#murders anyone who touches her sword

[theriverbeyond]

NINTH SAINT TO SERVE THE KING UNDYING

[thewertsearch]

@manorinthewoods asked: Vriska and Eridan have now killed one person each. Tavros and Feferi's respective moons have been destroyed; as such, they cannot be revived via dream selves or the moon-crypt slabs. What do you think will happen now? ~LOSS (18/5/24) @manorinthewoods asked: Welcome to Murderstuck, aka Homestuck's version of Canaan House. Who do you think's going to survive this? ~LOSS (22/5/24) Anonymous asked: tavros and feferi are D----EAD! do you think they'll stay dead? you've already stated your opinion that there are death flags like crazy all over vriska, so do you think anyone else will die? if so, who? Anonymous asked: Now that the bodies have started to hit the floor, what's your prediction for who's gonna survive to meet the humans?

I'm actually doing to do something a little different this time, and analyze the situation primarily from an author's perspective, rather than an in-universe one. I had a lot of fun doing that with yesterday's Kanaya post, so I want to try it again.

Let's enumerate the remaining trolls, in ascending order of how likely I think they are to kick the bucket (😳) during Murderstuck.

There's no chance whatsoever that Sollux will die. His Doom prophecy is fulfilled, and if he were to die a third time, it would break his long-established duality theme. Plus, he'd have predicted it, and would have been complaining about it since Hivebent. He's fine.

Death flag score: 0/10.

We just got Aradia back. She's not even involved in Murderstuck, seemingly travelling to the Furthest Ring after being resurrected, so none of the murderers can touch her anyway.

Aradia is a powerful time manipulator who can freeze even the most dangerous enemies. It would take a lot more than Eridan and Gamzee to defeat someone who can stalemate Perfect Jack, and I predict that she'll survive the rest of the Act with ease.

Plus, killing her again so soon would feel really cheap. Been there, done that.

Death flag score = 0.5/10

Karkat and Terezi are too important to die.

This doesn't always guarantee a character's survival - A Song of Ice and Fire comes to mind - but ASOIAF kind of proves my point, doesn't it? Martin can throw all the Red Weddings he likes at us, but everyone still kind of knows that the really important characters aren't going to die until their arcs are complete. If A Dream of Spring ever actually comes out, Daenerys will still be around, and you can take that to the bank.

So no, I don't think Karkat and Terezi will be going anywhere. Now that Kanaya appears to be dead, they're undeniably the most important trolls remaining, alongside Vriska. And we'll get to Vriska.

Death flag score: 1/10.

I know it's weird to predict that an already deceased character won't die, but I wrote an entire post last night about why I believe this to be the case.

tl;dr: it doesn't make narrative sense for Kanaya to stay dead.

Death flag score: 2/10.

Now, we're onto the characters who I think might actually die.

Gamzee's still alive at the end of the countdown, so he'll at least survive the next couple of hours.

Certainly, his position seems rather precarious. His stated intent to wipe out the entire Veil will make him a lot of enemies very quickly - and based on the image above, he clearly gets into some sort of trouble. That scratch almost looks like it could be the work of Jack's sword.

However, I have a hard time believing the Most Important Character In Homestuck is going to die less than halfway through Homestuck. He's been saying all sorts of cryptic nonsense lately, and he strikes me as someone whose role in the story will expand even more than it already has. Gamzee is the one character on this list we know will stay relevant for the entire comic.

I don't think he's going to achieve his murder mission, of course. I think he'll probably be 'defeated' somehow, and expelled from the Veil by the surviving trolls, only to pop up again sometime later. There's still a chance that he'll be killed - but if he is, I'm 100% sure that he'll return in some form. Gamzeesprite would be even worse than Calsprite, in my opinion.

Death flag score: 3/10.

Yes, I still believe Vriska will die - but I don't know if she'll die in Murderstuck.

Scratch positioned her as someone who will perpetuate a monumental, large-scale mistake, and I don't think there's anything she could do on the Veil that fits the bill.

However, Vriska is more imaginative than I am. She could easily pull a trick out from up her sleeve that I didn't see coming - some terrible, horrible idea that earns all of Scratch's foreshadowing in one fell swoop. Vriska is known for her Incidents, and you never know when the next one is on the horizon.

Death flag score: 4/10.

There's not a lot tying Equius and Nepeta to the Veil, is there?

They don't have strong relationships any of the remaining trolls, and even among the B-team, they've barely had any prominence since we've left Alternia. Killing one or both of them would up the stakes of Murderstuck without introducing the narrative issues that, say, a dead Karkat would cause.

Plus, if one of them dies, then the other would immediately gain an incredibly strong motivation, and become a more prominent character overnight. I already like Nepeta - but a heartbroken, vengeful Nepeta hunting Eridan down across time and space? That's a fucking arc.

They could also both die, and return to the story from another direction. It hasn't escaped my notice that almost all the 'important' trolls are Prospit Dreamers, and the two Furthest Ring explorers are Derse girls. I've been wondering for a while now if the solution to the Veil's bloated cast is to split the trolls back into the Red and Blue Teams, with the Red Team joining the kids outside the session, and the Blue Team joining Aradia in the Ring for some secondary mission. I guess that implies Tavros will be resurrected, but there do seem to be hints that that might happen.

I don't want either of these two to die, but... well, killing them would raise a lot of interesting possibilities.

Death flag score (both of them together): 6/10

Death flag score (one of them) : 7.5/10.

Eridan is screwed.

Neither the story nor the trolls can allow him to ally with Jack and lead him to the Veil, and they'll do anything they can to stop him. I don't think anyone's inclined to show him mercy, either - Kanaya and Feferi were very popular.

I don't really see any way out for him. He has no allies, he can't Hopesplode everyone at once, and he's never shown himself to be particularly resourceful. I think if there's one troll practically guaranteed to be Murderstucked, it's him.

Death flag score: 9/10.

[loganbcrnes]

Captain Syverson & August Walker in the viking era (part 1?)

ok i just love a good old viking headcanon. I cannot stop imagining a bunch of my favourite characters in the viking era, totally feral and just fucking all the time sjdjsjd.

Henrys characters fit perfect for this era with their gruff beefy look. also this turned out kinda soft??? anyways enjoy!!

might do a part 2 if anyone is interested, just let me know! readers body type and ethnicity isnt described.

No warning, but mentions of smut, everything is consensual even though it may not seem it lol.

Captain Syverson

Sy grew up on a farm with his mother and father. he'd definitely be of Norwegian heritage. a farm boy at heart, grew up to be a fierce warrior after his parents were killed. Everyone feared The Captain, rumors spread like wildfire, to the point people thought he was sent from the Gods, or that he was a warrior god himself. he'd sail the seas around the world raiding, pillaging and trading. but deep down he was a romantic at heart and a traditional man. He longed for devoted love, a love he saw in his parents. He waited for a long time before he would finally meet you. because deep down, he wanted to go back to the farm, live a peaceful life as a husband to his wife and a father to his children.

eventually he would meet you, a woman who was taken from her home to be a slave to a king in Sweden. As he was pillaging the town to kill the king, he saw you in a farm house, a man was trying to assault you. Sy struck his sword through the man and he fell to the ground. You was wearing a light blue long-sleeved top with a brown skirt, but oh you were so beautiful. It was love at first sight even when the reader punched Sy in the face and ran away from the town into the forest. Sy knew from there that the reader was to be his wife.

Half the time Sy was feral, it was the only thing that could get him through the raids. He could let his inner beast come through. A couple of days later, trying to find you, he saw you washing yourself by a waterfall. He hid behind a big rock so he could watch you. He watched as you were drying your hair off, your body sun-kissed by the summer sun. He felt his cock harden as he looked your ass and breasts, so plumb and his for the taking.

As he came into view, you gasped as you saw him. He looked at you up and down, taking in your nakedness. Your breasts hardened at the cool wind blowing, but also because of the giant man staring at you. Your pussy on display, he wanted to taste you so bad.

Before you know it he has you pinned down, you let out a startled scream as he nuzzled his face into your neck, smelling your sweet scent. You knew this was wrong, you did not know this man, but something about it felt good. He was huge, while his hands were rough, touching you everywhere, even your most private areas which you blushed and looked away. His touch was still soft.

"W-what do you want from me?" You asked, unsure what to do. "Need you" Sy mumbled into your neck. "Please" You hear him whisper. Next thing you know you are being pounded into the dirt. You moan and scream to the point you are afraid someone will hear, his balls slap against your ass with each thrust. His broad thick hairy body wraps around your body. His pubic hair rubbing against your clit. You were so aroused that it didn't even hurt when he slid in, taking your virginity and filling you up with his seed. Oh there was a lot of seed, to the point you thought this was unusual. But you did not care, you were so far gone and the sexiest man was above you fucking and breeding you to the halt.

August Walker

August Walker, known as the king of Denmark to the people, was a Noble and commanding king, but harsh and silent. He was dominating, successfully winning every raid and war. other kings and queens were afraid of him. no one dared to disobey him. Many wandered if this man was even capable of love, because all they saw was a murderous man who got what he wanted every time.

He grew up with a cruel father, who would beat him and his mother after coming home drunk every night. After he killed his own father, August looked after his mother when she grew sick. Ever since her death he has always been alone.

Until one day.

In the middle of a raid, August all bloodied from the killing, saw a woman fighting off men as young girls and boys were standing behind her terrified. The woman was striking, and fierce. Never holding down even though he could see the exhaustion on your face and body. Oh your body. He could not see your curves due to the armor, but he knew you were beautiful, that made his cock harden.

after a successful raid, sitting at the high table in front of his warriors and civilians alike, they celebrated. you face appeared and he couldn't take his eyes off of you. Never has he felt this way before, he couldn't quite put his finger on what he was feeling, lust?, romance? maybe both? who knows. Only thing he knew certain off was that he wanted you in his bed that night. Upon meeting him, you were stubborn. You heard the rumors about this man. He fucked anything that moved and he killed anyone that pissed him off. Your attitude shocked him as no one treated him in such a manner, but it just made him want you more. You both did not leave the bedroom for 3 days. August lay awake as you cuddled him from the side. He looked at you, thinking of a life he could have with you, but for the type of man he is, he did not think he deserved such a life. But over time you proved him otherwise, with your stubborn nature, you brought four daughters and a son to the world who were equally stubborn. Now he cannot picture a life without the six of you. promising himself he will be a better father than what his own father was.

[sophswritingthings]

Jealous mizu, or possessive mizu please. 🥺😭🫶.

pairing: possessive/protective!mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): mizu tries to do murder again but this time is reprimanded for her attempt, swearing

a/n: oh gladly, anon- don’t have to ask me twice

word count: 445 words / 2,376 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you and mizu walk down the streets, looking for a certain brothel along these roads. madam kaji’s for the peculiar.

mizu’s hand is tight around your waist, as it always is. ready to spring on anyone who dare try to touch you. and you knew she would, sometimes she’d come home soaked in blood that wasn’t her own. a lot of the time, actually, now that you thought about it.

and at this point; you didn’t dare try and fight it off. plus, her touch kept you warm in the cold winter.

sliding into the brothel where your lover demanded to see the madam, you began getting..

.. looks.

the other men in the brothel, even if being tended to by other women, had their eyes on you. the sight made you uncomfortable, squeezing just a bit closer to mizu’s side.

she noticed this, while walking into the back of the brothel.

and when she noticed it.. you could see her expression devolve into pure anger.

never did she wear that expression around you; her face would always be something of soft when around you. it was the first time you’d seen such an angry expression in a while.

“.. excuse me,” her raspy voice rang throughout the brothel. “eyes up. she’s taken.”

a gentle blush devolves on your cheeks, adverting you’re gaze with the tiniest of smiles.

It’s silent. very quiet.

“I’m sure a samurai such as yourself wouldn’t mind sharing,” one voice calls out.

“sharing what? you talk about her like she’s a meal,” she scoffs, letting go of your body and strolling toward the man. you watched as she went, a bit concerned as to what she was going to do. 

you see her hand go to her sword.

“mizu!” you call out, eyes narrowed, “no.”

her eyes narrow, as if your words were not going to stop her. but she sighs, giving into your wishes and walking back over to you. her arm wraps around your waist again, dragging you away from the main room. 

you sit, nestled in the corner.

you laugh a little, “you can’t kill every guy that as much as looks at me, mizu.”

she raised an eyebrow, “I can’t?”

you actually couldn’t tell if she was asking genuinely or not.

“no—you can’t,” you shook your head. “that’s a lot of people.”

she scoffs playfully, “oh, it is?” she placed a little kiss on your head, “you’re too pretty not to look at, then?”

you giggle, “exactly,” you smile up at her.

she sighs, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, her arm still around your waist as you waited for the madam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 - 𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖞

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: attempted murder, swearing, parental neglect, overall sad vibes

A/N : this post is to set up context for the rest of the series (i have to set up the lore so everything makes sense lmao). this is my first time writing for luke, i promise i’ll get better at it with time :))

you essentially grew up at camp, having arrived at the young age of five

monsters began creeping their way into your life ever since you learned to speak. death seemed to be drawn to you.

first was the dracanea disguised as a nanny that tried to eat you while your mother was out of the house (she was a florist that prepared bouquets for funerals). you only survived because the dracanea was interrupted by your mortal older brother. when he saw you on the ground with the nanny about to wrap her hands around your tiny throat, he screamed so loud that the dracanea fled immediately. he then called the cops on her, but she’d long since disappeared. you were only three at the time.

the final straw was when an Aeternae attacked you on the preschool playground. it lept out from the large bushes near the fence and nearly ripped your face off. you would have died if your teacher, a satyr in disguise, hadn’t scared it off. 

your preschool teacher, Mr. Maciolli, escorted your to camp the next day. he had a long talk with your mother, who didn’t put up much of a fight to keep you at home. you attracted trouble that she had no time to deal with. 

with that, you were uprooted from your normal life and transported into the world of the Olympian gods. 

you were the youngest camper by far. the older campers took you under their wing, helping you adjust to camp life as best as they could. they gave you a wooden sword and taught you the basics of combat. they made sure to keep you away from anyone who could cause you harm. and most importantly, the many unclaimed demigods that you met while staying in Cabin 11 taught you that the gods didn’t give a flying fuck about their kids.

though it was difficult at first, you were happy. sure, you missed your mom sometimes, but you reminded yourself that she hadn’t been interested in keeping you around anyways. 

your first five years at camp were relatively peaceful. you developed your personality and learned your likes and dislikes, just like any “normal” kid. 

however, there were occasional incidents that were absolutely unexplainable. 

the worst one of all was this: a son of ares kept throwing pebbles at you while you were supposed to be picking strawberries. no matter what you said, he wouldn’t quit. after a particularly large pebble hit you in the back of the head, you turned around and screamed “stop it!”

the kid immediately collapsed, his skin turning pale. the other campers rushed him to the infirmary, and the apollo kids immediately got to work. 

they concluded that his heart had stopped. he had been dead to the world for almost a whole minute. if not for the nectar that had been poured down his throat, he probably wouldn’t have made it.

campers did their best not to anger you after that. nobody could explain what had happened, but clearly, you had caused the son of ares to have a close brush with death.

you were claimed by Thanatos, the god of death, at the age of ten. 

your social life turned on its head after that.

basically everyone except for Chiron and Mr. D avoided you like you were the walking Black Plague (which you kinda were)

after getting claimed, your powers increased. you could touch a small plant and kill it instantly if you wished to. wherever you sat, the grass would wither around you. you could even kill small animals with a simple touch (only if you wished it to die). 

nobody wanted to risk crossing you and getting killed. so nobody tried to get close to you. they would say the occasional “hello”, but that was it. 

you grew to resent not only your father, but all of the gods. they had everything, it seemed, while you had nothing. they didn’t even have the heart to check in on their own children. 

you learned to thrive without any companions. you spent your days sparring against invisible enemies, building muscle, and developing stamina. you rarely conversed with the other members of Cabin 11, staying in your bunk in the far corner of the cramped space. during your down time, you killed flowers, dried and pressed them, and used them to make collages. 

things were relatively stagnant for awhile.

until you turned fourteen. 

at age fourteen, luke castellan arrived at camp, and changed your life forever. 

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! I plan on making this a series, but I’m not sure how I’m going to format it yet. Stay tuned for the first official installment!

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[sorcerous-caress]

I literally love these responses so much……may I request some fluff/angst?

maybe it could be something like what each of the companions are like when they’re sad/when they cry. And what they would act like around tav. Particularly minthy shart or Karlach cuz they’re my favs but anyone else you want too

I love love love angst

How they act when they're sad

[ Bg3, Angst, nb!reader ]

[I went the full angst route, hope you like it anon]

Minthara

Sadness doesn't last long in her. It always gets transformed into anger, rage, bitterness, or contempt. Sadness is wielded like a sword, sharpened edges, and a leathery grip.

She is aware of what she's doing, of what she's fueling.

It's what helped her survive, what made her as strong-willed as she is. She saw her sisters fall to their agony, their sadness consuming their minds as Lolth giggled at the chaos their madness invited.

She swore not to fall, never to let it consume her. Survival is above all.

If you entrust her with your sadness, she will acknowledge the amount of vulnerability you've willingly showed her. She will remember it and feel greatly touched by your deep trust in her.

But all she can offer to quell your misery is the venom to poison your enemies with, to steer your hands towards the responsible necks and stand behind your back as your finger digs into their flesh, choking all those who wronged you.

Shadowheart

She was taught to indulge in her sadness, to stretch it and bury herself inside it. To let it fester and grow.

Taught that only Shar herself can calm that storm, only by darkness can you veil the wounds this cruel world left on you.

To forget is to be free, and true freedom is to become a child of the night.

She prays, whenever there's a burning in her throat, she kneels and prays to the cruel yet loving goddess, the only mother she has known.

Her faith is enough, she repeats, her faith will guide her, her faith will comfort her.

Her faith is all she has, it has to be enough. She can't afford it not being enough.

Answered or not, her prayers ease her mind in a way, make her feel less of a monster.

She can teach you, if you ever feel the need to confess and be cleansed of all these sour emotions swirling inside, she can teach and guide you.

Karlach

She hugs her teddybear. Cradling the small soft plush into her chest, against her metallic heart and squeezing.

Despite her size, she felt the smallest she had ever been. The world was too big, too harsh and too cruel. Full of betrayals and mistrust, full of disdain for her and for everything she has been forced to do.

Her tail wraps around her as she curls around herself on her bed, it gets too much at times. She wants to scream, yell at how unfair this is, how her own heart was stolen from her, the heart her own mother gave her. They took it.

She's still a person, no matter how much of a murdering tool they tried to make her, no matter how many parts they replaced and how many battles they threw her in. She is still a person goddammit, and she deserves to be treated like a person.

Even her tears cease to exist for more than mere seconds before they evaporate from the heat of her skin. Evidence of her sadness erased from the world, she doesn't even get to cry in peace, can she?

She craddles the teddybear closer, closing her eyes and surrendering to the world for just a second.

Whenever you're down, she lends her teddybear to you, it smells just like her. She can't hug you herself so this is the most she can offer, she is truly sorry soldier.

[omnipotent-scient]

Personally, I've always perceived Rhaenyra as an entitled brat. That was sort of how she was portrayed in the book. Daemon was pretty nasty as well, as he groomed Rhaenyra. He was teaching her "how best to touch a man to bring him pleasure," if Mushroom is to be believed.

I am inclined to believe Mushroom.

I think most of Rhaenyra's behaviors at Daemon's fault, but I do think that Rhaenyra is mad as she wanted to torture her little brother for calling her bastard children 'bastards'. That isn't sane behavior, and nothing really excuses it. Aemond really was defending himself.

Alicent should have asked for Rhaenyra's boys to be swatted on the hands wooden spoon a good few times, not an eye. (Lucerys should not have had a dagger. Why would a child need a dagger?)

I don't think anyone thought Rhaenyra was still heir after Aegon was born. Viserys literally broke the laws of the entire realm for her.

War was inevitable, and there was nothing Rhaenyra could have done aside from marrying her infant brother.

I don't know if you've been asked something like this before. I also have no idea if the background to my question makes sense, but do you think there was any way Rhaenyra could have become Queen without breaking laws, murdering kin, and or bloodshed?

Who started breaking laws? —The Greens

Who started murdering kin?—The Greens

Who started bloodshed?— The Greens

In a monarchy, which Westeros is and has been for THOUSANDS of years the king's words is the law. Not that of his predecessors, but of the present ruling monarch.

Viserys named his 8 year old daughter as his heir, he varied from custom yes, but never broke law. HE IS THE LAW.

Viserys also broke custom by marrying Alicent, a daughter of a second son and not a ruling lord. A woman that could not give him anything of importance, not money, not a fleet, not any great allegiance. He married her simply because loved her. Being the second time he broke CUSTOM for a woman he loved. Rhaenyra and Alicent.

Even if Viserys allowed his 16 year old daughter to be wed to her 6 year old brother, you think that would prevent war? You people are simply stupid if you think so. Aegon (Otto & Alicent) could easily imprison Rhaenyra and simply put it out as she died, or simply even just end her life. And obviously with their children being young(if they had any, very unlikely) Aegon could crown himself as king rather than prince consort. And do you really think Alicent would let her precious son be king consort to a wanton woman? We see this with Jaehaerys' children Daenerys and Aemon.

I don't think anyone thought Rhaenyra was still heir after Aegon was born. Viserys literally broke the laws of the entire realm for her.

The Blacks? Literally many at court more than even the Greens supported Rhaenyra as heir. Even afterwards, during the war Rhaenyra had much more supporters than Aegon, even after her death.

Rhaenyra is mad as she wanted to torture her little brother for calling her bastard children 'bastards'. That isn't sane behavior, and nothing really excuses it. Aemond really was defending himself. Alicent should have asked for Rhaenyra's boys to be swatted on the hands wooden spoon a good few times, not an eye.

Right, Rhaenyra insisting for Aemond to be questioned sharply is mad but Alicent asking for a five year old's eye to be cut out is perfectly sane behaviour, yes? Be serious right now. Do you really think Viserys out of all people would let his son be tortured? Rhaenyra knew of that, she wanted Aemond to admit that his mother, Alicent has been spreading rumours abt easy as that.

It wasn't just for the insults either, Luke's nose was broken, Jace was hit in the head. And Joff was thrown into dragon droppings.

Afraid that the boy would raise the alarm, Prince Aemond shouted at him to be quiet, then shoved him backward into a pile of dragon droppings.

Aemond fought back, breaking Luke’s nose with a punch, then wrenching the sword from Joff’s hands and cracking it across the back of Jace’s head, driving him to his knees. As the younger boys scrambled back away from him, bloody and bruised, the prince began to mock them, laughing and calling them “the Strongs.”

Jace at least was old enough to grasp the insult. He flew at Aemond once again, but the older boy began pummeling him savagely…until Luke, coming to the rescue of his brother, drew his dagger and slashed Aemond across the face, taking out his right eye.

Aemond was TEN. Jace was SIX, Luke FIVE, Joff only THREE.

A 10 year old Pummeling (= boxing, repeatedly puching) and 6 year old is a perfectly good thing to do.

Lucerys should not have had a dagger. Why would a child need a dagger?

Because this child, is a prince? Almost everyone had daggers at that time, Kings, Queens, Princes, Princesses, Ladies, Lords, Commonborn, every one had daggers. They carried it for personal protection, even Lucerys.

Не was teaching her "how best to touch a man to bring him pleasure," if Mushroom is to be believed. I am inclined to believe Mushroom.

Even then, if Rhaenyra is such an 'entitled brat' why would she want to please the son of a steward of a Lord. And that too, not even a major Lord. Why would she want to please a no-one that became a someone because of HER.

Personally, I've always perceived Rhaenyra as an entitled brat. That was sort of how she was portrayed in the book.

She was portrayed as spoiled, yes. How could she not be? She came after many miscarriages and stillbirth, many other losses in the family. To her parents she was their first daughter, both of them motherless on their own. To Baelon, she was his first granddaughter after the loss of this wife, son, aemon and the rest of his siblings. To Jaehaerys and Alysanne, she was probably the first great-grandchild they met, she came after they lost most of their children (+Jocelyn who was as good as daughter, Rhaenys and probably never met her children till the feast and tourney of 98). She was a light in a time where her family was sinking from the inside.

I don't know how fighting for something that is yours, and have been for over TWENTY YEARS is seen as entitlement rather advocating and defending her own right?

There is someone who is portrayed as entitled, however. Alicent Hightower. Who thought simply because she popped out the King's son, means he should become a king. And this son who thought simply because he was a man with a cock, he was more fit to rule than a daughter without a cock.

Why should I explain the basic of things to strangers as if they're 5 and lack comprehension? Lol😭

[procrastinationaccount]

Hey can you explain how wake got in the sword? And how wake did the whole revenant thing? Her storyline after her and johns baby is sooooo confusing to me

I'm not the best person to ask about this tbh I'm sorry 😭 My thought process:

We know that she went directly from her bones to the sword (HtN 469), that anything strongly associated with her life or death will work, including anything that touched her murder weapon (172); however, Wake was kicked out of an airlock (so G1deon's boot and No Air) and Gideon's sword was still wrapped when she got it (418), so that seems like a dead end. We know that Gideon's sword is of the Drearburh stock, which are traditionally not touched without gloves or bled on by anyone who isn't the owner (323), and it's at the very least the same type of sword Alecto used, but she didn't overlap with Wake's timeline, so that also seems like a dead end.

On the other hand, we have Nonius forming a revenant link through Ortus' "sheer passion" (453) for him; Gideon certainly had passion for calling her mother to her in spades, so I wonder if she could have done it by accident? There's also the emphasis on blood wards being transferable through the blood of direct relatives, so maybe thanergetic links work the same way and Gideon bleeding on the sword at some point let Wake use it as a vessel. My final, least textually supported guess is that at some point Gideon fought a skeleton that included her bones and damage to them still counted as interacting with her thalergy/thanergy, especially since her revenant was still in them. Idk idk.

Things become more clear-cut going into her HtN plotline. Since Harrow killed Cytherea with the sword she was in, she had a thanergetic link to her corpse and was able to use it to spook Harrow, alternately have sexy times and try to kill Pyrrha (and/or G1deon), and get her audience with Jod at the end. She also had access to Harrow's head, presumably because Harrow washes the sword down with her arterial blood every night (59 - babygirl whyyyyy). Then Abigail and Magnus successfully exorcised her from Harrow and the sword, and Pyrrha destroyed her last corporeal anchor by destroying Cytherea's brain (confirmed on 455 and 472)

Presumably she's currently in the River living her best afterlife. I mean, even if she has no way of knowing this in the end G1deon died surrounded by comrades, her niece successfully nepotismed her way into one of the most important positions of her organization, her bomb got the tomb open, and Pyrrha is stuck technically working under said niece while caring for a parade of casualties of devotion. Honestly she's the closest thing this series has to a girlboss winning.

[seraphimaa]

Astarion X Tav/Reader

Judas

Drabble under cut.

When Astarion gets his first taste of real blood and power, he finds himself falling victim to the throes of his own pleasure. Some part of him is aware of her asking him to stop but power, it turns out, can flood all else.

Warnings: temporary character death, hurt no comfort, trauma, (accidental) murder, unhealthy relationships, abuse, Astarion is not coping™️

My body’s covered in teeth marks

You ruin everything you touch

Destroy anyone you love

“-Tarion?” Her bleary eyes barely blinked open as he crouched over her, like a pale ghost in the night. When her eyes glinted with recognition, her body relaxed again down into her bedroll and her eyes slid shut in exhaustion.

“What’re you doing?” She mumbled into the thick blanket below her. Her voice was tired but held nothing but fondness for the elf. No fear. No suspicion. No disgust. It made him feel sick.

It had to be her. Neither the Sharren nor the Githyanki could be trusted and from the moment he’d pulled her to the ground and watched her instinctually look to the other two for help, he’d set his plan in motion. She’d followed along so easily that he had been sure for the first few days that it had to be some kind of trick. She laughed at his jokes, the mean ones too, and he saw the flash of guilt cross her face when she did. She asked his opinion on what to do, and clung to his advice. She offered him swords, and potions, and food. She blushed when he stood too close and she spent most of their conversations looking anywhere but him. The rapt admiration was sweet and exactly what he needed. Someone kind and naive who would have his back until he could rid himself of Cazador.

It also had to be now. They’d been making their way through these grubby woods for over a week. He’d been set free into the world and here he was still slinking around in the dirt and eating vermin - afraid and starved. The trust was there but he needed a night when there wouldn’t be opportunity for pesky conversation and resistance. Today they’d slaughtered a full grown Owlbear in its nest and everyone had all but collapsed into their makeshift beds.

She blinked up at him again. She’d noticed his quiet ruminating. “Astarion?” She shuffled to face him.

“Are you ok?”

He shushed her and pushed her to lie back down under him. Her face remained painted with surprise but the pink hue that grew over her features set his mind at ease. Yes, he’d planned for all of this. All he had to do was take it. Leaning down so that his lips tickled at her ear, he inhaled deeply. Her heart was thrumming so hard that he could see the pulse of her neck swell in rhythm. He swore he could already taste her.

“Do you trust me?” A truthful nod as she bit her lip.

“Im starving and you’re the only one who can help me.” He tells himself that the desperation in his voice is all a part of the act. He lowers his lips to that jumping flesh at her nape and nips, fighting the urge to break the dam of flesh. He glances up when she doesn’t react. Watches the expression on her face cycle from confusion, to surprise, to understanding. He watched it all fall into flame in her little head and then heart her voice break the silence.

“Will it hurt?” He tells her only hurt for a moment but that it will be worth it. He’ll be able able to protect them better. He’d be so thankful. He knew she wasn’t the kind of person to saw ‘no’.

“And do you promise you’ll stop?” Yes. He’d never hurt her, he said. He recognised her loneliness and desperation. He saw that same wounded animal in her that he lived with and luckily, he knew all the pretty words to tame it.

She agreed then. A quick nod of her head and he had latched home. Her face contorted as his fangs sank in and he felt her body jerk and her breath shudder. She hissed and tried to regain her breathing, feeling his hand brush over her cheek in an attempt at comfort. A burning ache bloomed and pulsed over her.

Astarion swore he was in rapture. Her blood seeped into him and suddenly nothing else mattered. Heady and sweet and intoxicating, he suckled at her delicate neck and all at once felt drunk. His first. His first freedom. His first friend. His first pleasurable meal. He tried to pin the feeling the had overcome him. It felt a bit like lust, but undeniably darker. This is what had been denied to him for his whole life, yet here he was, crouched double like a predator feasting after a hunt. Nobody was ever going to deny his anything ever fucking again.

She whined and tried to ease her head away from the source of pain. The gentle petting at her cheek grew more purposeful and his hand grasped her jaw, pushing and tilting her head back for better access. Her heart stuttered and quickened at his forcefulness and he groaned as her sanguine spirit filled his mouth and coated his chin, rushing too fast for him to keep up. She moved her hands to pat against his shoulders.

“Astarion that’s enough. It’s so sore.” Her voice quivered and in it he could hear the tears that had filled her eyes.

“Almost. Please. Just a little more.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he returned to drinking her down, lapping up what he missed in the seconds he wasted with his fangs outside of her. She sobbed softly as her wounds were filled once again, her body shook softly as she tried to stop her tears. He tried to find that beautiful place of pleasure and disassociation again but he felt torn back to the present every time she sniffed and hiccuped. No. This was so unfair. He deserved this and she couldn’t just ruin this moment by trying to make him feel bad. He could put up with her being selfish in every situation but not now. For once, this wasn’t all about her. She began to beg him to stop again but he silenced her by his rotating his hand to clamp over her mouth and jaw. He felt panting on his palm and she began thrash slightly. He drove down onto her, the weight of bone and limb pinning her to the scratchy blanket. He drank and focused on the sweet taste, unsure if his mind was running too fast or not at all. She wanted to be his friend. She had wanted to help. She had said yes.

The muffled pleading against his hand slurred, then slowed and her hands fell from their grip on his shoulders to the ground at her own. Astarion didn’t know how long she was like that. So quiet and still. When it dawned on him it felt like a bolt of ice down his spine. He pulled his teeth from her and kept his head in the nape of her neck. He stayed like that for a while, too scared to move. A corned rat. His gaze remained forward. Her skin was so pale. The gouges in her neck were clumsy and animalistic. The skin was torn and stretched from his starved gnawing and they still oozed with the last of her ichor. It painted over her neck and chest, saturated the pale yellow blanket she lay on, wet the curls splayed around her. He didn’t know how long it took to find the courage to look at her. When he did he felt like he could vomit his meal over her pretty dress. Her lips were hued a pale blue, fallen open and twisted in a silent scream. Her cheeks looked gaunt and gone was any trace of the rosy blush she so often looked at him with. It was her eyes that turned his stomach, causing it to flutter uncomfortably every time he met them. They were sunken and darkly ringed, vessels streaking the milky whites. They were aimed up at the sky, pointing to slightly different angles the way only a corpse could. They were glassy and he followed the tracks that her tears had taken from them. It felt wrong looking at her like this - dirty. He knew she’d hate this. She always tried to look her best in front of him. He, however, couldn’t bring himself to look away. He had to face what he was. A monster in the night. A Judas at the table. He’d come to her, a friend in the night and he’d broken every ounce of trust and affection he had ever possessed. He could still feel the burn of her hands against him, pushing softly but desperately. She was so scared but even then she didn’t want to hurt him.

He scrambled back, never looking away from her, as if he half expected her corpse to come rambling at him, clawing and shrieking for revenge. When he felt at a safe enough distance from the uncanny gaze of the husk that had housed her, he cried. He cried himself and he cried for the unfairness of it all. He cried because he, even while drowning in his shame, he couldn’t deny the dark tickling thought that this was still the best night of his entire life. He tried to cry for her too. For the scar he’d carved into her tonight. The one that hides deep in the viscera of your being, warping you into a hound that snaps at any hand offered. The kind he knew most intimately.

Bloodied face buried into his hand, his eyes eventually opened again to meet the night. He yanked the leash and his empathy entered back into its cage, whimpering. He couldn’t feel because he had to survive this. This would be one of those moments he bottled up with the intention of keeping it there until he died - any of these days now. He rose to his feet and started to rifle through her worn backpack, fishing for her scroll of revival, and doing everything he could to not look at her disgusting, empty face. His head was swimming with how he could salvage this. He had to keep his cool. As much as he wished he could dash her cadaver far away and never have to think of her again, the others would kill him if he left her dead. If he dragged her heavy body into the thick of the woods and brought her back now, he might be able to avoid their travelling companions finding out anything had happened. The tear stains were still visible too so it would be easier to convince her that this was all a giant accident and he was very, truly sorry. He was sure if he told her a just enough about his past, for sympathy and to justify (because it was justifiable as far as he cared) his lack of control, and really leaned into just how good she tasted and how she was such a decadent feast that he couldn’t stop that she’d be charmed again in no time. Sure, he’d give her a few days to get over it. He guessed she should be allowed that. As long as she didn’t hold it over him and starve him just like Cazador did. He had had a taste now and she would not deny him her cherry wine again.

He took a comforting breath and readied the scroll. She would forgive him because she had nobody else. She needed him and he needed her. He didn’t care if it was through fear or love she pledged her loyalty but when he forced her soul back into her body, he was going to ensure it was promised to him all the same before he let her leave here. Both of their survival depended on it.

A/N: I finished writing this at 5am and I need to be awake at 8 so apparently both me and my Tav make some very questionable choices. I love Astarion and I love soft, emotionally healing Astarion but here’s some whump nobody asked for set very early game. He’s struggling to make good choices, and questioning what the point is of doing that anyway when he’s no doubt going to be under everybody’s feet eating rats in a sewer again. If he can’t control the inevitable return to his torture then god forbid he doesn’t get to at least once feel what it’s like to be the one on top. The one in control. This was my take on a very emotionally stunted and repressed Astarion and how cruel one can be while stumbling into personhood and testing the limits of newfound power over others.

[newtonsheffield]

Can we please see Anthony and Kate reunion after Anthony comes back and wins the hunger games?

Oh it’s Dramatic

Anthony gets off the train in district 12, and his prosthetic leg still feels a little uncomfortable, his head’s still reeling from the fact that he won. It’s over. Even if he feels like he never left the arena. He can still feel the sword in his hands when he closes his eyes and his hands are stained with blood now. He hates that everyone might see him so differently now. They’ll know, he’s 17 and a murderer. Even of the cameras watched him kill the boy from 2 who had been the only person between him and freedom with tears in his eyes. His mother will look at him differently now, hopefully Gregory’s and Hyacinth are too young to fully understand what he’s done but there’s also Kate. He doesn’t want to see the look in her eyes. Even if she’d begged him for this, their lips finding one another’s desperately as they stood in the Justice building with peacekeepers outside the door.

“Come back to me. I don’t care what you have to do. Come home to me, Anthony.”

He’d been asked about Kate, in his Victor’s interview, someone must have told the reporters to find her when they did the district interviews. It could have been anyone. The entire district knows about them.

“You’ve been holding out on us, Anthony.”

Anthony had leaned back in his chair, grinning at the audience, playing off them, “Have I? Surely not, Caesar.”

“You didn’t tell us you had a girl back home.”

He hadn’t wanted to. He’d wanted to keep Kate for himself. But he’d smiled anyway, “Well I do.” He’d looked directly into the camera, “I kept my promise, Kate. I’m coming home for you.”

The audience had cheered and the entire capitol had fallen in love with them apparently. Not that he cared at all. Al he wanted was to feel her arms around him again, to feel the press of her skin against his.

He looked out on the crowd, the first time they’d had cause to celebrate the end of the games in living memory. No cause to wait for a train, wanting to give the grieving families privacy as they were handed back the body of a child who would never return home.

“Anthony!”

His heart stuttered in his chest at the sound of her voice, looking up to see Ben shoving through the crowd, making space for Kate and the rest of their family. She printed forward, and her body collided with his and finally he felt himself relax as her hands clasped at him, tracing the lines of his face, soft over the dark circles under his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Anthony nodded, his forehead pressed against hers, their lips almost touching, “I am now.”

“I don’t care. Not about any of it, you’re back with me now.”

He nodded against her, his lips finding hers, “I told you I’d never leave you. No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

[persephosposts]

Chapter One : Power

TW/CW: a brief scene of assault, murder, cursing/cussing, general Hazbin Hotel stuff

Unedited

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Vivziepop’s characters or this song

Hell, 1933

To have power in Hell was rare.

Every sinner in Hell craved that one thing, power. They fought for it, killed for it. But yet only certain demons were gifted with such a blessing.

Of course, there were the average day sinners that roamed hell. They were the ones who fought and killed for power. They wanted to be feared, and they were easy to anger. They were deemed as foolish, being able to have freedom but yet destroying it as soon as they got a taste.

And then there were the ones who didn’t need to kill to respected; Overlords. The Overlords of Hell was a class below Lucifer and the Royal Family, but yet so much far above the damned citizens. Average demons wanted to be feared, but yet at the sight of an Overlord they went running for the hills.

But of course, like in every village, there was always an idiot that dared to piss off such high authority.

“Get off me!” A feminine voice shrieked from an alleyway. She had just been walking, the poor thing, when a much bigger demon had snatched her up.

“Quiet down, you fuckin’ bitch!” The bigger wolf-like demon growled, slamming a hand over her mouth to muffle her pleads. “Like anyone would help a whore like you.”

Now the “big bad wolf” wasn’t necessarily being quiet with his degrading words. And little did he know is that there was a much bigger threat looming in the shadows. A threat that had been in power for centuries.

Just as the wolf had opened his long jaw, showing him sharp row of fangs, a faint humming noise could be heard from the opposite of the alley. Huffing in annoyance, the wolf turned his head.

A demon was standing there, a hood covering all of her head except her lips and the cloak hiding her body.

“You want a turn with me too bitch!” The wolf snarled, the demon he was holding against her will whimpering slightly. “Get lost slut, before I do something that’ll hurt.”

“Hurt me?” The stranger hummed, her lips turning into a smirk. The wild rose a brow at her questioning, his eyes still narrowed into a glare. It was a tense silent as the two demons stared at each other. When the victim of the situation tried moving away while the wolf was distracted, the wolf just slammed her back into the brick wall. When she winced out painfully, the stranger’s smile dropped into a frown quite quickly. It was then that the strange demon spoke again. “Let her go. Now.”

“Oh yeah?” The wolf snorted, gripping his victim’s neck. “Make. Me.”

The stranger’s smirk returned again as she raised her head. “I was oh so hoping you would say that.” After she said that, she took a couple of slow steps formed, the wood staring at her with a hard glare still, baring his teeth as she got closer. And before he could even pounce, the stranger began to sing a melody.

“Drink from the leche of sirens

Summon the sailors in town

Strangle the fear of deciding

Which one's deserving to drown”

The wolf, almost like in some sort of trance, glare and snarl had slowly relaxed. His grip on the demon’s throat had loosened, but the woman was still too paralyzed with fear to even twitch.

“Engraved in our memory, the harm that was done

Our mothers, the witches they banished and burned

All of our sisters were killed and abused”

When the strange demon was standing right in front of the wolf, she carefully rose a pink hand up to his cheek, trailing it down to his neck to his chest with a feather-like touch. As she continued singing, a whistling breeze started to pick up.

“By sword-swinging men who would always accuse

The worst of a woman who fights for our right

To be where we belong at the front of the line

Tired of silence and being polite

Your legs turn to shimmering scales in the night”

Moving her hand to her hood, she slowly slid her hood off, finally revealing her facial features. Her face was the same pink tone as her hands, her ((h/l) darker pink hair blowing slightly in the wind. Her wide red eyes batted up at him, her lips formed into a seductive smile. She then moved to the clip of her cloak, unlatching it as it feel off her completely.

The wolf’s eyes roamed, his eyes landing on the jewel that was on her chest area.

“Drink from the leche of sirens

Summon the sailors in town

Strangle the fear of deciding

Which ones deserving to drown

Don't feel bad when these fuckers all drown”

Her smile then dropped, a deadly expression on her face now as her eyes glowed more brightly. Her hands gripped both sides of his face as she continued to sing, but the wolf didn’t budge as he was too dazed to understand what fate he was about to meet with. The demon that the wolf previously had in his possession finally got the nerve to take a couple of steps back from the two, watching the interaction with wide eyes.

“Let them drown

Let them drown

Let them drown”

As she sang the final verse, a glowing light came from the wolf’s chest, the wolf wincing as the light slowly exited him, his eyes a dull gray color as it floated between the two predators. With that, the woman gave one last smile as she stared at the glowing light.

“Don’t feel bad when these fuckers all drown”

With that final verse, the wolf demon had dropped completely to the floor, his body lifeless. The glowing orb that had came from his chest quickly swept into the jewel that was in between her collarbone and chest. Take a deep breath, like the demon had just been refreshed from a nap, the demon smiled again. Only difference this time was that it was a genuine content one.

Her eyes then landed on the poor demoness, the small woman shivering in the corner as her gaze flickered between the lifeless body of her assaulter and the dangerous lady that had saved her from his touch.

“Are you alright?” The dangerous savior asked, her tone sounding genuine as she flashed her a concerned look. When the victim of the wolf nodded shakily, the stranger nodded back curtly. “Try to be more careful, yeah? Lots of big bad wolfs like him out there.”

As the stranger turned her back to exit, the younger demon swallowed before collecting the nerve to speak.

“Wh-Who are you, Miss?”

The pink haired demon hummed in acknowledgment as she slowly turned her head back to look at the girl.

“(Y/N) Siren.” She answered shortly before disappearing, the only evidence that she was there was the lifeless body on the floor and the young victim who felt nothing but gratitude.

****************************************************

“Shit, shit, shit!” (Y/N) cursed, running through the streets. She was swerving through the crowd, some demons cussing loudly at her if she stepped on their foot or bumped into them too harshly.

But she didn’t have time to stop and apologize, she was already five minutes late to an Overlord Meeting.

Turning the corner, she gasped when she slammed into somebody, almost falling on the floor if the demon’s red hand hadn’t had caught her wrist.

“Careful there, dear!” The demon piped up, (Y/N) raising a brow at his almost… happy tone? Looking up at him, an unsettling feeling crawling into her got as she stared at his sharp-toothed smile.

“Um… thanks.” She scoffed, remembering who she was in that moment as she took her arm away, brushing herself off. Stepping around him, she made sure to walk a great distance from him before peaking over her shoulder. When she realized that he was still staring after her, she scoffed as she quickened her pace.

Entering the elevator, eventually, (Y/N) sighed in relief as she look at the clock that was on the wall. “Perfect.” She hummed, concluding that she would make it to the meeting right on the dot now. But of course, she couldn’t help but think if she didn’t bump into that smiling fellow then she would’ve been 2 minutes early.

Hearing the familiar ding on the elevator doors opening, (Y/N) too a breath before making her way down the long corridor. Her footsteps echoed throughout the vast halls with each step, the girl rolling her shoulders.

Once a month, Carmilla would host these little meetings for the Overlords of Hell. And usually it was later in the month, but this meeting was called very spontaneously.

“Look who decided to join us.” Carmilla said as (Y/N) walked through the door. The young Siren just rolled her eyes, sitting in her designated seat next to her sister, Regina.

“I’m on time, aren’t I?” (Y/N) asked, raising a brow at her before looking at the table. That’s when she had noticed how empty it looked. Half of the seats were empty, the only Overlords that were there being her sisters, Carmilla and her assistants, Rosie and Zestial. “Where is everybody? Couldn’t be bothered to show?”

“That’s why the meeting was called for.” The woman sighed, taking a swig of her rum before slamming it on the table. “As you all may have noticed the table is rather empty this evening.”

“Why is that?” Mary asked, restraining a bored yawned as she checked her nails. Regina scoffed at her sister’s attitude, kicking her leg as a way to scold her. Mary glared at her before crossing her arms with a huff.

“Well, Siren,” Zestial continued, his soft but looking voice making the hair on (Y/N)’s neck raise, “what we fear is that there is a new sinner that has become too powerful. I fact, we believe that he has too much.”

“Not as powerful as the rest of us combined surely.” Carmilla huffed, standing from her chair. “I suggest that we each keep an eye out on our respected territories. If we see anything remotely suspicious or a potential threat to the Overlords in general then we don’t hesitate. We take this power down!” She exclaimed, slamming her fist on the table.

And almost like something was listening to their conversation, there was a piercing static noise coming from the meeting room’s intercom.

Regina hissed a bit, Rosie’s usual never ending smile faltering just slightly at the noise. And as the static noise cleared, (Y/N) rose a brow at the faint noise in the background. But has the static disappeared, she could clearly tell what the mystery noise was.

Screams.

And just as fast as it started, it was over. The room was silent, almost like nothing had happened. The group of Overlords were baffled, not knowing to make of the situation.

“What… the fuck?!” Regina snapped, standing from her chair. “What the bloody hell was that, Carmilla?!”

“I… don’t know.” She faltered, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance.

“That noise was fucking dreadful! I never…” Regina huffed, slowly sitting back down. (Y/N) frowned, putting a hand on her older sister’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. But all she got was an eye roll from the said demon.

“What were those screams?” (Y/N) asked, looking at Carmilla for an answer. The woman sighed, obviously stressed by the situation.

“I… I’m not 100% sure.” She answered, looking at all the Overlords individually as she spoke. “But if I have to guess… it must have something to do with the missing Overlords. And whoever- whatever is doing this… they must be very powerful.”

Tagslist: @xdolls-crownx @sugarrush-blush @enjisthings

[lullaebies]

Hey hope you're doing well<3

Could you please write Jaehaerys' funeral ( i know i'm horrible 🥲) where his body will be burned like Targaryen rituals? Everyone is waiting for Helaena to say dracarys but she stands still so Aegon steps up and says it

I first have to tell you that this is insane brain twinning because because I have written this exact scenario in a reddit comment before, I gasped when I saw your ask!! wish I had a screenshot omg. Also writing this made me super emotional - I hope this heavy dosage of angst will hit well! —

The boy is laid in an unlit pyre, pale body surrounded by blue flowers that are more alive than him.

Forget-me-nots, are what those gentle blue blossoms are called. Helaena is as pale as the corpse she has been overwatching, the crowd surrounding the area just an illusion to a soul already departed, but in her state she still managed to yell her son deserved to have his favorite flowers around him.

Aegon didn’t know those were his son’s favorite flowers. They are unremarkable in color, dainty in shape; perhaps if he had known before, he would’ve been able to appreciate them some, but seeing them now, this way, makes him want to order every single one in the Seven Kingdoms to be plucked out of the ground.  

He dares not voice that order aloud. The ratcatchers dying didn’t clear out the shame, and tearing at flowers will not do so either. The weight of the boy would have been so light to carry in his arms, but now it is heavier than he could ever lift. The guilt made certain of it. And yet his own wife feels it a tenfold, he knows.

Helaena is by his side, but only Dreamfyre croaks and cries beside him; only Sunfyre answers to her. Mother is holding onto Maelor, conveniently far enough apart from them, enough so her daughter wouldn’t break into tears. Jaehaera found herself in the hands of a grandsire, face deep in his shirt, unable to look towards the pyre. He almost wishes he had any option to do the same, to try and forget — but no, there is no place for it, not anymore.

They have a septon read some blessings, before the boy is to be cremated. It’s a farce of a thing, to have anyone believe that the Seven who are One would bless his son in any way when the Crone already led his murderers to him, when the Mother did nothing when his head was sliced off. He almost wishes the septon was the one to be burned instead. But a sacrifice of a raggedy old man won’t bring a lively boy back.

When the man of the Faith finishes, Targaryen blood is due to say the final word, only they able to make the dragons lay one’s soul to rest. Helaena has switched out of that darned, bloody dress to say it; she bathed and combed her hair and wore her crown for this alone. He keeps himself quiet as he waits for her to say it. Aemond and Daeron are glaring daggers at anyone who dare show even the slightest impatience. Dreamfyre approaches, craning her neck above them. He thinks Helaena has steeled herself finally, and he sees her mouth move open, but it opens to no sound, and when it does give one, it is only a sob. Her shoulders turn as if to cave into themselves and he has to hold her arm to keep her still. She’ll drown them all with her tears before she burns the last remnant of their son.

She has been made to make that call once, already. To say what a mother should never say, and now she must say goodbye to a boy who should’ve been the one to see her off, many many years from now. She opens her mouth, but she cannot speak; Aegon doesn’t know if she’ll ever trust her own words again.

She looks to him when he touches her, the puffy bloodshot eyes being daggers of their own. Daggers, swords, scorpion bolts and all — and all they do is ask for mercy. I can’t, they say.

His eyes are pooling with tears as well, and Aegon swallows his emotions one by one. I can’t, either, he wants to say, it is my fault, his mind supplies. But then the silence around them is unbearable, and the crick in his neck reminds him of the crown they lost the boy for. Sunfyre approaches closer, without him saying a word, and he knows his choice is gone. This I must do.

His lip trembles in contempt. For who? The whole world perhaps, he thinks for a moment. This whole world that still breathes when he never had any air to begin with. May be only for myself. 

Aegon looks at the boy, one last time. To remember the face that has been sown back to the body, the cheeks that he has only ever pinched for moments brief, the brows that have once rose so high when he asked his questions, the lips that made his pouts just like his, full but sullen. But he at least knew how to make them into a bright smile, too.

“Dracarys.”

The golden rays made of fire envelop the pyre whole; Helaena’s face comes to hide against his arm, but Aegon is unable to look away. The blue flowers are scorched into ash, mixing with his remains. Forget-me-nots.

He won’t forget. Aegon knows his son will haunt him until he meets him once more, and he hopes he does. He hopes he chases after him the same way he used to chase him down the halls of the Keep, unrelenting and determined to remind him what he is supposed to be.

I’ll listen, this time. The father you’ll meet next would be one that avenged you, Jaehaerys.

[auryborealis]

Day 5 of OC Week '24! | Weapons / Powers

Yuna and her blood summons: > "Ruby Shark" Armor: a full-body armor that is activated by breaking the skin of her palms, causing her blood to seep out from her tattoos and encase her entire form. Enhances her offensive and defensive capabilities. > Sword: Named "Samebito." A legendary sword said to have been wielded by the ancient war deity and therefore can only be held by one who's consumed the Pulse Pulse Fruit. Yuna was able to find the sword during the timeskip, which instantly accepted her as its new master. Its form can be altered into a spear or a whip and be split into two for dual wielding. Inspired by the Miasma sword and the Blood Sword from the Fear and Hunger games and the Heroes' Relics from Fire Emblem: Three Houses. > Blood Hound: Named "Argo." Is Yuna's companion, guard, and therapy dog. His size is dependent on how much blood Yuna uses when summoning him. Unlike the other summons, he has a personality and can maintain his form longer due to being possessed by the spirit of Yuna's old dog that passed away years ago. He has an excellent nose to assist with tracking. > Murder of Crows: Can be used as spies by looking through their eyes (though Yuna herself has to be in a meditative state). They can also be used as messenger birds or distractions by pecking enemies. > Blood Ghouls: A particularly dangerous summon due to its aggression, causing them to be difficult to control and likely to attack indiscriminately. Inspired by Shin Godzilla's 5th form, Clickers from The Last of Us, and Crimson Heads and Regeneradores from the Resident Evil series. > Red Coral: Sprouts from blood puddles to be used as shields or traps. Its surface is sharp enough to cut anyone who touches it. > Isonade: Not a summon but a colossal, shark-like monster that Yuna can turn into; her first transformation was triggered when Yuna was feeling extreme despair and rage, causing her to wreck havoc in a wild frenzy. It is also able to reanimate corpses with its blood, turning them into blood ghouls. This form can cause extreme fatigue, enough to put Yuna into a comatose state afterwards. She eventually learns to control this form, although it will still cause her to sleep for days straight. > Flowers: Any blood that Yuna spills turn into amaryllis flowers when she is done battling or when the summons have served their purpose. They can also turn into Bleeding Hearts if she is feeling sorrowful.

@ocweek

[lemon-natalia]

Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 1

onto the first actual chapter! now its nine months before the emperor’s murder, we’re jumping around in time an awful lot here

ok this is in 2nd person again, it wasn't just for the prologue. is the perspective going to be skipping around like this the whole book? i’m not sure how i feel about that

‘you were just a necromancer, and it was just a sword’ huh, thats slightly different to the end of the last book where Harrow now knew how to fight with a sword after she ascended to Lyctorhood, she seems to have lost Gideon's knowledge here

who doesn’t want a sword that makes you violently throw up when you hold it

oh wow she daubed a skull on her face in her own blood?? saying Harrow is not doing well is the understatement of the century. also just give the gal some face paint already

i already can barely stand the sound of my own heartbeat most of the time, if i had to hear over seven hundred beating all the time i think i’d go insane edgar-allan-poe style

oooh the Erebos, fancy spaceship time. and ‘erebos’ is apparently the darkness of the underworld in Greek myth, according to my five seconds of googling

Harrow can’t let anyone else touch Gideon’s two-hander sword!!! i’m sobbing

also can we just appreciate the two skeletons that look like they’re having a dance off on the front cover

[thelostgirl21]

When you read some of the things you'd written before watching Season 3, and they suddenly take on a new meaning...

His "weapon" isn't a sword, magic, or even his lute. After all, "Whoreson Prison Blues" sounded fantastic accompanied by spoons!

Yes. Spoons always make Jaskier sound fantastic. Jaskier really knows how to work with spoons, and work those spoons!

All Jaskier truly needs, to sound great and inspired, really, is a spoon!

Give Jaskier a spoon, and they'll be making sweet music together... Both literally and figuratively...

He doesn't need a weapon, he's one of the single most influential character of the series, in a sense, just by virtue of existing and doing "what he does best" - being an impulsively chaotic bard either seducing or pissing people off; and just touching things he probably shouldn't touch, and putting random stuff in his mouth.

Radovid, Comma Prince of Redania: *Spends his whole life doing everything he can to stay under the radar, be kept out of Redanian politics, and appear really dumb, incompetent, and drunk (note: although he was only pretending to be drunk with Jaskier in that scene, I think Hugh Skinner mentioned that Radovid does drink quite a lot to cope with everything that's going on, though, sort of as a way to "self-medicate") so people will let him be.*

Jaskier: *Shows up.*

Radovid: *Intensely crushes on him. Forgets he's supposed to play dumb, and instead offers actually good and sensible arguments as to why Jaskier Cirilla should come live with them in Redania.*

Jaskier: *Shows willingness to listen to Radovid, and offers to do what he can to convince Geralt and Ciri to accept the offer, should they find a way to get rid of Rience.*

Philippa: *Is impressed, and compliments Radovid on it.*

Radovid: *Immediately attempts to go back to playing dumb, hiding, and hopefully being of no interest to her or anyone else at court.*

Jaskier: *Shows up again, flirts with Radovid, lets him know that he's not fooled by his dumb drunken playboy prince act, utterly seduces him with a song (and as many "come hither looks" as one can humanly make fit in a single encounter) and humbly asks for his help.*

Radovid: *Falls even deeper in love with him, drops his act with Jaskier and agrees to help him. Suddenly gets deeply involved in Redanian politics. Argues with the spymasters that, maybe, they should start using carrots with people instead of sticks. Puts Philippa on Rience's trail, while letting Dijkstra know about his brother's secret meetings with Nilfgaard (probably counting on him to change Vizimir's mind regarding his plans of handing Ciri over to the Emperor), regularly starts showing disdain for Dijkstra's methods and gets himself on the spymaster's "shitlist"...*

Of course, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know:

Queen Hedwig is dead,

King Vizimir is dead, and now he's

Radovid, Comma King of Redania.

Right at the start of the second war between the Northern Kingdoms and the Nilfgaardian Empire, no less...

With his sister-in-law and brother's murderer(s) still likely running around the castle somewhere, and working for the people that just put that crown on his head...

And the love of his life still out there, risking his own life, hopefully having managed to reunite with Geralt, and now facing who knows how many dangers to attempt to go rescue Ciri...

So much for staying under the radar and avoiding to get politically involved!

Jaskier: *Seduces the Prince of Redania and uses his lips for extraordinary things...

...accidentally triggers a series of events that changes Redania's line of succession, and totally upends the power structure and dynamic of the strongest kingdom of the Continent!*

By this point, I would almost expect Geralt's response to learning that Vizimir has been assassinated, and that Prince Radovid has ascended to the throne, to be:

"Alright Jaskier, what did you do?"

Obviously, I knew that Prince Radovid was rumored to be Jaskier's new love interest in Season 3 back then... But I had absolutely no idea what Radovid's character would be like in terms of personality, motivations, etc.

Turns out that they found Jaskier a love interest that is basically as directionless and lonely in life as Geralt used to be in Season 1. Someone that doesn't want to get involved in politics or any of those games people in position of power like to play, and is basically just going through the motions of his life...

Until Jaskier shows up and, suddenly, he finds himself right at the heart of those politics, forced to make decisions and choices that will shape the future of the whole freaking Continent!

The main difference is that Geralt sort of continuously fought against Destiny, tried to ignore it, deny it, and push it away. And then, he blamed Jaskier for everything that went wrong and attempted to cut himself from him!

Whereas Radovid just immediately found himself irresistibly drawn to it and embraced whatever changes Jaskier brought into his life, while starting to make choices and take risks out of love without ever blaming him for it, or making it sound like he remotely held Jaskier responsible whenever things misfired or went wrong.

And even when things do go horribly wrong, all Radovid can think of, apparently, while looking at his dead brother is "going to see Jaskier."

But then, Geralt is much older than Radovid is and, from what I understand, has had his dreams and hopes crushed quite a few times whenever he's let his guard down and dared get attached to people in the past.

When you keep suffering loss after loss after loss... at some point, you probably figure that the best way to avoid loss is no longer feeling like you have anything valuable to lose. If you need no one, then you won't risk losing anyone.

Whereas Radovid's never had anyone from his own world he was able to genuinely emotionally connect with. And suddenly, he finds someone that sees him and is making an effort to attempt to understand him - something and someone he's discovered that he needs and doesn't want to lose.

But yeah, it's really fascinating, on the show, to see the way that our beloved bard just keeps... basically causing stuff to happen!

For better or for worse, Jaskier is making people that seemingly don't want to get involved be involved, and making them discover whatever their purpose appears to be in the grand scheme of things!

Yennefer:

The "Destiny" that brought them together:

And now that Lauren Hissrich has clearly stated that Ciri wasn't the descendant of Éile and Fjall that the prophecy was referring to in "The Witcher: Blood Origin", one has to wonder if it could be Jaskier.

Okay, first I just want to address people saying that it's sort of a "retcon" on what she'd said in the past and that she'd "all but confirmed it was Ciri already", because I actually found that interview and listened to it, and that's not quite what I took from it.

I mean yes, I can see how it could have been interpreted the way it was, but what she actually said is:

"Éile's pregnant, at the end. And we know that that's part of Ithlinne's Prophecy; that there is a seed in her that will eventually lead to someone who's important in the Witcher's world.

So, as someone who, for instance, on "The Witcher" 's side, follows Ciri and the origin of her genes and her blood... It's like, I kinda wanna know where that character's gonna go.

I wanna know if these two things are going to, you know, crash into each other at some point."

So, the way I personally understand it is that:

"Blood Origin" introduced the idea that there currently is someone, in the Witcher's world, that is connected to the Ithlinne's Prophecy by blood (by virtue of being the descendant of Fjall and the Lark), and that they will sing the last note of a song that ends all time.

The prophecy about them goes:

"The time of the spheres is upon us. Aen Seidhe [the elves of the Continent] lost across the skies. Cast adrift in time. Ever searching for love, lost and left behind. The Lark’s seed shall carry forth the first note of a song that ends all times. And one of her blood shall sing the last."

And that, on the show "The Witcher", Ciri's also a character whose genes and blood is given a lot of attention and importance to. So, as a member of the audience, she'd be curious to know if these two different characters are going to crash into each other at some point, and those two parts of the Prophecy are going to connect.

The rest of the Ithlinne's Prophecy from the books, that's connected to Ciri, is:

"Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deireádh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of Elder Blood, of Hen Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but burst into flame. Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the signs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidhe, the Blood of Elves... May Ye All Wail, for the Destroyer of Nations is upon us. Your lands shall they trample and divide with rope. Your cities razed shall be, their dwellers expelled. The bat, owl and raven your homes shall infest, and the serpent will therein make its nest..."

She also said, in a Tudum Interview: "One of the things that we love about Sapkowski’s books is his attention to genes, to bloodlines, and to how families grow and develop."

And in Season 3, Jaskier keeps referring to Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer as "his family".

They may not be related by blood, but they are still "family" to him, in the truest sense (like, I think, the Seven established a family-like bond).

And Jaskier is the one that brought them all together. "The Lark’s most precious note shall be the key to all things", and Jaskier does feel like he's the key to all things, at times.

He's just randomly traveling the Continent, unlocking people's destinies left and right, connecting with them, struggling with the thought of settling down.

He's also drawn to people that are "ever searching for love", and that feel "lost and left behind".

Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri... Radovid, even.

And, of course, the elves, that he became "The Sandpiper" to protect.

What I'm also wondering is if the part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy, at the end of "Blood Origin", was added at the same time that they chose to introduce Seanchai and change the role that Jaskier was initially meant to play in the spinoff.

Because it would appear that Seanchai's true form would be that of an ancient elf.

So, "Blood Origin" introduces us to two incredibly powerful ancient elves with the ability to cross time and dimensions.

Avalach, that shares a connection to Ciri in the books (I won't spoil it for those that haven't read it), and

2. Seanchai.

So, what if Seanchai was the child of Éile and Fjall? The Lark’s seed, that shall carry forth (throughout history) the first note of a song that ends all times?

And this is sort of what the show's creator had to say about her character:

It just sort of fitted so well in. When I was thinking about this idea with Seanchaí story collection, it was that moment where all the story about music, and story and words being more powerful than any army, sort of all felt less than [compared] to [having] it sort of personified in this sort of creature that’s raison d'être is to collect stories because they are so powerful. It was great. And the name Seanchaí actually comes from... It was a position in Ireland where you were a storyteller, and you went between the halls of kings, and you went to chieftains and people, and they were the most powerful people in the land and kings were fucking terrified of them – and queens – because one bad story would destroy you as a king. And they were far more worried about that than any army. And then bringing that back to life in this world, it just all clicked. It was one of those lovely synchronous moments of story.

Because the child of Fjall and the Lark is supposed to carry forth (not sing, carry) the first note of the song...

...and one of her blood shall sing the last note of that song.

And when Jaskier asks Seanchai "Why did you save me from the Temerians?", she answers "I need you to sing a story back to life. We're related you an I."

She then explains that he's a bard and she's a storyteller, of a sort...

But that's just the thing. A storyteller might be able to carry the notes of a song - for centuries, perhaps - but she would need a bard to actually sing it when the time was right.

And yeah... The idea that she meant a bit more than just "storytellers and bards have a lot in common" when she said "we're related, you and I", would be intriguing...

The problem, however, is that should it be Jaskier (regardless of him being related to Seanchai or not...), it would sort of make that part of the Ithlinne's Prophecy extremely literal. Almost too literal, one might say.

Not to mention that the way the scene is filmed really seems to be meant to heavily imply that it is Jaskier.

Because, when Seanchai says "...and one of her blood shall sing the last", we are pulled out of the past to the present, where Jaskier is seen writing the last words of a story.

And, when he tries to get her to elaborate on who she's referring to, the answer Jaskier gets is: "Sing the 'Song of the Seven', Sandpiper".

Then, when Jaskier looks back at the last page of the story he's just written, the camera zooms in on "...and one of her blood shall sing the last.", while it starts raining, some dramatic ominous music starts playing, and Jaskier is suddenly back to standing on the battlefield.

So, it feels like she's giving him the answer to his question by telling him to sing.

Then, Seanchai goes on, saying "...so the oppressed may find hope and strenght in the tale of their ancestors; and be ready for the great change to come;" and you see an elf come to squeeze Jaskier's shoulder to let him know the battle is won (at least, this one), and invite him to follow them.

And, even if the only way that Seanchai and Jaskier were "related" would be through their love for either collecting and preserving stories, and/or sharing those stories with the world, she still says that she needs him to sing a story back to life.

So, if you were a powerful ancient elf that actually knew who was meant to sing the very last note of a specific story, wouldn't you want to let them know how the story actually began, too?

Jaskier: I'm just a bard.

Seanchai: In her mind, going:

A bard with a blood marked by beast and magic, that felt an instant connection and deep sense of kinship towards a Witcher that everyone hated, feared, and called a "Butcher"...

A bard that brought said Witcher to Calanthe's banquet - where he prevented Duny's demise, and claimed his future daughter, the Elder Blood Princess, as his own.

A bard that brought the Witcher to Yennefer of Vengenberg, the sorceress that would come to love that child as her own daughter, too, and help protect and raise her, too.

A bard that feels intimately drawn to everyone on the Continent - men, women, elves, dwarves, even polymorphous, apparently... - regardless of race or creed, and would step in and risk his life to protect those being persecuted on the basis of being seen as "the other"...

A bard that embodies the complexity, beauty, and diversity of everyone's stories on the Continent, and feels like - if the muses stopped talking to him and inspiring him to write and sing those songs - he'd have no idea who he was anymore, and would no longer be able to do the one thing he was put on this Continent to do?

A bard that inspires people to grow, get involved, and ultimately become the better versions of themselves...

A bard, whose ancestors' fight against Balor lead to the Conjunction of the Spheres, the arrival of the humans on the Continent, of the monsters, the creation of the Witchers, and the beginning of a story that he'll witness and sing the conclusion of.

But yes, just a bard.

But yeah, it's like the show is pointing us so strongly in Jaskier's direction and wanting us so much to think it's him that it's almost suspicious or "too easy" to assume it's him.

What also makes me hesitate, in some ways, is that people would expect someone that's been described as having "a blood like no other, marked by beast and magic", to be exhibiting superhuman powers of some sort, and have powerful magic of their own, I suppose.

While Jaskier is very much human. But Seanchai (and the show runners, apparently) sees great power in the ability to shape the world through storytelling, and she makes it sound like she truly respects Jaskier's "power", and the way he's been using his voice to help change people's perception of outcasts.

Even "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was all about changing the way people irrationally feared and reviled witchers, and treated them as freaks.

Yes, he threw Filivandrel and the elves under the bus with that one!

No one's denying that, and I've always headcanoned that one of the reasons why he became the Sandpiper is because he realized he truly messed up with "Toss A Coin", and was attempting to take responsibility for his mistakes and right some of his wrongs.

But "Toss A Coin To Your Witcher" was still about changing people's perception of witchers, so that Geralt would be seen as a noble, brave, larger-than-life heroic protector that was also a friend you could just enjoy a pint with, rather than some unrelatable mutant freak without any emotion that one should fear and keep their distance from in general, unless they had an even more dangerous monster needing killing.

He tried helping one outcast, but sadly made things worse for others.

And we also have to remember that we're talking about a very young Jaskier that had been brought up in the human world until then, and likely didn't fully grasp nor understand how much damage humanity had done to the elder races. We're talking about someone with a fairly limited worldview that genuinely thought elves were just "hiding in their golden palaces" while humanity suffered until, like, seconds ago.

Filivandrel might have started shaking those perceptions, but I doubt it would have been enough to completely make him unlearn all the lies and prejudices he'd been taught, and fully realize that what had happened to Filivandrel wasn't the exception when it came to elves, but the norm.

Now, Jaskier knows and understands better. Back then? He still had things to learn. I guess my point is that, despite all of his flaws and shortcomings as a young bard, Jaskier was still using his voice in ways meant to help someone connect with, and be accepted by, the world.

He's always been highly empathetic, and likely to spontaneously side with those that needed to have a voice after having been cast aside.

And, should Jaskier be, indeed, the descendant of the very first Witcher, it does add a rather unique element to the way he immediately trusted that he'd be safe traveling with Geralt, and never instinctively feared who and what he was, regardless of the reputation he'd acquired after Blaviken.

Something in Jaskier's DNA would apparently be telling him that Witchers make perfectly suitable life companions!

And Fjall was kicked out of his clan when they found out he was having an affair with Princess Merwyn!

So, getting into trouble because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry would be a family trait that would go back generations!

It can't be helped, really!

Éile was into Dog Clan people and Witchers.

Jaskier is into Wolf Clan people and Witchers.

Fjall was into Royals and Bards.

Jaskier is into Royals and Himself.

These three are obviously related!

"Song of the Seven" would be a part of Jaskier's own heritage, too. He'd be singing about the history of his own ancestors, and their very own "found family", rather than singing about a group of outcasts he has no intimate or personal connection to.

And, should Éile indeed be one of Jaskier's ancestors...

Well, she was called "The Lark"...

And Jaskier chose to call himself "The Sandpiper"...

It's actually what Seanchai replied when Jaskier asked "Are you sure you've got the right man for this?"

Something like "Of course I am. You're the Sandpiper. Smuggler of elves to safety."

Apparently, small sandpipers are also sometimes called "sand larks".

So...

If Jaskier was the one referred to in that part of that Prophecy, then the song would start with the Lark's seed... and end with a Sand Lark!

Then, there's Radovid...

Because, of course, out of Jaskier's entire repertoire, he would be drawn to that song the most!

A part of me can't help but think I'm just looking way too deep into this, and making connections that are probably extremely accidental, but still, I can't help but think it would be really cool if Jaskier did end up being the Continent's MVP, in a sense.

If the whole point of Blood Origin - beyond giving us some insight on how the first Witchers were created and why, the Conjunction of the Spheres, the humans arriving on the Continent, etc. - was to clearly establish bards/storytellers (namely Éile, Jaskier, Seanchai...) as being some of the most powerful beings of their world.

While some would probably find it anticlimactic that Ithlinne's Prophecy, in "Blood Origin", would simply be about a "humble human bard" that would have inherited Éile's gift for storytelling and singing - rather than some sort of primal power or something (due to their connection to the first Witcher) - I think it would be fitting.

Dijkstra & Philippa: We have control over Redania’s resources!

Radovid: I have a Sandpiper.

He's just like the Queen on the chessboard, fiercely protecting the King by messing up the other pieces' moves, hard to predict because he can take off in too many directions and in too many ways...

And everyone's also after him, trying to knock him down, because he just keeps fucking their game over!

Also, as it turns out, there were many more character posters this season! And Jaskier wasn't the only one without a "physical weapon" or object of some sort...

But my favorite's got to be Radovid. I mean Jaskier's standing there, taking everything in, hyper-alert and ready to do "something" about it.

And our poor sweetheart is just... standing there with his fur heavy blanket cloak, discreetly looking over his shoulder, looking half-curious about what's happening and half totally done with this shit, just about ready to pour himself yet another drink...

Story of his life!

[aroacettorney]

Love(?) languages: Ludgercasey Edition

1. Physical touch threats

(c203) Ludger pushed Casey against the wall. "Tsk!" Ludger's strong right arm grabbed Casey's wrist. A dagger hidden in the palm of his left arm's prosthetic sprung out, aiming at Casey's neck. However, Casey, a veteran mage who had faced many real battles while solving numerous incidents, was not one to be trifled with. From the moment her wand flew away, she summoned water from the underground canal, creating countless spears. The moment Ludger aimed the blade at her neck and the water spears surrounded him happened simultaneously. Their gazes intertwined in the air. Casey smirked, "Impressive man. A mage hiding such skills?" "Stay still. Any nonsense and you'll have a hole in your throat." "Try me. I wonder, will you be faster, or will I be faster at killing you?" "You're just bluffing." Ludger and Casey glared at each other, not averting their gazes. Sharp swords and water spears crackled with murderous intent.

2. Un-quality time

(c257) "Casey Selmore. I recommend that you not pursue me any longer." "Ha. You provoked me and now you want me to stop? Do you think I will?" "Are you bluffing? I admire that spirit." "Let's see if you can remain so condescending when I catch you." "Do you not value your life?" "If I cared about something like that, I wouldn’t have done this job in the first place." "Then try hard to chase after me. This is a game." "What?" "You chase me, I run away from you. Of course, in the meantime, I plan to finish the events that have unfolded beyond this city and throughout the kingdom." "……Do you think I’ll let that happen?" "The beauty of the game is not knowing who will win. But I think I'll have an advantage if it continues like this, so I'll give you a hint." "Who are you to decide that!" "I will move to the next major city, Dartanx. If you want to catch me, come there." "Why should I believe what you say? You could escape to somewhere else for all I know." "If you’re scared, you don’t have to come. Of course, it would be your regret later after someone dies there." "Fine. I'll go. Wash your neck there and wait." "I look forward to it."

3. Receiving gifts Incurring debt

(c490) "I knew it would be like this. Are you sure you did that on purpose?" "But isn’t it fortunate that we now have separate rooms?" "That’s right. That's really fortunate. I could have been completely helpless against a wolf-like man." "That’s not something someone who is more foxy than anyone else in the world would say. And let me tell you, you owe me twice." "Ah. Is that so? I would not have reacted if it weren’t for you? Debt is 1." "But I saved you. Surely you don't underestimate your own value that much? Debt is 2." "It doesn’t matter because I’m the troublemaker that the family is so willing to give away. Debt is 1." "If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been assigned a new room because of this incident. Debt is 2." [...] "Fine. I’ll give in and make it 1.5." "Wait a moment. What even is the concept of 1.5 in debt? Just clear it cleanly.” "Then round it up to 2." "I'll give in and make it 1.5." "Ha. Since I am the one who erased the debt, I guess I can be generous and let it go.” "How annoying." "You’d better pay off your debt to me quickly. Otherwise, I don’t know what I’ll ask for." "Ha! You're bluffing. Do you think I’d be scared of that?" "……" "……You’re bluffing, right?"

4. Acts of service sabotage

(c237) "So, how did you two meet? What's the relationship between you?" Attempting to force a joint gathering, Casey immediately directed her questions at Selina. Selina, initially intending to protest against this intrusion, unexpectedly found herself entangled in a barrage of questions and responded almost involuntarily. "Uh, well, Professor Ludger and I are both teachers at Ceoren." "Oh! Really? Could I ask what major you teach?" "Uh, Spiritology." "Wow! That's impressive! Dealing with spirits is considered challenging unless you have a natural affinity, right?" "I guess?" Normally, Selina should have been furious, but due to her weak demeanour, she was naturally swayed by Casey's words. Ludger looked at Casey's behaviour with disapproval, but Casey ignored his gaze and continued the conversation naturally. "As for that human, I mean, Professor Ludger, how did you end up here together? This is really a date, right?" "Oh, no! A date? No way! It's not like that!" Reacting vehemently as if pricked by a needle, Selina's intense response made Casey catch on. Selina seemed to have a liking for Ludger. Casey felt a twinge of pity. 'How could a girl who is so beautiful and genuine fall for such a bad guy?' If you look at Ludger's behaviour, it was nothing more or less than his attitude towards his co-workers. To think that she would harbour an unrequited love. Moreover, Ludger's true identity was not as innocent as he seemed. 'This won't do. I need to save her from him.' Casey was passionately planning to sabotage Ludger's date(?) as if saving someone's life.

5. Words of affirmation provocation

(c237) At that moment, Selina couldn't resist her curiosity and asked, "Um, how did you two become acquainted? What's the relationship between you?" Selina had a hunch that there was something between Ludger and Casey. Not only did Casey's behaviour of recognizing Ludger and casually engaging in conversation indicate it, but Ludger, who usually kept his emotions hidden, was overtly displaying his displeasure. 'If Ludger reacts like that, it's not an ordinary relationship.' Although Ludger's response seemed just as irritable as usual, Selina felt it resembled the interactions between close friends. 'It must be a misunderstanding. It has to be.' As Selina was praying silently for this to be true, Casey replied, "Ah, this jerk... I mean, this person, right? We just happened to meet. Of course, we're not that close. Well, that much?" "You don't need to bother too much about this useless person who only causes trouble for me," Ludger added. "What? Hold on a second. Aren't your words a bit too much? Calling me useless!" "I simply stated the obvious." "Well, I can relate to that sentiment." Listening quietly, Betty chimed in at Ludger's words. "It's hilarious. When it comes to measuring nuisances, you're worse, you know?" "Hmph. That's just your personal opinion." Seeing the banter between the two, Selina's expression darkened, "Oh, so you two are really close." Selina's gaze shifted towards the fork she held in her hand.