#I won't tag the other one because even though I think this is completely positive towards him

[silver-horse]

Wee,people are already making comparisons between Anders & Gale...which will probably lead to a butt load of Anders want from haters. Love that for us.🙄

Never been more glad for the block button as it's gonna be gettin' a workout as people are already saying "please don't let him be another Anders". Petty as it sounds, if he ends up worse then I might feel a little vindictive satisfaction if it's well executed.

I find the comparisons so funny because Gale and Anders are actually not at all similar characters. Other than magic + cats + bisexual. That's it. They are very surface level traits that could apply to many people from a fantasy setting. They are completely different in every other aspect, their background, their situation, their goals and so on.

Because of this, from what I've noticed, Anders fans don't overlap with Gale fans. (at least if we mean fan as "this is no.1 or no.2 fave from this game) So lots of Gale fans are certainly making the comparison in a derogatory way. "please don't be like Anders" because they hate Anders.

Anyway... Gale IS worse. He has been from the start. (I say this as someone who enjoys his story and character and I think he is only becoming more interesting.) But recently some Gale fans had surprising reactions... so many Gale romancers say larian is "changing the character". Mates, what game have you been playing? Gale has been a mysterious and dark character from the start. He makes a deal with the devil during early access etc. Insert this meme. lol

Anders is fighting for human rights. It's fine to dislike him, you don't like his methods or the ending or his romance path or his personality. Regardless, he is an extremely selfless character, a healer and also part of an oppressed group. He got really screwed up by life. He had little choice in everything that happened to him before. He was born into a bad situation. That is a fact, even if you think he is a cunt or made terrible decisions when he finally had a choice.

Gale is a wizard prodigy who mingled with the highest elite in a world where his magic is only a positive. His goals have been self-serving (regardless of which backstory we believe). His own choices led to his own bad situation. However he is now, in the present, a nice guy who wants to atone and wants to help people. I suspect that because of this, Gale will always be viewed in a better light and this is why his fans are surprised by the bad things he might have done. You know the rule "show! don't tell!" people's impressions are always more affected by what's happening on screen. Rather than whatever they tell you and what the story alludes to in banter or camp convos.

Also I suspect that in BG3 we will get multiple endings for each companion. And not just "side with him or against him". I think whatever the nicer ending is, that will determine how Gale is viewed. Because it could turn out shit for any of the characters. It's the same in Dragon Age, nobody judges characters based on events that only happen when their approval is low or we actively pushed them towards that ending.

Plus BG3 is a much less political story compared to Dragon Age. I think (hopefully) the drama and arguments shouldn't get that bad. Or at least the drama will be around the usual stupid 10 year olds arguing "how dare you ship them with x when I ship them with y?" That is already happening...

So lol... the extreme hate against Anders is not going anywhere. They probably won't have some sort of realisation that they also like a complicated wizard.

[scoobydoodean]

I have 2 spn accounts, a Deancentric blog that ships Destiel and another account that unintentionally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. So one blog follows majority Deangirl blogs and the other incidentally follows a lot of Samgirl blogs. And here's the major difference I've noticed on the different dashboards.

Deangirl dashboard: Great meta analysis. Beautiful art. Level 1 and 2 headcanons (largely based in canon). Pro-Dean. Stumble across reblogs of Deancrit. Bitter Deangirl blogging. Generally fair portrayal and discussion of the positive and negative traits and actions of Dean, Sam and Cas. Deanhater anons.

Samgirl dashboard: An entirely different pool of beautiful art. Whole lotta woobie!Sam art where Dean is his abuser. Deancrit about Dean being an abuser. Bitter Samgirl blogging about how people will find any excuse to hate Sam. "How can anyone be Samcrit he has done nothing wrong ever." Level 5 headcanons (you literally ignored canon to make that up). More about how Dean is Sam's abuser. So many posts about how awful Samcrit is. "Do Deangirls really think that Dean cries himself to sleep at night thinking that ppl thinks he doesn't know how to read." I have yet to see any actual Samcrit posts (not even links or reblogs from Sam defenders), not even after literally searching the Samcrit tag for it. The Samcrit tag is full of Samgirls crying about Samcrit and no actual Samcrit. "Samgirls are feral, but we need to be bc of the hate ppl throw Sam's way."

I literally have to block so many people on the incidentally Samgirl dashboard bc I'm not on Tumblr to randomly stumble across a post on how Dean is a toxic stalker who abused Sam by changing Amelia's number in his cellphone. Do you have any idea on why Samgirls seem to feel so attacked all the time even though I literally only ever see *them* attacking Dean?

If you dig deep enough into any fandom, you will encounter people who fetishize "helpless victimhood". Some fandoms attract more people with those particular proclivities than others. Supernatural and Sam in particular attracts people who hold those sorts of aesthetic interests because of his relationship toward accountability versus Dean's.

Dean is a character with an overactive sense of responsibility. He blames himself for the Lindbergh baby and unemployment and every child murdered by a shrtiga from 1990 to 2005 because he went to play an arcade game when he was 10. He also blames himself for things like Jessica dying and Sam not being in school. Other characters pile on this blame frequently. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt (1.18). Ruby tells him (and Sam) that Sam is a weak baby who won't psychologically survive without Dean there to protect him (3.11). Meg alleges that Dean is "dragging Sam everywhere" (1.16). Sam rewrites reality from 1.05 to 1.21 to make Dean responsible for his burning desire for revenge. Cas and Zachariah and Gabriel blame Dean when Sam breaks the last seal because he didn't stop Sam in time. Sam blames Dean for him drinking demon blood first because Dean wasn't there to protect him and then—in a complete 180—because Dean is smothering (4.04, 5.05). Dean generally absorbs blame when it is piled at his feet because he has been blamed for things he couldn't control for most of his life and thus he feels guilty and responsible for things even when him being responsible makes no logical sense. He's never a victim of anything—everything is always on him.

Sam, on the other hand, tends to eventually deflect blame because he can't handle the gnawing bite of it for long. It reminds him too deeply of being left isolated and alone as a child and the feelings of otherness and wrongness he developed through that neglect. When his actions ultimately have consequences he didn't foresee and/or that he finds undesirable, it makes him feel ugly and unaccepted and he can't face it so he eventually finds a way to make what happened someone else's fault—usually Dean's fault. Nothing is ever on him. He's always at least a little bit of a victim and Dean always carries at least partial responsibility for his decisions (1.21, 1.08, 4.04, 5.05, 8.23, 11.01)

In other words, Sam has an under-active sense of responsibility and Dean has an overactive responsibility and that dynamic—driven by their childhood experiences—places them into a vicious cycle of blame being cast onto Dean for Sam's decisions and Dean absorbing it. Dean absorbing it reinforcing the narrative for samgirls with a victimhood fetish that Dean deserves blame and that Sam truly is a helpless baby. They never watch what actually happens on the show to see whether this narrative that Dean is responsible for everything and Sam is a helpless baby lines up with the actual events that occurred onscreen because why would they? That would ruin their enjoyment. Sam isn't interesting to them outside of his capacity to be mourned as some sort of helpless martyr. And yes—they will cry and moan about how horrible and unfair Sam's suffering is, but it isn't because they're having a bad time. They're having a great time. They love thinking about Sam that way. They wouldn't be here blogging about it day in and day out for the last 20 years if they didn't actually want to see exactly what they're seeing.

Related tags of note:

#sams motivations

#taurus sam in the flesh

#In which Sam is not a helpless little waif with his hands cast over his eyes being carried along by the tides of the immutable sea

#sam the hunter

#sams follower/leader false dichotomy

#parentification

[nubisaureus]

sharing is caring

Been having KuroKen x reader brainrot lately so here ya go, some spicy headcanons for y'all!

character(s): Kuroo and Kenma (timeskip)

pairing(s): KuroKen x afab!reader

contents: polyship (Kuroo x Kenma x reader), domestic shenanigans, cuddles, finger fucking, drooling, neck kissing

a/n: YALL DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND THE BRAINROT THATS CONSUMING ME I NEEDED TO WRITE THIS SO BADLY AAAAAAH

not proofread!

Enjoy! <3

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they're both completely smitten with you

Kenma is very clingy; he loves playing games while you two are hugging: he rests his head on your shoulder, while you basically nap on him

you and Kuroo are the ones to remind Kenma to eat and sleep properly: he'd even forget to drink water without you

Kuroo loves to tease Kenma just to get on his nerves; and that is usually done by giving you attention: he gets jealous super easily

of course it's healthy jealousy: they love competing for your attention, and overwhelming you with theirs

Kenma is a very interesting switch; his sex drive isn't high, but when he's in either a dommy mood or subby mood you can rest assured that things are gonna get steamy

as for Kuroo, he loves going with the flow: he definitely isn't a sub, yet doesn't mind when Kenma takes the lead

Kenma loves making you both writhe for him: he'll usually make Kuroo watch as he makes you feel good, then have him be desperate for release

on the other side, when Kuroo takes the lead, he loves to tag team on you with Kenma: they'll overwhelm you so badly that you won't even know left from right

«Look, Kuroo. Look how good they're feeling because of me.» he shoves two fingers in your pussy, making you writhe and ache for him to move. His clothes feel electric on your naked skin: it's humiliating that they are both still in their clothes, in a way; yet it also feels arousing. Besides, they'd get naked soon enough. Kuroo looks at the whole scene, while kneeling in front of the bed: your pussy spread out in front of him, yet he's forbidden from touching you, not until Kenma's sadism issatisfied. His fingers move in and out, while Kuroo is basically drooling: when he's satisfied, he tentatively danglesthem in front of Kuroo, a smirk plastered where his usual poker face stands. «Want a taste, Kuroo?» he teases, and shoves his fingers in his mouth, while Kuroo sucks on them like he was a man dying from thirst who had been offered water on the brink of his death.

just thinking about what transpired that night makes you wet still to this day

you usually end up sandwiched between the two of them when you're watching something or just cuddling

as you're cuddling, Kuroo would usually be the one to support you both: you usually lay on him, your head resting on his chest while he uses one hand to stroke your hair and the other to stroke any part of Kenma's body he can reach from his position

Kenma usually lays on top of you, with his head on your tummy, as he uses your chest as a console stand for his Switch (a/n the console this time BAHAHAHA)

as he plays on top of you, you love running your hands in his hair: you usually undo his bun, untangling his hair, then run your fingers through it, admiring the little goosebumps that surface on his skin, along with the little shivers he desperately tries to hide

that's just one of your cuddling positions though: another one you particularly love is when you rest your head on Kenma's lap, while Kuroo lays on you

in those times, your hands are in his hair, messing his bed head even more, although he doesn't particularly mind: he's laying on you after all

meanwhile Kenma is obviously playing a game, but will choose a chill one, which gives him the time to stroke your hair and look at you both with an embarrassed face, while Kuroo will tease him about that (a/n i need Kenma blushing in my life so badly-)

you take care of them both, and they take care of you as well

«Kenma..stop sitting like you're a question mark, please» you grab him by the neck, much like a cat, and pull him backwards, as to make him sit up straight. «He'll never learn, love. He'll end up hunched up like a croissant.» you let out a giggle, while the blond shots Kuroo a deadly look. «What? It's the truth, Kenma.» he kisses you, shooting him a challenging look. «Oh come on Kuroo, he'll get even grumpier than usual.» you kiss the blond's frown, and his face relaxes immediately. «I'm not grumpy...» he protests, as Kuroo lowers himself to stare at him dead in the eyes. «Bullshit. But since you're cute, I guess I'll let it slide this one time.» and kisses him, making the frown come back as he focuses on his game again. «I need to finish this video and you both are distracting me. Don't you have anything better to do?» he huffs, his puffed cheeks making you and Kuroo erupt in a loud laugh. «Sure, we can do each other.» he retorts, his shit eating grin making you shake your head. You loved those two dorks to death.

it's safe to say his gameplay took less than usual that day

Your predicament is such: you pressed between the two of them, your head resting on Kenma's shoulder while he passionately kisses your neck. Kuroo looks at the two of you, taking in the sight of the people he loves most in the world. Your necks are his weakness: he can't hold on any longer. When his mouth clashes with your neck, you can't help but let out a loud moan, your hands instinctively reaching for his hair, using it as leverage to shove his face deeper on yourself. «Something wrong, babe? You seem worked up.» he teases, while Kenma continues incessantly, his arms reaching to hug you from behind, his hands wandering around. «Seriously, Kuroo?» your breath is ragged, so instead of coming out as an angry question, it comes out as more of a whine. «I'm as serious as it gets, babe. So?» he licks an undefined spot, making you squirm in the very small available space between their bodies. You try to catch your breath. «How could I be composed when I have my two boyfriends ravaging my neck?» you blurt out, as they both chuckle.

[soupbabe]

Can I get some head canons of The Sinclair Brothers, Bubba Saywer, Martin Mathias and RZ Myers with a reader who sits in the weirdest position casually. Like reader is just sitting in an arm chair with one leg hanging off the side of it and the other on the cushion or something?

Slashers With A Reader Who Won't Sit Normally

Featuring: Bo Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Martin Mathias, and RZ! Michael Myers

I NEVER GET TO WRITE FOR MARTIN THANK YOU FOR INCLUDING MY BOY <3

Tagging: @rottent33th, @slaasherslut, @the-pinstriped-hood

Lester Sinclair

- He formed a habit of sitting in less conveniental ways because of you

- Throughout his time knowing you, he's seen how content you are even if half of your body is off of the chair

- It made him curious

- All it took was one joke and now he can't help but lay his head on your lap as he practically take up the rest of the couch

- It kinda forced you to start sitting up right

Bo Sinclair

- Oh he's very confused to why you don't just sit normally

- It's a small pet peeve of his, but I think you get some leeway because he likes you more

- "Stop putting your feet up there, gonna ruin the damn couch if you keep doing that."

- Though I think he lets you rest your head or legs onto him

- Sometimes when he's resting, he'll mindlessly grab your legs or drum on them

Vincent Sinclair

- He also sits weirdly, but it's all very crouched

- Vincent has a tendency to make himself the smallest in the room

- So if his knees aren't up to his chest, then he'll spend as much time as he needs to to make sure that's possible

- He has a mentality of "if you don't question me then I won't question you" when it comes to how you sit

- Though he does have a slight pet peeve of how much space you take up, but it's nothing that'd affect how he thinks of you

Martin Mathias

- I think Martin has a weird attitude about it: he has no issues when you do it, but he gets embarrassed when he does it

- Similarly to Vincent, Martin likes to crouch and make himself small as possible, but he was never allowed to as a kid

- Seeing you do it and encouraging him to sit however he'd like, gets him excited but he's always hesitant to do it

- It's like a secret when he expresses himself with you, he almost begs you to not tell anyone of what he's like when he's alone with you

- But he'll admit, it's refreshing being around someone who understands him and lets him have his fun

RZ! Michael Myers

- He's the only other one that sits relatively normal (though he always spreads his legs way more than necessary-)

- And he doesn't care about how you sit, if you take up room, he's just going to make room

- Absolutely no issues to lifting up half of your body so he can sit next to you, completely ignoring your objections and confusion

- I also just think that he has so spatial awareness

- Like there's too many times to count where he bumped into your leg that was dangling off of a chair

[jelsah27]

imposter syndrome talked ab just some forewarning

In History Class

MC: *walks into class with a small smile on their face*

Deuce: Good morning, MC. You seem happy today.

Ace: Yeah what's got you all smiley?

MC: Well, Kalim and Jamil were at my dorm the other day. Kalim really wanted to know about foods from my world and Jamil tagged along for obvious reasons. At on point Kalim wanted to look at my room and he found my snap-out-of-it post-it notes on the wall.

Deuce: Snap-out-of-it post-it notes?

MC: Oh, yeah they help remind me that a lot of the problems I think I have aren't really as problematic as I think. Like "Every personality is a creation of experiences that make you you." or "My friends like me because I am me". You see a while ago I figured out that I have a bit of Imposter Syndrome.

Ace: A bit of what?

MC: Well, it's pretty much I feel like I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I'm not the gifted child everyone remembers or the smart person everyone seems to think I am. That if I can't hurry up and live up to everyone's expectations that they'll figure out I'm not as great a person they think I am and be disappointed and angry that all I am is an empty shell of who they believed I was and leave. Some times it will also come in the form of believing that my friends only want to be around me out of pity or that if I don't like what they like or want to do the same things as them then they will leave, even if they've reassured me they love me. I think the worst thoughts I ever got from it was when I started to believe that my personality was fake and that I didn't know why I was so different than the kid everyone liked. I started to believe that I had faked my personality from different shows, books, or even people to even have one.

MC: Honestly I didn't even realize it was imposter syndrome till someone else pointed it out to me after telling them this. I genuinely had no clue I was so disgusted with myself till I was talking with them about it and they pointed out that none of what I was saying was true, that everybody knew who I was and loved me as I am. I think I cried when they told me that.

Deuce: Prefect... I had no idea...

MC: It's alright, I've been learning to get better at combating it. Anyway, Kalim asked me about it and I basically told him and Jamil what I just told you. He then asked me what I'm doing to overcome it. So I told him about the main things that have helped. Reminding myself constantly that I am not fake or hiding who I am from people I love and who love me. Whenever I feel negative thoughts try to take over, think about one positive thing that I have done or something someone had said they love about me for every dark thought. If it gets to bad though, go to someone I trust and ask them flat out about those thoughts, it helps a lot. And twice a week I make a post-it or journal about one or two small things. Maybe a compliment someone gave me, or a task I completed. So every day or so since they've-

Jamil: *walks into the room* Prefect, here. I must get to class before Kalim catches something on fire I mean gets into trouble. Have a good day.*hands MC a small note and leaves the classroom*

MC: *smiling contently* It say 'Thank you for helping Kalim study yesterday great sevens know he needed it and your smile is unique'

Deuce: *getting out paper* If it helps you, I'll gladly join in.

Little bit of a rant u can skip I hope you enjoyed the post <3 Y'all I'm sorry I didn't mean to trauma dump but I really like the idea. But the story is true and I did cry (and it was in a restaurant) when my sis told me I was wrong and she knew who I really and she loves me. That our friends won't leave because all humans have opinions and we are allowed to clash. And that my personality isn't fake, that everyone's personality is what they've created themselves and that people add and take away from themselves all the time and work on parts of themselves they don't like to become better. That my brain was just being dark when there was many lights around me, waiting to be recognized. If any of y'all read this its just one side of imposter syndrome, there are a few versions and many levels of severity. I genuinely think you are awesome and perfectly imperfect the way you are!

Anywho thanks for reading!

[seangelfish]

WHEN THEIR S/O IS SICK

Featured characters: Kanata Yatonokami, Nayuta Yatonokami ♡ Tags: Headcanons and scenarios, fluff, established relationships, fem reader ♡ Word count: 685 ♡ Synopsis: How the twins take care of you when you're sick. A/N: Wahhh, I love them so much. I'm in love, truly.

KANATA YATONOKAMI

Kanata is never going to leave your side unless it's for something important. He berates you for getting sick, but it's only because he's extremely worried about you.

He'll spoon-feed you if you refuse to eat. He understands that you might not have an appetite right now, but he doesn't want you to starve. He even helps you when you need to drink water. As he lifts your head with one hand, the other holds the glass as he gently pours the water into your mouth.

He keeps to the schedule for when you need to take your medicine, so he reminds you each time. He'll spoon-feed you that too.

But most of the time, he'll just sit beside you – facing you. He lets you hold his hand as you drift to sleep. He won't move from his space especially if his mind is now preoccupied with many thoughts of you, hoping that you'll get better soon.

If he needs to write songs, then he'll have his laptop with him, but he'll keep by your side with headphones on, completely silent.

At times when you're asleep, he'll stroke your face, admiring how peaceful you look when you're not coughing your lungs out. He can't help but smile at this and even kisses you softly on your forehead. Thankfully, you won't ever get to witness that.

"K-Kanata..." you weakly say, reaching out for him.

He takes your hand in his. "What is it? Do you need anything?"

"Am... I... going to die?" you joke.

"Hey, don't talk like that...!" he hisses, pulling on your cheeks.

"Hehe, I'm just messing with you~" you laugh.

He sighs, squeezing your hand a little. "(Y/N), get well soon, okay?"

You smile as you bring his hand to your cheek, making him cup it. And he lets you – of course he does.

"Thank you for staying with me," you whisper.

"Mhm. I'll always stay with you."

NAYUTA YATONOKAMI

Nayuta's always been taken care of by Kanata, so it's finally his time to shine and take care of you! He wants to be seen as caring and responsible, so he'll do anything in his might to do so.

Like Kanata, he'll spoon-feed you if needed, but he's going to be really cheeky about it. He'll treat you like a kid as a joke, but he's just so fond of you that he finds the situation kind of cute.

He'll leave you alone if you need to rest, but when you wake up, he's already sitting beside you. He always greets you, asking how you're feeling. He's not one to stay beside you 24/7 because he thinks you need space, but he's always checking up on you as you never truly leave his mind.

But if you do want him to stay by your side for that long, then he will. He knows what it's like to be in your position, and having company always comforts him.

When you're awake and bored out of your mind though, he'll accompany you to watch videos on his phone together. Other times, he'll just tell you stories of his past or what he did the other day. He wants to keep you entertained, to make you laugh and smile. After all, being sick isn't fun.

He wants to hold you so bad, but he knows he can't otherwise he might get sick too. But that doesn't mean he didn't try to...

In the meantime, all he could do is draw circles on your palm; sometimes, lightly kissing your temple even when you tell him off.

"(Y/N), get well quickly, alright?" Nayuta says softly, peeling an apple for you. "I miss cuddling you..."

"Haha, is that the only reason why you want me to get better?"

"Heh, of course not. I want to see you back on your feet and healthy." He cuts the apple into slices. "Here. Now open wide~"

"Nooo, I can do it myself."

"I'm not letting you. Come on, (Y/N), be a good girl."

You roll your eyes but giggle, letting him plop the slice into your mouth.

"Thank you, Nayuta... for taking care of me."

"Anything for you," he replies, smiling.

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

[eluxcastar]

As I opened my tumblr, just to check if there is new Arlecchino stuff to swallow... lo and behold, I saw your post with the Arlecchino simp tags. Shot me the moment I stepped into the door right there, hahaha! May I request an Arlecchino x reader, headcanon or anything you're comfortable coming up with. The reader is thousands of years old, who got disowned by the Tsaritsa because they declined their performance in greatness for someone else's benefit and saw no worth in her/them. Could be a sibling or a friend, the betrayal stung like a bee since she/they saw Tsaritsa as a mother figure or could literally be the mother (Got kunikuzushi'd in a way, minus the puppet part). So, here's the main part - How Arlecchino would handle that person, when they meet in hostile terms. An accidental encounter, had banters and fights and eventually found strange subtle solace from each other. Could be romantic, or just obsession on Arlecchino's part because we love deranged women pls step on me with your sharp heels - anyway, since Arlecchino is interpreted as someone who won't hesitant to betray the Fatui. On her own benefit, works with the reader to mess and interrupt Fatui operations. I won't include more or else you'd be dealing a whole thesis of it. Hahahah! Good day to you~!

One of Repetition

── ୨୧：arlecchino x reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: in a strange decision nobody quite understood but could not contest, you were dismissed from your position by the tsaritsa herself but allowed to live. you wander for some time, lost and confused, and most notably unable to escape the fatui even when you are no longer associated with them, which means an unwanted letter and an even more unwanted visit from the knave.

୨୧﹑genre :: kinda angsty

୨୧﹑content :: fem reader, reader has a pyro vision, arlecchino has a cryo delusion, reader uses a bow, capitano is not human this time, he's just a plot device too, their previous relationship is implied but ambiguous, implied age difference, reader is most often called by the title brighella, writing this spiralled me into insanity, possibly bad writing, not proofread 

୨୧﹑words :: 13.6k

hehe, I know that Arlecchino simps flock to me once they learn my requests are open. I have no idea why. maybe they're just especially desperate for food, but they linger, and I have a little collection of anons.

don't worry about how much it'll take me, I honestly enjoy writing longer works. anyway, I received a request similar to this some time ago (was it you? I have encountered that before) but haven't gotten around to completing it, so I'll be partly combining the two

here's the other request:

it's gonna provide some stuff for me to follow, and I remember exactly when I got it, so I wanted to include it for the dear anon who sent it

why brighella you may ask well that's because brighella has been described before as essentially Arlecchino's smarter and more vindictive brother and they compliment each other well. I think Arlecchino may also work for Brighella in some versions?? either way it felt right even though they're not really based off of the character brighella, they do share a few traits with him but not fully it's just a fun little parallel

I really did not expect this to be so long that it literally lagged the writing program I was using to save it and I have been staring at this for so long I literally have no gauge on the quality anymore just that it's variable because it took me so long someone send help

Her words left you exasperated, literally at a loss for words, and you struggled to comprehend the reason for it. There was nothing you could think of, no instance that struck you as prominent. Yet, somehow as one of the Tsaritsa's children, you had become what any parent might refer to simply as a disappointment, their failure—the problem child who never quite ironed out their issues. You had always been faithful to her, hopelessly devoted to the archon and her will. News such as this came out of nowhere and struck you like a hammer to the chest.

Two of her most mighty children were near and dear to her, and now the other had turned against you as he remains loyal to her. The Jester, who you once held in high regard, has turned against you. It is a bitter pill to swallow, for you must now sever ties with the one man you believed was truly deserving of serving the Tsaritsa. Your mother— your world— turns against you with him, before him, leading the way for him. 

In vain, you draw your bow to strike an arrow between his eyes, prove your strength and power as above your position, above him, but it means nothing. Your strike is blocked, and the Tsarita's Damselette Columbina moves to detain you. You believe she would not be strong enough, but you don't itch to fight ten other Harbingers. You understand that even you have a limit, and fighting what are supposed to be the strongest people in the country is not a part of that. Your honour is on the line, an honour which would tarnish not only Brighella's name but also have a ripple effect on your soldiers, men and women who fought for you and did not deserve a punishment that would result from their actions.

"Think carefully, Brighella." Columbina's warning is not lost on you, "You could remain as a hero or fight, and I will lure the creature you brought from the abyss and gut him before your eyes."

You do not want that. That creature is not yet loyal to the Tsaritsa but to you, and she will convince him he can save you. He will fall into her trap and die.

You bite your lip, trying to think of a way to escape and capture him so that you can run off somewhere. He does not deserve to die, but you can't think of anything. Not when you know how thorough these people are. There is not a will, really. There is only a has. He has fallen into her trap and is at the mercy of the Damselette. "What if I am to obey?" You finally ask the question you did not want to, surrendering in a way, though the bite has not left your words.

"I'll leave him be." Her answer is swift. She expected that you would eventually give in and only needed to wait for it to happen.

You shake your head, dissatisfied with only that as your compensation. "Not enough."

The smile on her face does not waver, thin and deceitful as ever, eyes hidden and closed, unseen behind the band of lace. "Mm. I can't bargain anything else." 

"Have him take my place." You lay your condition out firmly. There is only one to meet, and not a hard one at that. It would be easy to sway him into it, using whatever they plan to do to you as motivation. His loyalty and affection for you would make him accept it.

She ponders the situation and proposal momentarily, powerless to make the executive decision but undoubtedly keen on the thought of it all. "He believes that you are about to fall in battle to a foe and that he is going to save you."

You grit your teeth, knowing that this is her trap. Lure him to a place. It was not what you had expected, but it is no less the Damselette's style of acting. There is always a damsel, but perhaps she recognised that she would not suffice this time. She needed a better damsel for him to save; for that to work, it needed to be you. 

She needs your name, reputation, your relationship with your subordinate, melding together with her lies to make for a tale of tragedy with him as the hero.

The thought of him rushing to his death under the guise of saving you spikes your blood cold, chilling you. You're aware of her cruelty and always have been, but to experience it is different than hearing about it from her perspective. You are experiencing it from the perspective of the victim. 

His death was another factor to hold over your head, your penance, the anchor to force your compliance. Your blood boils with anger, but you cannot fight. Despite your feelings of anger and frustration, you know that lashing out will only cause further harm and pain.

There is only one thing you can do. You know you must. It's simply that you don't want to. 

But...you must. 

You must for him, that poor creature you tried to give a home to and who would never be in such a position if not for you and your ambition. 

"Then I will fall, and you will use the honour I built into him to persuade him." 

It was an honour meant to humanise him in a way, a being only able to imitate humanity. He had a mentor and something to fight for. Now you're imploring that it be used against him to burden him, but he will do well in your position.

Columbina smiles, that thin mocking smile like she knows the secrets of this world and more. "Would he really believe that?"

The helmet. You should use the helmet to your advantage. Your subordinate's first exposure to humanity, being you, a woman in a metal helmet, seemed to last. He used to think that was what humans looked like, and he admitted as much to you as he had asked you to remove it. Your impression left an indelible mark on him that he treasures to this day. Even if he was to see you in the aftermath, he would not uncover the lie.

"He has never seen my face. He would not recognise me."

Columbina accepts that readily, and her eyes open, pools of black and white visible through the cracks in the lace over her eyes. You've seen them before, inky black sclera and inhuman patterns decorating the borders of her irises, but you can't help the unsettled feeling that makes a home for itself in the pit of your stomach. 

-

By the evening, you are stripped of your honours, titles and coat and dumped to the curb like a bag of rubbish somebody left out. There is no more fight, no more bargaining, no more arguing. Everyone has the things they want, for the most part, so you are all satisfied enough to remain amicable with each other. Without a fight, you allow the Jester to remove the fur-lined overcoat despite the cold that rushes over you once it is gone and discarded in a heap of fur and fabric on the floor with none of its previous value. 

After that comes the slow, deliberate removal of every trinket that denoted you as you. From your delusion, several gifts to your very insignia, the only thing left of you is a lone pyro vision and the clothes on your back. You've never been more thankful to not wear a standard-issue uniform lest you be made to undress and hand that over too.

That was it. Your everything.

With each piece of regalia taken, a part of yourself disappeared until you were left an empty husk of a person, your entire reason for being for hundreds of years snatched out from under you and spat on.

The Harbingers were supposed to be the children of the Tsaritsa, and this was your grand disowning. A show of power and influence over her closest children and, by extension, the ability to bring pain to her less-- to her followers. It was foolish of you to ever think you were special in her eyes for having been by her side since before the Archon War. What did it matter when she left you amongst the rest of them? The years you spent since you had hobbled into her life so tiny and cute were now reduced to a few personal belongings and a set of words that shattered your world to sharp and dangerous pieces that would only hurt you in your haste to reassemble them and string your life back together.

When you were young, your cuteness may have been your best asset: a small body with endearing quirks, the inability to walk long distances without tumbling. In this state, you required her for everything because you would only find danger in the harsh Snezhnayan winters. To even acquire your own food was unthinkable, so you were sheltered and provided with ample treats that you could nibble from the palm of her hand if that were what you wished. Anything to keep you happy and content.

Like a little trinket, she cradled you for as many years as it took you to grow, and once you were at an age you no longer needed to be cradled, she made you her loyal companion, or so you had believed. You thought her affection for you was unwavering. She was the only mother you had ever known; she is the only mother you will remember for all of eternity.

Although it may have been an exaggeration, watching the sun's gradual descent below the horizon, you could almost believe eternity would quickly prove to be a very real concept. You watch the sky darken in silence for a time. You roam aimlessly around the city, your presence still striking unease in the people from the threatening demeanour you learned to conduct yourself with as a Harbinger, even without your official attire. The only remnant of your former self is a helmet you consistently wore during every public appearance. 

You can't help your wandering mind. Did your imitation of the Tsaritsa's actions make you weak? Attempting to nurture someone in the same manner she nurtured you? You are not a god, only the former child of one. Maybe you cannot care for him and maintain your objectivity. It's possible that he has become your Achilles' heel, as you were forewarned when the Tsaritsa less than subtly suggested you eliminate him.

You cannot live like this.

No matter how many suns you watched set, you would never come to terms with it living like this. The world you once knew, which revolved around a singular governing entity and individual, has disappeared without a trace. Without a central axis to anchor it in place, your world spirals chaotically out of control, with each passing second feeling more frenzied than the last. Your head is too muddled, your brain too overwhelmed by your emotions to think objectively of the faults in your time as a Harbinger, years of your life spent that way, burying your thoughts beneath a heavy weight of despair.

You almost want to call them wasted, but that would be wrong. Without the Tsaritsa, you might've— no, would've died during the Archon War. Perhaps another god would take you in, but it is unlikely that they would have exhibited the same level of compassion and generosity as the Tsaritsa. They would not have coddled you into comfort the way she did. Then again, what if that had been your downfall? Did she ever genuinely want you to stay? Based on this...perhaps you took her kindness for granted and overstayed your welcome.

You had no right to make demands of her in your final moments as her child, acting like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. But can you be justified? Can the threat to your subordinate's life negate that? Surely a bit, but not entirely, not if her actions were in response to yours. 

Oh, even if you begged on your knees, she would not take you back now.

Why had you not done that before?

She must be disappointed that your attitude was born from her compassion, the epitome of her failures. You do not deserve to call her your mother. You took her generosity as a guarantee, thought yourself above her other children solely because you were her first, and believed you were her favourite for no reason besides your own arrogance.

You have failed the only being in Teyvat willing to show pity toward you.

-

The deepest heart of Snezhnayan forest welcomes you readily with open arms and the gnashing jaws of monsters starving for food. The forest seems to come alive with a vicious hunger for flesh. You have nothing but your vision and bow left to aid your defence. Your delusion is gone, and your subordinates are nowhere to be found to assist you. Despite this, marking your way with a trail of bodies is easy. It is just an inconvenience to have to always be on guard, but you are strangely used to it. 

The cold is numbing as the air hits your face, your fingers almost wholly without a sensation of touch and even a tingle in your toes.

You spent many missions that way, tensed and expecting violence at any moment, hardly allowing yourself to sleep, let alone relax. It feels like nothing has changed in that respect, but you know everything has. You cannot hear the large crackling bonfire or the pattering of footsteps in the snow as your subordinates come to join you, their laughter and chatter and their whispers to each other.

There is a stark silence that is deafening to your ears.

-

On the seventh night, you pass through a village on the outskirts of Snezhnaya, where you first catch wind of the news you had agreed on. The locals informed you that they had recently halted their work for half a day in your honour, believing that you had passed away. All of them are completely unaware that as they remark on the death of Brighella, they are speaking to the former Harbinger, who asks about the news under the guise of being a curious traveller. They also strongly advised you against venturing into the innermost heart of the nation. If anyone were to notice the helmet carefully secured around your waist, it might bring unwanted attention to your travels.

Though you were stripped of your insignia, you have your armour, which by some grace had been spared from confiscation. Though a seemingly trivial act of kindness, a sense of pride swelled within you as you gazed upon it. You are glad it is still yours. This armour had accompanied you through countless blood-soaked skirmishes, serving as a steadfast shield against all manner of danger. 

It is at that moment you decide to treat it as a trophy. Though there is no truth to it, you take responsibility for the Harbinger's slaying. Now, the armour which once protected you as a Harbinger will stand as a triumphant emblem of your hard-won victory over Brighella and the end of the Harbinger's tyrannical hold over the land. You know that you will keep it close, treasuring it always as a tangible reminder of the sacrifices you made to reach this pivotal moment. You slayed Brighella. You ended the Harbinger's tyranny.

If you didn't know better, you would think you were getting a little too far into it and starting to believe it yourself.

By the eleventh night, you find yourself situated in an inn, and the nights only carry on from there all the way up to the twenty-second night since your abrupt dismissal and, to the rest of the world, your supposed demise. Already, the whispers that once revolved around Brighella's defeat now shifted to speculations regarding her successor. The question was not necessarily who, but who could possibly? Her brutal reign as a Harbinger had instilled fear in the hearts of all who crossed her path and in the minds of the people, no one else could measure up to her sheer terror-inducing presence. Nobody knows what happened once they dared to fight Brighella until now. She was only the Fourth of the Tsaritsa's children, but she was the most combat-heavy, and no one wished to cross her, except for the rumoured contender for her throne, who was spoken of in hushed tones as nobody was eager to have their reverence for whoever was bold enough to reach the wrong ears.

Your achievements find their place amongst the rumours as people say that Brighella's killer stole her armour and wears it as her trophy.

Despite the slew of gossip that its patrons indulge in, you enjoy the quaintness of this bar made and run by travellers who use it like a pitstop to rest and recuperate. It is a home to them, along with adventurers and merchants who benefit from the atmosphere. The people are strangers, often reserved and eager to keep to themselves, but have immeasurable wealths of information that spill with a few drinks and a group of acquaintances who are, for only one night of pleasure and indulgence, their lifelong friends.

Among those friends buried in your own tankard of cheap ale, you laugh along with their jokes and entertain their questions like a test of your ability to lie and improvise in this tale you're making for yourself. If they have names, you don't know them. Brighella's death was a glorious battle but isolated to the hills where you were alone.

"Brighella was alone, and they were weakened by prior injury. I don't know what caused it." You mix a dash of the speculations in, downplaying your strength a tad as you're unwilling to expose too much of it. "I'm not one to miss an opportunity. When would it arise again?"

One of your new acquaintances scoffs, amused but no less aware of the dangers of doing such a thing. "And make an enemy of the Fatui?" He is a new graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya who's come to make his way through Snezhnaya for a job offer. Reminds you of someone else, minus the graduating.

"They will not miss her." You are quick to answer—too quick, arguably—as it draws a sliver of attention before dipping back under the radar as a product of your confidence. "Her 'head' makes too cute a decoration on my side to pass up stealing it."

"I wouldn't dare say such a thing. Fatuus comes here sometimes." They are the words of a Snezhnayan native raised to worship the Fatui, though he is somewhat disillusioned by their crimes and cruelty, as you've learned many are.

"Let them hear it!" Your laughter is boisterous and unabashed. "They'll see the armour anyway. They probably despise her like everyone else."

Another one of your new friends, a travelling merchant from Fontaine, interjects your ravings to add only a passing comment. It was as she had done all evening, her secrets locked up tight. "She did not make herself likeable."

"She was not meant to be likeable but a fearsome warrior." Again, the Snezhnayan man rebuttals the criticism against her as he had been doing all evening again.

"You don't have to get so far up her ass, Brighella's not gonna crawl out of her grave and thank you for it."

"You're so vulgar."

You plant your tankard firmly down on the table between the four of you, leaning over it to close the distance between you and the man. "I'm not meant to be likeable either."

Forget being only a little too into the role. You're revelling in the freedom of this new identity of yours.

Quick to disperse the tension, your graduate friend changes the topic without a hint of hesitance in his voice. "They left an underling people believe will take their place. It's a surprise to think Brighella had someone who followed them with such...devotion."

"It's strange, but not impossible." The merchant from Fontaine again, contributing nothing you weren't all already thinking.

"Could she have had a sentimental side?"

"Who cares if she had a sentimental side?"

"Upset the attention isn't on you anymore?"

Anger crosses your face, but you stifle it just as quickly as it appears. You wish their attention was off of you, really. The former you, maybe, but you nonetheless. You want to know about your subordinate. What happened to your second in command? You don't care to hear their speculation as to whether you were or were not particularly emotional with your underlings. You know the answers to all of those questions and more without their guessing games.

"Regardless of the reason, they say the underlying is much easier to swallow than she is, so maybe the position of Fourth Harbinger will change drastically if he takes it." 

"Would he really change its purpose if he was so loyal?"

"Unintentionally, perhaps."

God, these people are so dull. Just listening to them, you can tell they know nothing of the ways of the Fatui. Harbingers are not individual job positions with specific parameters. Each role is its own, and they are moulded by the person who assumes them like a character in a play, enchanting and unsettling in a horrific mix of theatrics and violence. It is what they stand for. One does not assume the role and become an actor with a script. They must improvise and act on a whim to the beat of the Tsaritsaʼs drum, their life no longer their own.

They are not whatever these ramblings and poor excuses for speculations make them out to be.

"Terribly misinformed, aren't they?" In your ear is the low voice of the Snezhnayan man holding in his laughter at the two as the scholar and the merchant go back and forth. 

You glance to your left, where he has leaned closer to you. "Repulsively," you respond curtly.

He has a faint glint of satisfaction in his eye as you seem to have confirmed something. "I thought you might've been from Snezhnaya." 

"So what if I am?"

"It was only an observation."

In the background, the main conversation continues, just as clumsy as it was before you had tuned it out in favour of drinking some more. "Does this mean he will also be named Brighella?"

Straightening back in his seat, the man swiftly interjected their back-and-forth responses to explain to them. "They receive a unique title upon their promotion, and nobody knows what it is until then." A simple enough concept to understand.

"In other words, anything but Brighella."

"It hasn't been long enough to know yet."

"It's strange. Nobody knows his name even now."

That would probably be because you never gave him one.

You considered it in the years you spent with him but couldn't find one you liked. His name was inhuman, not for your ears and not for your tongue, rendering it useless to you and every human who would hear it. The night you found him was spent crowded around a bonfire listing off every suggestion you and your subordinates could think of to no avail, as he only sat quietly by your side and said little about any of these choices, finding no familiarity in any of them. That's only natural, you suppose. 

You still haven't chosen a name for yourself that isn't Brighella, either. Your old one is well and truly forgotten, with the years eroding your memories. It had been centuries since you had been called anything else. Evidently, picking names is not your forte. 

"As far as I've heard, nobody knows what it is."

You find the mention of your subordinate has completely ruined your mood. You are grateful the creature is alive but worried the knowledge you're snooping around to find out when he will be promoted could land you in trouble. It's troubling enough to wonder if he has heard your tales through the grapevine about how you had supposedly 'killed' Brighella—his mistress and mentor—which he would not be happy about. Though you did not fear the creature before, now that you've personally trained him to understand human combat, you're not so sure you'd want to fight him. It would be a hassle. Unlike many, you do not fear the inhumanity of the Doctor or the stone wall that's called the Jester. Even the cunning Damselette struggles to do more than unsettle you, but you respect that creature's raw strength and understand that no matter what you do, it doesn't matter. You are confined to a human form, and he is not.

You lied when he said he wouldn't recognise you, however. You don't actually know if he would.

You don't know the extent to which his eyes can pick out the details in your appearance that aren't physical. Had he memorised your relative build? Your height? The way you carry yourself and your mannerisms? The thought unnerves you, but so does everything else about him.

"I'm turning in for the night." Without regard for the ongoing conversation, you declare your intentions and abruptly shut down whatever is being said at the time without much care for it. Whatever it is, it isn't important. Your unfinished drink is left behind as you make your way to your quarters.

In retrospect, you understand their eagerness to merely cover up the circumstances of your dismissal. For a Harbinger as feared as Brighella, it is easier to halt work for a mere half-day rather than attempt to contain the resulting fallout of admitting one of their own was inadequate while simultaneously preserving their tenuous hold on power.

-

Months pass before there is talk of the crowning of a new Harbinger, the people abuzz with the news and eager to know all they can, preferably before the aristocrats feel like sharing the night of the event. You considered attending the ceremony but ultimately decided against it. You may have the courage to do so, but you are certainly not stupid enough to wander into the waiting heart of the Fatui's clutches. You have waited patiently for this moment and can easily wait longer to hear the news.

No longer treating the inn like a home, you settled somewhere in the plains of another nation only a few weeks after you had first arrived there, sensing the barkeep was getting sick of you and the attention you were drawing to his otherwise obscure establishment. 

People settled there for a night, saw you were there, and word of mouth as they boasted of their encounters with you lured others who came to see you. While this influx of new customers certainly provided a boost to business, it also had the unintended consequence of driving away those who preferred to keep a low profile and valued its place as being for those 'in the know'. In other words, while you were great for a boom in business, you were bad for long-term business. 

The barkeep pushing the mora you tried to pay him to pay for another night was enough to send the message he wanted you gone, out by morning. The idea you were not to come back for quite some time was clear to you in the look he gave you.  

Liyue, on the other hand, is filled with mountains and teeming with visitors who have come to witness the highly anticipated Rite of Descension. Surprisingly, the influx of tourism only adds to the overall enjoyment of your experience. You would think that tourism would hinder your time there, but completely contrary it makes it better in a way. The locals are expecting an influx of outsiders to come to see the Geo Archon in person, and, as a result, they are not only willing to hire help for the time but also serve later at food stalls, and the place is livelier. 

People notice you less as you blend into a crowd of people who don't belong, and you slip under the radar.

You have no interest in the Rite of Descension nor the Geo Archon, and most of your time is spent outside the Harbour.

Wangshu Inn is still within Liyue but at a considerable distance from the Harbour, a mid-point between there and the border to Mondstadt. It is quieter, which is neither good nor bad, and home to some very understanding owners who ask so few questions it almost alarms you. Nonetheless, you crave respite from the chaos and theatrics you were revelling in as a reprieve from the stress you were under, wondering how you would live your life now. At one point, you relished being hailed as a hero by many, but it soon became overwhelming, and you found yourself trapped in the clutches of Brighella once again.

Whether by design or happenstance, your identity had begun to consume your life again, and if you wanted to have any hope of living outside of Brighella, then that had to stop. And so, you sought out a place to lay down your burdens and unwind, leading you to where you are now.

You arrive your old self, and despite clinging to it since your travels had begun, you remove every piece of your armour for what you intend to be a long time and leave it all neatly arranged for when you eventually return to it. You feel compelled to finally don the fresh outfit you acquired during your journey through Fontaine. Admittedly floor-length dresses and extravagance are not your style after years of being cooped up in a heavy suit of armour, but there's something alluring about trying out a new look, especially when it involves pants that don't weigh more than a third of your body weight. Besides, you always kind of liked them anyway, just...not yet. Now seems like a good time to dip your toes in.

You almost don't recognise yourself when you finally see yourself in the mirror. Perhaps you got too used to seeing a metal helmet staring back at you and a suit of armour for a body, but the fresh air against your skin and lighter clothes feels...good. 

For the first time in a while, you feel free.

The new outfit is making you giddy, too giddy for your taste. You don't recall having such an innate pep in your step, only one that felt deserved, but this different. While you typically associate a sense of satisfaction with having earned it through hard work or perseverance, this newfound exuberance seems to come from just existing in your new clothes. You are happy just because even if there is nothing to feel happy about. It's as if the simple act of wearing them has given you a boost, despite not having accomplished anything significant. It doesn't even seem like you made much progress toward becoming yourself when you lay it all out on paper. You bought clothes and wore them, that's it. 

Something about it feels so much like yourself. The freedom to stray from what you thought you were until now, something you hadn't dared to try before.

One thing you like about Wangshu Inn is how it serves even people who aren't staying there. The ground floor overlooking the water is designated as almost a kind of restaurant. People filter in and out to be served, stay for lunch, meet with friends, and take breaks from their missions. It is meant as a place for travelling merchants, but you find that is not all its patrons see in it.

You are not nearly as sociable as you were in the Snezhnayan bar you were at, but this seems more manageable anyway.

"If you've come looking for work, the Adventurer's Guild may have a place for you." A suggestion from a merchant who struck up an idle conversation with you for some reason sticks with you. You can't say why, but you imagine a product of boredom.

"They accept anyone?" Your surprise is evident in your tone, as you thought they might have tighter restrictions.

Just as in disbelief fact as you are, he shrugs, "As long as you've got enough power to back yourself, a friend of mine said they'll accept anyone."

That sounds far too good to be true, at least for your taste. "And it doesn't matter where you come from or where you go?"

"Adventurers are known to get restless in one place for too long."

"I see, and you can just go up a--"

"Excuse me, miss." You don't remember hearing that voice, but you recognise the attire when you turn your head just enough to be met with the sight of a cicin mage standing before you impatiently awaiting your attention. The top half of her face is concealed, as is customary, but there's no mistaking the unkind smile that tugs at the corners of her lips as you meet her gaze.

Has she come for retribution? 

Despite your fears of having to make a mess, the woman reveals a letter that is sealed with wax and extends it towards you, expecting you to receive it sooner rather than later as she waves it slightly as a form of incentive. "From the Damselette," she adds.

"What could the Damselette want with me?"

"Perhaps a warning." The words slip by, quiet but noticeable, immediately catching your attention. You raise an eyebrow at her. She's slowly unveiling her contempt at your presence; you're very aware of that fact. You are not familiar with her. It is unlikely that she ever worked under your command. However, it is possible that she might've held a certain level of regard, which has since turned to hostility as rumours of her arrogant killer run rampant. "I don't know. I'm not privy to those things."

Your eyes glance over her from head to toe in thought, scrutinising her for any indication of where her animosity came from. However, there is nothing that gives away her motives. You break your gaze away from her and glance down at the letter in your hand. "I suggest you get a better hold of your tongue. They don't like it when you're rude to their guests."

Her smile does not waver. "You are not a guest." She states that fact with glaringly false politeness.

"Everyone who recieves correspondence from a Harbinger is a guest."

You suppose you can't fault her disdain when all is said and done.

From somewhere tucked away in her clothing, she pulls what appears to be a knife from your peripheral vision and points it at you, but you look up to find it is only a blunt letter opener balanced in the palm of her hand, waiting to be picked up.

"I was ordered to stay until you had read the letter to deliver her your response."

Just as she believes you are a murderer, the letter addresses you as such. Your lies have reached her ears. Moreover, she is playing along with them.

You expected threats and unfair deals, but it is only an update on what is happening regarding your position, the reassurance that they have not violated the terms of the agreement made. A half-hearted apology and an excuse. Preparations set them back, supposedly.

While you imagine preparing not only a funeral but a ceremony to announce the next Harbinger does take time, it would not take this much time with how prepared they were to kill you off in the first place. It was a planned betrayal.

It just looks better if they don't appear so prepared.

For whatever reason, perhaps your consolation prize for enduring her shameless lies, she shares a secret with you. As you casually scan the letter with little care for its contents, your attention is immediately drawn to the heart of the matter. It's the very subject on everyone's minds and all that anyone speaks of. 

Il Capitano. His name is Il Capitano.

Personally, you would not have picked it, but that does not mean that you hate the name. Quite the opposite, in fact, as you have to admit that when you envision the name paired with his face, it suits him well. She ends the letter promising that she will 'take good care of him', though you know that your respective ideas of those words do not align or even coexist in the same universe. There is an unmistakable discrepancy between her intentions and your own, and you don't like it.

"Come back to us, Brighella. You can watch everything you wanted in person."

-

You won't go back. It's a trap.

Irritated, you find yourself back in the heart of the country where nobody lurks, haphazard in the way you fire your arrows at every creature that dares to disturb your sense of peace. It's hard to focus, and you don't bother trying. Liyue is not the same as Snezhnaya, with open plains broken up by rocky mountains. The creatures are mostly the same, and all die the same, hilichurls and geovishaps running rampant and shot down into piles of meat and rocks.

It doesn't matter how loudly you shout, as there's nobody around to hear it. You could scream, cry, and throw a tantrum all you want, and it won't matter. Even if you throw yourself at the ground and bang your head into the dirt, nobody will see it.

This is all pointless. You will never escape. It will never matter how far you roam or how fast you run.

Why did you think you could? Had your brain melted from your head?

There is no other side. There is no salvation. You are owned from the day you're brought in until the day you die, but why? Why did they want to bring you back to Snezhnaya? What was the point? You are out of the way now, hardly causing trouble for them. Despite this, everything seems to be running smoothly, even with the liberties you have taken in your new role. Was that it? The reason they wanted you to see?

It must be. There is no other reason to risk exposing the lie otherwise. Unless it was to tarnish the Fatui's reputation.

You refuse to believe it is something as innocent as wanting to see your request honoured. Nothing is innocent within the Fatui, not an action without hidden intentions or motives. Centuries of watching their misdeeds from the inside, which always go unpunished and unchallenged by anyone except the powerless commoners, have taught you that there is always an ulterior motive lurking behind their actions.

Not to mention it came from Columbina.

You must've spent three days out there before finally returning to Wangshu Inn, dirtied by the elements and craving something to eat, like a child's insatiable desire for sweets. The dead of night provides a cover for you to take a dip in the water beside the inn in an attempt to rinse the dirt and sweat off of you. It dawns on you that your new clothes would've been ruined if you hadn't had the foresight to change before venturing out again. In that moment, thoughts of the Fatui and the memories evoked by your armour flooded your mind, and you didn't want the same thing to happen to the clothes that had made you so happy from the moment you put them on.

It feels childish how you cling to these things.

A part of you just can't help it, torn between holding onto the memories that define who you believe yourself to be and starting anew with a clean slate. Neither can win. One is stuck on the past and what little you have of it, and the other wants to abandon all of that and start completely fresh.

The half-compromise you are trying desperately to make work by accepting that what's gone is gone while keeping your armour close to your heart is obviously not working. The thought of discarding it pains you too much to actually do it, plagued by the urge to melt it down to scrap metal while also being overwhelmed by the knowledge you will regret doing that as soon as you see the mess that would be left of it.

Your new clothes make you happy, so you need more new things to make you even happier, right? If new means you glean happiness, then more new is what will help you move past all of this deliberation in your head.

Clothes were a given, and...maybe a haircut? Yeah. You should try cutting your hair and decide on a name for yourself that isn't Brighella. Something you want, a name you like, that you can look at yourself and see that person reflected in a mirror. The person you think you are supposed to be when you look past the expectation that has been instilled in you.

That merchant you spoke to mentioned the Adventurer's Guild might have a place for you. What if you should be helping people instead of hurting them? What if you only did that to please the Tsaritsa?

In the background of your thoughts, you walk yourself back to your room at the Wangshu Inn and collapse onto your bed, thinking. Though you are exhausted, you cannot bring yourself to sleep for one reason or another. You make excuses for yourself just to ignore the glaring root of the problem you know is there but refuse to acknowledge. The problem isn't really how hot or cold the room is or the texture of your blankets and how much you dislike the humidity in the air. Something else entirely is keeping you from rest.

Your hair isn't the problem either, or your clothes. Even your lack of a proper name really doesn't bother you. They're only the illusion of change you're using to cover up how truly lost you have become now that you have to think for yourself.

How long have you been alive now? Centuries at least. You can't even live independently after that long? No. No, you can't.

You are so lonely, you are lost, you are confused. You need company, you need guidance, and you need purpose. How are you supposed to live? Where is the person who will tell you what to do every day? 

You have to make that choice yourself? You can't do that. You've never done that. 

The thought of even something so basic scaring you so severely brings you to a weakness you never realised you even possessed. Fear surges through the very depths of your being, an unfamiliar sensation that you find unsettling. You don't like it, but it's an impossible feeling to push down and ignore. Over the years, you had quietly collected your shortcomings into a neat little jar and pushed it aside, out of sight, away from your conscious thought, as if pretending you were invincible. 

What would you have done if you had gotten to Capitano? Make him decide?

He can't. He's not human. He doesn't know enough to decide. You've only made him just like you, a fearsome man until he's abandoned and vulnerable like you have become, and then he'll be pathetic and helpless too.

Nothing came out of any of your efforts, did it? It couldn't have possibly. Even with every attempt you made, it was always doomed to fail.

-

It turns out that the Adventurer's Guild was more than happy to take you in, in a way. They put you right to work. It helps to take your mind off of things if nothing else. It's mindless work, able to tune out everything in your brain and run on auto-pilot. You take to this life so well it scares you, completing your tasks with so little trouble you wonder how this isn't more popular, even if some are arguably unnecessary. If only you were good at proper cooking, you might get rich from the tens of requests for certain dishes. 

You're irresistibly drawn to the combat, right back to the heat of battle where you feel truly alive. In all you've had to question, your love for the thrill of fighting has never been up for debate. You're unsure whether it's the adrenaline or something else, but you don't care to know, either. You don't concern yourself with such questions. It's not important to you why, so long as you find comfort in it. It's the one thing you cannot be robbed of. 

A hard day's work is always rewarding.

"Make sure you be careful today." A fellow adventurer is quick to catch you before you can wander off for your next quest, smiling and unbothered despite his words. You've never met him, but he speaks as if you have.

Something about the bond of adventurers is so reminiscent of the Fatui.

You turn back to place your full attention on him rather than the grilled tiger fish you had acquired out of curiosity about the taste. "Why's that?" You're not too bothered, expecting him to tell you that it's dangerous out there, the Abyss Order existing and all.

"The Fatui are restless."

His words catch you off-guard, light in tone as they are. In outward appearances, he's mostly unbothered, while the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

You try to grasp your bearings just enough to speak. "They don't do that for fun." Something about it is just as shaky as you expected, unable to fully mask it, but you figure he'll blame it on nerves.

"Harbinger, apparently." He doesn't draw attention to your demeanour, so neither do you.

"Which one?"

"Dunno."

It's probably Columbina. Maybe you pissed her off when you shot the messenger. Yeah, she probably wouldn't appreciate that. When you did it in a fit of anger, you expected her to find it funny after coming to your senses.

"Hey. Something wrong?"

You startle as you realise he had been speaking that whole time, and you just weren't listening.

"Sorry?"

"I said it's weird that they'd be up and about so soon after the newest was officially promoted."

You deadpan a little, realising it wasn't something of actual value, just a misconception that the greatest powers that be in Snezhnaya aren't spiteful enough to hate each other just as much as they hate everyone else. "Not really. They're not particularly sentimental."

"They don't even care to go out drinking for their own?"

"They hardly know how to tolerate each other." You realise your slip of the tongue too late, seeming too familiar. That's a problem. He barely draws attention to it, only making a strange face.

"Well, whatever the reason, work doesn't stop for them."

In silence, you agree and continue your day as if you really believe that.

-

As you wrap up your work for the day, you feel a sense of pleasant exhaustion wash over you. It struck you as strange that nobody was out in the wild, even the usual fatuus you avoid. Something about it was uniquely eerie. It dawns on you why he came to the conclusion that the Fatui were 'restless'. They must have retreated into the city to prepare for the impending arrival of the Harbinger destined to disrupt the small peace you had found. The sudden influx of fatuus in Liyue would make it seem like they are increasing in numbers nationwide when in reality, they are just moving.

You're not going to let it bother you for now.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you have promised yourself that repeatedly and have found it to be a lie, but you mean it this time. You're familiar enough with the workings of the Fatui to know that they don't like to leave sectors alone for too long, and Liyue had spent a fair time before your dismissal unchecked. 

Even at night, you remain unbothered when you wander Liyue for a time, looking for something to do and notice what he was talking about.

Many of them are fussing more than usual, meaning that chances are it's too late to inhibit the process of this Harbinger arriving. You could turn tail and run, scurry off to the other side of Teyvat and settle in Fontaine or even Natlan, but you like it here.

You sit in the heart of Liyue, listening to a speaker tell his stories. You know you shouldn't linger, but you tell yourself you can for just a little while longer. It reminds you of the past, filled with Liyue legends you remember hearing about as news at the time they took place. The fact these tales are now old enough to be suitable for a speaker's recitation as 'legends' is a grim reminder that maybe you're older than you realised. Your early life is now from the time of legends. You can push that feeling aside to focus on the nostalgia of hearing these stories.

Beside you, you hear the chair move but don't budge from looking to see who it is, assuming that all other chairs are taken or that it's an adventurer who got curious, possibly even the man you had spoken to earlier about all of the Fatui--

“Reminiscing, Brighella?”

You recognise both that voice and that name and go stiff, eyes finding her before your head can even turn in her direction.

In front of you—or rather, across from you—the Knave sits upon the other chair at your table as if she was always supposed to be there, seemingly at ease, but you know better than to assume her guard is down. Arlecchino has always had an icy composure, though she can be hot-headed at times and can lose her temper when provoked. It's not surprising that she was able to track you down, even without knowing what your face looks like.

She turns to you leisurely, unhurried. "I came to look for you since you missed the ceremony." It sounds like a greeting the way she speaks those words. You suppose it is one, really.

Ah, maybe you should've been worried after all.

You try to play off your emotions as if you're completely unfazed by her presence. It's the only way to maintain some semblance of control. "Did Columbina not like my gift?"

"Oh, she rather enjoyed it." Arlecchino maintains a similar composure, knowing approaching you in public means employing subtlety as much as it means she's less likely to be attacked. "She felt it was just the kind of gift you would give."

"I try my best not to disappoint." Your response is less enthusiastic than you might like, a hint of nervousness infesting your brain and refusing to budge.

Despite this, she doesn't notice, not outwardly. Really, that means nothing, as you are very aware of how good her poker face is. "Il Capitano hasn't stopped speaking about how much he'd like to kill you. You don't want to disappoint, do you?" When you were waiting for her to speak, those weren't the words you expected to hear, but somehow you're not fully surprised either.

"I see, so my lies reached even his ears." 

You thought as much.

"I think you'll be quite surprised when you see him." Her reply is so cocky that you almost scoff at her.

"Who said I would be seeing him?" You try to match the audacity she had to make such a remark.

She turns to you rather casually for the words she speaks, an odd tone you can't quite place, lacing her words half like mockery. "You miss him, don't you?"

It's that question that makes you snort and turn away as you realise that her negotiation and persuasion skills are abysmal for such a cunning and intelligent woman. "Not enough to become foolish enough to trust someone whose title denotes them as dishonest and untrustworthy." You always wondered about that, really. "A name like 'the Knave' really isn't subtle."

"Funny." She doesn't laugh or even smile. "I believe yours was something close to 'bother'."

You lean back in your chair, testing it slightly as you push the front legs off the floor as a means of entertaining yourself through this frankly dull conversation. "Then I suppose we're both living up to our names."

She remains silent for several seconds, pondering her next words. You can see her fingers rub against the wood of the chair as a distraction. 

"The others told me it was pointless to try to bring you back."

"They were right."

"You won't come back for any reason?"

"I know a trap when I see one."

"Of course."

Silence, again. You don't care to break it, either. You came to hear the stories, and you really would like to continue that rather than listening to her voice, but she's not making it easy.

"Is that all now?" Your voice shows your impatience more than you might like, but you realise it may work in your favour if she senses she's annoying you.

For the first time in a while, she smiles faintly to herself. "For now. Your answer is abundantly clear." She appears to concede, if only for a little while

You let the chair land back on all of its legs and lean your elbow on the table. 

"Are you going to get out of that chair?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"It's comfortable."

The urge to roll your eyes brims in your mind, but you stop yourself. You don't want to give the Knave the satisfaction of knowing something she is already well aware of. Besides that, you don't want her to know that you really don't want her here in any capacity. Arlecchino's presence is never a good thing.

You let out a tentative breath as you consider your next words quite carefully. The wrong thing might have Arlecchino never leaving you, and the right one might drive her back to Snezhnaya if you're lucky. You shift your whole body to face her. "You just arrived from Snezhnaya, I take it. What do you want to eat?"

She eyes you suspiciously, scrutinising you for any sign of trying to fool her into consuming poison or making herself sick. "You're feeding me now?"

You pretend you don't notice her intensity. "Well, you're not leaving. It would look strange for me to order food for myself."

Again she smiles to herself, a light mockery that's cautious and testing, easing herself into accepting your offer. "I wasn't aware you cared so much."

"You could starve if you'd prefer." You turn away as you speak and don't look back, shifting yourself back in your seat to be front-facing.

There's a quietness between the two of you, both waiting for the answer to your proposal. You have an inkling Arlecchino will accept, but you don't know with her. She never seemed especially pleased by the times the Jester would convene you all over meals and such, ending up in fights and bickering. She never fought with you, however, so perhaps it's different. 

"Order whatever you like."

You find yourself looking intently at a list of the options on the menu. It's quite a lengthy list. "Mm..." Even though it's just a false invitation and you're doing it to be courteous, you can't say you aren't enjoying the thought of picking out a meal and sharing it with her. Despite your removal from the Fatui's affairs for some time, you'd be lying if you thought you weren't at least a little curious. "Jade Parcels...and maybe Jade Fruit Soup? But Dragon Beard Noodles sound good too..."

Becoming slightly irritated by your indecision, Arlecchino looks across the table to where you are sitting deep in thought. "Is it that complicated of a decision?"

You spare her only a glance before returning to looking for something she would enjoy. "I have to pick something you'll like, don't I?"

Soup is more challenging to share than noodles are.

With that, your decision is made, and you settle. Despite yourself, you are somewhat restless in thought. Arlecchino's lack of contribution is slightly frustrating, but it sounds like she'd be content with anything. You're not sure if your choice is the correct one, but you believe you picked something to the best of your abilities that is easy, even to a foreign tongue. As far as you know, Arlecchino is from Fontaine. You've never eaten like this with Arlecchino to know her tastes or dietary restrictions.

"Jade Parcels and Dragon Beard Noodles. Sound good?"

"It'll do."

"Good. I'll go order it, then."

Arlecchino must be surprised that you returned, as she doesn't seem too thrilled. She never really does, but there was a disappointed glint in her eye right up until you walked in front of her to get to your chair. 

It continues until you get the food, and Arlecchino finally stares at it with an overwhelming sense of dread, left with an intense feeling of apprehension regarding whether. You appear not to hesitate, though this arrangement isn't quite what she had expected. Arlecchino had thought you would order enough dishes that you wouldn't have to share, but you seemed to understand it in a way that meant you would be eating from the same bowl.

You notice her hesitation almost immediately, yet your vexation with her arrival makes you unwilling to acknowledge that you know the reason, a deliberate miscommunication on your part. "Mm. I didn't think this through." Your words seem to make her perk up as if you will free her from her awkwardness by asking for another bowl. "You probably aren't used to using chopsticks, are you? Not many dishes that need those back home."

She knows you're toying with her, that sweet smile from across the table hardly hiding your true intentions. Arlecchino waits, watching to see what you will do next, as she looks back at you with a scowl. 

Her eyes do not leave you as you wordlessly collect a Jade Parcel and present it to her like you are patronising her with this action. Your feigned kindness, this supposed benevolence of you offering to feed her like a child, no doubt hoping she'll back down and excuse herself completely. 

She won't let you do that and have the satisfaction of seeing her back down. She won't allow you to break her facade of acceptance.

Though you circle the food in front of her slowly, only a motion with your fingers trying to convince her or make her as uncomfortable as possible, Arlecchino continues to stare for several more moments. Eventually, she musters the courage to relinquish some of her pride.

Arlecchino leans in slightly, just enough to open her mouth and take a bite from the food you hold out for her. Despite the circumstances that led to this moment, she can't help but acknowledge your good taste. Arlecchino couldn't possibly eat another bite that way, though. Not being fed by the woman who is now her adversary just to avoid her 'winning' in the situation, but admitting she is willing to let you get under her skin is not an option either.

She must treat this situation differently, as if you are merely feeding her out of obligation to her rather than because you have your own motives.

It hardly stops her from enjoying her portion of the meal from the chopsticks you share with her. At some point, it finally occurs to her that you only hold one pair, leaving her set untouched despite feeding her. You had been feeding her with the same set you ate with the entire time, and while you were well aware of that, it hardly seemed to alarm you as much as it alarmed her.

Your biggest disappointment was being unable to get rid of her that whole time, watching her readily accept whatever you tried to use against her. Watching a Harbinger practically bow their head and obey you, however, fuels your consciousness. It's like eye candy to think back and realise you did that.

It's another one of your quiet defiances against the Tsaritsa. You wonder how far you can take it.

As you stand from your seat, you stretch your arms above your head until you hear a faint pop as all the tension in your back relaxes. "I don't imagine you'll be leaving anytime soon."

"No. I have plenty of business outside of you." It's not a lie. She's got a lot to do in Liyue even without your presence, but you're a priority. 

You lean back over your chair, a mischievous little look on your face. "Do tell."

"You know that I can't do that." She's not amused by the attempt, either.

You straighten back to your usual height and brush it off in moments. "Unfun. I thought your loyalty to the Tsaritsa could be won over easily." 

She scowls. "Not by you."

"I see. You have standards after all."

She chooses to ignore your comment. Up until now, you have had quick-fire conversations, sometimes interrupted by a silence that drags on. This is no exception.

"Capitano truly believes you are dead." Arlecchino realises when she has caught your attention, and that time is now. She notices how your head tilts towards her ever so slightly, and your head raises. "For a time, he grieved, but it didn't last long. He has become fixated on the idea of revenge ever since he heard that Brighella's killer was running around boasting about their achievements with the authentic armour to support their claims."

Suddenly it makes some small amount of sense in your mind why they would want you to come back exactly. Capitano won't stay put forever. If he's stuck on vengeance, he won't rest until he exacts it. You weren't thinking about how much your stories would piss him off at the time.

When you spend an extended period of time silent and seemingly disinclined to answer, Arlecchino continues. "I want to show you to him."

You have subjected him to human emotions he's not equipped to deal with. Rightfully, you feel horrible like more of your failures are being wrenched from your corner and dumped out into the open for all to see. It doesn't matter that you're in Liyue, where nobody knows the two of you. You don't want them to see either. 

"He wouldn't want to see me." You don't think she really wanted to hear those words when you finally speak. Her expression gives it away. "He should enjoy his position without my interference. I've ruined his life enough."

"You've given him power and status, he should be grateful for that--"

"No. He shouldn't." You don't even wait for her to finish. She hasn't even realised it yet. Not the way you've been forced to. That power is a detriment, not a blessing. Why should he want that? "I thought that way as well, but now I…I don't think my choice was the correct one."

Arlecchino was not expecting to evoke your vulnerability, shallow as it may be for now. "What choice?"

"To bring him back from the abyss." 

From a purely objective perspective, taking in Capitano was the cause of everything. Arlecchino presumably thinks of it in the way you don't want her to, that you regret taking him in because he ultimately ruined everything for you, causing your world to fall apart. You don't. You wish you hadn't dragged him down with you.

Now Capitano still dealing with the consequences of your choices. He was perfectly satisfied where he was and would've remained that way had he not been caught up in your plans. It was your arrogance that made you think Capitano would prefer to come with you. At no point in your first interaction had he indicated he was displeased in his circumstances, only hostile because humans were so close to him. It is an understandable thing, considering that humans were a foreign concept to him and potentially posed a threat.

"Because he overtook you?" 

There it is.

Despite her words, she appears to have dropped her irritated expression and the impatience in her words and actions. You are finally speaking, and she won't lose that opportunity to an avoidable break in her temper.

"No. No, nothing like that." You try to find the words to explain it, even knowing she likely wouldn't understand it in her current position. You doubt she could ever comprehend it with how she treats her loyalty. "It's more like… Off the record, though I was cherished for many years, even I eventually became disposable. I have left Capitano in the hands of the person who caused that, and now I have damned him to the same fate."

Arlecchino is silent in thought, mulling over your words with great care. The tone of the conversation shifted right under your noses, and with it, so did her demeanour. She became relaxed in a way, though you imagine no less guarded than she always is. "I fail to see how your performance declined. In fact, you are more necessary now than you have ever been."

"I see." In your head, that means she's on your side to a degree. "So you believe that my termination was a mistake?"

"A grave error at best." Her words only confirm the way you thought of it. "Even if you had declined in performance, the people have begun to question more than ever, which sabotages the political landscape of Snezhnaya for those who care about it, the same people who stood idly by while you were ousted. Those who oppose the Fatui are pushing the notion that we must be weaker than we appear, because if even Brighella could die, then what does that say for the rest of us."

Though you wish you could say that concept was inconceivable, the idea that those fighting for reform would seize upon your demise as a means to spur change. It's not shocking that everyone else has been called into question, either. Though it is easy to push the role of frontrunner onto the Director, his duty is mainly administrative, as is the case with many high-ranking positions. His wrath is quick and brutal, and sparse. Dottore is too busy with his disgusting hobbies, and Columbina must remain in the light as a figure they can cling to. That leaves the position of Fourth as the one who is publicly the most violent and ruthless, which used to fall to you.

"I see. Is that why they want me to come back?" You don't expect an honest answer as you ask that question, half anticipating another play at your heartstrings.

"No." 

Frustratingly, she doesn't elaborate.

"I'll only agree to return if Capitano is free to do as he wishes."

She scoffs, somewhat returning to her brash attitude. "Even if I could make that decision, we're well past the point where that's a possibility."

You know that she's correct in that.

Still, you can't stop the sight you let out. You knew the request was wonderful in theory but inconceivable in practice, but asking never hurt anyone. "Then what do you want from me? I take it that though I'm only a stagehand, my part in the theatre is not yet over."

"Is that how you see it?"

"Answer my question."

"Execution."

You pause at her answer.

"Execution?"

You're not even sure you heard her correctly. The execution of who? Brighella has already been put to death, and Capitano has barely warmed his seat among the Harbingers. Nobody left in this is worth killing, given the precarious nature of the Fatui's support in the aftermath of Brighella's murder. It was already unstable, and now things are just worse, with no better word to describe.

You doubt they made the decision lightly.

"Execution. Your execution for the murder of Brighella and crimes against the state."

Your nerves instantly spike again, and your guard is higher than ever. At any moment, you could need to draw your bow and fight her because even though you're unsure of how to treat this life, you're not ready to give it up. No foe has scared you before, and neither will the prospect of rebuilding from square one.

"I see, so you've come to extradite me."

"You read my intentions horribly. I'm impressed you managed to make it so far like that."

You furrow your brows in annoyance. "Then what?"

"The values of the Fatui no longer align with mine." The assertion draws your attention more than anything else. You have always been aware that she is unconcerned with the ideas of loyalty and honour, which you can't fault her for. Abiding by the code of honour the Tsaritsa instilled in you left you here.

You may be completely wrong, but she was so vague and doesn't seem to be waiting to say anything else. "Is this your way of telling me you're deserting the Fatui?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You so happen to be someone I like." 

You're startled by that as well. As far as you were aware, the decision to do nothing in the face of your dismissal was unanimous. You thought Capitano was your only remaining ally. Even if she's the lowest ranking, that is not indicative of power in an objective sense but of authority. In a sense, she is the new 'you' of the Harbingers, as she always was to a degree. 

Blame for the disorder is shifting in your absence to her.

"Because I cleaned the messes you now manage?"

"Because you aren't cowardly and fixated on politics but inhibited by them. You are a model of what is right." You can't say you follow what she's saying but allow her to continue. "Pulcinella and even Pierro refuse to travel abroad, always making excuses to shirk their jobs when faced with danger in order to comfortably remain in luxury. From the day I joined, you stood out to me in that way."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by whatever she's trying to do right now. "Are you trying to flatter me into coming back?"

"I was telling the truth." She doesn't look impressed, either.

You feel a little embarrassed by that, suddenly feeling as though you really had responded quite rudely to an innocent statement. "Hearing a person idolise me is strange," you admit.

"It's not idolising." Her correction is sharp.

"Sounded close enough."

Silence again, as with the pauses scattered around the rest of your conversation. You aren't catapulting the topic into something of great interest or progressing, and neither is Arlecchino. Her lips press into a thin line trying to hide any cracks and stifle any emotion that slips through.

"I admire you."

You did not realise such a thing was possible, really.

"I thought you may have remembered the times we shared and think fondly of it, but perhaps not. We fought once- maybe twice- before. We drank together. Nothing else."

To end that statement with 'nothing else' as if to reduce every conversation, interaction, hour and experience to ashes is thoughtless at best. You didn't remember either instance in which Arlecchino believes you fought and still don't, though you try to now that you have come to find it apparently happened. If it did, the chances of you actually remembering is slim to none with how your memory is. It's not that you forget things quickly, but that minor events slip through the cracks in your frankly chock-full memory.

"I don't remember them, I'm sorry."

"I didn't expect you to."

Despite her words, there is a faint bittersweetness to it, the realisation you are insignificant to the person you aspire toward being like. Somewhere, even if she is aware it was always not only a possibility but highly likely, it still feels like a letdown, the fragile hope you might remember her strength. You only remember her drunken and all too enamoured by you to think properly. It is foolish of her to feel that way because you have battled many foes, and expecting you to remember all of them, let alone your underling, is unreasonable.

"You still haven't answered my question." Changing the topic, you take the opportunity to try to direct her back to what you asked in the first place. "Why are you really here?"

"The Jester gave me permission to pursue you, believing I would attempt to convince you to return to Snezhnaya after Columbina failed." As Arlecchino begins to explain, it slowly begins to make sense as the pieces fall neatly into place. "However, I have no interest in appeasing the wants of dignitaries who care only for their comfort."

You don't want that either. It's just a repeat of Capitano. "Do you understand how dangerous what you're doing is?" It's an attempt to remind her, but Arlecchino's unwavering expression tells you that reminders are unnecessary and unwanted.

"Yes, you were removed for less." She only confirms it for you. "Dottore is of the opinion that you will be forgotten, as are several others-" you imagine singling him out has something to do with them fighting all the time- "but that is simply impossible."

"Times change. You would be surprised how many things we thought would never be forgotten that humans have completely lost all knowledge of."

To her, that concept may be harder to swallow. Arlecchino has never seen the centuries roll by as you have and isn't as familiar with what does and does not remain. Even the greatest gods fell in the Archon War, and most humans cannot name any but the seven Archons. It is natural to forget and progress. The past is meant to become speculation and theory.

"I won't allow that." Abruptly she stops, though her sudden words startle you somewhat with how intense they are. That kind of illogical thought process is natural, maybe. You can't really say. "They could remember."

You shake your head in response, a firm denial before she's even begun to try and sell you on the idea. "There's no need for them to remember."

"There is every need."

"People don't glean the same admiration you do for someone they see as a tyrant."

"Then evoke fear!"

"Enough." You did not expect to have to put your foot down so harshly but do not hesitate to. "I won't entertain this."

Arlecchino grits her teeth at how easily you let go. Even though you are obviously not acclimated to civilian life, you refuse her offer that would allow you to return to Snezhnaya in a potential position of power. It is yet another failed step in the many she expected to have to take to convince you.

"Then let me hide you until some time passes."

"I'm not a precious treasure." She ignores how you roll your eyes at her, completely withdrawing how emotionally available you had managed to be. She can't let her anger take control of her again. "I can handle myself thank you very much." 

You sense she will not be giving up easily.

Even if you could convince her to leave you to your devices and that you would be fine, you doubt she would accept that. However, you have a feeling she knows you intend to disappear after this conversation. You have no idea why else she would pour her heart out in an attempt to make you easier to keep hold of. If you leave, you hold the advantage.

"I cannot continue to defend your honour while you stand by and allow them to do as they please with your name."

That doesn't worry you too much when you've been contributing to it since leaving. "Then give up. Let my name be tarnished."

Arlecchno's anger finally begins to boil over despite her efforts to contain it, rage spilling from the cracks in her composure. "You cannot have forgotten everything we did together."

"Of course I have not forgotten that." Your words are more fuel than suffocation to the growing fire.

"Then accept my help and stop being so stubborn."

"There's no need to."

She grabs you by your arm before you can step away, and you can feel a chill in her hand seep into your skin, likely a byproduct of her delusion. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't match well with how warm you are most of the time. "You would be willing to pretend you don't wish for normalcy to avoid confronting the Tsaritsa?"

"If I return to Snezhnaya, I will die." You lay it out as directly as possible, without an if, but or and. There's no room to debate this because the outcome will not change. Even if the two of you decide you're best friends, nobody else will see things that way, so it's pointless to pretend you don't see it as it has to be.

Arlecchino finally appears to consider your words more carefully, remaining silent again, but you do not interrupt her this time. You shift your focus to the icy hand still touching you and begin to channel what little you can of your vision without drawing your bow to warm her. You hope she doesn't notice it, not wanting her to find an ulterior motive in it.

"Then it is unavoidable."

You don't quite understand what she is saying until she removes her hand from you to place something on the table you shared.

Suspiciously, you eye the item as you wonder about the significance of abandoning it beyond the obvious, but you don't want to acknowledge that option. "You'll need your insignia if you wish to return." You needn't remind her of that, but it is a prompting statement.

Arlecchino shocks you with her next words.

"I'm remaining with you."

You stand in stunned silence for several seconds, replaying them over in your head. Remaining with you. She doesn't mean that, does she? This is another of her persuasion tactics, right? She cannot actually go through with this. "You're what?"

"I'm not going back to Snezhnaya."

That only confirms your fear, the chill of it rushing to the core of your being and lighting your nerves up with an icy cold. Maybe that's just the hand touching your cheek.

"You can't. You shouldn't. You should stay there."

She makes an odd face at you, half understanding of your plight and the other confused about why you care so much about what she does with her job. "In that place you curse yourself for leaving Capitano?"

"It's a comfortable position." You try to reason that way with her, pointing out the inarguable benefit.

"I don't care for comfort."

You scramble to find another reason, something else to make her give in and pick it back up. You have not gotten anything you attempted to get this night. Arlecchino didn't leave and is, in fact, intent on leaving the Fatui to continue that.

"I don't care to waste my time pandering to people who do not value what I provide for them, all the while relying on it."

That's not a reason you wish to say, but it is. It is a very real reason. You can see it in how the Fatui regards your circumstances that they have never found enough value in the mountain of work you took on. If they had, you wouldn't be having this conversation. She's right, you realise, she realised what you could not.

"Even if you do not allow it, I would be able to follow you." It's a strange thing to say, but maybe she was trying to convince you. Her arm falls back to her side.

You shake your head. "Humans tire."

"I won't be too slow."

It's different for her. Arlecchino doesn't hulk around a bulky suit of armour and a helmet to conceal her face. It is open and well-known. There will be places she can't ever travel to again. Her life will be this and nothing else, while yours will eventually become something else, as it was always supposed to. Even if you don't want to now, you will move on and find a new sense of self. She may never.

"There are grave consequences."

"I know."

"You may never know peace."

"I can live with that."

"You--" 

--will question everything you have ever known. That was what you were about to say. You again come to a realisation that clears things for you. It's different. Arlecchino has not spent her whole life dedicated to serving the Tsaritsa, only a few years at best. You spent centuries. It is no wonder that she could give it all up so easily. Arlecchino only had one foot in the door in the first place.

The realisation dawning on you this way is daunting.

"...Fine. I will accept that." Though you thought you would struggle more, you also understand that it is useless to do so.

"A good choice."

The act of conceding can bring about a sense of relief and comfort. Conceding feels nice, in a way. It is a respite from constantly controlling everything to be exactly as you wish. It allows you the freedom of simply acknowledging the reality of a situation and accept that it may not align with your ideals, even if you don't necessarily like it.

You don't want Arlecchino to accompany you for her sake, but accepting that she will not share your fate of being humiliated can bring about a sense of peace. She will live however she pleases, and that means she may not want for the same future you received. Having a free will allows her to leave.

Slowly, you try to recover from the shock of the situation. As you take in a deep, quivering breath, you begin to steady yourself and attemt to process all that is unfolding.

A single question comes to your mind, a relatively simple one but significant enough to matter greatly.

"What is your name?"

CROSSPOSTED ON AO3

[bratbby333]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ blog update ! ] ࿐ྂ

+ some housekeeping and info on new writing

hello my loves !! i wanted to give y'all some insight on what's been going on in my mind palace lately. there's a lot...so...cmon, take a walk w me...and maybe bring some snacks.

ੈ♡˳ first and foremost ! my work has received a lot more attention recently and i am so excited. with actual tears in my eyes, im happy to report that i surpassed 1,000 followers the other day. i am at a loss for words...just...stuck in a perma-state of disbelief.

im sending out the biggest thank you to everyone who has supported me, who's interacted with my work, to the lovely friends ive made though this account and to the heartbreakingly beautiful anime that brought me here in the first place. i am genuinely in awe...overwhelmed, even...i didn't expect any of this to happen when i started this blog and i am forever indebted to all of you for getting me here. im actively fighting off the inevitable surge of imposter syndrome as i type this out...i just love y'all so fucking much. this community means the world to me and i wanna scream at the top of my lungs in order to demonstrate my deepest appreciation for each and every one of y'all.

ੈ♡˳ secondly ! a message for my little angel babies, my day one followers; thank you for taking a chance on me. for watching me grow. for sticking around as i worked to get better at writing. im sure a lot of you started following me for my gamer!bf sukuna series...trust me, i love him and i know y'all do too. but i feel like my writing is heading in a different direction...and with a heavy heart, i'm absolutely gutted when i say that i am taking a pause on that series. i am forever grateful for the support and may return to him soon, though i cannot promise that. i owe so much of what my account is now to that series and i will never forget that.

for everyone who joined me as i delved into dark/dead dove content, thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me a safe space to explore different forms of story-telling. my choso fic was the first stepping stone and then i skipped every other stone on the path and jumped head first into the deep end with my dead dove gojo fic...i deeply appreciate all the positive feedback i received on both of those. after posting them, i realized that i am very into writing dark content. i know that taboo themes/dark content/dead dove subject matter isn't for everyone and i understand people's apprehension in regards to it. but with that being said, i will be moving forward with publishing darker content.

ੈ♡˳ so here's the writing update !

i did a poll asking y'all what kind of content you enjoy. a good chunk of people said long form fics (which is great, cause i do too !! mommy needs plot). so, i am migrating away from one shot writing. both because i've been thinking about it for awhile and because y'all are into longer stories, as well. but fear not, i will still write shorter stuff along with headcannons, drabbles, etc...it just won't be the main focus of my blog anymore.

ੈ♡˳ now, time for the big reveal ! perhaps it's a bit anticlimactic, but bear with me...

im so excited to announce that i have two new series coming ! it will be a dark, modern!au featuring choso (with a few other special guests) and a dead dove sukuna series.

i'm almost finished with the outlines, and have fully completed the theme layout + mood boards for both works. i hope to get the first few chapters wrapped up in the next couple weeks. if you want to be tagged in either of these (or both), just leave a comment or send me a message !

(also !! i may or may not be cooking up a dark medieval au series in collaboration with another writer on here...so be on the lookout for that hehe)

while i take breaks from writing my two series, i'll be working through my requests ! so if you've sent one in, i promise i will get to it, unless i literally cannot think of a good way to write it (im only human, im so sorry). also, im sure we already knew this, but im a slowww writer. i wish i could churn content out quick as fuck but i am too hypercritical of myself…it's both a blessing and a curse, honestly.

if you made it all the way to the end of this nightmare of a brain dump, i love you. if you've been with me for a while, i love you. if you're just now joining me, i love you. everyone who’s supported me in any way, shape, or form, i love you.

i present you with the sloppiest kiss with tongue (only if you want it, of course. i can also give you the tightest hug, the gentlest head pat, or my social security number...access to all my bank accounts? a mansion in the hills? my passport? hand in marriage? my first born child? literally whatever you want, babe).

okay !! i think that's all for the updates. feeling: very ambitious and motivated but also overwhelmed and mildly stressed but overall super excited for what's to come. im looking forward to this new adventure and i hope y'all come along with me ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

thank you again…for literally everything. yall hold a special place in my heart and always will. so, here we go !

see you on the other side, my loves.

— jade 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[pigeonwhumps]

Rules

Pets of the Silver Screen masterlist

Taglist: @maracujatangerine @clairelsonao3 @whumplr-reader @whumpinggrounds @bbu-on-the-side

Multiple times over the years, Agatha learns the rules.

2.1k

CWs: BBU, pet whump, kidnapping, collar, beating, stress positions, dehumanisation, non-con nudity (non sexual)

Agatha juts her chin out, poise perfect despite the tip-toe position she's been forced into.

"My name is Miss Agatha Stanbury, daughter of Lord Kenneth Stanbury. Let me go and you may get out of this alive."

Foster Montgomery smirks, pressing his knife into her neck, blood beading along its edge.

"I think I'd rather keep you. Nobody's going to find you, certainly not after I'm finished with you." He drags his knife down her front, slitting her clothes. They mostly stay on, but it must be a very sharp knife to manage that. "Take them off."

"No."

He holds up the knife, reminding her. "What did you say?"

Agatha swallows but keeps her poise. She's going to be an actress, she can pretend she has nothing to fear.

"I said no. You have given me nothing to wear afterwards and I will not follow your disgusting commands."

"I have more suitable clothing for you later, if you earn it. But if you won't obey willingly I'll have to do it for you."

Agatha's barely had a chance to process the statement when she's slammed to the ground. All her bones are jarred and her nose explodes with agony. A boot seems to grind her into the floor as Montgomery removes her clothing piece by piece.

She hates herself for thinking it, but at least he lets her keep her knickers.

He grunts in satisfaction, and hauls her to her knees. She shoves his hands away and stands, but is back on her knees in less than a second.

"Stay." He reaches behind him and picks up a leather collar complete with tag.

Agatha doesn't move when he reaches out and buckles the suffocating leather around her throat, but not out of obedience. She just doesn't think she can.

She reaches up to touch it, but Montgomery smacks away her hand before she can.

"Don't even think about it. I'll only ever remove it if you need a punishment that might interfere with the collar somehow, so if you do so yourself I'll assume that's what you're after. But you do still deserve a punishment. Bend over."

Agatha swallows hard, the soft leather and cold metal buckle pressing against her throat. She doesn't move. She only came down for the season, she's not going to obey a kidnapper who's apparently obsessed with turning her into a pet.

He couldn't find a volunteer? There's enough of them.

She pitches forward onto her hands and knees as he pushes her over, pulling her knickers down.

"Bare flesh is best for this. Pets obey. They don't say no. They don't talk back. You need to learn this."

Agatha has never had such a thrashing in her life as she receives then. No-one's ever drawn blood before. She's not passed out enough by the end to receive a reprieve though – he orders her to clean the house, and woe betide her if he finds a speck of dust or blood.

She experiences it all as if from miles away. As if from the gathering she's supposed to be at right now, with entirely different rules. She's not in her body, most of the time, and that's probably for the best.

That day and the next, she learns the rules of being Foster Montgomery's captive.

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address other people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

She adds an extra one from herself, too, which she knows is true. Montgomery giving her a collar is not just him being a sick bastard, it's theatre, another part of the pretense. Because even if he were to parade her in front of those she loves, everyone knows that only pets wear collars.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

Over the next few months, the rules don't change. The chores are hard, and the punishments harsh, and a lot more of her is scarred now. Very little of what Montgomery does has any logic to it.

But she still can't find an escape. She fears she's sinking into it.

_

When she's hired by Hayes Fletcher, more rules are added to the list.

9) Don't talk to the other pet.

10) If you disobey, it won't just be you who's punished.

Eloise won't receive whippings, of course, and no canings during the shoot, but she can be put in stress positions, or starved, or have a bucket of water dumped over her head before being left in the unheated studio overnight. And Agatha has absolutely no desire to subject her to anything other than a good hot meal and somewhere better to sleep.

_

Rule 7 is underlined dramatically by the inspector's visit. In the aftermath, Agatha's arm and back throbbing, blood pooling on the frozen stone floor that her toes are just able to touch, Eloise whimpering from her own position, Agatha makes sure to add another two rules to herself (though the second is altered after Eloise's angry objections).

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Even Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

_

Agatha could possibly escape during the transatlantic crossing. She thinks about it. Even jumping overboard might be better. But she needs to see Eloise again. Be sure that she's alive and physically unhurt (from the sinking at least, Agatha has no doubt she'll have been hurt since). Tell her that she's brave, and a hero, because if it had been anyone but fellow pets she'd saved, if she was anyone but a pet herself, her actions would've been lauded, but instead it's Hayes Fletcher who's being praised for having such a good pet. Which isn't right, it isn't fair, and Agatha can't leave Eloise on her own.

That's when Agatha solidifies the last rule for herself, that's been brewing since she first met Eloise but she's never stopped to think about it before.

13) Her and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

_

Then the Great War comes.

Foster Montgomery signs up to fight. He leaves Agatha in Hayes Fletcher's care, who lends her to the munitions factory, for good publicity and probably money (money for Fletcher? Money for Montgomery? She doesn't know. But neither man is big into philanthropy). Eloise isn't there. Agatha follows the rules Montgomery has already given her, hating the fact that they keep her alive.

Another few rules are added.

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

That last is... profoundly obvious, at times. When the rest of the workers get to go home at the end of their shifts and she is kept working, or if there's no-one else at all, locked in the breakroom until morning. When she's fed less than the others, or when she's beaten, or–

It's so obvious, even more so than when she was hired by Hayes Fletcher. She hates it. And she's so alone here.

The war will be over by Christmas, right?

_

1915. Foster Montgomery is dead, and Agatha desperately wishes she could thank his killer, if anybody even knows. She gets a new tattoo, signifying her ownership by Hayes Fletcher (luckily, she knows his rules, there's no new ones to learn there). The Munitions Act comes into force, and the regular bombing raids start.

Monkey's paw. She's not alone anymore, but it means that Eloise, and several other pets, have joined her in the munitions factory.

She teaches Eloise what she's learned about staying out of trouble where possible. They have a dedicated bunkroom now, pets crammed in on old bedding on the floors of the worst-maintained rooms. They learn that only a few owners have paid for their pets to be taken to air raid shelters.

Hayes Fletcher hasn't.

Night after night they spend, trying to stay calm as bombs rain down around them. Occasionally they're still chained or tied up at night, for punishments, and when that happens Agatha worries the most.

She learns one more rule.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

The war ends. By a miracle, her and Eloise are both still alive. Hayes Fletcher goes back to producing films, albeit with less success. Agatha watches as pet liberation campaigns grow, and the next decade approaches with force. The world seems a little more hopeful, things seem to be changing.

Except for her and Eloise. Stuck with the horrible, spiteful little man, punishments getting worse as he gets more frustrated and blames them for it (or maybe he simply has nowhere else to put his anger). The world's moving on, votes for women are coming, and she can't help but think of what her life might be like if she hadn't been kidnapped all those years ago.

She remembers rule 7. And the last time was dreadful, and another attempt could get them both killed, but she mentions her rule to Eloise one night and Eloise agrees. They have to try, don't they? Sometimes, it's the only thing you can do.

A week later, the film studio burns down in the middle of the night. Arson, probably. By the time the fire brigade arrive to the burnt out husk Agatha and Eloise are already sneaking onto a train to London.

_

"If the both of you want rules, I can give you some," says Ira, clearly reluctant, "as long as we can go through the ones you already have first. Is that all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ira nods. "Why don't you write me a list then? We can go through them while Eloise is busy."

Agatha takes the paper and pen she offers, wincing as she sits down, heart skipping a beat. She's still not used to it.

At the end of the session, her list reads:

1) Don't say no.

2) Only speak when spoken to.

3) Don't talk back.

4) Address people as sir or ma'am.

5) Always obey immediately.

6) Don't remove your collar.

7) Punishments are always deserved, always hard, and given at the slightest provocation.

8) No-one's coming to my rescue. I'm not getting out of here unless I do it myself.

9) Don't talk to the other pets.

10) If you disobey, it won't be just you who's punished.

11) Don't talk about the situation to outsiders. It will only make things worse.

12) Don't break the rules. Only if Eloise agrees to do so.

13) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other. (Ira says she can get rid of this one partially too, but she's not so sure. Not yet)

14) Don't become emotional.

15) Never make a sound.

16) Just because you're working alongside people, doesn't mean you are one.

17) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

The new rules are easy, and straightforward, and Agatha doesn't entirely trust them. The list now reads:

1) You belong to yourself.

2) You will never be punished, no matter what you do.

3) You and Eloise only have each other, and will always have each other.

4) Sometimes all you can do is pray.

_

Agatha kneels on the floorboards, trembling. It's her turn today, Ira asked her to clean and she said yes, she's not sure why except she's so used to not being allowed to say no.

She hopes she's done well. She hopes she's done well. She hopes she won't be punished.

Ira doesn't do punishments. But all the same, she hopes she won't be punished.

There's footsteps, then they stop.

"Agatha?"

"I've finished cleaning, ma'am."

A hand on her shoulder. "Agatha, please look at me. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Come on, look up."

Agatha obeys hesitantly. And gasps. Ira's eyes are dark and warm and how could Agatha ever have thought otherwise? Ira gets down to her level as Agatha grasps her hands tightly, pulling her into a rare hug.

"Rules one and two, Agatha."

"I belong to myself," whispers Agatha, still clutching Ira tightly, "and I will not be punished."

Ira's two rules. The only two she'll ever make.

1) I belong to myself.

2) I will never be punished, no matter what I do.

And there's a third, that Agatha has added herself, that she thinks she probably can after so long. Rule number 5, now Ira has been proven correct and number 3 has been partially removed (Agatha does not only have Eloise now).

5) Ira keeps her promises.

[alovelyburn]

Do you think the only thing that keeps Griffith and Guts so close together is their miscommunication? I read someone’s tags about them that basically were saying that if they worked pass their issues they would just find out they are completely incompatible and that’s why they never work as a pair in other AUs. I can’t stop thinking about it. Thoughts?

I'm pretty sure I saw that tag while I was bored browsing one day, and my reaction was the same then as it is now - what a weird take.

Okay we're going to address this in two parts - the fanfic/AU thing and the canon thing.

First up! Fanfic/fandom.

The claim that their apparent incompatibility is why they don't work out in AUs is already kind of odd - first of all what AUs are they reading? Because obviously they must mean fanfiction but if they don't think any Berserk fanfic ends with a happy ending for them they must not be reading a lot of Berserk fanfic? I mean I don't read a lot of fanfic and I've run into plenty of happy ending AUs.

But even more than that, speaking as someone who seemingly is incapable of writing a happy ending for them, I think any dearth of happy endings has more to do with the kind of person that tends to gravitate to G/G, really - or rather the tastes of said people - than it has to do with any like inherent incompatibility between their personalities. Because it's not exactly a happy/healthy relationship, so if you're drawn to it you probably enjoy bittersweet things or dysfunctional things or pain, so you might end up writing bittersweet painful dysfunction.

(Ima write a happy ending one day though I just have to locate an opportunity, lmao.)

Anyway that's the fanfic/fandom/au portion. Now let's talk canon.

I think the way Guts and Griffith's personalities interact, they can be incredibly good for each other or they can be incredibly destructive toward each other. I'll explain why I think that in a second, but basically it's just like, you're never going to get a middle of the road relationship dynamic with them.

So the explanation: they can be good for each other because the things one of them wants is always something the other is wholly capable of giving.

Griffith is plagued with self-doubt and thinks he's a terrible person. He's also incredibly guarded and emotionally locked up - he needs someone he can show himself to, good and bad, who won't turn away or think poorly of him because of the things he's done. Guts is absolutely a person who can do that - he doesn't think the things Griffith has been hating himself for are bad to begin with. He's a confidante, a co-conspirator, a cheerleader, and he sees Griffith's positive qualities in a way that Griffith himself struggles to do. Griffith also needs an outlet from the stress of his position, and no one else makes him laugh or relax the way Guts does. Guts also gets Griffith in touch with his own heart, which he spends a great time trying to suppress.

Guts is plagued with poor self-esteem and an inability to believe in his own worth. He has a hard time conforming himself to behavioral standards imposed by others due to his temper and his willfulness. Most of all he wants somewhere to belong, and for someone he admires and respects to respect and value him - he wants to be seen. And Griffith is absolutely the person who can do that - even before they know each other Griffith breaks his own rules to pursue Guts. Griffith provides a kind of structure to his life that he never was able to manage on his own - and still hasn't - but does so without being overbearing or controlling or taking him for granted. And Griffith, the person Guts admires more than anything or anyone, consistently demonstrates how much he values Guts not only as a soldier but as a person. He's also a package deal with the Hawks, Guts' only real family, and not only does Griffith see him, in a lot of ways Griffith can't see anything but him.

I mean that's just off the top of my head, but basically they are incredibly compatible - even the ways they're different are complementary - Griffith's mind strengthen's Guts' passion and vice versa. If they worked it out they really could do anything - secure a kingdom, sure. Leave it behind? Guts is the only one that Griffith could ever choose over his dream.

But there's also the other side of it - the way their fears reinforce and trigger one another when they make a misstep.

Take the actual canon sequence of events that destroyed everything for example:

Guts overhears Griffith saying some shit that didn't even apply to him to Charlotte, and because he has a hard time believing in his own value and worth, he immediately takes it to heart. He accepts the "fact" of his worthlessness as a given so immediately that he doesn't even bother to ask about it. Not Griffith, not Casca, no one. Instead he upends his entire life to try to address that thing that's bothering him. He doesn't tell Griffith he's leaving probably at least in part because he doesn't think it matters that much, but of course it does matter and that's where Guts' insecurity - the way he withdraws to protect himself - ends up triggering Griffith's self-hatred.

Now because of Griffith's self-loathing, he takes Guts' decision to leave via sneakout as a sign that Guts hates him and can't wait to get away from him. He accepts the "fact" of his repulsiveness as a given so immediately that he doesn't ask for an explanation or anything! He just goes into panic mode.

But because Guts is so insecure, he can't perceive Griffith's reaction as a personal issue and just takes it as a sign that he's still useful as a soldier and Griffith doesn't want to lose a tool. So it just makes him double down.

And his doubling down makes Griffith even more certain that Guts hates him because if he didn't why would he be so calm and sure about leaving?

Basically, once one of them is thrown off and takes an emotionally defensive step back, it triggers the other's insecurities which triggers the first one's insecurities and it just spirals into oblivion. Because if one of them starts the bad ball rolling, its very difficult for the other to be rational enough about it to slow the fall.

And so we can say they're perfectly capable of destroying each other, but we knew that because they do in canon.

But the thing is, it's a roll of the dice. Or more specifically, its a misplayed hand of cards or something, like they had everything they would have needed to win but they just made some missteps. And the reason they ended up making those missteps is... Destiny and Stuff.

But if you take the stringpulling deities out of the picture there's nothing that guarantees that they'd have to mess it up. There's no reason they couldn't turn out just fine.

It's a matter of trying to navigate those landmines long enough for the positive/supportive aspects of their dynamic to kind of wear those down a bit, really.

[hearts4golbach]

Light Shower. (Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader.)

part 16.

-

"but you made me want to plan out my last days on earth eating you."

-

I sat in my bed, debating which outfit I should choose. I looked at both options, taking into consideration which one sal would like more. I eventually made my decision and changed out of my pajamas. I felt excitement built up in my chest as I heard my mother call me. I made quick movements out of my bedroom, wanting to avoid being late because of her.

My mom sat in the living room alone, her eyes burned with panic and worry. "y/n, something bad has happened."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "what? is it dad?" my thoughts raced as panic started to set in.

"your father is fine." her forehead creased. she set her head in her hand. "we have to move. I don't want you to worry. we'll be fine. we just have to leave these apartments for our own safety." her eyes glistened. "I'm sorry I have to take you away again, hun. it's just right up the street, though. you can ride your bike up here every day if you must." she gave me a small smile.

"but we're happy here? we cant just uproot again, even if it's just right up the street. it's not fair." I tried to reason as I shook my head. I felt my face heat up with anger.

"you're not seeing the bigger picture, y/n. it's a must, it's for our own safety."

I dug my finger nails into my palms. "okay, so tell me why we're in danger."

"i- you just won't understand. you're too young." she brushed me off.

"thats not fair." I said sternly.

"you need to pack."

I turned away, fighting off tears so I wouldn't ruin my makeup. "I'm going to Larry's birthday party."

"that's fine." she muttered, turning back to her planner.

I rolled my eyes to myself and slipped on my converse. I ran down to Larry's apartment, my mood completely ruined. I continued to fight the urge to cry. I felt like I was being dramatic. I was moving a block away, why was I so upset?

"yooo, y/n!" Larry cheered, wearing a cheesy party hat and a smiley face pin that says 'birthday boy!'

"I want a birthday boy pin." I teased, pushing his chest to remove him from the doorway."

"someone's a little cranky." Larry retorted.

"someone needs to shut the fuck up." I rolled my eyes.

"were meeting everyone else at the place." he mentioned, brushing his fingers through his tangled hair.

"alright." I flashed him a fake smile.

Lisa walked out of her room in mom jeans and a white tee. "hiya, y/n! how are you?" her bright eyes met mine.

"I'm okay, Ms. johnson." I hugged her. "you?"

"oh, I'm just dandy, y/n. my little boys growing up too fast." her eyes watered.

I hummed in response, following them out the door to their car. majority of the ride was spent listening to Larry ramble about he was going to kick my ass in lazer tag. all I managed to do was roll my eyes at him.

ash, sal, Todd, and Neil were all waiting outside of the building. "well, you're awfully early!" Lisa called cheerfully, locking the car.

"we wanted to watch you give Larry his birthday spankings!" ash hollered, walking over to larry and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"I think you're the only one who wants to see that." todd said matter-of-factly.

"I've seen it many times before, this won't be anything new." sal joked.

"oh, shut up." Larry pushed past sal and walked inside. "I'm not that naughty."

"naughty?" ash repeated in a taunting tone. I snorted.

"naughty little lad, of course!" Neil smiled.

"you guys are bullies." Larry muttered.

we quickly checked in and paid, eager to 'kick eachothers asses' but I was positive that I was going to win along with whoever was on my team.

"I call sal and neil." Larry shouted, dragging them away.

"Wow, okay." ash scoffed. "at least I got Todd and y/n."

"sorry baby." Larry cooed.

sal looked at me and giggled. I smiled back at him weakly. he glanced at me once more, a worried glare in his eyes, before following Larry to the other side.

the three of is walked to the opposite area. we were the red team, I assumed, as the lights flashed and read 'red team.' the wall had an assortment of 10 vests messing hung up on hooks next to a rack holding toy guns.

ash and todd slipped on their vests easily as I stared cautiously at mine. "sals going to laugh at me, I'm going to look so stupid." I trailed off.

ash rolled her eyes. "be so for real."

"sal isn't like that, y/n. I'm sure you know that better than anyone." todd commented, wrapping an arm around me.

"I mean, yeah. but still-"

"y/n." ash interrupted. "don't overthink it." she gave me a gentle smile.

"okay." I sighed, putting on the vest and grabbing my assigned gun before following them out to the play area.

I heard Larry's maniac cackling from across the big room. "oh, fuck." ash face palmed.

"they're going to eat shit." Todd smirked. he rarely cusses, but when he does it never fails to make me laugh.

"okay, todd." I said sarcastically.

"what?" he was cut off by the buzzer, signaling for us to go.

the two of them branched off separate ways as I walked straight forward. I whipped around, hearing rustling behind me. I slowly took a step back gripping my gun like my life depended on my. hypothetically, it did. the silence that followed made my heart race faster than before. I quickly turned the corner to cover myself, making sure to watch my back. I bumped into a figure with a yelp. I quickly picked up my gun and aimed it at the blue haired boy.

"oh my god, sal. shoot me and I swear to God, I will-"

"I'm not gonna shoot you. truce?" he cut me off.

"I'm not so sure about that." I whispered, taking a step closer to him. I gave him a once over, i adored how the vest hugged his body. I would have been drooling if I didn't keep my composure around him. "go on, shoot me." I smirked.

sal laughed quietly, "I'll let you go this time, little missy."

I snorted. "little missy?" my hand ran down his arm.

"why are you fucking with me right now?" he hissed, lashes fluttering. "n-now is probably the worst time to seduce me."

"oh yeah?" I quickly lifted my gun and shot him in the chest. "that was my goal."

sals eyes narrowed. "You little traitor. I'm going to get you back."

"how are you going to do that?"

"just wait until my dad leaves for work." he leaned in, whispering. I turned to watch as he walked away, feeling giddy. I shook myself out of it, quickly turning the corner. I was stunned to see Larry peering around the corner. my heart skipped a beat. luckily, his back was towards me.

with a small smirk on my face, I called his name. he whipped around, gun pointed. I shot him first. "you little shit!" he shrieked.

I flipped him off. "eat shit!"

Larry looked at me stunned. "fu-" The buzzer went off, as if it was censoring the shit he was about to yap at me.

I can to the doors as Larry chased after me screaming profanities. I smiled as the light coming from the open exit doors drew closer.

I tripped. Larry let out a psychotic laugh, staring down at me on my hands and knees. i quickly turned around, grabbing the back of his knees, making him fall as well. While he was temporary disabled, I made a sprint for the door. I threw myself behind sal and Ash as larry came up the walkway red as a tomato. he glanced around before finally noticing me.

"come here, y/n! I'm going to-"

"What a sore loser!" Ash teased, catching Larry off guard.

larry just rolled his eyes in response and crossed his arms. he jutted his bottom lip out. "shut up."

ash rolled her eyes and turned to me, giving me a high 5. Larry rolled his eyes so hard, it looked as if he was trying to see his itty bitty brain.

I looked down at my crusty old shoes while the others bickered. I remembered the way my mom told were moving. it wasn't a huge deal, of course, we were only moving a few blocks down the road. but I knew it's affect everything. Maybe not in a bad way, but things

would change. I started hold back tears, I thought about how I was finally comfortable in the apartments. It but as if the rug had just been swiped from under me.

"y/n, you okay?" sal whispered, patting my shoulder.

"Uh, yeah." I stuttered. he squinted his eyes at me and tilted his head, signaling to the hall adjacent to the group.

I sighed and gave in giving a small nod before following him down the hall. I glanced back, watching larry is he pretended to make out with himself. I rolled my eyes and turned my head back to the blue haired boy walking in front of me.

as we approached the end of the hall. sal stopped and leaned against the wall, looking at me "whats wrong, love?"

I sighed, looking at him through my

lashes. "im moving. Not far, but im still angry about it. Everything finally started feel okay."

i could tell he was frowning under his prosthetic. "where are you going?"

"Right up the street." I leaned against the opposite wall. "It's less than a 10 minute walk."

"See? there you go. everything will be okay, y/n."

"Yeah, I know." I smiled softly, feeling the weight begin to evaporate off my chest.

"let's go back, sweetheart." He smiled.

-

I sat across from sat in his dimly lit dining room. His face was still mostly bandaged, leaving his bad age covered. my mother and his father chatted as we sat and stayed silent. I didn't want to interrupt, so we stayed silent as we made silly faces or played footsie, forgetting about our food.

"that's enough, you two." Henry sighed, rubbing his full belly. "either finish or off to bed."

we collectively groaned and made our way off to bed.

[mageofseven]

If matchups are open may I request one? I’m fine with being matched with any of the boys.

My pronouns are he/him. I have a shy personality and can be socially awkward especially around new people. People often see me as aloof and closed off but in reality I am just very anxious in social settings. I also have trouble trusting and opening up to people so I always take things extremely slow when it comes to new friendships/relationships. Around people I trust I am much more extroverted and confident in myself. I still have a habit of hiding my struggles though mainly because I hate making people feel worried about me so I tend to act like everything is fine even when it isn’t. I’m very protective of the people I care about and I also tend to be the cheerleader of my friend group since I will support them no matter what.

My hobbies include dog training (positive reinforcement only), hiking, spending time in nature especially since I live in a wooded area, meditating, listening to music, and reading. I am big on environmental conservation and treating others with kindness. People who are hateful or judgemental of others make me uncomfortable and I am very sensitive to things like that because I feel bad for the people who are being talked about in a negative light. I’m not into things like trends and I’m usually completely out of touch with celebrities and things like that which can sometimes make it hard for me to relate to people my age.

My dislikes include gossiping, being center of attention, being far from nature, and not being able to have space when I need it.

I have OCD and this can cause me to be extremely paranoid especially when exposed to one of my triggers. I also have compulsions which I am embarrassed of and I get intrusive thoughts daily. This is why I am passionate about things like therapy, understand psychology, and practicing coping mechanisms like meditation which has helped me a lot.

Hmmm. Okay~

So two Boys popped into my head for you, but one way more strongly than the other.

Because of this

I pair you with...

Solomon

Honestly, I think you're quiet and aloof nature would be too tempting for this man and he'd love teasing and flirting with you just to see what reactions he can get out of you.

Whether you love him or hate him at this point doesn't really matter--you are stuck with him.

Over time, this cute pest of yours would get to know you easily to the point where he knows what your feeling from exactly one muscle twitch in your face. I know, it's weird, but this sorcerer man has been around for a hell of a long time and has become an expert at reading people.

When you two get closer, he'll stop messing with you in ways he knows you hate and will only tease you in small ways.

In truth, this man won't be able to recognize when he gets so protective of you, but once he sees it in himself, he just accepts it and goes with the flow he's found himself in.

Again, this man can read you incredibly well so even if you try to hide your emotions, you'll fail with him. When he sees you getting overwhelmed, he finds a way to get you out of the situation that's causing it. If he can tell your mind is racing with bad thoughts, he'll try to distract you or ask if you'd like to talk about them. This is a man who notices every little detail about you and uses that info to take care of you the best he can.

On the interest side of things, I can see him also loving reading and being in the outdoors. This man often goes searching for his potion ingredients and would love if you tagged along.

Over all, he'll be a thorn in your side, but one you will grow to love and be grateful for 🥰

[strongfuck]

five songs that remind you of your muse.

tagged: @dahlborn ; thank you!! tagging: @protodroid, @general-kalani (knoxx), @munro-of-europa, @love-seared, @phaseshiftings, @lowerqualityrp (jack), @manaborn, @cnlyluck, @irrfahrer, @auroradicit (theia), anyone else who sees this and wants to! i'm not sure who's been tagged before or not, lmao

COOL KIDS // echosmith.

He sees them talking with a big smile But they haven't got a clue Yeah, they're living the good life Can't see what he is going through They're driving fast cars But they don't know where they're going In the fast lane, living life without knowing And he says I wish that I could be like the cool kids 'Cause all the cool kids, they seem to fit in I wish that I could be like the cool kids Like the cool kids

i think a recurring theme for rhys from beginning to current state of his character arc is that he always feels he has to be Something More. handsome jack was a goal to strive for in his years with hyperion (and adapting to hyperion work culture was necessary for him to survive), and then after that he tries so damn hard to match the borderlands' idea of megacorporate culture. of course he's incapable of completely drowning himself out-- he still made friends while with hyperion, and he still does a lot for sustainability tech/general philanthropic work with atlas instead of just focusing on weapons-- but rhys will always end up compromising himself some way or other. just because that's the nature of the world he wants to live in. in his head he has to do even the things he doesn't like to maintain the power and position that allows him to do the things he wants. by nature of having "things he doesn't like" it also makes him feel he doesn't fit in with the rest of the megacorp CEOs out there who presumably have no issues doing what has to be done.

KILL YOUR HEROES // awolnation.

Well I met an old man dying on a train No more destination, no more pain Well he said one thing: "Before I graduate Never let your fear decide your fate" I say you kill your heroes and fly, fly, baby don't cry No need to worry 'cause, everybody will die Every day we just go, go, baby don't go Don't you worry we love you more than you know

quintessential rhys song, and the title of my blog's desktop theme for almost 2 years lmao. even after killing thousands on helios and killing even more after, even after all the pain and trauma the guy he latched himself onto parasocially for years put him through, man's just gonna keep going. i think it's meaningful he was there for some version of his hero's last moments and then got to conquer him himself; he never needed to model himself after anyone to succeed, anyway.

EARTH // xiv hours.

You're gonna lose it all And find yourself on your knees So, get a grip and you might Flow, reverse the great, slow bleed I've tried patience, but You always want a war This house won't tolerate any more Stop this right away

corporate baby turned corporate dilf rhys! i think his arrogance will always be part of him, even though the events of tftbl humbled him. and despite the lessons he learned he doesn't have enough grit to completely turn the tide of the megacorp culture in the borderlands, either. he is a prisoner of a system that existed before he even knew about it, but he's trying his best within it anyway.

BABE RUTH // coin.

Now that I'm busy I broke it all down I miss you coming over, yeah Every now and then Swinging for the fences, swinging for the fences You got me swinging for the fences, swinging for the fences, yeah

embarrassingly my favourite track to listen to when i'm doing shippy/smutty stuff with rhys (and my #1 played song according to spotify for the year 2022, wtf). he sacrifices a lot of normalcy/living a relatively ordinary life for his Big, Big dreams, but it doesn't stop him from falling in love headfirst and wanting simplicity, anyway. he tells himself he knows his priorities and work always comes before everything else-- especially considering the work that he's doing and how many lives he's improving-- but the selfish romantic in him will Always Exist, much to his annoyance. he's mature enough to let love go if he can't have it, but "he misses it, every now and then".

THE HIGH ROAD // broken bells.

'Cause they know and so do I The high road is hard to find A detour in your new life Tell all of your friends goodbye It's too late to change your mind You let loss be your guide

rhys is so fucking lonely by the time of BL3 and by extension new tales from the borderlands, but it won't take him off the path he's chosen. yes, he has friends. yes, he always has people to talk to. but everyone who knows him as Just Rhys are all scattered across the galaxy, and he can't even contact a good number of them, and this knowledge of the friends he can no longer see will always quietly hollow him. it's got to be worth it, of course-- he's making his dreams come true, he's making up for shitty things he's done, he's making it big... but sometimes he'll wonder what if he just stayed with fiona, sasha, and vaughn? what if he really escaped the corporate world and just became a regular guy? he didn't owe promethea anything when he chose to save it after atlas 1.0 destroyed it to high hell, he didn't have to do it. rhys doesn't necessarily regret his chosen path, that said, but it doesn't stop him from wondering what could have been when the loneliness really hits him.

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

3, 15, 26

In regards to THIS post

3. Top 3 sibling relationships:

Ian and Lip, they are so close and each others best friends (before Mickey and Ian became best friends, but even still it's a different kind of best friend when it's your spouse). Always looking out for one another, not afraid to tell each other the truth about the shit they're pulling. They are each other's biggest fans and pillars of support.

Fiona and Carl, it reminds me a lot of me and my brother, the older sister looking out for the younger wild brother. But they being close and loving towards each other without Fiona coming off as all controlling or completely mother like. Like yeah Fiona basically raised him, but he remembers Monica before she left, not like with Liam and Fiona who he doesn't remember shit about Monica and called Fiona Mom for the longest time. Fiona and Carl have their spats but they love each other so much and he can always go to her for anything. The part when he was 'White Boy Carl' after he sees that Nick killed that kid and he ran home to Fiona is like ENGRAINED in my head because that's SOOO similar to my brother and I, minus the murder.

Mickey and Mandy are SO close, which is basically me and my brother now. Mickey would kill for Mandy, he is protective of her and would beat the shit out of anyone who hurt her (the fucking deleted scene with him grabbing the bottle to hit Kenyatta with makes me so fucking mad that it was deleted) when he could, if he knew about Terry fucking with Mandy he would have murdered him then and there, no doubt in my mind, I am 1000% positive that Mickey didn't know about it or he would not have stood for it. The whole butterfly effect for him and Ian getting together was Mandy and her telling Mickey that Ian had fucked with her (at least canonically) He would burn the world for his sister. Coincidentally I believe that Mandy would do the same for Mickey. If he needs her she is there, especially telling him to get his head out of his ass in regards to Ian after he gets back from the army. Plus they were so close in age, they genuinely hung out with one another (playing video games) and greeted each other like siblings should none of that bullshit "hi sis hi bro" crap.

15. Top 5 episodes:

Now that I'm trying to think of episodes they all suddenly get wiped from memory.

10x12 Gallavich! for obvious reasons.

I can't decide between 2x3 and 2x4 because of the Fiona parts. Her calling that lady a cunt and then her hiding at Frank's was funny as hell. "Oh my god I'm you!" and the joke she makes to Vee before finding the purse where Vee calls all the guys Fi has been with pussies and Fi says they are what they eat. Makes me laugh my ass off every time.

4x11 Emily. Mickey's coming out scene was epic, and even though he got beat to hell, it didn't kill him, Terry didn't kill him, he survived.

7x11 Ride or Die, though it kills me when Mickey goes into Mexico and Ian doesn't, their reunion makes me cry. And I can't forget my dock sluts and the absolutely raunchiest full fledged enthralling make out session they have together. It's the most all encompassing kiss and love I've ever seen.

10x10 with Ian proposing and beating the shit out of Byron for insulting Mickey are the BEST.

26. 3 worst inconsistencies

When Ian tells Mandy in season 2 "You're lucky your mom's dead" and later in season 10 Mickey says she ran off. I am adopting the HC from @swiftfootedachilles's (which for some reason tumblr won't fucking tag) HC off my HC that Mandy's mom died in childbirth and Mickey's mom raised her, that Mickey and Mandy's mothers were sisters/twins and Terry was fucking them both.

How long Mickey was in prison before breaking out/the detective saying that Ian had visited Mickey in prison on multiple occasions but we only saw one. So how many times Ian saw him/he was in prison longer than the show let on because it only seems like maybe a year.

FIONA STRAIGHT DITCHING THE KIDS WHEN SHE NOPES DOWN TO FLORIDA OR WHEREEVER THE HELL SHE GOES. Yeah Lip and Ian are of age now, but SHE IS STILL THE LEGAL GUARDIAN OF DEBBIE CARL AND LIAM, ESPECIALLY LIAM. It always makes me so mad that it seems like as soon as she gets custody then she's just like nah fuck ya'll Imma do me. I get doing things for yourself, but damn fiona.

BONUS

In the Hall of Shame episode where Mickey and Ian are fighting, Ian firstly saying that Ian only has 80% of his heart, and then Mickey saying "it's better than going off and having another bipolar episode, oh I'm Ian I don't know which way is up or down or up."

Season 4 and 5 Mickey would have beat the shit out of himself if he heard him saying that. He is always so sensitive and caring with Ian's bipolar, but nahhh let's toss that shit out the window to make a good fight seem realistic.

[violets-in-her-arms-writes]

WIP Wednesday Tag

Thank you @rubywrite for the tag ! ♥ (even though it took me 3 days to answer XD) It forced me to write on my main WIP, so thank you so much !

RULES:

In a reblog (or new post/w rules attached) post up to five filenames of your WIPs, not titles, file names

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be something you wrote in the last 7 days (we're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to post!)

After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway and then 3 more on another to share!

That's it! You can invite others to join in or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request.

I usually name my WIP documents with the (temporary) title, so I'm afraid it won't be very interesting but anyway, here are 5 of my recent-ish WIPs:

🦇 La Fledgling (version complète) → doc where I compile all the things I've written for this WIP, because otherwise they are separated in "chapter 1" to "chapter 11" documents, but I like to have a complete doc to know how many words I have

🧜‍♀️ Mermaid AU → not very original since this is, you guessed it, an AU where the two main characters of the Fledgling are mermaids (well, one is currently drowning but I only have 600 words, I'll get to the mermaid part one day). It's a baby WIP, something I write for fun when I don't feel like writing for the main WIP. I might try my hand at a soulmate AU next, but I need to decide what kind and that's gonna need a lot of thinking (15 minutes to three business weeks, basically).

🌠The Wishing Star → it was my Camp NaNo project, about a woman who wants to become a pilot in a war-torn galaxy but first has to serve in a postal ship. Unfortunately, the ship is attacked but the resistance, she discovers she's adopted and has to fight to liberate her birth planet. Poor girl. It's currently on hold, because I was tired of it by the end of April XD

🐍The Witch's Time (tome 3) → the love of my life and bane of my existence. I'm stuck in the middle of this book, I need to cut half of it and put it in the 4th book and figure out... so many things. I printed the first two and they are soooo pretty. Unfortunately, this third book is kicking my ass. I'll be back Llewella, I swear, but I need time. It's not you, it me (I say, like a liar). It's technically an AU of another project of mine, but it grew a mind of its own and now I'm attached.

👽 Le truc avec les aliens (tome 2) → technically, its name is "Empire Déchu, tome 2 - La malédiction de Suli" but that's way too long so I just call it 'the thing with the aliens' because, really, that's what this is. A novel. With aliens. And a poor girl kidnapped and hailed as the saviour of a dying sect who want to resurrect a dead guy.

Now that I'm face to face with a few of my WIPs, I realized a lot of them have English titles, for some reason. I mean... I know why "La Fledgling" is called that (hint: it's because i couldn't find a good equivalent in French. Come on, jeune ? Débutante ? That's... not good. I'm not writing about a noble woman making her debut in society, be serious). But the others are just... choices. It sounded good and now it's stuck. Ok, maybe not 'the wishing star' because I don't like this title, but for WsT it's too late. I'm three books in, I can't go back.

Excerpt behind the cut, because this post is getting a little too long.

Excerpt:

"What do you want?" I asked her without giving her a chance to say anything.

As much as I hoped she would call me with something positive to say, I had known Anaëlle Charles since kindergarten. If she called me, it was always a bad sign.

"Jo, dear, I could use your help."

"Yes, I know. That's why I asked you what you wanted, moron."

I got up from my warm and cozy bed, still talking, put my phone on speaker the floor, and began to fumble for my clothes in the dark. Where the fuck was my left sock ? I was pretty sure my shirt was inside-out, but I doubted anyone would notice where I was going. Wherever that was.

Please dont let in be the swamps again, I prayed while putting my boots on.

"I'm... in trouble."

I was about to tell her that, yeah, obviously she was in trouble, she wouldn’t be calling at four in the morning if she wasn't, but something in her voice stopped me. It didn’t sound like the «I’m lost in the swamps again» kind of troubles, not even the «I think my magic is trying to eat me (again)» kind of trouble, both of which I could solve with my eyes close (mostly). It sounded… Like the bad kind of trouble. The one I wasn’t awake enough for.

Before I could ask her what the fuck was going on and why she sounded so… off, she went on, her voice almost as low as a sigh. Her breath sizzled in the receiver and I could hear her fingernails clicking against something metallic.

Ana was good at pretending, but she always ended up betraying herself.

"I'm at 23 Boulevard de l'Aube. Come get me. Hurry."

She pulled the phone away from her, shouted something I didn't understand, and hung up.

Tagging : @ladyniniane, @flowerprose and @amewinterswriting if you want to play (even tho it's not wednesday...)

[lady-phasma]

Hi, are you open to read any Aemond Fics of a kind of newbie? I‘m trying to write my first multichapter fic rn but doesn’t seem to get any interactions bcs of my lack of followers. Or do you have any tips on how I could increase the interaction?

That's awesome, anon! I'm so flattered that you asked me. It's so exciting that you are starting a multichapter fic. They are sometimes tough but you don't have to rush.

Sure! I can't take time to thoroughly beta for anyone new at the moment but I will gladly read over parts that you might be struggling with. I usually answer DMs in a timely manner, so you can hit me up if you want. I don't want to assume that you have read my Aemond fics so check those out to make sure you like my representation of him (even if you just skim them). I split him into two headcanons: my main "version" is the one I feel is the most in character in my series Philosopher Prince and my self-indulgent Helaemond series (now complete) Steadfast. Most of my one-shots align with the version of him from Philosopher Prince, though I do write him in a variety of ways based on certain requests that pique my interest or challenge me.

Tips on interactions... well, the main thing I have learned is using what feels like, to me, too many tags. For a while I wouldn't tag my fics with "Ewan Mitchell" because it felt misleading, but I do now. The same works on Tumblr get far more interaction for me on AO3 because the tagging system is more specific and, for some, easier to use. On Tumblr you have to use as many tags as you can to engage with readers. I've found that tags on Tumblr do two main things: draw people in and/or serve as the warnings. I write smut so most of my works will come under the "mature content" community label, but I also include smut tags on the chapters that contain that. Because searching Tumblr isn't very easy using variations of tags is important. Example, if you write Aemond x Reader try using all the variations on that: "Aemond Targaryen x reader" or the gender if you want x fem!reader or x gn!reader, also add the "Aemond x you", and every variation of his name that people might follow (Aemond One Eye, Kinslayer, etc). All that applies to any ship, include as many variations as you want. I always use the generic "HotD fic" & "House of the Dragon fic" and their variations to reach casual readers who might not be looking for Aemond in particular. It takes a lot of time but it's important to use them on your initial posting so the fic shows up in the tag search.

The only other tip I have is that you should occasionally reblog a new chapter. I don't think there's a set rule for this and I feel really guilty when I do it. It helps because I have readers in many time zones who might not asked to tagged and the first post can get buried in their dash. I do this about 12-24 hours after. Then, sometimes I go back after an increase in followers and reblog my lowest performing first chapters (or all of a series periodically) to reach those new followers.

Lastly, because this has gotten long, interaction is nice and positive reinforcement does help me write more but that is not my motivation for writing. I write what I want to read. Not to say that I don't read other fics! I certainly do. But I usually start a fic because that niche hasn't been filled or doesn't have enough already. If you are writing what you want, what you enjoy, then the readership is secondary. It also takes time to get readers and it shouldn't be perceived as a reflection of the quality of your writing. I have been on AO3 for a long time and have quite a few subscribers over there. It's possible some of them are here too and they prefer to read on Tumblr; that was a base I probably started with that you won't have. But don't get discouraged. I write for myself, throw it out into the void, and sometimes people read it, and sometimes they enjoy it.