#* character study: { innocence died screaming }

[blufblucake]

OMG OMG OMG what a cliffhanger, I NEED new chapter so bad right now I love this fic so much AAAGHHH btw is there a reason why Sergeant Smith asked a favor that wants us changed clothes there???? Am I too suspicious about this or its really for future events or its just causal thing? I love Prowl doesnt talk at all lmao I KNOW he is looking handsome despite cold and intense damn I cant wait what happens after coming fight and how he will navigate the reveal to reader 👀 poor coffees and croissant inside him as well

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Accidentally In Love | Chapter Two

Paring: Prowl x GN!Human!Reader.

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine.

Warnings: Some robot-on-robot violence, but nothing too serious.

Word Count: 2,8k

Previous chapter

Author's notes: Wow, I didn't expect this fanfic to get such a warm reception haha, I'm really happy! There's no specific reason for him asking the reader to wear the uniform only while on duty, but maybe he's an important character for the future. And yes, poor croissants and coffee.

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Chapter Two

Prowl’s attention was torn between you and the Decepticon ahead. He didn’t know who you were, or why you had gotten into him that morning... Damn, why had you gotten into that damn car? When he heard the call over the radio, he knew there was no time to throw you out. The Autobots had been monitoring that warehouse for days, and that fire was far too suspicious, clearly linked to the Decepticons.

Barricade didn’t seem to be in any hurry. The mocking smirk on his faceplate gave away how much he was enjoying Prowl’s irritation. “I see you’ve been playing cop. Even made a little friend... Or are they more like a pet?” his voice dripped with disdain, and his red optics locked onto you with chilling coldness. Prowl carefully stepped sideways, trying to block you from the Decepticon’s view. You looked so terrified, eyes wide with fear, that for a split second, he almost regretted dragging you into that situation. You had no clue about the alien mess unraveling on your planet.

Your gaze jumped from one robot to the other, too shocked to react. It was as if your body had frozen, you stayed seated on the grimy roadside, unable to move, not even to reach for the pistol holstered at your waist. You noticed the cold, almost predatory stare of the other mech and felt oddly grateful for your bot’s, your former car’s, useless attempt to shield you.

With a flicker of courage, you stood up, eyes locked on the evil one. The way he stared at you was so strange and intense, it reminded you of a Weeping Angel — you were sure if you blinked, he’d attack. Meanwhile, Prowl’s processor nearly overheated trying to find a way out without a fight — which he knew was nearly impossible — and without putting you in direct danger. He had to keep you alive. Security cameras at the police station likely caught you entering his car. If he returned without you, it would raise questions, jeopardizing both his cover and the Autobots’ secret. If he kept you alive, he could figure out how to silence you later. And if, in the worst case, you died… He’d need a new alt mode, a new holomatter avatar, and a new infiltration plan. Honestly, he didn’t want that. Your death would waste weeks of careful work. “I’m doing my duty, protecting the innocent,” Prowl replied firmly, shifting into a defensive stance as Barricade continued studying you.

When his gaze returned to Prowl, the Decepticon nearly rolled his red optics, exasperated by all the morality. “Still following orders? Such a good soldier,” he sneered, then laughed dryly. “You never had the spark to think for yourself.” Prowl allowed himself a tight smile, masking the tension. “You mistake loyalty for weakness. That’s why you lose every time we meet.”

Barricade lunged forward, a sudden feint that forced Prowl into an offensive stance. The Decepticon burst into loud laughter and suddenly charged, one arm transformed into a blade. You screamed and turned to run in the opposite direction, no way you were sticking around for a Pacific Rim-style brawl. “You still believe in all that nonsense about order and justice?” Barricade spat, swinging viciously. “Look around, Prowl! Cybertron fell because of that, and now here we are, rotting in some cosmic dump.” Prowl blocked the strike.“Cybertron fell because of your thirst for power. You never fought for freedom.”A powerful kick from Prowl knocked Barricade back a few meters. The Decepticon’s grin was unsettling.

“We fought for freedom. You for submission, dressed up as goodness.” He advanced again, launching a rapid series of strikes.“Freedom to destroy, dominate, and corrupt? That’s not freedom, it’s anarchy. Tyranny!”You kept running until your chest burned and your legs gave out. You collapsed, trembling. Looking back, you saw your bot had been knocked down. There was nowhere to run, no place to hide.You’d never been religious. Church had been a childhood obligation. But in that moment, all you could do was pray. Pray to any god or higher force watching over you, hoping your bot would win and you’d live to see another day.

“Funny... You’re known for your amazing precision. But today, you seem distracted.” Barricade taunted, walking toward Prowl’s fallen frame. He swung his blade toward Prowl’s helm, but the Autobot dodged with ease and sprang to his feet, counterattacking. “You hide behind chaos because you’re afraid of what’s constant. You’re a coward.” Prowl smirked as his weapon pierced the other mech’s shoulder, drawing a sharp hiss of pain. “You talk like a hero, Prowl,” Barricade growled. “But the truth is, you’re just an obedient little cog. A hypocrite. Does that little thing over there know how many have died because of you? How much energon stains your hands?”

He pointed at you before attacking again.Prowl clenched his jaw, venting hard through his denta.“You talk too much! Trying to distract me, or compensate for something? Maybe size-related?”You watched the fight wide-eyed, darting from side to side, because wherever you hid, the battle followed. Not that you hadn’t tried to help, at one point, you pulled your gun and shot at the bad guy, but it was useless. Your human bullets didn’t even scratch him, he didn’t even flinch.Eventually, your bot managed to knock the Decepticon down — dangerously close to you. He was ready to finish it. But in a sudden motion, the bad mech reached out, grabbed you tightly by the torso, and lifted you up like a human shield, rising to his feet with a sinister smile. “You want your sack of meat? Then here, catch!”

Before you could even scream properly, he threw you. All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and shout a blur of apologies and desperate pleas to whatever deity might be listening. Prowl knew it was a distraction. He knew the Decepticon wanted to escape. Still, he couldn’t let you die. He spun and lunged for you, sliding painfully across the ground. With arms outstretched, he caught you just in time, before you hit the earth. The impact still hurt, but it was nothing compared to what would’ve happened if you had slammed into the ground.

Cradling you in both servos, Prowl stood up. When he turned, Barricade was already gone. The Autobot let out a frustrated sound and looked down at your limp figure lying across his palm. Your eyes were wide, your tiny hands gripping his digits. He could feel your racing pulse — your fragile spark. Your breathing was shallow and erratic. “Y’know… I never believed in that stuff…” you murmured slowly, voice shaking. “But you… You have horns. Two red horns…” you pointed to his chevron, and he gave you a confused look. “I think… I think you’re my guardian demon.” those were your last words before you passed out.

When you wake up, you have no idea where you are or what time it is. You felt very cold, so much so that you curled your body into a fetal position, and with your eyes closed, you tried to recap your bizarre dream about police cars turning into giant robots. "Finally awake?" the grumpy, familiar voice makes you open your eyes suddenly, and you sit up abruptly, looking around and realizing you're back inside the patrol car. The windows were so dark you couldn't tell what time of day it was, and when your gaze landed on the driver's seat, you noticed there was no one behind the wheel. You cover your mouth with a hand to stifle a scream and look for the source of the voice, noticing that the strange symbol in the center of the steering wheel glowed when it spoke. "You were unconscious for quite a while. I don’t know much about your species, but I don’t think there’s anything seriously wrong with you."

"Who are you? Am I hallucinating? Did I die and this is purgatory?" you let out a long, shocked sigh and grab the headrests in front of you, leaning your body forward. "Am I in a coma and you're my subconscious?" if he had been in his bipedal form, Prowl definitely would have rolled his optics. "You're not hallucinating, you're not in a coma, and you're not dead. I'm definitely not your subconscious, and you’re not in purgatory, whatever that means... Maybe there is something wrong with you..." he mutters the last part so low that you barely catch it. Your expression remains confused as you twist between the seats and clumsily drop into the passenger seat. "My designation is Prowl. For now, that’s all you need to know. I'm taking you somewhere, we need to make sure you’re trustworthy."

You stare at the symbol on the steering wheel and tilt your head doubtfully. " ‘We'? As in plural? You're my patrol car that turned into a giant robot and fought the other evil robot. Are there more of you?" you definitely weren’t going to argue with him, he had saved your life and seemed safe. So you simply buckle your seatbelt and try to observe the road through the darkened windows.

The trip is long and tedious, as every time you tried to talk or touch something, he silenced you. When you finally arrive, you only realize the scale of the place once you’re inside and he transforms, holding you in his large servos with surprising delicacy for something of that size. Looking around, you notice that the place is enormous, clearly built for others like him, and not at all human-friendly. Your curious eyes scan every corner, spotting other giant metal beings who gradually stop what they’re doing when they notice your presence, all clearly very surprised. And the longer you stayed, the more of them appeared, as if word had spread about the human visitor and they came to check it out themselves.

As Prowl carries you through the base, you can hear whispers. With a shy smile and a quick wave, you try to greet everyone, hoping to make a good impression. As if worrying about what other humans thought of you wasn’t enough, now you were worried about what robots thought of you. A yellow one, slightly smaller than the others, approaches more closely as if in disbelief, pushing past the others in his way. His voice sounds excited. "That’s amazing!"

After passing through a few corridors, you arrive at a room, and Prowl sets you down on a gigantic table. Everything in this place was huge. You fidget with your fingers nervously while glancing around. The mech had told you he’d take you to meet his leader, Optimus Prime. A noise at the door catches your attention, and when you turn, you see a robot much larger than all the others entering the room. His expression is covered by a sort of mask, but the way he walks radiates confidence. This was definitely the leader.

You clear your throat, and as he approaches, you offer your best smile and extend your hand as a greeting. "Nice to meet you! You must be Mr. Optimus Prime, right?" pathetic. You felt pathetic at that moment, smiling broadly and extending your hand to a being many times larger than you. Why were you even doing this? Was it because you trusted them or because you were afraid they might hurt you? Defying your expectations, the red-and-blue mech extends his arm and gently clasps your entire hand with just two digits, shaking it up and down with incredible care. "The pleasure is all mine."

You exhale in relief, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding. He moves back and sits in a chair in front of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Prowl also sitting down, so, without much choice, you kneel and sit on your legs. Optimus begins "I’m sorry for how things unfolded and how we met. I imagine it was difficult coming here with so little information, but I instructed Prowl to handle it this way so that I could be the one to explain everything." you simply nod and let the leader continue.

And he tells you everything in detail, allowing you to ask many questions and answering every single one. You learn about his people’s war and ideological differences, even though some things were so far removed from your reality they were hard to picture. You understand who the other Cybertronian who attacked you and Prowl was, and also the importance of trying to defend your planet. Even though you were small and basically harmless to these mechs, you understood why they had to be cautious about keeping you under their watch. They needed to stay hidden, and you knew what humans were capable of if they ever discovered them.

And to maintain the disguise, you and Prowl would continue working together in the police force. He would be your guardian to protect you, since now that the Decepticons knew about you — and knew that you knew about them — you were a target. He would also keep his optics on you to ensure your silence. You would help the Autobots, even if only with minor things. Maybe having a human ally would make it easier to access certain places and resources, and you sympathized with their cause.

So you and Prowl returned to the police station. Inside the car, a heavy silence prevailed. On that stretch of road, so deserted, the mech hadn’t bothered to generate an avatar. You adjusted yourself in the passenger seat and reached for the rearview mirror, tilting it slightly toward you. It returned to its position automatically, and you sighed. Then, you tried to open the glove compartment, but the door shut harshly. You reached for the window button, but it only rolled down halfway before closing again. "You’re so boring! I can’t talk, I can’t open the window..." Prowl made a sound like a sigh before speaking. "I don’t know if this is clear to you, but you’re inside me, understand?" crossing your arms, you leaned against the door and rested your head on the window glass. "And inside me, there are some rules. First: keep those little hands to yourself. No touching. Second: don’t bring your human fuel inside me. That liquid you brought earlier messed up my entire interior, it was a nightmare to clean." He continued listing some rules, but at some point, you just tuned him out, tired of the lecture. Through the dark windows, you strained your eyes and spotted a gas station in the distance. "Alright, Mr. Policeman. Pull over at that station, please?"

"What? No. I’m not stopping. We need to get back before it gets dark." You let out a long sigh and put your hands together like you were begging. "Prowl, please. I need to use the bathroom. If you don’t stop, I’m going to pee on your leather seats, and it won’t be my fault." With those words, he started to slow down. When he reached the station, he pulled in and parked, telling you to hurry. You got out and ran toward the only restroom available. It wasn’t a hotel bathroom or even remotely clean, but you managed to relieve yourself while trying to touch as little as possible. When you finished, you decided to stop by the convenience store and buy a bottle of water.

The teenage girl at the counter wore huge pink star-shaped earrings and dramatic makeup for someone her age. Tacky, that was your first thought. You stared at each other for a moment, her chewing gum and looking at you with a bored expression. You handed her the bottle to scan. "Anything else?" the girl asked with a yawn that let you see her gum covered in saliva. Disgusted, you turned your gaze to a display of cheap sunglasses on the counter, picked one, and handed it to her. "That’s all, thanks."

Prowl saw you coming out of the store wearing the sunglasses and carrying the water bottle. He barely gave you time to get in before complaining. "What did I say about bringing fuel into my interior?" you exhaled and closed the bottle, setting it in the cup holder. "It’s just water. Can you roll down the window, please?" he waited a few seconds and, silently, lowered the window before pulling back onto the road.

A few minutes passed in complete silence, but Prowl’s calm didn’t last long, because soon you opened your mouth again. "Can you play some music? You know, just to break the ice." He thought for a moment, you could be as chatty as Bluestreak, but your awkward joke attempts reminded him of Jazz. "Which one?" he asked, and you gave him a wide grin, telling him the name of the song you wanted. When the beat started, you swayed your head side to side and rested your arm on the open window, the wind playing with your hair as you sang "Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?"

[dreamedfyre-a]

sometimes i think about how helaena would invariably be 🧐 at any bride aemond might have. like she doesn't need to have feelings for him or to be romantically involved with him at all (if they are it's on sight i'm afraid), helaena will scrutinize the poor girls and it won't be easy to pass the vibe check

[dreamedfyre-a]

@sunfyred @ironf0rged

the borgias (2011-2013) cr. neil jordan / bojack horseman (2014-2020) cr. raphael bob-waksberg ↬ insp.

[joaniscruzing]

reuniting with jinx <3

everyone... that was quite the rollercoaster. but, i choose to believe that jinx is alive. i'm not ready to let go of arcane for a good while, and I'll do my best to upload fics more often, especially with the holiday breaks coming up too, so reel in whatever arcane requests you have! i write for vi, caitlyn, and jinx. i do take smut requests for these characters too if you guys would like to request some...

obviously though, jinx wouldn't leave without finding her amazing gf though... right??

summary: jinx surprises you while you're grieving, and you both escape and go elsewhere.

warnings: angst at the beginning, season 2 act 3 spoilers, kissing, emotional, lots and lots of fluff, I PROMISED A HAPPY ENDING AND DELIVERED

you couldn't believe it. your whole body crumbled to the ground as vi told you the devastating news.

"I'll tell you one thing," vi tried to quip, a small smile on her face, "she went out with a bang."

vi explained that she heard an explosion sound when jinx fell down the vent, and how she guessed she had set off one more bomb. you take vi close to you, hugging her tightly.

"she really did love you, you know." vi admitted, "i think she's just had a lot come her way. and i can't say I'm the most innocent in that realm myself."

you left vi to continue staring at the fireplace, about to leave and go to jinx's workshop, hoping to take a few things to remember her by. you see caitlyn looking at the vent diagram, studying it closely. how could she possibly studying the place where your beloved girlfriend died? you knew that caitlyn had grown to not hate jinx anymore, so you decided to just leave it at that.

after leaving the kiramann mansion, you traversed back to zaun, thoughts racing through your head. had you not done enough? loved her enough? given her a reason to live? you wanted to scream as loudly as you could, and let whatever you were feeling out.

you finally made it to where jinx had her things, and you took a deep breath before entering. this was it.

the once lit-up place was darker and worn-out in her eyes. the once neon, bright-colored place seemed to be dark and empty now. like you without jinx. a tear rolled down your face as you picked up small tools and things, even parts of a flower she was making for you out of scraps. you sat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, trying to make sense in your head of what you should do next.

"did you really think i was gone, hun?" jinx questions, right behind you. your entire body leaps at the sound of her voice. it can't be.

"jinx?" you ask, shooting your head up and turning around.

"did you really think i was gonna die that easily? now stop moping. we have to get on the hot air balloon."

shocked, you hug jinx quickly before shoving one thing you collected in your pocket. you both start running. hand in hand, you make a beeline in order to get on the next hot air balloon.

"you know what i realized? things aren't so great here, so why don't i just go somewhere else to do my thing? but, i knew i couldn't leave without you." jinx explains while running.

"how did you even get out?" is the only thing you manage to say.

"my shimmer, silly! i got the hell out and escaped through the air vents."

"and how did you get back to zaun?"

"simple hacking and tweaking of the hexgates. nothing special."

you both finally make it onto the airship, jinx holding your hand as you get on so you don't fall. she closes the door behind you.

"so. this is it. any last wishes before we leave forever?"

"my biggest one has been granted," you answer before pulling in jinx for a sweet kiss. you had missed her, as you hadn't seen her for a week or two with everything going on. jinx pulls away, explaining that you two had to go.

"you know, i've always wanted to drive one of these," jinx admits, steering the ship, "i have since i was very young." you notice a new sense of peace in her eyes as she drives the ship. she doesn't seem so... tortured anymore. in fact, she seems free of any past issues.

her newly cut hair blows in the wind, as you go up behind her and hug her waist, your head resting on her shoulder. no matter what the future held, you knew you were going to be happy. as long as jinx was there, you would be at peace.

"i love you," jinx says softly, taking one hand off the wheel to rest on top of yours.

"i love you too."

[suykari]

Who would have thought that losing control of the situation would be so pleasant? sub!salesman x dom!reader Nonsense written at 4 a.m. (I really should start studying for exams…) English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes (a third of the text is literally translated through Google translator). If you find any mistake, please tell me. I haven't really figured out how to make a beautiful post here, so yes. Warnings: gun sex, foot fetish, sub!salesman, dom!reader, "***" is used instead of "y/n", salesman's name is Gong Yu because, why not, an alleged deviation from the character of the canonical characters. I doubt that anyone from the eng community will switch, but here is my telegram channel, where I try (or will try) to post any headcounts, spillovers about future updates.

Ideal. One word that could describe Gong Yu. The perfect employee, the perfect recruiter, the perfect husband, the perfect everything. He is always dressed to the nines, with perfectly styled hair and with a perfect strained smile. The devil in the flesh.

Every day is like another day. He wakes up, goes to the shower, does morning exercises, has breakfast and goes to work, returns home, takes an evening shower and goes to bed in his expensive silk pajamas, kindly given to him by his beloved wife. The Korean Patrick Bateman.

With all his appearance, this man shows the absence of fears, conscience, feelings and other human flaws. Who would have thought that someone like him could have weaknesses?

After straightening his jacket after another game of dacji, the salesman left the subway underpass. It was getting dark. Drunks started coming out of bars and pubs. Perhaps if it hadn't been for fatigue (yes, surprisingly, he felt it), he would have offered to play with them, but besides fatigue, the man's sixth sense screamed at him about something, but about what specifically, he didn't understand.

Taking his phone out of his pants pocket, Gonyu quickly unlocked it and moved away from the aisle. 22:45 was the time on the screen.

"*attachment* look how beautiful it is."

            18:55

"but the most beautiful thing is underneath it ^^"

            18:55

"How much longer do you need? You said you'd come early today, remember?"

            19:38

« :( »

            20:40

"Have you forgotten?"

            21:05

Fuck. Literally running out to the road, the recruiter stopped the first car he saw and, in a hurry, straightened the stray strands and growled the address. As soon as the taxi started moving, the man took a deep breath and looked at his phone again. It's almost ten minutes to eleven, and at best he'll get home by about eleven–thirty, which doesn't change much, because the fact remains that he's late.

He could be a self-satisfied narcissist, he could be a murderer whose hands were stained with blood dozens or even hundreds of times, he could be a scoundrel innocently sending people to certain death, and then calmly fall asleep as if nothing had happened, dreaming before going to bed about the next torture of a new unhappy soul, but he would never allow himself to let his wife down, to make his woman wait for him more than she should, condemning the unfortunate lady to torment and doubt in her soul about his loyalty to her. - I'll pay you twice if you take me earlier than half of the next hour, – he said in a slightly trembling voice, which in general no one would have noticed even if they had wanted to, the only one who paid attention to this with horror to himself was the man himself. – in triplets if earlier than twenty minutes.

The driver just grinned slightly and accelerated. The salesman hated it when something didn't go the way he wanted, hated it when something didn't obey his will, his blood boiled just at the thought that something would get out of his control. Often, when something like this happened, someone died, and God knows, this drunk (and Gon was more than sure that he was) would not reach the house alive if he arrived later than the designated time.

Time passed for a long time, the brunette kept glancing at his wristwatch, but it didn't go any faster, and it didn't give the car much speed. Turn, turn, turn again, traffic light. And so on a few more times. At some point, the car stopped at a multi-storey building. Gong Yu anxiously looked at the time - 23:19. "That'll be 1,080,000 won, mister (75,600 rubles)," the taxi driver smirked as he turned to the passenger. In response, the salesman took out a million and a hundred thousand won from his suitcase and threw them at the elder, jumped out of the car, shouting at the last "no change needed."

The man almost tore the entrance door off its hinges, opening the front door abruptly and with such a wide swing that the handle from the street side hit the wall, which generally happened involuntarily. He walked briskly, but without losing confidence, into the elevator wing and leaned against one of its walls. Exhaling heavily, throwing his head up, trembling slightly, the recruiter turned his head towards the mirror. He didn't look his best: his hair was disheveled, his jacket was open, his hands were shaking, and there was a crazy, almost desperate gleam in his eyes. Abruptly straightening up, he leaned closer to the mirror, as if blocking the camera's view of himself, he wiped the light sweat from his forehead, straightened his jacket, pulled back the mask of hypocritical decency, went out into the vestibule, groped for the keys. After standing in front of the door for a couple of seconds, Gong Yu thought about his next actions for a couple of minutes. What would he tell her? What are we going to do when he sees her tear-stained face? Will I be able to leave today about the scandal about his strange job? About his confusing schedule? Will it be possible to just get off with sex today, like before? Exhaling (for the umpteenth time that evening, in the shortest possible time in his life), the recruiter opened the door with his key and listened. The house was quiet, except for the soft murmur of water and the sound of dishes in the kitchen. Gon quietly took off his expensive shoes and left them in the hallway and followed the sound. It's just as he expected: at the sink, standing *** and washing dishes, probably in the same dress, the photo of which she probably sent him in the evening. The kitchen smelled of baked chicken and wax. Looking back at the table, he saw a cold dinner, a bottle of expensive red wine, a table set for 2 people and 3 completely burnt out white candles. A pang of guilt immediately pierced his heart and, quickly approaching his wife, the recruiter hugged her from behind as gently as possible, burying his head in the top of her head. The girl froze for a split second, her hands stopped shuffling the dishes, and the sponge fell into the soap suds. A moment later, she twisted out of his arms, and rinsed her hands and wiped them on his jacket.

"Dinner's on the table, I hope you'll think to warm it up." – her once gentle gaze was replaced by a cold one (the same as dinner), full of disappointment and unspoken dissatisfaction. After briefly lingering on his face full of shock and regret, *** proudly turned towards their shared bedroom. - ***, wait!  He tried to grab her arm, but she darted away from him. – Dear, let me explain everything!

"I've already figured it out. I don't want to hear your next excuses, Gong Yu – she quickly went up to the second floor and ran into their bedroom, but she didn't close the door. Without wasting any time, the salesman rushed after her, all wet and annoyed. Without letting her close the door with her hand, he began to move towards the girl, looming over her with a menacing figure. Feeling his blood boil in his veins with rage, he slowly walked towards her, forcing her to shrink into the chest of drawers.

- I understand that you're angry, honey – like a tiger approaching its prey, he got closer and closer with every step until finally he completely pressed her in – but you didn't even let me explain – leaning over her neck, the man continued his tirade, scorching his wife's shoulder with hot breath – I understand I'm sorry, I made you wait, I made your sweet little head come up with all sorts of nightmares and doubts, I'm sorry – he gently bit her neck – but you understand me too… I'm tired, I've been working all day. – The salesman looked into her still empty eyes and with genuine disappointment returned back to her neck, bit her hard, growled – don't forget, after all, on whose money you live, my love.

For the most part, that was how their every argument went.  Gong Yoo-in forgot something, didn't finish something, she tried to take offense at him, then in the evening they locked themselves in the bedroom and fucked until dawn. Recurt was ninety-nine percent sure that this time everything would happen exactly the same, when suddenly something cold and suspiciously familiar was pressed against his cheek. With growing horror, he tried to turn to the object to his left, but it didn't work out well. - Shut up - *** pressed the gun harder against his cheekbone – from this second on, you won't say a word until I let you – she grabbed the right side of his face with her free hand and roughly turned it towards her – do you understand?  The salesman had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at his wife in shock and tried to think of ways out of the situation.  – I'm asking you – a slap in the face, like a bolt from the blue, shattered the silence. The man opened his mouth, not expecting such an act from his once gentle wife. He nodded, still keeping silent, "words, honey."

- Yes… I realized that he had noticed with horror that this position aroused him.

The girl pushed him away from her, and pointed the gun somewhere at his chest.

"How the fuck do you dare come into this apartment after what you've done?"  She slapped him again, but on the other cheek. "on your knees, bitch."

The recruiter hesitantly lowered himself on trembling legs and leaned on his hands in front of him. ** I walked past him and sat on the bed. Giving a silent command: "crawl." Interesting fact: after a few years of married life, people tend to understand each other without words. In confirmation of this, we have a beautiful specimen – Gong Yu, who, despite all his pride, hesitated for only a couple of seconds (an unacceptably short period for a man like him), turned around and crawled to his beloved. - just look at how quickly we switched places – she smiled smugly and stretched her leg to his head and lifted his chin with her toe - what would your colleagues say when they saw you in this position? - The salesman  realized with horror how he looked from the outside and involuntarily remembered his superiors: about the other recruiters, about the guards in the triangular ones, about the frontman. But after a quick search of colleagues, another, more frightening thought returned. Did she guess? Did you find out what he does? But how? So many years of manipulation and concealment of information, so that now, during another minor (specifically for him) quarrel, would it really be like this, without his knowledge, his only and beloved wife found out about his "dirty deeds"? The man's face paled and he looked at her in surprise–you should have seen your face, you pompous bastard. – *** I poked his lips with my foot. – you know, sometimes I think that I'm wasting my time on you. I try, I try to please you, I choose a pretty enough dress, no less sexy lingerie, I put up with all your strange, painful fetishes, and how do you respond to me?  All the while, she was massaging his lips and cheeks with her foot. It still turned him on like hell – you're giving me a hard time, you haven't even read my messages – she abruptly sat up, leaned on her knees and brought the muzzle of a pistol to the place where his leg had been recently – with all my efforts, maybe I should treat you like a kept woman – she's a little She pressed the weapon on her husband's lower lip – suck. The salesman, looking at her face with some embarrassment but a certain amount of excitement, smiled psychopathically and opened his mouth, still without breaking eye contact, swallowed the muzzle halfway. The point of no return has already been passed. A part of him tried to resist it, because he himself, Gong Yu, a man who makes some people shudder, a man who decides people's destinies, an ideal man who always has everything under control, is now on his knees in front of a woman who humiliates him. But the other part enjoyed this loss of control, this play of power and the sudden revelation of his angel by the dominant. The taste of gunpowder settled on his tongue, metal hit his teeth, cold alloy slid into his mouth, adrenaline was pumping.

With unhurried movements, the man moved his head up and down, slightly closing his eyes, feeling his penis itch and rub against the fabric of his trousers.

"Oh, my God… Maybe you were made for this job?  She grinned and pushed the revolver deeper into his throat, enjoying his surprised look–what happened to his face? Did I say something wrong?  He choked on it. Distinctive sounds filled the room. Tears welled up in the eyes of the salesman, his head was spinning from the unspoken questions. – it's a pity I don't have a dick – the gun went into my cheek – such a nice mouth, but I don't have the opportunity to feel it – *** exaggeratedly, sadly, sighed and suddenly hit the man on the cheek – look at the interlocutor, this is not polite - the revolver returned to its native place, deeper into the man's throat. If Gong Yu had ever been told that he would kneel in front of someone, especially a woman, he would have laughed heartily. But now he was clearly not laughing – his face was flushed, his perfect hairstyle had turned into hell, tears were streaming down his red cheeks, his jaw was starting to ache and ache, as were his knees from an unusual position.

Heavy breathing and soft moans, which grew louder and louder with each swallow, were heavenly delight. It's not every day that you see the ego of a pompous salesman break, as with every movement of your hand, his lower lip trembles more and more, as his hips involuntarily twitch with pleasure, denied by himself, with each new slap and stinging phrase.

The girl got up closer to the brunette and gently stroked his hair with a gentle movement of her hand. As soon as the bleary eyes looked up at her, she grinned and, squeezing her strands, pushed Gon deeper into the muzzle until it would have been physically impossible to swallow deeper even if she had wanted to, until the recruiter's lips poked into the part of her hand with her finger on the trigger, and then "took off" the revolver with a characteristic slap. Now, the only thing that reminded of contact with the gun was just a trickle of saliva connecting the lip to the front sight, which quickly burst, dripping obscenely onto the expensive carpet. "You should see yourself now," she quickly grabbed her phone from the bed and opened the camera to take a picture of her husband. Turning the screen to her "model," she continued – look, it's amazing how with such abilities you don't work as a porn star or a stripper –giggled and threw the samsung back – although... who knows – she grabbed his tie and pulled it on, almost choking, forced the salesman to bury his face in her thighs – you told me you're not telling me anything– again, the fake mask pulled over her face – maybe you want to tell me now. Your mistress lets you talk," she kicked him in the groin. A throaty groan escaped Gong Yu and he unconsciously leaned forward to meet the touch.

"I... don't understand what y-you're talking about, honey–an unsuccessful attempt to regain control by pulling on a smug smile and a playful sparkle, covered with a copper basin of another blow to his crotch and a new moan.

"Really?"  She continued to run her sock along its length in a circular motion. Should I tell you myself? Are you saying that I was told the truth?

It was useless to count the number of times the elder's face was distorted into seemingly impossible grimaces for him. In five seconds, it changed from the ecstasy of primal emotions and the pursuit of high to confusion: her eyes widened, her mouth opened slightly, but not to moan, her hands trembled behind her back and reached for her waist. What exactly was she told about? By how much? He tried to get his brain to work, but all his thoughts were occupied by the feeling of his wife's foot rubbing against his clothed penis. "Y-dear," he tried to move away from her a little to look into her eyes from a more comfortable angle and stretch his neck. The salesman  was desperately trying to find at least some words, to collect the remaining pieces of his mind, but there was nothing in his head. His strong hands slid over her thighs, slightly squeezing from the mix of emotions – I'm sorry, I can explain everything – tears of despair were about to spill, but they were easily brushed away by the contrasting soft movement of the girl's hand.

- Well, well, why are you so…  Take your time, we've been through so much together, I'll understand everything – the next movement on his crotch became the final one in an incomprehensible dance – the foot stopped on the head and pressed hard. Her piercing gaze drilled holes in him and her palm gently hugged his cheek, to which the man almost instantly buried himself in her – I'm your wife, after all.

A plaintive whine from the cessation of friction and tossing from one sensation to another escaped Gong Yu. The phrase "I'm sorry" was repeated over and over, over and over again, like a mantra, like a prayer to the deity at the icon in the temple. What a blasphemous but clear comparison: a gibbering man on his knees, as in confession, vows to change, if not for the modern apartment environment, it would be easy to think that the actions of the narrative take place in a church. Convulsive efforts to plan their next actions were overlaid with a red cross by the lack of discharge of increasing arousal and the suffocating atmosphere of sex hovering in the room. - I've never seen you like this – attention to the penis returned along with the movement, but this time the "circle" changed to "up, down" - do you want to cum?

The recruiter was going crazy (although it seemed much more?). He howled and pressed his face into her thighs and nodded his head vigorously. The mixture of "yes," "please," and "I'm sorry" was pronounced by him more and more often, and the tremor spread back through his entire body.

- Do you remember the words honey? I gave you permission to speak.

- Yes, please!  He shook even harder.

 She moved faster and patted the recruiter on the head encouragingly, delicately wiping the tears from his face. Bending down to her knees, she whispered softly but clearly into the man's ear, "I forgive you, Gong Yu."

Simultaneously with these words of approval, the salesman finished, dirtying his underwear and expensive pants. The discharge went through his entire body, and he instinctively pressed his wife's leg closer to his cumming cock. Now he looks even more pathetic – all sweaty, red-faced, breathing heavily. Fingers dug deeper into his hair, gently scratching his scalp. His mind gradually returned to him, and embarrassment hit his head as hard as excitement had once done. His body went numb, and Gon lazily tried to push off the floor and stand on wobbly legs, but all attempts were prevented by the fatigue and pressure of his wife's legs and arms.

"Hush, honey," she got out of bed, turning her husband over so that he remained in the same position, except that his head was lying on the bed instead of on her legs. She took a couple of steps away, removed all the "improvised" materials from the bed and went behind the salesman and, taking off his pants and jacket, lifted him in her arms (almost bending in half). Throwing him on the bed, she undressed him completely, except for the boxer and left the room. Confusion and awkwardness rose to the moon, he tiredly leaned his head back on the pillow and, shuddering from the cold, began to wonder where she had gone. ** She returned in less than half a minute with a wet towel in her hands and clean men's underwear. The recruiter awkwardly covered his eyes with his forearm as she wiped the places where his sperm got into, in particular his penis. Then she threw the boxers at him–change yourself, be kind–and with that she went behind the screen to change herself.  With shaking hands, he pulled off his dirty underwear and put on the ones his wife had kindly brought. The man was about to get up to put on his pajamas and take a shower, but he was interrupted by the sound of the chandelier turning off and the feeling of the bed warming up next to him – I'm tired and I want to sleep, lie back down. I'm not going to let you go anywhere from me again for the next ten hours. Gong Yu exhaled guiltily and got back into bed. ** She moved closer to him, resting her head on his bare chest.

"I'm sorry..

"Shut up, I've already told you that I forgive you," the girl felt a hand touching her waist.

- Today was an important date, the salesman said, half–asking, half-asserting.

- No, do you really need an excuse to spend time with me in a pleasant home environment?

- no. You're right, I'm sorry....  He was lost in thought again, returning to her words about his work. "What... did they tell you about my work?"  Gon asked the next question carefully, probing the ground.

"Eh?" Nothing. I told you to tease you, and it worked out great," she giggled, snuggling even closer, "as long as you get home on time, I don't care.

- That's how it is.. – he breathed out a sigh of relief, kissing *** on the top of his head – yes, you did it wonderfully. You were so damn hot.

- I'm glad you appreciated it. But I won't repeat it. Well, not this week for sure – she pouted her pink lips (not sexual) – being rude is so exhausting, how do you deal with it at night?

"What a pity. I liked. If not this week, then next week, it doesn't matter when, but it must happen again.

Today, everything that could have gone out of his control. He didn't take a shower or put on his favorite pajamas. His wife fucked his brains out with a gun.

Maybe losing control over something is not always unpleasant.

Especially when, even with loss, you remain perfect.

[tlonista]

A whole mess of Astarion hurt/comfort fanfic recs

OK fine I've read so much Astarion hurt/comfort-adjacent fic that I should really put together an incomplete rec list. Be warned that with Astarion's canon backstory there's a lot of abuse and assault references of varying explicitness, so check the AO3 tags. I'm also limiting myself to one fic per author because otherwise I'd end up with several pages of Asidian and FlowerCitti. In case you're wondering, my personal contribution to the field is Seducere.

Ongoing Fics:

innocence died screaming by FlowerCitti

Comprehensive pre- and in-canon Astarion character study. Contains possibly the most heartwrenching post-Astarion-locked-tomb-era turn I've ever read. Very good.

Another Path by Asidian

A sweet Wyllstarion monster hunter x monster no-tadpole AU in which Astarion gets captured/rescued by Wyll straight out of a year in a coffin and navigates basic human kindness for the first time in a couple centuries.

Seen by ayvaines

Modern Bloodweave AU where Cazador is Astarion's cruel, controlling boyfriend and Gale is the kind D&D GM who's hosting them both in a game. As makes sense for a modern AU, it's a more-understated-than-canon take on Astarion coming to terms with the fact that he's in an abusive relationship, working out his feelings about Cazador through tabletop roleplaying, including some clever scenes dealing with the bleed of intense RPG sessions.

Heartbeats by LadyRagnelle

Canon-divergent Durgestarion fic where Astarion was recaptured by his siblings, memory-wiped, and then rescued by a team of companions he no longer remembers. A lot of well-executed (and sometimes surprisingly funny) angst around Astarion, charlatan that he is, trying to pretend he hasn't forgotten absolutely everything including how to be a non-level-1 rogue and have friends.

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers

Gale is trapped in fantasy nullspace and gets Astarion free of Cazador's clutches, after which they navigate an odd-couple relationship while trying to kill Cazador and pull Gale back into the physical world. Another classic "Astarion learns what human decency is" no-tadpole AU.

Memoir by IzzyIzGay

An Interview with the Vampire-style fic in which Astarion tells Gale about his time under Cazador, playing with that series' trademark unreliable narration and an unusually literal version of Cazador's creepy family dynamic.

Starved by neo7v

A modern non-magical Bloodweave AU featuring Astarion and the lonely degradation of a precarious service industry job! Only a few chapters so far, but seriously, it takes the "vampiric starvation" theme in a direction that's very mundane and miserable and compelling and it's one of my favorite recently started fics.

Unexpected Guests by Erandir

Another "get loved and cared for, sucker" no-tadpole AU featuring a non-Tav druid OC taking care of a lost Astarion who's escaped Baldur's Gate. Astarion and druids, the perfect foil.

Through The Night Dark And Drear by JJJSchmidt

Astarion is accidentally bargained off to an archfey by Cazador and taken to the palace of infuriatingly confusing fair folk magic! There's still a lot of story left to be uncovered, but I love the worldbuilding and fairy-tale premise.

snare by parsnipit

A Halstarion fic where Astarion never got tadpoled and the gang ends up rescuing him from Cazador, post-game, with his compulsions very much intact. Which leads naturally to hissing wet cat Astarion reluctantly learning to trust Halsin while they plot to take down Cazador.

One-Shots:

Quick Step by starkraving

starkraving's another person who could have made up a big chunk of this list, and this character study plays really well on the classic "how the hell does Astarion know how to be a rogue anyway" fandom conversation. My favorite entry in a good and growing series of Astarion-centered fics.

Gifts by Feena_c

Astarion gets caught by Cazador before the confrontation at the palace. Impeccable "Cazador doesn't realize Astarion didn't just come back to Baldur's Gate, he came back loved" vibe, as Cazador tries to break Astarion by taking away the gifts the tadpole gang gave him along the way.

What is Affection but the Absence of Cruelty by Aztec24

One of my favorite tropes is "Astarion tortures himself by obsessively imagining how awful these perfectly nice people will be to him," and this very much delivers. Featuring a rare two-Tavs-plus-Astarion throuple!

The Mimic by ForsakenFlyingCircus

This is really hurt-no-comfort, but I'm including it because it's a good super sad take on dehumanization with an awful Tav confirming all the worst things Astarion thinks about himself and the world, touching on the whole problem of sentient monsters in D&D.

Peel the scars from off my back by WitchyBee

A Spawn Family fic in the aftermath of Astarion getting Cazador's contract on his back - lots of antagonistic but grudgingly caring sibling interaction and Astarion being satisfyingly ambivalent about it all.

Complete Multi-Chapter Fic:

Just A Taste by NightmareGiraffe

The tadpole gang gets imprisoned at Moonrise Towers and Astarion accepts an offer from Araj Oblodra in exchange for their freedom. A very dark yet totally in-character elaboration on the canon blood merchant encounter, plus a cool dragonborn Tav.

The Accountant’s Guide to Taking Down an Evil Vampire Lord (and maybe bagging Astarion while you are at it) by Cinnamontails

A charming f!OC-who-isn't-Tav/Astarion longfic that combines hurt/comfort with het romance novel conventions, which I feel like is rarely pulled off.

And I know there's a ton I missed here -- god this fandom is big.

[obsidianstrawberrymilk]

innocence died screaming

"Xiaoxi mouths at him to do something. Her eyes are wide and desperate. There is glass all over the floor and rage choking the air and his mother’s tears wet the top of his head and the blood from his father’s hammer wets the rest. He had watched his father use that hammer to pound nails into wood. He had stepped back and looked proud of himself, clapped Tianchen on the shoulder. He had said, “This is what it means to be a man.”" Or: Li Tianchen, rage, obedience, and what it means to be a man.

🍓2.7k || gen || rated teenage 🍓character study || li tianchen-centric 🍓written for the character study exchange for @marichild

[savagewildnerness]

“”I was a dreadful child," I said, trying to shrug it off. Of course I did remember now -- screaming, being carried home, nightmares about the fires. Someone bathing my forehead and saying, "Lestat, wake up."

But I hadn't thought of that little scene in years. It was the place itself I thought about whenever I drew near it -- the thicket of blackened stakes, the images of men and women and children burnt alive.

Nicolas was studying me. "When your mother came to get you, she said it was all ignorance and cruelty. She was so angry with the priest for telling us the old tales."

I nodded.

The final horror to hear they had all died for nothing, those long-forgotten people of our own village, that they had been innocent. "Victims of superstition," she had said. "There were no real witches." No wonder I had screamed and screamed.”

My E string is out of tune in this.  A pox on The Sun.  I’m sure the vampires would concur.  

If anyone wants to pick a quote from book or TV to improvise to tomorrow, send me a message. (It won't be with my vamp friends - just an improv one.) Any character. Easier if there is some feeling in whatever it is. And ideally 1 sentence to 1 paragraph long. I sometimes do longer ones, but sh

[little-murmaider]

(A little WIP Wednesday (On A Thursday) because moments after completing AOTD for the first time I launched into an intense in-depth Skwisgaar character study, Obviously.)

“I know what’cher doin’.”

“De works of t’ree men? Ja, what else ams new, cans we fockus?” He pushes Nathan’s reading glasses up the slope of his nose and into his hair. “Dere’s somet’ings abouts dis chords progression dat’s not gelling for mes…”

Skwisgaar glances up. Pickles has pivoted to face away from his kit, hunched over, forearms resting on his thighs. His Rock Talk pose. Goddamnit.

“Whats.”

“Yer checkin’ in on everybahdy.” He flicks his wrist in the space between them. “Dis is a check-in.”

“De songs gots to gets done, does it nots?” He dodges. Pickles doesn’t buy it. He rises, idly scratching the side of his neck with the end of his drumstick.

“Sure,” he drawls, ambling over to where Skwisgaar is cross-legged on the ground. “Butcha saught me out t’work on th’sahng right after Nathan screamed at me t’go fuck myself.”

“Did dat happens?” Skwisgaar shoots for airy innocence and misses by a mile.

Pickles plops down in front of him. “I’m just sayin’ yer timin’s nyeeeehhhhhhhh a l’il suspect.”

“Mine timings am imppecables,” he snaps. “Ams always where I needs to bes.”

Pickles’s mouth stretches in that stupid, sideways, Cheshire Cat-like grin, polishing his front teeth his tongue—FUCK Skwisgaar walked right into that one.

“Musickallys,” he adds, pathetically.

“Dood, y’wanna talk about naht new? Dis is naht new. You actin’ all—”

He extends his arms out to full length and tips back, dropping his voice and crossing his eyes.

“YYYYYUUUUUUEEEEEGHHHHHHHH Gets Away From Mes I Hates You Peoples while sneakin’ around makin’ sure all’a us are okey? Y’think I don’ notice dat?”

“I t’inks de lack of access to drugs ams giving you brain damage.”

“Y’might be able t’fool dese other dooshbeegs, but y’ceen’t fool me. I’ve had ya klocked—and I’m sayin’ clock wit’ a k, t’be clear—since ya braught det Norwegian riff-raff into our lives.”

“When dids you becomes de type of guys what say riff-raff?”

“I see ya, Skwis. I’ve always seen ya.”

“Ooooooh does yous?” There was a time where the one-two punch of his withering tone and devastating eye roll would reduce a man to ash. But it’s been a rough few years. He’s gotten soft. His roller shoulders and rapid-fire arpeggios betray him. “And whats eggs-acktly ams you seeing wif dem beady littles badger eyes?”

The toe of Pickles sneaker brushes Skwisgaar’s ankle and he fights off a flinch.

“Dat despite yer best efforts.” His voice is too familiar, too fond. He scooches closer. “Yer a good guy, Skwigelf.”

Skwisgaar scoffs. The metal strings sting against his callouses, blood pooling hot in the ends of his fingers, and something must be wrong with his hookup because there’s a high pitch whine in his ears and a buzz in his chest and they need to finish the song the song’s not done they need to get it done—

“Skwisgaar.”

The pinch of Pickles’s thumb and forefinger on Skwisgaar’s jaw shocks a gasp out of him, the guitar clattering to the ground with a CLANG. Skwisgaar’s jolts, involuntary, but Pickles’s hold is firm.

“Look at me.” His voice is level, his gaze bright and a little watery, pinning him to the spot. “You are good, Skwisgaar.”

And, well.

He doesn’t know why this, out of everything, is what gets him. He’s been more than a little unnerved by the Pickles is Band Mom thing, mostly because he already has a mom and he actually likes Pickles, but here is his friend, at the end of the world, saying the words he has always, always wanted to hear, and the gossamer bubble of emotion that’s been swelling against his ribs these last few months, at last, bursts.

Distantly he hears his breath hitch, feels tears stream down his cheeks. He’s an embarrassingly ugly crier so when so when he’s crushed into Pickles’s chest, when he inhales that familiar scent of hair wax and old weed and something uniquely Pickles (how does he smell wet he always smells wet) he curls his arms around his waist and sobs.

[siderusmysteriarch]

What Your Favorite AO3 Tags Say About You

a le silly character study based on what you read. ♪(´ε｀*) ヽ(*≧ω≦)ﾉ

"Found Family"

You were let down by blood. You just wanted someone to stay. It hurt, didn’t it? To be told you weren’t enough. Home isn’t a place to you, it’s a seat at the table, a hand to catch you when you fall,

but those hands were never there, were they?

"Canon Divergence"

You took the author’s plot, whispered “no,” and did parkour off a rooftop. You want your butterfly effect chaos. You’re allergic to letting beloved characters suffer unnecessarily.

You are the god now. Canon can cry.

"Major Character Death"

You’re addicted to heartbreak, hunting stories where love and loss collide. You know the ending before you start. You’re not afraid of the pain, but of the emptiness left when it’s over.

But why do you keep coming back for more? Is it the pain, or the way it reminds you that nothing ever lasts? Or do you just want to feel something, remind yourself that you are still human?

"Dead Dove: Do Not Eat"

You’re the kind of person who reads the warning and goes, "Yeah, but what’s inside?" You like your stories like you like your snacks, a little bit rotten and definitely questionable. You enjoy the chaos, the mess, and maybe secretly hope for a plot twist that’s just too much.

But hey, are you just bored…

or do you crave the parts of life we’re too afraid to face?

"Hurt/No Comfort"

You don’t want easy healing, just raw, unfiltered pain.

Why? Do you think you deserve it, or are you searching for something that feels real and not fixed? Do you crave the emptiness, or is it just easier than hope?

"Plot? What Plot?"

You’re here for the spice, not the storyline. The plot? Who needs it when the characters are too busy, well, getting to know each other? You skip the slow burn, dive straight into the heat, and probably laugh at anyone still looking for “character development.”

But tell me, when was the last time you really connected, not just physically, but emotionally?

"Crack"

You laugh, because if you don’t, you might just scream. If you don't turn it into a joke, it will destroy you.

You can only run from reality for so long. And life will drag you into the seriousness, whether you’re ready or not.

"Fix-it"

A happy ending is what you crave maybe in real life too. Tell me, is it easier to fix fiction than to believe things could still be okay for you?

How many things in your life could be fixed, if someone just cared enough to try?

"Everyone Lives / Nobody Dies"

You’ve known loss too well in fiction, in life, in silence. So you chase the soft rewrites, where the knife misses, the fall is caught, and the goodbye never comes.

Is it childish to hope for peace? Or is it brave?

"Fake Dating"

You like the safety of a lie everyone agrees on. No risks, just rehearsals.

Is it the comfort of structure you crave? Or the thrill of almost being loved, without having to ask for it?

"Amnesia"

You crave the innocence of forgetting, the freedom of erasing all the thingsbthat haunt you when you can’t let go.

But do you also want to forget everything? To start anew, without the baggage, without the memories that define you?

Or are you afraid of what you’d lose if you erased it all?

[ethereousdelirious]

Sicktember 2023 Day 7

Prompt: "You're a jerk when you're sick

Fandom: Bl.ack B.utler

Characters: W.illiam, R.onald

Wordcount: 1,190

Notes: CW for child death (not terribly graphic, but happens on-screen [so to speak])

Heartless.

It was one of those words that girls flung at Ronald from time to time. Heartless, callous, cruel, faithless. It wasn't the sort of thing he identified with, not really. He just liked to have a good time, that was all. It wasn't his fault that girls misunderstood from time to time.

Shivering on the bank of the Thames, blinking in the thick snowfall, he saw heartless.

Heartless stood tall and slender, fine figure clothed in black. Hardened phosphorescent eyes scowled behind water-spotted glasses, full lips pulled down into an unimpressed frown. He stood unmoved by the shrieks of the children who scrambled on the thin ice, desperate to get away from the sudden blizzard upon them, terrified by the cracking beneath their feet.

Heartless had a name, and it was William T Spears.

Even Ronald, who was incurably given to levity of spirit, could not help the miserable wave of nausea that crashed over him as he watched the little figures skitter across the ice. He shivered and shoved his hands further into his pockets, tucking his elbows against his sides.

William, ordinarily so unflappable in his black suits, drew back into his long coat and shuddered. He was ill, Ronald knew, suffering from a cold in his head that has rendered him particularly reclusive over the prior days. But was it the cold weather or the ice inside his heart that had rendered him so?

A sneeze bent him double, then another. He really shouldn't have been outdoors, but the sudden cold snap had rendered the To-Die List longer than ever and his assistance had become absolutely necessary.

"Alright?" Ronald asked, alarmed.

"Fine." William's tone left no room for argument.

Ronald shifted. "This doesn't feel right," he said, half-hating himself for it. How could he be expected to watch these little children fighting for their lives and not feel anything for them? There was a certain poetic beauty when a young woman died, a sort of macabre quality that rendered the tragedy somewhat more bearable. But children? Innocent children?

"Your assignment wasn't to feel," William snapped at once. The snow that had melted in his hair had loosened his pomade and sneezing had sent a few strands forward to rest upon his brow. His voice and breathing were both heavy, labored with illness. "Please keep your thoughts to yourself unless you have something constructive to say."

Ronald eased back into lightheartedness, raising both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. But if I might, boss, you're…"

William's stare turned icier than the weather, one eyebrow cocking. A vein pulsed at his temple, lips pulled into an unamused line.

A breathy, sheepish laugh raced over Ronald's lips. "Oh, never mind."

William sneezed again, sharp and vocal. A little expulsion of air followed, something Ronald probably wasn't meant to hear— a quivering note of discomfort catching on the wind.

Down the river, the ice cracked. The children screamed.

Ronald twitched and promptly met the frozen metal of William's Death Scythe. It struck him across the chest, hard enough to sting. "Don't interfere," William snapped.

"You're mean when you're sick," Ronald muttered.

"Call it what you like," William retorted, but he lowered his Death Scythe.

Ronald studied him to avoid watching the children in the water. William's severe features were highlighted in pink: it rimmed his eyes and nose, made splotches on his cheeks, traced the outlines of his parted lips and spilled inward to color them. The rest of him was pale with cold and illness and the dark half-circles under his eyes made him appear hollow, ephemeral, winter personified.

William sniffled. "You're staring at me."

"Sorry, sir." Ronald rubbed the back of his neck, hesitating. "It's just… you don't look very well."

"I think you'll find that doesn't matter," William said.

A deadly silence rang out between the two of them. The sounds of struggling had stopped.

Ronald shuddered, and not with the cold though the breeze still carried fat snowflakes upon its broad back.

William's footsteps crunched in the snow; he set a brisk pace with his Death Scythe braced against his shoulder like a soldier.

"I can…" Ronald began weakly. He cleared his throat. "If you need to rest, I can handle this."

"It will go faster if we both work."

"Right you are."

Five little bodies bobbed amongst the ice floes. William pulled them over one by one, expertly maneuvering his Scythe. At the last, the smallest, he made a brief, pained noise and bent double and for the briefest of moments, Ronald stood in awe at this display of emotion. But of course, it wasn't that, not at all. William sneezed into his wrist, so many times that he snatched his glasses off and buried his face entirely in his sleeve. And when the fit ended, he staggered as though dizzy, his chest heaving.

"Alright, boss?"

William restored his glasses, his expression betraying nothing but irritation. "You needn't ask me that every time."

"Yes, sir." Ronald planted his own Death Scythe on the nearest corpse and shoved his emotions to the back of his mind.

The pages of the To-Die List whipped in the wind. Ronald watched, hands in his pockets, as William hunched over and tried to flip to the right section. His shaking hands further impeded the enterprise and even Ronald's font of patience had run dry by this point. "Let's go somewhere warm!" he yelled over the wind.

Surprisingly, William acquiesced.

Neither one of them talked on the miserable trudge back to town. Ronald didn't even bother to glance at William for approval before falling through the door of the first public house they came across.

The relief was immediate; the warmth washed over him like an embrace. The place was not overly-crowded despite the weather so Ronald made a beeline for a table close to the fire. His good cheer returned almost at once as the feeling slowly began to creep back into his fingers and toes. He wiped the fog off his glasses, smiling. "This is better, isn't it?"

"Must I remind you that we're here to work?" William asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.

Ronald glanced at him and raised his eyebrows in alarm. Though his demeanor hadn't changed one iota, William certainly looked worse for wear. The pink chill on his cheeks was fading rapidly, leaving only pallor in its wake. Where Ronald's shivers were subsiding, William's only seemed to be growing stronger.

"Here, sit down."

"I mean it; we shan't linger here longer than is absolutely necessary."

"I understand that, but…" Ronald bit his lip.

William sat and took out the To-Die List and a steel pen. He nearly dropped the pen, tremors running down his arms rendering him visibly unsteady. He only sighed as though it were a minor inconvenience.

"I don't want to overstep," Ronald said hesitantly, watching William continue to struggle, "but I think you'd better go home." 'If you can make it there,' he carefully did not add. "I can take the list back to the office."

"Yes," William said softly, his eyes fixed on the page, "I think that would be wise."

[hellvar]

HOW DOES HE CARRY EMOTIONS?

ANGER : jaw clenching,  hands balling into fists,  teeth grinding,  yelling,  going nonverbal,  stuttering speech,  rushed speech,  slow concise speech,  rambling,  quiet,  arms crossing,  shaking head,  tearing up,  animated,  expressionless,  projects,  internalizes,  vents,  withdraws,  passive aggressive,  direct,  physical outbursts,  verbal outbursts

JOY : easy smiles,  fighting back grins,  suppressed laughter,  loud laughter,  giggles,  chuckling,  smirks,  whole body laughs,  covers mouth when laughing/giggling,  throws head back when laughing,  slaps leg,  touches people around them when laughing,  looks down when laughing,  looks for eye contact when laughing,  sparkling eyes,  bubbly happiness,  quiet subtle happiness, obnoxious happiness,  wants to spread joy,  quietly savors joy

SADNESS :  crying,  bottling it up,  seeks distractions,  wallows,  meditates and processes,  avoidance,  seeks out comfort,  withdraws,  talks it out,  internalizes it,  sad smiles,  depression naps,  uses alcohol,  uses drugs,  seeks out sources of joy,  fidgets with sentimental item,  sits in silence,  broods,  gets moody,  wants someone to share the misery,  tries to hide negative emotions,  nurtures others to make themselves feel better

EMBARRASSMENT/SHAME :  blushing,  looking away,  rubbing at back of head, covering face,  laughing nervously,  laughs it off,  overthinks,  lets it go, self deprecating humor,  deflects,  gets irritated,  smiles,  withdraws,  crossing arms over stomach, crossing arms over chest,  hands in pockets,  shoulders sinking,  shrugs,  falling into silence until comfortable again,  talking a lot to compensate

GUILT : avoiding eye contact,  shoulders sinking low,  head hanging down,  crying,  chest aches,  lashes out,  internalizes,  apologizes,  deflects,  communicates, withdraws,  grand gestures for forgiveness,  accepts fault easily,  punishes themselves, martyrdom,  victim complex,  guilt complex,  healthy conscience,  internalizes even after forgiveness,  SEEKING REDEMPTION, moves on easily,  denial,  lack of guilt/conscience,  sorry they got caught more than caused harm,  can’t handle knowing they hurt others

FEAR/ANXIETY : trembling,  crying,  sarcasm/sass to cope,  rambles,  goes silent,  gets angry,  fidgeting,  clenching jaw,  picking at nails,  chewing at lip,  pulling at clothes,  adjusting jewelry/clothing,  swallowing thickly,  eyes widening,  over-reacts,  under-reacts,  calm,  logical,  panic,  irrational,  overthinks,  carefully analyzes,  talks to themselves,  breathing exercises,  flight,  fight,  withdraw

tagged by:  stole it from @shufire​ <3 tagging: you if you’re so inclined!

[dreamedfyre-a]

when she was a very little i think helaena definitely tried to reach out to viserys (show her father cool bugs she found. attempt to start games and playing to some extent. ask for stories from old valyria even which is where she mght have been a little bit successful on occasion) i don't think he'd really entertain her and that from a young age she would hear from people around that he is busy, he is the king, he has important things to do (even if he was just playing with his lego set). and although little helaena might've believed he was just very busy, she's quite clever and it wouldn't take long for her to notice his disregard was rather plain. at some point any effort simply stopped, and any contact with viserys became pure formality.

i also think in his worse years he would sometimes call her rhaenyra as he did with her mother and queen aemma, and funnily* enough, it would be when mistaking his younger daughter for his eldest that he'd be the most affectionate he ever was to her. which isn't really to her considering he believes she's her sister. certainly not hurtful or damaging at all!

by the time he dies, she quite frankly doesn't care. she doesn't even care enough to pretend she cares, as i think is evident by the fact she's peacefully having breakfast with her children when people are looking for aegon because their father is dead. there's no sorrow at all, and she doesn't even feel bad about not caring he's dead. helaena would dread more and be more sad about what this means for all of them and what they need to do than for the man. or the king, because she doesn't think he did a particularly good job there either

[forsorrow]

tag drop part two.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   character study   ›   hiding all our sins from the daylight.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   pre main   ›   one for sorrow.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   main   ›   seven for a secret never to be told.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   edits   ›   innocence died screaming.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   desires   ›   be still my foolish heart.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   ask prompt   ›   your words can plant gardens.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   answered   ›   muddy these webs we weave.

╰   ✉   ⋮   ❛   queue   ›   standing in the ashes of who i used to be.

[beatrcis-blog]

tag drop !!

i ━━ ❛ : ( she waits. seething. blooming; threads. ) ii ━━  ❛ : ( innocence died screaming ━ i should know; musings. ) iii ━━  ❛ : ( lick your wounds; mirror. ) iv ━━  ❛ : ( the feeling of being fully alive; parallels. ) v ━━  ❛ : ( you'd look good in a grave; ask memes. ) vi ━━  ❛ : ( character study; tasks. )

[deldaydreams]

Saintess of dragons part 2

Part 1 , part 3

Warnings: major character death,not really dark themes , my bad writing

English is my second language

Gif is not mine

"What are you doing?" Helaena asked . The two of you were sitting outside the training ground. It was one of the rare times you didn't spend your time in your study room. The boys had insisted that you watch them during their sword practice.

"I'm checking my notes" You answered. You've been restless since you saw Laena at the celebrations. She was going to die soon—which she didn't even know about. You had to make a decision until Laena's funeral, a decision you hadn't been able to make for 11 years. You were either going to save everyone and change the future , or you were going to choose the original future, the future where everyone died.

“Why do you always take notes or check your notes?” Helaena asked innocently. You lifted your eyes from your notes and looked at Helaena. You swallowed. "Because I don't want to forget." You answered. You didn't want to forget: your past, your family, your friends, your life 11 years ago.

You looked into Helaena's lilac eyes, innocent but equally frightening eyes, those eyes that seemed to understanding what you were saying.

Helaena was about to ask another question but Aegon and the others came running up to you.

“I won Y/n. I won the fight." said Aegon excitedly. He was looking at you with eyes waiting for you to praise him. Jace sighed, unable to accept his loss. Aemond and Luke were waiting for you to take care of them. You smiled and congratulated Aegon.

“You're just going to congratulate me. As a winner, I deserve an award.” Aegon said .

“A reward? What do you want?” you said.

"to be my wife," said Aegon. Aemond and Helaena waited for your reaction as Jace and Luke objected to Aegon's offer.

“Unfortunately, I must say that this will not be possible, my prince. I don't want marriage or anything like that, neither now nor in the future.”

You thought, 'If I get married, I can't return '.

Aegon seemed to protest, but could not insist any longer. He didn't want to make you angry.

⁎

You're back in your study room. You knew that Aegon loved you, but you didn't think it was enough to propose. You thought, 'It must be because he is still young, it's not serious'.

You looked at the notes on the table. You thought, 'I have to make a decision’. It was like a dream to open your eyes in the series you love 11 years ago. Seeing and talking to your favorite characters live. It looked great at first, because you knew the future, you could change the future and give everyone a happy ending and stop the war.

You tried and you paid the price. The slightest change was causing you to gradually forget your past. You were afraid of forgetting your family, your life, what you knew, so you withdrew. As time passed, you realized that you were not getting old. This scared you even more.

The whole room was covered with charts, notes and paintings you had drawn. Everything was to remember and to return. If it weren't for these paintings and notes, you'd have forgotten your past. You looked at the picture in which you drew a happy moment with your family in your most recent work. You thought, 'Everything will be fine'.

⁎

There were screams. When you looked around, everything was on fire. Kingslanding was on fire. A silhouette was coming towards you through the fires, Laena. She was wearing a blue bloody dress.

“Laena. I- you- why? “You said hesitantly.

Laena just looked at you sadly and smiled.

She said "You could save me but you didn't"

“Laena I-” you swallowed.

"You were afraid. But you are the reason why everything is covered with fire and blood right now,” she said, pointing around.

“You didn't save me, you didn't save them, you couldn't save us. You left us to our fate,” Laena continued.

“Us?” You said

“Yes, us.” Said Laena

Then came the screams from below. Voices of familiar people. Rhaenyra, Helaena, Lucerys… others. They were all bleeding under your feet, begging you, pulling you towards them.

“Laena I-!”

“Make your decision before it's too late! Please,” Laena said. While you're being pulled down.

⁎

“Laena!” You Looked around. You were in your room. It was just a dream, a nightmare. The door knocked .

"Come"

A maid hurried in.

“Forgive me my lady, but I have news”

Your eyes widened with fear when you heard the news. Laena has died .