skin, mostly healed, but still present. A reminder of a promise sealed with blood. “I swore an oath to your brother. I swore I would protect you.”

As she looks down at his eyes, for a moment she realises just how young the Warden of the North is. Older than her, but by a matter of years. 

“And you have given no cause to suggest otherwise. But I will not stand by idly while my family…” then the tears come, suddenly, like a plunge into the cold dark of the sea. If Rhaenys could not stand to defeat Vhagar, what chance would Vermax, Moondancer, Tyraxes, even little Stormcloud have?

She will not see her mother bury another child. 

Within the hour she mounts Grey Ghost. He keeps them hidden as he flies through the clouds, scales blending seamlessly into the gloom of the morning. She feels his silent pleas for home in her head. Our home.

She knows what must be done. She only hopes she has the strength to see this through.

She may have taken his eye, but Aemond Targaryen owes a debt, one she will see paid in fire and blood.

a/n: rather than listing every chapter and having to go back and edit every post I made a series masterlist (link at the top). So to see the other chapters you can look there or go to my main masterlist 🩵

Tags: @randomdragonfires @boundlessfantasy @toodlesxcuddles @starwarssslut @skikikikiikhhjuuh @arcielee

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond x ofc #aemond x fem!lucerys #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #aemond x original female character #aemond x reader #my fics #karma is a god

[dbgdbw]

273+274.Even Upon Review (1&2)

- I blocked the path.

The Changeling said. The Innocuous King, who had been leeching mist into the surroundings, looked balefully at us with hostile eyes. Incapable of taking the initiative to attack, she only watched us with the caged agitation of an injured animal.

“And what could that dragon possibly be, hm? To block a path that had already been created–it’s impossible. A hole that’s been torn open can only continue to increase, it shouldn’t be capable of being sealed!”

- ‘S why I created a new barrier. Now, you can’t leave. You’re trapped. The surrounding area’s been locked down too. This place is my domain now.

“You put up a new one, you said?”

- Mhn.

As though asking didn’t I do a good job?, the Changeling rubbed its round, tiny horned head against my shoulder. The Innocuous King’s body shook with tightly restrained tremors. The immensely bewildered, uncertain expression had only lasted for a moment; in a cold voice, she issued a threat.

“I may have expended a substantial amount of energy to fashion a path, but I’m certainly not weak, Nurturer. I’ll extend my congratulations, in that you’ve delayed the end for your World. However, making an enemy of me at this juncture will only bode ill for us bo–”

“Shut your mouth.”

Using the tip of my finger, I stroked the silver dragon’s head. Its eyes glittering, the Changeling whispered to me that things were alright, in a tiny voice. Its tail was even wagging, too. Using a voice that only I could hear, it communicated.

[ I might not have any combat abilities, but I’m capable of ‘realizing’ <illusions>. If appa’s abilities from the mental realm are ‘realized’, then winning should be easy. Since I still have a bit of strength leftover, even after putting up the barrier, it should be sustainable for an hour. ]

Alright.

“My dongsaeng’s memory, hand it over. Now.”

If you weren’t willing to comply, then I’d gladly start by mincing up those damn tentacles into 0.1mm pieces, until I managed to clear my way to jackpot. At my words, the Innocuous King began backing away slowly, eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Such a fuss, over a measly watch.”

“So you do have it, after all.”

“It’s safe for now. But I can dissolve it and swallow it down any time I please. Your dongsaeng’s small and inconsequential memory–how precious is it to you?”

A small marble appeared, held between the Innocuous King’s tentacles. It was a pure white orb, maybe the size of half a thumbnail. As though she had seized hold of my weakness, the jellyfish bastard beamed.

“It’s the first proper gift he’s prepared for the hyung he loves so much. It looks like he wrapped it up himself, how adorable. He wasn’t able to gift you anything significant before, huh, on account of his age. And since you’d banned him from doing part-time jobs, too. He’s feeling elated. And aflutter, besides.”

“...I told you to hand it over, you spineless jelly piece of shit.” 

My teeth reflexively ground together. Though I couldn’t attack hastily, like hell I was gonna let that fucker get away. 

“Let’s draw up a contract that stipulates we won’t interfere with the other. Hmm? You in regards to me, and me in regards to your dongsaeng. As soon as I’m released from here, I’ll ask Chatterbox to quietly take me away.”

It seemed that, though it might take a considerable amount of power for an otherworldly being to enter, leaving wasn’t nearly so trying. After all, she had mentioned even the S-ranks that verged closer to SS-rank could still be extracted. But since she’d also framed it as ‘submitting a request’, it seemed one’s own strength still wouldn’t be enough. Like how someone who’d fallen into a well would struggle to pull themselves out, but it would be easy enough with someone helping them from the outside–was it like that, perhaps.

“And why should I, exactly.”

“If you want to retrieve your precious dongsaeng’s memory, you’ll do it.”

“I’ll be taking it back, of course, but I don’t feel inclined to let your ass off the hook, either. ‘That we won’t interfere with the other’? As-fucking-if. If you were going to give up so easily, you wouldn’t have put yourself in this kind of situation, with those kinds of stakes, someone like you. I can already see you coaxing the other Transcendents over to your side the moment you get out.”

Most importantly, I couldn’t let that bastard go around blabbing about me. The Newcomer hadn’t been able to scry into the artificial World, but the Innocuous King had been different. Since she’d even gone to the extent of personally contracting with that horse-head, she would’ve been able to get her hands on significantly more intel.

If it got out that my ‘value’ outweighed the potential risks, then not just myself, but the people around me would also come to be endangered by association. So I absolutely couldn’t let the Innocuous King just walk away from this. 

“...so you’re giving up on your dongsaeng? How heartless.”

“Get a load of this thief spouting off victim-blaming bullshit. I thought it was just a spine that you were missing, but it seems like you lost your brain somewhere along the way too. Ah, is that why you go around stealing others’ memories. Since there’s nothing rattling around in that empty skull of yours.”

“Nurturer-ssi, the way you talk is kind of aggravating.”

Curling in on itself slightly, the silver dragon spread its wings wide. Even with my mana seal placed under stasis, I could still faintly sense the flare of mana. The Innocuous King backed away even further, but was unable to escape from the premises. 

“Preserving my dongsaeng’s memory at any cost is going to be the only prayer you have at a reprieve. Since I won’t be able to let any harm come to it from my hand. So cling tightly to it and flounder as best you can. But even if I’m unable to get it back.”

Even then.

“What’s to come is more important. Since, if the world stays safe, then I can offer even more, even better, happier memories to my dongsaeng.”

I didn’t want to lose Yoohyunie’s memory. But I couldn’t exchange the present–the future– just for that. I’d be the one to gift him a watch. Even if I couldn’t have the watch from him, we would continue to give and receive other things from each other. 

The Innocuous King showed a thin smile.

“Acting like you’re fine, hmm.”

“Though I’m not just pretending, and really am fine.”

“Oh? When you look like a total wreck, in my eyes. In any case–then, I’ll ‘flounder’ as you’ve said...!”

화���, a thick wave of mist suddenly billowed outwards. I’d already taken the prerogative to activate Eunhae. The Changeling’s magical energy wrapped itself around me, and I could feel the stats that had been waning suddenly spike. 

While the <Lauchitas’ Natural Enemy> wouldn’t apply, I still had <2X> my dongsaeng’s abilities from pre-regression; Alpha, Delta, Mu, and Lambda’s Skills; as well as the <Veteran F-Rank> Title. What was unexpected was.

‘So Yoohyunie’s Stats pre-regression were a bit higher than an SS-rank Guard’s.’

That’s to say, his pure output values, without factoring in the effects of the doubling buff. But since the grade of ‘S-Rank’ was supposed to encompass the maximum ability threshold of each given World’s race, it may just have been that, despite being the same ‘human beings,’ the overall ability potential of our world was higher on average. 

As for his attack Skill potential, it easily surpassed SSS-rank. Perhaps as a result of my Stats going up, the stasis lock on my mana seal released, and I became able to sense the flow of mana moving around me crystal-clear. Senses that had become greatly reinforced, compared to being at F-rank, suffered no repercussions.

Due to the fog obscuring my sight and senses, I couldn’t pinpoint where that jellyfish bastard might be, but just like the Changeling had said, I was the one with the upper hand. Despite that, I didn’t have any intentions of moving hastily. 

I needed to recover my dongsaeng’s memory. Since that bastard couldn’t run from here, anyway, I could save forfeiting as a last resort.

‘Though it wouldn’t be difficult to steal it back, if I could only use Mu’s spatial traversal Skill properly.’

But the spatial traversal Skill was far more finicky than Yerimie’s teleportation Skill. If I dumped the entire hour I had into that spatial movement Skill… Pondering that line of thought, I drew a fingertip through the air. The line of dark red flames that blossomed forth burned up the fog, and.

“Take your hands off, I said! Hey!”

“An actual monster, you say? Not a cat? While a Dungeon Break has yet to be reported in that vicinity, regardless, I’m afraid that you should be contacting the Specialized Dungeon Affairs Division, and not a police line.”

“I’m afraid we can’t help you here–however, the interim Hunter Association’s number is… Hello?”

A police station, bustling even in the dead of night, came into view. ‘Specialized Dungeon Affairs Division’, ‘Interim Hunter Association’. It was half a year after the Dungeons had appeared. In a world where monsters had begun to emerge, the drunks who had been dragged in after still brazenly wandering around inebriated–displaced from that crowd, a young man, his face bleached pale, walked in, pushing open the glass doors. 

It was me.

Brimming with anxiety, I grabbed hold of an officer and opened my mouth. The voice that came out was hoarse, and shaken.

“Please, sir, my dongsaeng still hasn’t returned home.”

'This hasn’t  ever happened before,' and 'he's never been gone this late without saying anything'; when I said as much, the police officer asked for details. but his expression turned abruptly disinterested when he heard that it was a highschool-aged boy. He only became more apathetic when he heard that parents weren’t in the picture. 

“As it hasn’t even been a day since, please wait a bit longer before reporting him as a runaway. Do make sure to bring documentation with proof of familial status when you do, as well.”

“He’s not a runaway! He’s never once been late without sending word ahead, Yoohyunie…!”

“It’s a common situation. He may have made the wrong friends–you may as well attempt to contact his school, once business hours are open.”

I shrunk down under eyes that seemed to ask whether it wasn't only to be expected of someone with his home life. As I was asked whether I knew any of my dongsaeng’s friends’ contact information, my shoulders hunched in further and further. 

“E-even then, if maybe, he happened to run into a monster…….”

“As most incidents are handled fairly quickly and the results promptly announced, so long as there were no relevant postings, then he is most likely safe.”

In a curt voice, he went on to mention that, otherwise, I could attempt to verify things by checking the list of unclaimed casualties on the Specialized Dungeon Affairs Division’s homepage. Confronted with an attitude that suggested the conversation was over and done with, I hesitated for a moment before helplessly turning away. Mumbling under my breath that it can’t be, that’s not true, there’s no way Yoohyunie would. 

“...what’s with this.”

Disbelieving laughter leaked out.

“You said, she wouldn’t be able to rifle through my memories.”

- This is a scenario that’s been generated from appa. Ordinarily, it’d be easy to slip out of it with appa’s abilities being what they are at present, but her Skill combining with my power’s intensified its effects..

It’d been a bad match-up, the Changeling said. That the Innocuous King’s fog, which inflicted agonizing memories on its targets, had entangled with its power to ‘realize’ illusions. But with that being said, I couldn’t retract the Changeling’s power now, either. 

I tried spreading out a wide berth of flames, calling down lightning, and bringing forth a flood; but the mirage still remained intact. 

“Cut the shit and get your ass out here right now!”

[ And why should I? ]

The jellyfish bastard’s voice drifted over faintly, from somewhere very far away.

[ Don’t fret. It’s not a Skill that can go on for too long. If you struggle, it should conclude even faster. So, shall we make a contract? If you quietly sit through all of it, then I’ll return your dongsaeng’s memory to you. Without a single scratch. ]

Since it’ll be difficult for me to win through brute force, she said, and I nodded. If it was right after I’d regressed–. No, if it had even been a month earlier, it would’ve been difficult for me to confront the past again, but. That it would be a immensely trying feat was unchanged, even now, but I at least had the confidence that I could somehow manage to withstand it.

I signed off on the contract that appeared. And then, the environment changed. 

“Hyung.”

A young–even younger than he was now–Yoohyunie looked at me. A youthful face, from when he had just yet Awakened. 

*

되짚어도 (2)

“W-what’re you saying, that’s…….”

I was trembling. Frightened.

“Even if, you’d Awakened… Yoohyunie, you, why would you need to become a Hunter. You’re still so young, not even a legal adult yet…….”

‘Han Yoojin-ssi, your dongsaeng is an S-rank Awakened’. It was a period when that phrase had yet to penetrate even the shell of my consciousness. Following the events of the initial Dungeon Shock incident, Awakened had begun to appear and a tentative infrastructure had started to take hold; but where the mundane population were concerned, it had only registered as ‘a calamity’, more or less.

‘Dungeons’ and ‘monsters’ were hitherto simply ‘unknown threats’. To myself, as well.

“Don’t pointlessly wander about, and stay in the house.”

I instructed my dongsaeng in a lowered voice. At least up till then, Yoohyunie had still shown his worry over me. If, back then, I’d only been obedient and gone along with my dongsaeng’s decision… No, I shouldn’t dwell on useless thoughts. That lizard bastard would’ve approached Yoohyunie sooner or later, and then we would’ve–. 

“Yoohyun-ah! Han Yoohyun!”

My dongsaeng left my side. I–left standing in place, dumbstruck–had been unable to come to terms with it. Overcome by the need to return things to the way they’d been before–whatever it took–I thrashed impotently against the change. Though the world had already become irrevocably changed.

“Yoohyun-ah, please…….”

I was begging, pleading desperately while clutching onto my cellphone. The wallpaper still showed our old home. My face looked gaunt, cheeks sunken in. When I’d been unable to eat, or sleep at all–a recollection of that time returned.

“Don’t pursue something like being a Hunter, hm? It’s dangerous, right. They say that, if something happens in a Dungeon, there’s not even a body left behind. Not even a corpse……. So when it’s a place like that, why would you go in there, Yoohyun-ah…….”

S-rank Hunter. It was a rank that scarcely merited a need for concern from others, particularly when the Dungeon difficulty rates back then had been on the lower end. But that sort of detail had hardly registered with the me of that time. Back then, grotesque rumors had run abound, and TV broadcasts continually droned on about the dangers ‘Dungeons’ and ‘monsters’ posed.

Since gear was in short supply, Hunters were scarce, and experience even harder to come by, it had been an era where mid- to low-ranked Hunters were given to dying even in low-difficulty Dungeons. ‘Failed Dungeon raid’, ‘Awakened…did not return’, ‘injury’, ‘death’, ‘missing in action’. 

I grew more and more wan with each passing day. Living in fear of the off chance that that familiar name might appear on the list of those injured, killed, or missing. Frequently, nightmares plagued me as well.

“Hyung will do better by you. So that I won’t fall short, I’ll try harder, so…….”

It was silent on the other end of the line. Rather than my state now, rather than my memory of this time, that fact made my heart ache even more. What would he have been thinking, while listening to my words. He wouldn’t have been unaware of the state I’d been in, so, what kind of emotions had he been–.

I was sobbing.

“...please don’t go into the Dungeons.”

Yoohyun-ah.

I hadn’t been able to understand, and my dongsaeng hadn’t been able to back down. In the face of the abrupt changes brought about by the chaos, both of us had been too young and inexperienced.

The money Yoohyunie had sent over, in a far cry from being put to use, had been sent back with gnashed teeth. To myself back then, that money had been nothing but a loathsome reminder; that which had been exchanged for my dongsaeng’s tender young life. Yoohyunie must have wished for me to lead a life of security with the living expenses he’d provided for me, but that hadn’t been something I could bring myself to accept. Rather, it had only served to increase my sense of helplessness. It felt as though there wasn’t anything I could offer. All I could do was ineffectually kick my feet. It was to the point that my conscription into the army had likely worked out for the better; I’d only been sinking deeper and deeper into heartbreak, until it felt like my breath might stop altogether.

The unit I ended up being placed in had been assigned to Dungeon-related support activities. Now that I looked back on it, it seemed likely that Yoohyunie had had a hand in how things had shaken out there, too. So as to procure protection for myself, who had been prowling outside of Dungeons in order to dissuade my dongsaeng, while simultaneously teaching me about the changes the world had undergone. 

Working a variety of menial tasks that posed little danger, I naturally grew to be more knowledgeable about Dungeons and Hunters. And how incredible S-rank Hunters were considered. 

Over the course of that year, the world adjusted to the existence of Dungeons, too. Industries that capitalized on their presence began to crop up; Hunters’ social standings increased; the amount of Dungeon Breaks decreased, and they became common fare. At the same time, high-rank Hunters came to be revered figures. After witnessing my dongsaeng establish his own guild and shoot up through the rankings, the people around me would express their envy. Sometimes, they would even speak in such a way that implied that they thought I’d won the lottery.

Fucking assholes.

“...no one’s here, huh.”

I mumbled to myself, gazing into the empty house I’d returned to, one year later. What was so ‘great’ and ‘to be congratulated’. When I didn’t have anything left. I didn’t know how they’d found out, but I’d been inundated with calls from all over. Saying that they had heard, about my dongsaeng.

I ran away, that day. Leaving behind not only the house, but all of my dongsaeng’s possessions as well. It was then, that I’d also told Yoohyunie to never contact me again. I didn’t want to have obtained anything from my dongsaeng. It felt as though if I accepted even a single thing, no matter how small, the tittering of the people around me would turn into ‘truth’. 

‘So it was worth raising him, after all’. ‘You should be able to coast by on your dongsaeng’s coattails, then.’ ‘You must be rolling in the dough now.’ ‘Not a worry in the world anymore, huh.’

I didn’t want any of it. It didn’t make me feel glad at all.

But despite having fled like that, I couldn’t completely abandon trying to get my dongsaeng back.

[ MKC Guild has just successfully concluded the nation’s third S-rank Dungeon raid. A number of casualties have been reported, with MKC’s guild leader Choi Seokwon having sustained a major injury as well……. ] 

[ There have been discussions about whether the acceptance of Haeyeon Guild’s bid for an S-rank Dungeon might not be too premature. ] 

[ Regarding Soodam Guild’s leader, Hunter Yoon Kyungsoo’s mysterious hospitalization……. ] 

It wasn’t as though S-rank Hunters never got injured. As the youngest S-rank Hunter–not only domestically, but internationally–there were many worrying gazes fixed on Yoohyunie. And if any of the Dungeon raids ever happened to go over the projected completion time, a slew of negative articles would come flooding out. 

Having been forced to stand witness to all of those things as though I were a complete outsider, it was no wonder that the following sequence of things saw me clinging onto any desperate hope at Awakening. Since it had felt like the only viable option I had, back then. 

If I could only Awaken. If I could perhaps become an S-rank Hunter, then everything would be able to go back to the way it had been before.

“It’s bearable, at any rate.”

My guts did feel like they were twisted into knots, but since things were alright now, at least, I would be okay.

- You can’t lower your guard.

The Changeling lifted a foreleg and pressed its paw against my cheek. The pad of its foot, with its tiny clawtips, felt faintly squishy.

“I haven’t relaxed.”

I knew very well that this was only the beginning. Since it was my own life. So long as it entailed only ‘spectating’ like this, though, it seemed doable after all. Since there were still those people waiting for me, outside. As long as I didn’t lose sight of that, then.

Unlike how things were right now, the Awakening Centers had only just opened. Unlike how things were right now, I’d gone to the Awakening Center and Awakened. Support class Hunter, F-rank. Would things have been easier, if I’d just given up then. But then the present that existed now, would have disappeared. Instead–together with Yoohyunie, who’d been unable to leave me, we would’ve been, till the very end of the world–. 

‘...don’t think about that.’

Don’t get caught up in it.

“Just asking nicely never goes over well, huh!”

퍽, with a dull sound, a foot slammed into my stomach. My body went airborne for a moment, before being sent tumbling across the ground. As a numbing pain spread across my body, I blinked my eyes. Eh, hold on a sec.

“When the only thing you have going for you is that label of ‘Han Yoohyun’s hyung’, you shouldn’t think you’re such hot shit.”

Clicking his tongue, the man who squatted down next to me shoved my head into the ground. 

I’d definitely been just a simple spectator a moment ago, but now I’d suddenly ended up inside of the illusion. Wow, what a perfectly immersive 4D experience.

‘How far does ‘quietly sit through all of it’ apply, anyway.’

Since ‘will not resist the effects of the currently activated Skill’ had been what was written on the contract, did that mean I had to keep on bearing with it. I could feel the pain, but it didn’t seem like there were any actual effects on my body. It was a kind of ‘phantom pain’. In the first place, it had been written in the contract that the Innocuous King’s Skill was incapable of inflicting physical harm. If it hadn’t been for that disclaimer, I wouldn’t have signed it to begin with.

It threw me off somewhat, but I was alright for the time being. Making it to this point had been too easy, in fact. Considering it had been something the jellyfish had felt confident enough to gamble stakes on, it seemed like there was a fat chance it would just end with a recap of my life events. 

“Even if you’ve been abandoned by that oh-so-illustrious dongsaeng of yours, if you throw yourself at his feet, then he should still throw a scrap or two your way, if only to keep up appearances. Hmm?”

“...sorry, but who’re you again.”

“What?”

“It’s not like there were only one or two of you pathetic assholes, so I can’t quite place all of you lot, see. I can hardly be expected to remember the name of every passing villain extra, after all.”

I gave the contents of my inventory a cursory skim. Seeing how it was completely cleared out, it seemed I only had access to my possessions from back then. And I would’ve still been an F-rank, with no outstanding Stats to speak of.

“The ‘resisting’ I’m doing now with this body isn’t a violation of the contract, alright. Since it’s not my current body or abilities, and it said that I’m capable of responding differently in the presented situation.”

“The hell kind of bullshit are you–kuh!”

As I just so happened to have a suitable dagger for the occasion in my inventory, I neatly slotted it into the neck of the bastard in front of me. With a flick of my wrist, I twisted the hand holding the dagger to confirm the kill, then glanced around at my surroundings. Of course, there wouldn’t have been only just the one.

“S-shit!”

“Get him!”

I shoved the corpse in the direction of the one who was at least the fastest to respond. As the still-cooling body flew in his direction, spraying blood in its wake, he scrambled to get out of the way, horrified. The way he was scrabbling about, he was completely defenseless. That kind of lapse was obviously the kind of golden opportunity which a kidnapping-slash-blackmail victim shouldn’t just pass up.

Dropping my body below his line of sight, I closed the gap between us in a blink and hooked my leg around his own. Having already been knocked off-balance, he went down without a fight; this time, too, I slit the neck with unerring precision.

“F-fuck! He’s murdered them!”

Proving exceptionally lively for an illusion, the straggler promptly made a break for it. I took aim at the back of his head, and let the blade fly. Yet with my insufficient strength, it only clattered to the ground without being able to close the distance. It probably would’ve landed artfully dead-center, if it’d been Yoohyunie.

“Hey, you might not be able to hear me, but my dongsaeng never threw me away, got it.”

Not once.

Just as I was reflecting on how, rather than being torturous, the experience was actually starting to feel cathartic.

“Ngh, ghk!”

A searing pain bore into my arm. I swallowed my scream out of reflex. Letting out any shrieks in a Dungeon because of a measly scrape was tantamount to suicide. You might as well be advertising here’s some vulnerable prey! to the monsters hanging around. 

Clenching my teeth, I blinked through my blurring sight. There was a knife embedded into my arm, which hung limp at my side. Even at a glance, it was obvious that it was a high-quality Item. It most certainly wasn’t low-level gear.

“Shit, huff, you’re, fucking–ugh–dead!”

The blade was savagely ripped out. When had this been. In any case–it seemed like they weren’t someone an F-rank Hunter should have gotten uppity with, even factoring in some additional experience. 

“Don’t feel too resentful about this. Even if that Haeyeon guild leader bastard might not give a shit about his hyung, you’ve still reaped some perks thanks to him, hmm. There must be several things you’ve benefited from by selling out his name, right? So just think of this as karmic retribution.”

The sound of laughter fell over my body. I could hear them cursing Haeyeon, too. They were a rabble that had suffered the consequences of crossing Yoohyunie, it seemed.

After it was revealed that Yoohyunie and I had fallen out with each other, unsavory characters looking to vent their grievances on me after a dispute with Haeyeon had begun to appear. Only, it hadn’t lasted for very long. Haeyeon had stepped in, framing it as ‘a matter of inconvenience’ that I would be used as a punching bag because of an ostensible connection drawn between Han Yoohyun and myself, and rounded all of them up.

That I was a burden on my dongsaeng for going around and letting myself get beat up and used like that, too; I’d heard that in public as well.

“...all of you are dea–ack!”

“Why, did Han Yoohyun tell you he’d come along to rescue you, huh.”

“That bastard’s a piece of work, too. Cutting off the hyung who raised him in the place of his parents, without sparing a glance back. Is that even human.”

My temper skyrocketed. Hearing that nonsense, a belated memory of the incident rose clear in my head. At that time, I had.

“Fuck, it’s because I’m lacking, alright!”

Because I’d only been an F-rank, went around causing problems, then got caught up in unnecessary conflicts. Like this, right now.

“So you’ll still stick up for that fucker ‘cause he’s your dongsaeng, is that it?”

“It’s, ngh, the truth, so what! As if it’d be a burden for the Haeyeon Guild Leader, to have to put up with a mooch. I was abandoned because I deserved it!”

That’s what I’d said. And continued to say, thereafter. Yeah, because that, at least, was more comforting.

Because it felt like I really would die, if there hadn’t been a reason. Since as long as it was because of something I’d done wrong, it was understandable. The more blame everyone threw on me, the more blameless Yoohyunie became; becoming too greedy with my desire had caused things to go awry; it was me who’d ruined things.

As long as I did well, as long as I succeeded, it seemed like things would be able to go back to the way they’d been before.

I might have been a little bit out of my mind. Staying sane under those circumstances would’ve been difficult, in any case.

“...it’s not Yoohyunie’s fault.”

It turned into my fault, then. Just like the people around me claimed. That I was someone who’d recklessly boasted about becoming a Hunter because I suffered from an inferiority complex in regards to my dongsaeng, and only went on to go around stirring up more trouble after presenting as an F-rank. Since Han Yoohyun had merely discarded that kind of trash, as long as I became redeemed again, then he’d return to being the dongsaeng I’d known.

That was, probably my last hope… And at the same time, was something I was petrified of working towards. Because if I became ‘acceptable’ again, but Yoohyunie still remained icy and distant–then.

“It does sting some.”

The longer it was placed under review, the more it became apparent exactly how futile a life I’d been leading. 

Brief recollections of past violence flashed by. Even then, it only amounted to a registration of how I’d really been through all sorts of things, huh. When it came to pure brutality, that bastard Diarma definitely took the cake. And since I couldn’t die, he’d been able to get fairly creative with it, too, with no holds barred.

And then, blood spewed out once more.

“R, un away……!” 

A familiar face toppled over. A man, in his mid-thirties.

- 캬르륵!

As I stood there in a daze, a monster lunged towards me. The monster, which resembled a giant bipedal canid, swung its claws, and I reflexively dodged. My body felt light. My opponent was an E-rank monster, and I–I had been granted an E-rank Hunter’s Stats, severalfold.

I spun the lance gripped in my hand. Smashing the body of the lance into the dripping maw of the monster to force it aside, I buried the blade into the column of its neck as it became exposed. Heaving the corpse aloft while still pierced on the blade, I used it to block the others that had begun to fall upon me.

퍽, 콰득, the moment claws and teeth sunk into the body of their packmate, I tightened my grip on the body of the lance before launching my body upwards. As though I were pole vaulting, I soared over the backs of the monster to land on the other side, and drew out a knife. Abruptly, enlightenment of the abilities the deceased man’s Skill held came over me.

Taking out the spare jungle machete too, I began wielding both knives in tandem, with the finesse of an ambidextrous user. As acumen fortified the blade’s edge, two caenid heads were decapitated with ease. Immediately after, I hurled the knife held in my right hand with the brunt of my strength. 콱! The blade embedded itself in the skull of a monster that had been about to gore a Hunter.

“Y-Yoojin-ssi!”

The Hunter who had been saved through my intervention looked at me with astonished eyes. Originally, I wouldn’t have been capable of saving anyone. Even if I’d been given the strength, I’d lacked the experience to move impassively, nor had I held the resolve to do as much. All I’d been able to do was wildly swing my blade as I sobbed. 

And the person I so desperately wanted to save still, he was.

“...alive.”

Though the revival process through regression might’ve been imperfect. He lived. So even this, now, too, was all right. 

“No matter how many of these you show me, the end result will be the same, so you might as well give up.”

Whether she agreed with my words, this time, it ended at just the once. Then instead, something that wasn’t from my memories.

“Hyung.”

Appeared before my eyes. It was Yoohyunie, at twenty-five. In the old house, in the house we’d lived in together, Yoohyunie was standing there. He was wearing a faint smile. This sort of thing, definitely hadn’t existed in my memories. 

“I’m sorry.”

Eyes of the deepest black seemed to hold an immense grief.

- - - -

time for yj's parallel arc to yh's han yoohyun's world...

someone who’s a 제작진 would be like, a part of the production crew for a broadcasting station… so maybe some foreshadowing for the (world-stakes) livestreaming arc that happens in late game-ish territory. colloquial 제작자 = producer, like in the entertainment industry sense. but would also apply for architects/inventors, for example, because they 'build(make/create/produce)'

+ the particular significance swiss watches hold

“Such a fuss, over a measly watch.” “So you do have it, after all.”

“What’s to come is more important. Since, if the world stays safe, then I can offer even more, even better, happier memories to my dongsaeng.” I didn’t want to lose Yoohyunie’s memory. But I couldn’t exchange the present–the future– just for that. I’d be the one to gift him a watch. Even if I couldn’t have the watch from him, we would continue to give and receive other things from each other.

-ch190

+ Is the korean word for orphan ��아 an insult?

'This hasn’t ever happened before,' and 'he's never been gone this late without saying anything'; when I said as much, the police officer asked for details. but his expression turned abruptly disinterested when he heard that it was a highschool-aged boy. He only became more apathetic when he heard that the parents were out of the picture.

+ some questions that came in..✧*。

re: the one asking abt 25yh– i haven’t come across that particular scene in the handful of times i’ve skipped ahead a bit yet, but i can leave a mention of it in end of ch notes if i come across it somewhere ^^

re: 615– i ended up doing 614 as an off-schedule ch bc of yoohyunie’s bday, since i wanted to leave the christmas footnote somewhere; so that’s why it was done as a standalone then~^^ 615 is in the list of chs i’d planned to do eventually (there’s a method to my madness, it's just probably impossible to find the tweet w the list), and i do entertain requests if the ch appeals to me personally, so maybe it’ll go up as the christmas ch for this yr if i’m still around by then? kinda got depressed w talking into a void, then the dept i oversee had its workload doubled recently, so i don’t rly have much resources to put towards tling of late.. came back for a bit bc the friend i’d originally started doing the tls for is looking into the series again ;v;)b

+(Q&A)

Q) i’m curious about yoojinie’s family, from before yoohyunie was born!! additionally, if the brothers’ parents were able to provide steady financial support to the brothers while also traveling abroad, it seems that their pocketbook(?) status was quite well off; did the brothers not get to inherit anything?? A) because both worked jobs and even proactively worked overtime in order to avoid being at home, they were able to live quite comfortably. because there were a lot of corresponding expenses, they weren’t able to put away very much, but they owned the house, and had insurance besides. however, even if they were able to retain the house despite having the inheritance ripped away piece by piece, because of some remaining loans, han yoojin decided to work^^ han yoojin’s homeroom teacher petitioned that he at least finish high school, as his status as a minor would afford him assistance; but han yoojin turned them down, on the grounds that the house being held as collateral would mean that their living situation would become precarious as soon as he became a legal adult. since he would be considered an adult very soon, he aimed to amass work experience and build up savings in preparation for when the time would pass where he would be forced to stand on his own two feet.

+(Q&A)

Q) also, in chapter 20, it’s mentioned that yoojinie had lived in a two-person one-room residence in the past; was this before the Dungeons had appeared, or pre-Regression–or, was it a dormitory for haeyeon's ordinary employees / A-rank and under Hunter-use dorm? A) it was a residence that belonged to a mid-rank guild, that he stayed at after Awakening pre-Regression. as this was while he was in a region outside of seoul in accordance with the dungeon raid schedule at the time, because he wasn’t an official guild member, han yoojin resided in there for a brief amount of time. han yoojin was essentially there as a pack mule, but as he moved deftly due to his considerable experience, the guild members held him in positive regard. saying that the seoul guilds wouldn’t bother to give him the time of day, they urged him to consider joining their guild instead, as the countryside had few Hunters to begin with; however, as han yoojin refused to leave seoul, where his dongsaeng was—and after learning about what had transpired, han yoohyun threatened them in secret—it end up falling through^^ even haeyeon's private residences for its ordinary employees, too, are fairly high quality.

*

Now that I looked back on it, it seemed likely that Yoohyunie had had a hand in how things had shaken out there, too. So as to procure protection for myself, who had been prowling outside of Dungeons in order to dissuade my dongsaeng, while simultaneously teaching me about the changes the world had undergone. [...] After it was revealed that Yoohyunie and I had fallen out with each other, unsavory characters looking to vent their grievances on me after a dispute with Haeyeon had begun to appear. Only, it hadn’t lasted for very long. Haeyeon had stepped in, framing it as ‘a matter of inconvenience’ that I would be used as a punching bag because of an ostensible connection drawn between Han Yoohyun and myself, and rounded all of them up. That I was a burden on my dongsaeng for going around and letting myself get beat up and used like that, too; I’d heard that in public as well.

-ch388

“…all of you are dea–ack!” “Why, did Han Yoohyun tell you he’d come along to rescue you.” [...]

-ch183

“Listen, you might not be able to hear me, but my dongsaeng never threw me away, got it.” Not once.

-ch387

I hadn’t been able to understand, and my dongsaeng hadn’t been able to back down.

-ch239

-ch246

#273화 #274화 #the s classes that i raised #tsctir #sctir

[triflingshadows]

Self-Rec tag game

Tagged by @dungeons-and-dragon-age and @oopsallmabari !

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they’ve made.

-

1- Something you absolutely adore:

The wayfarer mass attack from last year’s artfight is still one of my favorite pieces I’ve done overall. I don’t think I’d have been able to do it for another fandom just because of how involved I was in the wayfarer discord+artist circles back then, and how small the fandom is compared to, say, dragon age. This one^ was literally all the wayfarer characters *on* artfight, including mine (5th from the right) and one who hadn’t been uploaded to artfight just yet!

2- Something that was challenging to create:

My piece for a gift exchange a while ago, the pose and the bg were hard as was figuring out the composition in the first place…this one went through so many iterations. Shocked I drew the bottoms of the feet so well first try. Also thank you again to I believe rowen for lending me your hand as a ref

3- Something that makes you laugh/smile:

One of many stupid ideas I have which either get drawn or languish in my big drawing ideas note forever

4- Something that surprised you:

The pixel wrath characters! Didn’t expect to finish the set or for them to turn out so well. Honestly very similar to the pieces I’ve been doing recently as commissions in terms of bright colors and the poses…hmm

5- Something you want other people to see:

Azata yuri!!! Arueshalae’s armor is so hard to draw, also I still really like the faces+lighting effects…butterflies are also hard to draw…link here

Taggingggg…. @ahvene @arcturite @brother-genitivi @brainwormterrarium @brainrotdotorg and anyone else who wants to!!

#misc #tag game

[levmada]

my favorite responses from an interview Isayama did in 2010 :3

(just scroll to the end of the chapter okay...)

Why did you decide on giants as the theme of this work?

Isayama: Well, giants are kind of gross, aren't they? That's why.

How do you get over those times when making manga gets tough?

Isayama: I don't. *Laughs* I think it's always equal parts tough and fun.

Where do you get your ideas for stories?

Isayama: This doesn’t have to do with creating stories, but when I’m half-awake, just before I drift off to sleep, my mind gets flooded with information I’ve seen or heard subconciously. I call it “Super Enlightenment Time.” And this is true, I’m not kidding.

Isayama, I want to see where you work!

Isayama: That's one thing I hope you'll cut me some slack on! I really don't want to show you, since it's a mess...

I'm guessing that drawing Titans after a long time would do things to your mind. Do you have nightmares about them?

Isayama: I don't think giants are really scary in the first place, so no, never.

What's the scariest thing in the world?

Isayama: A bunch of middle school girls looking at me and going, "Ewwww" while laughing.

Mr. Isayama, at what age did you start drawing?

Isayama: I have a memory of being praised for a drawing I did of a dragon in Kindergarten.

Which character in Attack on Titan most resembles you?

Isayama: Hmm... Mr. Hannes and the Garrison soldiers in volume 1 who sit around drinking booze.

What's your favorite food?

Isayama: I'm not really into food. [Apparently, if he's not careful, he'll drop to 40 kilos (88lbs) without realizing it...]

How do you spend your free time?

Isayama: Drooling as I surf the net.

#hajime isayama #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin

[dovelydraws]

If you don't mind me asking,

What's art styles ended up influencing .. Well your art style?

Oh, this is a fun question, thank you for asking!

Hmm, I think it's a little hard to say since I've been drawing since I was basically a toddler, lol. Every little thing I've ever enjoyed has had some sort of influence. I'll try to go through the timeline though.

When I was a little kid, I had a special interest in zoology (still do! but it's not as obvious as it was back then.) I used to wake up first in the house specifically so I could turn on the tv to the animal planet channel and just watch documentaries all morning, and I carried a giant animal kingdom encyclopedia with me to school every day to just flip to random pages and read whatever popped up. During this time of my life, I pretty much exclusively drew animals- particularly elephants, canines, and horses. I had no interest in people.

I had no real interest in stylization at this point- obviously as a little kid I was never able to achieve perfect anatomy or anything like that, but I was more interested in making my animals look real than cartoonish- which meant I was never really influenced by the disney movies I was watching, since they stylized their animals so heavily.

I remember the dreamworks movie Spirit held my attention for a very long time, and I think it may particularly have been that way because the horses looked and acted more real than they did in disney movies. They were still stylized of course, it was a cartoon after all, but it wasn't to any extremes. I still find myself wanting to mimic that in my animals now; cartoon, but not cartoon-y.

I think these two gifs help illustrate my point lol.

After this exclusive animal obsession (followed by dinosaurs, and then dragons) I got really into Sonic the Hedgehog around age 11. Drew sonic characters, and made my own OCs for it, for basically the entirety of middle school. I've pointed out in the past that it seems the way I draw hands was heavily influenced by this phase

Very round, almost rubbery, where the ends of the fingers tend to flare out a little bigger than they are at the knuckles.

Then after sonic, I got into my first anime, Soul Eater, and this is really where I first started venturing into drawing people and more realistic human anatomy.

Interestingly, this artstyle seemed to also do the Sonic Hands thing, lol

After this I had a big anime phase, as well as just a general "I want to study actual human anatomy" phase during early high school. I was following a lot of skeletal/muscular system tutorials during this time.

Following that I started getting back into american media, in particular I remember invader zim, steven universe, and tmnt 2k12. I'm not sure I can really tell myself where the steven u artstyle is present in my own, but I've had people tell me they can tell I was into it at some point after saying so.

Then there was the Rubberhose Boom of 2017, with the release of Cuphead and BATIM very close together; I had a big hyperfixation on that artstyle specifically at that time, and I feel like I may owe some of the loose-ness in my artstyle to that.

Then, I suppose, we come to Rise of the TMNT. That show ended up being a major inspiration to me, and I think I owe a LOT of recent artistic growth to it. Rise pushed me out of my comfort zone big time. I always liked doing dynamic poses, but rise encouraged me to push things further, and I started drawing more backgrounds and making bolder color choices because of it as well.

I think my artstyle became just a bit more angular after drawing so much fanart as well.

And I suppose that's where I'm now at presently! Aside from media, I also can't say I'd be where I am artistically today without the influence and support of my many friends. :) I owe a lot of things about my artstyle, particularly specific things like my lineart, to compliments my friends paid me which made me pay more attention to the things I was doing accidentally that they happened to like, then making it purposeful and more refined as a result.

#asks #long post #this was really fun to think about :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Ahoy Steph 🙌, I was wondering if you could tell us a little bit about yourself and what kind of tropes and stories you enjoy? Wanna get to know a little more about who is behind the blog if you don't mind🤸

Hey Nonny!

Sorry for the delay in a reply... just haven't "felt it" the past couple months, and after a nice 2 week break (and now a slow day at work), I feel more up to answering a long-form ask today, LOL.

So, I won't reveal too much about myself that isn't already public, since I try to keep my online and personal lives separate (and I come from an age where people usually DID do this because no one needs to know every little bit about you). The basics are that I'm a 41-year-old Canadian dork who loves video games, animation, movies, drawing, writing, and making music. I'm a graphic designer by trade, and have been for nearly 20 years, and I love it (if you need something designed or laid out, hit me up, I freelance on the side for extra spending money). I love dragons and puppies and kitties. I've been in fandom spaces for as long as I can remember, even before the internet. First major fandom I was a part of was Sonic the Hedgehog in my teen years, used to be a pretty popular writer back then. I moved on to Darkwing Duck in my 20s, then TMNT and then Sherlock (I'm a fan of a TONNE more things, but these were the active fanbases I had a presence in). These days I'm more of a lurker than actively participating, though Sherlock has been the longest one I haven't really moved on from. I like the casualness of what I've built here, and I think that's been a huge benefit for my mental health.

Hmm... my fave food is mac and cheese, but had to cut back on it a lot, so these days it's mostly chicken, lol. Fave dessert is cheesecake. Again, not supposed to eat it because of the dairy and sugar, so if I make it, I use lactose-free cheese. I treat myself once-a-year on my birthday, usually.

My current dream is to own a home. I've been trying to make it happen for almost 10 years now, and every time I get close, the goal-post gets shifted as housing prices skyrocket. It makes me very sad.

My dream holiday is a Disney cruise OR somewhere tropical; wanted to do these since I was 20. Secondary dream WAS going back to Disney World for my 40th, but now it's for my 45th or 50th, hopefully with SOMEONE (no one wants to go with me, hence the back-burner on this one). Listen, I know how awful Disney is. I just... really loved being there. It's easy to forget a lot of things when you're there. Third dream is a cross-country LITERAL nostalgia road trip with my sister. We used to go on 2-week-long, cross-Canada road trips when we were kids, and I just... want to kind of relive those, y'know? Lots of fond memories. Again, something that's just a dream because while my sister wants to do it, she doesn't want to be an alternate driver, so. Yeah, I can't do the driving alone.

Uh... Hmm. Not sure what else I should talk about here, if there's something specific y'all want to know, just ask :)

As for fave tropes, I love fake relationship fics the most, I think, followed by pining and movie rewrites with characters... I'm actually pretty easy-going when it comes to tropes, really. Willing to read any trope at least once to see if I like it.

Oddly, though, I prefer stories that are SUPER in-character (to how I read them, anyway) AND focus a lot on character studies and relationships with other characters. Novel-length stories are usually the best for it, but shorter ones can be too. I prefer fanfics more these days because I don't have to think about how these characters SHOULD be and focus more on the world that the author created. When I do read published novels, though, they're usually fantasy books. One of my fave series ever is the Inkheart Trilogy. Just an easy read from book one.

Yeah, so that's a little bit about me, to start off 2023 AND for any newbies that have just recently found me.

Thanks again for your curiosity :) Again, if you have anything you want more elaboration on, I can at my discretion.

#steph replies #about me #chatting with nonnies #ask me anything

[princessmacedon]

{ OOC: TOA Anniversary Munday

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

tagging: anyone who needs a nudge ~

---

Name: Red or Reddo

Pronouns: they/she/he, with a preference toward they/them

Birthday (no year): December 28

Where are you from? What is your time zone? Kentucky; EST (toa o'clock)

Roleplay experience: mmm, tumblr wise, about 11 years? i think?

Got any pets? a very smiley dog named Tobin (named after he of Valentia fame) who hasn't got a thought in his head

Favorite time of year: whatever time of year it isn't right now (no strong feelings, but i miss the heat when it's winter and the cold when it's summer, and the lack of storms when it's tornado season DSHFHSDFHS)

Some interests and things you like: drawing, music................. uh.. g..gaming?? hum.. i really enjoy reading people's thoughts on characterization both in terms of (the muse's) self and relationship with others, though i tend to just read and enjoy unless i feel like. qualified to talk about the character hahaha

Some fun facts & trivia about you: uhh... hrmm... ?? i'm a chronic level grinder in fire emblem, usually to my own detriment, and i lurk in the server far more than i speak in it ^^;; i have way too many stuffed animals on my bed (including a minccino as tall as i am who cannot fits and so must sits on the floor)

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? FFXIV, Honkai: Star Rail, Pokemon, Genshin Impact, Dragon Age, Story of Seasons.. the more games release though the less i keep up with them HAHA

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: dark & dragon; lucario, appletun, zorua/zoroark, yamper, eevee+ (fun and incredibly unforeseen fact: i struggle with decisions)

How did you get into Fire Emblem? when i was still in high school some friends of mine kept gushing about some weird guy who had gloves, puffy pants, a singular full length sleeve, and his shoulder out. i didn't get the hype about him at all SDFHDSFHSDF but i liked the art and they liked the game, so i bought it to try it out

What Fire Emblem games have you played? awakening, fe7, fe11/12, fe4, fates (birthright & conquest), engage; i've started and need to restart shadows of valentia, fe6, fe8, and fe9, but i aim to play all of them one day!

First Fire Emblem game: Awakening

Favorite Fire Emblem game: in the end it's probably still Awakening! i have over a thousand hours in that game :softsmile:

Any Fire Emblem crushes? ough,, cordelia, chrom, lady rhea, uhhh. surely there's more but i've blanked HAHA

If you’ve played the following games, who was your first S support? - Awakening: Chrom (on purpose because he got my ass with the ground cutscene immediately, fool that i am) - Fates: Takumi - Three Houses: Dimitri - Engage: haven't finished yet but it's probably going to be Diamant

Favorite Fire Emblem class: mages, dark fliers, horsemen.. i enjoy a good hero as well :]

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class? i would be the merlinus of my class probably SDFSDSDGSDG definitely a magic user, probably a dark flier or maligknight, maybe a valkyrie? magic and staves, lower end of attack but higher speed + skill, glass bones and paper skin

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? Blue Lions, i think!

If you were an Engage character, which Emblem would you Engage with? hmm... i don't know anything about the dlc emblems, so i'd probably pick byleth for the dance/support, or maybe leif or lyn :thinking:

How did you find TOA? i heard about it from key for a good while, but i avoided joining at first since i was pretty burnt out in general. eventually zyra brought up the two of us writing macedonks again (we wrote together in an old group!) and i succumbed, hahaha. i was so terrified to join the server back then and she kept sending me screenshots trying to lure me in SDFFFSD

Current TOA muses: Maria & Katarina

Who was your first TOA muse? If you don’t have them anymore, could you see yourself picking them up again? Maria! she's the mainstay muse for me, even if she isn't so deeply thrilling hahaha

Have you had any other TOA muses? Cordelia! I still love her greatly ^^

Do you think you have a type of character you gravitate towards? for muses, i tend to gravitate towards the soft-hearted type and the generally good-aligned, but i've been thinking about branching out more/again sometimes

What do you believe you enjoy writing the most? in terms of tenses, i used to favor past tense but i usually flip-flop now depending on what makes my starter post sound nicest HAHA i tend to write event posts in present tense however, and sometimes change to match my partner. for threads in general, i'm drawn to emotional scenes and discussions and character bonding, though in general i like all kinds of threads ^^ and just as a general extra, i really love writing maria specifically. the way she puts in her full effort to love other people and the world itself is honestly really soothing to write sometimes!

Favorite TOA-related memory: i love watching everyone lose their minds when something Wild and Zany happens in an event, to be honest DSFDSFSD i haven't got a great memory myself, so nothing specific from me, but it's lots of fun to see :]

How do you pronounce TOA?: noah with a t (toah)

Got any delusions that didn’t see the light of day in TOA that you’d like to share? 😉 i am genuinely so close at all times to picking up wolf, though a preference for capping at 2 muses and general nervousness keep me from it :pensive: other than that, i've come really close to apping sothis before, and i have partially formed blogs for ced, citrinne, boucheron, among others

#out of siblings #meme tag #really cute meme <3 i've been browsing everyone else's responses with great interest huhu

[nightflower-stuff]

I'll draw my OCs on doodles arts of my new art when I adjust the shades. You can draw any of My OCs if you wanted or you have free time. 😁💗

I hope you guys like them 💕

• Multifandom Artist:🎨🖌️

• IRL name: Raphaella Dana R. Campo 👩‍🎨 (Persona/Sona Me)

• OC name:

- Nightflower (Original AU)

- Nayoko (Opposite AU)

• Pronouns: She/Her/They

• Sexuality:

- Straight (Before/Then + Past)

- Bisexual (After/Now + Present & Future💗💜💙)

• Age: 17 (2024, I have a reveal)

• Birthday: February 22 (My real BDAY 🎂)

• Zodiac sign: Pisces ♓

• Nationality: Philippines 🇵🇭

• MBTI: INFP

- Autism 🏳️‍🌈

My Introduction must be on Wattpad account 😁💗

Other Stuffs:

• OCs (Many):

• Shigeko 🖤 (My 1st OC, Nakama FC, GF of Carolina, SS/BNHA Fandom)

• Carolina 💜 (My 2nd OC, Barka FC, GF of Shigeko, SS Fandom)

• Steve ❣️ (My 3rd OC, Supa Strikas, GF of Miko Chen, SS Fandom)

• Pearl 🦪 (My 4th OC, Invincible United, BF of Dingaan, SS Fandom)

• Yua 🌸 (My 5th OC, Member of Hyuga Clan, GF of Sumira, Naruto/LMK Fandom)

• Zoe/Zuo Yī ☯️ (My 6th OC, Cousin of Six eared Macaque, LMK Fandom)

• Méiguī/Rose 🌹 (My 7th OC, Sa Ming United FC, Secret sister of Sa Ma Wee, GF of Oscar, SS Fandom)

• Other OCs 🏳️‍🌈 [Next Generations, Families, friends, rivals, etc...) (Different Fandoms in Social Medias/Apps + Link in Bio description at my post 🖇️)

• Fandoms:

- Supa Strikas

- Lego Monkie Kid

- Disney Tarzan

-The Dragon Prince

- Transformers (Prime, Cyberverse, RID, Etc)

- Scooby Doo

- Drawn Together

- Video Games

- Etc.... Any movies/series that I want or not 👀✌️💖💕. I'm the Multifandom Artist.

• Rules: (What if I'll make more OCs of mine):

• You choose any of My OCs rather 1, 2 or more for you will draw/make him/her/them in your art style with any apps or you can draw/make yourself/your OC/s/any fandom characters for meeting my OCs as rivals, collaboration etc... with any social medias. Don't forget to tagged me your posts with/out hashtags so that I can see them. It's up to you in your art styles or Gacha Styles ^w^💖

• Also, The ships are LGBTQ & Straight (OC X OC, OC X Canon, Canon X OC, Crossover couples). It's on all social medias. If you like them anything 😇💕💗

• If I'll make OCs but they are too many who are supporting or main. You don't see OCs of mine, you can go on Instagram 😊. Also crossover & introduction. You can draw any of them if you want ☺️💕

•Like: (For Followers & Supporters only)💖

- As for you guys. I'm telling the truth about haters about they're disgusting to you. Do not near them, ignore them + Unfollowed, Report & Blocked if they lied to me & you in the DNI rules on their words. Don't get blind & I'm explaination my truth 🙏. As for me, I ship other characters, except the toxic ships (Proshippers & pedo), the haters forced & sexualize other characters for no good 🙏. You're the best artists as supportive & I'm here for you, Stay safe & protect yourself from your enemies 🙏❤️

• Shador (I love them & El_Matagirl's arts are beautiful! Plus I support her for her followers 🥹💗) Be respect & Support her 🙏♥️

• Sharra (Hmm... I kinda like them 😉🤗)

• Supa Strikas ships & Fandom ships, Especially Crossover ships (Yes! 👀✨)

• LGBTQ, Black live matters & nationalities (Making friends, family, rivals, etc...)👋💕

• OCs & Canons + Headcanons (Heterosexual👩‍❤️‍👨 & LGBTQ🌈, It's up to them)

• AUs & Crossover (Anything for rivals) 🥹❤️🌈

• Art Trades, DTIYS, Art Requests/Suggestions, Fanart Gifts (It seems I'm tired & I'll able to continue them) 😭💕

• Art commission (Nope, It's not start open yet. Sincerely I have to concentrate until my job has to start T-T)

•DNI/Dislike: (For Haters only)🚫

- These are the names who are hates the OC X Canon ship/Crossover ships & OCs arts, They are victim me & my followers. They're the cringy, childish, liar & hypocrite to you for what they have done to you.

Don't like me, don't follow me, don't near anybody because you don't like kinda good ships when your near first & keeping spying then don't report, just blocked me while hanging out with alone or my people. ❤️

• Haters 😠 (Do not harmed people in every ages, they're great artists!)

• No steal arts, trace them, copy my OCs without my permission (I'll trace yours or I'll immediately report & blocked if you doing that) ❌

• Toxic Ships & Proshippers/Pedophile (Your age must be reveal if you're a minor & adult)😑

• Spying on Instagram, take a screenshot on the posts & while they are posted on Tumblr to be announcing hated, they are both same/different username accounts in another social medias being manipulated (Must be negatively report, blocked & unfollowed) ❌

•Don't understand any languages who are mistakes, you'll also speak the mistake languages, if this okay or not, it's just a Grammer (For making karma)❌

• No hate, harassment, racist, keeping themselves as social bullying + cyberbullying & betrayed, manipulation (I don't like their behaviours betrayed everyone for leaving as Supa BRL on Tumblr, those characters can leave them for this ❌. They're becoming cyberbullying & social bullying ❌)

• No more Homophobics & transphobic (Pretending as good LGBTQ, will report & blocked with the account banned) ❌

• Apps Used:

YouTube, Capcut, Tumblr, Instagram, Wattpad, Ibispaint, Gacha app, etc..

Here are my Social Medias/Apps that I used with the links: 💕♥️

Social Medias/Apps:

Full introduction on Wattpad 🙈💕. I'll make more books as fanfics

#supa strikas #art #my artwork #artist on instagram #my ocs #original character #monkie kid #lego monkie kid #naruto #supa strikas ocs #supa strikas oc character #supa strikas oc #my fanart #my oc #ocs #original characters #Instagram #ibispaintx #supa strikas fanart #fandoms #multifandom crossover #cartoon #multifandom #oc #lgbt #artists on tumblr #instagram #wattpad #supa drawn cartoon #supablr

[jicklet]

Morrigan Dragon Age, Joker Persona, Shepard Mass Effect

(Send me a character and i’ll tell you at least two characters I ship them with)

Morrigan: Hmm, only different Wardens is probably cheating huh. Still, my faves are female Amell (with the Warden starting off in starry eyed admiration and it developing beyond that), and male Cousland (because the idea that you could become prince consort or any of these other things but instead nah, fuck all your responsibilities you're gonna follow after your hot Shrek girlfriend, that's just fantastic). Non-warden, Leliana, in this sort of way.

Joker Persona: Who DON'T I ship him with (the adults). Him and Akechi are just so impressively fucked up it goes all the way around to funny, especially with like *waves hand at all the other possible options that could actually be healthy.* With Ryuji, because he's just so goddamn dedicated and maybe they should smooch about it. Makoto for total power couple. Although, shockingly, she may have been surpassed as my favorite for in-game romance by Haru, I have a real soft spot for the relationship they build. Emphasis on soft, especially with the time of year you actually start her confidant, just getting to spend time with her in these quiet gentle moments on the roof is just so sweet, and the idea of going on supporting her as she goes on to build her cafes, with everything Joker's learned about coffee too, its just, aww.

Shepard: For non-romanceables, Gianna Parasini is delightful, and I have a soft spot for Shiala.

For the romances, Kaidan melts me. He'll be the support they need, but he's still got that core of integrity that draws a line he won't cross, even for them, and I like that no matter how in love he is, he keeps that part of himself. And they both get the other to loosen up a little, there's an aspect of them both humanizing each other.

With Miranda is fascinating because she's such a mirror to Shepard, they clash and push and make each other better. And with everyone else, there's an aspect of Shepard carrying the weight of things while they're supporting them at it, but Miranda doesn't let them do that for her.

I also have a soft spot for Steve, by the time they meet Shepard is so tired and giving so much of himself away, him and Steve kinda get the other to slow down and take care of themselves and it's sweet.

#V plays mass effect #Meme me #Vee replies #Zenjestrr #*waves* hey man!

[vigilskeep]

so a bunch of your posts made it onto my dash and i got really curious and ended up playing dragon age for the first time ever, and i wanted to say thank you cuz i love this game and now that i (mostly) know what you're talking about, i love seeing your posts! i played as mahariel, romanced alistair, spared loghain, didn't do the ritual, and left alistair to marry anora while my warden made the ultimate sacrifice and now everything hurts real bad :c

i'm going to play again and shoot for a happier outcome, but now that i've finished my first run i wanted to ask, if you could add any different origins to da:o what would you pick? i don't know a whole lot about the lore but reading the codex entries it seems like there's a lot of interesting groups! and i didn't think there were mages in the dalish at first because it wouldn't let me play as one, but i think i would have liked that a lot.

omg!!! excited that u ended up playing dragon age and apologies for the way i may have influenced it towards turning out JGSHSJSJK but the drama is so good

hmm any different origins... any kind of apostate mage origin would be really good but that’s more towards taking the existing origins and spicing them up e.g. apostate human noble, apostate dalish elf, apostate city elf. the most important thing abt the origins to me is the insight they give you into different parts of the world and the unique perspective you can have on events, and i’m trying to think of a group—within ferelden—where i feel like there’s missed potential. some kind of human commoner would be good just bc humans always have to be nobles which is lame. maybe like a bandit origin or idk redcliffe castle servant origin so people can have a connection to that quest or ummm oh a soldier origin maybe where you’re one of loghain’s or howe’s? an orlesian origin would be incredibly spicy. every persuasion check with a fereldan should get doubled in difficulty for that. i know they scrapped plans for an avvar origin and people have come up with the idea of having a chasind origin before... oooooo for a connection to haven there could be some kind of. i don't know. secluded andrastian sect origin. you could also have like a templar origin that would be crazy. tevinter origin is a push but it could happen...? idk

i’m just throwing ideas onto the drawing board here and i don’t think any of them are super compelling, i haven’t thought a lot abt it. the origins really are very good as introductions to ferelden and orzammar and i don’t feel like there’s really majorly significant groups they missed

#btw there are totally mods to play dalish mage! i know it’s a popular one #if you ever want to try it

[leggywillow]

for the meme: bethany and carver hawke! :D

MY SPECIAL ANGELS <3 <3

Carver:

First impression: Okay, so I was active on the Bioware forums well before DA2's release and this actually inspired me to see what old posts I could dig up (do not recommend btw). I can officially find documentation of me being EMBARRASSINGLY thirsty as far back as November 2010. I wrote a drabble on the forum shipping him with my Tabris before the game released, lol, so ultimately my first impression (i.e, gonna latch on immediately) stuck. I did assume he was going to be a lot sweeter/less prickly/honestly blander than he turned out to be. I was expecting more of a himbo.

Impression now: He's my most special boy. Better than what I'd expected, which was a pleasant surprise. He is so full of conflict all the time, and I love it. He is delightfully prickly and also a big dumb jock and it’s the best.

Favorite moment: The scene where Carver and Hawke argue about Bethany stands out as one of my favorite video game moments, period. It was a moment that just reflected Carver's character so well: he's rash and temperamental, and he's hurting so badly as he struggles to find a new path for himself and cope with Bethany's death, he feels trapped and is stifling, he still loves his family fiercely, etc.

Idea for a story: I am actually getting around to writing all of my ideas! I finished my first Warden Carver/Warden Surana fanfic (shameless plug Never Free) which is mostly about an assassination plot against my Surana but also fills in the gaps of what Carver was up to during Act 2 of DA2, which I always love to think about. I've also always wanted to expand upon the Legacy DLC and give Hawke and Carver more chances to talk about their parents and Bethany (which I am also finishing up now: Failed Attempts at Simpler Lives shameless plug #2). I've ALSO always wanted to write about what happens to him in the immediate aftermath of Dragon Age 2, and how he reacts to finding out that Hawke was left in the Fade in Inquisition. I WILL GET THERE.

Unpopular opinion: Hmm, well, I hate the templar path for him? I've come up with better reasons to justify my dislike, but the real reason is that my taste for tragedy has weird limits and it makes me too sad to think that he gets addicted to lyrium. I don't really know how unpopular that is, though. Maybe a better answer is that my boy is BEEFY. He is built like a brick shithouse, and I hate when people draw him too lean.

Favorite relationship: His relationship to Hawke is the easy canon answer. She drives him crazy, she's irritating as hell, she's his best friend, he looks to her for leadership, he wants to shove her into a mud puddle, he would tear apart a burning city to make sure she's safe. Shipwise, obviously, it's my personal pet ship which is Carver hooking up with the Hero of Ferelden and Surana specifically. He HAS to get with a mage, he just HAS to, it's too delicious.

Favorite headcanon: He's incredibly Fade-sensitive, though he can't use magic directly. He can feel the Fade being manipulated around him and how in ways that most non-mages really can't fathom. For example, he can tell when Hawke is about to throw a fireball and he needs to get the hell out of the way versus she's about to cast a buff on him. He just attributes this to a lifetime of training with a mage father and two mage siblings rather than any innate ability. When it's pointed out to him that, no, this is pretty unusual, he just kinda scoffs and says anybody could figure it out if they tried hard enough.

Bethany:

First impression: Unfortunately I can't trace my Bethany opinions back to a series of embarrassing forum posts in 2010/2011. I think my first impression is what everyone's is: that Bethany is a sweetheart baby sister, a pure cinnamon roll.

Impression now: She's more complicated than the above. She's still a ray of sunshine, still kind and thoughtful, but she also carries so much anger and guilt. She feels just as trapped in a life she doesn't want as Carver does. Even more so, because at least Carver can hope to escape his circumstances: Bethany can't stop being a mage.

Favorite moment: ALL of her banters with Isabela. I adore their relationship more than anything.

Idea for a story: I wouldn't mind a story about her leaving Kirkwall after DA2 and ending up in Ferelden with the rebel mages. I would REALLY love a story where she meets a Ferelden noble (maybe a Cousland Warden?) who just falls hopelessly and madly in love with her and ultimately Bethany becomes a teyrna or arlessa or something. Give my girl the fairy tale she used to read about as a lonely child in Lothering.

Unpopular opinion: I can’t think of anything direct, though maybe my preference for a Mage Hawke worldstate (which means Bethany dies) could count?

Favorite relationship: The relationship between the twins haunts the narrative, to me at least. I picture each twin considering the other their better half and something irreplaceable is missing once they're gone. I am also a little bit obsessed with Bethany/Isabela ever since the banter that Isabela sends her naughty books in the Circle.

Favorite headcanon: That she allows herself to be caught and taken to the Circle. She surely would have heard that Bartrand's expedition returned to the city and probably believed Hawke to be dead. In a world where Hawke isn't a mage, Bethany has spent her whole life feeling guilty for what her family has gone through to protect her. Then both of her siblings die, and taking care of Leandra has fallen onto Bethany's shoulders. I think she has enough quiet self-loathing to believe that the best way to keep her mother safe is to remove the riskiest, most volatile thing from her life: Bethany herself. Plus Bethany is just tired of running, tired of hiding, and tired of feeling so very alone.

#askbox memes #MY SPECIAL BABIES #hawke family feels

[mamuzzy]

🍓🍅

Thank you for the ask ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

🍓 - how did you get into writing fanfiction?  Honestly? I don't know. Sometimes I feel I shouldn't be writing because I don't consider myself well-read in literature. I'm really picky about genres when it's about actual books and mostly always go for documentaries instead of fiction. So strangely my love for writing came first and then my love for reading, and much later reading fanfictions about favorite characters were a great reintroduction for me to actual books.

My first conscious hyperfixation was Teen Titans at age 9-10, but my first fanfiction was actually from a game, Spellforce: Order of Dawn that came out around the same time. I wish I had kept it, it was written in a little teal-notebook with an usamimi anime girl on its cover. :((( I was so obsessed how pretty and badass the elves looked in that game (as pretty as it could get in 2003) that I wanted more about them. There were a few named characters in the Eloni level, and I thought: Hmm. What if they were friends? So I made them best friends and comrade-in-arms, off to kill a dragon. Nothing shippy. Just badass girls fighthing. But in the same notebook I started to write a Teen Titans fic too afterwards. :D But also around this time (and last time) I worked actively original stuff too, some self-insert urban fantasy, inspired by weird dreams.

So I think it was just about wanting a certain scenario to exist? They were in my head so much rent-free, I made them work for they stay? :D

Fanfic writing always came secondary after drawing, but after a while I stopped doing both of it. :((( I recently started again.

🍅 - give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

You are shit, do it better

I think I need to work on my english vocabulary and grammar especially learning how to use the different past-tenses (ughh...). I read that it's easier if you write fics right away in english instead of writing it in your own language then translate it. But when I write in english, I often feel restricted by my current knowledge. If I waited until I was good enough, then I would never share anything ^^'

Also:

I need to work on using more descriptions of body-language.

#mamuzzy answers #teen titans #spellforce #spellforce: order of dawn