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emilykaldwen · 19 days

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need…

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened…

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound…

I should make amends, it is right…

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest…

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her…

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday…

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass…

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears.

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel.

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat?

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face.

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest. “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys.

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens.

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?”

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him.

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way.

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears.

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her.

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed.

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again.

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

#my fic #hotd tag #house of the dragon #hotd fic #hotd oc #fyeahgotoc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #baela targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #oc: abrogail strong #aegon x abby #abrogon #otp: do not go far from me #man tagging is so annoying

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fornshinoyaz · 11 months

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ you are my starlight...

a tobio kageyama social media au <3

☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★

★ — PAIRING kageyama x fem!reader, slight oikawa x fem!reader if you squint

★ — GENRE social media au, college au

he was your sun, the center of your universe. you thought you were the sun of his world too. but tobio kageyama was always too selfish for his own good. with both of you being bitter exes, sparks fly when you become the boys’ manager for your ex’s rival volleyball club.

or where bitter exes turn into bitter rivals & kageyama can never seem to stay away from you even if it feels like choking on stardust.

★ — TAGS lovers to enemies to rivals to friends to lovers, kageyama is DUMB, a little silly so a little ooc, fluff at times but kageyama is dumb, but not too much, slight fuckboy!kageyama, second chances, mutual pining, bad communication, angsty i’m sorry but it gets better after the first half, slow burn, kageyama slander ok but not that ok, but he’s a sweetheart when it counts, no love triangles that are taken SERIOUS, will update tags as i go

★ — WARNINGS will update as i go, swearing, can have slightly suggestive moments but nothing graphic, slight inaccuracies when it comes to university in japan for plot sake, some ooc moments but it’s fine, death jokes/threats used by characters

★ — STATUS ongoing! (started 7.18.23)

☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★

tokyo university hotties.

waseda university bros.

☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★⌒☆⌒★

★ — CHAPTERS! (will feature written portions).

ACT 1

00. prologue 1 ✵ prologue 2

01. 6:30 in tokyo

02. can i get a shoutout?

03. it only gets worse

04. the chipmunks

05. old & new stalkers

06. girlfriends

07. welcome home

08. surprise visit (features written)

09. 4:30 in tokyo (features written)

10. the real streamers

11. kill me after i graduate

12. made me double take

13. knock knock

14. baby, you’re dead to me (features written)

15. japan didn’t miss you (features written)

a/n: here it is! i’ve been working on this for a record amount of like 24 hours. now i can breathe. i have some chapters already planned. i’m excited to see where this series goes! i was rlly torn on who should the li should be, but here i couldn’t help myself. this was originally an oc of mine, but i changed it to fit the reader. alrightttt, i hope whoever enjoys reading this as much as i enjoyed making it!!!

icons used are not mine, nor of the images used in this fic. thank you~. this page’s format was heavily inspired by @idlerin. their smau’s are so cute n rlly did push to me to try to make one of my own, anyone who reads this should def check theirs out! thank you!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #tobio kageyama #haikyuu smau series #haikyuu smau #hq x reader #hq angst #hq fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu kageyama #hq tobio #hq kageyama #txt smau #exes to lovers

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malacandrax · 1 month

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hi sry this is a lil long but i just felt like giving my own comments about ur post re: feeling left out/regarding more detailed work, and wanted to say that your work singlehandedly has inspired me SO much to the point that because of your more simplistic coloring/shading and focus on movement/body language, i was finally able to find a coloring/rendering style that i actually like aesthecially and enjoy doing! i've struggled w replicating color in a way i like digitally for over 6 years but your work, and especially so your sketchbook scans on patreon have been so useful for inspiration and for my own understanding of anatomy and what not. we're always our own worst critics with comparison and whatnot, but please know that your work and your style are a huge accomplishment and skill in their own right, and your comics inspire me to keep studying so i can one day make my own!!! i'm so thankful you share your work with us and to have come across it and be able to draw inspiration off it! your colors, expressions, and the palpable intimacy and dynamic character interactions are so amazing and specifically unique to your work, never doubt the impact it has just because of other's having a different style or approach or something <3

This is so extremely nice I don't even know what to say!!! I honestly feel so hyped that my style inspired someone else, I feel like it's not something I expected and its SO COOL. I sometimes feel like my style isn't particularly STYLISH you know, I often admire really strong punchy styles, so it's nice to hear my own kind of chiller style is inspiring! And that the things I enjoy come across as strengths, too! Also I am so happy to hear someone enjoys my sketchbooks haha, they're really precious to me but I also try not to be too fussy about my art in them which means it's not 'beautiful'*- they're for studying and/or chilling out, so it's SO nice that it's inspiring nonetheless! Wishing you the best in your art journey and also I think if you want to make comics you should just give it a go! Make teeny tiny comics! [it does not have to be good] [tangent oh my god] I feel very hypocritical because for the longest time comics were something my friends made and I didn't know how to, and I felt like my style didn't work for comics, but honestly when I eventually sat down and started a long comic the style happened out of necessity, I Had to simplify or I wouldn't be able to keep up. And you can see from the links that I just did sketchy comics before and that was fine! I think it was just as valuable as making polished pages. I actually probably ended up making comics For Real because I made a silly fandom ask blog, where I kept wanting to say more than I could do in one image, and that gave me the confidence to try something longer with OC's.

ANYWAY thank you so much!

*I find polished sketchbooks so inspiring, but its so limiting imo to try to make a beautiful sketchbook HAHAHAH

#this is so many backhanded negatives about my own work im sorry i swear I am not fishing #I love my work!#but i always want to get better!#I get really excited about learning new stuff #opening my sketchbook to draw fucking collarbones or some shit lol #mal talks

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riddlebot · 1 year

Text

Welcome Home - Beginner's Guide!

Want to get into Welcome Home but overwhelmed and not sure where to start? This post is for you!!

I've seen a lot of people who are interested but aren't sure where to begin, or even how to begin! Lucky for you, we are currently in the prologue, so it'll be easy to get caught up!

I'm gonna put this under a read more because it's quite a big chunk of text.

For starters, I'm going to post some of Clown's (the creator of WH, @partycoffin) wishes as far as fandom and engaging with content:

No publicly posted NSFW (as of right now) of the characters! Clown has stated they aren't sure how they feel about this just yet, and so have asked people to not do this. Do not sell merchandise or art with WH characters! This is Clown's intellectual property and he is just one person! The only person that should be making money from WH is Clown! Please don't repost people's art, including Clown's! It's really sad this has to be stated at all - everything on the website is free to use and spread around, but don't repost Clown's art from his blog or twitter! Not everything is canon and reposting old art confuses newcomers and is also just rude. Shipping is fine, as is fan works, making OC's for WH, and cosplay! Do not send Clown theories, fanscripts, comics, ect. They are still working on the story and do not want to accidentally use someone else's idea.

CONTENT WARNINGS! This is directly from Clown's website.

Common attributes in Welcome Home that may not be suitable for all audiences are listed below!

Eyes, eye contact, or staring.

Unreality or derealization.

Gore.

Puppets or mannequins.

Exploration of heavy topics, like death, isolation, and mental health.

Auditory unease, such as unpleasant sounds.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Its also important to note that this is currently the prologue and the story itself will not actually start for quite some time. Also, the only things that are currently canon are things that are found on the website. Any of Clown's concept art or art found not on the website is not canon within the story at this time.

Now, with that out of the way - here is where I would recommend getting started! Like a lot of other current WH fans, watching NightMind's video introducing the ARG is a great start! He also has a second video outlining some of the clues he and his audience found.

The second video isn't a necessary watch as I will be going over all the clues here, but it's there if you want it! (Note, the second video is a stream VOD of his and his stream alerts can be quite jarring and loud so just be warned.)

There is also this google document with an outline of clues, but I'm going to list most of them in this post as well in a more cohesive way.

HARD EVIDENCE - I'll be outlining them page by page, and only listing things that are not speculative evidence.

Intro Page (/welcomehomeyou) - Scroll down to the blurb at the bottom of the page titled Website Updates. In the first paragraph you should notice the letter Y in the word "your" is offset from the rest of the text.

Welcome Home (/whats-welcome-home) - Underneath the black and white drawing of Howdy there are 2 paragraphs of text. In the last sentence of the second paragraph, the W of Wally's name is offset from the rest of the text.

About Us (/about-us) - In the FAQ there are several things of note. - First, in the answer to "How did you begin you research into WH? There is hidden text visible when you highlight over it that reads "But it hurts." Seemingly in response to them being thankful to be the first to start this journey. - There is text laid over (or under?) the answer to "Why did you make this website?" It reads: "When I unwrapped the first letter, I felt it. I heard it. Open. Open. Open. I want it out. I’m going to get it out." At the end of this answer, the apparent restoration team says "It mean it is inside of you too, then," in relation to other people having said they remember the show. There is also more hidden text that seems to follow this, asking: "Does it hurt?" - Further down, after the end of the answer about episode numbers, there is more hidden text that reads: "The numbers are so hard to read. Sometimes I can’t see them."

The Neighborhood (/your-neighborhood) I will be listing every individual's introduction page here despite them all having their own site pages just for simplicity. There are several things to note here as well- starting off with another offset letter. In the blurb at the bottom of the page, the X in expand is offset. - If you click and drag the picture of Home (mobile users can sometimes see this right away, or see it if you zoom in/out on the page) you will see that behind Home is a dark abyss with a spiral in the center of it. In front of Home there is an invisible link, if you click it, you are taken to So Below (/so-below) which shows a gif of Wally on his knees in front of one of Home's windows/eyes, which is shaking rapidly. - Clicking on the you in "you're" directly above Home in the blurb at the top of the page takes you to the secret page, You. (/you) This page resembles the neighborhood introductions pages, but the blurb is blank. There are dancing letters at the top that say You, and a white paint stroke appears and then text slowly types "Wally is your best friend." - Every resident's page says "go back" in colorful letters underneath them, aside from Wally, who has black lettering that says "good bye!" - Every character is presented in past tense in their bios aside from Wally. - Every neighbor's bio mentions them being a puppet aside from Wally, Eddie, and Julie.

News (/welcome-home-news-page) - The letter E in the gif that says News is out of sync with/below the other letters.

Links (/welcome-home-links) - Two things of note: the only gif on this site that is clickable is Barnaby's, and the WH gif that cycles through every character's eyes always pauses for a beat on Wally's.

Guestbook (/our-guestbook) - The guestbook is a beast in itself so I've left it for last because there is a lot to cover. - First: We find out last offset letter in the guestbook, on page 5. There is an entry that reads "I love you ♡" from Silly mc Billy, that has a crayon doodle repeating the words back. The V in love is offset. - On page 8, in 2 of the blank entry places, are hidden text notes. One is from Wally that reads "You're looking for me. Silly. Silly." The other is from W a L L y that reads "You won't write back." - Almost every crayon doodle over the guestbook entries are hidden messages from who we are assuming is Wally. If you open the images in a new tab, the end of the url (aka the name of the pictures) will have a message in response to the entry he's doodled over. I won't outline them all because there are a lot but definitely take a look at them!

SECRET PAGES - The result of finding all the offset letters! There are 720 combinations of the letters but not to worry, there are only a handful of pages to see! The letters are YWXVE.

try again (/yxwvoe) - Leads to a bugged version of the 404 page. Instead of Home, it shows (assumedly) Wally's telephone, and the text reads "Uh Oh! Uh Oh Loooks like you Wandered wandered wandered tooooooooo far away from Home! Head back." The ck of the word back is in a different font. - If you click on the gif of the phone, it leads to the page duet (/singingmp4) - there is a playable file here of Wally singing the song Beautiful Dreamer. After he is done singing, he says that those are all the words he knows as that is all Barnaby taught him. He asks "Do you like it?" Home answers in a series of bangs and Wally replies, "That's good, I think."

answer (/eovwxy) - a video of a static filled television. there is a lot of brown noise here, nothing can be clearly made out though. a pair of eyes flash in the video at one point as well, seeming to be Wally's eyes. they flash on the screen and roll upward.

try again (/wyxoev) - a gif of home with various cropped eyes cycling quickly over where home's eyes are, before freezing on a single pair. The word "OPEN" slowly is spelled under the gif.

try again (/voywex) - The word "Hello." is slowly typed out and a cropped gif of Wally's eyes suddenly appears. The eyes shake rapidly. More text follows, reading, "You’re there. I can't see you. Do you see me?" And then much more rapidly appearing text, "Then stay quiet."

try again (/woxyve) - This page is covered in various images. Multiple cropped images of a script for an episode of Welcome Home. A gif cycling through the resident's eyes, much like the one on the Links page, but each time it gets to Wally it pauses longer and longer - His pupils also dilate more each time and he gets closer and closer. The gif ends on Wally's red background but he is no longer there.

IMAGES - outside of the guestbook, a lot of the images on the website have interesting details of note.

At the bottom of the What's Welcome Home page, there are several images in a gallery. Several of these have interesting details. I do want to say though that several of the images in this gallery come from art Clown did in response to asks, ect. So I am not sure how much of this weirdness can be chalked up to inconsistencies and how much of it is genuine hints or clues. - Image 1: A page out of a magazine or catalog showing off some Welcome Home merchandise. The merchandise in the picture all have lettering, A-C, and the corresponding description of said merch at the bottom of the page. But there is also a letter D in the image next to a blank space, with no description. The D is crossed out. - Image 3 + 4: A We'll Be Right Back screen featuring Frank and Julie cooking. If you mess with the exposure of the B/W version of this image, it reveals faint white text over the "We'll Be Right Back!" that reads "May Your Home Be" - Image 5: At the bottom right, the text along the side of the image reads "Hello you" - Image 12: Wally's Halloween costume is a red devil. - Image 13: Wally creepily looking outside of a pitch black Home, with text that reads "There he is!" - Image 26: The book Wally is reading shows the same scene he and Barnaby are portraying in this image.

About Us has 2 interesting images: - the original version of the Julie and her siblings is covered in paint and very wrinkled, as well as the picture taken of it being very dark. The bottom of the image depicts a human hand in a blue latex glove holding the page. - in the gif of Frank's head spinning, the titles of the books next to him read (from top to bottom) Hello / It’s You Know Who / I'm your neighbor / Do you think about me? You do / I’ve felt you.

If you read this whole post, wowza! I hope you enjoy getting into WH! Despite laying out most of the hints and clues in this post, I still very much recommend going to the site yourself and poking around. There are a lot of little things I didn't cover here as they aren't concrete, so there is still plenty to discover!

Also, if you haven't already, you should go follow Clown, and consider supporting him on ko-fi so he can continue to work on this project, as well as continue their education and hopefully move into a safer home!

#p #this took.... like 3 hours to write....#wh

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misc-obeyme · 4 months

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Cc BELOVED

Hello!!! I see for your event my two loves are already locked in (Arv, I see you slamming that button for Barbatos thank you for your service

What if I requested ink for Aresenios? Sksksksk sorry I’m in love w your OC

Or diavolo! If we’re sticking with originals characters

Ily bb SMOOCH

AH SILVER ILY. Yes, I am fully accepting requests for Arsenios, so I definitely wrote it with him. (Sorry Dia...) Thank you so much, I'm so happy that you like him!

I really enjoyed writing this, too, but of course because it's Arrie and I love writing about him lol!

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Arsenios (OC) with prompt ink

Warnings: none!

You had been sitting a few seats down from Arsenios at a large table in the RAD library for some hours now. He hadn't even looked up when you sat down, completely absorbed in the papers in front of him. You didn't see any books, so you didn't think he was studying. He was relaxed, but his eyes never once left the paper. He was writing something with what appeared to be a fountain pen.

You didn't worry about it, pulling out your own books to start studying for your next exam. Every once in a while, you couldn't help peeking over at him, but he never looked up.

That is, until he finally did.

And then you were met with purple grey eyes full of curiosity and you suddenly wondered if he had been aware of you the entire time.

"You've been here for hours," he said. "Have you taken a break? You should drink some water."

You reached into your bag, pulled out your water bottle, and shook it slightly to demonstrate that it was only partly full. "Don't worry," you said. "I thought of that. Anyway, it's not like you've moved at all since I got here. Do demons not need water?"

Arsenios smiled and put his hands up. "You got me," he said.

You noticed the smudges of ink across his palms. "What have you been doing anyway?" you asked. "You have ink all over your hands."

Arsenios looked down at his hands, turning them over briefly before turning back to the pages on the table. "I was writing a song," he said. "Got caught up in it, you know? Didn't realize I was getting ink on myself. Maybe my pen has a leak?"

He picked up the pen and began to inspect it.

You sighed, taking pity on him. You took out your water bottle and a handkerchief. Then you moved a few seats down so you were sitting next to him.

"Here, let me try this," you said. You dampened the handkerchief with water and then took one of his hands.

For a moment you were distracted by the warmth of his skin and the pattern of the black magic circle tattoo on the back of it. There was a black smudge across it - ink on ink. You began to wipe at it, hoping some of it might come off.

You could feel Arsenios's eyes on you. All this time, they had been fully occupied by the sheets on the table. Now they were looking at you with that same intensity. You felt the blush creeping up your cheeks and you didn't notice how the water did nothing to remove the ink stains on his hands.

Arsenios put his free hand over yours - the one still wiping at his light brown skin with the handkerchief. Now all you could see were your hands entwined with his. You took in the tattoos, the splotches of ink, the nails painted grey.

"MC," Arsenios said, his voice somehow making your name sound like a symphony.

You looked up and saw an amused expression. It was a slightly crooked smile and gleaming eyes.

"That won't work," he said. "I can't get fountain pen ink off my fingers even when I scrub them with soap. I just have to wait a few days and it will fade on its own. I appreciate you trying, though."

You realized that meant you could move away. You could pull back your hands and go back to your seat where your books awaited you. But you couldn't bring yourself to move, caught in his touch.

Arsenios reached out to place his fingertips gently against your cheek. You should have turned away then, but instead you found yourself leaning into his hand. Your eyes closed almost of their own accord and your body involuntarily sagged. It was as though you'd been hit with a wave of fatigue that you'd been fighting off for the last hour of your study session.

"Let me walk you home, MC," Arsenios said. "You need to get some rest."

You didn't protest. You let him pull you to your feet, his hand holding onto yours as he gathered your things, shouldering your bag himself. He didn't let go until you were at the House of Lamentation's front door.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me oc #obey me oc x reader #omswd #omnb #om oc #om oc x reader #misc oc arsenios #misc cozy comforts #misc writes

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twistedwonderlandobsession · 5 months

Note

I hope this is a good idea so if it's okay can I please ask for a romantic yandere riddle

With kianna komori

One shot

Like in this scenario

He meets her through ACE

As a human that came to Wonderland but decided to stay

Since there was no way of getting back home

And she would much rather stay in twisted Wonderland then go back to her world that she called hell

And something with this vibe:

By the way she is an OC of mine you can find more information about her on my page here on Tumblr and you don't have to take this request if you don't want to

A World Away

Type: Angst

Character(s): Riddle, Cater, Trey

Format: Oneshot

Catagory: Character x oc

!!Warnings!!: Possessiveness, Obsession, Stalking, Power imbalance, kidnapping

Riddle hummed while going through the multitupe of photos he had of her that he had taken through the day for the umpteenth time. Weaving through the ones that weren't absolutely perfect, throwing out the few that were tainted with some insignificant fool interacting with her. Placing the ones that were no short of perfection in his scrapbook that he had, filled with photos of her during her day to day life from waking in the morning to sleeping in the dead of night. He had a multitude of scrapbooks filled with her day to day life. Starting almost a year ago when she arrived in this twisted world , the wonderland he was prepared to tear from its verry roots and rebuild to her every standard to make it perfect for her.

Finishing his twenty-fourth simple rough draft of the heartfelt letter he was attempting to write for their one month anniversary. Growling when his cursive letter s was 1 millimeters taller then it should be. Crumbling the mostly completed paperthrowing it into the trash before grabbing a new clean and crisp sheet of paper. Attempting once more, taking painstakingly long to write each and every letter with perfect penmanship, spelling, and grammar.

Finially finishing the letter with the simple signature of

Love, Riddle Rosehearts

His eyes scanning over the page for any imperfection.

"Dear Kianna Komori,

I am delighted to have seen us last this far without petty arguments nor disagreements. I am elated to celebrate our one month anniversary together. Just as a person has a single birthday and 364 unbirthdays we have one anniversary of the wonderful day you accepted me and 364 opportunities to celebrate us in our day to day life. I can still recal the feeling of nervousness I felt as I handed over the letter in which I detailed a mere fraction of my love for you and the bouquet of red roses. The exhilaration filling me when I received your reply. I look forward to next weeks unbirthday party where you may sit next to me as we be merry. I hope we have a wonderful anniversary and many more."

A small amount of sentiment filling him as the corners of his mouth turned upwards into a small smile as he read over the portion describing when he confessed to you. He recalled the intense.....research he had went through to learn every inch of her, it was especially tasking because she had not been born there. He remembered how he checked up on her, followed her, studied her, arranged to be in the same electives and clubs as her, memorized her schedule, he even hired a private detective to follow her and take photos from 7am-6pm....he would have arranged for it to be 24/7 but he decided he would rather not have anyone other then him see those vulnerable moments as she woke up or went to bed or slept late at night. He recalls the day noticed the way that Octavinelle student whispered into her ear, touched her shoulder, flirted with her....the feeling of irritation as he trapped the fish and confronted him, the adrenaline rush as be grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. The sounds of his yelling and the thuds as his fist slammed into him over and over and over. The warm dark red liquid splattering over his face and clothes. The pain in his hand and wrist as the adrenaline rush wore off, staring at the body empty as it laid motionless on the floor. He can recall the simple spell he used to clean of the blood off of everything. The heaviness of the body, no heavier then the thoughts plaguing his mind as he realized that as long as she was single there would be imbeciles like him trying to taint her. His mind clouded with jealousy and rage at the mere thought of her being in a relationship with someone other then himself.

That was all the confirmation he needed to prove to himself he needs to begin courting her.

So he immediately began doing soz carrying her bag, paying for groceries, holding open doors, subtly flirting, offering his assistance whenever he could sneak it into the conversation.

Then finally the confession, the letter delivered instructing her to come to the Heartslabyul garden, the tea party he set up just foe the two of then. The rehearsed confession, his hands shaking as he delivered it as he looked down at his tea cup, avoiding eye contact with her.

Watch as her lips pursed together into a straight line and hers posture straightened slightly while she crossed her arms over her chest, her voice coming out monotone as she questioned him

"Is this a joke?"

His heart sank at her response to his genuine confession, preparing for plan B of things didn't go his way, slowly reaching into his pocket for his pen while shaking his head, trying to maintain his firm and serious demeanor as he felt his world crumbling beneath him.

"Of course not."

His voice was smooth as he tried to convince her it was genuine. Watching as her posture relaxed slightly, becoming less ridged as her arms uncrosssed and her hands clasped together in front of her resting on the table over the impeccably draped table cloth.

"Oh....well then I suppose I accept you confession

He smiled as he sent out his letter, with Trey and a gift basket that had a time and place on it, usually he would have done so himself but he has special plans he needed to account for.

Riddles lips pursed in slight irritation at the tardiness of his beloved. He knew she was capable, of course his one and only Queen would be capable. So what caused her to ruin her usual impeccable timing and cause her to be tardy? Especially on their anniversary. Was she being held up by Cater? Social media feign had a poor tendency of harassing others into posing for photos with him he thought he had scolded him enough the last time after he had delayed her and posted images of her on the internet without Him. He should have that insignificant, bone headed-

The sound of a door softly closing broke him out his....thoughts. looking up from his desk only to see her....His rose. Keeping his Stern facial expression for only a moment, before it softened slightly. Not by much, barely noticeable, but to her she saw straight through it. Easing up slightly when she noticed he wasn't to terribly upset and was immediately soothed by her presence alone.

She could feel her anxiousness welling up inside her as she stood in his room. Speaking softly as if any word may set him off. She wouldn't want that, she wasn't scared of him, nor was she scared of violence, but she didn't want to upset him. He was her world, her everything, her sheild from the past, from the trauma. He cared for her truly and deeply, and she would do anything and everything to keep him.

"They found a way back."

He froze at that sentence. A growl emanating from his throat as he immediately peiced together the meaning and why she was so tardy. Crowley had held her back to speak with her. His response was immediate without hesitant nor regret.

"You aren't leaving."

She nodded, not wanting to leave him or return to that damn world. Her hands clenched and balled into fists.

"I don't want to leave.....Crowley is forcing me."

He sighed, figuring that the cheapskate was trying to get his of Queen so that he no longer had to pay the minimal amount of money and provide arrangements for her while claiming it was best for her. Taking a deep breath in holding it for a few seconds, counting to ten before releasing it. Trying to rack his brain for any viable solutions that would secure her spot by his side forever. Gently grabbing her hand and speaking calmly and softly while maintaining eye contact.

"When is he trying to send you off?"

She sighed sadly before replying reluctantly. Like the mere thought of leaving his side would scar her forever.

"Tommorow...."

He hissed in frustration before looking her in her eyes and, cooed to her soothingly.

"No need to worry my love, I'll take care of it all. Let us not let this ruin our anniversary."

He proceeded to lead her to his suprise of the decorated garden, slowly his usual pace down so they were walking at the same pace so that he didn't leave her fumbling behind with her cane. smiling softly, not allowing his face to reciprocate the thoughts swirling within his mind. Sitting her down at the table, he had set up for the two of them for a romantic dinner, pulling out her chair for her and waiting till she sat down before pushing in her chair till she was 2 inches exactly away from the table, a distance he knew she preferred. Sitting down himself before speaking.

"So, did you get the gift basket?"

Riddle watched as she strode away from Heartslabyul. Already setting his plan into motion. sending a simple text before heading up to his room to retrieve some things.

Kianna paced herself after she had left, she had been intercepted by Cater and held back foe fifteen minutes and released but a few moments prior. Now on the direct route to Ramshackle.

"Huh....that was kinda nice...too bad I won't be able to see him or do that again after I leave...No. stop thinking like that. He said he would fix it, I should probably have faith in him he is my partner....though just in case I should write a letter for when I'm gone..."

She muttered quietly to herself while walking down the now dark road, not even the lamps being lit due to Crowley trying to save money by claiming it was to save the ecosystem. Her eyelids getting heavy, trying to fight her sudden drowsiness before her eyes went black.

Riddle blinked, calmly slipping his pen back inside of his coat pocket before stepping out of the shadowy trees surrounding the path and into the pale moonlight. His healed boots clicking with each step as he strode twords the passed out body of his lover. Kneeling down to her level, looking her over admiring every detail down to the tiny scars on her body. Gently moving aside her cane out of his way before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Lowering his lips to her for head, pressing a gentle kiss while whispering under his breath.

"I promise love nothing will separate us...let me whisk you away for a world ment for two."

With that he slid his hand under her back, placing his right forearm under her knees, lifting her up. Mumbling something under his breath before a portal appeared before them taking hi first step through, his thoughts swirling with the new home, one for just him and her.....

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst #twst scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland riddle #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twst x reader #yandere twst

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ciaossu-imagines · 1 month

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No offence but why should people have to pay for stuff from you when 99% of creators on here would post the same things for free

Well, I really debated just deleting this. I really did. Or plain out blocking this anon. Because I really do try to ignore negativity in the inbox, truly, and normally do delete it. But I'll answer this one, in a mo', after I first say...putting no offense in front of an ask that is meant to be rude, to either hurt my feelings or make me feel bad, doesn't suddenly make it inoffensive. In fact, pretty much guaranteed that if you feel the need stick 'no offense' in front of something, you know it'll be offensive, or at the very least, rude, and you're trying to excuse a dick move. Question too...are you sending this ask to every fanartist accepting commissions too, or just the writers? My guess is a solid no, but hey, maybe you can prove me wrong.

Next point - nobody should be paying me anything right now. My commissions are temporarily closed. I'm not really accepting any at the moment because I'm on day 10 of a stretch of 12 days at work before I have one day off, after which I pull another 12 days before I get 2 whole days off. I'm struggling to find time to finish the two commissions I do have and to write to build up the queue on here again so I can continue to put out things on here again. I'm pulling at least one all-nighter a week just to make progress on those two things.

Again - free stuff. Because I definitely do offer lots of that. Commissions are done on top of me writing plenty for free, not instead of. It's simply not as long, or as detailed, and has rules around what I'll comfortably write.

Now onto actual commissions. All but two of the commissions I've handled have been incredibly personalized, either match ups for the actual person on the other side of the screen or working with people's self-inserts or OCs. The two that weren't were for incredibly rare pairs that don't have a lot of people writing for them (ShouheixYata from K Project and Sherlock Holmes (novel version) x Hiruma Yoichi from Eyeshield 21. Please show me even 5% of tumblr routinely putting out content for those pairings because I would enjoy reading anything from them.

For my match ups, smutty ones are at least 5 pages, while romantic and platonic ones have never gone below 7 pages and have, at times, gone as long as 15 pages and include intensely thought out explanations of why they're compatible with that character, what the relationship would be like, how the commissioner fits into the Canon universe, and at least 3, usually more other characters they could be compatible with, how those characters would know the commissioner and fit into their story and why the relationship might not work. I struggle to find blogs willing to do matchups even half that length and intricacy so please, direct me to the 95% of writers that will do that for free.

For my stories, the shortest I've done was 10 pages where I made a whole $1 per page. The longest has been 65 pages where I made $50. They all also come with a music mix and a storyboard with alternate ways the story could have gone and at least 5 new headcanons about the OC and the ship. Please, again, direct me to the 95% of tumblr writers willing to do that for someone else's self-insert ship or OC ship for free, of that length, with the extras. Most writers I know might occasionally write a friend's OC but not just anyone's and usually not 30-60 pages for them.

Long story short, I don't force anyone to commission me. If you don't want to and just want to enjoy the free stuff, that's perfectly cool with me! If you don't like that I take commissions, block me. If you feel everything I write is so generic and boring that 95% of other writers have wrote the exact same thing, my blog isn't for you, block me.

#admin chatter

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broomstown-redux-by-light · 21 days

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Greetings!

This is a blog for the lore- and angst-driven Robocar Poli AU brought to you by yours truly, Dave from @light-everything-in-pink! Formerly using @wtpb-rcp (which will be an archive blog now, including archival material from any post from this blog that I'll delete for space reasons), broomstown-redux-by-light will host everything related to its AU namesake...plus bonuses.

This post will be pinned as a tag breakdown, FAQ, and more! Although I do need enough asks or questions before I create a page or singular post for the FAQ.

Now...

First of all, Broomstown Redux is a Robocar Poli AU where the main series (plus Daily Life Safety with Poli/Roy/Amber) gets lore in quantities large enough to fill in gaps that shouldn't exist, from simple surnames of various characters, to bits of backstory explaining what ties this world together, and enough quality that is both entertaining, genuinely concerning (along the lines of the quotes "You lived through that?!" and "YOU DID WHAT?!"), and shows that something's going on under our dear 'Murican town of Broomstown...

Whether figurally or not.

Broomstown Redux will serve as a rewrite for the entire series, where a man never got to say goodbye, where one wrong step was done, where a simple interaction with people who never met before happened, where a single word caused a cascading ripple that changes the timeline.

You though that it's just lore?

Well, you're wrong...It's more than that.

Join Poli who swore he was forgetting about someone, Roy who still feels uneasy with his fellow teammates, Amber who watches over someone coming over, Helly who just wants to enjoy his life, and Jin who was keeping a secret she wished was long out, besides a whole phletora of our dear side characters...and some new ones.

Who could those be?

"..."

Now, for the tag collection!

#Broomstown Redux Intros involves introductions to this blog and various places within this Earth, although it is more of a 'front page' scenario than anything special.

#BR Info tells you about the various characters, places, and timestamps within this AU. TIMELINE OF EVENTS COMING SOON

#BR FAQ will hose the currently non-existent FAQ about this AU. 'Nuff said.

#BR Announcements exist to serve as a place where any sort of announcement is posted. Either a new fic in AO3, upcoming comics, or something else...it's basically that one part of the bulletin board.

#Asks is exactly what it is. Same for #Polls

And #Hm? Are those with the..sussy parts (as in, lore-sussy)

Each character (OCs included) will be tagged with their respective tags, and as long as they have a presence within a post (artwork, loredumping, etc.), they shall be tagged. So don't get nervous when you saw the tag #C4L4M1T7 on a post...she's just chilling ;)

-Custom Colors coming soon.

-New Theme coming soon.

-3RR0R page coming soon. (It exists for a reason...shh...)

And remember, tell me about her (should be yellow) once you spotted that bitch. She likes hiding amongst her favorite things...

....

"Oh Poli..."

"Don't worry. He will remember you."

*sigh* "Don't ya keep mah hopes that high, M####."

"Why shouldn't I?" *Laughs* "And, well, if he had somewhat gotten out of that wrecked place completely, without me noticing him no less, what about a simple man recalling his own s—"

"Helly's a terrifyin'ly genius bish and ya know it."

*chuckles* "You're right, R###"

"Still puttin' on that persona? And tryna pursue him? Ya know she ain't gonna like it when she ever recieved the news that you are doin' so."

"Hush. We don't got marriage rights, anyways."

"Yar not even a Robocar, bish."

"...

"...so, Roy."

"Yeah...we should probably check on his mental status and whatnot. He's surprisingly takin' that bullshit incident—"

"It's not bullshit, R###. Your mom's ex's ex was an ex because he fucking died."

"—well, unless he's hidin' his feelin's, as usual."

"I think your bro will make him open up."

"Both of them are dense bisexuals and ya know it>:("

":)"

"Anyways, I'ma bid ya goodbye. Gotta wrangle some dipshits, including her from eating my stuff."

"Farewell, R###."

"Goodbye, M####."

#Broomstown Redux Intros #BR Announcements #BR Info #BR FAQ #Hm?#robocar poli

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dailycass-cain · 7 months

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Birds of Prey #3 had Cass but it was her smallest role in the series so far to date. HOWEVER, there was A LOT to digest.

So let me get into my thoughts on this issue...

Again this issue was AMAZING even not pertaining to Cass. All the members clicked this issue with Zealot doing her thing with Maps and Dinah/Harley hijinks abound and of course...

Everything keeps escalating from the hidden force subtly playing the Amazons to Wonder Woman doing her best impersonation again of a freaking Nemesis from RE3 (the last time I was this scared of WW was in DCeased: Unkillables).

I'm really curious where the next issue goes other than the obvious fight the team will have with Diana. Not only that but what occurred in Future Map's timeline. The hints writer Kelly Thompson keeps laying out got me curious in how she ties into the threat the BoP are trying to stop.

The issue delivers a moment many of us were hoping would occur last year, and it kind of makes the whole Red Canary angle just more disappointing (many thinking it was Sin then it was a OC who hasn't done much).

So there was A LOT of things that made me love this issue even with the lack of Cass. Because in those few pages we got crammed in of course this golden gem.

We're just gonna add that to the "Cass should be Batman" evidence for a future story. 😝

Though maybe I'm reading more into #1 the lack of bonding with the team (save Barda) is just how socially awkward throughout. We did get it in Batgirls, and well she was one in Spirit World. But here it's more front and center.

She's there just reacting to the team's antics and being like, "Um how am I supposed to react or do with this?" It's a little nugget that I am enjoying.

The real meaty nugget I enjoyed in this issue was Cass vs Amazons. It's a subject many a fan debated how she'd fare against one? Well, we get an answer in this issue (and the next).

Which feels like a better answer than what Red Hood & the Outlaws #15 ever gave us. A fight between these two titans and we only see the final blow. 🙃🙃🙃

I wasn't as salty at it back then (I was happy for the small bones I got). Now? That issue just feels dated.

This one? She takes out two nameless Amazons with little effort (and we get to SEE HOW via artist Leonardo Romero showcasing it all) and the next issue teases a bigger fight?!

GIMME!

I wanna see the limits.

It's also a funny side note how many fans wanted to see Cass on Themyscira. It's a story element the character NEVER had. Somehow, the character has visited the island in the main DCU (at last) and two other properties in this year alone (Harley Quinn: Legion of Bats mini and Dark Knights of Steel).

It feels pretty GOOD seeing the character thrown into elements never used prior, and it kind shows the potential for even more stories.

So yeah, BoP #3 while not giving Cass much to do, still gave the character a lot of elements I truly enjoyed in the issue. Beyond that, the team bonds (or shows the tears within that might cause some more trouble), reunions we longed for, and a BIG fight coming next issue.

#cassandra cain #dc comics #my thoughts

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love-kurdt · 7 months

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How to Write a Good Fanfiction: A 5 Step Manual

Hello! My name is @love_kurdt, also known as Eva, and I’m a Wattpad Veteran of the early 2010s, where the genres of Slash Fics, Y/N, and Imagines ran rampant. I spent years of my life as a kid scrolling through my iPod touch, weeding through Wattpad’s plethora of profiles, on a quest to find quality fanfictions. I found a handful, which I added to a specific reading list to come back to when I needed a break from screaming into my pillow because of the sheer audacity of thought-criminals who called themselves writers.

When I’d reached the point of reading the same five works over and over in a never ending cycle, I decided to make the life-altering decision to start publishing my fanfictions online. Granted, I was only thirteen at this point, so my writing wasn’t spectacular by any means, but I came to discover that over time, the mere acts of reading and writing can light a spark of inspiration that can carry you to creative success.

I’ve been writing my own works for over ten years now, and can confidently say that I have cracked the code to writing a good fanfiction that will have your readers captivated instead of cringing. Please don’t get me wrong– if you want to just write fanfic on the internet for fun, and not to write a novel, that’s great, too! That’s what the internet is for; exercising your free will. But this manual is tailored towards those who want to hone in on their craft and gain a substantial following as strictly fanfiction authors. So without further ado, let’s jump into it. Godspeed!

Step 1: Choose Your Fandom

What show, movie, or book has drawn you in and left you feeling like there should be more to the story? When one of those media comes to mind, you’ve chosen your fandom!

Step 2: Do Your Research

When writing fanfiction, it’s kind of an unspoken rule that you need to know the canon of the fandom you’re writing about. The canon is also known as the source material. For example, if someone were to write a Draco Malfoy x OC fanfiction (*cough* a 200+ page Draco Malfoy self insert fic written at 11 years old in a series of notebooks bound together with multiple layers of Gorilla tape *cough*), the canon would be the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. It’s, in essence, what “really” happened. It’s totally fine if you want to write a non-canon compliant fic, too! In fact, they’re extremely popular, specifically within the “fix-it” genre, which usually involves characters that died in the canon but the author kept alive in their fanfiction. Either way, you should have a general idea of how the canon functions within the context of the fandom, so you can make creative choices that diverge from or stick to the canon.

With the canon comes the fanon, which is basically a compilation of fan theories and headcanons that are often common themes in both canon and non-canon compliant fanfics. A pretty niche example of this is the Byler fandom (the ship between Stranger Things characters Will Byers and Mike Wheeler), where there’s an official list of theories on Tumblr that are used in many, if not most Byler fanfictions. There’s FlickerGate, where the flickering of the garage light in Season 1 is actually Will and Mike in the Upside Down in Season 5. There’s BirthdayGate, where the antagonist, Vecna, manipulates the minds of everyone in Hawkins to forget Will’s birthday, which is a central plot point in a lot of Byler fics since no one seems to remember it, not even his best friend. There’s also LetterGate, where Will confronts Mike in the canon about not sending any letters after he’d moved away, but the theory reveals that Mike wrote plenty of letters– he just never sent them because they ended up turning into love letters, which in turn resulted in internalized homophobia. You get the picture. Most theories reach far into the land of delusion, but it doesn’t stop writers from creating incredible work that could easily be mistaken for a script.

But Eva, what if I just think the characters are hot and I don’t give a shit about the cannonball? I can’t tell you what to do, my friend, but I highly suggest you at least consider the canon so you can avoid all the petty, obnoxious gatekeepers in some fandoms who can be unhinged enough to send death threats if you leave out a significant canonical detail. But you do you!

Step 3: Choose Your Platform

There are three popular platforms to choose from: Archive of Our Own (ao3), Tumblr, and Wattpad. There are also a few other lesser known or dead pages such as fanfiction.net, but I honestly wouldn’t bother with those, since they’re more infiltrated with anons and bots nowadays.

This is where you want to think about 1) where most of the members in the fandom you chose reside, and 2) the demographic of readers you want to reach. For example, I observed a higher number of Nirvana fans on Wattpad than the other two platforms, which is why I chose to post my full length Kurt Cobain fanfiction, “You Know You’re Right,” on there. It also helped that my favorite author of another Kurt Cobain fanfiction on Wattpad, @/ugh-nirvana, had hits in the hundreds of thousands, so I was confident that my book would do well on that specific platform. On the other hand, the Stranger Things fandom is in full swing on Tumblr and ao3, so I chose to post those fanfictions on there rather than on Wattpad. It all just depends on who’s where.

You also have to consider how active you want to be on your platform(s). Tumblr is more of a blog situation, while ao3 and Wattpad are solely for publishing the work. If you want to have a life beyond the realms of the world wide web, choose Wattpad or ao3, as inconsistent updates are a bit more accepted than on Tumblr. But if you want to throw yourself headfirst into a fandom and put your whole author-ussy into your fanfic, then Tumblr is the platform for you.

You should be aware, however, that Tumblr involves a lot of upkeep, as well as constant, strategic, and active participation within your fandom. Visual aesthetic is vital to any functional Tumblr blog. Most profiles have directories, with color coded links to each work’s homepage, which is linked to each individual chapter, which are then distinguished by a unique GIF to capture a prospective reader’s attention while they’re scrolling through copious amounts of content. And there are always new ideas and theories in development in certain fandoms, so it’s crucial to keep up with recent updates in order to stay relevant.

After all is said and done, you don’t have to get married to one platform for the rest of your life. You can choose to be exclusive to one or two platforms, or publish everything on all of them! The decision is ultimately yours!

Step 4: Obey the Writer’s Trifecta of Consistency

Yes, I came up with this term, and yes, it should be a real thing. Because in every piece of writing, whether it be fanfiction, a short story, an actual book, a screenplay, what have you, it is critical to be consistent in your People, your POV, and your Plot. Let me explain.

People

Your people, or your ensemble of characters, consists of three hierarchical levels: your protagonist/antagonist, your side characters, and other background characters. I should emphasize the importance of building character profiles for everyone, including your pre-existing characters from the fandom, but specifically for your original character(s) if you have them. That way, you know who serves as a major plot device, who serves as someone who just helps time move faster, and those who are mentioned by name but have very little significance to the events of the story. I’m going to reference Harry Potter again, since most of the world is familiar with the characters. Harry and Voldemort are the protagonist and antagonist; Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid and company are side characters; and Peeves, Seamus Finnigan, and Blaise Zabini are background characters. Keep this hierarchy in check; don’t let your main characters fade away, and don’t let your background characters shift to the forefront for no reason. If you do plan to move a character up or down the ladder, make sure to have clear motive as to why you’re bringing this character into or out of play.

2. POV

Your POV is the point of view in which you’re writing from. Assuming you’ve been in a typical middle school English class, you’ve heard of the first, second, and third person points of view. I cannot tell you how many times I have read fanfictions that jump from one POV to another, sometimes within the same sentence. I open the door and see Kurt Cobain standing in the corner of the room. She walked across the floor to meet him there. See what I did there? I jumped from first person present tense to third person past tense. Do not attempt this at home.

The least common of the three points of view is the second person, or what I like to call the Y/N point of view. In fanfiction, second person POV is often used in self-insert fics, where instead of a character’s name, it’s replaced with “you.” That’s why a lot of romantic character x reader fics are so popular. You should feel free to use this one, especially if that’s the kind of vibe you’re going for, but I’m going to elaborate a little bit more on first and third person, as they’re a bit more “literary.”

The first person POV confines the narration to the mind of one character. It can also be done with multiple characters, but be sure to do it so it’s painstakingly obvious to the reader whose POV you’re writing from. Also note that if you plan to write multiple first person POVs, try to keep that number on the lower side, as a large number of POVs can get really complicated really quickly. Third person narration can be done from two angles: limited or omniscient. Limited is more similar to first person, in which you’re confined to one person’s viewpoint, but they aren’t the narrator; you’re just seeing the story through their eyes. Omniscient is my favorite, because you can narrate from a bird’s eye view with the freedom to travel from mind to mind and read their thoughts.

Building character profiles can be really helpful when developing both first or third person POV; if you connect with a particular character more strongly than the rest, that should tell you whose POV you should write in. If you choose to switch POVs, be sure to do it either on an alternating/rotating basis, or if you repeat, it should be apparent as to why that particular character is the “voice” of that scene.

3. Plot

Dare I say that Plot is the most important step of them all, so do not skip this one, whatever you do! The biggest mistake most fanfiction writers make is having a concept but lacking a plot. It’s like biting into an apple just to discover it’s a lemon. Many writers are capable of starting off strong, but once their initial story begins to meander, traveling into uncharted territory, their brainchild can become a monstrosity.

In order to write a solid plot, it’s pretty common knowledge that you need to have a beginning, middle, and end in place. It doesn’t need to be overly specific or down to the last detail, you just need to figure out how your characters make it from point A to point Z (the larger scale), and how points B through Y factor into the plot (the smaller scale). There are a few routes that you can take in order to do this: you can write the entire thing ahead of time without any input, you can write the entire thing with the feedback of a beta reader or proofreader to help you work out any kinks or mistakes before you publish it for the entire platform to see, or you can publish it gradually and take feedback from your readers as you go. Should you go with the last option, though, you should be made aware that if you aren’t already an established author, it may feel like you’re talking to a wall, and you will likely feel discouraged from writing the story altogether.

I find it helpful to outline the whole thing. I have a closet door in my house dedicated to a Dave Grohl true crime fanfiction I’m working on. I’ve written the entire story from beginning to end on index cards, split into four different parts with each card representing a chapter. What’s good about outlining is that I can edit my story as I go along. If I decide to change something, I can add or remove an index card, then replace or rearrange the other index cards to work around the change I made, and that way, I don’t have to start over from scratch. It’s helpful to see everything laid out in front of me, so I’m not left at the end of a completely improvised plot with a slew of loose ends that I’ll need to go back and edit. It’s also better than publishing each part individually then having to redo everything after your readers have already seen it. And I don’t know about you, but I enjoy it when I’m able to save some time, energy, and lengthy explanations to random people online. That is, unless you enjoy constant feedback from readers, in which case you can change the plot on a chapter by chapter basis based on their feedback.

Consistency in all of these respects is key. I cannot emphasize this enough. Keeping all of these elements in check will help you create a sort of cohesiveness that will neatly wrap the story up with a little bow on top.

Step 5: Use Relevant Tags and Content Warnings

Repeat after me: tags matter! Again: tags matter! When you’re about to publish your fanfiction, you’re going to be given the option to add tags to your work. For my first few years spent on Wattpad, I had no idea what tags were, so I didn’t use them. Thankfully, the platform was still pretty small, so people still found my work pretty easily. Nowadays, though, it’s nearly impossible to find what you’re looking for without searching excessively specific tags and using a million filters. It’s unfortunate, but look at it this way: there are so many people contributing to so many fandoms that the content is seemingly endless!

What you’re going to want to do is add as many tags as you can but keep it as simple as possible. I know that sounds kind of oxymoronic, but I mean it in a way that all of your tags relate directly to your story, and not just to the fandom itself. A lot of readers feel misled when they’re scrolling through their filtered search page for, let’s just say, a Byler fanfic, and end up neck deep in a Mileven fanfic in disguise. That’s not a fun experience.

Lastly, please remember that you are publishing your work on the internet, and you don’t know who may encounter your work! Listen, we live in a world where everything needs to be overexplained, everything needs trigger warnings, and everything needs to be neutral or else someone is going to hate you. I get it. I’ve been writing fanfiction for a long time. It might be annoying to add content warnings, especially if one of those warnings spoils a major plotline, but if I’m being honest, I’d rather be safe and add the damn warning than not add the warning and be responsible for someone’s worsened emotional or mental state. Bottom line, it’s just fanfiction! Let’s do our due diligence to create a community full of love and understanding for everyone!

After that, you should be all set to publish! Let’s review one more time for the road:

Choose Your Fandom

Do Your Research

Choose Your Platform

Obey the Writer’s Trifecta of Consistency

Use Relevant Tags and Content Warnings

If you’ve stuck around for this long, thank you so much!

I hope this manual helps you along your fanfiction writing journey, wherever it takes you <3

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #female writers #fanfiction #wattpad #ao3 #stranger things fic #byler fic #creative writing #ao3 writer

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iddybiddysquish · 8 months

Text

Fate - Chapter Seven

Masterlist

Plot Description: What would happen if someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder (multiple personalities; writer has DID themselves) got a god of death as another personality? Follows the plot of the anime and manga mixed including dialogue directly from the anime where appropriate. Character x cast of death note

Very minor self insert/OC that I've made into a vague reader insert that involves the reader being concerningly intertwined with Kira and his happenings against their will and seemingly against fate.

Fandom: Death Note

Gender: Female

Warnings: Dark and triggering content regarding death, suicide, mental illness and mentions of rape (character history - no rape in the story). Making out is described. Will add more as I progress the story.

Notes: Uploading early bitches! <3

Feedback is welcomed and I hope you have a good time reading!

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- December 28 -

Though I had slept through the remainder of yesterday as well as the entire night with limited wakefulness, I still managed to sleep in till the afternoon. In fact, despite the ample rest, when I realised my clock was still an hour ahead, I couldn’t even muster up the energy to groan, settling for a quiet, though heavy, sigh.

As I rose up I yelped lightly, feeling something stick in my thigh. As I felt for it, I frowned at my white notebook dangling on the edge of the bed. It was then I realised, as I picked up the perpetrator, that it was my pen and I had written something before I went to bed.

Though I was curious as to what, I concluded self care was more important and that I needed to eat something and wake up before looking at it.

‘Besides, I should prepare myself.’ I noted as I stood and stretched, ‘With a psychotic break such as yesterday, whatever I put is likely to be triggering…’

Baring that in mind, I spent the next few hours eating breakfast and snacks whilst watching some comfort TV. However, the more I started to almost ‘wake up’ from my dissociative daze, the more I struggled to just sit and relax.

‘It was so real…’ I frowned, ‘That man dying… I thought it was really happening…’

I gulped at the memory. Though it was iffy, I could still see him falling and the distinct way his face seemed to be frozen in place, in the same look he held as he died in my hands. I remember the police and I remember running as though it was for dear life.

‘I don’t remember anything else.’ I realised, ‘Just him, me and the police. I don’t remember even getting off the train. It was like I just teleported by his side…’ I shook my head, attempting to let go of the thoughts, but something niggled at me in a way I didn’t like.

Fed up, I gave in and fished for my book, turning the news on as I did. However, as I started to search for the page I had written in, I froze.

“-strikes again. As mentioned yesterday two more young men were added to the list of victims by the person of which we all refer to as Kira.” I blanked at those words. My mouth refused to be still as it opened and closed in shock. I must have looked like a fish, my gaze unwavering from the TV.

“Though one of the men remains unidentified, the other was clarified this morning to be Yonegoro Nusumi, a man who was recently acquitted from several rape charges, each from different women, due to a lack of evidence.” As soon as I saw the face of the man I had passed being wheeled away in a body bag, I felt sick.

‘It wasn’t a psychotic break…’ I shakily concluded, ‘Which means that Raye Penber did die. The FBI agent died.’ I bit my lip, shaking my head as I attempted to pull myself together so as to prevent another break down.

As though I were on a time constraint I snatched at the notebook I had kept and sped through the pages in search for my latest entry. I was desperate for answers and with the lack of details my memory was providing, I hoped to high hell that this entry held something of use, and not just a child-like recount of feelings or something else equally as useless to the case.

Trains are scary. I’ve been on trains a lot, but these trains are different. I haven’t been on a train at my age alone. Plus, everyone is dressed all fancy and look super serious. I don’t like serious, not like this.

I was about to skip ahead when I saw the next line, which was the only thing that kept my attention on this particular part of the writing.

There was one man that was particularly strange, though. He had a brief case just like my daddy, so I thought he was a contractor, just like daddy. But he had a weird phone-like thing in his pocket he kept talking into. First he talked into the thingy and said something about twelve people in teams of four. I don’t know who he was talking to, but because I saw the walkie talkie, then I thought he was a spy and thought he was super cool.

It’s rude to stare, so I didn’t look at him the whole time. But I did keep looking back.

After a few moments from his answer, he opened the envelope and there were lots of plain pieces of paper, though I only saw that when he put them on his lap. I thought maybe he has special contact lenses that lets him see special writing or something.

After a few moments he began to write something at the top and then he took out his laptop. From there, he looked quite shocked, which was surprising because he had been so calm since I saw him.

After a few moments, he began to write much more down, copying things from his laptop and covering every part of the pages. I wondered if it was a list of hitmen that he had to take down, or a list of people he had to save, and that he had an earpiece that his superior was talking to him through, which was why he kept pausing awkwardly before doing things. I then wondered if he was new and that this was one of his first missions!

I couldn’t help but wish him luck in my head.

He stopped doing things for a while, after putting the envelope up where the bags usually go just before we left the train, so I decided to look out the window and listen to my music. It was really fun because some of the clouds looked a bit like things I had seen before.

I skipped ahead, noting that I had started to write down all the animals and various things I was able to make out at that point in time.

‘Young me has an amazing memory…’ I observed before deadpanning, ‘I probably still would if I wasn’t so out of it constantly.’

It was time to get off the train, but there were lots of people, so I waited. Whilst I did, the spy man began to leave without his envelope. It confused me, and made me wonder if he had forgotten. I was about to tell him about it, but then I realised he must have been doing business with another spy! I thought it was so cool that it was happening to me!

But then the man fell over, outside the train. It took me a bit of time to realise he was in danger. I was taught CPR at school and by my friend, so I knew what to do to the man. I even shoved past someone in a grey and orange hoodie and black beanie hat without saying sorry, which I feel bad for.

But when I went to him he turned onto his tummy, which meant I couldn’t reach his chest. I tried to turn him over, but I was too weak. He kept stretching his hand out to the train, but when I looked up all I saw was the blur of the man I had bumped into and the train as it moved.

I immediately pushed on his chest. When I reached thirty, I blew air into his lungs whilst holding his nose closed. Then I saw his badge and I almost stopped pushing on his chest, because I was right! He was with the FBI!

It was then I realised he was the man on the bus who was nice to me when I was hurt! Which means he must definitely be a good man who is fighting the baddies like Kira!

I know that FBI agents are super important, especially with a killer like Kira on the loose. So I had to save him.

I think I did about three or four amounts of thirty presses altogether before the police came. I was getting sad and tired because the man wasn’t responding and I didn’t know why. Eventually the doctors came and said he had died.

I cried and cried and cried. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like a failure.

So I ran to Mono. Mono told me I did a good job when I told him what happened, but it didn’t make me feel better because the man was still dead.

I couldn’t save him. And now we’re all going to die because of Kira, because I used to steal things because Cornelius said it was okay.

I have to find Kira and bring him to justice! Not to just save other people, but to save the friends I created in my head. They didn’t ask to be put in my body, and they don’t deserve to die because of me and Cornelius liking bad things.

I blinked as I noted tears had begun to fall from my eyes and onto the last page. I wasn’t sure what part sealed the deal in the form of floods of tears, but I knew smol me, as I call her, was correct - they don’t deserve to die.

‘Kira won’t come after me because of what smol me said; I was never caught, never mind prosecuted.’ I bit my lip, ‘However, that FBI agent died, which only solidifies my theory that he was following Kira, given the method of death.’ I let out a shaky breath.

“If Kira finds out who I am, either through any information I give the police, or based on having been at two major events in relation to Kira, then I am at a huge risk…” After a few moments I had made my choice.

‘I’m already at risk for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, so I might as well continue as I am.’ I concluded, before asserting, ‘Because no one really deserves to die. Not like this.’ with a firm nod.

Quickly I got out an A4 piece of plain paper and began to scribble what I knew in three separate categories: bus and train before adding a line underneath them all, writing adjacent to them, the last category: conclusion.

I started with the first category, as I began to contemplate everything I had written in the notebook.

‘I now know that Raye Penber was most likely watching either Kira, a Kira suspect or someone related to Kira in one way or another.’ I declared, concluding, ‘Therefore it was likely that Kira wasn’t just on the train, but also on that bus…’

“But he didn’t kill that criminal-” I blinked, hand coming to my mouth as realisation coloured my understanding, “But he did die.” I frowned, looking down at my notebook sharply.

“Assuming Kira was the cause of his death, and therefore meaning Kira could decide the method of death,” I took a deep breath, “Kira deliberately chose him to die in an accident-like scenario…?

“Why not just kill him with a heart attack?” I frowned, jotting down my questions in the white notebook, which was acting as my scrap paper for workings out, before I could make semi-final conclusions onto the paper. I began to hesitate, unsure what I was missing, but sure I was onto something.

“Raye ended up dying on the train. Kira obviously either needed something from Raye-” I slapped myself, “That man! He gave a man his ID! That’s how I found out there was an FBI agent on the bus at all.” I immediately began to fidget, my leg tapping against the floor as the thoughts and understanding came in thick and fast.

“Which means that man presumably had his name, now along with his face.” I murmured, lying back against the sofa as I fiddled with a pen, “Was that man Kira, maybe?” I sat up, glaring at nothing in particular as I grew somewhat confused, hunching over as I rested my arms on my knee and my chin on my interconnected hands.

‘It’s possible that Kira wasn’t on the train, and killed him after giving himself some time to reduce the likelihood for anyone to pin the blame on him by not killing him as soon as he found out his name and face, as that would be notably suspicious.’ I mused, biting my tongue a few times before adding with a head tilt, ‘That, or he needed something from Raye, which means the opposite is true - that he was likely on the train.

‘After all, Raye was reaching out to someone as he died.’ I let out a puff of air as I jotted my rambles down, thinking as I went, ‘That could be coincidental - maybe he mistook them for someone he knew, or he was just reaching out in hope as he died. But it would also make sense that Kira was on that train, and that’s who he was reaching out to.’

“After all,” I tapped my pen’s end against my paper for a moment, “he left an envelope on the train. That’s quite weird, considering the walkie talkie - otherwise I would have just thought he had forgotten it…” I frowned, raising a brow before adding a question mark next to my writing, mumbling, “Unless that’s what he was told to do, for that very reason…?” I gave a humph and blew out some air before reclining back in my seat, staring up at my ceiling for a few moments.

“It’s a long shot,” I began out of the blue and not even sure where I, myself, was going, “but what if Kira had apprehended him? Blackmailed him into giving Kira whatever it was he wanted, and when he was done with him, killed him to remove any loose ends?” I hummed, tapping my lip.

“But what about the other man who died?” I blinked, looking around as I calibrated in my head whose voice that was as they continued, “Was that coincidental? That he was right there?” I relaxed as I noted it to be Amelia. I smiled, noting we hadn’t talked in a while, but listened diligently as she continued, “After all, Raye got on the exact same train as us, from the exact same station - didn’t he get on right before we did?” I hummed in agreement.

“Indeed, he did.” I confirmed as I considered her input with curiosity, “Going on your theory, it might even be possible that he killed the rapist in order to prove that he was Kira.”

“And from there, threatened him to go along with his wishes?” she hummed, “Maybe Kira gave him the envelope, as a means to get whatever it was he wanted from Raye without any trace, say as there would be through emails and the like.” I blinked, nodding slowly as I processed her words.

‘I hadn’t thought quite that ahead on that point,’ I conceded, ‘But she’s right.’

“Also,” she began again, bringing my attention back to her, my eyes darting towards the empty space she occupied in my mind, “If Kira was on the train, and was the man that Raye reached towards, then then you bumped into Kira as you left the train.” I gulped, cringing at the idea, before confirming her point aloud.

“In other words,” I began, “We know Kira is a man, taller than I by a fair amount, and likely owns a grey and orange hoodie and black beanie.”

Hearing no further ideas from ‘Mia, I immediately wrote out my findings, which, as I read over them, I felt satisfied.

~ Raye Penber was watching Kira, a Kira suspect or a suspect related to Kira

~ Raye was pointing towards the doors as he died; his killer?

~ I saw the same colours in the same arrangement when I looked back at the train doors as I did to the man I walked into.

~ This was who Raye was looking at

~ If so, Kira was on the train the whole time

~ I had touched Kira

~ If so, Kira had worn a grey and orange hoodie and black beanie. Hits is a man taller than 5' 5"

‘Short but blunt, just as they need to be.’ I approved, though looking back over them made me pause for a moment. I begin to contemplate Raye’s behaviour on the train, once again, with a deep frown. Almost instantly, I found myself flicking through the notebook for the millionth time before going back over and re-analysed the diary entry, scrutinising anything related to Raye’s actions.

‘Raye seemed as normal as I could possibly imagine, given I don’t know him personally.’ I mused, ‘But that being said, he only seemed to act on movements after long pauses.’ I stretched, body sore and aching as I attempted to bring blood supply back to my legs by standing. From there I found myself pacing slowly around my coffee table, messily but controlled as I let my legs move in an arc ahead of the other.

“After all, he came on with an envelope, of which he left on the train before leaving, and, on it, were scribbles that required him to pay attention to his laptop directly-’

“Maybe smol me was right.” I cursed, “There was two-way communication, which, undoubtedly, would require Kira to be nearby and, therefore, on that train.” I bit my lip, putting my hands in my pockets as my pace turned less silly and faster, “After all, Kira needed something from Raye; why else would he bother risking his cover being blown?’ I paused, falling onto the sofa with some heavy words.

‘Damn.’ I cursed again, ‘I should have grabbed that envelope…’

Pushing that useless thought aside, I grabbed my notebook and began to scribble my own ideas down, again, as I continued to speak aloud.

“All of that aside,” I stressed, bitterly, “the only thing that Raye mentioned was about other people, specifically twelve people in teams of four.” I raised a brow, “The only thing he could possibly be referring to, that would also interest Kira, are other agents, FBI or otherwise.” I leant back, a small smirk adorning my lips, “I would imagine that that might put a fire under your ass.

“After all, clearly one FBI agent was troubling enough; imagine having a whole gaggle of them interfering in your life? I don’t think he had any choice but to be so bold.” I laughed.

However, after a moment I paused mid-laugh, my features falling into a firm frown.

‘If Raye had this information, then maybe Kira knew he did and was using him to get to the other agents?’ I shook my head, ‘Why the hell would Raye have that information in the first place-’ I practically choked on my saliva as a possibility dawned on me, forcing my heart to skip a beat, ‘How did he find out that he was being followed by an FBI agent in the first place? Maybe he already knew there were other agents, just not enough details to kill-’ I cursed, loudly.

“He’s going to kill the twelve agents…” I shook my head, dragging my hand over my face as I gave a shaky breath, “Man, Kira is well informed.” I let my hands fall, my gaze becoming glued to my notebook as my eyes fell down from looking at the wall ahead of me. I gulped.

‘Either he’s got some access to police records, or has someone who is leaking it for him, because the FBI is about as secretive as it gets.’ I paused, frowning as I demurred, ‘Even if he was on the inside, somehow, even by proxy, surely the police would know… right?’ I groaned, head falling into my hands again as I took that notebook back into my hands and wrote my latest thoughts back into the book, adding my final questions to the conclusion section.

~ Raye acted weird on the train

~ Raye spoke into a receiver, mentioning ‘twelve people in teams of four’

~ Kira already knew about these people, but not enough to do anything about them - motive?

~ Raye must have also had some way to listen to the person on the other end of the receiver

~ Raye wrote something down before then copying something from his laptop.

~ Raye left the envelope, with the papers he was writing on and the receiver, on the train.

~ Raye died by heart attack

~ What happened to the envelope? Did Kira collect it after Raye left and died?

~ What did Kira want from Raye before he killed him? Something around other people, maybe other agents?

~ Kira needs names and a face to kill, if not also a birthdate and possibly blood type; what use would information on the agents be without any photographs? Could Raye be some sort of medium? Act as a proxy? Did Raye know this?

I couldn’t figure out anymore surrounding the train issues after that. In fact, I almost called it a day - but then I thought back to my earlier thoughts relating to the bus journey and how that criminal died, a heavy frown playing on my features.

‘Kira needed something from Raye, that much is obvious. But he needed something else before he could move to the step that involved the train station.’ my brows furrowed. Confused, I decided to stand and count out what I knew about the bus.

“There was an FBI agent on the bus.” I counted as one, adding a second finger for two as I took a few more steps, “That turned out to be Raye Penber.” I frowned, brain ticking as I slowly added a third finger and counted to three, “But Raye didn’t announce himself. He showed his ID to someone when they asked for proof that he wasn’t involved in the bus jacking-

“Oh my God was that Kira?” I gaped, “Did Kira plan the whole thing just to coax Raye’s name from him?!” I shook my head, “Surely that’s too much to achieve, even for Kira?”

“Why not?” I frowned, raising a brow to motion for her to continue her point, which she did.

“He was so bold on the train and that was only the second act; in order to get to that part, he had to do something in order to get the information he needed. How else would he be able to carry out his plan if he didn’t take chances and begin to explore his options?” I nodded along, humming as I bit my lip.

“‘Exploring’ is definitely the right word.” I echoed, “Because I’m not convinced even he understands the extent to which he is capable. Yet, anyway.” I gulped, adding into my notebook, ‘Kira is experimenting with his power, learning what he is and isn’t capable of. Will require a keener eye whilst looking into which deaths are potentially related.’

From there, I moved back over to the bus section, finishing it - for now, at least.

~ Raye Penber was the FBI agent on the bus

~ He showed his ID to someone on that bus, and it was a man.

~ Kira was on the bus.

~ Was the ‘man’ Kira? How else would Kira have gotten Raye’s identity?

~ He needed Raye’s name at the very least to kill him on the train.

~ FBI ID would, at best, have the name and face. Meaning that Kira doesn't need anything more than a name and face to kill

I began to add, on a separate string of thought, back in the white notebook, underneath what I had just written about Kira’s experimental killings:

~ Kiichiro Osoreda hijacked the bus, had a hallucination that made him run out of the bus and was then hit by a car and killed.

~ Kira knew this was going to happen, using it to aid him in getting Raye’s identity.

~ This means Kiichiro Osoreda knew Kira and planned the attack with him, or, alternatively, Kira had some form of control over Kiichiro Osoreda that forced him to do what Kira had planned.

~ From there, Kiichiro Osoreda’s mode of death: accident, was chosen.

~ Therefore, Kira can choose not just who dies, but how and possibly when.

At that point I was spent. My brain felt like mush and I knew I wasn’t getting any more out of it for at least the rest of the day.

Pushing all thoughts of Kira out of the window, I concentrated on things I needed to get done besides this and, then, anything I wanted to do for fun. Studying, of course, was included in the things I needed to do, along with uploading a new song on my Youtube, in order to continue to generate income. From there, however, I was free to do as I pleased. So I went onto draw and write whilst listening to TV and eating some instant noodles.

A simple but pleasant evening to a mentally strainful day.

‘Exactly what I needed.’

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