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randomdragonfires · 1 month

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Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?”

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment.

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.

“Your Grace.” he bows.

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

“Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

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albentelisa · 4 months

Note

Hello!!! Jim here from the @theonceandfuturetrollhunter blog, but I'm making this text anonymous because Clotpole (who owns my blog) doesn't want the reply back- I'll have to search for it instead 😂😒

Anyway, we love your headcanons and the AUs you create with adks back here in Arcadia- Claire is obsessed with reading them- and we wanted to know how you wpould take to this AU...

What if mine and Claire's roles were swapped over (me being the wizard and Claire being the Trollhunter) but we found out about our respective roles at the times we did in the show (me first, then Claire)?

Can't wait for the reply!!!!

Hi, Jim:)

This ask is something I really like, so I've put it up my queue of asks (there are more than thirty of those in my inbox, holy trolls!).

Anyway, to the AU.

So, in this AU Kanjigar manages to escape during his battle with Bular, so Jim and Toby pass through the canals as usual, with nothing happening. Toby sees that his bro is slightly disappointed that it's just a regular day and suggests investigating the stone monsters Eli mentioned. Obviously, Toby doesn't believe in any supernatural creatures, thinking those are just another one of Eli's delusions, but he thinks Jim needs some fun (and a minor adventure is better than no adventure at all).

It turns out to be a horrible mistake as Bular is pissed because of his failure and is actively looking for a consolation snack. Jim and Toby look like a wonderful meal for him. Bular nearly catches Toby - and it's when Jim awakes his shadow magic, firstly blasting and injuring Bular and then teleporting Toby and himself to the safe location. Jim collapses afterward as he has pushed past his limits.

The next morning, Toby is excited, but Jim is conflicted as he isn't sure it's the kind of adventure he wants. Besides, his newfound magic keeps acting on its own, complicating his life.

Jim comes to Strickler to talk about his issue, but chickens at the last second and tells some lie. Strickler initially believes that it's something trivial, but later notices Jim falling through the shadow portal, and everything clicks. After all, last night, Bular came back enraged, cursing some fleshbag wizard who injured him and swearing to kill that bastard. Strickler deduces that the wizard in question could be Jim. Unlike Bular, he wonders if he can use Jim's talent (after all, all the changelings are connected to shadow magic) and decides to get even closer to his student.

Meanwhile, Douxie visits Jim (as he learned about him from Archie who witnessed the encounter with Bular). Douxie wouldn't get involved in most cases, but apparently, Jim's magic is too strong for someone born during this age, and Jim lacks control, which could easily lead to a lot of damage. So Douxie decides to teach him a bit.

Because Bular has a personal vendetta against Jim, soon enough Kanjigar contacts him as well. Jim learns about the Trollhunter and his mission and proposes to help him (after some initial shock, Jim starts to wonder if there is some meaning to the fact that he got magic). Kanjigar is against it - he has worked alone since the very beginning, and well, Jim is a kid. Jim and Toby still sneak to the Trollmarket, and meet Blinky and Aaarrrgghh there. Blinky believes that having a trollhunting team might not be such a bad idea, so now there are four of them trying to help Kanjigar. Draal eventually joins too, becoming the fifth member. Jim keeps this fact from Douxie because Douxie forbids him to risk his life needlessly (out of concern that there might be another spike in Jim's developing magic which can be harmful to his soul). As for Toby, he gets his Warhammer early on.

Meanwhile, Strickler gets close to Barbara, wondering if she knows her son's secret. He discovers rather fast that she is in the dark about everything and uses it for his own profit.

Much like in the canon, Jim is in the school play, but he skips less because his outings are more controlled (be it magic lessons with Douxie or visits to the Trollmarket), so he has less friction with Claire. Claire still senses that Jim hides something and tries to talk to him about it.

Jim and Toby are the ones who discover the hideout at the museum and basically trigger all the changeling-related events, including Enrique's kidnapping. Enrique is picked because Jim is a regular guest at Claire's house by this point, and Strickler feels that he can use another pair of eyes.

Jim is the one who goes to the concert with Claire in this AU, while Toby babysits Enrique. Claire is initially upset with Jim afterward as she thinks that Toby and Jim decided to prank her together, but after giving it some thought, tries to investigate what is wrong.

Jim still gets Grit-shaka from Draal and ends up exposing his connection to trolls before Douxie before running to fight Bular. Much like in the canon, Bular exposes Strickler.

Claire catches her fake brother herself and encounters Jim, asking if he knows too. Jim decides to tell her everything.

Kanjigar decides to face Bular head-on together with his team (plus Douxie, who joins at the last second). Together they slay him and recover the Killahead.

Now that everything is more or less safe, Claire comes to Kanjigar and asks him to save her brother. Jim and Toby join her pleas, and Jim says that he'll travel to the Darklands himself if Kanjigar disagrees. Kanjigar agrees after some consideration (the previous Trollhunters are against it, but Kanjigar reminds them that his team has slain Bular).

Strickler frees Angor Rot, much like in the canon. Angor, however, disobeys the first command to attack the Trollhunter and judge his skill and goes for Jim instead (he senses his shadow magic and decides to get rid of someone who can possibly become a second Morgana). In this fight, Jim manages to wrestle out the shadow staff. After some examination, Douxie allows him to use it - as the shadow staff, apparently, stabilizes Jim's rather chaotic magic.

The Trollhunters recover the first triumbric stone, but during the quest at the Quagawumps' swamp, the tragedy happens - Kanjigar dies, taking the hit from Angor meant for Claire (it's something that will haunt her for a while). The amulet chooses her as the next champion, but she is conflicted wondering if she can be a good one. After all, she couldn't protect her brother, and Kanjigar died because of her. Draal also doesn't help as he questions her worth (he isn't as bad as he was with Jim in the canon, but his words are still mean).

Jim, however, believes in Claire and says that she can be the best (after all, she is a quick learner, brave, and loyal). Claire starts training, hoping to be able to catch up quickly. Draal warms up eventually and comes to help her.

Angor doesn't make any deal with the Trollhunters in this AU, as he doesn't trust Jim by default. Douxie is the one who suggests stealing Inferna Copula from Strickler, but much like in the canon it ends destroyed, and Angor unleashes his anger at Strickler, Jim, and everyone else. Barbara walks in amid the fight and gets wounded. In this AU she learns everything without losing her memories. Obviously, she is mad at Strickler for using her to get to Jim.

Angor Rot is the first Claire's major opponent, but she manages to defeat him with the help of Jim, Toby, and Draal. Draal feels that his father is avenged and thanks Claire.

However, for Claire, it's not enough. She doesn't want to lose another team member, so goes to the Darklands alone (besides, she was the one who requested that mission to start with). She saves Enrique but ends up trapped.

And here's the problem - only the Trollhunter can open the portal to the Darklands. Jim tries to find an alternative solution and finds a book in Douxie's library about summoning spirits and letting them possess the body. There is a risk, however, as the one who performs it is more vulnerable to possession later, but Jim is willing to risk. He summons Kanjigar's spirit and the team heads into the Darklands to save Claire.

Gunmar getting out isn't the only consequence of that venture. Morgana senses Jim's mind's vulnerability and starts to take over. She resurrects Angor first, then contacts Gunmar.

No one realizes that something is off with Jim at first, chalking most of the stuff to the shadow magic acting up. Claire gets suspicious first and goes to Douxie, demanding if all of that is actually shadow magic. Douxie admits that his fellow student Morgana was odd at times too. After hearing that, Claire is even more worried, and she and Douxie encounter Jim - only to realize that Morgana already fully possesses him.

Claire and Douxie restrain possessed Jim and decide to travel inside his mind to free him. They also bring Toby and Barbara with them, as more meaningful people should make it more likely to succeed. Jim is free, and fighting Morgana gives him a better understanding of his own magic.

With Gunmar and Morgana around the team decides to wake up Merlin (per Douxie's suggestion). And, well, Merlin isn't excited to learn that Douxie got involved and even took a shadowmancer as an apprentice (he is pretty much convinced that Jim will end the same as Morgana if not worse).

Merlin also plans to turn Claire into a half-troll, but as Douxie is around, he investigates the ingredients and discovers what they might do. The team encounters Merlin, and he admits his intentions but tells everyone there is no other choice. Strickler, however, intervenes and makes a guess that there might be some alternative in the Janus Order's records, which turns out to be true. The alternative just requires some blood from a shadowmancer, which Jim gladly provides. Claire becomes a shapeshifter with the ability to change forms at will.

However, Merlin also comes to Jim regarding Morgana. It's possible to seal her inside the Shadow Realm, but all the links between it and the outside world should be cut, meaning that Jim should stay inside the Shadow Realm for good. Merlin appeals to Jim's insecurities and reminds him that the shadow magic is evil, convincing Jim that it'll be better for everyone.

However, Claire overhears this conversation and confronts Jim about it. She also reminds him that Merlin's solutions have already proved to be not the only answer and that their team has already found an alternative once, so it's possible to find another one.

The encouragement from Claire prompts Jim to craft his own spell for the first time to use against Morgana. So, once the Eternal Night comes, both Claire and Jim defeat Gunmar and Morgana respectfully.

@theonceandfuturetrollhunter, I know that you feel down now, so hopefully, this one cheers you up a bit:)

#tales of arcadia #toa au #what if scenario #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #trollhunter claire #shadowmancer jim #roles reversal au #text post #ask box

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gimletagain · 2 years

Text

brain dump

What delicious tea we’ve all been given. And welcome back @the-empress-7for leading the charge. I have sooo many thoughts on this mess but that’s all conflicting with summer travel and business, so I’ll consolidate them all here.

First the nits: I don’t know if it’s the result of serialization or his writing style but I’ve found some of his storytelling to be confusing. For instance, the Vogue meltdown:

Her first task, said Meghan, was to demand that the official publication date in Britain be delayed by one day to let publication in the US take the lead. America’s reaction, she was certain, would be more positive than Britain’s.

What US publication? The US Vogues and UK Vogues are separate publications. September issue featured Taylor Swift that year. Did she mean she wanted the UK Vogue to be released before the US? The whole thing is kind of confusing. I have no doubt she tried to meddle but the story is a bit vague and I’d like to understand it more.

Now onto the good stuff:

The narcissism details are just ((CHEF’s KISS)). Imagine you show up at a date’s place and their house is plastered with photos … OF THEMSELVES. The fact that Harry accepted this and didn’t run away just shows how dim he really is. The crazy diva demands as a total nobody. The Tom enabled delusions about her childhood activism.

Related: her manipulation tactics are referenced as well. Love the detail on how she “negged” her interviewer on his stutter. Classic pickup artist tactic that all those incels on Reddit love - basically using these little disses that sound like compliments (“You have such a pretty face, you could model if you were skinny”) to diminish someone’s confidence. She is literally one of those creeps.

The sources are just great. The recounting of the VF interview could have only come from the journalist himself, as did the details about what she said directly into the mike. Tom Bower really did say, I HEARD THE TAPES!

Actually, my biggest question to Tom after all this tea is something I hope he will cover in the book. We all know that she had a pretty well stocked team to make her image for her: Sunshine, lawyers, Kruger Crowne. Yes, it is that easy if you hire the right people. The problem is most actors are broke and don’t get access to those people until the studio is paying for them, after they’ve been cast in some things, to promote their next projects. Rarely is a random unknown just paying out of pocket for them. The million dollar question is: who was paying for all this??

Sunshine reps Serena, JLo, Harvey Weinstein at his Miramax heyday. How the %*}}^€ was a f-list actress on a cable show able to afford them? How was she able to command the resources of an A-list star getting studio level promotions and pitching her to big corporations for campaigns?

Some of it I will chalk up to cleverness. For instance, Kruger Crowne is pretty niche. I don’t think it’s that expensive to get set up with random charities and do a few photo ops, and props to her that she figured out these charity photos and events make her look more famous than she is. The problem is she would’ve probably had to pay for the appearances - her own flights, her own everything. She even admitted that during her UN speech she raided the Suits closet. Which is why no other actors rarely go this route, it’s not very useful unless you’re trying to come up with a paper trail for why you’re a 99 cent Princess Diana.

But hiring a full fledged team like Sunshine and lawyers is still a complete mystery to me. That can’t be explained and that’s some Anna Delvey sh*t. Where did the money come from? Cory? Her dad? I don’t event think her entire acting paycheck, even if she mooched off of Cory for all her living expenses, could pay for those services. And that’s not getting into her “fun” money - the money she needed to go out every night and look cute at Soho house, travel to Italy, whatever.

I don’t believe that she was a yacht girl, btw. I think she was amazing about offloading costs and pulling “I’ll pay you later” and mooching off of men she dates. But I’d love it if Tom dug into her money mysteries of exactly how she funded this lifestyle.

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cowboylikeekatie · 8 months

Text

here’s reddie lyrics: evermore edition!! (ahh i can’t believe this series thingy is almost done i’ve had sm fun!) if this post is super long don’t make fun of me this is my fav taylor album EVER i’ve annotated every song it’s just so easy to find quotes

“the more that you say, the less that i know, wherever you stray, i follow , i’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that’s my man” - willow (eddie’s pov)

“show me the places where the others gave you scars” - willow (richie’s pov)

champagne problems is if eddie divorced myra after pennywise round 2

“your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems” - champagne problems (okay idk if this makes sense but myra’s pov?????)

“so inviting, i almost jump in” - gold rush (richie’s pov)

gold rush plays into my eddie kaspbrak when emma falls in love theory thingy idk

“at dinner parties i call you out on your contrarian shit” - gold rush (eddie’s pov)

ALL OF TIS THE DAMN SEASON

“and it always leads to you in my hometown” - tis the damn season

“i parked my car right between the methodist and the school that used to be ours” - tis the damn season (richie’s pov)

“so i’ll go back to L.A, and the so called friends who write books about me, if i ever make it, and wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles im faking, and the heart i know i’m breaking is my own” - tis the damn season (POV DOESNT MATTER THIS IS THEIR BRIDGE. AHH)

“there’ll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you too” - happiness (richie’s pov)

“honey when i’m above the trees, i see this for what it is, but now i’m right down in it, all the years i’ve given” - happiness (richie’s pov)

“i can’t see facts through all my fury” - happiness (richie’s pov) (like when the losers wouldn’t let richie take eddie because they knew he was already dead)

“it’s never too late to come back to my side, the stars in your eyes shined brighter in tupelo (metaphor for derry??), and if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know, you know, you’ll always know me” - dorthea (richie’s pov)

“i’m sitting on a bench in coney island wondering where did my baby go” - coney island (richie’s pov) (i heard this live so i have to include a quote)

“id meet you where the spirit meets the bone” - ivy

“forever is the sweetest con” -cowboy like me

“takes one to know one, you’re a cowboy like me” - cowboy like me

(cowboy like me is my all time fav taylor song)

“i tried to pick my battles till the battle picked me” - long story short (eddie’s pov)

“pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips, long story short it was the wrong guy” - long story short (eddie’s pov) (because he’s in love with richie not myra) (after leaving his mom, he CLUNG to the nearest person who made him feel at home)

“every scrap of you would be taken from me” - marjorie (richie’s pov)

“if i didn’t know better, id think you were still around” - marjorie (richie’s pov)

“what died didn’t stay dead” - marjorie

“it cut deep to know you right to the bone” - closure

“don’t treat me like, some situation that needs to be handled” - closure (eddie’s pov) (but about his mom not richie)

“this pain would be for evermore” - evermore (richie’s pov)

“guess i’m feeling unmoored, can’t remember, what i used to fight for” - SO EDDIE CODED (eddie’s pov)

“catching my death” - evermore (eddies pov)

“strangers get born and strangers get buried, trends change rumors fly through new skies, but i’m right where you left me” - right where you left me (richie’s pov)

“did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen, time went on for everybody else, she won’t know it, she’s still 23, inside her fantasy, how it was supposed to be, did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?" - right where you left me (fits both of them in different ways)

" or that moment again, he's insisting that friends look at each other like that" - its time to go

"sometimes giving up is the strong thing, sometimes to run is the brave thing" - its time to go (eddies pov)

“he’s got my past frozen behind glass, but i’ve got me” - its time to go (eddie’s pov ab his mom)

#it 2019 #it 2017 #taylor swift #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #it 1990 #richie tozier #stephen king #losers club

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laslow · 9 months

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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: all the ladies out there ;D

Name: Samantha/Sam

Pronouns: she/her

Birthday (no year): May 28

Where are you from? What is your time zone? California! I am on PST timezone so three hours behind the TOA clock

Roleplay experience: Over 10 years! (Dear Naga the passage of time)

Got any pets? No :(

Favorite time of year: Winter!

Some interests and things you like: Reading but that's a given. I'm a huge history nerd and love learning random facts. Also love languages and have tried learning a handful of them but never stick to it rip. Dragons are my fave fantasy creature. (I'm terrible at filling these things out LOL)

Some fun facts & trivia about you: -I own about 300 books -I can skateboard -I wanted to be a geologist as a child until I learned how much math was involved -I can play the piano and a tiny bit of violin -I've never broken a bone

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Zelda, Persona, SSB, Honkai Star Rail

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Water & Vaporeon!

How did you get into Fire Emblem? Watching my brother play on the GameCube

What Fire Emblem games have you played? Physically played: Everything from SacStones on. Read scripts for Genealogy and Thracia.

First Fire Emblem game: Path of Radiance

Favorite Fire Emblem game: Awakening!

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 Take a WILD guess. LMAO but besides the Boy of All Time, I can admit I have a crush on Xander.

If you’ve played the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: Chrom and I'd still S support him I'm basic and that's ok - Fates: Silas and it's a tossup between him and Leo now - Three Houses: Dimitri and still Dimitri. - Engage: Diamant and still Diamant I know what I'm about

Favorite Fire Emblem class: Swordmaster!

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class? Swordmaster!

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

If you were an Engage character, which Emblem would you Engage with? It's a tie between Leif and Eirika & Ephraim

How did you find TOA? I saw an advertisement for the group on tumblr WAAAAY back when

Current TOA muses: Inilow, Leo, and Azelle

Who was your first TOA muse? If you don’t have them anymore, could you see yourself picking them up again? The one and only Inigo. I really can't see myself dropping him unless I left the group.

Have you had any other TOA muses? Ilyana and Vanessa!

Do you think you have a type of character you gravitate towards?The loyal ones for sure. A shocking amount have sibling complexes and I don't know what that says about me as a person.

What do you believe you enjoy writing the most? Honestly, I enjoy writing a little bit of everything! Happiness, angst, romance. But if I have to pick a favorite it'd be combat :thinking: Something about the adrenaline

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔 Tee-Oh-Ay

Favorite TOA-related memory: Oh naga. I literally cannot pick one so any and all the inside jokes/memes that pop up that would NOT make sense to anyone else

Got any delusions that didn’t see the light of day that you’d like to share? 😉Coughs into hands. If I said I had a Seth blog what then. Silas is up there too and there's a few from Thracia I have my eye on

#and a one. a two! [ooc]#THIS WAS SO CUTE WAH #pardon me can i be a sap for a moment:#i have grown so much in the group over the last (almost) four years #learned a lot about myself/even how to handle friendships and while it's been a rocky road #i think i finally have that confidence in myself i've been lacking #and cannot wait to see what the next year(s) bring #<3 thank you toa

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l1tw1ck · 1 year

Text

Delusion

Ajax thinks he can get his favorite camboy to fall in love with him

Bottom!FTM!Scaramouche x Top!Ajax

[Inspo 1 ] (NSFW) + [Inspo 2] | [Part Two] | AFAB language is used heavily

Contains: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Dead Dove, Stalking, Drugging, Somnophilia (Oral), Masturbating, Dacryphilia, Painful Sex, Anal, Mention of Blood

Words: 1,593 | Reader Discretion is Advised!!

──────────────────

Ajax is what any person would describe as a creepy incel. He's attractive but his personality ruins it for him.

Every Friday and Saturday night, he prepares his set up to watch his favorite camboy, Scaramouche. Tissues and lotion placed nicely on his desk while he sits on his expensive gaming chair with his shorts pulled down.

He watches Scaramouche adjust his position on the bed, bringing his body into full view. Save for his face.

He takes a thick dildo and rubs his cunt against it, reading the chat and looking for suggestions.

Ajax groans and wishes Scaramouche was rubbing against his dick instead...oh how cute that would be.

"Ajax~" Scaramouche would moan. "I'm gonna come~"

The ginger pervert tightens the grip on his cock, blood rushing to his cheeks at the idea.

He snaps out of his daydream and looks back at the monitor, blessed with the view of Scaramouche's backside.

"I'm not doing anal." Scaramouche hisses, using his phone to read the chat.

Just another thing on the to-do list for Ajax then. If he can't take Scaramouche's virginity, he'll take his anal virginity.

Ajax watches the rest of the stream wishing he was the dildo Scaramouche was using. Once the stream finishes he cleans up his desk and goes to take a shower. Scaramouche doesn't like smelly men.

He comes back afterwards with a message from a friend of his popping up on his desktop.

"I found his address, but what exactly do you plan to do with it?" Keqing asks. Ajax liked to make friends in high places, helping them out with the intention of getting a favor or two back from them later.

"I told you. It's for his safety, I'm worried about him." Ajax replies with a rehearsed lie. "His mental health doesn't seem so good and he hasn't been responding to my messages. I only want to check up on him."

Keqing sighs behind the screen. "Okay, I believe you." She sends him his address and for the first time in her life, prays to Rex Lapis that he doesn't do anything crazy.

Of course Rex Lapis wasn't listening today.

──────────────────

Scaramouche apparently lives in Liyue, Ajax hasn't figured out why yet. Maybe the warmth?

He learned a lot more about Scaramouche in the following weeks. His favorite food and drink, his most frequented stores, the fact that he has no friends or partner, and most importantly what his face looks like.

He also did some online research and found out that Scaramouche's real name is Kunikuzushi and he was originally a puppet created by the famous Ei. Scaramouche was meant to support its mother's company and work for her but, as Ajax assumes, didn't like that and decided to go off and make money on its own.

After watching him for a while and getting his schedule memorized, Ajax decides to finally go through with his long awaited plan. Taking Scaramouche once and for all.

With the added help of a sleeping pill, Ajax carries Scaramouche's sleeping body into the backseat of his car.

Since he's parked in a remote place, he decides to have a little fun with the sleeping male. Ajax lifts Scaramouche's shirt up to expose his perky chest, breathing heavily from being so close to him.

Ajax pulls his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free his hard and already leaking cock. He spits on his hand and starts jerking off to the small mounds on Scaramouche's chest.

"Finally mine-" He groans. "Oh Tsaritsa, I can't wait to fuck all of your holes later.." He lifts Scaramouche's head up and brings its mouth towards his dick. Ajax pries open its mouth and shoves his length inside.

"Fuck- fuck yes~" Ajax moans. "Oh God, you feel so good~"

Scaramouche stays unmoving while Ajax ravages its mouth, his thickness stretching the puppet's lips painfully wide as Ajax uses its mouth like a fleshlight.

"You don't even have a gag reflex. I bet I could come in your mouth hundreds of times and nothing would happen." His movements become sloppy as he nears his release. "Fuuck-" He comes with a loud groan and fills Scaramouche's mouth with his spend.

For a few moments the cum just sits in his mouth before Scaramouche swallows it unconsciously.

Ajax grins at the sight. It takes everything in him to stop and drive his hostage home.

──────────────────

Ajax carries the puppet into the basement which he decorated in preparation for this. He put up wallpaper of Scaramouche's favorite color, a king sized bed, figures and posters of Scara's favorite media, and two locked boxes. One of which contains gifts.

He drops him onto the bed gently and starts stripping him down completely. Ajax runs his hands along the unconscious camboy's body, touching every part in awe.

Ajax turns him around to handcuff his arms behind his back and ties his ankles together.

Knowing Scaramouche won't wake up til late next morning, he brings the both of them underneath the covers and cuddles him to sleep.

Scaramouche is woken up to Ajax sliding his length in between his thighs. He's barely able to react because of the lingering after effects of the drug. "What the fuck?" He hisses.

Ajax's focused face turns joyous when he hears his beloved's voice. "You're awake." He says while still thrusting.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Scaramouche struggles to get away, his desperation just enough to make Ajax come.

"Fuck...you're so fucking sexy." Ajax groans in pleasure. "Remember Childe? Your highest donator?"

How could Scaramouche forget, Childe never missed a stream. He always thought of him as a weirdo but viewed him in a better light than all his other donors. He seemed nicer, sweeter...

"Let me go." Scaramouche says sternly.

"Let you go?" Ajax scoffs. "You're never leaving me, Kunikuzushi."

It pauses at the use of its real name. "How the hell did you find out about that?" He purposefully forced his mother to remove all photos of him from the articles.

"Oh you know, the abyss web has a lot of secret information. Such as information about you being a puppet."

Scaramouche's face twists into horror.

His expression turns Ajax on. "Don't worry though, I only knew it was you because I saw your creation certificate. It's cute that your mom made it and still has it even after you 'disowned' her." He grabs the bottle of lube on the bed, which was previously used to make Scaramouche's thighs easier to fuck.

"You're- you're a fucking perverted freak!"

Ajax pours a small amount into his hand, just barely enough to allow for an easier entrance, and slowly pushes a finger past the rim of Scaramouche's hole. "That's right, I'm a freak. I'm fucking disgusting, right? You think I'm a gross pervert, don't you?"

Scaramouche's face scrunches up both in discomfort and disgust. "Stop!"

Ajax listens intently to his protests and adds another finger. "It's stretching around my fingers so nicely..."

Scaramouche yells and writhes around but to no avail. "Take them out!"

He smiles and does as he's told, positioning his dick at Scaramouche's hole.

"No! Thats-" Scaramouche bites his lip as Ajax forces his way through. "It hurts- fuck-"

Ajax could hear his heart pounding out of his chest, the excitement of being inside Scaramouche almost too much to handle.

Scaramouche kept his eyes shut tight, both due to the pain and not wanting to see the ginger's crazed expression. The contrast of his dead eyes and his terrifying smile was enough to give anybody chills.

"Oh fuck~" Ajax revels in the feeling, thankfully giving the puppet time to adjust. It isn't much time though, Ajax quickly recovers and starts thrusting.

The lack of lube makes it nowhere near pleasurable, only Ajax's pre cum aids him. But even that isn't enough.

Scaramouche swears he's bleeding down there now. He gives up on his protests knowing it only turns his captor on.

"Yeah- so quiet and good for me~"

The small male closes his eyes tight, hoping the pain can allow him to drift off to sleep.

Ajax's constant and rough thrusts prevent him from doing so. "Oh Kuni~" He grabs Scaramouche's thighs and lifts him up to fuck into him even deeper.

It's like time has slowed down for Scaramouche, every thrust more agonizing than the last. "No more...please.." His voice wavers.

Ajax melts from his sweet pleading. "That's right, beg~"

Even knowing it's a turn on for his captor, Scaramouche continues begging in hopes he'll show mercy.

"Please stop...please.." He's never been in a situation where he's had to beg anyone for anything, it's either an argument or them obeying him without question.

Ajax groans. "Gonna come~"

Scaramouche silently thanks whichever Archon was listening as he feels the Snezhnayan's thrusts slow down. The nasty feeling of cum invading his ass made him sick but at least it's over.

Ajax slowly pulls out and stares as his cum dribbles out of Scaramouche. He takes pictures of his hole and his body and tries not to get hard again.

"Don't...don't fucking post that."

"It's for me only, of course." Ajax smiles and opens up a drawer next to the bed. He takes out a pill bottle and opens it, letting one fall into the palm of his hand. "G'night Kunikuzushi." Ajax slips the pill into the puppet's mouth, it correctly assumes the pill is just a sleeping pill so it swallows the drug without a fight.

Archons know he needs all the sleep he can get.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #dark content #genshin impact #wicks🕯works #tartaglia smut #childe smut #top childe #top tartaglia #childe x scaramouche #chiscara #bottom scaramouche #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x childe #scaramouche #childe tartaglia ajax #🕯️Scaramouche #🕯️Genshin

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goggles-mcgee · 1 year

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Hey, I heard that your a Dark Parables fan from someone I follow, and I has to ask. It's alright if ya don't want to, but I was wondering if you have any salt/ Hot takes for the series of Dark Parables just for fun.

Like how a plot could have been better, or how character detail could have been written to make sense for examples.

Thank you for reading, and glad to see ya back.

Hi! I have so many you don't even know my friend, I'm like legit in the middle of a re-playthrough of the whole series XD

I do gotta say one game that doesn't really feel like it "fits", feels off story wise and gameplay wise in the series to me and kinda throws off the flow of the games is Dark Parables: The Little Mermaid and the Purple Tide.

[SPOILERS AHEAD FOR DARK PARABLES: THE LITTLE MERMAID AND THE PURPLE TIDE]

I know it's weird to include gameplay mechanics in the salt list but (it sounds ridiculous I know) I have a degree in 3D Arts & Game Design so when I play games I tend to focus on game play as much as the story and graphics.

First off, I genuinely am always thrown off because for a game called The Little Mermaid and the Purple Tide....the Purple Tide had a minimal role. Like it was a thing but only in the first like 5 minutes of the game. At least with Ballad of Rapunzel, the flowers were a constant issue as well as the plant monsters. They made sense. Then we have the princess who annoyed me more than anything. Her reasons for being stand-offish or down right rude and somewhat a mini boss to get by were kind of....dumb. like usually the mini boss has a reason for what they did and why they fight the Detective until ultimately lending help, and the reason is usually sound (in the game Universe logic anyways) or good.

Of course you could argue that her reasons are the same as other game characters. Which,, yeah, but it felt weak in comparison. She wanted to find the last Elemental Orb to save her father, her father who was completely off his rocker. But she also thirsts to become human so like, she's doing it for selfish reasons and only after she basically gutted Pinocchio was she wanting you to save her and then willing to help you. If I could have left her to the piranhas or whatever they were....I would have.

That brings me to my issue with the godforsaken Elemental Orbs! They are supposed to be the King's only salvation after being cursed! Yeah? Yeah. Except they are also the treasures that broke the the curse on his daughters! Now you may be thinking this isn't really an issue or something to be mad about but for me it just infuriates me that the daughters broke their curses and yet the orbs were still powerful enough to cure their father....their father who they left so they could pursue their own lives. Like legit. They leave him even though they wanted to help cure him and his sanity but no. After they gained their legs they skeddadeled! Their stories were interesting! I give it that but the fact they left their cursed father and sisters to their fate never sat right with me.

Also it's never mentioned how the King got the orbs after the daughters broke their curses because it never says they went into the sea to take them back. So how does he have them???? If they used them I think they should be null and void and he should have just thought in all his delusion that one orb would be enough for him to experiment with. We're supposed to believe that this family is worth saving and I gotta say...I did not feel like helping at all during that whole game. I did it very reluctantly.

Then the mechanics are added in and yeah...least favorite game right here. It's honestly one that is very forgettable until someone asks me if there's a game I dislike from the series and then BAM! It comes rearing it's ugly head back in my face. The mechanic overall were very stiff, the accessing of your inventory to the change of locations all felt stiff and clunky as opposed to the others games in the series.

Also they didn't have to so Pinocchio like that. They really didn't.

Another point against the game was the fact we never got a scene hinting at the next game which was always part of the whole Dark Parables experience and to not have it really made the game not feel like part of the series. Maybe it's silly, but it was as much a part of the series as the collective parables themselves. Just having the statue in the Temple wasn't enough nor satisfying.

In the end all I have to say is I get why the Sea Goddess cursed everyone. I would have too. Both kingdoms were fickle people and honestly their whole backstop wasn't that intriguing. Like I'd get the tidbits of info and just be like meh.

I could rant about this game a lot but in doing so I just get more petty, especially stupid small things so I will leave this here.

In the end, all I can say is they could have made a better plot, one that was more engaging and made me care. Because I adore The Little Mermaid, in any font, but this font was my comic sans.

#dark parables #blue tea games #dark parables: the little mermaid and the Purple Tide #dark parables salt #goggles ask #goggles answer

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disemboweled-fish-pastry · 2 years

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This might be a hot take but has anyone considered that Yoosung is a non-violent yandere type? Maybe even not Yandere at all??

I mean, for one thing, Seven likes to make things up to poke fun at Yoosung for his naivety, how do we know he isn't doing that with us too? -And we were all just as naïve to believe him. lol

Now, I don't really, necessarily believe that's true, but it was an interesting ponder to consider.

Thing is, I was thinking to myself, how violent or off the rails does a person have to be to be considered Yandere? Some believe you have to be on the extreme end to be a yandere, some say yanderes can be non-violent, too. See, all this time I never really got a concrete answer. Many only think of the extreme side, where the yandere kills a person that is in their way, but the Yan part, short for Yanderu, means to be ill; In this case, mentally ill, and of course dere is the "love" part of the word.

That being said, Yoosung being considered 'yandere' could potentially extend to his most extreme offense, which was allowing the bomb to go off in Rika's apartment.

If you think about it, if Yoosung was as ravenous and murder hungry as one might generally picture a yandere, wouldn't he have shredded Saeran Unknown to pieces and killed him the moment he heard he was planning to allow you (the MC) to explode with the rest of them and threatened to push the button to the detonator? I think if Yoosung were to be a harmful yandere, it'd have to be at the very most, self inflicted or negligent. Yoosung is the one who ended up hurt in that confrontation, after all.

Wait...

Do we ever find out what happened when Yoosung escaped? Saeran was ready to... well make a sacrifice of his own, because he truly felt it was what he deserved after failing his mission. We have no evidence that Yoosung did anything during their confrontation other than try to hold him off while Seven escaped. In fact, he seems to un-tense the moment he saw Seven leave; That's the moment when Saeran had the chance to apprehend him and decide how he was going to claim vengeance for getting in the way. The weird thing is how he decided to take his eye sight, but pretty much let Yoosung go or somehow escape. I guess I can only infer he didn't feel the need, since Yoosung wasn't his target anyway. Not to mention reinforcements were on the way, and I'm sure Saeran just needed to get out of there. Maybe it was that.

Anyway, I digressed. There is no proof that Yoosung would hurt anyone out of gratification. Perhaps as a result of trying to protect his love, or who knows, maybe himself if {his love} were to ever reject him. We know he went to a really bad place when it came to losing his cousin. Maybe even, 'let's escape this world together', if he were to be in a bad enough state of psychosis.

I think it's enough that he's obsessive, possessive, and comes off overly paranoid to be considered yandere by many. I mean, some people consider masochism ill, so that's also a thing. Delusions (when it came to comparing MC to Rika).. Dissociative psychosis (As in the first bad ending). The most outwardly aggressive and threatening he's been seen to be is when he threatens to destroy Seven's computers, which he didn't actually do in the end. Those kinds of things could be enough to consider him yandere if you use the root meaning alone. Just not a hard core yandere. I'm not truly convinced the boy has a murderous bone in his body. He's not angry enough. Even when he's angry he's still a puppy.

Despite that, it doesn't mean I'm not willing to suspend my disbelief for the sake of appreciating someone's art and it's message. I actually enjoy those, too, I just don't really truly, think Yoosung is outwardly, gratifyingly violent.

I imagined a scenario where MC was aware of Seven's warning, making her mildly on edge, and seeing Yoosung in the kitchen while he's cooking something. She sees some blood on his clothes, and nervously asks "Honey, what's that? Why do you have blood on your clothes." He smiles innocently with a bit of embarrassment, holding up his blood clad kitchen knife; "Ahh, I accidentally cut my finger while chopping the vegetables... oh! You wanna give it a kiss for me?"

#Mystic Messenger #Yoosung Kim #Mysme Yoosung #MM Yoosung #MM Analysis #MM Unknown #Mysme Unknown #Saeran Choi #MM*Analysis

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veronicasanders · 2 years

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What’s something absolutely unhinged that you believed in childhood that you later learned was not in fact true? Bonus points if it's a funny lie a relative told you. Have you ever had to come up with any elaborate lie for a kid yourself?

Hello darling!!! Love this one!!! You might learn some things that make you a little scared…then again, you know me pretty well so this might not surprise you at all... 😂💖✨

I think the unhinged things I believed as a kid were mostly the product of my own unhinged mind, rather than things people told me:

For awhile (like, aged 4ish, I think? Maybe 5 a little too?), I was operating under the theory/paranoid delusion that I was the only human and everyone else was an alien or actor (basically a Truman Show scenario but more like a science experiment) and they all had ways to watch me at any given moment. So like, a powder compact or handheld mirror was actually a screen that showed what I was doing. The REALLY unhinged part was that since I was kind of a ham and an exhibitionist, this didn’t really bother me very much, and I just adjusted my behavior to kind of play to the cameras for awhile until the fantasy of it wore off and seemed less plausible. Also I was pretty sure that at least my Grandma was real so that kind of blew the lid off the whole thing.

Around the same age, like 5 or so…because of some random expressions that my family had, I made a strange leap of logic that both the word and the action of “tickling” was something my dad and his brothers made up to torture/amuse me and my cousins. I was very surprised to learn this was an Actual Thing that other people knew about and did outside our family.

This wasn't a specific belief but more of a General Sense, but I had a feeling during a lot of my childhood, especially after we moved away from my extended family, that whenever I was with just my immediate family, things weren't Real. As in, I was just like, playing the role of Daughter/Sister in some TV show, and the only things that were real were when we were around a lot of cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. Like any less than 10 family members felt like a very strange and foreign and made-up existence.

I should say, also, that I was usually the one TELLING the unhinged and elaborate lies rather than believing them. They often involved me trying to convince other kids my age that I was actually a robot or an alien or had powers of some kind. Usually under the context of 'pretend,' although sometimes forgot to warn the others that that’s what we were doing. When I was 6, my family moved cross-country, and I used my New Kid Clout to spin a very elaborate tale for my classmates, that I had psychic powers and could get visions of their lives by holding their hands. I would demonstrate these powers at recess, and usually they were cute and silly and kind of vague things like “You will have a pet chicken named Esmerelda” or “Your grandfather misses you, you should call him” or “pay attention to rainbows!”

Anyway, half the fun was the drama; I would take their hands and roll my eyes back and really get into the performance of the ✨vision✨ and then open my eyes and tell them what I’d “seen.” And we’d all be having a great time. But then when this one kid was gonna take her turn - and I guess (I learned years later when this all came up again) she was already scared, because she was Catholic and kind of thought I was probably a bit Satanic to have or use these powers to begin with, lmao.

So I take her hands, do my regular thing, only much shorter, and then I let go of her hands and gasp and go “Oh no!” And then look straight at her with a very serious expression and go, “You’re going to die. Soon.”

And then recess was over and this poor kid went back to her class shaking like a leaf and apparently couldn’t sleep for like 2 weeks and finally told her mother, who had to convince her 6-year-old that no, she was not going to die, and I was just playing a game and did not have psychic powers. (One of many exhausted phone calls my mother had to endure from parents being like, "Yes, V has a very active imagination, I'm so sorry. No, she doesn't remember saying that, I...Yeah, I'll talk to her. Sorry again. I'm sorry...I'm sorry." All while I blithely acted out Soap Opera storylines with my dolls.)

(Also - we stayed friends, and when she recounted her side of the story to me in high school and how much distress it had caused, of course I felt fucking TERRIBLE, because I really didn’t remember telling anyone things that weren’t silly during that game, and I also didn’t remember it as anything but a game of pretend that everyone knew was pretend. #oops)

So yeah, I try not to lie to kids as an adult because I lied enough to kids as a kid and it caused them a lot of unintentional trauma. 😂

Another time, I sarcastically told a kid in my class that the boots I was wearing were $200 when he asked how much they were. (They were actually $7 on sale at a discount place and btw the kid was way richer than me and was wearing Air Jordans that were over $100 at the time, therefore he believed me.) Anyway this led to him telling all the other boys in my grade that I was “rich,” which is hilarious since like, there were a bunch of Actually Rich kids at my school, like Parents Had Trust Funds in the $10-500 million range rich. Meanwhile my mother was literally earning minimum wage as a yard supervisor while she got her teaching credential. These kids were morons. But I didn’t know that he’d taken me seriously until I got into a fight with another boy and he called me a “rich bitch” and I was like “wait, what?” Like fine, bitch I accept, but where did you get rich from? I was wearing hand-me-down jeans and a $3 T-shirt with puff paint I’d decorated in Girl Scout day camp on that day. And a side half-ponytail. This is just not rich person behavior.

But maybe the worst Unhinged Lie, which could have been a disaster, was the time my brother and I were pretending to be abused children to cope with the indignity of having to go lamp shopping with our parents for like 6 hours, and it nearly led to us getting sent to foster care for real. Because in one of the stores, we were huddled together under an end table in the lighting store, deep in our game (I was like 9-10 and he was 4 or 5), and one of the saleswomen heard me say something to him like “Don’t worry, I’ll never let them beat you again.” And basically it’s only due to my mother staying very VERY calm (and being smart enough to send my father to the car while she spoke to them) that we didn’t end up in a police station. (There's so much more to this story but this answer is already insanely long so let's just say...it was a very fucking crazy situation and the context of when and where it happened made it a super thin ice sliding doors moment for all of us.)

I do play pretend with kids all the time, but I make sure they know that we are pretending. To clarify, these are not like, random kids off the street, they are my cousins or my cousins’ kids or my friends’ kids.

(Although today, a 7 year old that I tutor told me that he had kicked a tortoise outside his building, and I told him that he shouldn’t do that because that hurts the tortoise. When he was unmoved by that argument, I told him that also, the tortoise could tell all his tortoise friends and then what if 100 tortoises show up to fight him holding tiny little tortoise knives. He still didn’t seem too bothered but that either so I was like, “Okay, what if the tortoises join forces with a thousand tigers and then they all come after you?” He was like, “I’d call the police to shoot the tigers.” And I was like, “Good luck calling the police when a thousand tigers have you pinned to the ground and are tearing you apart. You’d be tiger food before you could even get out your phone!” But I’m pretty certain this kid knew we were speaking in fantasy because he was laughing the whole time. Also I hope he stops kicking tortoises which is how I ended. “Okay, just stop kicking tortoises. Let’s move on to page 45…”)

Also, I find that telling More Truth Than Necessary is a better technique for dealing with uncomfortable questions from kids than elaborate lies. Like if they ask something that might be difficult to explain, just like, give them a massive amount of information and I promise they'll get bored before you run out of material.

Another thing that might be relevant here. I worked for awhile as a concierge for a company that did like, educational/recreational vacations for seniors. The gimmick was that they would stay in college dorms and have very low-key classes in things like local architecture and flower arranging and yoga and also go on day trips and to see shows and shit like that. Anyway, one of the first days, I had to replace one of the people who was supposed to be a bus tour guide and I had only a very LOOSE script and they kept asking me the names of every plant we passed and I was like “look, guys, Imma level with you…I don’t really know the names of plants. But if you want, I will make up names for you.” And I’m not sure if they fully grasped that or what but they kept asking me and I kept making up names for the entire 3-hour bus tour. (I guess that’s not really unhinged but I’m keeping it anyway because it’s so dumb.)

Hope you enjoyed this Dickensian-length answer. XOXO!!!! 💖✨

#walking down the glittertrail

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divine-donna · 2 years

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eddie munson plays genshin impact

this is a shower thought post. something random i just thought about. i’m pretty sure eddie would play genshin impact regardless if it’s “too colorful” or whatever reason someone comes up with. he’s a nerd and i believe he would love it. the open world, the high fantasy, the lore. he would.

either way, don’t take this post too seriously?

these head canons were also written during ver. 2.8

dustin introduces eddie to genshin impact. and eddie had his doubts.

“this looks like any other anime game.”

“but it’s not like any other anime game!” dustin says. “just try it out. see if you like it.”

eddie wouldn’t mind playing as either lumine or aether. but he accidentally chooses aether after pressing on a button while it’s over him. he sticks with it anyways.

finds the lore of the vision fascinating and enjoys how it’s individual to the characters.

eddie plays d&d. which obviously means he’s good at math. and because of that, he’s amazing at building. probably has sheets of papers dedicated to characters and certain builds for them.

heavy grinder. isn’t afraid to grind for hours on end. though because of his grinding, especially for ascension materials, he’s always out of resin. and whenever he gets original resin, he uses it for grinding.

never uses primogems to refill his resin.

eddie’s skill in math also makes him great with gacha pulling. of course, there are times where luck comes into play. but he knows how to calculate his gacha rates so he can get banner characters.

doesn’t necessarily have a favorite vision. but he definitely has a lot of fun using pyro and anemo characters.

favorite character is xinyan, who’s also his profile picture in game. he loves her personality and her rock star attitude. her fashion is on point as well. on top of that, she has a guitar. what’s there not to love?

he mains xinyan too and actively defends her.

other characters he enjoys include: venti, zhongli, yae miko, mona, klee, albedo, thoma, and eula.

absolutely enjoys using klee. he thinks she’s adorable. eddie always has klee on the same team as albedo too.

has a love-hate relationship with childe.

on one hand, he loves the lore aspect of childe (and thus the fatui). the idea of delusions and thus having a second vision? amazing. awesome. hates the fact that he can’t use childe’s delusion and is stuck with hydro. (it also definitely took a rerun for childe to come home to him)

loves fighting the oceanids. don’t know why but he gives me those vibes. he enjoys the challenge with the electro oceanid.

does his commissions in inazuma. he lives for the challenge that comes with the stronger enemies (even if they’re a bitch to fight).

curses. a lot. probably says “you were the chosen one!” (as a reference to star wars) when xinyan or any of his other favorite characters dies.

has a general preference of catalysts and claymores being his preferred weapons of choice. needs at least one of them on his teams.

co-opts with his friends except he has to go to their worlds because his world level is so high that they can’t go into his own. eddie has a lot of fun grinding with them and overall messing around with them in the game. he’s happy to lend a helping hand.

main team includes: xinyan, venti, yae miko, and klee.

always has a surplus of ingredients because he doesn’t cook a lot in the game.

eddie would either play on the computer or the ps system. he would never do mobile. doesn’t shame mobile players but he doesn’t understand how someone could. it doesn’t seem right to him.

he’s all about consuming the lore. so you bet he’s reading every line of dialogue. and he can probably recall most, if not all, details of the lore. he also reads the manga/manhwa on top of that.

definitely thinks the harbringers have some of the best designs in the game (and that childe is the worst looking one probably). “dottore! what an upgrade!” (not that he didn’t like dottore’s manga appearance. it has it’s own charm)

#stranger things #genshin impact #eddie munson

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ootahime · 3 years

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analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga 😈

this series will probably have more than one part because tumblr only lets me upload ten images per post </3

warning: there are disgustingly long paragraphs in here and delusions

chapter 32

utahime’s first introduction! akutami lets us know right off the bat that she thinks gojo is an idiot (so true).

chapter 32

i love the contrast between miwa and utahime’s reaction to gojo’s appearance.

chapter 33

NAH BC TELL ME WHY HE WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO NOT GET HER ONE LMAOOOO!! when he traveled overseas to meet with yuta, he picked up the tribal protection charms and thought to himself, “let’s get enough for the kyoto students as a gift since i am such a great and caring teacher, after all. mmm, i should skip utahime to make her mad~” this guy puts way too much effort into getting on her nerves. his mind = utahime brainrot

chapter 33

she’s laughing at him here because he’s getting disciplined for being a lil shit. i wonder...what would he say if he saw her laughing at him like that?

chapter 33

this interaction between them is a little strange don’t you think? i feel like over the years he’s learned how to pick up her mood based on the way she’s acting towards him. you’re probably thinking, “well any person can figure out how a person’s feeling based on the way they’re talking or acting.” yes, that’s absolutely true, but it’s kind of different with this. she’s acting normal. utahime has a rather indifferent expression on her face and what she says is spoken in a calm tone, but gojo still asks her if she’s mad at him. it’s likely that he knows her well enough to be able to notice these subtle things. even if she wasn’t actually mad at him, he was being considerate for a split second, then he went and said, “of course. i didn’t do anything wrong and all.” what a guy LOLOL. to me, this implies that maybe he made her genuinely angry in the past to the point where he realized that he went too far, and thus decided to be more careful of her feelings. she has definitely gotten annoyed at him so many times after that so whenever she seems angry, he probably asks himself if he took it too far. i’m curious to see if he can pick up if she’s upset with something that’s not involving him. would he console her? how does gojo satoru console someone?

despite him always annoying her, she’s still courteous and brings him a cup of tea during their talk. she didn’t have to go out of her way to get tea for him but she did. that’s the kind of person utahime is. a kind and caring woman who would never put her students in danger. in the anime they were sitting far away and not facing each other like they’re doing in the manga. she also has her own tea cup. i think that little panel of her placing the cup down on the table and him picking it up to take a sip is a nice little detail. it just proves that her hating him most of the time isn’t actually pure hatred but annoyance because of his shenanigans and teasing.

chapter 33

i touched upon this a little bit in my previous post, but i wish to go more in depth about this panel. first of all, he ends the sentence with her name twice. two times too many, mr. gojo. i like how they can be serious with each other too LOL. i wish we got to see them talk about the traitors because they did figure it out together after all. does it always end in bickering? can they interact with each other like adults all the way through? somehow, i feel like that’s not possible when it comes to these two. furthermore, notice how gojo confides in utahime about his suspicions. from what we know, she is the first person he brought it up to. i mean, i guess he has to start investigating the schools and would need extra assistance to save time, but he could have done it himself if he really wanted to. by deciding to ask for her help we know that he thinks she’s trustworthy, smart, and strong enough to face whatever considerable risks this task may entail.

i didn’t point this out in my other posts but see how he makes a hand sign in the last panel when she throws the cup at him? gojo is manually activating his infinity. why though? about a year after the whole star plasma vessel incident happened, gojo develops the ability to keep his infinity up at all times by using the reversed curse technique to consistently heal himself to prevent exhaustion. this means that it really makes no difference whether he leaves it on or off. there are a few times where we can witness someone actually touching gojo. for example, yuuji giving him a hug. did he turn his infinity off, or was it able to deduce that yuuji was not a threat? the erasers and pencils shoko and geto threw at him during his demonstration of his new ability aren’t dangerous normally, but is it the speed that makes them dangerous? even if it did hit him, it wouldn’t hurt. how does the infinity know when to allow an incoming object to touch gojo? i believe it is up to gojo himself to let things touch him; his infinity restricts anything and anyone. some people say it could just be the fact that water is not dangerous to him, so therefore, he has to manually put his infinity up. i thought this was a reasonable explanation as to why he put up the hand sign when the tea was thrown at him, but then i realized that it couldn’t be. remember the second opening? it’s raining and everyone is carrying an umbrella, then it pans to gojo with a bouquet in his hand and rain drops slipping off his infinity. if he DID manually put his infinity up to prevent getting soaked then that implies that he chose to turn his infinity off. you can argue and say that jujutsu high is a safe place with students so there’s no need to have his infinity there, but do you remember when he stepped on the ants in front of gakuganji and yaga? the ants were perfectly fine after which insinuates that his infinity prevented his shoes from crushing the ants. he most likely had his infinity on during the baseball game even though he was in a safe environment. how does this long tangent relate back to utahime? well, it simply indicates that gojo trusts utahime so much to the point where he can be vulnerable around her. turning off his infinity symbolizes completely letting down his guard in a way.

how about what happens next? utahime throws the tea at him, he turns on his infinity to deflect it, and he responds with, “scary! hysteric women aren’t popular, you know!” why would he even say that LMAO?? utahime doesn’t even try to deny what he said either. she just hits him with the good old, “i am your senpai!” could it be that he’s trying to poke fun of her relationship status? maybe, maybe not. doesn’t he like people a lil crazy? he did say that all jujutsu sorcerers have to be a little crazy because they’re willing to put themselves in danger constantly.

chapter 0 p.1

i wonder who he’s thinking of when he said that. could it be utahime? it seems like he’s reminiscing or thinking about someone. he wears an amused expression on his face as he laughs - almost like he’s seen his fair share of how scary women can get :>>

chapter 34

the pattern behind gojo and utahime is called yagasuri “fletching,” a traditional japanese design. this design is inspired by arrow fletching. it's a lucky charm for weddings and other celebrations since it's based on the Japanese belief that an arrow shot once never comes back. brides were given kimonos with this pattern for good luck during the edo era (1603–1868) to ensure they would not have to return to their original family home. this pattern can have numerous meanings such as steadfastness or determination to achieve a goal, or a wish for the happiness of the bride. there is a belief that a bow and arrow represent the fight against evil. honestly, this meaning fits the narrative of the story. utahime and gojo are unearthing the traitors that are feeding intel to the curse users and cursed spirits. they are in the middle while the kyoto students surround them, which could mean that it’s their job as adults to protect these children from the grasps of evil slowly making itself more prominent. do you also notice that the arrows are pointed toward utahime from gojo? from all the images i’ve seen, the arrows are usually pointed downward. what could this mean? is gojo trying to protect her (in the future (?)) or does he have a big fat crush smh...

i think it’s a good time to mention utahime’s clothing. she’s wearing miko attire. miko are shrine maidens who were once thought to be shamans (you connecting the dots?). in their service to shrines, miko used to perform spirit possession and takusen (in which the possessed person acts as a "medium" (yorimashi) to communicate the divine will or message of that kami (god) or spirit; also included in the category of takusen is "dream revelation" (mukoku), in which a kami appears in a dream to communicate its will). this was back in the old days, of course. to become a miko back then (shaman), one needed to have potential. neurosis, hallucinations, odd behavior, and hysteria (HYSTERIA HELLO???) are some of the signs that a person is being called to shamanism. when a miko is communicating with a kami (god) or spirit by acting as a medium, she is in a trance-like state, and so she must learn techniques to control herself when this happens. chanting and dancing were used to accomplish this, so the girl was taught melodies and intonations that were used in songs, prayers, and magical formulas. all of this could give us insight about utahime’s technique and explains why she’s good at singing :) maybe she can’t control herself when she uses her technique which is why she isn’t shown using it because it should be used for dire situations. i imagine being possessed by a spirit or god must consume a lot of cursed energy. it makes sense that utahime and gakuganji wear traditional clothing. they’re the staff of jujutsu high’s kyoto branch. in chapter 0, kyoto is known as the sacred land of jujutsu. it’s more traditional compared to tokyo. if you want to learn more about miko, you should check out the wikipedia page!

chapter 34

i swear he tries to annoy her every chance he gets. i bet he sets a goal for himself to see how many times utahime lectures him about respecting his seniors every time he’s within the same vicinity as her. at least he called her utahime-sensei!!!

chapter 40

this isn’t even a gojohime moment tbh...i just wanted to share a pic of them sitting next to each other HEHE. why are they sitting next to each other anyway? it’s not like they have assigned seating.

----

that was so long and i apologize for the gargantuan paragraphs you guys had to read through. i’m writing this at 4 in the morning and i’m feeling borderline delirious so i apologize if there are any errors. i’ll edit this when i have time <3

the next part should come shortly.

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime

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ultraericthered · 3 years

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Battler and Beato’s messed up relationship had a ton of ups and downs before it settled into something truly strong, healthy, mutual, and romantic. Their final showdown in EP4 was the epitome of how toxic they could get, and I think this part here is the most chilling moment, for Battler in particular. See, Ange had gotten Battler and Beato’s game back on hoping, rather naively, that the two of them would play it out to the finish in a way that she could understand and approve of - Battler using deep thought, comprehensive reading of other people, and a love and understanding of even his opponent in his fight for the humans side’s victory, and Beato arguing in favor of the miracle of true magic existing for the Witches side’s victory.

That’s...not how it ends up going. At this part, Beato has been skewered by all of the Blue Truths that Battler had thrown out to counter her mysteries and is just giving up on the fight, as she’d believed this to be a losing game even when going into it and had only been feigning her usual malice and madness as a “game face” conforming to Battler’s expectations. So she’s pleading with Battler, begging him to finish her off now, call final checkmate and let it end.

But Battler can see it clearly on her face that she’s not truly beaten, that she’s just folding and giving up to get out of this quick and easy. And rather than stop and try to think of why this might be, of what could possibly be getting Beato so down that she’d want to forfeit her victory like that, he simply demands that she continue to fight back. Giving such deep thought for Beato would require he regard her as her own individual, as a person...but in this moment, he doesn’t. Or rather, he doesn’t want to. Ange’s earlier demise only drove Battler’s raw emotions of hatred and rage towards Beato and the games she’s been having him play up to their maximum, to the point where he’s willfully disregarding all of his feelings for Beato and blocking out all evidence that breaks the image of her as merely a heartless, sadistic monster who toys with the lives of others and brutally murders them just for the fun of it under the delusion that this will make him a more effective player who can defeat Beato and end the game ASAP so that he can save his family and return to Ange. He is done “playing”, he is done thinking, and he’s done trying to achieve anything other than perfect victory against the Witch. His mind is consumed by a single methodology directed at Beato: deny, defeat, destroy. He now doesn’t just want to deny the existence of a Witch, he wants to deny Beato’s very existence as a thinking, feeling, breathing, living individual. He doesn’t aim to simply end her: he wants to break her. Being “given the victory” by Beato as she gave up would spoil that.

And yeah, at the very end the “without love, it cannot be seen” message rings true when Battler’s true feelings that he’d been so desperately supressing allows him to see her humanity after all and to see her true heart as she poses her final riddle, which he agrees to solve through continuing the games with her in Purgatorio rather than go back to his family - he ultimately makes the right choice that puts him on the right path, even if that path requires that he face the consequences of his mistakes head-on as the karmic pendulum swings in his direction. But the fact stands that by the end of Part 1, Battler had come nowhere close to solving all the mysteries and reaching the truth because he let his emotions run wild and knock him back on the same ol’ hot-tempered pig-headedness, pride, and desperation that made him embrace an approach that lacked love. Which is actually a key example of the truth he’d reach later: that Sayo Yasuda, as the Golden Witch Beatrice, was merely playing the part of his and his family’s torturer, while he actually was her torturer.

(Also, might I add that the manga is REALLY good at giving Battler some great evil looks. Black Battler exists for a reason, folks!)

#When They Cry #Umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #manga #Battler Ushiromiya #Beatrice #golden witch beatrice #sayo yasuda

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eyeless-cunt · 3 years

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taking advantage of the fact that the request are open haha, how would the creepypastas react if they killed their s/o accidentally? thnks love, much love 4 u

you woke up and and chose enternal suffering

TW: Death of the reader, blood, gore, angst, depressive thoughts, hintings of panic attacks, mentions of suicide,....necrophilia....?, mentions of pills, paranoia, delusions :), ect.

Jeffery:

I'm Honestly not even sure how he could have accidentally killed you? He never takes you with him when he goes out to...do his things. He certainly never raised a knife towards you and he would never kill you out of anger. So how did this even happen?

He blacked out. He was just sitting with you, laughing about nothing important. That's all he can remember. So where are you? And whose blood is he covered in right now? It's brown and crumbly, signiling that it's been a good few hours since he came into contact with it. Where are you? He wants to see you, ask what happened. He never even noticed he was holding a knife washed in blood until he stood up, the object falling from his loose hand. Did he kill someone? When? Where? Where's the body? Where are you? Is this a dream? Where are you? He turns in circles, looking for a body. Where are you? He smells that familair scent in the air--that smell that arises from the corpses he mutilates. Where are you? He peeks behind a close by tree, expecting to see a random stranger of whom may have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Where are you?

THERE YOU ARE

Wobbiling legs, vacant eyes, a shaky hand outstretched towards an all too familar body. Why are you here? What's wrong with you? Shaky breaths, his heart that seems to stop for a whole few seconds--and suddenly—all too suddenly, the realization of what he's done hits him so hard he loses the feeling in his legs, falling beside your weeping corpse as you stare him in the eyes, filling him with a sense of glorified dread. The emotions that his brain can't seem to comprehend are flooding in all at once and far too fast, crippiling him with something that escaped him the night he killed his family. How did this happen? Why? What? Confusion and horror seeps into his bones and shoots him down, peircing his lungs in a way that leaves him gasping for air that he just can't seem to hold onto.

Jane:

She was just too obsessed. She went too far without looking around at her surroundings. Her hunt for Jeffery pushed her too hard. Before she knew it, she was standing over a body that she shouldn’t have been. As soon as she did it, her spiked anger flushed out of her system, a cold bucket of realization and horror washing over her. Immediately, apologies spew out of her mouth from behind her mask. She hurt her s/o out of pure anger of which she didn’t try hard enough to control. She’s so sure that you’ve just been knocked unconscious—she’s positive that your bleeding head wound isn’t fatal. No, you’ll be fine. Huh? Where’s your pulse? What?

Her nerves flare up, horror spiking back up again; as if it never went down in the first place. She’s not a delusional idiot. She doesn’t try to shake you awake. She won’t call out for you, expecting a response. Jane doesn’t pray to a dead god in the hope that you’ll awaken and smile at her, saying that you forgive her. That you know it was an accident. That you still love her. No. What she does is bury your body. She reflects the blame onto someone else. Jeffery. You were arguing with her about her continuous hunt for him. You told her that you wanted her to stop—you wanted her to forget. Jeffery caused this. He was the subject of the argument. He’s taken yet another person from her.

BEN:

How did this happen to him? To you? He should have been more careful. He should have known this would happen sooner or later. He should have stayed away from you. Why was he like this? Of course this happened to him, to you; the person he loved most. It was fine. It was alright. You were having fun. He was so happy just to be able to spend time with you. Why would he let you put in the plug? So close to him? He naturally collects electricity. He knows that. So why would he let himself stand so close to you as you plugged in the controller.

A lapse in judgement. He forgot. He was too focused on the way you looked today. You had only woken up an hour ago, a messy appearance still making his dead heart race. That’s no excuse. How did this happen to him? He knows how. So why can’t he feel anything? Why can’t he move his limbs? Why does he feel worse now than he had when he was drowning at the bottom of a lake? Why is he feeling like that but also simultaneously feeling nothing at the same time? Did he break? Yeah. Staring down at this body, he starts to think he might have broke. He might have just died again. He wants to die again. Please let him die again.

EJ:

He was careful with you for years. He had to be. He could break a hand just by holding it so easily. He could lose to his cravings and sink his teeth into your neck at any time. He could rip your head off with no effort at all if he were to brush your hair with anything other than small, fleeting and gentle touches. So how did this happen? He’s always been so careful. His eating schedule always revolved around you. He would have to leave for a few days so he could eat away from you, so he usually held off on leaving for months if he could.

He knew he shouldn’t have. Spending more time with you at the cost of your own life wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t logical. If the hunger got too persistent he could go feral, accidentally killing you in the process. It wasn’t logical. He knew it wasn’t logical to stay with you longer if he was hungry. So why did he do it? How could he let this happen? The cold realization that he really did lose control hits him, the feeling in his limbs quickly leaving. Static. That’s all he could feel. Numb static. You’re everywhere. He wasn’t careful enough. He lost out to his feelings for the first time in hundreds of years. And you paid the price. It was his fault. It’s his fault. It’s his fault. HE DID THIS TO YOU.

He can’t function. The control he’s been holding over himself for a good thousand years breaks. He regresses back into what he was before he gained control. He no longer wants to have control if it leads to him falling in love with someone only to kill them later when he loses it again.

LJ:

He can’t even remember how this happened. The trauma blocking the horrible memories works fast. All he knows is that you’re leaking blood all over a table he doesn’t remember being here yesterday. All he knows is that you’re dead and he did this. He did this. No. No he didn’t. He didn’t. He wouldn’t. He would never hurt you. Who did this? He didn’t. Events take a morbid turn when his abandonment issues take a turn for the worse.

He won’t let the body go. Your body. He won’t let you leave him. So he holds you forever, just like he promised you he would when you first met all those years ago. He holds you through the decomposition process, he holds you until you’re only scattered bones. He holds you until your bones are dust and you’ve been gone longer than he can remember. He says to not worry. He likes holding you. He’ll hold you like this forever. Don’t worry. He’s sure you were so scared. Don’t worry. He’s got you. Don’t worry.

Masky:

He ran out of pills at the worst possible time. The paranoia hit him all at once, making him tape the windows and glue them shut, block the door, place a camera in all the doorways. He keeps seeing things. He keeps seeing the tall man in the darkest corner of his room. He needs more pills. But he can’t leave or the tall man will get him. He’s sure of it.

You just chose the wrong time to come over. You couldn’t have known. He didn’t even realize it was you. It was so dark. The pipe in his hand was slick with sweat. All too suddenly you’re on the floor bleeding out and his chest is heaving, air seemingly desperate to avoid him. The lights get turned on. Huh? Why are you—why? Why are you on the floor? Where is that blood coming from...? Like coffee to a drunk person, the sight of your bleeding out form sobers him—paranoia and hallucinatory visions seeping out of his veins. An almost unparalleled confusion makes him back away from you, making him trip over his steps. He can’t grasp what’s exactly happening at the moment. It takes him a few minutes to realize that his s/o is indeed bleeding out on his floor—and by then it’s far too late. He’s incompetent. His incompetency was the cause of your death. His cowardice. He was so weak it ended your life. That’s how he sees it.

Hoodie:

He can’t even believe he let you get into this situation with him. He was supposed to protect you. He was supposed to be strong enough—stable enough, to protect you. He was supposed to be able to keep his sanity so that he could keep you safe. He took his pills. He stayed away from the woods when he was with you. He stayed in public places with you, and never met at night. He always had a tape recording—so how did it go so wrong? He tried so hard. He tried so fucking hard to keep you safe. So fucking hard.

He thought it was okay to take a short walk with you. You weren’t even close to the woods, it was still a semi-public place. No one was out, and while that made him uneasy, he didn’t question it. He should have. He should have grabbed your hand and taken you to fucking McDonalds or some shit. Maybe a nice stroll through Walmart. Just not here. Not alone and outside. He put you in this situation. It was his fault. He didn’t mean it. He’s never been angrier in his whole existence. He doesn’t worry, he doesn’t fear. Hoodie isn’t scared of anything. But looking down at a corpse that once belonged to you, he finds that he does indeed fear one thing. The end of your life.

Toby:

As far as he’s concerned you never died. What? What do you mean you’re holding a funeral? For who? What? What do you mean? My significant other is sitting right beside me? Is this a joke? It’s not very funny. Can you please stop calling me delusional? Hallucinating? What the fuck are you on? Do you want me set you on fire?

No. You never died. In fact, he’s looking at your smiling face right now. You’re like the sun. So bright it hurts, but so pretty. You’re telling him about your day, although he finds it odd that you’re talking about work again even though you’ve been sitting in this field with him all day. You’re a bit inconsistent and confused these days, but that’s okay. We’ll get through it together. Just like we always have. You promised, remember? Together forever, even through death. <3

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