#Ex-wraith

[jasakime]

Ricardo Parades

[mistfallengw2]

A legendary fine norn ask game

1. How are they building their legend? What do they want it to be? Are they being successful? What's their greatest achievement? Do they really care for it?

2. How do they feel about norn society's expectations and traditions? Are they comfortable in norn society? Is there anything they wish was different?

3. What's their family like? Are they still around? Do they like them and get along? Are there any particular expectations coming from them? Is there anyone noteworthy in the family?

4. Where are they from? Were they born in Hoelbrak, in one of the many homesteads and villages, or somewhere not in the Shiverpeaks? Did they like the place? Did they travel often or stayed long in the same place?

5. Which Spirit of the Wild do they have a connection to? How was the connection forged? How does their Spirit influence them? What do they think of their Spirit? Do they revere any other Spirit?

6. Can they shapeshift into Spirit Form? What does it look like? Can they do only one kind or more? Is there anything unique to it? If they can't, what's the reason behind it?

7. What are their thoughts on Jormag and the Sons of Svanir? Have they ever had to deal with either directly?

8. Are they a good hunter? Do they like it or is it just out of necessity? What's their most impressive prey? Do they keep trophies from their hunts? Do they prefer to hunt alone or with others? What weapons do they use, if any? Have they ever taken part in a Great Hunt?

9. Do they enjoy moots? What's their favorite part? Is there anything they don't like? Was one ever thrown in their honor?

10. Did anyone mentor them or did they learn things by themselves? Would they have wanted a teacher or a different one? Was there something they wished someone had taught them before they had to learn by themselves?

11. Do they have a job/occupation? Did they ever change it? Are they happy with it?

12. Are they close with anyone or do they keep everyone at arm's length? Do they make more enemies/rivals or friends? Are they involved in any drama? Do they have any meaningful friendship or bond?

13. Do/did they have a pet or a companion of sorts? If not, would they want one?

14. Do they have any heirlooms? Are there legends behind them or do they only have sentimental value? Or did they earn/find someone else's?

15. [Free space for 3 pieces of trivia about your norn!]

[kirbodirbo]

[sunshineandviolets]

the future wives, cause i already miss them <3 Rainier, Zarina Vera & Fang Ziyi

[pinkyjulien]

📷 for ur baby Valentin💗

Valentin is a skilled netrunner and hacker

He learned on an old neo tablet, a gift from his "aunt", his mom's friend who taught him the basics of hacking

As a fast learner, he quickly moved to bigger target practice, with stronger ICE, and earned his place in one of the Bakker's scavenging team

Unlocking doors, opening locks, disabling cameras, scanning areas... He was efficient, fast and untraceable

Those same qualities where useful later when he became a full Netrunner during his Wraith time, gaining raw, unfiltered experience that would become one of his selling point in Night City

[the-kiarah-organisation]

If I had a nickel for every time an Archon got with a Harbinger, I'd have two and a half nickels. Which isn't a lot but it's weird that uh.. half? Guys?

[beloveds-embrace]

Part two of monster!141 x chubby reader

Part One.

CW: reader isn’t in a good place mentally and it’s affecting her reactions and the 141 absolutely take advantage of it. This is definitely not accurate in terms of reality. Reader has a lot of self-esteem issues, especially regarding her weight.

The thing is, you know you should be panicking way more. You know you should be fighting back, trying to think of an escape plan.

But you don’t. Exhaustion clings to you like a second skin, and you simply decide you don’t have any energy to do anything much- especially against shifters twice your size at the minimum. If they want to kill you, so be it. You doubt there’d be anyone to miss you; your parents only ever cared about your other siblings, your friends weren’t exactly your friends apparently, and you ex…

“Penny for your thoughts, dove?” The harpy whose lap you are perched on murmurs, wings fluffing out around you, the feathers soft and warm. You haven’t been on any couches or cushions ever since you woke up here, always in one of their laps. You had been terrified at first, and fear still lingers even now, but all they do is hold you tight and occasionally sniff you. Nothing more.

“Not worth much.” You whisper, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. The feathers around you rustle again, tickling your skin ever so slightly, and you can feel him nuzzle the crown of your head.

“I disagree,” Kyle says, voice musing.. The arms wound around your waist tighten, and you are pulled impossibly closer to him. Your head still finds it hard to believe just how strong they are- easily maneuvering someone even of your size like your weigh nothing. Your ex never bothered; often just made a passing mention that maybe he’d carry you like that if you hit the gym and lost a few pounds. “Worth quite a lot to me. To us.”

You don’t have a reply to that; it’s still weird and unbelievable to you. Soulmates. What a joke. Even if they existed, you doubted anyone would like you like this. Not to mention the soulmate of a harpy, a werewolf, a dragon and a wraith? It sounded like a crappy plot you’d find while scouring the internet, written by a college student driven insane in their last year.

But they insisted they were right, and refuse to let you go, and now here you are being cuddled to one of them while the other three thud about upstairs. You can hear their voices, but not what they are saying. Though it sounds like they are quite busy.

“You cold, dove?” Kyle asks when he feels you shudder again, at last wrapping his wings fully around you even before you can answer. The feathers are so soft, and he smells so nice, like jasmine and vanilla. You almost felt hungry, simply smelling him.

“No.” The answer is quiet, croaked out tiredly. Sleep tugs at you even though it hasn’t been that long since you’ve woken up, the pounding, hungover headache long since dissipated.

You hate this syrupy slowness that lets you remain snuggled against him. You hate how safe you feel, despite your mind screaming at you otherwise. You don’t know these men, don’t know anything about them except their names, and yet your body has never felt quite this comfortable.

“Sleep, precious.” Kyle croons, his hand rubbing down your back. He buries his face in your hair, still crooning, and leaves a trail of kisses across your temple. “Sleep. You are safest and soundest here, with us.”

And so your eyes flutter shut, and your breath evens out; sleep comes to you as easy as breathing, and for one, ephemeral second, you don’t worry about your weight being too much for him.

[alexlexperiments]

Ex-boyfriend CEO! Satoru did not see that coming!

Ex-boyfriend CEO! Satoru did not move on from things. No, he would much rather gnaw on the metaphorical bone of his inconveniences to the marrow and stew, pout and annoy his way through any hardship, until things were finally done his way - the right way, as he would call it. A Satoru problem was a communal problem so it was in everyone’s best interest to keep him appeased.

When you broke up with him (out of nowhere!, he would say, despite your many convoluted discussions and screaming matches that ended on a flying shoe heading straight to his head), one would believe the apocalypse had finally arrived if the sudden hovering cloud of doom that covered the however-many-floors skyscraper of Gojo Industry was any indicator. Satoru dragged himself through the halls like an emo wraith, a strong-smelling flask in one hand and a comically large Hershey’s bar in the other, sucking the joy and laughter out of every room he entered.

Now, one might ask if he hadn’t fought for your relationship, considering you were, in his very own Shakespearian words, “his pookie”. And of course he would! He had fought much harder for much less, e.g the Great Kikufuku Fistfight of 2010. He would’ve hung outside your window with a boombox playing every Glee song until your neighbours threw stones at him; he would’ve bought you a whole ass Pop Mart so you could open every single surprise box until you forgave him; he would’ve… He would’ve… He would’ve worked on himself - grow by your side and become a better version of the man you initially fell in love with. He would evolve from his current ever-hungry, sassy manchild state to an… Well, ever-hungry, sassy manadult (?).

If only you gave him a chance! Instead, you had disappeared from the face of the earth as soon as you shut the door behind you, gone without a trace much like Nanami’s side bangs and just as missed. Suddenly, Satoru couldn’t find your socials, reach your number or contact your friends and family. If it wasn’t for a couple of belongings you left behind, he would’ve thought he dreamt of your relationship in a vape and Red Bull induced haze.

Now, years later and much more mature, no longer leaving his wet towel on the bathroom floor or smoking tutti-frutti summer tropical e-cigs, he still carried your vacancy like a scar, the weight of all the love he had stored for you sagging his posture. And despite his easy laughter, lazy smiles and concerningly odd gait, his stare was always a bit disconnected or dissociated, daydreaming of the day you would come back to his arms, all sins forgotten and forgiven.

Well, when that day finally came, it did not go exactly as he had planned or written down on his journal with crass stick figure illustrations depicting your first night together in a way that had even his stoic friend suguru blushing to the roots of his luscious hair. No, it happened when he was in the ER after swallowing a small Happy Meal plastic toy (don’t ask) and a young child with striking blue eyes sat next to him, legs kicking underneath the too high chair, looking chastised.

“Tough day?” he asked the child as if they were both salary men complaining at an izakaya.

The boy nodded grimly. “Ate too much candy”, he admitted. “Threw up. Scared momma.”

Ah, the wonders of childhood. “Yup” Satoru agreed “Been there. I once ate 3 packages of fruity pebbles in one day.” He refrained from telling the child that happened when he was in college, as that information was inconsequential.

“Momma doesn’t let me eat so much candy.”

“She seems like a smart lady. I had a girlfriend who didn’t like when I ate too much candy too.”

“You don’t have a girlfriend anymore?” the boy asked and Satoru suddenly felt as if he had met the smallest therapist ever for a free session.

“No. She left.”

“Because of all the candy?”

Satoru paused. Oh my God, could it be because of all the candy? “I… I don’t think so?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t eat candy,” the child mused. “I don’t want momma to leave.” 

Satoru looked around for the possible mother of the tiny shrink. “Where is your mother, by the way?” 

“Hiro!” a voice called. “There you are baby!”

Satoru had several thoughts at the same time, his epiphany pulling out a gasp from his throat that lodged the fucking toy even deeper in his airways. 

The first thought, intrusive and instinctual, was of how pretty you looked. Older and matured, filled out in all the right places. You paradoxically looked exactly the same, but somehow better.

The second thought was about how he was never great at math nor at telling children’s age. But even he could add two and two and come up with an educated guess at that boy’s parentage, considering the lazuli eyes and the worrying taste for forbidden candy. 

The third and final thought was of how lucky he was to already be in the ER, because he was about 76% sure he was having a heart attack.

A/N: english is not my first language and this is my first time writing for the JJK universe, so feedback would be greatly appreciated!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Still in love/obsessed ex-husband

A still in love and obsessed ex-husband can be answered in various ways. I thought I'd make this one a little loosey goosey and stretch the definition of "ex-husband" here a tad bit. I also split "still in love" and "obsessed." My personal HC about these characters actions around those two phrases will certainly vary.

Find the Imagines & What If Series Masterlist HERE

Content & Warnings (MDNI): reconciliation, fluff, light angst, suggestive themes, swearing, marriage, strained and established relationships, stalking

Word Count: 400

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“I still have it.”

“Have what?” you ask.

“Your wedding dress,” answers John.

“I told you to return it. And the ring.”

John shakes his head. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it. Still in my closet.”

“You don’t want to.”

“No.”

“Why?” you ask.

“You know why, love.”

You sigh. “Did you sign the papers?”

“No,” he answers automatically. “Why would I? When you’re clearly still in love with me.”

“John.”

“You promised me an army.”

“I’ve given you three,” you murmur, thinking of your children with him.

John smiles, and you melt. “We can make number four right here.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“What’s this?”

“Nothing.”

“Show me.”

You keep your hand behind your back. Johnny grins down at you, one eyebrow raised. Johnny is fast, snagging your arm and bringing your hand into the light.

His gaze drops to the diamond on your finger.

“You still wear it,” he breathes.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, love. It does.” He steps closer, one warm hand cupping your cheek.

You lean into him, not wanting to admit out loud what still holds true in your heart.

“You still love me,” he teases.

“And?” you prompt.

He draws you close. “And I still want you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Signing this won’t change anything. You know this.”

Kyle is right and you hate that he is. Grasping the back of your neck, Kyle threads his fingers through your hair. Twisting. Gripping. Arching your neck.

He draws you forward, lips nearly brushing over yours. “You know I’d burn everything down for you. Walk any distance. I will never be rid of you. Never.”

Kyle’s words are searing. They sit heavy in your chest.

“Do you not feel the same?” He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that.”

The divorce papers are scattered across the kitchen table.

You swallow. “Shred them.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is a wraith.

He watches from the shadows. He knows your every step, who you talk to, and what your day looks like. He has always known. Even before you called him husband—and before that boyfriend—Ghost learned your habits.

He sits. Waits.

You glance over your shoulder with no idea how close he is, trying to find his in. Because he will. He will have you.

The current boyfriend will disappear.

Just like the last one.

Because Ghost made it happen.

All he needs is time and then, he can put his ring back on your finger.

[meguwumibear]

The first time the two of you run into her, Zayne’s body goes rigid. You’re on your way to lunch at a noodle restaurant he scoped out a few weeks prior after developing a feel for your tastes. She’s dressed in her hunter uniform, which means she’s working another weekend shift, against her doctor’s orders. He wonders how much sleep she’s getting, and if she’s eating a full three meals.

Zayne’s mind runs from him as he stares at her, losing track of what’s happening in his body, forgetting who’s tucked up against his side. He doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s begun to grip your hand until you give his a gentle, questioning squeeze. The pressure and warmth of your fingers should ground him, but it’s been a while since he’s seen her outside the office. Thoughts of her and her wellbeing form out of habit, one he continues to struggle to break.

If you were less observant, perhaps he could explain away his sudden change in demeanor, but Zayne has always liked his women knife sharp. Words have failed him in the past. The sentences he strings together are always too curt, too short, too clinical to carry a conversation or make his true feelings known. One must look not only at what he has said, but at what his actions convey if they want to understand him.

(He does not tell her that he missed her, only that he checked the weather where she stayed.)

You’re fluent in latent content—it’s one of the many things he likes about you—which is how he knows you don’t miss the way his eyes flick to her. Or that he can’t seem to peel them away. You frown, but say nothing, which makes him feel like a fucking jackass. She doesn’t want him. Not in this life. And, he’s risking whatever he has with you by staring at her, at the woman who left him, at the woman who never stays.

You wait until you’re back at his place to ask about her. Your tone is soft, curious, but your eyes are unable to meet his. They keep looking over his shoulder or at his feet.

“Who is she?” you want to know, only he doesn’t know how to answer that. He doesn’t know how he could possibly begin to explain to you that he’s known for her lifetimes without sounding like some delusional, lovesick pup still hung up on his ex.

“A wraith,” he tells you since that’s as close to the truth as he can get. “She’s someone from my past.”

You hum, then add, “I figured. It looked like you saw a ghost when we crossed paths with her.”

Zayne wishes you were angry—he feels better equipped for that—but you just sound sad.  It makes his heart feel unusually heavy. It aches, like it may drop out from behind his ribs and leave a dark cavity in his chest.

“About your ex,” he starts, though he isn’t quite sure where he’s going with this. The night you first met, you cried to Zayne about them, but they haven’t come up since.

“Would you believe me if I told you they were a hunter too?”

Zayne doesn’t miss how you speak of them in the past tense.

“Were?” he asks.

You look at him finally, and there is pain in your eyes; they glisten with something all too familiar to him. “They died,” you say, voice thick with grief, “protecting the city from Wanders.”

This, at least, is something Zayne understands. He meets grief life after life, two old, begrudging friends.

“You never told me,” he says.

You shrug, “Most people don’t like to talk about death.”

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” you agree, “you’re not.”

Zayne thinks of the jasmine you brought him your first night over. True to your word, you help him dry the plant so he can keep it forever. He thinks of what you told him that night, when he nearly collapsed at the sight of the taunting white petals. You told him what humans perceive as death is just energy changing form. Perhaps that belief formed in the aftermath of your exes passing.

“Do you believe in past lives?” he asks.

Your brows knit together as you give the question some thought.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” you eventually reply. “If nothing is ever added or subtracted from the universe, an argument could be made in its favor. Why do you ask? Is she from one of yours?”

“She is,” he tells you. “She’s from quite a few.”

“Oh,” you reply as you look away from him. Your frown deepens, and Zayne hates that there’s nothing he can do to stop it. “I think this might be my first life. My first human one anyway. I was probably a bird before this. A flighty one like an arcticyon or something.”

Sometimes, Zayne can’t believe you’re real.

“It’s a privilege to have met you here, then,” he tells you. “And, I’ll look forward to meeting you again.”

You flash him a small smile, “You think you’ll find me in the next one?”

He returns the fond look you give him, “I will certainly try.”

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 8 continuation of your little date, I hope you enjoy! Also haven't proofread it because I didn't want to make you all wait another week for it. Sorry. You're welcome to point out errors to me. English words were hard this time, sorry if some of it is redundant. Part 7 | COD Masterlist | Part 9

Simon watches you from the corner of his eyes while you two walk alongside each other through the park. You’re tossing a ball for Wraith and the guard dog basically turned into an overgrown puppy at the sight of the toy.

It’s gotten late and after you spent the entire afternoon in the Café talking, Wraith needed a walk. Instead of saying goodbye you invited Simon to tag along. That’s a win, right? It’s a big step. You voluntarily decided to spend more time with him and Simon can feel himself vibrate with excitement.

“So an ex-soldier. What exactly did you do?”, you ask him while you toss Wraith’s ball for the thousandth time. You turn your pretty face towards him and he meets your eyes, puts his hands into his pockets and slightly shrugs his shoulders.

“Spec Ops.”, is his simple answer and you furrow your brows.

“Spe- what?” The confusion in your voice is adorable and Simon balls his fists, stuffs them deeper into his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid (like pull you in and kiss you breathless).

“Special Operations. We weren’t really deployed somewhere permanently, instead they sent us wherever we were needed. Lots of stuff I am not allowed to talk about.”, he explains and wonders if you’ll be scared of him again.

When he looks at you, your eyes are wide. “Oh.”, you mutter and seem to think hard. It grows quiet for a minute and a small smile finds its way onto Simon’s lips. You’re chewing your lips again, seemingly troubled and who the fuck allowed you to look so adorable doing that.

“What is it, sweetheart.”, he asks, his voice warm and soft. He really hopes you can’t hear the lovesick undertone.

“I don’t know what I’m allowed to ask.”, you explain and grin self-conscious. He wants to lick the awkwardness off your lips (whoa okay, he really needs to get his thoughts in check).

Instead of doing that like a total creep, he tells you: “You can ask whatever you want, sweetheart. We’ll see what I can answer.”

You nod and think again. So far you haven’t protested his continued use of petnames. He enjoys it, enjoys claiming you with words in a subtle way. The only thing he’d enjoy even more would be you claiming him back. With words, marks, a collar, anything as long as he gets to be yours.

By now you’re walking closely besides him, and every now and then your arms brush against each other. It sends a shock up his arm every time, makes his neck tingle and his jaw clench in an effort to hold back, to not overwhelm you. The last thing he wants is to fuck up with you. As much as he wants to hold you he’d rather endure torture again than make you uncomfortable by coming on too strong.

“Why did you retire?”, you finally ask. “You don’t have to answer if you’d rather not!”, you immediately add in the same breath and Simon chuckles a bit at that.

The way you’re glancing at him seems nervous. It’s oddly endearing, like you’re nervous of misstepping with him. He quite enjoys that look on your face. Making you nervous in a way that doesn’t stem from fear is weirdly thrilling and he wants to keep doing it (would you be nervous if he pushed you up against a tree? If he used his height to his advantage and had you at his mercy? Would you be nervous if you had him at your mercy? God, he wants to be at your mercy).

“’s alright, sweets. Had a mission that went south, can’t really go into details. After that they set us up with a comfortable new life and told us to start over.” He can see the curiousness plain as day in your eyes and he wants to kick the officials who’re keeping him from just telling you everything.

Maybe someday he’ll do it anyway. Fuck if anyone can dictate him what to talk about. He’ll definitely tell you someday. Once he’s yours and sure you won’t run from him for revealing his past.

You cock your head at that. “Can you tell me about your team?”, you ask instead of prying and he could kiss you for that alone (he’s not sure he could have denied you, had you asked with your sweet voice and big curious eyes).

He nods at you and your face practically lights up with a big smile at the opportunity to finally get more info. He’s tempted to tell you every single confidential thing he knows, just to see you light up like that again.

“The lads are all in town. We’re four. Johnny, the fucker, owns a bakery. Flirts with everyone that comes in. People dig the accent.”, he begins and you perk up.

“Accent? It’s not the Scottish one, is it? What was his name…”, you seem to wrack your brain for it. “Mac…. Mac…”

“MacTavish.”, Simon supplies and you beam at him.

“I know that guy! His bread is to die for.”, you claim and Simon can’t really tell you that he already knows you frequent his friends bakery (he might have seen you there when he went to visit Johnny at work; might have worked out the times you go to Johnny’s and visited him more often around that time).

“He seems really nice but…”, you trail off and when you don’t continue Simon gently nudges you with his elbow to go on (you don't seem bothered by the contact, and he's surprised by himself for daring to do that so casually), curious what you might have to say about Johnny. You hesitate.

“Go on, sweetheart.”, he urges gently.

 “… he kinda intimidates me.”, you finally admit and suddenly Simon is grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Johnny intimidates you. Who would have ever guessed.

Johnny, who only recently teased him that ‘the cutie’ would never warm up to him because of his scary mask, intimidates you. Yet scary Simon is the one you’re taking a stroll in the park with. He desperately wants to rub it in Johnny’s face.

“Don’t tell your friend about it, but I can’t ever seem to remember his name. My friends and I refer to him as MacFlurry.”, you add, blushing but grinning mischievously.

Simon stares at you for a second and he can see the smile slowly drop and the apology forming on your lips when he starts laughing. He clutches his ribs, doubling over. Oh he’s gonna have so much fun with this information.

After a few seconds your laughter joins his as you’re helplessly giggling along, his booming laughter infectious.

“That…”, he laughs. “That’s great. Fucking MacFlurry.” He practically wheezes in laughter. Shit, he wants to marry you. Right here, right now.

Your giggle is beautiful and slightly bashful. Simon wishes he could catch it in a jar so he might listen to the heavenly sound again and again.

Finally he catches his breath and straightens up a bit, his eyes are twinkling, creases all around them from smiling so widely. He wants to tug you in close and thank you for existing.

“You know, sweetheart, I could always introduce you to MacFlurry and the others. We’re meeting up this evening. Wanna tag along?”, he blurts out before he can reconsider and your eyes grow wide and alarmed.

[kings-highway]

daichi being a local cop is so fucking funny pre timeskip bc can you imagine being 18 year old Hinata-Kageyama-Yamaguchi-Tsukki and hosting a graduation party and you're used to being third years and Tadashi's the captain everyones matured and then suddenly like a goddamn dad-wraith your ex-captain from when you were fourteen shows up and tells you to stfu because the neighbours have filed a noise complaint. imagine the immediate emotional regression. shaking where they stand. "yes captain," hinata says. "Its officer, actually," daichi replies, exhausted.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Maniac

Ex!Aemond Targaryen x Reader + Rebound!Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Not everyone can take the pressure of being involved with a Targaryen. Beyond the heat the media give the powerful family, there was the heat of those in power within the house that stood between everything. This is what lead to Aemond letting you go and Daemon swiping you up.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: modern au, fem!reader, mention/depiction of sex, old money!targaryren, smoking, drinking, eternally smug!daemon, eternally annoyed!aemond, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a poll decided pairing (: . idk i thought of this plot while vibing to maniac by conan gray Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @lxdyred

"Hey puppy," I coo as I jog up to the door and cup Aemond's face. I pepper him with kisses before wrapping my arms around him, "how was work?" He looks at me, grabs my wrists, pulls my arms away, and speaks my name. I raise a brow, "Aemond?" "I'm breaking up with you."

The bass in the venue thumps in my ribcage. I hop around with the sea of people to the beat of some obscure EDM song. I throw my head back and cheer. I sway my hips after downing the contents of my cup.

I nearly gag as I burp. I wipe my lips as I still for a moment to get my bearings.

Fuck. If he knew, Aemond would be so-

I growl when I catch myself in the middle of that thought. I mess my already messed hair up and crush my plastic cup.

No, no. Fuck Aemond.

I shirk when the bodies around me begin to get too close for comfort. Time to get out of here.

I weave through the crowd, glad the sequins of my fitted red dress wasn't getting snagged into anyone's clothing. As I squeeze through a group of girls, I catch a face from the corner of my eye. His burning blonde hair looked pink under the lights; still, he was unmistakable, and it seemed so was I, judging by how he raises his glass to me after we lock eyes.

I look away. How dare he act so familiar?

I turn back to him. He beckons me over with a head tilt.

I scoff. Fuck you. How dare you tell me what to do after all the shit you put me though?

I take a split second to debate whether or not I want to deal with him tonight. It's probably going to be horrible if I do, and yet, my feet are taking me straight into the eye of the storm.

That was, until the bouncer in the VIP section blocks me.

I look up at him and blink, "hi."

"No sneaking in, love," he mutters.

"Let her through, Sandor," a voice calls, making the said man look over his shoulder and turn back to me. He steps away and unhinges the stanchion, motioning with his head.

I walk through, smile, and nod, "thank you, Sandor."

Sandor ignores me and goes back to his post.

"Hello, baby girl," the blonde says from the bar he's leaned on.

I sit down on the stool next to him and grimace, "hello, bastard."

He shifts on his elbow, "I'll have you know Rhaenyra's children have been legitimized following her marriage to Strong."

I pretend to hum in intrigue as I place my crushed cup next to his martini glass.

"But of course, you wouldn't know that because you were too sick to attend the wedding," he tilts his head, "or so Aemond says."

I shrug, "Aemond and I broke up."

"A mutual break up?" he quirks his brows, "I doubt that. What'd he do?"

I narrow my eyes at him, "what do you mean?"

"Oh come on," he waves a hand, "you wouldn't let me touch that kid with a 6 foot pole. What? Did he fuck your sister? Think it was you?"

I cringe, "that's something more on brand for you, Daemon."

"I'll have you know, I have perfect eyesight," he takes his glass, "my nephew however..."

I glare at him.

Daemon sniggers before he sips his drink, "see. Even now you're on his side."

I lick my lips in annoyance, "I'm not on his side."

"Worry not, darling," he turns and motions to the bartender, "the wraith is awfully attached to you." The bartender walks over. "You'll at least see him grovel and beg for you-- a cosmo," he turns to me, "right?"

I clench my jaw then shrug.

Daemon turns back to the bartender and nods. The bartender mutters 'you got it' before walking off.

"He broke up with me."

Daemon takes his glass but sets it down before he even takes a sip.

I look at him and feel irritation rise up my throat. I cough it out with a- "is that really so hard to imagine?"

He tilts his head, "I'm confused. You want me to think this makes sense?"

"I want you to remember how you laughed when Aemond's dad called me a bootlicking bimbo-"

Daemon chortles immediately.

"- and how you always remarked on the dresses I wore whenever I was around. Aemond's grandpa ended up giving me shit for it!"

"Woah," Daemon wheezes, "okay. Otto is a true cunt, to you especially, but can you blame me? You truly are distracting in those dresses, darling." He motions to my body.

I jump off my seat and shove his shoulder, "fuck you, Daemon. He called me a harlot when he thought I wasn't looking."

The next second, I'm walking away fuming, but the sniggering moron stands and grabs my arm, "look. It's funny because it's stupid."

I whip my head back and yank my arm away, "fuck you!"

"Why are you so bothered by what Viserys and that old fuck think anyway?" he gives a lopsided smile that didn't reach his eyes, "it's not-"

"Why would I care about what my boyfriend's father and grandfather think of me?!"

"Ex," Daemon shakes his head and rolls his eyes, "and you and I both know it's not true."

"It's true to them," I point to nowhere as I feel my eyes water at the memory.

"It's really not," he mutters, digging his hand in the inner pocket of his coat, " 's just some shit they said cos they're pissed."

I turn away from him and tilt my head back, fanning my face as I refused to shed a tear, especially in front of him.

Daemon watches and places a cigarette between his lips, "I know big brother didn't like the fact he couldn't find a reason to hate you."

I clench my jaw as I glare at Daemon.

He pulls out a lighter and opens it. The stick in the corner of his mouth wiggles as he speaks, "he had plans to match Aemond with a Baratheon girl."

A line forms between my brows.

He lights his stick and takes a deep swig of nicotine. Smoke comes out of his nose and mouth, making my face contort further. Daemon then swipes his thumb on the crinkle on my forehead, "trust me, Baratheons are boorish."

I feel my lips quiver.

Aemond told me not to worry about her.

I feel like my insides were being ripped out.

Don't you do it. Don't you dare fucking cry over-

"Baby girl-"

"Don't you fucking call me that, asshole," I hiss as saltwater begins to pour from my eyes.

Daemon feels immensely uncomfortable, "want a puff?"

I begin to feel my eyes burn because of my makeup.

I have to get out of here.

He sighs and rubs the tears off my skin before turning to the bar where the Cosmo was just placed. "If you're gonna cry over Targaryen," he mutters as he pulls out his wallet and settles his bill. He turns back to me, handing me he drink.

I do not get it from him and he sighs again as he places it down. I cringe at the smell of his smoke. He continues, "wouldn't it be better if it was because of my dick?"

My face contorts.

He draws in another deep breath and pulls the stick out of his mouth using two fingers.

"Fuck you, Daemon," I growl before turning away.

"My place then?" he follows after.

Daemon follows me outside.

I am booking a ride home on my phone

"Oh, don't be boring," he snatches the object and places it over his head.

"Daemon!"

"Don't worry," he looks up and cancels my order, "I already called one."

"Give it back!"

"Oh, come on, you want to wallow in your self-pity or have it fucked out of you?" he offers, "besides, the car will be here in five."

My eye twitches, "how is that even possible?!"

"Shortcuts, babes," he mutters as he bites his cigarette and adjusts it in his lips. He tilts his head, "you make a shortcut for a ride, put it on your homescreen, give it a push-- gods, maybe you are a bimbo."

I grunt and snatch his cigarette and put it out on his chest. He yelps and pulls back as it surely burned through his shirt.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I fake-pout, "I thought you were done with that."

Daemon glares at me as he brushes his shirt off, "oh, you want to mark me, do you, little girl?"

"I don't want-" the words retreat into my mouth when he marches over and I find myself pushed against the streetlight. His arms are on my sides, hands gripping the pole behind me.

"Don't want what?" Daemon leans in, close enough that I can smell the cigarette smoke and the cologne on him. It was an overpowering smell.

I feel my body warm as he laughs at my silence.

"You know, I always knew you'd burn Aemond's fingers. I just didn't know he'd pussy out and let go if you got too hot."

Daemon looks past me and leans back, taking my hand as a car pulls up, "I happen to bask in dragon fire."

"How original."

I let him drag me back to his place. I let him get under my skin, into me. The night was filled with spiteful remarks, mocking laughs, and rough kisses, but it was also surprisingly filled with whispered praises, reassuring touches, and unbroken promises of pleasure.

It was no competition though, and in the first place, I should not have been comparing one or the other. It was an unfortunate reflex as of late. And it was easy for my mind to think him when his uncle's hair fell on his face almost the same way his did.

Gods they even said the same shit, it was fucking with my head.

I ended up saying Aemond instead of Daemon at one point, and spent what felt like hours being punished for the mistake.

It was clear, twice that after it was rectified by Daemon, he wasn't Aemond. He was nothing like him. Daemon was a good fuck but we didn't do it in his bedroom. He didn't want to hold me after, nor did he make an effort to clean me (or himself) up. He called me good girl but didn't say I love you, for obvious reasons. He made my flesh sting but made no efforts to soothe. And when he marked my skin and called me his, I didn't feel like I belonged, I felt like I was owned.

He did leave me tired in his guestroom before getting up to sleep in his own bed. But I was not tired enough to resist the itch of getting on the internet the moment I woke up. I felt like I was on autopilot as my fingers moved.

I had to hold back a sound when I saw Floris Baratheon's post of her in the Targaryen estate's garden. I shudder at the caption. Luncheon date my ass.

Oh gods.

I could feel tears building up as I opened a browser and looked up Targaryen and Baratheon.

Relationship?

My heart was pounding. I sit up and push the sheets off me while I scroll through article after article.

"Oh, good," the door creaks, "you're up. Are you the one that's allergic to nuts or was that someone else entirely?"

I look up at Daemon as he peeks through the door of his guest room. His hair is damp, signifying a fresh shower. He walks in when I full on break into a sob. He curses then blurts, "does something hurt? Do you need something?"

"Aemond is with Floris?"

He stops in his tracks, "what?"

I drop my phone and retreat under the covers, "he told me he never even spoke to her, and now they're together?"

Daemon purses his lips then sucks in a breath, propping his hands right above the band of his red boxers, "right," he rubs his bare belly, "you want breakfast or not? Should I use almond milk? It's the only thing I got."

"FUCK YOU!" I growl and chuck a pillow at him.

The pillow misses Daemon by a mile and he stares at it as it flies off to the side. He turns back to me then wipes his nose, "fine. I'm putting the almond milk," he walks off, raising a finger, "also, I have work in an hour. If you stay, know your dress is on the couch. My cleaning lady might do something with it though."

Daemon's bare feet tingle against the cold tiles of the penthouse. He sniffles and turns on the fireplace with a remote before heading back to the kitchen.

One of the few things he could actually cook was oatmeal, and he was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself.

He furrows his brows when he hears the telltale button sounds of the front door. He turns to the digital clock on the wall and wonders if the cleaning lady was coming in early today.

Daemon is pulling out some fruit from the fridge when he hears a rather unwelcomed voice call out to him, "good morning, Uncle." Or should he say welcomed?

He looks at the him, unable to hold back his smirk, and sets down the things on the counter, "fancy a bowl of oats, Aemond?"

"Father instructed me to get the Harrenhal files from you."

Daemon chews on a raspberry as he mixes the pot of oats, "that's the longest no I've ever heard."

Aemond watches Daemon grab two bowls. He shakes his head, "I've already eaten."

" 'S not for you, darlin'," he retorts as he turns the stove off and pour the content.

In that moment, Aemond looks around and spots a glimmering dress on the couch. He involuntarily thinks it looks familiar but thinks little of it as he turns back to Daemon, "I didn't realize you had company."

Daemon snorts, "she's a feisty one. You'd know about that, right?"

Aemond does not react as his uncle grins.

He points to his chest, "burnt me with my own cigarette," he smirks, but it doesn't last. "Also, tell your old man if he asks the cleaning lady for my passcode again, I'm breaking his teeth."

"I'm just here for the Harrenhal files."

Daemon eyes Aemond before pouring the food into the bowl, "why? I'm coming to the meeting with it in an hour."

The latter tilts his head, "father mentioned you got into an argument and thought you might not show."

"So," the former puts the pot down with much more force than necessary, "he had his son break into my house?"

"I was going to wake you if you were asleep."

"And if I wasn't here?" Daemon leans on the counter.

Aemond shrugs, "I'd look for it myself."

Daemon is about to burst into a fit of High Valyrian curses up until his name is called out. Him and Aemond turn to the side.

"I showered in your bathroom and now I'm stealing your shit!" I call out as I rub my hair with a towel I found in his guestroom.

I look at my puffy eyes and purple neck marks in the mirror in his bedroom and hear Daemon call out, "what shit?!"

I go through his closet and grab a the first shirt I spot, "your watch!"

I vaguely hear him chuckle, "I don't have watches in my bedroom-

"Pity," I mutter under my breath.

"- but feel free to get whatever clothing you want!"

A generous statement, Aemond thinks. He used to watch his uncle bring back different women all the time when he still lived at the estate with them. He never once was like this though. He watches Daemon as he chuckles. He finds it immensely bizarre that his uncle seems so giddy. He's beckoned by him again, "sure you don't want a bowl, wraith?"

Aemond grumbles at the nickname, he always hated it, and merely clenches his jaw.

He shrugs, "suit yourself."

"Will you give me the files or not, Daemon?"

Daemon looks at him before grabbing two spoons from the drawer, "fine. Want them so bad? I'll give them to you."

"Thank you," he mutters in relief.

"Why don't you take a seat, scarecrow," Daemon adds, "you're going to spook the girl."

Aemond rolls his eyes as he moves over to the living space. He sits on the one sofa chair and eyes the red dress across him for a moment. He then looks out the window before pulling out his phone.

Daemon watches his nephew walk off. He holds back a laugh as he turns back to the oatmeal. He practically combusts with excitement when he hears shuffling from the left.

He looks up at me as I walk over to him.

"Morning, baby girl," Daemon coos and crosses his arms, "my stolen shirt suits you."

Aemond clears his throat involuntarily upon hearing this. He couldn't have whispered? He fishes for his earpods in his pocket and curses himself for not bringing it.

My eyes take in how Daemon's chest bulged. He takes in my puffy eyes as I retort, "want it back? You look cold."

Aemond finds himself eyeing the dress again after hearing that. Why does her voice sound like that?

Daemon lips quirk. He grabs the shirt I was wearing and pulls me toward him. I collide with his chest and his hand slips under the fabric, "naughty girl. You'd offer such a thing when you're not even wearing underwear?"

This is definitely not something Aemond signed up for.

I raise a brow at Daemon, "when did you become such a prude?"

He chuckles and places a hand on my shoulder. His thumb rubs the marks he left on my neck, "you want me to fuck you the counter?"

Right. Aemond stands from the couch and turns to Daemon, "just tell me where the file is and I'll get it myself."

I jolt and grab at Daemon upon hearing that.

Daemon breaks into a laugh.

I whisper-yell, "there's someone here?!"

Daemon pushes my hair back as he hears the sound of footsteps approaching. He looks over his shoulder, "actually, now that I think about it, I think the Harrenhal files are in the file cabinet in my office."

Aemond's fury blazes then dissipates in an instant. He is frozen in his spot when he locks eyes with me.

My body has a rather instant reaction to him. My mouth watered as though I was about to vomit. My hold on Daemon is released.

Aemond's mind was racing as he eyes my appearance. His throat constricts, eye almost flinching as he notices my pert nipples and the dark hues across my neck.

Daemon is the only one not petrified. He rubs my side before pulling away to get his bowl of oats. He eats a spoonful before muttering to Aemond, "it's in the bottom drawer, methinks."

Aemond completely ignores this, eyes fixed on me, "what the fuck are you doing here?"

Daemon raises a brow, "don't think that's any of your business."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I rebut.

Aemond scoffs, "what am I doing in my uncle's home?"

I scoff too, "it's not like you two were ever close, Aemond."

Daemon looks between us as he eats, "this is really good."

"So what?!" Aemond barks, "you're fucking him to get back at me?! A rather pitiful play on revenge, don't you think?"

The ferocity of his tone stabs through my chest. He was never one to raise his voice, and hearing his voice was already painful as it is. I am glad I have the wits to snark back, "why would I need to get back at you? You've been nothing to me for the past two months. I'm doing this because I want to."

Daemon licks his lips as he unabashedly chuckles.

Aemond clenches his fists.

I begin to heave heavily.

The longest of moments pass.

Daemon catches the way I begin to falter. He pushes the other bowl of oatmeal towards me, "eat before it gets cold."

I turn to Daemon after grabbing the bowl. I immediately stuff my mouth. I meant to give a really exaggerated reaction, but I find myself momentarily distracted by how genuinely good the oatmeal tasted. I mumble, "... this is really good."

Daemon smiles, "it is, isn't it?"

I tense when Aemond calls out my name.

Daemon's smile disappears as he turns to his nephew.

"Let's talk about it outside," Aemond mutters.

Daemon scoffs, "if she wanted to talk to you outside, she'd have said so by now, don't you think?"

"This has nothing to do with you, Daemon," Aemond rebuts.

I flinch when Daemon drops his bowl carelessly on the counter and straightens up, "this has everything to do with me. She went home with me; she's in my house, wearing my shirt, being demanded things by my stupid nephew, who, by the way, is now leaving."

"She's my ex-girlfriend," Aemond's neck strains. He steps forward.

"Yes, she was your girlfriend and now she wants nothing to do with you-- get out!"

The decay of Daemon's loud voice merely intensifies the tension in the room. I cannot express the relief I felt at the sound of withdrawing footsteps. I let out a sigh when I hear the door bang shut and bury my face in my hands.

Daemon shifts in his place and looks down at me, "pretty satisfying, no?"

"WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME AEMOND WAS HERE?!" I explode and attack him with punches.

[the-true-bastard-of-the-barrel]

Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands

Unless you are here with money or bargaining power, I’m going to ask you to leave now before I force you too.

The Crows (the group that miraculously is still all alive that I, unfortunately, have to lead):

Inej ( @knife-wife-inej ): My biggest investment, aka the Wraith. We have lots of… history.

Jesper ( @the-sharp-shooter ): The best sharpshooter in Ketterdam. He does however have a gambling addiction which is not great for business.

Wylan ( @sunshine-bombs-n-arson ): The Crows bomb expert. He is a good person to keep around.

Nina ( @thisishowtobeaheartbreaker ): The Crows heartrender. She is a persuasive lady.

Matthias ( @the-matthias-helvar ): Ex-Drüskelle. He is very strict but I can appreciate that.

Kuwei ( @justnhaban ): He is not technically a crow. We had to rescue him for the ice court heist.

Connections:

Alina Starkov ( @the-sol-koroleva ): The Sun Summoner. Good connection to have in case of emergencies.

The Darkling ( @the-black-heretic ): I do not enjoy your company. You tried to kill Inej.

Zoya Nazyalensky ( @therealstormwitch ): She’s worked with us before.

Nikolai Lantsov ( @the-real-privateer-nikolai ): The King of Ravka. Connection.

Genya Saffin ( @thegenyasafin ): The greatest tailor in all of Ravka. She helped us out with some bad situations.

David Kostyk ( @daavidd-kostyk ): A Durast.

Hanne Brum ( @hanne-not-rasmus ): A friend of Nina’s.

acc run by @book-nerd-emi ooc will be small text!!

[angrelysimpping]

DoL x Outlast Trials

Reader (you, your); Avery, Kylar, Whitney, Wren, Remy, Robin, Bailey, Sydney, Harper, Doren, Winter, Sirris, Mason, River, Ivory Wraith, Leighton, Briar, Eden, Alex, Jordan, Landry, Niki, Darryl, Anxious Guard, Relaxed Guard, Methodical Guard, Veteran Guard (they/them)

No real structure, just ramblin

Thaaaaank yooooou 🩷 @letstalktea 🩷 for yappin with me abt this :3

Contents: implied dub and noncon but nothing explicit; canon typical violence for outlast? Nothing real explicit

Words: ~2.1k

Avery

Prime asset Avery who doesn't have a weapon, not like the others. Just their own two hands. A mother/father "figure." You just have to submit to their every whim. It could be so enjoyable for you if you learned how to just grin and bear it. Balancing getting caught by Avery, risking their wrath, with the stamps and coins you sometimes find stuffed in your pockets after encounters.

God, berserker Avery? Raging constantly. (As they all do but it somehow feels extra with Avery.) Reaching and grabbing and pulling. Manages to get you under them, breathing ragged as they grip you by the calves. Maybe, maybe, maybe, if you relax in their hold, let them spread your legs uncomfortably wide and slot themself between your thighs, they'll let you leave when they're done with you. Or, well, toss you to the side and let you drag yourself into a corner to recover? At least this way you'll survive.

Kylar

Kylar is just another regent, small and easily overlooked. So quiet, all the time. You don't expect them to corner you during a trial, thought it unfathomable that someone like them could overpower you. Yet now here you are, trying to hold back any sounds that try to escape you because it's better to let Kylar do what they want, small hands tucked between your thighs and stuttered breaths in your ear, then get caught. Helps (“helps”) that they use the barricade rig, keeping you somewhat trapped/protected. Kylar is also scarry good at knowing when someone is an imposter, but only for you. That fact seemed odd before they cornered you.

Whitney

Whitney as a regent. Fucking cunt who won't come to your rescue during a trial even though they have the stun rig maxed out. Unless, of course, you'll give them head in when in the common areas. Jokes about striking up a deal with "That freak, baby boots" and there is a non zero chance that cocaine has actually gone missing during Barbi's trials. Has done lewd poses with the mannequins, especially on Gooseberry levels. Has died the most to Coyle. Takes way too many dumb risks trying to taunt the officer. You have strong arm Whitney, your bricks break after one hit idiot.

Whitney as a berserker, though. Hmmmm.

Wren

Wreeeeen. Appearing in odd trials. How did they get here? Oh, they have their ways. Cool smiles and sharp eyes. Trades you for this and that. Technically a regent but you hardly ever see them in the sleep quarters, you've never run a trial with them, and the ex-pop don't seem to mind them that much. You've never seen them with a Prime Asset, tho. They seem to swap between having a jammer rig and a blinding rig, a good tell for when they're hanging around a trial is if you spot a green mine and you know you and none of the other regents in the trial have placed one yet. They also like to hang around bonus rooms. Pure vibes: feel like the Pitcher would either never enter the trial while you're near Wren or seems to always come into the trial when you decide to meet Wren. No in between.

Remy

Prime asset Remy, whip in hand as they stalk after disobedient cattle. Il Bambino is a top client of theirs, trials decorated similarly yet Remy's cattle seem more...cared for. Donated on, even. You could be like them, much better off than some of the other fates that could await you, hm? Oddly enough, it seems Wren is more likely to show up in Remy's trials…

Robin

Screamer Robin. They just, they need to sleep. Please let them sleep. They really, really don't mean to lash out at you when they're startled awake. But it....it feels so good to have you against them. Please, just let them keep you here, just for a bit. And if...if you feel them pressing against you, their hips rocking, don't pay it any mind.

Regent Robin switches between healing rig and jammer. Always tries to be helpful regardless of their relations with other regents but their spirit slowly gets whittled away. You gotta check in on them.

Bailey

Hehe, Bailey. Prime asset Bailey who claims you owe them a long overdue debt and they'll take it out of your hide. I know it's canon that Bailey has a gun but God, brass knuckles? More limited in their reach but extra dangerous up close. Might just let you slip away if you offer up an item they like. Might not. Doesn't hurt to find out though, does it? (It does) Shares the orphanage living space with Gooseberry.

Or regent Bailey. Shakes you down in the sleep quarters. They have an "in" with the guards, make sure your sweet ass doesn't get put into too many trials. Or, so they say.

Sydney

Sydney. Sweet, sweet regent Sydney. Shaking as they run up to you, squirming in a prime asset's grip, to slam their healing rig. Sprints with you to cover so you can get the most out of their rig, slipping into a double locker with you, their hands shaking as they find yours in the dark. They almost give your position away when you bring their hand up to your mouth, lips brushing over their slender fingers, and they involuntarily take in a sharp breath. They seem extra nervous in trials where they know Leighton is around and will stick closer to you during them.

Harper

Harper as the gasser, of course. Excuse me, Pusher, or whatever. (I don't believe your medical degree is valid and you can't convince me otherwise.) But, well, the gas is a last option for them. They'd rather pin you down, force you to watch their pen sway back and forth. Look into their eyes, listen to their voice. You're doing so, so well in the trials. You'll continue to do well, won't you? But first be a dear for them and open your mouth on three...two...one, there we go.

Ooooor regent Harper. They hypnotise fellow regents but they seem to take a particular fondness for you. They usually use their skills in hypnotism to protect themself, make other regents more likely to protect them. But you? They like making you wonder away from others during the trial, seek out a safe place where you greet Harper with dazed smiles and spread legs. The researchers keep a close eye on them, seeing how Harper's hypnotism interacts with their programming. Harper would favor the blinding rig, I thinks.

Ivory Wraith

Ivory as the Skinner Man when you do get gassed by Harper. Rip

Teachers

Idk WHERE the teachers are, maybe part of the Murkoff staff?

Doren

I know in my heart of hearts Doren gets a good laugh if they hear someone call Franco Barbi “baby shoes, never worn.” i think they'd be keeping track of regents with big “personalities.” Maybe also provide “literature” for regents to consume in the sleeping quarters.

Winter

Winter helps set up the traps. Has some more “unusual” that they'd like to try. Some regents can volunteer with their traps testing for a few extra stamps and maybe a few less trials for a couple of days.

Mason

Mason, Mason, Mason. A young researcher? Makes the physical hazards (toxic shock, winter kills)?

River

River is so calm and collected when they're working but jumps when a regent throws themself at the gate toward them. Can fight off regents but they can't look them in the eyes after witnessing some of the things the regents go through in the trials.

Sirris

Mmmm, Sirris watching their own child go through the trials? No, I doubt it. If Sirris is a researcher then Sydney is like, an intern or something. Sirris makes the gas. Sydney as an intern seems to be a bit too….interested in the regents and Sirris tries to keep them from the areas where there's only simple fencing keeping the regents separated from the researchers.

If Sydney was somehow a regent while Sirris was a researcher, they'd keep an extra close eye on them. Especially when Sydney seems to take a liking to you. They almost think it a bit of a shame how regents are sterilized on intake but, hm, well, there are probably was to reverse it if the need arose somehow.

The teachers attitudes toward you change depending on your actions. Volunteer for Winter's tests; do well in Mason's environments; read Doren's propaganda books; don't throw yourself at River or maybe yank back a regent who tries; get used to Sirri's drug (and hope they never see you trying to interact with Sydney)

Leighton

Yeah they're decoupled from the teachers, sorry?

Fuck me, Leighton as a prime asset. The Headteacher, here to set you on a path of morals or however Murkoff wants to spin it. I think they'd share the orphanage’s school area with Gooseberry. Weapon is a paddle ><

Or, fuck me, Leighton as a night hunter? Singing “do you see what I see” as they pull you over a knee.

Head researcher Leighton. Keeping all the other teacher/researchers in check. Enough power to pull out regents from Gen pop for their own “tests"

Briar

Goddddd Briar. Yeah, they're still running a brothel. Fork over some stamps, some tokens, whatever you've got, and they'll tell you what you can afford. They…still seem to have their wine. They've gotta know someone, have some connections (Leighton). And they'll use those connections against you if they think you're cheating them. Their brothel gig isn't…technically sanctioned, but it's pointedly ignored. Besides, easier for the doctors to keep tabs on who is fucking who if there's a brothel like set up going. Though, really, they don't want there to be any sex among the regents at all. The brothel also helps keep tabs on who's still seeking out sex with fellow regents.

Mmmmm, or prime asset Briar? Trying to drag an ungrateful whore back to where they belong? Probably has bits and pieces of connections to the other Prime Assets in one way or another. It'd be so so fucking funny if their weapon was a pimp cane oh my god.

Eden

Eden as a night hunter :3 fucking kicks down doors every single time. Doesn't matter if it's locked or not. Extra rough when they grab you, tending to haul you over their shoulder and take you further into their sanctuary of shadows. They want you disoriented.

Alex

Alex as another regent. Also a stun rig user but more likely they'll come help you out even if you're not on the best of terms. Seems to have a harder time in Remy's trials.

Jordan

Jordan, Jordan, Jordan. Hm. Prime asset. Bringing you into the right religious path. Their weapon is a flog that seems just as much for self flagellation. Shares the Gooseberry's chapple at the orphanage. The worst part is Jordan seems so…nice. They're truly sincere in their want to “help you.” Violently jerks away from you if you grab at your chest or slot a leg between their thighs. Seems to stun them as bad as a full power stun rig. Though, They turn extra violent for a duration.

Guards

Oh, the Prison Guards work as Murkoff guards.

Anxious

Cooing at Anxious to come a bit closer to the fence, you won't bite.

Relaxed

Relaxed almost right against the fence, smiling wide.

Methodical

Methodical seemingly watching you without interest. You can read them easier over time.

Veteran

Veteran sneering as the push you away from trying to reach through the fence.

Darryl

Darryl 🥺 Regent? Kind, but their freeze response is so strong you often have to help them out of trouble. Switches between rigs but favors blinding and x-ray. More likely to use the x-ray rig if Leighton is a night hunter.

Or, a grabber (puncer? Is that theor offical name?). Reaching out from under desks, jumping from barrels, lurching from lockers and closets. Stay with them. Don't leave them. Please, please. No, no, don't scream, don't cry. Don't bring someone else here. Just, stay with them?

Landry

Landry could work similarly to Dorris. Though, I think it'd be interesting if they had you looking for certain things in trials, lil side objectives (Do your dailies fokes) for them to either pay you or maybe slip you a few exclusive amps. Maybe even a prescription. Or straight up lore files too, I'd take that.

Niki

You spot Niki around, on the other side of the glass. They always have a camera around their neck, expression blank as they move around the facilities. They're rarely seen in trials, but they pop in from time to time. Sometimes photographs are needed, and Niki has to be close by. That doesn't fully explain why sometimes you think you see them pointing their camera at you while you're in the sleep quarters and common areas…

[overthinkit-underscore]

AN EMPIRE OF FRIGID NOTHING (SPECTRE)

"Which came first, the Chicken or the Egg?"

There are two major ways to interpret how Voice Hatching works:

The Voices Spawn. The manner in which the Decider behaves, the things they experience, and the trauma they endure influence the Voice hatched upon their death. Their personality, philosophy, and perspective are informed by what Quiet collectively has gone through. The Egg (previous iterations of the Decider) hatches into The Chicken (Voice).

The Voices Always Existed. The options provided to a player are reactions to their environment and circumstances, adulterated with the impulses and personality of nascent Voices waiting to hatch. The Chicken (Voice) lays The Egg (options the Decider picked in the previous Chapter).

There are more than two ways to interpret how Voices operate, and most you ask this question to will say something in-between these two black and white options. Ultimately, it's inarguable that a Voice is always influenced in some manner by events preceding their hatching. It is not that fact of influence the debate is centered on, but the interpretable extent. The fact is openly supported by the text.

Certain Voices will take credit for actions taken in the previous Chapter (ex: Cold claiming to have killed Damsel in Burned!Grey) or the previous life (ex: every Voice, bar Hero & Cheated, in Razor's Chapter IIIs), and many others will remember events long before they hatch (ex: Smitten recalling the entire narrative up to Chapter III - The Thorn, Cheated recalling everything that happens before Chapter III - The Wraith).

With this background information in mind, we can examine the events in Chapter I - The Hero and The Princess leading into Chapter II - The Spectre mindful of how specific choices made by the Decider or certain events they encounter may influence Voice of the Cold moving forward.

[FOR CONTEXT: [Take the blade] once at the cabin, hereby accepting the Narrator's premise and following His word.] Voice of the Hero - She’s so coldly beautiful… is she really a threat to the world?

The Narrator - You step forward, your grip tightening as you steel your resolve. The Narrator - You lunge forward without a moment’s hesitation. The Narrator - You feel flesh easily give way and look down to see your blade already sinking deep into her heart. Voice of the Hero - But is it over? Really over? - Of course it is. She’s dead.

The Narrator - You did kill someone. Greater good or not, something would be very wrong with you if you didn’t feel at least a little bad. But it was for the greater good. One of these days, that will sink in and help ease your guilty conscience.

The Narrator - You open the cabin door, ready to return to a world saved from certain doom.

The Narrator - Only, a world saved from certain doom isn’t what you find. Instead, what you find is nothing at all. Where a lush forest stood mere minutes ago, the only thing in front of you now is the vast emptiness of some place far away. Voice of the Hero - What… happened? The Narrator - Everyone is fine, it’s just that you and the cabin are now far away from them. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe here. This is good. Everyone is happy. You’ll be happy.

- I was kind of hoping I’d get a better ending for saving the world. The Narrator - This isn’t an ending. In fact, now that the Princess has been slain, endings are a thing of the past. No… this is the beginning of eternity. Your reward. The Narrator - This is what’s best for everyone. Trust me. The Narrator - Time passes. You can’t be sure if it’s days, or months, or years or even decades. It’s all a wonderful, boring blur. You’ve never been happier.

Voice of the Hero - Pst! Hey! We’re not just going to stay here forever right? Voice of the Hero - Are we really happy, or is He just telling us that we are? - Hmm, okay maybe I’m not happy. And I’m not just saying that because you’re the last person I talked to. Voice of the Hero - Good, because I have an idea to get us out of here. Though you’re probably not going to like it. Voice of the Hero - The blade. We can use the blade to get out of this.

The Narrator - Do you hear that? It wants to take this happiness away from you. It wants this wonderful place to end. Voice of the Hero - Do you not? There’s more for us to do, and the only way for us to do it is to take that blade and use it. The Narrator - Don’t you dare. - Anything to get out of this hell. Voice of the Hero - Thank you. The Narrator - I made this happy little place for you! Is this not a good enough reward for saving the world? An eternity of bliss? You… you ingrate! The Narrator - Fine. Whatever. For the first time since time stopped meaning anything, you throw open the door to the basement and walk down the stairs. The Narrator - You pick up the blade, you stab yourself, and you die. The Narrator - The end. Nice knowing you.

a set of directions from the Narrator, dutifully carried out by the Decider without the slightest hint of doubt, ignoring their conscience until faced with an utterly detestable "reward" for their compliance. critically, the timelessness perceived in that moment between opening the door to stare into the abyss and slaying oneself to be rid of the stagnation is so dilated in Quiet's perception that the Princess's corpse is reduced to a skeleton by the time the Decider plucks the Pristine Blade from its ribcage.

i could commentate further on this, or i could include one particularly noteworthy dialogue screenshot ---

- (Explore) Wouldn’t ‘using’ the blade… you know, kill us? Wouldn’t we be dead? The Narrator - How astute. You’re absolutely correct. Using the blade to kill yourself would kill you and you shouldn’t do it. Voice of the Hero - In a sense, we’d die, but looking at things from another angle, are we even really alive anymore? This place… it’s nothing! It’s absolutely nothing. It’s just the same thing, constantly, forever. Voice of the Hero - I know this is out there, but trust me. I know using the blade will work.

--- and let Cold speak for himself on the matter:

[FOR CONTEXT: in response to the Narrator saying we're only here because we died, which probably only happened because we didn't listen to Him] Voice of the Cold - Oh, we listened to you plenty. We slew the Princess, just like you asked us to. And then you locked us away in an empty void for eternity. So we slew ourselves, too.

[FOR CONTEXT: in response to the Narrator asking what would've happened to the world we left behind had we failed to slay the Princess] Voice of the Cold - It doesn’t matter, because we didn’t fail to slay her, and if she’s really back, which I doubt, it’ll be just as easy to do it again. But after that nasty trick you pulled on us, maybe she’s not the only one around here in need of slaying.

[FOR CONTEXT: in the cabin with Spectre, talking to the Narrator about the ghost-Princess after having talked to Him previously in the woods about the looping] The Narrator - What do you mean, ‘after’? Voice of the Cold - You already know what we mean, don’t you? So why don’t you go ahead and tell us? Are you going to try and lock us away in a timeless void again? Because I didn’t much care for that. The Narrator - I’m not going to lock you anywhere. Voice of the Cold - What an interesting choice of emphasis.

- (Explore) If anything, the world ended after I slew her. When I tried to leave, everything was gone. Voice of the Hero - That’s a good point. How do we know we didn’t have things backwards? Maybe slaying the Princess was what ended the world, not the other way around. Voice of the Cold - Yes, maybe this whole thing was a trick to get us to end the world. And now we get to go through the whole charade again wholly aware of what’s waiting for us at the end. Voice of the Cold - But that’s assuming she’s alive in that cabin. We did kill her, after all.

Voice of the Cold - This is boring. He’s clearly not interested in talking, so let’s just do as He says and maybe He’ll stop bothering us.

Cold is interesting because, as I'll point out later (both in this analysis and whenever i seek out Cold's other appearances), you need to read between the lines and in the negative spaces quite often to gauge what he's thinking. here, though, back in the woods again, Cold's an open book. "we listened to you and you locked us in an empty void for eternity. i really didn't care for that. it was a 'nasty trick.' we slew ourselves." note that Cold isn't expressing regret or remorse for anything that happened. he doesn't feel guilty about [Slaying the Princess], and he's outright convinced we're capable of doing it again. note twice, though, that Cold doesn't think we need to. he's fully convinced that her death sticks, even if ours didn't. he isn't readying up, either. it's just a job to him. (Something he was asked to do. a task, some dirty work. he holds no real opinion on the act of [Slaying the Princess], not here, and not now.) A job that, as he's seen, has no good rewards. In fact, the end result of completing this task is not something he wants at all. But he also really, really, really wants the Narrator to shut up, and trying to talk to Him isn't getting anything done.