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thelikesoffinn · 2 years ago

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„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 #astarion #the dark urge #tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #bg3 act 1 #bg3 act 2 #bg3 act 3 #act 3 #act 2 #act 1 #araj oblodra

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thorough-witness-enjoyer · 7 days ago

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The contrast between the Conductor’s reaction to the Collapse and Lodi’s reaction to it continues Destiny’s focus on how to overcome monumental grief in a manner that creates a brighter future. It has already said so much without really saying anything explicitly. (Grief inspired ramblings incoming)

There aren’t enough words to describe how much ruin the Witness has brought to the universe, let alone Sol during its Collapse. There is no recovering what was lost when it unleashed absolute hell onto the solar system, the effects of which the people in-universe will be feeling for who knows how long. It was an act most vile and the sorrow felt by those affected is unimaginable.

However, just because the Golden Age stolen from Sol cannot be recovered, doesn’t mean that the residents of Sol have no future, and I strongly believe that in Edge of Fate both Maya and Lodi are used to show how different people react to that prospect.

Maya directly experienced the Collapse and it took everything from her. Not only the world as she knew it and the fruits of her scientific pursuits, but the life she wanted to live with Chioma.

This grief eats away at Maya like a festering rot and it drives the Conductor to rash, inconsiderate actions because the present as-it-is has no value to her compared to the past as-it-was.

Her involvement with the Nine and the vex is all part of an attempt to use time to bring the Golden Age forward and the City Age with its guardians to the Collapse. At first consideration, there is clearly an ethical and logistical issue here, but I’m going to focus on her intentions to recover.

Maya can’t stop looking back because she cannot see any way forward for humanity in the state she’s in. Her pain is held onto so tightly and she refuses to accept anything that isn’t her “perfect moment” before her life with Chioma was taken from her by the Witness; it makes her blind to just how fortunate humanity is to have anything at all and that by defeating the Witness with our allies, we have the rare possibility to become more than we ever were.

The Conductor diminishes the value of present lives and people, comparing them to lead against the golden humans centuries ago, not entirely from internal bias for a technological age, but from grief.

There is no future she could ever imagine that would fulfill her like her past with Chioma. No matter how far humanity comes, no matter how much we progress, it’ll be nothing because she won’t have her Chioma.

Grief refuses to allow you to let go by keeping idealize memories at the forefront of your head. To grief, there is nothing quite like the past and there will never be anything more valuable than what you once had. The world and more is a fair price to pay for a chance to revisit the moment time is rapidly racing away from because grief is all about hindsight.

There is safety in memories, in an unmoving mental state you can return to time and time again when time and it’s cruelty is shifting under your feet like sand pulled by waves. Grief stings, but it is also sweet in its stagnancy; sweet enough for you to mindless indulge as it hardens around you like an amber prison.

We’ve learned from the last saga that darkness is related to memory retention, for better or for worse, and Maya’s interaction with the Veil has clearly left an impression on her. An obsession and commitment to memories can trap us in our pain, preventing us from growing and forgiving as we fear more suffering coming from the hard work needed to overcome our grief.

By dwelling on what she no longer has, by imprisoning herself in the Golden Age where her life is as perfect as her mind makes it, she’s blinding herself to what she has now.

And what she has now is considerably more than what Te’Qal in her echo was left with.

Humanity can rebuild itself. With the persistence and hope we’ve held onto since the Collapse, dreams held within innovation can be ours once more, this time with security from knives whetted over eons.

There is no hope for the Qugu. There is no future for Seht. There will never be dreams or safety for the countless who have been eradicated by the Witness and its forces.

What is lead to Maya would be gold for the Qugu.

Grief is telling Maya that there is nothing more valuable than what she once had, but she fails to realize that what she has now is beyond miraculous and worthy of the utmost devotion.

Devotion that Lodi has shown an interest in committing too.

Here we have a man ripped from all he has ever loved and informed that everything he could have ever loved was smoldered between thousands of fingertips, but instead of turning around and using his voice to beg for the past to return to him, he’s using his voice to speak of what can be learned from the past to better humanity’s current state.

He’s certainly grieving and the pain he’s feeling about his life all the way back in the 20th century will never be an easy thing to deal with, but he refuses to let being a slave to the past hold him back from being an asset to the future.

This line after he lists things he remembers from his life is incredibly profound, yet so simple. Remembering the past is not about preserving it exactly how it was, but taking it with you as time pushes you forward and letting it adapt with the reality you are faced with.

Lodi uses his knowledge as both a person from an age long gone and as a linguist to pass on his knowledge to City Age humans, hoping we will be able to teach it to others and build off of it. He thinks of the hundreds of cities, billions of people, thousands of cultures, and he says “we can have beyond that if we start working towards that”.

Dancing salsa and making ceviche is not what Maya thinks of when she thinks of what made humanity great, but it’s things like dancing salsa and making ceviche that makes humanity humanity. They have value because they meant something in the past and they can mean something again because Lodi has the courage to teach it to us.

Furthermore, he’s appreciative of what humanity still has in its current state and wants to learn from us, combining our knowledge to form a deeper, greater understanding than what we had previously.

Love is a wonderfully terrible thing that requires from us more than what we have. It’s changing, it’s grievous, it’s hard work. It requires us to let go, to love more than just the object of our affection. Love in memory is sweet and only asks what we have to give.

Maya loves Chioma, but to properly love her, she must let go. She must love humanity and its Sol system as Chioma sought to understand and explore it, even if it is a bitter reminder of everything she has lost.

Lodi loves his family, he always speaks about them and their influence on him; thus, he loves humanity and is willing to sacrifice his autonomy to protect it, even as memories of Ben and his parents torment him at night.

There’s a hand-weaved basket in my house that will forever remain unfinished. The practice of it has been forgotten in my family as there is no one left to teach it. I’ve sat where the weaver used to sit every day and used every ounce of my being to bring the memory of them to me, but as much as I thought day after day “they are still here. They just came inside with pieces of palm and they are in front of me making a new basket like they always have. They just asked if I prefer the stripped ribbon or the plain blue one. They asked if I think they could go shopping with it.” I cannot make it true.

What I can do is go back to their home and ask someone to teach me. I can find someone who keeps the practice alive and learn from them. I can teach it to someone else once I am proficient enough and hope that they may continue to pass it on to those who have yet to come.

I’m not going to dig my feet in the ground and keep looking back at the weaver at the table. I’ll never forget them and I’ll never stop missing how their own hands used to work meticulously at that table, but I refuse to let grief blind me to the fact that I have my own hands and a life of basket weaving ahead of me.

I’ll learn to weave as best as I can. I’ll weave things my weaver could have only imagined and I’ll make the real future better than any idealized past.

It would be so much easier to just have them back here with me, weaving like they always have. I wouldn’t have to worry of all the failed baskets I’m sure I’ll make, of all the waves of grief that’ll come crashing down on my grip. I wouldn’t have to worry if I’ll ever weave as good as they did or if the type of weaving our small island does will survive the coming decades. It would be so much easier to live in that perfect when rather than face the flawed now.

But I’ve let go of hoping that they’ll somehow come back because waiting for them to come strip the palms keeps me from appreciating how much their bark has grown back since my weaver’s been gone and using it to make a basket for my younger family member.

I love my weaver, always will, and thus I love their home, their legacy, their art, even when it leaves me raw and screaming.

Basket weaving and speaking Welsh might be dead just like Earth once was after the Collapse, but we can always rebuild them by promising to keep looking forward no matter how hard it is. We can chose to be Lodi, even when it is so tempting to remain as Maya is. The Last City of Earth can become the First City and we can grieve those before us all while cherishing those alongside us.

Lodi means a lot to me. He really does.

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny the game #d2 #the witness #destiny witness #maya sundaresh #chioma esi #chioma destiny #maya destiny #lodi destiny 2 #lodi #te’qal #te’qal destiny #destiny qugu #the edge of fate #edge of fate #lore is from The Immanent lore book and man oh man did that destroy me #even the chapter names had me in tears #pls ignore typos #love how in this saga everything is still the witness’ fault omg fuckkkkkkk ittttttttt #glad to see destiny has still kept that destiny flavored grief even in a new saga #I could talk more about this but I think I might just blow up in tears #Lodi ily please know that #Maya we will get you the help you need and teach you about letting go #I have hope for you Maya even if you are kind of pissing me off #hell hath no fury like a grieving lesbian #hope all Maya fans are having a good day #AND TE’QAL OMG MY TE’QALLLLLLLLLL #also if Lodi knows kwéyòl I’ll marry him

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santaasi · 8 months ago

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story of my life

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: what are you willing to do for the love of your life?

warnings: !major spoiler for obx4 final!, angst, establish relationship, nearly death experience, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language

word count: 2.8k

a/n: requested by this ask. i still haven't found the strength to watch s4, but i like to write about it. you know, after all this emotionally difficult month, all your requests help me not to go crazy. so thank you very much.

ᯓ★ now playing...

one direction - story of my life

YOU HAD ALWAYS LOVED LIFE. Even through all the chaos and heartbreak, you clung to it with fierce devotion, treasuring every moment. Your greatest dream wasn’t wealth or fame — it was to live boldly, to see the world in vivid color, to grow old with stories of wild adventures alongside the Pogues, the family you had found and held so dear. They were your anchor, your everything.

But life, for all its beauty, has taught you a bitter truth: it isn’t always fair. More often than not, it is harsh and unrelenting, a storm that leaves you scrambling for shelter. You’d learned to accept that, to carry on, to find joy even in the darkest corners. And you did, always.

What you never prepared for — what you could never imagine — was just how cruel it could truly be.

You weren’t ready for the knife. You weren’t ready for the split-second decision, the instinct that drove you to shield him, to put yourself in harm’s way without hesitation. All you cared about at that moment was that JJ would be safe. And he was.

But you?

No amount of planning or foresight could have prepared you for this — the searing pain, the hot Moroccan sand beneath you, and the endless blue sky above, eerily reminiscent of home. You’d spent your life navigating every twist and turn, surviving every trial fate threw at you, but now your strength ebbed away with every heartbeat.

Life really was cruel.

You and the Pogues had always known that, enduring its relentless trials together, earning your scars the hard way. But this? This was different. This was a cruelty you’d never known — a cruelty you couldn’t accept.

It wasn’t the dying that broke you, even though your dream of growing old with stories to tell burned brightly in your chest until the very end. Death itself wasn’t what hurt most. You had danced with it so many times before, always escaping, always one step ahead.

No, what shattered you was the sight of JJ Maybank, the boy who had stolen your heart and become your everything, cradling you as life slipped through your fingers. His tears fell like rain, his voice hoarse from screaming for help that wouldn’t come. His hands trembled, desperately trying to hold you together, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to defy the inevitable.

That was the real cruelty. Watching his world break as yours faded.

But now, as you stared up at the endless blue sky, its hue so much like his eyes and the tranquil ocean, it didn’t seem so cruel after all. Dying to save the person you loved most — it wasn’t a punishment. It was a gift, wasn’t it? To offer your life for the one who taught you how to love — that was a blessing.

A soft smile touched your lips as you reached out a trembling hand to his face, your fingers brushing his cheek, catching the tears that fell like rivers. His pain was unbearable to witness, but the warmth of his skin under your touch grounded you, even as the world slipped further away.

“Jay,” you whispered, your voice thin and fractured, each word scraped from a well of pain you refused to show him. You had always been strong — for the Pogues, for him. You couldn’t stop now. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He froze, his frantic movements stilling for a moment as your words cut through his panic. You swallowed hard, pushing down the agony clawing at your chest, determined to ease the fear in his eyes, if only a little.

“The luck had to run out eventually,” you continued, a faint chuckle escaping despite the weight crushing your lungs. “And, honestly? Dying in the arms of my first and only love… That’s pretty romantic, don’t you think? I’m like the main character in one of those cheesy teen dramas you hate so much.”

The effort of your laugh sent a sharp jolt of pain through your body, pulling a wet cough from your lips. The metallic tang of blood filled your mouth, and your chest burned with the force of it. You tried to hide it, but JJ saw — of course, he saw.

His face crumpled, and the desperation in his voice pierced through you like the knife had. “No. No. No. You’re not dying. I won’t let you die.”

His hands trembled as he held you, his grip firm yet unbearably gentle, as if afraid you’d slip away entirely if he let go. He rocked you slightly, his movements uneven and frantic, his voice cracking as he screamed for help, calling out for the others, begging the universe to give him just one more miracle.

“You can’t leave me,” he choked out, his words tumbling over one another in a broken, frantic rush. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, you hear me? I’ll pester you until you’re old and gray. Forever. That’s the deal, remember?”

His words wavered, drenched in panic and pain, as if sheer determination alone could defy the inevitable. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that he’d be okay, that you didn’t regret a single thing. But the truth was, seeing him like this — the boy who was your whole world shattered and breaking — hurt more than the knife ever could.

A soft, broken laugh escaped your lips, each tremor in your chest sending ripples of pain through your body. Breathing felt like trying to hold onto smoke — fleeting and agonizing. Why did it have to hurt so much? You drew a shallow, shaky breath, your hand brushing over JJ’s tear-streaked cheek. He clung to you like you were the only solid thing left in his crumbling world, his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted with anguish.

Even now, even like this, he was beautiful. It wasn’t fair.

You’d thought it a hundred times before, over the years spent by his side. No matter the situation, no matter how disheveled or broken, JJ Maybank always carried a beauty that was effortless and infuriating. He was a contradiction — a masterpiece painted in chaos — and you could never look at him without being reminded of how deeply, unfairly he had your heart.

You had seen him in every state imaginable: bloodied and bruised, grinning through the pain, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, or asleep under the stars with his face softened by peace he rarely found. Even in his worst moments, when life dragged him down to its cruelest depths, he was breathtaking. You used to joke that Aphrodite herself must have crafted him, a cruel trick of divine perfection meant to mock you.

But it wasn’t a joke now, lying here in his arms. Because you knew you’d never see the life you’d imagined with him.

You’d thought about it more times than you could admit: the way his children would carry his same irresistible charm, the way his hair might gray but his smile would never lose its boyish mischief, the way you’d both grow old together, teasing and bickering like you always did. But none of that would happen now.

You wouldn’t be there to see it.

You wouldn’t see the Pogues again, wouldn’t see John B and Sarah raising a family, wouldn’t wake up in JJ’s arms to greet the sunrise and talk about life like it was endless. All those dreams, those plans — they were dissolving, fading into the hot Moroccan sand beneath you, slipping from your grasp like water through trembling fingers.

But at least you’d die saving him.

JJ’s voice cracked, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts. “We should have stayed... I should have listened to you... I...” He repeated the words in a frantic, looping mantra, his tone raw with regret, his breath hitching as though saying it enough times could rewrite the moment. As though this were some nightmare he could will himself to wake from.

And maybe it would have been a dream — a bad one — if they’d all just listened to you. If they hadn’t chased after the crown, if they’d let greed and desperation go. Maybe you’d be lying in the chateau right now, the sunlight warming your skin, talking about tomorrow with hope instead of fear.

But life didn’t work like that.

You knew this outcome was inevitable. You’d known something was off, a shadow lurking on the edge of this adventure. You’d felt it in your bones. But even so, you couldn’t walk away. You couldn’t leave your family behind.

Because they wouldn’t have made it without you.

You were the glue that held them together, the one who kept the chaos from consuming them all. You cooked when they forgot to eat, bandaged wounds when they refused to stop, made plans when they leapt without looking. You were the mother, the voice of reason, the protector. You carried their burdens as if they were your own, no matter how heavy they became.

And you’d never leave them in trouble. Even if it meant leaving the world behind.

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault,” you murmured, your voice trembling but steady enough to cut through his despair. With a shaky hand, you wiped the tears from his face, your fingers brushing against the salt trails on his skin. “I couldn’t leave you. I couldn’t... leave you alone.”

“But that’s what you’re doing now!” JJ cried, his voice cracking like a child’s. A loud, broken sob tore from his lips as he pulled you closer, holding you as if sheer force could tether you to him. The raw pain in his eyes shattered you more than the knife ever could. “You’re leaving me! It should’ve been me! Why— why did you take it all on yourself?”

“JJ...” you whispered, your fingers threading weakly through his hair, softer than you’d ever imagined. The sunlight kissed the golden strands, turning him into something otherworldly — a fragile angel, aching and broken. Your vision blurred, the world dissolving into a haze, but you clung to him, fighting to stay present. For him.

“I did it because you have to live,” you said softly, your voice cracking under the weight of your words. “Because you deserve to live. You deserve a happy ending.”

Your breath hitched, and a cough wracked your body, leaving a metallic tang on your lips. A thin stream of blood trickled from the corner of your mouth, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on him. On the boy you loved more than life itself.

“You deserve a happy life more than anyone, JJ,” you continued, the words fragile but unyielding. “You have to go on your adventures, see the world, make your dreams come true... I...” You paused, gathering the last fragments of your strength. “At home, under my bed, there’s a box. It has the money left from El Dorado...”

A faint, bittersweet smile touched your lips as the truth of it all washed over you like the tide. Every decision, every moment over the last few months had led to this. Saving that money, denying yourself fleeting indulgences — it had all been for this. Deep down, maybe you’d known. Maybe you’d felt it all along, the shadow of inevitability hanging over you.

From the very beginning, when the crown became a glimmering temptation, you’d sensed it. Something about it felt wrong, like a weight in your chest that wouldn’t ease. You hadn’t wanted to go — you’d begged them to stay, to stop chasing after danger and live, just live. But they wouldn’t have listened, not even to you.

And so you’d gone. Because they needed you.

The irony struck you now, sharp and bitter, and you almost laughed. All you’d wanted was a simple life — a reprieve from the constant running, the relentless searching, the near brushes with death. You’d only wanted one quiet moment to breathe.

But life had never let you stop.

“Take the money,” you whispered, your voice thin but insistent. “Leave. Start over. Find your happiness, JJ. Live... for me.”

Your fingers lingered on his cheek, memorizing the warmth of him, the boy who had been your whole world. The tears falling from his eyes pooled at the edges of your smile.

Even as the edges of the world began to fade, you clung to one truth: you would give everything for him. And you had.

“Don’t you dare do that,” JJ choked out, shaking his head as if denying the reality before him could rewrite it. His trembling hand brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead, the tenderness in his touch breaking your heart anew. “Don’t you dare say goodbye,” he sobbed, pressing a desperate kiss to your head. His arms rocked you gently, cradling you as though the rhythm alone could anchor you to him. “We’ll do it all together, you hear me? We’ll start over. We’ll visit every corner of this damn world. We’ll grow old together... I won’t — I can’t let you leave me like this.”

You tried to answer, but your body betrayed you. It was slipping further out of your control, growing lighter, weightless, like a feather carried off by the wind. Still, you smiled — soft, faint, but filled with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

Your eyes fluttered shut, the pull of oblivion so strong, but you forced them open again. Over and over, you fought against it, clinging to the fragile thread of life. Not for yourself — for him. For the dreams you had spun together in quiet moments, the ones you had whispered into the dark when the world felt too heavy.

You thought of those dreams now, pulling them close like a lifeline.

You’d planned it all, written it down in the little diary you kept hidden away since you were a child. Its pages were filled with messy sketches of hearts and scrawled dreams, and in so many of them was his name — your best friend, your everything. Back then, you were too shy to confess your feelings, too scared of what losing him might mean. But that little girl, the one who poured her heart onto those pages, would be over the moon now. She’d never believe JJ Maybank had become hers.

How many times had you imagined the life you’d build together? Leaving Kildare behind, hand in hand, to find new adventures in the wide, open world. Finding that perfect spot by the sea — a place that felt like home. Slowly, brick by brick, you’d build a new life together, one where all the scars and broken pieces of your pasts didn’t matter anymore.

You could almost see it. The day JJ would propose.

He’d plan it for weeks, determined to make it perfect, pouring over every cliché from the romantic comedies you adored. He’d rehearse speeches in secret, dragging John B and Pope into his schemes, pestering them to help him nail every detail. And yet, on the day itself, when he finally saw you, everything he’d practiced would vanish.

He’d forget the rehearsed words, the plans, everything but you.

JJ would drop to one knee, his hands shaking as he pulled out a small, worn ring — the one he’d kept hidden for years, a precious piece of his mother’s legacy. He’d hold it out to you, his voice cracking as he whispered the only words that mattered: Be mine. Forever.

And you would be. You’d take his hand, slip on that ring, and promise him everything. You’d become the happiest girl in the world, every piece of your soul woven into his.

Forever.

But now, forever felt impossibly far away.

“I love you, JJ Maybank,” you whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of a lifetime. Your gaze lingered on his sea-blue eyes, anchoring yourself in their depth, memorizing every detail — the way they shimmered like sunlight on water, the way they always felt like home.

“You’ve become my dream.”

The words left your lips like a prayer, soft and eternal. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with the pull of exhaustion, and slowly, they closed. Darkness crept in, warm and quiet, wrapping around you like JJ’s arms — steady, protective, safe. If this was death, it wasn’t cruel. It was peace. And if this was how it felt to go, you thought, then you would gladly endure it a thousand times over just to feel him near.

But as the silence deepened and the void seemed to pull you further away, a voice rose above it — a sound so strong, so certain, it cut through the emptiness like a lifeline.

“I won’t leave you. Never.”

His voice was raw, desperate, but unshakably firm, as if willing the universe to bend to his promise.

And you believed him.

You fell, your body surrendering to the weightlessness, but the thought of him grounded you. You held on to his words, letting them guide you like a beacon through the dark.

Even as the void swallowed you whole, there was a certainty buried deep within your heart.

When you opened your eyes again, you knew he would be there.

thankx for reading <3

I love one direction. I love jj maybank. and I love this fic. but I don't like killing characters. I can't write about death after Liam and JJ's death, it's very hard for me, so I decided to leave the ending kinda open? for me, the reader is still alive, but if you like dramatic endings, then you can end the story on the death of the reader.

and as usual, you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x fem!reader #obx x you #obx #obx x reader

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rennalaqotfm · 11 months ago

Text

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART III)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Violence, blood and injury, mentions of death, alcohol consumption, angst, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

Dialogue in italics is High Valyrian.

WC: 5.4k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon had always prided himself on being a capable fighter. Although Jacaerys' strength primarily lay in politics, he never let his swordsmanship fall behind. In fact, Ser Harwin Strong, the captain of the City Watch, and as many whispered, his real father, had taught him everything about the art of yielding a sword. From the correct way of unsheathing the blade to keeping his knees slightly bent so he wouldn't stagger as easily. He still recalled how at the tender age of six, Ser Harwin kneeled to his level as he placed his heavy arm on his shoulder.

'A sword is but a tool. Its true power lies within the one who yields it. Visualise your desired outcome, and your blade will follow.'

Ser Criston Cole, however, had no patience for his idealised notions of battle. While Ser Harwin had taught Jacaerys the foundations of swordsmanship, it was Ser Criston who introduced him to the unforgiving truth of a real battle, proving that sparring with a straw dummy wasn't useful beyond the training grounds.

'When steel is drawn, a fair fight isn't something anyone should expect.'

He still bitterly remembered how Ser Criston had him spar against his uncle Aegon. Anyone who watched that scene would've thought it wasn't a fair battle. Aegon was already four-and-ten, much taller and stronger than he was. Jacaerys still remembered how Aegon's strikes had come faster and harder than anything he had faced before, especially the kick to his stomach that sent him flying to the ground with a thud, and yet, Aegon didn't cease delivering blow after blow with brute force.

'Is this what you teach, Cole? Cruelty to the weaker opponent?'

The sting of defeat, the bruises that lingered for days, and the humiliation of being bested in front of others, particularly his grandsire Viserys, were all part of Ser Criston's lesson. And in that moment, Jacaerys came to realise that cruelty might be something he didn't possess.

Now there was no excuse. It wasn't going to be an unfair battle since Prince Elyas Martell was but a year older than him, and couldn't have trained any differently. However, Jacaerys had never killed a man with his own hands. Yes, he had led men into battle, but taking someone's life with his sword was something he had yet to experience. There was no doubt that killing was nothing more than just a mundane task for Elyas. Those Dornishmen seemed to take pleasure in the most outlandish ways, which made him question how strong of a warrior Prince Elyas was to defeat such great lords.

Then he recalled the story Addam of Hull had told them in Dragonstone, how the reason why Princess Y/n remained unwed was because his suitors had met the common fate of death. As much as he didn't want to believe those rumours, he had bitterly grown to accept that all those tales about the Dornishmen were nothing but true.

The young prince frowned as he took in the arid, unforgiving weather. It would've been foolish to wear his full armour for the trial; the extreme heat would likely cause him to collapse before he even reached the arena. He sported nothing more than a Targaryen breastplate on top of a linen tunic, and his breeches. He considered sporting his gauntlets, but the sweat of his hands would affect the grip on his sword. Even with just the breastplate, he already felt how beads of sweat rolled down his back.

Jacaerys had been so fixated on winning the trial that he barely had any time to process his betrothal with Princess Y/n. He wondered if all of her suitors even wished for power, or mayhaps they were simply entranced by her beauty. Despite her attitude, there was something enticing about the Princess he couldn't bring himself to deny. But what was he going to do if behind that beauty lay nothing but different ideals and hostility? What would the rest of the houses think upon finding out about their alliance with House Martell? How would the two of them rule the whole realm if the Princess put Dorne's interests before the rest of Westeros?

Not to mention, even if he emerged victorious from the trial, he doubted Princess Y/n would be too pleased if her brother's life was the price. The thought gnawed at him as he fastened his boots. But what if he were the one to fall? He couldn't even begin to imagine the devastation it would bring to his mother, and the mere thought of her grief twisted his stomach. Daemon had offered to fight in his place, a suggestion his mother had eagerly supported. Yet, Jacaerys had refused, knowing that the Princess would never consider his proposal if he didn't prove his own worth in the arena. To win her hand without facing the trial himself would be dishonourable.

No matter what he did, all odds were against him.

"It's time," one of the guards spoke behind the door.

One guard led the way, as the other trailed behind him, with his spear in hand, ready to attack if the Prince even attempted to do anything. They walked through the labyrinthine halls of the Old Palace, adorned with pillars and chandeliers, lighting up the place as the blinding rays of sunshine met with the golden decorations.

They stepped into the flourishing gardens leading to the arena, where Rhaenyra and Daemon awaited his arrival. He could hear his mother's voice as they spoke in High Valyrian, unaware of his presence.

"I have lost too many children, Daemon. The thought of losing Jace—" Rhaenyra's voice faltered, her lip quivering as she fought to swallow the rising lump in her throat.

"Elyas would be a fool to slay the Crown Prince," Daemon mumbled.

"You, above all, should know what these people are capable of."

"But killing the future king of the realm is a line they would not dare cross."

"And yet, must the price we pay for this war be our children?" Rhaenyra's voice broke.

"I was not aware how my death would be such an interesting thing to discuss," Jacaerys muttered bitterly.

"Jace," Rhaenyra turned to face her son, cupping his cheek. "For the last time, you do not have to do this—"

Jacaerys swatted his mother's hand off, his eyes full of contempt.

"You have no right to act concerned, Mother. You pushed forward with this, knowing the risks, knowing that I might pay with my life. Whatever fate awaits me in this trial... if I die, my blood is in your hands. But at least I will have done my duty."

Before Rhaenyra could say anything else to her son, the guards urged him to move forward.

With a heavy heart, Jacaerys turned to face her mother one last time, but she was nowhere to be seen as they most likely had been taken to the gallery. Before the guards pushed the double doors they exchanged a look of pity, clearing a path for him. That didn't go unnoticed by the Prince, and it only added to the river of negative emotions he had been drowning in since they arrived.

As Jacaerys stepped through the double doors, the world around him was suddenly swallowed by darkness, with only a narrow beam of light from the distant end of the tunnel. The corridor stretched before him, its walls echoing with the muffled sounds of the world above. He could hear the creak of wooden beams straining under the weight of footsteps, making him wonder how many eyes might be waiting for him outside. The air was cool and heavy, carrying with it the scent of the arena's sands, yet the usual roar of a crowd was eerily absent.

Jacaerys took a deep breath before stepping into the arena. The sun was almost blinding, leaving him momentarily disoriented. Feeling like a caged animal, he scanned his surroundings, shielding his eyes with his hand. To his surprise, there weren't many spectators; he could only make out the members of the Martell council. Then, his eyes quickly found his mother, whose face was etched with deep concern and regret. Nearby, Daemon, unable to sit still, attempted to calm his nerves with a cup of wine. Not very far from where the council sat, there were three empty seats in the royal box, where Prince Qoren took his seat, with Farien on his lap. Jacaerys grew confused as he saw Prince Elyas take a seat next to his father, leaving one empty. Was he not going to fight for his sister? Mayhaps the Princess' champion was her sworn protector.

A few moments had passed, yet the Princess was nowhere to be seen. Jacaerys' mind raced with doubts. Was she not going to attend the trial she herself had proposed?

Suddenly, the double doors opposite him began to open and the Martells began to cheer. Prince Qoren wrapped his arm around Farien, who couldn't stop clapping as he bounced on his father's lap. Elyas signalled one of the servants to bring him a cup of wine, as he leaned back on his seat and looked at Jacaerys with a sneer.

His eyes widened in shock as the figure emerging from the other side of the arena wasn't one of the twins either.

It was Princess Y/n herself.

The Princess strode toward the centre of the arena, the sun-kissed amber fabric of her dress flowing like a whisper with each step. The high slits on either side of the skirt fluttered and snapped, revealing glimpses of her legs as she moved. With a fluid motion, Princess Y/n unsheathed the two golden daggers holstered on her thighs, playfully twirling them around her fingers.

"Princess Y/n Martell, the Dancing Serpent of Dorne, and Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, the Crown Prince. Let the trial commence," Ser Domeric Uller announced, earning another wave of applause from the Martells.

Dancing Serpent of Dorne?

Jacaerys took an instinctive step back, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. Two guards blocked the door with their spears, leaving no chance of escape. In the glaring sunlight, Princess Y/n appeared like an oasis amid the dunes, her bronze skin glowing with an ethereal radiance, akin to that of a deity. She moved with the lethal agility of a serpent, her eyes locked onto him, calculating, and ready to strike. A storm of doubts began to cloud Jacaerys. What was he supposed to do? Kill her? Maim her?

He suddenly heard Ser Criston Cole's voice echoing in the back of his mind.

'Blades up. Engage.'

As if guided by pure instinct, the Prince unsheathed his sword, the sharp silver catching and reflecting a ray of sunlight. He quickly assumed a defensive stance, his eyes fixed onto the Princess. If he kept his distance, he should have the advantage over her. He lunged, aiming not for a lethal blow, but to knock the Princess off her feet, hard enough to force her to yield.

He was not there to shed blood.

The Princess easily dodged his attack as his blade slashed the air, and he quickly withdrew to his defensive stance. They began circling each other, eyes locked, neither daring to look away.

A bead of sweat trickled down Jacaerys' temple, his heart pounding as he watched Y/n assume a low, unfamiliar stance. She held both of her daggers up, poised like a serpent's fangs as she moved with languid grace, inching closer to him, almost hypnotically.

Before he could fully register the movement, a sharp pain sliced through his arm. Jacaerys hissed as Y/n's blade carved a deep gash, warm blood seeping through his white tunic and dripping onto the sand. He clenched his jaw, forcing the searing pain to the back of his mind, determined to ignore the Martells' cheers echoing around the arena. At least the arm wielding his sword was still intact.

The dance between the dragon and the serpent continued. Y/n darted forward, her twin daggers a blur as she unleashed a relentless flurry of slashes. Jacaerys struggled to block, each clash of steel sending vibrations up his injured arm. As she pressed her assault, he caught a glimpse of something feral in her eyes, a familiar look he knew all too well: bloodlust.

Growing weary of her relentless attacks, he sidestepped one of her strikes and delivered a swift, powerful kick to her side. The sheer force sent the Princess onto the sand with a grunt, one of her daggers slipping from her grasp.

Seizing the moment, Jacaerys lifted his blade to force her to surrender. But before he could strike, the Princess rolled to the side and kicked his shin, sending him stumbling backwards. In a heartbeat, Y/n was on him, knocking the sword from his grasp. She straddled him, raising her dagger high, ready to plunge it into his throat. Jacaerys reacted just in time, catching her wrist in a bone-crushing grip. Y/n cried out, the pain weakening her hold, and Jacaerys seized the opportunity. With a desperate reach, he grabbed the dagger she had previously dropped, which was just at arm's reach, and drove it straight into her side.

"Sister!" Elyas stood from his seat, ready to drive a spear into Jacaerys' heart.

The Princess wailed in agony, her body retracting as she recoiled from the blow. Jacaerys quickly rolled free and scrambled to his feet, retrieving his sword and pointing it at her, his chest heaving as he tried to keep her pinned under the threat of his blade.

"Princess, please, I do not wish to hurt you—"

Jacaerys' eyes widened in horror as he watched Y/n yank the dagger from her side with a wicked grin. Without hesitation, she drove it into his calf. He groaned in pain, nearly collapsing, and used his sword to regain balance, the blade trembling under his weight.

Princess Y/n stood up from the ground, twirling the dagger as she watched the Prince struggle to get back to a defensive stance. Blood trickled down her side, soaking into her dress and staining the sand beneath her a deep crimson colour.

Jacaerys clenched his jaw in humiliation, feeling how pathetic he must have appeared to his mother, Daemon, the Martells, and most of all, to Y/n herself.

Before he could fully recover, Y/n moved like a shadow, slipping behind him. He grunted as she wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him close. The cold edge of her dagger was pressed firmly against his throat, and he dared not move.

He caught a glimpse of his mother, restrained by Daemon and the guards, her blood-curdling screams piercing through the air. It was the last sound he wanted to hear in his final moments. Jacaerys squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the chaos and focus on memories that brought him comfort: the waves crashing against the cliffs of Dragonstone, the rhythmic beat of Vermax's wings cutting through the clouds, and Lucerys' carefree laughter.

As he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky, he smiled bitterly. The absurdity of it all nearly made him laugh. From the moment he had stepped into the arena, he knew he was doomed to fail. Yet, some foolish part of him had clung to the hope that he could make the Princess surrender.

He felt the Princess' laboured breaths in his ear, sending a chill down his spine. He waited, and waited, and waited for the dagger to slash his neck, but the excruciating pain he had anticipated never came.

Instead, a simple command reached his ears. One that, under any other circumstances, he would have defied without a second thought. But at that moment, his life was in the hands of Princess Y/n, and he dared not disobey her.

"Kneel before me," she whispered, making his blood run cold.

Jacaerys felt the Princess's grip loosen, allowing him to stumble forward. He turned back to face her, dropping to one knee, his gaze locked on hers. But in her eyes, he found no trace of mercy, nor cruelty. The bloodlust had drained away, replaced by a storm of emotions she herself couldn't fully comprehend.

That was the first time he had looked closely at the Princess. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, beads of sweat rolling down her temple as a few droplets of his own blood stained her face. There was something undeniably bewitching about her, a pull he couldn't fathom. As he gazed up at the woman before him, a creeping sense of fear began to coil in his chest as he came to realise the power she wielded over him. She was the kind of woman who could either plunge the Seven Kingdoms into chaos or unite them under her command.

"I choose Prince Jacaerys Velaryon as my betrothed," she declared, her voice echoing through the arena as her eyes locked onto Rhaenyra. "House Martell will stand with Queen Rhaenyra in the Targaryen Civil War. In return, we demand control of the Stepstones, the unwavering protection and loyalty of House Targaryen whenever called upon, and the unchallenged independence of Dorne once the war is won. And most importantly," she looked at her father, giving him a firm nod, "I expect an official acknowledgement of Dorne's sovereignty. Let this moment be written in history, for the generations to come."

The dining hall of the Old Palace was in full swing. Delicacies were served in abundance, and the servants scurried about, refilling cups left and right. The Princess was deep into her fifth cup, trying to numb the burning pain of her wound, which had been sewn and bandaged by Maester Kyce, and although her wrist was badly bruised, it wasn't dislocated.

Her gaze shifted to the erotic performance happening before them as they ate. A pair of men and women explored their bodies, trying the most peculiar positions that she never thought were possible. She could only chuckle, the wine painting the scene as the most amusing thing she had ever witnessed. She finished what she had left in her cup, before ushering the servant for more.

It was the only thing that could help her escape the suffocating atmosphere at the round table. Her father wasn't particularly pleased to be sharing the table with the Targaryens, and the feeling was mutual with the Martells. She couldn't bring herself to look at Elyas, whose eyes burned with the desire to start a war. Rhaenyra appeared torn between wanting to have her publicly executed for hurting her son and embracing her for sparing his life—yet even then, Y/n wasn't sure if what she had done was truly an act of mercy. Daemon leaned back, indulging in the finest Dornish wines, smirking as he silently celebrated the small victory of his successful plan. The only person who could have made the ordeal more bearable was Farien, but he was already fast asleep in his chambers.

Then there was Jacaerys. He sat stiffly, trying to focus on anything but her. Yet, there was something about her presence that commanded his attention, and his eyes betrayed him, drifting toward her against his will. Mayhaps her eyes lingered on him longer than she had realised, as their gazes suddenly met. He looked away, as though her eyes just scarred his soul.

"Well, isn't that pathetic..." she muttered under her breath.

That was the man who was to be her future betrothed, a prince who couldn't even meet her gaze without flinching. The thought of marrying someone like him left a sour taste in her mouth.

"Have you got something to say, Princess?" Jacaerys suddenly spat.

"Oh, I most certainly do," Y/n retorted, her lips curling in a mocking grin as she tried her best not to slur her words. Casymir helped her stand up. She took her cup and slowly raised it. "I wish to propose a toast," she began, trailing her eyes at Daemon and Rhaenyra before resting her gaze on Jacaerys. "After all, it's not every day that we witness such a... historic moment. The mighty Dragon, so fierce and proud, finally finds its place... on the ground, with one bent knee before the Serpent. To the ever-lasting and prosperous alliance of House Martell and House Targaryen."

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Prince Qoren hummed in approval, raising his cup with a satisfied smile, while Rhaenyra and Daemon's expressions tightened in shock and disbelief at the blatant disrespect. Daemon's eyes narrowed dangerously, lingering on the knife beside the roast piglet, his fingers inching towards it. But before he could act, Rhaenyra's sharp glare stopped him. Jacaerys, however, had enough of her insolent attitude.

"I wish to propose a toast as well," Jacaerys stood up, wincing at the pain in his leg. "I wish to thank House Martell for their... overwhelming hospitality in receiving the Crown," he paused, taking his time to look at the Martells and each guard. "Not only have we been looked after with the utmost care, every single moment accompanied by the comforting presence of a spear at our backs, but you have also shown us that the great tales they speak of the Dornishmen are nothing but the truth. Fighting against the Princess herself has truly been an honour, and I am forever grateful for the mercy she has shown me. Mayhaps the Princess has a soft spot after all."

"Oh, my Prince," her eyes narrowed, knowing all too well that the mercy Jacaerys had referred to was cowardice. "I would love to have another duel, but I'd much prefer you alive for our wedding."

Jacaerys' face twisted with fury, his anger momentarily blinding him. In a swift motion, he drew his sword. Y/n didn't flinch. Instead, she unsheathed her dagger instinctively, pointing it directly at his forehead.

"We should take this to the arena if the Prince dares, that is," Princess Y/n smirked. "Well?" She taunted, looking down on him.

Jacaerys' nostrils flared with rage, knuckles turning white as he tightly held the grip of his sword. His mother's comforting touch slowly calmed his inner storm, and with a sour look on his face, he put his sword away.

"That's what I thought," she muttered loud enough as she sat back down.

"Aren't they lovely, both of them? Already bickering like an old, married couple," Prince Qoren laughed. "Speaking of, they should marry as soon as possible. The wedding of my beloved daughter should be an event to remember," he turned to the Targaryens. "What do you want, Y/n, dear? We should get a pair of fine Braavosi tigers and make the prisoners fight them in the arena—"

"We are at war, Prince Qoren, we have no time for celebrations," Daemon interrupted him.

"It is only a matter of weeks before Ser Tyland reaches the Free Cities if the winds are in their favour," Rhaenyra echoed Lady Mysaria's words, not able to hide her concern. "Rest assured, once the war has been won, the celebrations will be held in the Red Keep."

"But who can assure me the Prince will not die during this war?" Prince Qoren asked, shrugging his shoulders. "When do you suppose we have the wedding? Once the Prince is dead?"

The Queen's face hardened, her eyes narrowing at him.

"I could have your tongue for that, Prince Qoren," she said coldly.

"I'm glad the formalities are off the table," he muttered bitterly. "Your war can wait. My daughter is of sun and sand and will be married here, in our lands, with our people."

Rhaenyra could barely contain her anger, too tired of hearing the Martells' unreasonable demands. The idea of postponing the war for a wedding felt like a mockery, a distraction from the battle that could determine the fate of her house.

Y/n fought the urge to roll her eyes, too exhausted by the entire ordeal, the weight of her choices, and the tangled mess she now found herself in. With a deep sigh, she drained her cup, forcing herself to adopt a more civil tone.

"As much as I'm enjoying everybody's lovely company, I'm not faring well with my wound. I shall go back to my chambers to rest," the Princess excused herself as Casymir helped her stand up, wrapping his arm around her for support.

By now, the once lavish feast had lost its appeal. The delicacies had grown cold, and the appetite of those present had long since vanished.

"I'll see to it that my sister returns to her chambers safely," Elyas excused himself, rising from his seat and trailing after the Princess.

"Elyas isn't happy about your decision," Casymir said softly as he cradled the Princess in his arms.

Casymir chose to take the long path through the gardens back to her chambers, where the light of the full moon bathed everything in a silvery glow, and the warm evening breeze carried the scent of blooming magnolias. The flickering torches along the way cast dancing shadows, soothing the Princess' spirits.

"I figured as much," she scoffed. "He'll come to understand in due time."

"I'm afraid he won't, Princess," Casymir teased, making her laugh.

"Not even if I explain?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He'd understand even less," Casymir replied with a grin, his words drawing another burst of laughter from her.

At that moment, it was clear that Casymir was the only one who could truly reach her heart. She looked up at her half-brother, noting the familiar wild curls and thick brows they shared. Yet, unlike the brown eyes she and her other brothers had, his were a deep shade of blue, like the glittering Dornish waters on a sunny day.

"You should've been a jester instead, Cas," she murmured, her voice growing softer as the effects of the wine finally began to lull her into sleep. She nestled closer to his chest, allowing herself to relax completely in his arms.

"I'd rather be your shadow, Princess," his eyes softened, watching her doze off.

By the time they had arrived at her chambers, Y/n was already snoring lightly. Casymir raised his brow upon seeing his twin waiting outside.

"Leoran?" Casymir asked. "What are you doing here? Where's Elyas?"

"Inside. I'd hurry if I were you," Leoran said, opening the door for them.

Casymir stepped inside, only to find Elyas sitting on one of the seats. By the look on his face and the empty cup on the table, it seemed that he had been waiting for a while.

"What took you both so long?" He asked, looking at his half-brother in disdain.

"We were in the gardens, Y/n wanted to—"

"Leave us," he commanded.

"Very well," Casymir lowered his gaze and nodded.

He laid the Princess on her bed carefully, brushing a strand of hair off her face, but she already seemed to have been awoken by Elyas' voice. Y/n sat up, rubbing her eyes, only to be greeted by a pounding headache and a sharp pain on her side. Once she spotted her brother with his arms crossed, sitting down across from her, she groaned.

"Well?" He asked, expectantly.

"Not now, Elyas," she sighed.

"Then when?" He stood up and kicked the chair aside. "When? When were you going to tell me what you and Father were planning?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, feeling her headache worsen as Elyas' voice boomed in her ears.

"Planning?" She scoffed. "Father didn't have a say in my decision. He gave me two choices, and I merely chose the one that wouldn't lead to bloodshed."

"Oh, really? What were these two grand choices?" He pressed.

"Side with the Blacks and keep our independence, or refuse, and face the Triarchy and the Greens once this war is over," she paused, gathering all of the patience she had left to keep going. "Do you understand what that would mean, Elyas? It means another war, right on our doorstep. For us. For Dorne. For our people. And tell me, what should I have chosen? More bloodshed? More meaningless deaths? You think that's what Father would've wanted?"

"If you had told me, then I could've helped you decide!" Elyas' voice cracked with frustration, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Help me decide?" She retorted. "And by that, do you mean killing the Velaryon boy?"

"Why not?" Elyas shot back. "You had the chance! You could've slit his throat and ended it all, yet you chose to spare that bastard's life."

"And what would that have accomplished?" She shouted. "Had I killed him, you'd be nothing but a pile of ashes right now. Rhaenyra would've burned us all to the ground before I could even take his head."

"She wouldn't have dared!" Elyas shouted back, his face inches from hers, as though she was the most foolish person to live. "The last thing she needs is another war on her hands, especially against us. Her own house is already tearing itself apart!"

"Very well. If you're so smart, what would you have done?" She scoffed, crossing her arms.

"Face the Triarchy and the Greens. We were victors in the First Dornish War, Y/n. We fought then, and we could fight again. We could win."

"You? Fight?" She sneered. "Tell me, when their dragons' flames rain upon our cities, our people, what would you do? Hide behind the walls of our palace? The same walls that would be turned into ashes? Listen to me. We are not made for wars like this, Elyas. We are not prepared to face something as devastating as another Dornish war."

"And that's why we have those people fighting for us!" Elyas retorted, pointing furiously out the window.

"Those people?" she asked in disbelief. "It should be us fighting for them under those circumstances! Do you not care about the lives beyond the confines of this palace?" She turned away, already feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. "No wonder Father doesn't trust you."

"You both have no clue what you're doing. You're putting our house to shame by trusting the enemy," without warning, he grabbed her injured wrist, yanking her close. She gasped, a sharp pain shooting up her arm, but he didn't relent. "Tell me, sister," he hissed, his face inches from hers. "When this war is over, how will you know they'll keep their word? All those demands you made... you sounded so righteous, so powerful like you had the Targaryens wrapped around your finger. But you know exactly what they think of us. To them, we're nothing but foolish, power-hungry savages," he tightened his grip slightly, causing her to wince again. "And do you know what you've done, dear sister? You just proved them right."

"I'll have your whole arm if you dare lay your hands on me again," she tried to pry her wrist off of him, her voice quivering as her composure began to waver. "You're starting to forget your place, Elyas."

"And you're starting to forget what it truly means to be a Martell," he tightened his grip even more, watching as the Princess sucked a breath in through her teeth.

Elyas let go of her with a push, making the Princess stumble back on her bed. Y/n massaged her wrist with her other hand as she buried her face in her bed, heaving, and squeezing her eyes shut. She flinched upon hearing Elyas' heavy footsteps leave, the door slamming once he left her chambers.

The Princess slowly got up to pick up the jug of wine lying on the table. Upon finding out it was empty, she flung the jug across the room with a frustrated yell. Her strength gave out, and she collapsed to the ground, burying her face in her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her sobs filled her chambers. The soft knocks on her door went unanswered; she knew it was Casymir, the one person who could bring her comfort, yet she couldn't bear to let him see her that way.

Her father's words echoed in her mind. She was destined to be the Princess of Dorne, a role she had fully embraced for as long as she could remember. Yet there she was, crumbling under the pressure, feeling as though every decision she made was beyond her control, burying her deeper into a grave she herself had dug.

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Thank you for being so patient with me. This chapter was a lot longer than I had expected, but here it is. Let's just take a moment and give our Princess Y/n a big hug, she needs it. I don't know why, but i'm having waaay too much fun making these extremely dramatic dialogues. and I live for their drama, tbh.

I also mentioned this before, but I'm having trouble tagging everyone. Some @'s would tag, but for some reason, some of the usernames just appear like normal text. I've double-checked every username and typed them over and over, but i still can't tag you all. Would be great if you guys could tell me how to fix this!

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a @yohanseyebrowmole @dracaryxzs @ladyofvelaryon @burningwitchobject @lovelyteenagebeard @radtragedyarcade @dragonrider-3000 @labellapeaky @wintersoldier-101 @hummusxx @vastseamind @miksxz @cornbreadwithcheese @boiolay @op-oppai-blog @hajmola-vs-aamchaska @nichmeddar @ilovemingandming @Mgurl @marr3adsyou @lotus-888 @icarusvshozier

#dragonspear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon smut #jace x you #jace x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #house martell #oc x reader #oc x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x you smut

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skmhlml · 4 days ago

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I have yet to see this written so I came to request it (I could write it but I have the attention span of a gold fish..)

Vampire AU Eddie & Volt with a (preferably fem but if you only write gn that's good too) human reader. I like being a little cliché so let's set this back a few eras (medieval cuz I'm Castlevania pilled a bit). They are both vampires living away from the rest of civilization for obvious reasons and Volt uses his charm to distract wanderers and make sure they don't live to tell the tale. Reader is just another mortal who wandered too far from home but somehow managed to evade the same fate others have met before her

Okay so the actual prompt comes now, that was more of an exposition (you are free to change anything to add stuff btw). We know medieval times were nefarious for witch trials, right. Someone finds out that reader has been visiting vampires and they deem her a witch, wanting to burn her at the stake. But oh no, they found out way too early and now whatever happens next is left in their hands.

(Do lmk if this is way too specific)

Date requested: 7/21/2025

Fandom: Date everything!

Type: fanfic

Vamp!Eddie & Volt x Fem!Reader

They warned me never to go beyond the forest’s edge. But I had no love for warnings.

The old paths were trodden by rumor and fear, not fact. The whispers of blood-drinkers—immortal things with teeth like knives and eyes that saw straight through your soul—only lured me deeper. They spoke of two men who lived where the light would not tread. Two brothers in shadow.

One was solemn and silent.

The other, radiant like the storm.

They called them the dual fiends of the hills, though never aloud. Never by candlelight.

But I found them. Or mayhap, they found me.

⸻

🌑 The Night I Crossed the Threshold

’Twas a full moon when I first met him. Volt. though I knew not his name then— stepped from the dark like a flame igniting in the black.

“Well now,” he said, lips curling into a grin so wide it near split his handsome face, “what manner of lamb strays so deep into a wolf’s den?”

My tongue stilled. My limbs would not obey. He was radiant— hair like pale fire, eyes sharp and laughing. A silver earring danced at his ear, catching moonlight. His smile spoke of danger but not cruelty.

“I—I seek shelter,” I stammered, clinging to my shawl.

Volt tilted his head. “Shelter… or death, fair dove? For neither come free in these woods.”

But he let me pass. Brought me to a crumbling hall deep in the hills where candles burned with no flame and time stood still.

’Twas there I met the other.

Eddie.

He watched me with eyes like clouded glass, hair curled about his collar in dark strands, his coat heavy as judgment. He said naught for long minutes.

When he did speak, it was with thunder.

“Thou shouldst not be here.”

⸻

Yet I returned. Again, and again.

And still again.

I came with questions. With bread and honey. With trembling hands and tales of a village that had never seen light past its own borders. With my heartbeat hammering in my ears.

Volt teased. Danced in circles about me with wicked mirth.

Eddie studied. Silent. Stern. But gentler each visit.

They taught me to read arcane tomes. Showed me maps older than kingdoms. Spoke truths the priests never dared.

But I did not realize then what I had become in the villagers’ eyes.

A girl in the woods is a maiden.

A girl who returns is a witch.

⸻

They came at dawn with pitchforks and faith.

The priest’s voice cut through the square like a dagger. “She hath danced with devils. She hath kissed darkness with unholy lips. A consort of vampires. A bringer of blight.”

I tried to speak. To deny. But they would not hear me.

They bound me. Beat me. Called me whore and witch alike.

I screamed—not for mercy, not for salvation, but for them.

For Volt. For Eddie.

But daylight is cruel and they do not walk it.

They dragged me to the pyre. Piled wood about my feet. A girl with cinders in her eyes and bruises on her neck.

The match was struck.

⸻

Thunder split the sky.

The flame flickered.

Then died.

From the shadows between torchlight and terror, he emerged.

Volt.

His coat cracked with lightning. His eyes burned gold.

“Unhand her, fools. Lest ye wish to feel what true judgment tastes like.”

They called it sorcery. The priest screamed for iron, for salt, for God’s mercy—

But mercy did not come. Volt did.

He landed amongst them with a scream of wind. Limbs broke like sticks. Blood sprayed like ink on holy robes.

And then came Eddie.

Not a man. Not even a beast.

A silence walked with him. Even the flames dared not move in his wake.

His voice—low and cold—shook the bones of every coward near.

“You sought to kill her. You called it justice.”

He stepped upon the platform, crushed the binding ropes beneath his boot, and stared down the priest.

“Now let us see how thy god answers to ours.”

He touched the man’s chest with but two fingers.

The priest screamed as his body froze, veins glowing white-hot. His blood boiled without flame.

When he fell, the crowd fled.

Not for God.

But for their lives.

⸻

They carried me back beneath the hills. Past the threshold of the world I once knew.

I awoke by candlelight. Volt’s hand was warm against mine.

“I would have razed the world had they harmed thee worse,” he whispered, voice trembling for the first time.

Eddie sat nearby, cloak heavy upon his shoulders. Eyes filled with sorrow.

“I warned thee once,” he murmured. “Yet… I could not watch thee die.”

My voice broke. “Why… did you save me?”

Volt leaned closer. “Because thou art ours.”

Eddie’s eyes met mine. “Because thy life is thine own, and none shall take it—save thee.”

They offered me a choice. No command. No turning.

“Stay, if thou wilt. But know the world of men shall never again be kind.”

And I, foolish girl with ash-stained hands and a heart like a burning wick—

—I took their hands.

And never looked back.

#eddie and volt #eddie and volt x reader #eddie x reader #volt date everything #volt x reader #eddie x reader date everything #eddie and volt date everything #date everything x reader

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mimikittysblog · 5 months ago

Text

The Princess - Prequel

Pairing: Mafia! Poly! Ateez x Fem! Stripper! Reader (ever so slightly Hongjoong focused but not by much)

Genre: Angst, fluff, a hint of smut (no actual sex scenes just mentioned)

Synopsis: Looking at ATZ you’d never expect that they were capable of being in love. Yet they are. How did this happen though? How did you get tangled up in this? And why were they so determined to keep you safe?

Warnings: Kidnapping, major violence, death/murder (not of the major characters), implied sexual activity, MxM of course, alcohol consumption, nightclubs, reader was a stripper, not proofread. So because of all of this please ⚠️MNDI⚠️ if I missed anything please let me know.

Word Count: 5,8k

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE!!!! I won’t blabber here for too much! So I really hope you like this! Any feedback is appreciated! As well as any questions! Enjoy!

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Goodness this place is gorgeous!!” You squeal as you twirl around in your villa.

As San suggested, for your ten year anniversary, you and your husbands went out on a vacation. This year it was to Greece.

“You chose well my smart husband.” Hongjoong compliments Yeosang with a kiss.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“You guys are too much!” You giggle as you open the glass doors that lead to the beach.

“Nothing is ever too much for you our princess.” Seonghwa says.

You can only smile back as you continue exploring the villa. Later that night you all, as per your request, laid on the beach to stargaze.

“Hmm 10 years with my amazing husbands.. what did I ever do to deserve thissss?” You sighed

Hongjoong who was beside you, reached over and grabbed your hand. Brought it to his lips and kissed it.

“Existing. You exist.”

Before you could protest all of your husbands sounded their agreements to captains statement.

While some of that statement holds true. As the moment the boys met you all those years ago, they knew they would give you everything you ever wanted.

The thing is.. something actually did happened to you.. something that technically you did.

That thing made them want to forever repay you. To make sure a smile will forever be on your face, your heart always content and your mind forever at ease.

The truth is your kidnapping that happened almost a month ago now, was not the first time you were taken from them.

There was only ever one other time.

That fateful night is what changed your husbands to be as protective as they are towards you now.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Let’s start at the beginning though.

See, while now the name ATZ sends a chill down most people’s spine in your town. Possibly even your province. Soon it’s possible even your entire country. As they’re the most powerful group of them all. 8 powerful men who wouldn’t let anything get in their way.

They didn’t start like this though.

They started out as 8 unfortunate boys all from different parts of town. Some came from cruel families, some were even orphans. Yet somehow they all met each other and instantly clicking like it was fate, or destiny. They all completed each other in a way and shared similar goals and dreams. As well as similar feelings towards the cruel world.

Hongjoong hated how he was constantly looked down upon. Yunho loathed his abusive high class life. Seonghwa and San despised the cruelty society showed them. Yeosang never understood the health care system. Mingi and Wooyoung also loathe their living conditions all because of loan sharks. Jongho hated stupid rich families that took away his.

So they set out to do something about it. Maybe not necessarily to change the world, but to change their situation. It started small, just petty theft. They then moved on to scams and then to grand larceny and so on. Their crimes kept growing and growing in severity. Eventually establishing themselves as a worthy threat.

They knew they became monsters. Somewhat becoming the thing they hated. They thought it was only fair though. If the world was going to be cruel to them, they’ll be cruel back. Sometimes even crueler.

Eventually they could take small breaks and reward themselves after all the work they’ve done.

Plus men like them need to unwind somehow. So what better way than at a nice club with cold drinks and hot strippers?

In the beginning they actually never went to the same club twice, just to make sure they’re always moving. Yet one night at this particular club, something or specifically someone, made them want to stay there forever.

You.

You were the top stripper at this club. Everyone wanted a piece of you. They were no different. Well… maybe a little different. As their desire for you from the moment they saw you was a strong familiar feeling. It felt like when they first met each other for the first time all those years ago.

What they didn’t know is that when your eyes met theirs, you felt exactly the same way. Somewhere deep in your heart you knew they were the people who will make you feel complete.

Just like that, after a single private night with you (which they paid over 10x your usual rate, just to make sure they have you all to themselves), they went from constantly moving clubs to only ever going to this one. You never complained though.

They were your favorite clients.

Behind closed doors though, they were more than that. They were yours. And you weren’t gonna have it any other way. You always got what you wanted anyway. So when they first started becoming regulars, you did whatever it took to make them want to keep you.

You didn’t have to do much really.

They were already yours the second you gave them your famous lap dances.

Yet they weren’t gonna refuse whatever you had to offer. And what you had to offer was incredibly valuable.

Inside information.

People love to talk, especially when they thought no one was listening. Yet your ears were always wide open. Always looking out for the latest inside scoop or internal plans that the boys might need. So when the next time they see you, you always have something to tell them.

While you ride them of course.

Not something you do with your clients but yet again they’ve always been the exception. They give nice tips and more.

There was also actually something unexpected that you were able to give to them. Actually far more valuable than the information you had.

Comfort.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It isn’t easy being them. They always have to suck up the hard parts of being what they are. It is their consequence. Sure they enjoy some parts of the job, they gain some sick pleasures for the cruelty they inflict. Yet sometimes it’s still a lot.

However with you now being with them, you’re able to just be there to lend an extra shoulder. It made things much easier. You were somehow able to make them feel human again. Not like the monsters they believed they are.

What was first an exchange of goods truly became much more. Now half of the time the guys show up, they truly just wanna hang out with you and drink.

Sure they hope to possibly get a kiss here and there too since they could never resist you. But it really wasn’t really their main reason to see you anymore.

And actually, hanging out with you was also what caused them to realize and admit their feelings for each other.

“..You don’t realize the rest has feelings for you?” You say with a raised eyebrow at the four who decided to give you a visit tonight.

They don’t always go to your club together, sometimes they go alone or even in small groups.

“Heck you guys don’t realize you all have feelings for each other?” You chuckle.

“You look out and care for each other the same way you do me! And as far as I can tell! You don’t look at me as just a friend.” You continue with a smirk.

Oh the looks on their faces. You’ve never seen these men be so shy before.

“…FUCK ALRIGHT FINE! I’ve been in love with all of you for a year now!” Wooyoung finally snaps.

“…me too..” Jongho then admits after a moment of silence.

“..I.. didn’t realize what I felt for you guys was.. love.. romantically I guess..” Mingi says sheepishly.

“..me neither… fuck I never thought I’d ever feel anything romantically.” Yunho whines.

“You’re still only human Yunho. And love like this is something most humans are capable of.” You say as you move to sit in his lap.

“What now..?” Jongho asks.

“That my dear Jongie, is up for you and everyone else to decided. But one favor? don’t leave me out of it?” You giggle.

Yunho could only chuckle before pulling you into a kiss.

“Never.”

Soon another round of fun commenced, where the boys became slightly more touchy towards each other. The next time they visited though, you could tell they were significantly more touchy. More happy too.

So after two years of constantly meeting up with you, they were able to become much more than friends. And they wanted you to be apart of them.

How could you ever say no?

It was all really wonderful.

After a few more visits since making it official the guys decided they wanted to do this properly. So they often took you out when you weren’t working. Being more lovely than all of the guys you’ve ever dated to the point you wondered if they were really a mafia group.

Every date they took you on was just filled with joy and love.

Here they also got to learn more about you as well. How funny you are, brightening their day with laughs. How kind you are with how much you care for them. How smart you are whenever there are problems to be solved and you even helped them with some of their plans. They also learned of your unfortunate background like theirs. How relatable it was. It just makes them fall for you even more and just solidifies how much you mean to them.

Because of that they started to really treat you like a Princess. They even started calling you that. You didn’t think you deserved it but they always told you otherwise. To them you were a princess.

Their Princess.

Despite everything you all should’ve been more careful though.

Cause love is a double edged sword.

And someone was about to exploit that.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Good night my Joongie.” You smile as Hongjoong is leaving your club.

“I’ll miss you princess.” He says softly stroking your face before giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll miss you too.”

Tonight it was just Hongjoong visiting. Just a quick meet up to see and treat you for the night.

He shouldn’t have.

Or maybe he should’ve stayed longer.

Or He should’ve taken you home even.

‘Cause even until now, he believed if he did, what happened to you would’ve been avoided.

That is because only an hour after he left. Someone paid you a little visit. It definitely wasn’t for your services though.

Or at least your normal services.

You were just in your dressing room counting the money you made for the night. Chuckling when you realized literally half of it was from Joong, despite you no longer charging them.

When suddenly your room was busted into.

“What the fuck?!” You yell jumping up from your chair.

“Wrong room fellas. If you’re looking for the bathroom it’s on the other side of the building! Now please get out of my dressing room. And if you’re actually here looking for a night with me, tough luck my shift is over.”

They didn’t reply. Instead they took steps towards you with cynical smirks.

You immediately knew they were bad news.

Your heart rate quickened as you tried to figure a way out fast. The men were blocking your door so your window was the only option. Once you realized that you quickly threw a nearby chair at them and scrambled to the window.

You were unfortunate still too slow, or maybe they were just too fast. They grabbed you but you did whatever you could. You kicked, you clawed, bit, screamed.

Whatever you could.

The men were kinda impressed at your efforts but they weren’t gonna deal with you like this. So one of them got out a cloth of chloroform and put it over your airways. You still fought as best you could but the chemical was taking its effects.

“You’re a feisty one. I can see why ATZ likes you.”

That’s the last thing you hear before you passed out. Panic fills you as you realize the reason why they’re after you. They’re trying to get to your loves using you. But you were determined to not let them.

When you finally regain consciousness, you saw you were in a dark room. Most likely a basement. You also felt the rope that was digging into your skin, and the rough scratchy wooden chair.

“Ah! So you’re finally awake!”

You looked to your side and saw the same man that took you. Along with his thugs.

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” You growled, playing dumb.

“Oh don’t act stupid.” He snapped. “We know about your little relationship with ATZ.”

“They’re my clients?!”

“Oh no no. Word on the street is that they’re more. And after just watching you for a few weeks.. we see that they’re so much more.” He chuckled.

“Creep.”

“Maybe. Look pretty, just tell me where their hideout is, what their upcoming plans are and any weaknesses that they have. That’s all and we’ll let you go.” He said with a smirk.

“They’re literally my clients you idiot. Nothing more. I don’t fucking know anything besides their names.”

SMACK

“Stop lying.” He suddenly snapped after smacking you across the face.

He then showed you an abundance of pictures of you and your boys in the club looking far too close to simply be clients. Then he even showed you some pics of you all out on those dates.

You and Yeosang on the beach.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong taking you shopping.

San eating with you at a fancy restaurant.

Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung having a staycation with you at a 5 star hotel.

Mingi with you at a drive in theater in his most luxurious car.

And more.

You gulped in fear looking at all of these photos. However you just took a deep breath before looking back up.

“I don’t know anything.”

You’re not breaking.

The man then chuckled before leaning down to get up all in your face.

“Pretty. Why are you keeping secrets for them huh? Do you really think they love you? You? A stripper? They’re just bored sweetheart. They’ll get rid of you eventually.” He starts laughing at you. At the absurdity that you thought that they love you.

“So you know what I say? I say get rid of them first. Throw them under the bus! Just tell me what I want to know okay? Then I’ll let you go. Promise!” He continues. Just before pulling out a switch blade and pressing it into your cheek.

“…I don’t want to have to ruin your pretty face and body. Don’t make me angry.”

…

He waited patiently while looking into your eyes. Wanting to read your expression. He then smirked widely when he saw your eyes water.

A single tear then flowed down your cheek. Thinking he’s finally got you. But to his surprise…

You’re not. Breaking.

“Never.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“Hongjoong! Back from seeing darling?” Jongho ask when he saw him return home. He then walked up and gave him a hug.

“Mhm. How was the mission? Everything went well?” Hongjoong asked.

“Of course it did. Better than expected!” Wooyoung suddenly chirped in and snuggled into Joong.

“Good. Now get off me.” He said rolling his eyes. Pretending he didn’t like it.

“…Naaaahhhhh! I missed you! And our Princess! You smell like her.. hmm How is she?”

“Wonderful as always. She decided to end her shift early today.”

“Well why didn’t you take her home with you then? We all miss her you know that.” Mingi asks as he approaches Hongjoong as well. “And get off him! He’s had a long day!”

“I did too and this is how I recharge!” Wooyoung retaliates hugging Hongjoong even closer then giving him a kiss.

“I would but… I don’t know.. She also had a long day and maybe she’d want some alone time tonight..” Hongjoong explains as he moves to the couch.

“How about we just call her?” Jongho shrugs as he sits next to him.

“Yeaaahhh! If she really wants some alone time we’ll let her of course!” Wooyoung reasons as he looks up at him. “Don’t you miss her already too? I seriously can’t take being away from her for too long.” He continues.

“Enough with your whining! I’m calling her now.” Yeosang suddenly says as he walked into the room, phone in hand.

“Hmm she’s not picking up.” Yeosang frowns.

“She’s asleep already?” Mingi asks. Confused as you’re usually still up.

“Maybe she’s that tired.. lets not pester her…” Hongjoong tries to reason.

“Just try one more time. And put it on speaker!” Wooyoung says.

Yeosang only smiles at his whiney boyfriend’s antics as he dials your number again. Putting it on speaker per his request. The phone rang for a while. It rang to the point they were gonna give up and just let you rest. Thinking the assumption of you being asleep to be correct. However the phone was eventually answered.

“Oh darling! You’re still awake! Or did we wake you? Sorry love… we just wanted to know if maybe.. you’d want to come over? We all miss you! Joongie too even though he just saw you hehe” Yeosang explains with a big smile. The others expressions matching his, waiting for your response. Yet.. you didn’t? It was almost dead silent on your end.

“..Darling?”

Soon they started to hear soft panting.

A sinking feeling started to settle upon them.

“Didn’t think you’d call so soon.” A cheery voice suddenly said.

A cheery male voice.

“What the fuck?!” Mingi suddenly burst.

He then grabs the phone out of Yeosangs hand.

“Who are you?! Where’s our girl?!?”

At the loud boom of his voice, the other lovers suddenly rushed to the living room.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks concerningly.

“We.. we tried calling Y/n! But.. this guy answered?!” Jongho explains in a soft panic.

“What?!” San screams.

“Your girl? Cute. Hey pretty. They’re looking for you. Why don’t you say hi? Hmm?”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Mingi continues to bark.

Suddenly a chill runs down their spine once they heard your whimper.

“Darling?? Princess are you alright?!” Yeosang yells into the phone.

You still don’t say anything, just another soft whimper.

“Speak up! They wanna hear you pretty! Oh! Maybe this will make you talk.”

“..N-no!!!”

Just then your painful ear piercing scream came through the phone.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

It’s so much.

it’s almost too much.

The pain.

For what seems like hours these men have been subjecting you to so much pain. In hopes you’ll finally talk. You’ll finally break.

But you won’t.

You can’t.

They’ve also been subjecting you to mental pain. Screaming insults and lies. Telling you how much you don’t mean to your boys, so you should just give in and tell them what they want. How there’s no point in you keeping your mouth shut. How if they weren’t gonna kill you, your “loves” eventually will.

But you didn’t care.

You’re too far gone. Maybe you’re stupid. Maybe you’re insane.

Or maybe you’re simply in love.

So even though you’ve come to acknowledge that maybe they’re right. Maybe you really are nothing but ATZ’s plaything to use when they’re bored. That they wouldn’t even blink an eye at the fact that you’re here or if you died.

You still didn’t care.

Sure it hurts…

The thought that the men you love so much wouldn’t think twice abut throwing you away was almost unbearable.

Almost.

What was unbearable for you though was the thought of them losing. Losing everything they’ve worked for. Everything they’ve built. And especially if they lost their lives.

No.

You knew from the first moment they held you, you’d do anything for them.

As pathetic as that is.

You couldn’t care less.

You love them.

Even if they didn’t.

So you’ll die here. Tortured beyond reason. Just so they stay protected, hidden and alive.

Or so you thought.

Cause the truth is they do care…

‘They called me…’ you thought to yourself

To initially invite you over cause they missed you.

But now their concerned voices are screaming out to you. Begging to know if you’re okay. Begging for your captor to let you go. Bargaining anything for your release.

Hearing all of that you could only whimper.

Overwhelmed with a sense of relief that they in fact did love you.

But you’re determined to keep them safe. So you kept your mouth shut.

Well…

Until that knife came down into your thigh.

“NO STOP IT!!!”

“LET HER GO!! WE’LL TELL YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT! WE’LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT!!”

“PRINCESS!!”

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! BASTARD!”

“Princess talk to us! Please!”

Your captor laughs.

“Awww.. maybe we were wrong pretty. Maybe they do love you. No matter. Still just tell me hmm? Tell me where they are.” The man taunted you. Harshly digging his finger into one of your wounds. Eliciting another scream for you.

“That’s what you wanted to know?!? FUCK FINE! WE’LL TELL YOU! WE’RE-“

“No!”

With whatever strength you had left. You yelped out a plea, cutting Hongjoong off.

“D-don’t.. don’t tell him anything..! AHH!” The finger dug in deeper.

“Even now you’re still protecting them? You’re much more pathetic than I thought.”

“Princess… Princess please.. just tell him. Or let us tell him… don’t do this..” You hear San beg softly over the phone.

“Our love.. our everything please… We can handle it.. just tell him.. or let us! Please!” Jongho added.

“Huh.. I’ve been wondering for so long! What could possibly be your guys weakness?! Turns out… I’ve been giving her a beating this whole time.” Your captor laughs along with his other goons.

“I promise you. We’ll make you fucking pay for even daring to lay a finger on her.” Yunho growls.

“Hmm I’ve been doing much more than that haven’t I pretty?”

SMACK

“STOP!”

“So tell me!”

“We’re at-“

“B-boys stop..!”

“Oh my god stop interrupting them!”

“Y-you wanted me to talk so badly?! I’ll fucking talk! Just.. let me talk to them first!” You yelled.

He stays silent for a minute. Thinking. He then sees no harm in letting you talk to them cause you are finally talking. So he then rolls his eyes at you before moving the phone closer to you.

“..Boys…” You cry.

“Princess! We’re here!” Seonghwa yells, trying to reassure you.

“It’ll be okay our love! Just h-hang on okay?” San adds.

“Just tell him what he wants to know..! We’ll handle it yeah..?” Mingi asks of you.

“My lovely boys.. please listen to me very carefully…” You take a deep breath as you get choked up. Tears streaming down your face.

“I love you. So much. So please… Give this fucker hell for me.”

As soon as those words leave your mouth, you lurched forward and was able bit into your captor’s wrist.

“ACK FUCK!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

He then drops the phone trying to get out of your bite. Now while your upper body was tied up, stupidly your legs were not. So with your free leg you stomped on the phone, effectively smashing it.

Cutting off your communication with your boys.

Soon enough your captor’s goons pulled you off of his wrist.

“You’ll never know where they are! And you’ll never beat them! And when they kill you, I’ll deal with you in hell myself you fucking bastard.” You vow with conviction and eyes filled with a crazed fiery passion, after spitting his blood onto his face.

“Well then enjoy hell you psycho bitch.”

Your world suddenly went black. His fist being the last thing you saw.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

“What? Princes-“

BEEP BEEP

Call disconnected.

“NO!!!”

“PRINCESS NO!!”

“FUCK!”

Panic ensues. The boys are spiraling, still screaming pleas into the phone hoping it’s some kind of glitch. Hoping you can still hear them.

“Yeosang please tell me you got their location?!?! Please!!” San yells to the boy who was trying to locate you through the call.

“W-wait! I-it’s still searching!!” He yells back, eyes filled with tears after hearing everything. Eyes frantically looking at his laptop screen, begging for it to give him your location.

“The call ended!!! Are you sure the GPS can find it?!” Jongho asks.

“It has to!!! God knows what’s happening to her!!!” Wooyoung answers him.

“Please.. please princess hold on… we’ll find you..!” Seonghwa pleads softly into his shaky hands.

“FOUND IT!”

“LETS GO!” Hongjoong barks.

Within a blink of an eye, the boys got into their vehicles and were off. Disregarding any traffic laws and almost certainly causing some kind of accident. But that’s a later problem. They just needed to save you. Quick.

“We’re on our way.. please just hang on…” Yunho says softly as he floors it.

And just like that they found the place where the GPS says you were. It looked like an abandoned house. However based on the armed guards that were surrounding the area, they’ll bet that you were in fact in there.

“Everyone be safe!!! But do what you must to find and get her back!!!” Hongjoong orders through their radio.

Just like that, without mercy and a second thought they stormed in, killing anyone and everyone that wasn’t you in this wretched building. Every room they entered, their eyes searched frantically. Desperate to find you. Absolutely terrified of your fate.

Now you would think that they were outnumbered. As you would think the entire building is just filled with tens of henchmen and it was just the eight of them. You would in fact be correct. They were outnumbered.

However that didn’t matter.

The reality being nothing has ever stopped them before.

And nothing will stop them now.

Especially with your life on the line.

They’re filled with so much pure rage and determination. To the point that if they had to save you in hell from the devil himself. They would.

So what should’ve been a death trap for ATZ. Became a death sentence for your captors.

Eventually Mingi who was ahead of the others, found a looked door. With all his might plus with the adrenaline pumping through him, he broke it down. He saw it lead to a basement and he just knew you were in there.

“GUYS!!! COME HERE!” He shouted before running into the basement.

Yet when he got to the bottom, dread immediately plagued his heart. What he found should’ve filled him with relief but it didn’t. What he found was you. Unresponsive. Tied to a chair with your head tilted down. Bloodied and bruised beyond compression.

No.. you can’t be…

“P-princess…”

“Mingi?! Did you find he- ...no… please no…” Yunho whispered.

The others soon followed Mingi into the basement. When they all saw you though, they feared the worst. When Hongjoong saw the sight of you, he felt his world completely shatter.

“Princess…” He said before running to you and getting on his knees before you. You looked so broken. He didnt even have the heart to touch you.

He couldn’t see you breathing… So he believed the worst.

“Princess no..”

Some just catching a glance at you and already couldn’t take it. Causing them to turn away while holding in their tears. The others just kept staring at you, holding on to hope, approaching you softly.

Hongjoong then ever so softly moved your blood soaked hair out of your equally bloody face.

“Princess.. wake up… l-look at me please..”

Just hours ago he left you at your club after a lovely visit filled with laughter and love. Just hours ago he saw you smile so beautifully at him. Just hours ago you kissed him goodbye. Just hours ago… you were alive…

He’ll never forgive himself.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so so sorry…” he sobbed.

He looks down unable to look at your state anymore. At the sound of their boyfriends cries, they all broke down.

They couldn’t believe that they were too late. They couldn’t believe that they lost you. They knew that they should get out of there. They’re sure more men were gonna come after them but they’re finding it hard to care. You were gone. What does it matter anymore?

Or so they thought.

As Seonghwa was approaching you to cut you out. He noticed your finger twitched.

‘She’s alive..?!’ Seonghwa thinks, eyes widening

Then he sees you trying to move your head ever so slightly and he knows you’re still alive.

You’re still with them.

“S-she’s moving!!! She’s MOVING! she’s alive!! Hongjoong she’s alive!!!”

Hongjoong, who was closest to you, along with everyone else’s eyes immediately snapped back up and saw your own fluttering open.

“…j-joong..ie..”

“P-princess!!!! Cut her out now!! Seonghwa!! Yeosang!! Take her to the nearest hospital!! Do what you must to get her urgent care!! We’ll deal with everything later!! Princess hold on okay??? Just hold on!!” Hongjoong orders.

As quickly and carefully as they could, they cut you out of your restraints and carried you out. While Seonghwa and Yeosang left to take care of you. The others are going to deliver on their promise.

So they continued their massacre in this building. They continued to kill anyone in their sight, being more brutal now. Knowing you were no longer in this building. Also because they saw what they had done to you.

No person should live after what they had done to you.

Eventually they burst into a lavish office. Only to see just a man sitting at his desk sipping wine.

“So? You’re finally here. Did you get to her in time? Or did she kick the bucket already?” He chuckles.

Recognizing his voice, they knew this was the man responsible. They also saw the blood on his hands and clothes. It completely blinded them with rage once again, that this man could tease them like that as he was splattered in your blood.

So while usually the boys did enjoy some stupid banter between their enemies. Obviously though, they’re currently not in the mood.

So without blinking, let alone saying a single word. Hongjoong walked up to him and knocked him out with a single wrath filled punch.

Oh your captor will think hell will look like heaven when your boys are done with him.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Your eyes begin to open. Bright light is what greats you. For a split second you thought you died. Thankfully though you felt their hands on you. Knowing that it’s their way to make sure you’re still there with them. At the flutter of your eyes they perk up, waiting to see if you’re really waking up.

You did.

You opened your eyes fully and take in the sight of them.

My goodness…

They look so disheveled..

They’ve never looked this sad, this worried, this.. broken…

You couldn’t help but pout a little before slowly smiling when you really understood the situation.

You’re still alive. You’re still with them. And they’re right here.

“M-my loves…”

Not a single pair of eyes were dry in that room.

Everyone started to sob at the reality that you’re gonna be okay.

“We did what you asked princess… we killed him. We made sure he suffered too.” Hongjoong tells you in a whisper.

“He won’t hurt you anymore.” Yeosang adds.

“No one will.” Seonghwa says.

“We promise.” Wooyoung tells you as the others nod.

You smile at them before crying even more.

“I’m.. I’m just h-happy you’re here… I’m happy you.. you actually love me..” You sob.

“what?! Of course we do..!” Yunho says

“He.. he made me think… y-you’ll… you’d throw me away..”

“Never.” San promises.

“I was.. so scared… b-but I promised myself t-they wouldn’t get to you.. I.. I wasn’t gonna let them..!” You cried harder, remembering all they put you through.

The boys did what they could to comfort you. Reassuring you that they were safe and that you are very loved. Your cries and the stories you tell of what they did to you also causing them extreme pain.

At the end of your retelling, you heard a soft thump. You all looked over to see Hongjoong on his knees beside your bed.

“J-joongie..? My love what are you-“

“I’m sorry… it’s all my fault.” He starts, with a shakiness in his voice.

“Hongjoong my love that’s not true-“

“No. It is. I should’ve brought you home. I should’ve protected you. You didn’t deserve any of that. I.. I’m sorry.” He starts, tears streaming down his face.

“But I promise you princess. I will do. Anything. And everything. For you. To make sure this doesn’t happen again. To make sure you’re safe, happy and loved. I’ll make sure nothing will ever harm you again. I swear.” He vows to you still on his knees.

As you were about to speak, all of your boys then began to sink to their knees as well.

“We swear too.” Jongho vows as well.

“Darlings…”

“We’ll make sure you’re the most respected. The most feared. The most important person anyone will ever know. No one will ever dare harm you again.” Yunho adds to the vow.

You hear it in their voice. They mean it.

And these boys always delivers on their promises.

“My loves… Thank you.” You say softly.

Just like that, that’s how the tradition of people bowing down to you started.

It took you weeks to fully recover. The boys making sure to keep you company and you get the best service while you were healing.

Though they had lots to do though. They had to deal with the hospital and the traffic accidents caused trying to get to you. It was all worth it though. Because at the end of the day, you’re always worth it.

Once you were discharged they surprised you by revealing that they bought a new home. One where you’ll be living in with them. It really was a dream.

A couple of years later, you all finally decided to tie the knot. It was a lavish but small wedding. You nine are the only family you have. So it’s just you and the very confused officiate. You wouldn’t have it any other way though.

It really was the best night of your lives.

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Ten years later here you are.

Celebrating your anniversary once again.

After your night on the beach, most of you were discussing what else to do while you’re on vacation. You noticed however that one of you was not there. You looked around the villa to find Hongjoong at one of the balconies.

“Joongie..? Sweetheart? What are you doing here my dear husband hmm?” You ask as you approach him. Hugging him from behind.

“…I can’t believe we’re here.” He softly mumbles.

“..in.. Greece?” You ask confused

Hongjoong chuckles before turning around to hug you.

“No. I can’t believe we’ve been married for ten years.. together for.. what 16? And.. happy. After everything…” He says softly cupping your cheek and rubbing it softly.

You giggle before nodding.

“Me neither darling.. but I can see the sadness in your eyes. What’s troubling you hmm?”

“..I just… I can’t believe you still love us after everything. My love.. you got kidnapped again…. after I promised.. I vowed. that I would keep you safe. You stayed with us after all of that and I can’t really see how... I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you suddenly ran away fro-“

You then cut him off his rambling with a kiss.

“Never say such ridiculous things my husband.” You said sternly. “I would gladly get kidnapped everyday if it means you’d be the one that saves me and I could be with you forever. Why? Because you’re worth it.”

“You’ve made me feel so happy, loved and alive all these years. When before you all I was just surviving. I love all of you so much. You call me your princess because you treat me like one. Why would I ever run away from that? …Please stop blaming yourself for what happened to me all those years ago and what happened recently. None of it was your fault. Besides! Remember what I told you all? What really harmed me that night was not the physical aspect of it. Sure it hurt. But what really made it torture was the thought that you wouldn’t save me… that you didn’t love me. But you do. So it made it worth it and I never once doubted your love for me ever again. So please never doubt mine.”

Before he could argue you cut him off with a kiss once again.

“No arguing with your wife on our anniversary. …or ever cause I’m always right anyway.” You giggle.

It caused Hongjoong to laugh too before nodding and pulling you into one last kiss.

“Alright.. I love you darling. Forever.”

“I love you more.”

“YAAAH WHAT ABOUT US??”

You turned around to see the rest of your husbands, Wooyoung in the middle all pouty.

“Oh just get in here already!” You say before they all quickly come over and wrap you two up in a big group hug.

Getting here wasn’t easy. There are also a million things that you guys went through that parts of you wish you didn’t. Sometimes you wish you all were just a normal married couple that wasn’t constantly targeted.

Yet moments like these…

Yeah.

It’s worth it.

“Sooooo ready to continue celebrating our ten years in this beautiful place my loves?” Yunho asks

“Let’s go!”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Taglist: @stay-tiny-things @jaerisdiction @bee-gremlin @gae-ping-boosay @xh01bri @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @buttercup0024 @bigarinotthelilone @heiswan @dalsuwaha @girl-in-love-with-kpop @ateezswonderland @starryjoong-jeongcheollie @michaeladmorris @faeprincess777 @pinkpearlstar @maplelilly05 @starygw3n @sweetinsaniiity

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nova885 · 7 months ago

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Inaction is an act of cruelty.

Rhysand and Feyre are throwing the women in Hewn City to the wolves in favor of not having to deal with the actual ruling part of their… rulership.

They leave the women to rot in a breeding ground for misery, trapped inside that mountain alongside their abusers.

Rhysand and Feyre know their inaction directly translates to subjecting the women to abuse, rape, mutilation and death.

Feyre is not only complicit in Rhysand’s way of ruling, but actively participates by telling Keir they have everything they could possibly need. Fully aware she just sealed the women’s fate of being stuck inside the mountain forever. Women who have never breathed in fresh air or who have never seen the night sky.

The amount of cruelty that actually takes. To be so fully aware of the suffering going on, having witnessed it first-hand, having talked to direct victims… and still purposely turning a blind eye?

This does not equate to ‘wearing a mask’. It isn’t pretending. This is what they’re perpetrating. Their inaction and complicity defines them.

But sure. They are kind, compassionate and fair rulers. High King and High Queen of Prythian material, right?

#anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti ic #my post

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shizuturnspages · 6 months ago

Note

The poor child reader khaenri'ah since she was unlucky to meet her new yandere caretakers, they have her locked in her new room and restricted of her abilities, it will be possible that the Member fatui or Knights Favonius, (bennett?) (Razor) (Columbine?) (arlecchino?) (pulcinella?) (¿childe and teucer?) (Signora?) (dottore? Sounds crazy, but you might be interested in his experiments) (mika?) , (sacarosa?) (diluc?) or (Klee? ) (There are quite a few options and scenario) meet reader by orders or chance escape and feel bad with her, play with her or manage to at least establish a relationship (such as teaching her something or reading her a story) ??? Being locked up would eventually drive her crazy xD. Basically the yandere who have been trying to get along with her for months or years? They observe how suddenly out of nowhere the reader stops causing chaos and obeys, years of effort just for nothing. Are they jealous? Bad influence? Or will they use it against you??

The Light That Found You, The Shadows That Cling

Synopsis: You had fought them for so long. Kicking, screaming, resisting—you never surrendered. Every locked door was a challenge. Every restriction was a test. They thought they had all the time in the world to break you down. But then, one day… you simply stopped. You didn’t try to escape. You didn’t fight back. You listened. You obeyed. At first, they were suspicious. Then they realized—it wasn’t because of them. It was because of someone else. And that? That was unacceptable. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Pierro, Kaeya, Albedo, Capitano x Khaenri'ahn Child

Diluc – The Unintended Saviour

He hadn’t meant to get involved.

He didn’t agree with how they treated you, but interfering? That would make him an enemy to powerful forces.

But when he saw how lifeless you had become, he couldn't ignore it.

He started small—slipping you books, warm meals, quiet moments of freedom in the dead of night.

He expected you to be wary… but you accepted his kindness so easily.

Too easily. As if you had been waiting for someone—anyone—to treat you like a person.

That realization made his blood boil.

Klee – The Little Spark That Lit Your Soul

Klee was never supposed to meet you.

But when she did? She saw a lonely child.

You weren’t mean like the adults said. You weren’t dangerous.

You were just sad.

"Let's play, okay?" she had said, pulling you into a game of knights and treasure hunts.

And for the first time in years—you played along.

You smiled.

And Klee never stopped visiting after that.

Bennett – The Unlucky Hero Who Became Your Light

He met you by accident. (Or maybe his bad luck led him to you on purpose.)

"Woah! You’re the kid everyone keeps locked up? That’s rough, buddy."

He expected you to snap at him. Instead, you just stared.

You weren’t scared of him. You weren’t angry.

You were just… tired.

And that? That wasn’t fair.

"Hey, I’ll tell you an adventure story! Ever heard about the time I fell into a pit of slimes?!"

You didn’t react at first…

But then you laughed.

And for Bennett? That was worth every bit of bad luck.

When the others saw how you changed—how you smiled for him but not for them?

They hated it.

Columbina – The Softest Lullaby in the Dark

She always found you fascinating.

But this? This was something new.

You let her brush your hair, sing you to sleep, and never once did you flinch away.

It was almost too easy.

"You trust me so quickly, little star." Her voice was honeyed, but her mind was calculating.

Who had made you like this?

And how could she use it to keep you forever?

Signora – The Moth Drawn to a Dying Flame

She had seen the worst the world had to offer.

She knew what cruelty looked like. She had lived it.

But you? You were just a child. A lost thing, full of broken pieces and sharp edges.

And yet, despite everything, you had fought.

Fought them, fought fate, fought against becoming another forgotten tragedy.

Until, one day… you didn’t.

At first, she thought it was a trick.

But then, she saw the way you lingered near Diluc, smiled at Klee, softened around Columbina.

And she realized—you had given up.

Not because of fear. Not because of submission.

But because you had found warmth somewhere else.

That was dangerous.

That was a weakness she would not allow.

"Don't be a fool, little ember," she says one evening, tilting your chin up with one gloved finger. "They won't always be there. But I will."

Her voice is gentle, but her grip is iron.

She won’t let you leave. Not now. Not ever.

The Ones Who Watched It Happen

They had tried for years to tame you.

To break you. To mold you into something manageable.

And yet, the moment you found kindness, you changed.

Not for them. For others.

That stung.

That infuriated them.

That made them desperate.

Dainsleif – The Guardian Consumed by Guilt

He had tried to be patient. To give you time.

But this? This wasn't supposed to happen.

You weren’t supposed to choose someone else.

You were supposed to trust him.

"Did I fail you?" he murmurs, watching you from the shadows.

He doesn’t know if he should feel regretful… or jealous.

Pierro – The Chessmaster Who Lost His Piece

He had calculated everything.

Your resistance. Your defiance. Your inevitable surrender.

But this? This was a variable he hadn’t considered.

"It appears I underestimated the influence of simple kindness."

His expression was unreadable.

But inside? He was furious.

Kaeya – The Smiling Mask That Finally Cracked

He had teased you, pushed you, manipulated you…

And you never broke.

But now? You willingly let someone else in?

"I thought we had something special, little star." His tone was light, but his hands were clenched.

He had to get you back.

Albedo – The Experiment That Yielded the Wrong Result

He had watched you, studied you.

Your patterns, your resistance, your growth.

But now? You were no longer the same.

And that was unacceptable.

"I must correct this anomaly," he murmurs to himself.

You were his greatest creation.

And he wouldn’t let you slip away.

Capitano – The Warrior Who Lost His Battle

He respected your defiance.

He had thought it would take years for you to submit.

And yet…

A few moments of kindness undid everything he had worked for.

That? That was a weakness he could not allow.

"You are still mine," he tells you, his voice heavy with finality.

And he meant it.

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crawlspacefics · 1 year ago

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Tangled Web (Chapter 6) - Throwback Thursday edition

Some grandmotherly advice, a date gone wrong, another gone right, and Rei being surprisingly good at telling stories.

Kaya walked over and sat beside her grandmother. She sat Miki in her lap so he could lean against her, while Hana smiled widely and fussed over him. After a few minutes, Miki started to smile back and laughed as his tummy was tickled.

“I must say,” Kaya interjected into their game, “that you have handled all of this remarkably well.”

Hana’s smile softened. “Well, Ami always was a bit different. And it’s like I’ve always told you, times may change, but people don’t. Just because we didn’t talk openly about certain things when I was young, doesn’t mean they weren’t happening. We just understood discretion better back then. These days, no one cares who knows what. Though, it would have been much better if someone had told me clearly so I wouldn’t have seemed so foolish when they were introduced.” She let the baby grab onto her fingers and pull them into his mouth.

As he began his drooly gnawing, she added, “Besides, it would have been difficult finding a suitable husband for her. Most men of accomplishment can’t handle being overshadowed by their wives, and Ami would have been unhappy if she was forced to be less than she is. This way, she is as respected as she is loved, she has her family, and she has a healthy son to take care of her in her old age. It’s all worked out very well for her. Now, we just have to deal with you.”

Kaya smirked as playful blue eyes peered up at her through thick lenses. “Don’t forget Kyo. He has yet to marry and reproduce.”

“I’ve given up on the boy,” said Hana dismissively. “A woman wants a husband, not an overgrown child. He’s a good boy; he takes care of his parents and works hard. He just isn’t proper marrying material.”

“If I recall, you said the same about me,” returned Kaya. Then she handed the baby to Hana and got up to retrieve his bag.

Hana bounced the baby on her lap until Kaya came back, and as the younger woman wiped the spit from Miki’s chin, she went on, “You don’t make a proper wife. That hasn’t changed. But this man doesn’t seem to be looking for someone to keep his house and bear his children.”

“It’s a good thing, too,” chuckled Kaya. “Or he’d be looking somewhere else.”

“So why aren’t you married yet? Or is that why you’re here?”

Kaya sighed at the almost hopeful tone in her grandmother’s voice. “Why does everyone just assume I want to marry him?”

“Because this is exactly what you did the last time,” answered Hana. “You never bring anyone home. Even when you were young, it was a challenge just for us to meet your friends. Your parents still think you were a chaste and studious teenager. But you brought this man home, all on your own, so there must be something that compelled you to do it. What else do you expect us to think?”

Kaya opened her mouth to answer, then closed it and shrugged. Even Miki seemed to be looking at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. “I just wanted to,” she said finally. “There isn’t any more to it than that. Things work well right now the way they are, and I’m not in a hurry to change them.”

“Is that so?” said Hana. Then she nodded. “All right. As long as you’re happy. But you know what they say about a man and his cow, don’t you? If you keep giving it to him for free, he will become lazy, complacent, and bloated, and will go looking for a new udder when yours runs dry.”

Kaya’s jaw dropped. She blinked, incredulous, then stuttered out, “Gram, I… I don’t have any idea how to respond to that.”

“It doesn’t require a response, dear,” answered Hana. “You just think about it.”

“I don’t think I want to,” she responded, her nose wrinkling.

“What a silly girl,” chuckled Hana. “And don’t think I don’t know where you’ve been sleeping every night. You always make things so much more complicated than they need to be."

#sailor moon #makoami #reinako #makoto kino #ami mizuno #rei hino #minako aino #setsuna meioh #hotaru tomoe #haruka tenoh #michiru kaiou #harumichi #the cruelty of fairness and fate #throwback Thursday fics

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gav-san · 2 months ago

Text

A Lineage of Red Masterlist

One Piece Masterlist

Regular Masterlist Here

(Young) Garling Figarland x F!Reader

Summary: In Mariejois, power is polished, bloodlines are currency, and every smile is sharpened for war. You enter the debutante season under a false name and forged pedigree—a revolutionary spy sewn into a silk gown, tasked with unearthing the secrets hidden beneath centuries of marble and etiquette.

Your mission is simple: survive the social circuit, gather intelligence, and escape unnoticed.

But then he notices you.

Saint Garling Figarland—God’s Knight, judge of blood, master of selection—watches you like a man cataloging flaws in a prized weapon. You were supposed to be beneath his interest. Now you’re squarely in his sights.

But under the chandeliered hunts and well-mannered threats, something else sharpens between you. Something that looks dangerously like recognition.

Warnings: Garling Figarland x f!reader, mature audience, 18+, Mdni, Spoilers for One Piece, foul language, non-con, mentions of non-con, dubcon, closed door degradation, yandere Garling, Figarland is his own warning, Dark Romance, politics, espionage, revolutionaries, Celestial Dragons

Notes: Mariejois isn’t a happy place. War crimes are bad.

Chapters

Chapter 1

Your mission is simple: survive the social circuit, gather intelligence, and escape unnoticed. But then he notices you. Saint Garling Figarland—God’s Knight, judge of blood, master of selection—watches you like a man cataloging flaws in a prized weapon. You were supposed to be beneath his interest.

Chapter 2

The debutante season begins, but something colder stirs beneath the silks and chandeliers. You play your role—sweet, forgettable, invisible—until a single misstep exposes more than it should. A forbidden name escapes your lips. A glass you shouldn’t have taken dulls your edge. And Commander Figarland watches. Thorne moves to protect you, but protection has its price, and attention from the wrong man is its own kind of mark. Whispers rise. Motives shift. And now, with the Juniper Ball looming, you're no longer just a pawn.

Chapter 3

At the Juniper Ball, you move through the political games under Thorne’s careful guidance until Garling Figarland personally selects you for a private encounter. The night ends with you untouched, but something lingers in the air, a silent promise of what’s to come, leaving the court uneasy and curious.

Chapter 4

You become the center of Mariejois gossip, your every move whispered about in salons and scribbled in ink-stained letters. Despite the attention, you quietly continue your courtship with Thorne, your connection to him a carefully crafted façade. But Garling Figarland, the revered God’s Knight, seems far from finished with your game.

Chapter 5

Summoned to the sunlit solarium above Mariejois, you meet Figarland Garling for the first time since your fateful game of chess. The encounter unfolds like a game—each word, each gesture, deliberate. His interest is unsettling, his familiarity unearned. Beneath the civility lies something sharper: a veiled interrogation, a claiming smile, and the sense that you’ve already been chosen.

Chapter 6 (Part 1) (Part 2)

As the sacred Hunt begins, the court expects performance—flirtation dressed as tradition. But when Garling Figarland invokes an ancient title once meant for conquest, the game turns. With no blade, no route repeated, and no intention of playing fair, he enters last... and changes everything. One by one, suitors fall. The Red Reader runs. And behind her, the Assassin walks—unrushed, inevitable.

Chapter 7

In the Holy City of Mariejois, where elegance masks cruelty and gossip is its own form of warfare, a forgotten estate suddenly finds itself thrust into the center of court attention. Far from the city’s glittering eyes, a hidden council debates the price of survival, reckoning with old choices and the cost of silence.

#gav story #figarland garling x reader #garling #dark romance #one piece #A Lineage in Red #A Lineage of Red Masterlist #mild spoilers #god valley

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makoami · 4 months ago

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Cruelty and Fairness of Fate Fancomic Chapter 16 part 2. Originally by Crawlspace.

#sailor moon #minako aino #rei hino #reinako #the cruelty of fairness and fate comic

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iboatedhere · 4 months ago

Note

Can I have 😭 & firstprince please?

"I'm not okay."

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Henry looks up from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Do I look okay?” He asks, voice cracking. “Of course I’m not okay.”

Alex sighs. “Baby…I didn’t mean for this to be like this.”

“How else is it supposed to be?” He asks as three wiggly beagles fight for a spot on his lap. He lifts his chin to avoid getting his face licked but the dogs are determined. “What exactly am I supposed to do in this situation?”

Alex throws his hands up as two other puppies begin to chew on the laces of his sneakers.

This was supposed to be a good idea, mainly because it was his idea.

They’ve both watched David get older and slower. There’s more white on his face and he enjoys being carried up the stairs to bed every night, but he comes alive when he sees the other dogs at the park. Alex had read about the benefits of getting a senior dog a younger companion and after careful consideration they both agreed that they were ready to open their homes to a dog in need. They also agreed that they wouldn’t rush it. They’d wait until they found the right fit for their family.

But then Alex happened upon a post from a local organization about a pack of beagles that were rescued from an animal testing facility and it all seemed a bit like fate.

The only problem is that they have to pick one. One. Because taking home six puppies would be too much. They can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to the puppies.

“Henry,” Alex starts softly, “we don’t have to pick today. We don’t even have to pick from this group of puppies. I’m sure they’ll all get adopted and I’m sure we’ll find another that’s meant to be with us.”

Henry’s jaw clicks as he looks up with a steely gaze. “You honestly believe I won’t be leaving here with one of these precious angels who have known nothing but cruelty for their entire lives?”

Alex raises his hands and steps back. “All right. I’m sorry, it was just a suggestion.”

Henry sniffs then focuses on a puppy that’s been hanging out in the corner, his big brown eyes just taking it all in.

“What about him?” Henry asks as he carefully sets down the puppy in his arms.

“Oh, he’s a sweetie,” one of the volunteers says as she scoops him up. “But very shy. I think he just needs a good, quiet place to decompress and he’ll come out of his shell.”

She sets the puppy down in Henry’s arms and he immediately curls up against his chest.

“Well,” Alex says as he kneels down beside Henry. “What do you think? Could he be the one?”

Henry nods and presses a kiss to the top of the pup's head. “Yes,” he says. “I think so.”

#never let them know your next move!#rwrb #rwrb fic #firstprince #firstprince fic #ficlet friday #ask

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thelifeofchuckmovie · 11 months ago

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When it comes to ending the world, Stephen King is a repeat offender. He has brought life as we know it to a brutal conclusion several times over the decades, usually highlighting the cruelty and desperation that erupts among the last to go. But his 2020 story “The Life of Chuck” uses doomsday to evoke some unlikely sentiments: Wistfulness. Gratitude. Even joy.

The idea of creating an apocalyptic version of It’s a Wonderful Life is what led filmmaker Mike Flanagan to call dibs on the rights to the novella more than four years ago. The breakdown of society, extinction-level natural disasters, and the disintegration of reality itself is explored through the lens of one relatively meek and mild accountant, played by Tom Hiddleston, whose memories and choices are mysteriously connected to these tribulations. Retirement posters congratulating him on “39 great years” pop up everywhere. But who is this guy? What job does he do (or did he used to do)? And why does it matter so much to the fate of the world? This apparent nobody named Chuck Krantz has lived larger than anyone thought possible.

Having explored King country before in 2017’s Gerald’s Game and 2019’s The Shining sequel Doctor Sleep, Flanagan got involved after reading an early copy of “Chuck” before it was published in the collection If It Bleeds. The Haunting of Hill House and Fall of the House of Usher creator produced the film independently, believing it might be too offbeat for risk-averse studios to greenlight. He even secured a waiver from the striking Hollywood guilds last year to move forward with the shoot while the rest of the industry was stuck in the work stoppage. Now he and Hiddleston are ready to reveal the finished version of The Life of Chuck as it heads to the upcoming Toronto International Film Festival, where it will screen for potential distributors.

Among the skeptics about this adaptation was King himself, according to Flanagan. “His initial responses to me were a little like, ‘Oh, okay. Yeah. If you think that’s a movie…,’” he says. “He did say several times that he thought it would be a challenge to get it supported through traditional means.”

King has now seen the finished movie and no longer has doubts. He described it to Vanity Fair as “a happiness machine.”

“Well, he’s written something very tender and very wise,” Hiddleston says. “I think there is a great wisdom in the soul of the story, which is that it takes courage to hold on to what is good in a world that feels like it’s falling apart.”

Flanagan hopes others see it that way too, although the overpowering dread that begins the story may be more immediately relatable. “I’ve heard it said that every generation feels a little like the world is ending at some point, [but] I still feel like it’s different for us,” the 46-year-old filmmaker says with a mordant laugh. “Institutions we took for granted as propping up our society are failing left and right. Our politics have degraded spectacularly. The sense that it’s breaking down, that the world is moving on, has been increasingly palpable. When I talk to my parents or members of older generations who have been through their own turbulent times, the thing that strikes me is that they’re like, ‘Oh yeah, this is really bad.’”

But…it’s not entirely bad. And that’s the underlying message of The Life of Chuck as its various mysteries play out. “There’s no sense of terror in the way that King drew it,” Flanagan says. “Even as the world feels as though it’s ending, people become introspective, they reach into their past for loves that have left their lives for one reason or another. Strangers engage in open and fearless communication.”

It’s an indie-film variation on the big-budget cataclysm story. “A disaster movie has people meeting the end while running from tidal waves, and this story has people sitting quietly holding hands looking at the stars,” Flanagan says.

The key to it all is Chuck himself, although he doesn’t turn up onscreen until the second segment of the three-act story, which plays out in reverse chronological order.

The beginning is actually the end, as the whole world circles the drain. Caught in this spiral is Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave), a school teacher trying to apply logic to the planet’s troubles; Karen Gillan (Guardians of the Galaxy) is his ex, a hospital worker determined to save everyone she can; Matthew Lillard (Scream) is a construction worker neighbor who finds zen amid the chaos; and Carl Lumbly (Alias), plays a funeral director who has dedicated his life to easing people through death.

The end of the movie is actually the beginning, showing young Chuck (Benjamin Pajak) when he was a boy being raised by his grandparents (Mia Sara of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Mark Hamill). The insight of these two—coupled with the otherworldly revelations he finds in an eerie room tucked into the peak of their Victorian home—help him learn to seek out bright spots when life is marred by sorrow and darkness.

In elementary school, young Chuck discovers some important things about himself thanks to guidance from a brusque dance instructor (Samantha Sloyan), and a kindhearted English teacher, played by Kate Siegel, who gives the boy (not to mention the audience) some important information that serves as a code breaker for the story's more cosmic puzzles.

As for the middle of the film: It’s a dance number. That’s when Hiddleston steps in.

Compounding the peculiarity of The Life of Chuck is the question: Why is this song and dance sequence so important? The answer is for the movie to reveal, but it matters a lot. “The life of every human being is a constellation, as expressed in this film,” Hiddleston says. “There are certain moments which will burn most brightly as individual stars. Sometimes it feels like the world is going to hell in a handcart, and it’s full of pain and suffering, and it is—but there are moments of deep joy and deep connection.”

Hiddleston shows the audience this single moment in the life of a buttoned-up fellow who somehow controls the destiny of the world. It’s not necessarily the most important day in his life, but it’s a memorable one involving a street drummer (Taylor Gordon), a lovely stranger (played by Annalise Basso), and a fateful decision to cast aside caution and cut a rug. “It’s a reminder to do whatever it is that expresses whatever gives you that feeling of being alive,” Hiddleston says. “Whether it’s music or dancing or math or writing or creativity—do it. Do it now. Those moments are what you’ll remember.”

Flanagan considered casting a relative unknown as Chuck to “give the audience the experience of ‘Who the hell is this person?’” as the peculiar retirement signs begin to appear in the midst of the apocalypse. But he felt the promise of the Loki star would build more curiosity as the world falls apart. “You grow an enormous amount of anticipation to finally spend time with an actor like Tom, who can be a literal god in one story, and then an everyman in another,” Flanagan says.

A TikTok video of Hiddleston getting his groove on sealed the deal. “He had a completely unfiltered joy on his face,” Flanagan says. “He was a good dancer, but that wasn’t what struck me. I wasn’t amazed by the technique so much as the degree of happiness that was radiating off of him. The look on his face made me smile the same way I smiled reading that particular portion of the book.”

The resulting scene was created in a month-long collaboration between Flanagan, Hiddleston, Basso, choreographer Mandy Moore (So You Think You Can Dance, and La La Land), and Gordon, a real-life percussionist who performs under the name the Pocket Queen. “Taylor was there for all of the dance choreography. She wrote that piece of music for that performance. They built it together,” Flanagan says.

Hiddleston rattles off the lists of influences: “I had to learn in six weeks the full regime of any dance training. We did jazz, swing, salsa, cha-cha, the Charleston, bossa nova, polka, quickstep, samba. We were trying to tip our hat to anything that might have influenced Chuck. It might’ve had a bit of Gene Kelly or Fred and Ginger. Certainly moonwalking—Stephen King is very specific about the moonwalk.”

Precision was not the goal, exuberance was what they sought. “We need to always bear in mind that this man is an accountant. We needed this to be an earnest, escalating explosion of joy, and a remembrance of who he was,” Flanagan says. “It’s a chance to step back into the skin of his younger self, not caring that his feet are going to kill him the next day, not caring that he’s going to wake up with a horribly stiff neck.”

A surprising thing happened while shooting the scene over the course of several sweltering afternoons in the deep South. “I burned holes in my shoes,” Hiddleston says. “I was dancing out on the asphalt in Alabama, and by the time we’d finished, you could see my socks through the soles.”

The sequence begins awkwardly: Chuck is self-conscious as he first hears the busker’s rhythm while walking back from a banking conference. That feeling quickly gets shaken off. “Tom was very committed,” Flanagan says. “He was like, ‘If I look silly, that’s fine. As long as I look happy.’”

Flanagan remembers being in a bad place when he first discovered “The Life of Chuck.” Then again, everybody was.

His copy of the manuscript arrived in March 2020. “That was just as the world shut down for COVID,” he says. “We had been a week away from starting principal photography on Midnight Mass in Vancouver and had fled across the border before it closed to make it back to the States. We were hunkered down in our homes and had no idea if this was going to last for two weeks or if this was going to last forever.”

With everything halted as the lockdown set in, Flanagan had plenty of time to do nothing but read. The new King book seemed like the perfect escape. Except…

“The first third of ‘The Life of Chuck’ just rattled me,” he recalls. “There’s no way he wrote this before the world ground to this bizarre halt—but he did. And the feeling of anxiety, and uncertainty, and that everything was falling apart came roaring out at me. I wasn’t sure I could finish it. It just felt too close to the anxiety I was feeling.” But he kept turning the pages. “By the end of it, I was in tears, and incredibly uplifted, and convinced I’d read maybe the best thing that he’d written in a decade. I just was floored by the thing,” Flanagan says. “So I fired off an email to him right away saying how much I loved the story, how incredible I thought it was, how meaningful, and important, and how it had really tattooed itself on my heart and said, ‘It’s the movie I want to make so that it’ll exist in the world for my kids.’”

King’s response: Not so fast. Flanagan and his producing partner, Trevor Macy, had at that point secured the rights to King’s fantasy saga The Dark Tower through their company, Intrepid Pictures. The eight-book series is threaded throughout King’s other works, and adapting it was a massive undertaking that Flanagan is still working to make happen. Other filmmakers had either abandoned the project, were canceled midway through, or bombed miserably. The author didn’t want him to be distracted. “He doesn’t like to give the same filmmaker more than one thing, because it typically means one thing is not advancing at all,” Flanagan says. “He said, ‘Well, let’s focus on The Tower and I’ll try to keep this one available for you for later.’”

The quest to The Dark Tower remains a priority for Flanagan, but a number of disruptions to that epic undertaking led him to reapproach King last year about Chuck. Intrepid’s deal with Netflix, where they had created Hill House, The Haunting of Bly Manor, and other shows, had come to a close, and Intrepid signed a new development agreement with Amazon. That meant starting over on The Dark Tower. Meanwhile, the threat of a double-barreled strike by writers and actors was on the horizon, stalling nearly every major new project. The industry plunged into another production-halting lockdown, this time over contract impasses rather than a virus.

Since The Dark Tower was suddenly further off on the horizon, Flanagan saw a chance to make The Life of Chuck happen in the short term. “It’s so rare that I get to approach any project that just has not an ounce of cynicism to it. I just really believed in this thing,” he says. “But it was also clear that we would have an incredibly uphill battle bringing the story to any major studio. They would try to make it as familiar as possible, instead of leaning into what makes it so different.”

King gave Flanagan his blessing to proceed. “I was off like a shot,” the filmmaker says. “I think I turned in the draft to him before he got around to sending the formal agreement.”

For everyone involved, The Life of Chuck became a bright spot in an otherwise dismal time, which matches the theme of the film. “There is a profound optimism in this story,” Hiddleston says. “As the world is spinning off its axis, there are moments of magic.”

#the life of chuck #tom hiddleston #mark hamill #karen gillan #chiwetel ejiofor #jacob tremblay #kate siegel #mike flanagan #carl lumbly

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