#dominion tower

[sweetpea-sprite]

wait the wizard king is evil in dotdd??

hi anon. i've been putting off answering this ask for over a week. you know this. the thing about this ask is that i know. i KNOW. that if i answer this it will restart the cycle (lol) of me thinking about dotdd's wizard king and NOT STOPPING THINKING ABOUT IT for weeks if not months. i also think i've answered this before so technically i don't have to do this to myself but we all know i'm gonnaANGEL JUST DMED ME WITH A FIC SNIPPET ABOUT THIS VERY FUCKING THING. YOU'RE ALL TRYING TO DRASG ME BAVK IN I CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS AGAINNNNNN YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME I THOUGHT I WAS FREE!!!!!!!!!!!!! I THOUGHT I WAS FREE

just kidding i am never free ^-^ dotdd true ending spoilers under the cut

i don't even know where to start. like. i don't know. al-khemi's half human and his mother fucked a 10 story tall genie who can make buildings using alchemy?

that's the core concept of dotdd's postgame. is alchemising a building - moya tower - so that you can go to the top floor and defeat the evil wizard king. the wizard king who is evil. the wizard king who wants to be a god. the tower is 100 floors high; you get the key for the top floor from horace's final quest, where he reveals that he climbed the tower himself and tried to fight the wizard king, but was ultimately killed in battle. "ok ruby this all sounds cool but relatively normal in reference to wotww" WRONG! POPULAR FAN THEORY SAYS HORACE HAD A HUSBAND

("popular fan theory" means i came up with it because for a long long time i was the only english-speaking dotdd fan i knew and also separately i later discovered japanese fans came up with it so i'm basically correct and beautiful all the time always. anyway)

before we get into the miragapo trenches i do want to mention the evil shit the wizard king got up to here, most notably the fact that the three stone guardians are evil for real now, except cerboreas who turns out is just A DOG THAT THE WIZARD KING STOLE FROM A LITTLE KID. LIKE HE WAS A REALLY GOOD GUARD DOG SO HE JUST TOOK HIM. AND THE KID WENT INTO THE GLITTERING GROTTO TO FIND HIM AND GOT LOST AND DIED IN THERE. cerboreas's original name was grey. by the way. if you even care. also crossbones is a capitalist.? anyway

in dotdd there is a coliseum that is completely and entirely different to the solosseum in wotww. it's situated in del mokahl, a casino town (also unique to dotdd) and is sponsored by a man named giovanni gappolino, also known as the casino king. during the coliseum, you fight - alongside other opponents - nicky, your rival who is just deeply obsessed with oliver in a really. he's gay. so the prize for the coliseum ends up being a ticket to the next division of the coliseum, one where you fight all the great sages + solomon and umbopa + nicky as a fun surprise round where he tells you that mr gappolino is his dad and implies he's neglectful AFTER you beat him to a pulp just so you feel bad + finally giovanni gappolino himself.

after THIS division khulan comes out and reveals that giovanni is actually a sage who has been around since the wizard king was sealed by a deity. he has been masquerading as a rich man playing with his toys when in reality he has been desperately searching for someone strong enough to take down the wizard king for real this time, by running the coliseum and waiting for someone to get through it all.

we are not given a reason for why he is doing this. this is an appropriate time to mention horace's "friend".

when you meet horace in hamelin (notably, the town directly after meeting him in del mokahl; also notably, in del mokahl he gets especially frustrated about not having all his memories back and he and oliver get into a small fight about it) he's very excited because he remembers that he had a friend! and they went up a tower together! and they were besties! "an amazing, dependable, wonderful friend!" that's what he says! sounding a bit gay there horologium.

anyway. you can see the pieces slot into place. horace and giovanni climbed the tower together. they got to the top. they confronted the wizard king. he was sealed. giovanni made it back. horace did not. at some point during this whole process they probably explored each other's bodies. hopefully not after the death ! and then giovanni spent a thousand years trying to find someone who could avenge him.

they drive me fucking nuts and they're based on a theory that isn't even canon. do you understand what miragapo does to me. are you kidding? guy who has been trying to avenge his dead husband for a thousand years? AND he's a neglectful father? COME ON

...so that's the miragapo side of things. um. you asked about the wizard king. sorry you now know about the miragapo agenda

SO. you climb to the top of moya tower. you use the key that horace gave you. you get to the top.

it looks cool as hell. you walk forward to confront the wizard king, and mornstar, in oliver's hand, reacts to the presence of astra, in the wizard king's hand. you fight. his attacks follow a very specific pattern. when you whittle his health down, he gets a second phase where his attacks turn more unpredictable. also, he looks cool as hell

you defeat him. you go through the victory screen and discover that it's just oliver, no drippy esther or swaine, with the wizard king. and it gets horrifying and fun.

the wizard king gives oliver astra and teaches him how to use the spell, remarking that he won't be needing it anymore. oliver furrows his brow. and asks why he wanted to become a god. and he responds:

"hmm. i forgot. why did i want to rail against the heavens? i wish i knew. i've forgotten all of those things... it must be the fault of that... throne. or else... heh heh... perhaps it was you who caused me to forget...?"

he turns to oliver and starts to fade away, as all the other ghosts in the game have done. and he says to oliver - who still holds astra: "here... is where our shadows went. in order to figure out the mysteries of magic, for all curious wizards... i'm sure that will come in handy as you try to surmount the final hurdle."

"and so... you have become a fountain overflowing with power, you foolish young man."

and then he fades. and oliver's friends come back. and they celebrate the defeat of the wizard king, and oliver's new wand. and as they turn to head back down the tower, the scene lingers on oliver's laugh for a moment - and then pans up to the empty throne, with the giant eye above it looking directly at oliver. and then the credits roll.

this is what drives me fucking insane. in both wotww and dotdd, oliver has both wands; by all means, he should be the new wizard king. in wotww you don't really think about it too hard because the wizard king is a good guy, so oliver will end up like him; in dotdd it MAKES you think about it too hard because OLIVER WILL END UP LIKE HIM.

oliver's fate at the end of dotdd is unknown, but it's constantly said that he has a choice, and it's constantly implied that he will choose badly. there's more evidence for this throughout the game as well, a bunch of small things that seem innocent enough but kill you if you know what they're referring to. there's a fortune teller in hamelin who tries to read oliver's fortune and comes up confused because she can't, and remarks she's "never gazed into the future of one of his ilk". there's a skeleton in coconanda who wishes for oliver to live for a thousand years or more. by far the most prominent of these comes from nicky in the coliseum, who at one point asks oliver, "we have both hope and hopelessness waiting for us, don't we? which one do you want to hold onto, oliver?". hell, the ENTIRE COLISEUM you are competing for PANDORA'S BOX. THAT'S WHAT THE PRIZE IS. AND OLIVER OPENS IT AT THE END and gets a mandragorer out of it BUT THE POINT IS THAT IT'S PANDORA'S BOX!!!!!! THE BOX THAT CONTAINS ALL THE HOPE AND HOPELESSNESS OF THE WORLD. YOU KNOW PANDORA'S BOX. and if you've played wotww's own postgame you will know that the conductor very specifically calls out oliver's curiosity as a large trait of his. if you know anything about the myth of pandora's box you will know that she opened it because she was MADE TO BE CURIOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

however. you won't believe this but there's more. the most damning piece of evidence we have for this outside of the wizard king himself is actually the only thing we have officially translated, because it's in the wizard's companion - both of them! it made it to wotww's companion, so they translated it! on page 282-283 of wotww's companion, there is an illustration depicting the wizard king.

this is actually depicting dotdd's wizard king; at the end (read the story starting top left, then circle back around) you can see the wizard king attempting to get into heaven using a ladder, but being pushed out, followed by the moya eye and him sitting on the throne. you can also see that the magic he's putting out in the middle... isn't exactly friendly. in any case - there is nazcaan around the edges! it reads:

On the first day a wand will be held aloft; On the second day lightning will arc; On the third day a storm will rage; On the fourth day the earth will be rent asunder; On the fifth day a great wave will crash; On the sixth day flames will dance; On the seventh day a blizzard will howl; And on the eighth day a new king will bring the light; And the world shall kneel before him.

first of all: earlier i mentioned the wizard king's first phase in dotdd follows a specific pattern. this is the pattern! he follows this prophecy! he repeats this pattern over and over! it's really neat.

second of all holy fucking shit it's a cycle and he repeats it over and over.

the prophecy loops perfectly. the wizard king gives astra to oliver and effectively crowns him the new king. it's a LOOP!!!!!!!!!! the ouroboros (or oroboros. lol) consumes its own tail. oliver is prophecised to be the next wizard king and absolutely 100% it is not guaranteed that he will be evil. it is not guaranteed that he will fall to hopelessness. but HOLY SHIT it looks like that's what's going to happen.

and to loop back around to miragapo and nicky. because they're everything to me. i didn't even go off on a long tangent about nicky this post! i just mentioned him briefly! are you all proud of me. too bad i'm about to break it. the miragapo nickiver parallels... augh. what would you do if you found a kid to avenge your dead husband after a thousand years and he manages it only to then go on to become what you were trying to beat. AND your kid is in love with him and is the only one able to stand up to him. like what do you do in that situation. because truly i believe nicky wouldn't let oliver do that without a fight. they have a whole entire coliseum-based arc about which of them is going to be the one to defeat the wizard king. you think oliver's gonna BECOME the next wizard king and nicky's gonna take that LYING DOWN? NO. this is why nickiver does cocomelon shit to me

anyway. toooooo answer your question. yeah he is. ...and so is oliver, probably.

...i do really think we look over the "al-khemi is half human and his mother fucked a frankly too big genie" thing too often it's just that the rest of it is so Like That that you truly just forget

[faircastle]

i just love the hightowers in their... high tower. rapunzels all of them, especially their queen in chains.

[flojector]

this symmetry filter on this pic makes me think of sutro tower in san francisco

[came-out-of-the-coffin-desisted]

my haaaaaands are still fucked uuuuuup but when they’re unfucked up i’m gonna draw smth so sexy and delicious for my new skyrim oc i can see the comp in my mind’s eye it’d just make my hands fall off if i tried to draw it

[fideidefenswhore]

Is it true that COA had more of a claim to the English throne than Henry or his father did?

only to C/OA stans…

[rabbitcruiser]

Downtown Calgary (No. 5)

The heritage value of Calgary Fire Hall No. 1 lies chiefly in its historical and architectural significance for its association with the history of firefighting in Alberta, its connection to James "Cappy" Smart, and its excellent representation of an early twentieth-century, urban fire station.

Built in 1911 to replace Calgary's first Fire Headquarters, which had been erected in 1887, Calgary Fire Hall No. 1 represented advances in fire-fighting characteristic of the pre-war boom in Alberta. Emerging urban areas throughout the west had marked their transition from early settlement communities to more densely populated towns and cities by shifting from buildings constructed predominantly of wood to much more fire retardant structures erected of brick and stone. In the cities, fire departments were making the change from primarily volunteer bucket brigades to professionally trained, paid, and mechanized forces. Important figures such as James "Cappy" Smart, Calgary's first full-time fire chief, spanned the whole era of this historical development. As such, Smart personally participated in the planning of Fire Hall No. 1, and led Calgary's fire fighters from their headquarters there until his retirement in 1933. The station was in continuous use as a fire hall until 1973.

Architecturally, Calgary's Fire Hall No. 1 embodies several elements desirable in state-of-the-art urban fire halls of the period, and stands as one of the premier examples of this building type in Alberta. Designed by architects Lang and Major, the building was designed with a growing city in mind in terms of size and required facilities. Significantly, the building is oriented diagonally towards the street corner, enabling efficient access and ease of departure. Fire Hall No. 1 includes five wide bay doors, and the necessary hose tower required to hang and dry the canvas hoses in use throughout the early to mid-twentieth century. The large central garage area accommodated Calgary's first fire trucks. Additional spaces such as offices, bedrooms, and lounges provided room to accommodate fire fighters in a state of readiness for their tasks. With its highly identifiable facade, the building has become a well known city landmark.

Source

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Series Masterlist

Word count: 2,300+

Synopsis: He couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in his dreams. The way he had you wrapped around his body as a marionette in his minds, dancing for them as he awoke to sticky blankets when he jolted upright. His thoughts got the better of them, and he wanted to make them a reality.

Warnings: king x afab!reader, size difference, monsterfucking, wet dreams, NSFW, MDNI, 18+, smut, grinding, degradation, praise, (pet names: little star, little one, pet, slut), masturbation, size kink, bukkake, dubcon, masturbating while listening to masturbating. It does not fit.

Notes: This one got away with me. First time writing for King. There is a large size difference.

Sitting on a large throne within the dark room, the lunarian King took residency over his dominion. Wisps of smoke-like vapors flooded the outer perimeter as you approached the giant bench made for kneeling. Your gown lay in a deep ‘v’ cut down to your naval, dual leg slits rising to your hip bones on either leg. Holding your head high, you held your arms out either side of you as you looked down your nose at him and hardened your quaking emotions.

Helmet lain askew by his side, he beckoned you in closer with a coax of his large finger. “Closer, little star. Don't be shy. A little closer for me.”

He watches as your eyes drift down to his other hand, wrapped around his cock and slowly pistoning the hard shaft within his soft, vice-like grip. The length of his cock was almost the height of your body from the balls of your feet, to the tip of your diaphragm. His girth was the width of your torso, thick and veiny while throbbing in deep desire.

Not ignoring the bob in your throat at such a request, he allowed a low growl to pass through his lips at your hesitation.

“I will not ask again, pet,” his lips curled back as he snarled at you, the creases in his eyes at his deep furrow warning you of the danger you were in at this request. “You wanted this. You asked for this. You said you would do it,” he rose from the seat, towering over you at his full height, “So do it.”

Gulping back your fear of the right hand of Kaido, you nod at him and slowly approach his throne, ushering him down with a soft and calm gesture of your hands. He sighed out through his nose, slouching back into his seat with a gruff huff, lazily fisting at his cock as he watched your sultry approach.

Reaching up to the mid of your gown, you tugged at the drawstring and revealed your bare form to him while attempting to conceal your joy at the small shudder in his jaw at your appearance. Bare for his eyes only, you nodded at him and slowly walked up the steps towards the throne.

“What made you make such a lewd suggestion, little star?” He asked, reaching his hand out towards you as you approached. You tilted your head to the side, almost brushing your scalp against the tip of his cock as you stood between his legs.

“Curiosity,” you utter with a soft hum. Looking down through the corner of your eyes, he noticed you assessing his size as you stood beside his cock. He noticed how close it was in size to you, his lips curling up into a smirk as he compared the size of his tip to your head. You playfully stood flush beside it for him to make the true comparison.

“And is your curiosity satisfied?” he asked, releasing your fingers from his hand and reclining back onto the seat. You hum in falsified thought, tapping your chin before you reach for his cock and giving it a gentle caress.

“Almost,” you smirk back at him, mirroring his dark playfulness to match his energy. “How do you want me?” You ask, truly curious while looking around the room. It was his turn to him in thought, never thinking about the technicalities of such a tryst, only the desire that came from the request.

“When you're alone, how do you picture me? On-top of you, beneath you, above you, below you?” He smirked, noticing your fluster as you bit your lip, “I know you do, pet. Talk to me.” You gulp back as he stoops lower.

“Do you grind yourself down, pressing that pretty cunt into your hand or pillow, and rock your hips like a needy little slut?” He huskily purred at you, watching the heat rise in your face and bottom lip quiver, “Or do you lie on your back and use those little digits to roll your clit against them until your back arches. C’mon, little star. Tell me what you like to do when you picture me.”

You gulp, stuttering in your mind before words could even form coherent strings between your lips. His grin widens at your silence, toying and fussing at your bare skin with his fingers.

“Or maybe you like to stand, hm? Stand up with your legs parted on your tip-toes while you picture my fat cock pistoning through them?” your breath hitches at the filth pouring from his lips, not escaping your notice how his cock bobs and twitches at each suggestion. “C'mon, little one, talk to me. Tell me how you picture me when you think about riding my cock. There is no way it will fit inside you, so you better tell me-.”

“-I like grinding,” you hurriedly confess, finally stifling your nerves enough to inform the gargantuan of your preferences, “I like being on top and rolling my hips down. I like the feeling of my clit being overwhelmed by every rocking movement I make against my hands, or a pillow.” King chuckles and leans back in his chair with a deep sigh in gratuity, pumping his shaft in languid motions.

“Go on, pet. What happens, hm?” he prodded you, causing you to nod at him as you continue.

“I like to picture you as you are here, sat on a chair with your cock in your palm,” you profess your desires to the larger man without shame, approaching him with intentional strides, “I like to picture me straddling your cock and gliding my slick pussy against your shaft while you use me. Taking me in both hands and using my body to masturbate with.” He grinned at you, his eyes darkening as a deep growl purred from the pit of his gut.

“And then?” he continued, his hands picking up, pinching the blunt tip of his cock as his arousal pooled from the head of his cock and began to gather in his digits.

“Then, I picture your cum painting my body from head to toe,” you whisper your final confession while placing soft kisses to his hot shaft, “And then I cum so fucking hard I see stars. I cry for you.” He growled, halting his motions and circling your waist with one of his hands.

“That sounds marvelous. But with two slight adjustments,” he easily hoisted you in the air without effort, drawing you up to his face as he purred at you. “One: you're going to be beneath me. I want to see those pretty eyes roll back in your skull when you cum.”

You whimper as he moves you down to his cock, parting your thighs and mediately slotting himself against you.

“And, two:” he moved your arms and legs to hook around him from beneath and lock you in place by your own arms, “You're going to cum before me. Got that? You're gonna cum so fucking hard for me, everyone's gonna hear you scream.”

In one hand alone, he rocked your body against his hot shaft. The veins of his underside ground themselves against your glistening pussy and caused you to cry out. This was far better than anything you had ever imagined of him, or attempted to stimulate yourself on. No grinding pad, vibrator, hands, other cocks or pillows had come close to the throbbing cock currently wrapped within the grasp of your body.

Rocking his hips, he ensured your ass and thighs were supported by his smallest and unity fingers. Your back was circled by his index and middle while he pressed his palm up against your hips to ensure you were flush against him.

“Keep-... Fuck-... Keep your arms wrapped around me, little star,” he ordered, continuing to use your body to grind onto himself with. “Legs too. Lock them at the ankles and grind that pretty cunt against me. I can feel how slick you are. How wet you are for me.”

You let out a soft mewl in protest to his words, but the feeling of his thick cock was too good on you to care. Doing as he asked, you clasped your ankles together while embracing his shaft by circling them around him. His tip was so close to your face, you could see how much desire he had for you in the soft pearlescent dewdrop expelling itself from his slit.

Rocking your hips in time with his slow motions, you felt your chest and ass ripple with each motion. Continuing to grind into him, soft gasps and groans flew from Kings lips at each piston.

Finally growing tired of the languid pace, he circled his other hand against you and thrust his hips up in time with his desperate thrusts. Huffing and panting, his wings fluttered behind him as he began to desperately seek out his satisfaction by using your body. The sloppy claps echoed throughout the room each time he bucked his hips up into you, the tip of his cock grinding against your face before your ass would slap against his balls beneath him.

Each time your ass clapped against his balls, his pitch would get higher and more desperate. The chant of: “fuck, fuck, fuck,” spilt from his lips alongside your name as he continued to use your body to chase his own satisfaction. Deciding to add more to his pleasure, you parted your lips to kiss the swollen tip of his cock each time your face met with it. Rolling your tongue and mouthing at him, you could feel your desire pool in the pit of your belly and coil tighter.

Throwing his head back, his pace quickened. If your ankles were not locked together, you would've been all over the place with floppy legs at the amount of pleasure the pressure was sending you. Growing erratic, he gazed back down at you and snarled through dangerous eyes.

“You better cum, little one. Cum for me. Be a good little slut and cum on my cock like this,” he barked, thrusting his hips up to punctuate his order. You whimpered as your body felt ignited with pleasure, only needing one more thing to truly set your own hunger alight.

“Cum on me, King. I need you to cum on my face and use my body to meet your high. I promise I'll cum, please,” you begged him, causing his breath to hitch as he continued to rock your much smaller head against his sensitive tip and frenulum while your body ground itself against his veiny shaft.

“You want me to fucking cum? I'll cum for you, little slut. Tongue out, n-now,” he staggered, his orders shooting sparks of lighting down your body and weaving the coil tighter in your stomach. As you lulled your tongue out, his eyes rolled back and his cock twitched with desperation.

“F-Fuck, I'm gonna-!” was all the warning he gave you before ropes of his release flooded your face and dripped down your torso, adding that final wave of lust to shoot lighting into your body. As his cum struck your face, lighting shot through you as your vision snapped white.

“K-King!” you screamed, your pussy twitching as you gushed on his cock. The friction added to your ecstasy as his cum continued to pool from his tip and overwhelm you with his viscous lust.

“Nghh- cumming-, fuck, fuck, take it. Take my cum, little star. Take it,” he barked at you, his feral desire to mark you with his cum as you screamed and mewled on his cock in time with your release grew more and more. Calling your name and chasing his high, he both degraded you and praised you for being so good and listening. Your little whimpers and whines set him off more, the peak of his release overwhelming your senses as it dripped down his base.

As he looked down at your body covered in cum, his vision faded into dark whisps. The shadows from the room engulfed you within and he shot himself upright.

Finding himself alone in his room had him roar in rage. Peeling back the blankets, he noticed his cock was twitching as his waistband now stuck to his abdomen with the sticky coat of shame trickling down his abdomen. He was overwhelmed at the knowledge that he called your name in his sleep, his dream conjuring up your image to tempt him with…

…and the fact he liked it so much.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging his hand down and beginning to ride out the final waves of his dream by calling your name and grinding his cock into his palm. A pathetic final spurt released from his tip as his orgasm was already spilt within his pants. Groaning out a soft whine, he shamelessly used your name as he pictured those final moments of your body on his cock.

Eyes blissed out, arms and legs braced against him, tongue lulled and covered in his cum. He needed that. He needed you. He was going to have you.

Moans from King's bedroom had your hand slipping down the front of your pants, your index and middle finger dancing against your body as soon as you heard him call your name. You knew you shouldn't be doing this, but the echos of his gruff moans were too hard for you to ignore. As he reached his high and called your name, you clapped your other hand over your lips as your body was ushered into your own ecstasy. Rocking your hips and stifling your silent scream in your palm, you came hard on your hand.

Removing your fingers from your pussy, you wiped them on your thigh to rid them of slick before turning away and scurrying back down the hallway towards your own room with haste.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ The Legend of a Faceless Harbinger

(Imagine Headless Horseman Capitano x reader. No, I won’t elaborate.)

✧ In an unassuming village nestled by a quaint, insignificant hamlet, you lived in a humble farmhouse. A modest living, with but a few sheep and a tightly held community. Everyone knew each other in the village, for its residents were few, fostering familiarity among its inhabitants and their whereabouts. 

The villagers liked tales of premonition and the paranormal – stories of vengeful Hilichurls, weeping Seelies, or berserk Witches who burn everything in their path. However, one of the legends was about a Faceless Knight, bloodstained and brooding, with a mighty steed supporting his towering frame. Legend has it that the Knight’s armor once shone silver and pristine, but after years of bloodshed and gruesome battles, the knight’s body shifted to that of a monster; the same ones he once swore to destroy. Now faceless, monstrous, and donning a void-like helmet - the Knight rides off into the night, galloping between the living and dead. 

✧ You, on the other hand, disregarded such gossip. If the night was scary because a headless knight reigned dominion over it, then why did you always find solace in it, when the sky is clear and the stars are shining? 

You lived by the outskirts and were content taking care of your small flock of chickens and sheep. You had your fresh bread, a small basket of eggs, and homemade dairy. In the early hours of dawn, you took care of your abode, small patches of vegetables sprouting by the sunlight. And in the late hours of dusk, you sat by the windowsill from your bedroom, gazing up at the stars above. 

Yet as you silently watched the night, a hidden figure, merging with the shadows gazed back at you. His horse neighed softly until a clawed hand patted its head. 

✧ One day, a couple of sheep wandered off from your farmhouse and went missing. The weather was cloudy and the gray clouds threatened a heavy pour if you didn't hurry and found your wandering flock. With your trusty shepherd's crook, you hurried off to run into the forest hoping you'd find them somewhere nearby.

Once you reached the wild forest, it didn't take long to spot your wandering sheep, running in the direction of their baaing. They huddled close by the bushes, grazing on the grass leisurely. You smiled in silent relief, reaching closer toward them until suddenly - you halted. Amidst the dense foliage, a figure emerged, and it dawned on you that your sheep were not simply loitering there by chance. They had been intentionally led here, and at the sight of the stranger, you tensed, clutching your trusty crook. A man on horseback drew nearer, his jet-black steed carefully moving. But the figure was even taller. Dark armor and clanking chains were not as imposing as the sight of his featureless, hollow helmet met you head-on.

It was the faceless Knight. He kept his distance, but his helmet directed straight at you, wordless and careful. With a slight incline of his head, he observed your sheep turning towards you, providing you the opportunity to safely guide your flock home. And as for you? You quivered like a lamb, petrified at the sight of a man of his stature, with only the murky depths of his helmet meeting your gaze.

Thus, you fled. Pushing your sheep hastily from the forest, you didn't look back at the mancing knight. Your heart hammered and you swiftly led your animals back to your farm, locking them in their barn and fearing for your own life. 

✧ In the upcoming days, you didn’t dare to exit your house’s safety. You were convinced that you were living your last days, however, nothing amiss occurred. Instead, things got better in your farmhouse. You don’t know why, but The animals scarcely strayed, the howls of wolves seldom pierced the night, and neither hilichurls nor bothersome slimes encroached upon your land.

You felt an air of change in your quaint farmhouse, despite your sense of alarm remaining after meeting the brooding Harbinger. 

Occasionally, at the earliest hours of dawn, when you get up, you are greeted with small flowers on the steps of the house. Sometimes it’s plucked lamp grass, and at other times it’s a wreath of valberry leaves. In a state of befuddlement, you’d blink, looking back and forth around your entrance. 

You had a secret protector, and your heart yearned to thank whoever that was. 

✧ If someone was leaving you small gifts of flora and guarding your house, it was only courteous to thank them. Therefore, you came up with a plan to leave a small assortment of items in a basket as a response. From time to time, by the footsteps of your house, you’d leave a basket with fresh apples. Sometimes, it would be a loaf of bread you baked. These signs of gratitude persisted, and in return, the gifts grew in magnitude. From small bouquets to rare artifacts and even warm pelts. 

The routine of offerings and gifts became a way of silent communication with your generous benefactor.

Until one late afternoon, you heard screaming right outside your farmhouse. You dashed out of the house and noticed that the usual basket was gone. You just had it filled with homegrown fruits and baked goods, yet it was missing entirely. When you turned your attention towards the commotion, you gasped in surprise at the sight.

The same faceless Knight, in his clad black armor, dragging a kicking peasant with a firm grip. The man was kicking and screaming in horror, his wrist already marred by the Harbinger’s grip. However, what surprised you, was that the basket was in his arms.

“Please let me go-! I didn’t know! I didn’t know to whom it belonged,” - the peasant was thrown hard onto the ground right in front of your feet, the basket and its good rolling out. 

“Lies are inexcusable. And stealing deserves its punishment.” 

The Harbinger spoke firmly, marching straight at the man. Overcoming your shock, you understood - this person stole the basket of food you left, but then the receiver who protected your farmhouse all this time is… 

You shook your head, and before the faceless entity could take a step closer to the thief, you stood with your arms out - “Wait!”

The Harbinger stopped in an instant, that faceless mask going silent as the armored hand tightly closed into a fist. The peasant was shaking behind you.

“It’s not worth it, just some homegrown food anyway. P-please, let this man go.” 

“He stole what you worked hard for. That which is not meant to be his.” 

“I know, but it is not a fair punishment to spill blood in return!”

The headless harbinger let out a low rumble, his massive form towering over you and the begging thief. After a prolonged moment of tense silence, he stated his verdict.

“You were lucky to be granted mercy. Heed my words, there won’t be a next time. Go.” 

The words were short but decisive, spoken out of pure malevolence towards the one who took your offerings that were intended for him. Crawling on his knees, the man shook and thanked you both for mercy, scurrying off the ground of your farmhouse and running away. 

✧ You kneeled by the fallen basket, picking up some of the flowers and fruits that rolled to the grassy ground. As you silently picked them up, you almost flinched when an armored hand appeared in front of you, offering you assistance to get up. When you raised your gaze - a hallow, pitch-black helmet looked back at you. 

You placed your hand delicately onto his.

“Excuse me, Mr… uh, Knight. I thank you for catching the thief and my goods. But may I ask: was it you who brought those gifts by the entrance of my house?”

He remains silent for a moment, and you couldn’t tell whether he was contemplating his answer or studying every nuance of your face up close. After a long moment, he slowly nods his head "Yes." 

A sigh of relief escaped you. Partly due to your fear of the frightening figure, but also because of your suspicion about who the unseen protector of your farmhouse was.

“Then it was you who kept my rural home safe from monsters or predators.” - you nodded, remembering how your flock of sheep was huddled close and safe even when they all got lost before. “You won’t hurt me…?”

“I could never. You have my vow.” 

His voice no longer held that firm animosity it did when he spoke to the thief. Now it was low and deep. His form helped you pick up the dropped belongings and walked you back to the farm.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a tranquil stillness enveloped the surroundings as you dutifully trailed behind him. A novel sense of anticipation washed over you, distinct from the usual apprehension. For the Harbinger, it was not his first time remaining close to the soil of your modest abode. In fact, he always remained nearby. However, he felt immense guilt for giving you such fright. 

“...I owe you an apology. I intruded on your ground when I caught the thief. But even less honorably so, I never revealed myself formally to you. I did not wish to see you scared.”  

You listened closely, witnessing the sincerity in his movements. You stood close to the pastors, the grass rustling idly by the night breeze. His ominous figure is a stark contrast to you and your cozy dwelling.

“I understand… I do not blame you. I must also apologize for my startled demeanor. I never expected it would be you who actually helped me all this time.” 

The knight tilts his head to the side, keeping a polite hand with yours as he lets you sit on the grass. Every movement he did for you was cautionary and gentle. The two of you sat on the ground, the night sky illuminating the first stars of the night. 

“I just wish to know… Why such kindness?” - you asked at last, easing up the courage to look him straight into the hollowness of his helmet. 

The anticipated question made the Harbinger go quiet. He couldn't deny it, but he found solace in watching you work. How diligently you took care of your animals, how you watered the vegetation, how you smiled joyously when you’d return with a basket full of fresh eggs. It was a tender sight, even as the harbinger maintained his distance on the forest's periphery, secretly yearning to draw nearer to you.

He wished to tell you so much. About how he finds you to be the loveliest person in all of these lands, the most sincere and hardworking. How he enjoys gazing at you the same way you gaze at the stars. Yet now, being in your proximity, the sight of your beauty up close had rendered his thoughts useless and all he could manage was:

"Perhaps I’m utterly infatuated by you."

[morgana-ren]

I DONT KNOW IF YOU WRITE FULL FICS BUT IF YOU DO PLEASE WIRTE ONE ABOUT TGAT LAST ASK.

Just about Astarion sitting in his throne of sorts, in the palace, with tav sitting in his lap. He’s bored, tav sits there- dissociating and wishing they were anywhere else. He asks them if they’d like to do something fun and they say something like “Only if you do my lord” and he saddens some, expecting them to come up with something fun like they used to but they can’t think of anything that he would approve of them doing after so many years of breaking them down and he realizes it’s gotten so dull because tav was the person that brightened his life

"Awfully dull today, hmm? How would you like to do something fun, my love?"

It's an oh-so rare quiet day in the Crimson Palace, and his favorite source of amusement sits placidly on his lap, silent as the grave and still atop him. Content as he is in the peaceful quiet with solely her company, he'd spend the day with her doing– well, something, surely. It’s been a while since they’ve had any time to themselves to truly enjoy each other’s company alone. In fact, he cannot recall the last time with any distinct accuracy.

It seems so terribly long since they've had any time to themselves. Being a Lord keeps you awfully busy.

In a tender moment, he reaches forward to brush a stray strand of hair out of her face and behind her ear with a long, pale finger. She doesn’t react save a slight instinctual flicker of her lashes. Not a hint of expression on her face. He expects her to lean into his touch as she used to and is almost shocked when she does not.

Odd, he thinks. She hardly even seems to notice anything at all.

It’s almost like she isn’t entirely present.

Still, before he can chastise her, she responds to his bid for her attention.

"If that is your wish, my lord,” She responds to his question, lifeless and monotone. Perfectly obedient, just as befits her, and yet—

He frowns, just a little. It irks him, but now that he thinks about it, he cannot recall the last time he saw enthusiasm on her face– or much of anything at all aside from the blank, hollow mask she has now. Completely impassive and unresponsive in a cruel sort of practiced indifference. 

He studies her for a moment and comes to the conclusion that it reminds him of the robots they found in that strange tower in the Underdark so long ago. Programmed to respond to the right things and make the right moves, but utterly incapable of acting on her own whims. Eternally awaiting instruction. 

Empty. Robotic. Precise and yet disingenuous somehow. Eerily so.

Has she been like this before? Has he simply not noticed?

Perhaps she just needs to awaken a little more. It was such a long night, and he had kept her remarkably busy. She must be exhausted, but surely, she will perk up. She always does. 

Doesn’t she?

“Come, darling. What would you like to do?” He jostles his knees, dandling her on his legs like one might a small, particularly grumpy child. She bumps up and down, only reaching to steady herself on the sides of his throne. 

“Whatever would please you would please me, my lord.”

He groans, rolling his red eyes, a very sudden burst of irritation bubbling in his gut. Always with the My lord, My lord, scraping and bowing like some sort of indentured serf. Proper respect is important, of course, but for the first time in a while— longer than he can honestly think back on, to be honest— they are entirely alone. He is her Lord, yes, but she knew him by another name once– did know him by another name. She knows better than to tease him in front of his vassals but surely—

He can’t remember the last time she said his name. 

His real name. 

How long since he has truly sat by her side and talked with her? Spent time with her? He's been so busy, laying plans and waste, conquering and shedding blood of those who oppose him. The Lord Tyrant, come to rule over his dominion of Eternal Night. She is always by his side, never straying and yet— 

(“I love you, Little Star,” She’d laugh, planting a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose, which would promptly crinkle in annoyance. 

“I’m not ‘Little Star,’ and I’ll never understand why you insist on calling me that.” 

“That’s what your name means, doesn’t it? Little Star? Or perhaps Little Starlight– I don’t really remember.”

“Then why make that my pet name?" He rolls his eyes, annoyed at the use of his own childish moniker that follows him like a shadow to anyone who speaks even a lick of his native language. "Of all the things your brilliant little mind can concoct, you give me a child’s handle? I’m strong, dashing, capable, handsome, fearsome– but instead you choose that absurdity” 

“Because you’re my little star!” And she would smile so brightly that it seemed impossible in the darkness, and he could not help but smile himself. “My light in the darkness. My Astarion, for as long as you want to be. And I love you.” 

His expression would soften once again and he would simply sigh, pulling her close to kiss her temple. The night was cold, but she was so impossibly warm against him, somehow fitting perfectly in his lap and into his heart, where she’d wormed her way in against his own will. The dim firelight reflects in her eyes as she tells him again that she loves him forever if he’ll have her, and he can think of nothing he’d desire more than to ride out the endless night of eternity with her here on his lap, cradled close.)

Something gnaws at him. Something raw and edged with a vicious sort of misery he’d done so well to avoid in ages. He cannot place it but as he looks at her, his stomach is as a dark, abyssal pit, circling and swelling like a maelstrom. 

Something is wrong.

He cannot place the negative emotion, and so he does as he always does now, making the strange yearning her responsibility to soothe. 

He lashes out at her. 

“I’m growing bored,” He says with a cold, cruel edge to his voice. “You know how much I dislike boredom, don't you, darling?"

What he seeks is a reaction. A sudden spark of life from within her. For her to grab his hand and take him to do— to do something. Surely—

And yet, with a motion so fluid that it implies an aged and practiced skill, she slides from his lap down to her knees before him, reaching towards the laces of his breeches. There is nothing behind her eyes as she extends her hand forward to unlace him, hardly even seeing him. Nothing at all. 

“What are you doing?” He slaps her hands away, scowling down at her, taken back by her brashness. 

“You said you were bored, my Lord.”

“And why would you think–” 

Because that is what he’d taught her. 

That her body was built for his amusement; his temple to defile at will. Because of the cold nights in the castle after so many years where he would reach for her, and she would quiver and shake her head with eyes rimmed red and puffy and beg to be left untouched and yet he would speak the words without thinking and she would bend for him any way he wished. 

Because even as she would obey, she would cry and turn away, and he would give it little thought until one night the crying and protesting simply stopped. He thought she had learned. Made peace with her duties and loyalty to him and what it entailed. Mayhaps she had come to realize that her theatrics had little impact on him and surely, he wasn’t so wretched to her now that these waterworks were necessary. His touch could not repulse her so that her weeping was remotely acceptable. She loves him, surely she—

Because he would command her until she would kneel, and so now, she kneels without command.

He sighs, breathing the fire from his lungs, reaching down to pull her back up into his lap. She does not respond, only obeys in kind to his guiding instruction as he settles her back down on his legs. He finds a semblance of patience from within himself which is a strange and unusual feeling, mustering it up to once again ask:

“My dear, what is it that you would like to do?” 

Her head cocks. She does not understand. 

"What would you enjoy? If you had the freedom to do anything, what might it be?"

It takes a moment, but for the first time, a reaction: Confusion. It is slow to take hold but becomes blaringly apparent as it does. It is not as if she doesn’t know the answer, but almost as if she doesn’t understand the question. 

“Whatever you would like to do, my Lo–”

“No, no, darling. What is it you would like to do?” He impresses, harsher this time, and she flinches, recoiling from… something. 

From him.  

If her heart was still capable of beating, he'd be able to hear the way it pumps into overdrive. As it stands, he cannot, but he is aware no less. Her scent changes entirely around him to something that has his brows furrowing. Shortness of breath, dilating pupils, hands beginning to quake— Adrenaline. Steel-edged anxiety. As if this is not a question at all, but rather a test and she does not know the answer, and failure means his displeasure and his displeasure means–

"I— What would you—" She hard-swallows, harrowed by the open-endedness of the question. "—I want what—"

("Come to the meadow with me, Asto," She would grab his hand with a mischievous smile when their compatriots were fast asleep, tugging him up from the comfort of his bedroll. "I want you to come with me."

"It's late, darling. Wouldn't you rather come here and lie with me?" He would try to tug her back down playfully, but would fall against her aggressive temerity, being pulled to his feet through her sheer will. She would stifle her giggling with a hand as she guided him past their slumbering companions, through the tree line and deep into the forest. 

"Come on, lazy boy, come! Come with me!"

"Well, I'm trying to—"

She would hush him and yank him by the wrist, out into the field where he'd first had her, down once more into a bed of wildflowers and long grass. Her melodic laugh like a strange song as she yanks him to the ground despite his weak protests until she would lie her head on his chest and trace gentle patterns on his white shirt against his flexed chest. 

"We don't have to come all the way out here to make love, darling—" He would move to try to kiss her, but she would adamantly press her head against his torso, insisting he stay down in the dirt with her. 

"I'm not trying to seduce you," She would giggle, pointing at the star-spangled sky. "I want to lie under the stars with you." 

"But… why?"

"Because I know we'll have eternity to do it, but it's my favorite moon tonight and it reminded me of you."

He squints, struggling to find anything different about it at all. "I don't notice anything, darling. It looks very much like the moon we see every night." 

"It's so full and bright! Look at the rays!" She holds her hand out as if to cradle a silvery moonbeam in her palm. "It reminds me of the color of your hair." 

She reaches over him to delicately pluck something from the grass, tucking it gingerly behind his ear after she does so. "These poppies are the same beautiful deep red of your eyes in the moonlight. I feel safe here; home, with you. I just wanted to enjoy it for a moment. Just the two of us."

He would wrap his arms around her waist, squeezing so tightly that she would gasp and worm about, trying to return the favor, and yet he would not relent. 

"I want you to feel safe with me," he would whisper into her hair, desperately trying to memorize the scent of it, as if expecting Bhaal himself to come and steal her from his frantic embrace. "Now and forever, I want to feel home in your arms, with you.")

He thinks, for a moment, to return to that meadow, and that perhaps his love— the one he remembers— will return to him. As if her ghost still lingers there, trapped and waiting to be rescued. 

He can’t. 

It is not a meadow any longer, but a battlefield, not unlike the vile destruction left in Ketheric's wake at Raithewait; another one in a million places sacrificed in his conquest for glory, littered with bodies and bones. A graveyard tribute to his power, scorched soil and dead grass. No flowers bloom there anymore— there is nowhere for them to bloom between the suffocating aura of death. 

All that is left is a beautiful memory buried beneath a river of dried blood, and you cannot water flowers with dried blood or wean them on bone dust. That meadow is one moment suspended in time as trapped in amber, impossible to claw free from its temporal prison. He cannot remember the last time he saw that jovial smile she had saved just for him in that damned meadow. 

He cannot recall the last time she said the words "I love you" and cried his name as a preternaturally beautiful siren song without being commanded. 

He frowns, feeling something strange and haunting in his chest. Something viciously clawing up his throat as he looks at her: at her empty red eyes that were once the most beautiful color, full of love and life when she looked upon him; at her contorted expression that used to be as radiant as the sun and he could have sworn that her light could have sustained him through the dark, miserable nights of his eternal curse if only she was by his side; at the frailty of her body that almost seems to creak and break beneath his weight. 

"My love, look at me."

And she does, if not by command, then by instinct. 

"Smile for me, will you? Can you do that for me?" 

And she does, her lips turning upward and raising to reveal two sharp teeth— and nothing more. It's uncanny and revolting and wrong. There is nothing behind her eyes, nothing at all. No light, no life, and certainly no love. 

He used to be able to see himself in her eyes. How her heart sang for him, cheeks blossoming with blood at the sight of him. He could hear her heart rabbit behind her ribs, her hands quaking with excitement to touch him even in the most innocent of ways. Through her eyes, he found his own value— his own worth— and finally began to understand that he deserved love; he deserved happiness. She had healed him, giving almost all of herself to do it, selflessly and without asking for anything in return even as he despised himself and refused his own agency—

And she stares at him now with soulless eyes, he is left to wonder if he has taken too much from her in his quest to take everything. Wonders if she will ever be that lovestruck, moon-eyed girl again, wanting nothing more than to lie under the moonlit meadow with him. If she will ever kiss his eyelids as a delicate butterfly and whisper eternity in his ear. If she will ever feel safe and home and loved around him again in his embrace–

Save she is no longer quaking with anticipation at his touch, but trembling from fear, lost and terrified at the posing of a simple question. Her scent is foreign even as it is familiar and he cannot recall when it began to change. There is something in her eyes that haunts him, and though he can see himself within him, what stares back is not him. A terrible realization rakes knives down his soul, a gaping maw threatening to swallow him whole. A tightening in his lungs, and even as he does not breathe, he does not believe he could even if he tried. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lord?” 

Her face is impassive once more. Perfect porcelain expression. Not a crack in the mask. Not a wrinkle in the facade. Practiced day in and day out until it becomes real. He remembers it well.

How long has it been? How long since he has looked at her? Truly looked at her? Spoken to her? Told her he loved her? 

Showed her he loves her?

When was the last day he did not command from her that which she begged not to willingly give?

He cannot remember. He cannot recall. 

He demanded and she had no choice but to give. More and more and more. He drained her dry and now where was once his sacred oasis, there is nothing at all. No matter how long he looks, there is never a flicker of anything in her glassy eyes. 

He wonders if even as he has gotten everything he has ever wanted, he lost the one thing he needed. 

It paralyzes him. For the first time in an ageless eternity, he feels something: Panic. 

Even his endless power cannot bring her back. His beloved is dead, and he has killed her. Upon him sits a pretty corpse, empty and devoid of all that made her her. A doll with her face. A doll with barely even that. 

Her laugh, her smile. Her passion and desire and love. The tenderness inside of her and the warmth she once held. Everything that pulled him from his shell and showed him how to love once more. He bloomed in her light– and then snuffed it out entirely. 

How long has it been? How long has she been gone?

Though she may be undying, he realizes with horror akin to a dawning sun that she is gone– and has been for some time. 

“You seem stressed, my Lord? How can I make you happy again?”

Second part of the story HERE

[yuriisclumsy]

After I read that Cale x flirty reader!!..I screamed..Like oh my!!.. Can I make a request where is the enemy to lovers?.. Like the reader is a villain who likes to flirt with Cale every time they meet. In addition, this reader is shameless.. Definitely a mess dan chaotic 🤣🤣🤣.. And the reader kisses Cale on the cheek before she leaves saying 'Next time we meet, I'll ask for the size of your ring finger, Bye baby.".. I want to see Cale and the many reactions too..Bye author

Take care of yourself 😘

Villains Have a Heart Too, Y'know

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,355

»»►When I got this request I was surprised many people liked Flirty Reader!

»»►I went off a bit from the request, but what can I do? When a good plot just pops up I have to follow it, no matter if it has little to do with the request. Still, I do try to make it as closely to the asker's request.

»»►I feel like, for this scenario, it would take place in the Whooper Kingdom–you’ll know why once you read.

»»►On another note, [Name] has had encounters with Cale ever since he somehow got transmigrated into the world of Birth of a Hero. The man is tired. But let’s be real, when is he not?

»»►Cale just has to deal with another headache-giving-maniac sadly.

Metals were crashing.

The clash between steel signified a battle taking place. Brutal forces wrestle against each other for dominion. 

Fighting for power. It has always been like this.

Walls and towers, buildings–whether high or low–cumbled due to the aggressiveness of battle. Many scurried off to safety, finding a safe place to hide until the warfare concluded with its victors.

In the Whopper Kingdom, where mages were deemed to be spans of evil, stood a woman of great talent. She was a genius in her field, with masses tittling her: “The Grand Magician.”

The Grand Magician had been a force not to be reckoned with ever since her ascension through the Magic Tower. Which is why she is the main target for the Rebellion; Toonka's sworn enemy.

“Come back here witch!” a wounded man yelled.

“Awww, is little Toonka unable to land a hit?” the girl said. She giggled at the man’s inability to harm her.

“Why, you little sh-t! AHHH!” The man–Tookan–charged at her with fists fully ready to punch her. He missed by a large margin.

“You missed me!~” the girl taunted Toonka. She had been flying on a broom this whole time, using spells to her advantage, without fully killing the barbaric man. She had the power to eliminate her opponent, but she found more joy from playing with her food.

She laughed at Toonka’s poor excuse of attacks.

“Get down here you demon-incarnate!”

“My my, that insult is far too sophisticated for you! Did you finally grow a brain?”

“I alway had a brain you b-tch!” Toonka leaped in the air in anger, and missed her once again.

“What foul language,” the mage manifested a staff, “I should teach you some manners!” Twirling her staff summoned a ray of spells; casting lighting in the field—all which Toonka managed to avoid. How lucky.

“Damn you woman!” Toonka screamed as he barely missed a bolt.

“Hehehe…HAHAHAHA!” The girl laughed hysterically with tears in her eyes. She loved to see people from above, scramble like ants.

“Hahaha...ahhh. Dear me, I haven’t had this much fun in a while,” she said, wiping away a tear that had formed.

An orb suddenly appeared next to the mage flashing in alert.

“Hmmm…” in amusement she took it into her hands, one hand gracefully waving above it. An image appeared on the sphere; a red haired male was shown through the ball—he seems to be inside the Magic Tower.

“Dear me, if it isn't my sweet love,” she looks at Toonka after making the crystal ball disappear, “sorry, little Toonka, seems our playtime needs to be paused and rescheduled to a later date. Hope you can keep entertaining me. Ta ta~”

Casting a spell, she disappeared slowly to the disgust of the man she bid farewell to.

She had done it on purpose.

“GET BACK HERE YOU WRETCH!”

…

The twentieth floor, the master of the magic tower’s room.

“I-I thought I was going to die…!!”

A young mouse-dwarf child had almost seen his soul ascending to the heavens above a few seconds prior, when his tiny body was lifted off the ground and flew to the top of the magic tower.

He stepped back trying to ground himself. He bumped into someone, making him turn around apologetically.

“I-I’m sorry,” he turned around only to see a cat.

“Meoow.”

His eyes meet the gaze I casted at him.

“...”

“Ah.”

How awkward.

“There is one more floor in the magic tower,” the kid said, diverting his embarrassing moment. 

“Then is the twenty-first floor the master's room?” I, in all my mercy, went on with my business like nothing happened. This was much appreciated by the boy.

“No, that’s not what we call it.”

“Then what do you call it?” I questioned him.

The real room of the master of the magic tower. A place that even the non-wizard alliance hasn’t found; a room no one knew the existence of.

At Least, that was the only thing that was stated in Birth of a Hero.

“Ground Zero,” a high pitched voice responded.

“We call it Ground Zero.”

It doesn't belong to the child, nor could it have come from him–since he didn’t know the room's actual name–the cats did not speak in this form, they knew better than that.

I can recognize that voice even if I become half deaf…

“[Name]...” I called the name of the intruder, facing her as she appeared from a mist that manifested out of thin air.

“Hello,” She smiled innocently, “it’s been a while…dear Cale.”

I stare at her with a suspicion of a hundred detectives. “What are you doing here?”

The children recoil behind me. The mouse: scared out of his mind; The cats: hissing at the intruder.

She had been causing nothing but wreck since the day I met her.

“Awww… did you not miss me?” She pouted.

“No.” I said bluntly.

In truth, although she is destructive, she’s never killed anyone. She may act like an evil witch, but she’ll alway cast barriers to protect.

The reason she acts like she does is still a mystery, even to me.

“Bo-hoo…” She pouted. She quickly got over it and spoke, “So, Want the treasure of this tower now? You know, if you called for me beforehand, I would have shown you the way.”

“Then take me there.”

“Nope,” She smiled teasingly at me. Honestly…can’t I just have a day without a headache. “If I did, you would just leave right after, leaving me all alone in this empty tower.”

“Then what do you propose?” I inquired.

“Well… I want to join your little fiasco.”

“*HISS*” the cats hissed at her. They really don’t like her.

I narrowed my eyes on her. I can’t deny that she would be really useful if she joined us. But on the contrary, the people of the anti-wizard organization would look at us in a not so good light. Tonka is my main problem. If I let her in, Toonka will follow me until the end of the world for, quote-on-quote, “betraying him.”

I don’t need more problems. But his majesty would kill me if he found out I didn’t recruit her in. Luck isn't on my side this time.

“You can join.”

“Oh, I knew you wouldn't let me—wait, what?” she paused, looking at me incredulously. “What did you say?”

“I said you can join,” I repeated.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“I CAN JOIN?!?!?!?”

We flinched back.

Jeez… Wasn’t it her idea in the first place? Why is she acting like this after I said yes? Honestly… I’ll never understand a woman’s mind.

“..yes,” I said slowly to not ignite another yell.

She jumped up and down while squealing in excitement.

“Oh, I have to go and pack my things!” she summoned her staff, with a swing in the air she started to disappear the same way she appeared. “See you soon love! Next time I’ll ask for your ring size!~”

“Oh, and little Mueller?” she spoke to the boy hiding behind me.

“Yes..!” he shrieked.

“Open up Ground Zero for Cale, will you?” She then fully vanished.

“*sigh…*” I turn to look at Mueller. “Well? Are you going to open ground zero, or not?”

“Ah! Y-yes, right away!” he scurried off to do what he was told.

What have I gotten myself into?

"Human, do you want me to obliviate her?"

"No!"

Fin

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Master-List

[vampiriiiia]

Waiting. Seething. Blooming

(Ch.2)

Summary: An orphaned bastard of House Tyrell is welcomed in Kings Landing as Princess Healanas lady in waiting. In her attempts to navigate the ways of court and gain the favour of powerful men she manages to involve herself with the web of the royal family’s affairs.

word count: 3.8k

Since the day where you shared with the princess your knowledge of flowers,

and in extension, insects and such, your walks in the garden became a daily occurrence. Everyday, a bit before midday, and during the evenings as well, you and Princess Helaena would stroll around the gardens, deep in conversation. On some days, such as this, hers and Prince Aegon’s children, Prince Jaegerys and sweet Princess Jaehera would come with you. On such evenings, you sit in a marble bench that was adorned with ivys.

In front of you lied a moss covered path, amidst the enchanting whispers of the Keeps garden, where the gnarled limbs of towering oaks twist and turn like vigilant sentinels. This path, gently beckons you towards the heart of the grove. Here, in this secluded haven, stands a statue carved in alabaster. For a moment, it seemed to glow with a light all its own. The statue is poised gracefully upon a pedestal entwined with ivy. Surrounding this spectral guardian are blooms of purple and pink hydrangeas, their petals nodding in the breeze like petals like the paintings for a book your mother had showed you, a time long ago. Shadows of children dance under the enchanting boughs, where light seldom intrudes, adding to the mystique of this sanctuary. It is a place where the divide between past and present blurs, and where the whispers of history seem louder than the songs of birds around you and your unusually quiet company.

You carefully watched the children for a while, before turning your attention to the Princess, who despite her earlier excitement to visit the gardens, now stood silent and stoic, like the elegant statue in front of you, examining a dark creature perched upon her hand. Its eight legs, sharp and angled like blades, moved with a dreadful grace. Its body, a shadowy armour of intricate patterns. It’s eyes almost looked a bit sinister as they seemed to pierce through the very essence of your facade, as though the spider itself held dominion over fear and shadows. You had no problem with insects and such, even holding some of them when the Princesses hands had been too full, but you dreaded spiders. You dreaded them more than anything. As you watched her handle the creature with grace, a sense of numbing terror spread across your chest, and despite being seated, you felt your legs crumble also. It wasn’t the spiders appearance that frightened you per se, more the fact that they could be anywhere, and you wouldn’t know. They seemed to know every whisper that had been whispered in the Keep, maybe even the realm, maybe even Highgarden. Most likely Highgarden. They knew too many things, they could weave the most appropriate net for you, trapping you for as long as they pleased, and you wouldn't even see it. Thankfully, your size did not allow that but unfortunately, you were not as big as you’d like, for you were far smaller than the nets life sized spiders created.

Eventually you turned your attention back to the children running around each other, seemingly playing a game of tag. You sat there, quietly with the Princess for a while, till a sudden appearance had the both of you jolting.

Queen Alicent Hightower has always been a politely imposing figure. She had lengthy copper curls and big brown eyes that seemed to be aware of your every move. She had been wearing an emerald green dress, perched with the symbol of the seven on her waist, creating a belt like necklace around her lower waist. Other than the softness of the fabric with a few golden details, she had been dressed simply for the day, as the Princess had told you, no court meeting for the day was to be held. She inspected you closely, carefully, the way you sat and how straight your back was, where you put your hands, and when she was seemingly satisfied, she turned her attention to her daughter. Her eyes softened as she said “ Helaena, would you happen to know where your grandsire would be?” “No mother, I do not. (Y/N) and I have been here for some time, he has not appeared around these parts of the garden”. The Princess had gained a habit of referring to you by your first name as of late, she never corrected herself, but you never took the liberty of using her first name as well.

The Queen looked perplexed at that, “He had told me he’d be with you today.” “Well, he is not”. She sighted, letting out a long batted breath, obviously not very pleased with the outcome of her search. She seemed to be searching for him quite often these days, surely the castle couldn’t be so big. Besides, Lord Otto Hightower was of old age, he couldn’t be running around the castle, avoiding his daughter of all people. That thought seemed amusing, but it was certainly untrue, since most days Queen Alicent was the one doing the running. She rigidly sat down, in the middle of you and Helaena on the bench, “I suppose I’ll wait here then. Your grandsire is most likely to appear at these parts of the garden”. That was not true, this wing of the garden has always been quiet, so quiet you could hear the rose petals flowing under the evening breeze. You highly doubted the Hand had been one for romantic adventures through quiet parts of the castle such as this.

Queen Alicents presence stiffened the atmosphere. While before her arrival there was a silent air of understanding surrounding you and Princess Helaena, now it was filled with awkward small conversation about court matters such as the starvation of smallfolk in the southern part of Kings Landing. That was the one thing that stuck to you the most “And what is the next move to solve that matter? Have you reached a conclusion yet?” you surprised yourself by speaking but the Queen’s response is what truly caught you off guard “It’s truly unfortunate but we have not yet began to attend to that matter, in the city of Braavos, the Iron Bank, not half a year ago had lended a large amount of money to the throne to built that large well down in Rivers Row and unfortunately it has not been finished and they’re demanding that number of money back” did a well really take so much money to be built? why couldn’t they use the saving of the throne itself? “We of course will tend as soon as we can to the starving smallfolk but there’s other matters to be tended to first. You see Lady Flower, the throne is always busy and filled with responsibilities” the Queen added hastily, sensing your scepticism about her response, diverting the conversation to other matters the throne had to quickly attend to. You tried your best to keep your back straight, never slouching and your hands never leaving your lap.

——

“They want to make my brother king” the Princess abruptly broke the silence after arriving to her chambers. The uncomfortable conversation with Queen Alicent had thankfully ended as it began to darken outside. Now at the comfort of her quarters, soundly rocking Jaeherys crib while you did the same for Jaehera, her commnet caught you by suprise. “Why would you think that Helaena?” you knew exactly why. Since the moment you arrived in the castle you quickly understood what opinions Queen Alicents side of the family held for Princess Rhaenyra. Prince Aegon made jokes about the legitimacy of her sons, The hand liked to act like she did not exist but was in fact a distant family member at best, and not the actual heir to the throne. Princess Helaena never spoke of her, but also never participated in debates about her with the rest of her family. You were not sure if the latter one was a direct request from the Queen. You only heard Prince Aemond speak of her once, and the causality which he spoke so hatefully about her had you momentarily freeze in your place.

On the other hand, you heard Queen Alicent speak so often about her step-daughter that you were not sure if it sounded more like envy or like something else. Or both.

Queen Alicent spoke of Rhaenyra in public with a veneer of civility and disdain. She would often criticize the Princesses rebellions and lack of propriety. The Queen made a show of disapproving of her behaviour, playing up the role of a concerned stepmother trying to rein in a wayward daughter.

"She is willful and defiant," Alicent would say, her voice laced with irritation. "Ignoring her duties and causing trouble at every turn. It’s a shame, really. She could be so much more if she would just learn to act like a proper princess." the Queen would continue in a frenzy. It took you by suprise how often you’d catch her in such position, speaking in such way, to Ser Criston Cole, of all people. Although, he never once opened his mouth to agree or disagree with her, displaying a serious and nonchalant stance to what the Queen was saying. It was a smart move on his part, but at the same time it made it look like it happened more often than not.

Queen Alicent reminded you of how you spoke of the gods when you were younger, innocent and more hopeful. When your mother was still alive, albeit sick, and you still belivied. You’d speak in an irritated manner about them, when despite your prayers, they didn’t bend to your will. You’d never stop believing and praying though, always secretly hoping that they’d see your devotion and finally grand you one wish. In your case, you asked for your mothers health. You did not know, not truly, what Queen Alicent wanted from Princess Rhaenyra. You weren’t sure if she quite knew herself.

Your inner turmoil was put at pause when Princess Jaehera whined a little, then went back to her sleep. You looked at the Princess, who had now placed her son in his crib, rocking him gently, with a faraway look in her lavender blue eyes. Princess Helena’s wasn’t much older than you, yet she had her twins at the same age you lost your mother. You knew that at that age, you weren’t mentally or physically prepared to host another person inside you, much less twins. The Princess helped feed them, bath them, made sure they went to their high Valyrian lessons, rocked them to sleep every night and was always with them, day and night, overlooking their other activities with your help. But as you watched her tend to them, you weren’t really sure if she quite realised they were hers. You once heard some maids comment about the Princesses standoffishness, which increased after she got married to her brother and had children.

You reached the conclusion that despite those day dreams always being a part of the Princess, their increase is both a form of escapism. Deep down, she knew that the children were hers. But the weight of motherhood, its duties, it must be very overwhelming. In her mind, they were not her children, they were her siblings. It must be more comfortable pretending she was their older sister, which wasn’t a stretch considering how young the queen was when she had Prince Aegon. Retreating into her mind was easier than truly grasping the fact that she birthed those children when she was one herself.

The Princess didn’t reply to your question, she tucked her son in, as you did for her daughter, and asked for your help with undoing her hair and gown. When she got in her night wear, you started unbraiding her hair. “Has Prince Aegon yet to return?” you asked “As usual he has not. I don't except him to. He himself must prefer where his currently sleeping, or rather who” you learned quickly enough that the Princess preferred much more as well that he did not return to their shared chambers. Her relationship with her brother, despite being married and having twins, never really changed, no romantic love blossomed between them as it had for their great-grandsire and his sister wife, the good Queen Alyssane.

——

Sleep for once had come easy last night, which was unusual. You quickly dressed yourself in a light blue dress with puffy sleeves and fixed your hair accordingly. You walked to the sept, not too fast and not too slow, as you smiled carefully and politely greeted other members of court. The sept was cold, filled with the chilly air of the morning, but the candles as you lit them quickly warmed you up. One for your mother, your father, your grandparents. You sat on your knees and silently moved your lips as you recited the correct prayers. You felt a heavy presence move next to you and start praying as well. You did not feel particularly happy about that, knowing you couldn’t sit in the sept as long as you usually do with another observing you. You prayed for a few more minutes, then started to recite all the other prayers you knew, eager to wait out the presences departure. It did not come, you felt the person move and stand up, giving you a brief moment of hope, till you realised they weren’t leaving, seemingly waiting for you to finish. You finished your last known prayer and blowed out the candles you previously lit, carefully standing up and dusting off nonexistent filth. You turned around to be met face to face with Prince Aemond. It was for the best really, you reasoned, Prince Aemond was unmarried still, you could attempt to secure a match for yourself with a second son, bastard or not, you were still the oldest and one of the only surviving members of House Tyrell. Although, Prince Aemond never wanted you to forget your illegitimacy, “Lady Flower” he started, always putting an emphasis on your last name. “I was beginning to wonder you were avoiding me with how much you were praying” he continued. He was easily dislikable. You smiled politely “Of course not, my Prince, House Tyrell sadly has lots of deceased members” a half truth. The l Prince examined you with his icy gaze, it was clear he did not like you at all, nor made an attempt to hide his disdain for bastards, even if their standing was in Highgarden, the same House his mothers family had sworn to.

“I have a personal request for you” he spoke after a beat of silence.

You held your breath, hoping it was something that was easily completed and would not question your honour, more than it already was since your birth. “Ser Criston, my mothers and your Queens, royal guard has been sent for business on my grandfathers command down in Kings Landing, the western part. I was ought to come with him but my duties do not allow me time to do so. I was hoping you’d be of help.” “But the Princess—” “The Princess has already been informed that you have matters to attend to for today. You post will be filled with some other lady.” He has already planned this out. His words gave you little room to think of anything else. “Of course my Prince” he did not smile or thank you, just started to walk. You took that as your cue to follow him.

After a few, albeit long and nerve filled minutes, you found yourself in the company of Ser Criston and Prince Aemond. Ser Criston was not wearing his usual armour, but instead he wore a dark grey cloak and a hat to match it, trying to cover his appearance. He handed you a dark blue and dusty cloak and despite your initial disgust, you wore it with not one complain and put on the attached hood. They spoke quietly amongst themselves, then looked back at you, then back at each other. You smiled politely, but not for two long, so they wouldn’t deem you as stupid. You were pretty sure the Prince would think so anyway, despite your best efforts.

After a few minutes of exchanging quiet conversation and a few hissed whispers at each other, Ser Criston started to walk outside, nodding for you to follow him. Prince Aemond send you a warning glance before you left. You quickly followed Ser Criston outside, it had been your first time outside the walls of the castle, so you didn’t know how dangerous it could be. But it must have been dangerous enough, for he still kept his sword on him, gripping it as you walked side by side. After a while, you found the courage to ask “Is there a specific reason why I was asked to join you today?” Ser Criston replied without looking at you, with a stern expression staring ahead “You will see for yourself soon enough.” It was unfair to drag you out of your daily responsibilities and to not even inform you why, withholding information from the quest they sent you to, you thought in bitter annoyance.

“Whatever you see today, I do not want you to inform the Queen.”

What. “What?”

“I have been given stern instructions not to inform her by the Hand himself. You will follow them as well. Is that understood?”

You spoke after a moment, unable to move from your suprise at his words “….Yes.”

You walked in silence for some time, passing men, women and children alike most of them skinny, thin, bony actually. So thin you could reach and touch them and you’d feel their bones more than their skin. They looked as if the only thing separating their bones from the outside world was a thin dirty sheet, that hugged their body tightly. A few were laying on the cold dirt ground, most likely dead, judging by the smell. You hoped you’d leave that smell in the past. The stench of death hung heavy in the air. Rotting flesh mingled with the acrid smoke of burning bodies, creating a nauseating odor that clawed at the senses. The sickly sweet smell of decay was like a miasma, shrouding everything in a pall of despair. The back gate of the castle had been at the southeast part of the city, which meant you were seeing first hand the consequences of starvation. There were so many dead bodies, rotting unattended to, that the risk of a disease breaking out pretty soon seemed the only logical outcome. They weren’t burning fast enough, there were more dead laying on the ground than healthy men that were able to stand on their feet to continue this task.

Some were cussing King Viserys, who having been so many years bedridden had cast his curse on the city, to have everyone slowly die like he was. Others cussed Princess Rhaenyra for leaving and not taking the throne to protect the realm. Others cussed Queen Alicent and her court of men, who chose to cut the food supply from Highgarden for whatever reason. To you horror, as you walked to the western part of the city, you realised the wave of starvation had affected not only the south, but the east and a part of the west as well. You speculated the north was also highly affected too. As you thought some more, you finally began to l piece a few things together. The amount of money the Iron Bank lended to the throne had not been just for that damn well, as you were pretty sure the court wouldn’t sacrifice the entire population of Kings Landing just for that. Who would pay taxes in that case? You also knew that the castle had more than enough money to never need a loan from the Iron Bank, but they didn’t want to use the money from there for whatever they were truly using the loan for. If they used the thrones savings for anything, they always had to keep it in account and they didn’t want any physical evidence. The well was being used as a means to launder off money in a way. Your father had explained you long ago what that meant. You didn't want to think of him now.

Instead, you wondered if the Queen actually knew. You weren’t sure if she knew truly what the loan was used for, or the true state Kings Landing was in, judging at least from the instructions Ser Criston was given from the Hand. Oh. The Hand. You should’ve realised so sooner. It seems the Queen was kept in the dark for some time regarding matters such as this. As the Queen you weren’t sure how much she knew and how much she chose to believe certain things were true. How she believed her fathers word on a scale. It must be a combination of trust and of wanting her consciousness at peace. What you knew became your responsibility as well, after all. You couldn’t judge the Hand for doing so, after all the reason you were here was because you acted in a similar manner towards your younger brother. Although you’d never put at risk so many innocent people to keep a lie believable. You liked to think a certain amount of the self-sacrifice they taught ladies like you was still left, or at least some morality.

You looked at Ser Criston, his eyes betrayed no disgust, sadness or anger at the image in front of him. His brows were slightly forrowed but that could be from the smell. Out of all the people in court, except a few middle born ladies, you shared the most similarities with Ser Criston. You both came from low-born mothers after all and knew the struggles that came with. He seemed to forget his roots, though. You walked and walked till you stopped in front of a whore house, deep in the centre of Kings Landing, far away from sickness, pain and grief, here the people still danced and drank despite it only being mid-day. Ser Criston turned to you “I’ll need to you to go inside, and fetch Prince Aegon in the calmest manner you can master. Don’t attract much attention. Quickly.” Before you could answer, Ser Criston knocked on the door and a woman in frizzy blonde curls and pink underwear opened the door and looked at both of you expectingly. She seemed annoyed you noted. Ser Criston looked at you, motioning for you to speak.

“We have direct orders from the castle to bring Prince Aegon back. There are urgent matters he needs to attend to.” You looked at yo it partner for a moment, wanting to see if your words were up to his expectations. He nodded at you silently and you looked back at the woman you with a grunt showed you the way inside. Ser Criston stayed outside and the door close with a loud thud. You were glad for once that the cloak that had been given to you had a hood and that the whore house had colourful curtains covering the windows.

[youryurigoddess]

The biggest Easter egg yet

I’ve been meaning to address this for a while now, but @camdenleisurepirates gave me the final push after reading my piece on Gabriel’s cross. Huge thanks for that morsel of motivation, my ADHD brain loves you.

This is going to be yet another long read, although not as extensive as my bookshop statues meta. Still, better get yourself some hot chocolate or another drink of your choice and make sure you’re comfortable!

Now, remember the X-Ray interview with Peter Anderson on Easter Eggs in the opening animation he created for the second season? Forget red herrings, apparently our fandom has a literal red phone box! I’m convinced that this whole scene is a one big — the biggest, actually — Easter Egg, and I’ll explain why step-by-step.

The red phone box Crowley used to warn Aziraphale about the Antichrist and the following Armageddon in S1, the exact one where he left change for an emergency call, seems important enough in terms of the future S3 plot, but there’s so much more going on in this frame. Not only the lift.

The angels

At the very start of this sequence we can see a fragment of an elaborate bridge guarded by cherubs sitting on two columns, maybe globes, leading to a distant structure built over a literal mountain of trash — all elements of the S1 and S2 openings which were consciously picked out by the animators and put together in a very ominous pile.

Ready for some scavenging?

In the Gabriel’s cross meta, I already mentioned the importance of Ponte Sant’Angelo in relation to the ex-Archangel’s statue. Now it’s time to widen our perspective and focus on the full picture — quite literally. Apparently the bridge from the opening sequence has ten statues of angels, exactly as the Italian historical monument.

First things first though: the two big cherubs guarding the entry to the bridge might seem familiar to some of you. While they’re obviously not copies of the same statue, a very similar pair of brass cherubs is placed in Aziraphale’s bookshop to symbolize Aziraphale and Crowley. And looking at the screenshot above and the way they sleep or sulk with their backs turned on each other, they are most certainly not talking. The addition of more than one set of eyes is a lovely reference to biblically accurate angel memes though.

If we assume the traditional left-right positioning of the characters, Aziraphale is on the left and Crowley is on the right. Directly behind Aziraphale we can see a ship named “Good Traits”, but in reverse — kinda sorta confirmed by the animator Peter Anderson to be connected to the concept of the seven deadly sins on Twitter. Same that was mentioned recently by Neil in one of his asks.

The presence of Gabriel — a renegade Archangel wielding a broken cross — on the right, Crowley’s side, seems to match this theory. It could also support one of the possible interpretations of the very last bookshop shot in the S2 finale.

Out of all ten statues, Angel Carrying the Cross by Ercole Ferrata is considered inferior to the others on the bridge in that it appears to be a two-dimensional relief sculpture rather than an unbounded three-dimensional artwork, which seems to match Gabriel’s first impression as a character.

The inscription on the statue reads, “Dominion rests on his shoulders" — that is the weight of the cross that Christ was forced to carry through Jerusalem before being crucified. Even though Gabriel’s burden partially disappeared, the whole bridge and its environment is covered with crosses. It’s clear that we’re looking at a direct parallel of Via Crucis, the Way of Sorrows.

Towering over the Italian bridge, at the very top of Castel Sant’Angelo, is a statue of Archangel Michael, seen as the golden angel on the top left part of the trash pile. Aziraphale’s side, perhaps as his assistant, perhaps a rival? Legends of the Jews mention Michael as the chief of a band of angels who questioned God's decision to create man on Earth. The entire band of angels, except for Michael, was condemned to Fall — which could explain why they have such a good access to the Grapevine That Obviously Doesn’t Exist. And whatever’s going on between Michael and Dagon, perhaps.

In Roman Catholic teachings, Michael has four main roles or offices. Their first role is the leader of the Army of God and the leader of Heaven's forces in the final triumph over the powers of Hell. Viewed as the angelic model for the virtues of the spiritual warrior, their conflict with evil taken as the battle within. The second and third roles of Michael deal with death. Their second role is that of an angel of death, carrying the souls of Christians to Heaven. Michael descends at the hour of death and gives each soul the chance to redeem itself before passing; thus throwing the devil and his minions into consternation. In their third role, Michael weights souls on perfectly balanced scales they are often depicted with as their attribute. In their fourth role, Michael appears as the guardian of the Church. Might be the reason why they’re the closest to the building on top of the mountain.

It looks like Michael lost their sword though, just like Gabriel lost a part of the cross he was supposed to carry. The sword in question was supposed to be used to slay the dragon — Satan, the Adversary — according to John of Patmos and his Book of Revelations.

Speak of the devil: interestingly, there are two copies of an anonymous variation of the Angel of Light statue appearing twice on both sides of the bridge. Both the title as well as the statue itself seem like obvious references to one (former) angel literally called the Lightbringer, Lucifer. Perhaps one of them is representing his son, the Antichrist, instead, with the both of them helping out the Ineffables on two opposing — or perhaps only parallel — sides of the bridge?

The light carried by Lucifer appears to be green, a color used in the series as a visual representation of Hell, but on the intertextual level might also serve as a reference to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel The Great Gatsby and the green light at the end of the Daisy’s dock symbolizing the undying love, desperation, and longing for an unattainable dream. In the story, the color represents the limitations of power and money. Not surprisingly, the novel appears on Jim’s bookshelf and is part of the Good Omens book club — a list of personal recommendations from Neil Gaiman and Douglas Mackinnon for the fans to catch up on before the next series.

Last but not least, the possible connection to Libertas as the inspiration for the Statue of Liberty, shown multiple times in S2 as a foreshadowing of our character’s trip to America in S3. The related quote of Patrick Henry “Give me liberty or give me death” becomes even more relevant if we consider how the motto of the French Revolution was sometimes written as Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort (“Liberty, equality, fraternity or death”). A lesson surely learnt by a certain angel back in 1793, when he was held prisoner for the last time before being forcefully taken Upstairs in the Final Fifteen.

The bridge and the castle

Okay, these are the basic observations. Now a brief historical overview and we will reach the fun bit in a jiffy.

Have you ever wondered about the meaning of this whole complex? It wasn’t always angelic, but named after a Roman noble dynasty. The Aelian bridge was built by the Emperor Hadrian in 134 AD to span River Tiber from the city center to his mausoleum. With time, the remains of more emperors were put to rest in there, until it was plundered and destroyed in a war. Then the remaining structure was transformed into a military fortress and a castle serving as the papal residence in times of war.

The Papal State also used Sant'Angelo as a prison; the Renaissance philosopher Giordano Bruno was imprisoned there for six years. Executions of the inmates were performed in the small inner courtyard, but they weren’t the only deaths in the area. On the other side of the bridge, in the adjoining Piazza del Ponte, under the watchful eyes of the stone likenesses of two saints, the public executions were held, and the heads of the criminals were brought onto the bridge and exposed to public view there.

As a prison, the former mausoleum is also the setting for the third act of Giacomo Puccini's 1900 opera Tosca. Long story short, the eponymous heroine convinces her lover to feign death so that they can flee together. Unfortunately, they are betrayed and the firing squad shoots at him with real bullets instead of blanks. Tosca believes in the quality of his acting performance rather than the truth, and when the realization hits her, she leaps to her death from the Castel’s ramparts.

After Nero’s bridge was destroyed, the travelers were forced to cross this bridge as the only direct route to the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica, earning it the nickname “the bridge of Saint Peter”. That’s why in the 16th century Pope Clement VII erected statues of Saints Peter and Paul at the ends of the bridge, guarding it as they are supposed to protect the entry to Heaven.

In 1688 the bridge was embellished with ten angel statues, five on each side of the bridge, carrying Arma Christi, the Instruments of the Passion. The Good Omens characters represented by those statues in the opening sequence might be other instruments of Christ’s suffering as parts of the system that needs to be overthrown or replaced.

One angel appears particularly important in the context of both the bridge and the Second Coming — Saint Michael the Archangel.

Legend holds that the Archangel Michael appeared atop Hadrian’s mausoleum, sheathing their sword as a sign of the end of the plague of 590, thus lending the castle its present name. A less charitable yet more apt elaboration of the legend, given the militant disposition of this particular Archangel, was heard by the 15th-century traveler who saw an angel statue on the castle roof. He recounts that during a prolonged season of the plague, Pope Gregory I heard that the populace, even Christians, had begun revering a pagan idol at the church of Santa Agata in Suburra. A vision urged the Pope to lead a procession to the church. Upon arriving, the idol miraculously fell apart with a clap of thunder. Returning to St Peter's by the Aelian Bridge, the Pope had another vision of an angel atop the castle, wiping the blood from his sword on his mantle, and then sheathing it. While the Pope interpreted this as a sign that God was appeased, this did not prevent Gregory from destroying more sites of pagan worship in Rome. In honor of the vision and Michael, the bridge was renamed in their name.

What if the procession from the opening sequence was meant to imitate the procession led by the Pope from the legend? What if Aziraphale, now officially a Supreme Archangel, Commander of the Heavenly Host, is the one actually leading it, with Crowley finally at his side as his partner and second in command, just like it was proposed by him in the Final Fifteen?*

What if by some reason, maybe personal ambition, maybe just a tragic coincidence or situational necessity, there really was an impostor in Heaven, and Metatron — the so called Voice of God who seemingly doesn’t speak up for Herself since Job’s test — has been playing a winged version of the Wizard of Oz all along?

It would make just the perfect sense if not for one tiny detail. The procession we see on the bridge is actually led by Crowley, which doesn’t fit the parallel at all — unless it’s actually a proof of an ongoing body swap, as the mismatched names of the actors could also suggest?

The mountain of trash and the bookshop

The symbolic mountain of trash we can see Aziraphale and Crowley climb is a reference in itself. To an actual mount called Zion, believed to be the place where Yahweh, the God of Israel, dwells (Isaiah 8:18; Psalm 74:2), the place where God is king (Isaiah 24:23) and where God has installed king David on his throne (Psalm 2:6).

In a literal sense, it’s a hill in Jerusalem, although the sources refer to three different locations in different contexts — although for the purpose of this meta the Upper Eastern Hill (Temple Mount) makes the most sense. Its highest part became the site of Solomon's Temple. The same King Solomon the rituals in Freemasonry refer to. Masonic buildings, where lodges and their members meet, are sometimes called "temples" specifically as an allegoric reference to King Solomon's Temple, not actual places of worship. And Aziraphale’s bookshop is built around Solomon’s Magic Circle.

In a metaphysical sense, and especially in the context of the Christian New Testament, it is also believed to be a part of Heaven — the heavenly Jerusalem, God's Holy, eternal city. Christians are said to have “(…) come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven” (Hebrews 12:22-23 cf. Revelation 14:1). Just like the procession were following in the opening sequence.

There’s been some speculation whether the lift on top of the mountain could symbolize Aziraphale’s bookshop, or, more specifically, the oculus in its centre. If you look closely at the enhanced screenshot, you can see that the dome isn’t made of glass and that it looks like a tower (a church’s bell tower, perhaps) more than a whole building.

And there is an actual doorway in there — not like the modern lift doors — opening up towards the source of that white, heavenly light. And what kind of enlightenment can you usually find up in the skies or heavens?

We’re welcomed to crack open the doors to the Heavenly Sanctuary — the Most Holy place, Sanctum Sanctorum, the Holy of Holies — to undraw the final curtain and finally stand eye to eye with God. Who knows, maybe even ask some questions or listen to some answers.

Or, at the very least, to meet one of Her forms known as Jesus Christ. Because that’s precisely where he serves as our (humanity’s) Mediator and the Holy Priest after his Ascension to Heaven. The structure at the top reminds of some temple architecture seen in Antiquity and Christianity.

The Catholic Church considers the Church tabernacle or its location (traditionally at the rear of the sanctuary) as the symbolic equivalent of the Holy of Holies, due to the storage of consecrated hosts in that vessel and their meaning as the Body of Christ. Tabernacle is commonly marked with a red light turned on and off depending on His presence or lack if it.

Looks like He’s already in the area, one way or another, keeping eye on some things.

Are we following a procession of believers happy to embrace their one and true Savior? Or are they actually protesters on their way to dethrone the authority and the system?

Guess we will have to wait and see.

[rex3o]

The Eternal Enigma

A/N: The Eternal Enigma is deeply inspired by the movie of La Belle et la Bête which I watched recently so I put two and two together and yh here we go. Also this story does NOT follow the jujutsu kaisen plot. But I hope u lot enjoy it as much as I do as I post more out lol.

Summary: In a cursed kingdom ruled by the fearsome Ryomen Sukuna, a former general turned demon king, Y/n—a noblewoman whose family fell victim to Sukuna’s wrath—is delivered to his ominous fortress. Expecting to be treated harshly, Y/n is instead met with Sukuna’s cold indifference and an outrageous demand: she must fall in love with him. When Y/n protests, Sukuna’s fury erupts, and he declares her forbidden from leaving his domain. As Sukuna storms out, Y/n is left to navigate the treacherous path of her new, dark reality.

Ryomen Sukuna X Reader

>> chp 2 / chp3

In the waning light of dusk, the land lay cloaked in a somber silence, broken only by the mournful whispers of the wind through twisted, barren trees. Once a flourishing realm of beauty and grace, the landscape now bore the scars of darkness—a kingdom lost to the curse of an ancient power.

At the heart of this cursed domain stood a fortress of eerie majesty, its blackened spires reaching toward the heavens like the gnarled fingers of a dark deity. This was the domain of the Eternal Enigma—a being whose name was whispered in fear and awe: Ryomen Sukuna. His fortress, a towering edifice of obsidian and bone, loomed over the land, casting long shadows that seemed to swallow the light itself.

The tale of Sukuna’s darkness began long before his rise to power. Born into a world already steeped in suffering, Sukuna resided in the womb of his starving mother alongside his twin. As the days of deprivation wore on, the infant Sukuna, driven by a primal instinct for survival, consumed his sibling. Even then, his existence was marked by a monstrous hunger.

As he grew, Sukuna’s insatiable drive for dominance and power led him to become a general of unmatched bravery. His prowess on the battlefield earned him great acclaim, yet it was his ambition that ultimately led him astray. Driven by a desire for eternal glory, Sukuna made a fateful pact with forces beyond mortal comprehension. In his quest for immortality, he sacrificed not only his humanity but the very soul of his kingdom, sealing his fate in a curse that bound him to a grotesque and eternal imprisonment.

Now, his form was a grotesque mockery of the noble warrior he once was: the size of a grizzly beast, with four monstrous clawed arms and four eyes glowing red with a cold, malevolent light that reflected the torment of his eternal punishment.

The people of the land spoke of him in hushed tones, recounting tales of his cruelty and the legion of cursed spirits and demons he commanded. The once-vibrant courts of the kingdom had become hollow echoes of their former splendor, their power and beauty overshadowed by the darkness that reigned supreme. Those who dared to speak of Sukuna’s name faced his wrath, for the curse that bound him extended to all who crossed his path.

On a fateful night, as the moon hung heavy in the sky, a young woman was delivered to the fortress gates. Y/n, a noblewoman of grace and beauty, arrived with a heart full of trepidation and hope. Her family, once powerful and respected, had been destroyed in a failed attempt to defy Sukuna’s dominion. Now, she was a mere pawn in a game she scarcely understood—a gift offered to the overlord in a desperate bid to placate his anger and prevent further bloodshed.

The carriage rocked as it trundled along the forest path, its wheels grinding against the overgrown roots of ancient trees. Y/n sat in silence, her pale hands folded neatly in her lap, her heart heavy with the weight of her fate. Beyond the veil covering her face, she looked upon the thick mist outside, Sukuna's fortress looming—a twisted silhouette against the blood-red sky. Her thoughts were abruptly cut short.

"They say no one returns from there," whispered the old servant who sat beside her, his voice quivering. "Once you enter the Demon King's domain, you are lost."

Y/n stared ahead, her face expressionless, though her heart pounded with fear. She had heard the rumors—stories of a man turned into a beast, cursed by the gods to rule over cursed spirits and demons. Sukuna's cruelty was legendary, but no one could explain why he had demanded her as a tribute.

The gates of the fortress creaked open, and a cold wind swept through the air as the carriage crossed into Sukuna’s domain. The once-proud noblewoman took a deep breath, knowing that her life would never be the same again.

As the carriage came to a halt, and she stepped out into the foreboding realm. The cold air bit at her skin, and the eerie silence of the fortress seemed to swallow her every step. The gates behind her loomed after her, ancient and imposing, their iron bars etched with dark symbols that whispered of forgotten sorcery.

Y/n’s eyes met those of the gatekeeper, who regarded her with a mixture of pity and apprehension. “Welcome, my lady,” he intoned, his voice trembling with the weight of unspoken fears. “May the gods have mercy on you.”

The doors creaked open, and a footman greeted Y/n as she stepped into the darkness beyond, her old servant closely following behind. Her heart pounded with a blend of fear and curiosity. She had heard the tales of the cursed king—of the monstrous being who ruled with an iron fist and a heart of darkness. But what lay beyond the shadows of his fortress remained a mystery, one she was now bound to unravel.

The footman led her through the foreboding halls of the fortress, her senses overwhelmed by the oppressive gloom that pervaded every corner. The walls seemed to whisper secrets long forgotten, and the flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows that danced like specters in the dark. The halls were deathly quiet, with servants passing in complete silence as they moved through their tasks.

In the dim glow of a grand chamber, Sukuna awaited her. His form, though majestic in its own right, was a stark contrast to the splendor of the once-great fortress. He sat on his dark and imposing throne, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality. His presence was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a paradox of beauty and horror.

As the footman and Y/n approached, her heart raced with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The Eternal Enigma, the cursed king, awaited her presence, and with it, the unfolding of a tale that would intertwine their fates in ways neither could have imagined.

As Y/n entered the grand chamber, her eyes were immediately drawn to the imposing figure seated on the dark throne. Sukuna’s presence was both mesmerizing and terrifying. The throne room was dimly lit by flickering torches that cast eerie shadows on the walls, making the scene even more surreal.

Sukuna looked down upon Y/n with an indifferent gaze, his four red eyes glowing like smoldering embers. Despite his fearsome appearance, he seemed almost disinterested in her arrival. He gestured lazily for her to come closer, his monstrous form shifting slightly as he leaned back against his throne.

Y/n approached cautiously, her heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. She had braced herself for harsh treatment or some form of ritualistic cruelty, but Sukuna’s demeanor was unexpectedly nonchalant. He could hear her heart racing and noticed her trembling form, almost chuckling at her fear. Yet, for Y/n, the lack of immediate threats or displays of malevolence only heightened her unease.

"Well, you’re here," Sukuna said, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that filled the chamber. “You remember me, yes? Your family was obedient, but your useless father had to mess things up. Such a pity he’s dead.” Sukuna smirked, his gaze disdainful as he looked down at her. To him, her father was a mere annoyance, a fly in his grand plans. “To shorten this meeting, brat—you’re staying here, in my palace.” His attention wandered, as if Y/n were a trivial matter.

Y/n blinked, trying to process his words. “You insult my dead father and then order me to stay? As a prisoner, you mean?”

Sukuna replied with a sneer, “And what will you do about it? You’re as useless as him. Whatever you do can’t surpass me, so I suggest you listen and comply.” He grinned evilly. “Prisoner? If that’s how you want to see yourself, fine. But for me, you are to be my future wife.”

Y/n stared at him, her mouth slightly agape. “You sick, cruel man… You can’t expect me to fall in love with you. You have loyal consorts who would force their daughters to kneel and beg to marry you. What you ask of me is insane!”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. The casual indifference that had marked his demeanor vanished, replaced by a storm of anger. His massive form tensed, and with a violent motion, he flipped his throne, sending it crashing to the ground with a thunderous roar. The force of his rage shook the entire chamber, and the walls trembled under the impact.

“You dare to defy me?” Sukuna bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber. He stormed over to her, his build overshadowing her as he gripped her face with his hand. His face, marked with deep black ink-like scars, was a terrifying visage of fury. His four demonic eyes burned into her face as he spoke, “You are forbidden from leaving my domain! You will stay here until you fulfill your obligation!” He shoved her away, causing her to fall onto the floor. Her face was scratched by the sharp ends of his nails, blood trickling down her skin.

The entire fortress reverberated with Sukuna’s fury as he stormed out of the grand chamber, his footsteps causing the ground to rumble. The echoes of his anger reverberated through the halls, shaking the very foundations of the once-majestic fortress.

Y/n lays there, stunned by the sheer force of Sukuna’s wrath. The reality of her situation crashed down on her like a wave. She had been thrust into a world of darkness and cruelty, with a cursed king who demanded the impossible.

As the echoes of Sukuna’s fury faded, Y/n was left in the cold silence of the chamber, her mind racing with fear, confusion, and a burgeoning sense of helplessness. The task before her seemed daunting and absurd, but she knew she had no choice but to navigate the treacherous path that lay ahead.

A/N: YOOOO hope u liked it lol I'll make another part soon shorly after this.

[idrellegames]

“I’ll speak plainly then, Wayfarer. The Council of Mages is corrupt. A schism has formed, splitting the Guild into factions. Though outwardly we pretend to be united, internally we are divided, and those divisions grow more desperate by the day. Archsages, savants, Guild masters… it doesn’t matter the rank, sworn loyalties and long-standing allegiances are abandoned and raked through the mud. “The Guild is at war with itself and Velantis is the battleground. Those who seek dominion over the Guild will stop at nothing in their pursuit of power, foraying into the depths of forbidden magic, caring nothing for the lives they destroy. If this hidden war is not stopped, Velantis will meet a desperate and bloody end.”

Zenaida Anaxas is the only child of Sophia Anaxas, the Archon of Velantis, and her consort, Sandro. Born to a life of privilege, Zenaida had the world at her fingertips. As she has no siblings, she was her mother’s sole heir and she began training to inherit her duties at a young age. However, she had no interest in politics and quickly began to resent the pressure placed on her by her mother and her House.

Her powerful capacity for Preservation magic made her a desirable recruit for the Guild of Mages. Seeking an alternative to the life she was born into, Zenaida accepted an offer to train and study at Diradan Tower, much to her mother’s horror. She excelled in her studies and rapidly climbed through the ranks, eventually obtaining the position of savant.

Zenaida maintains a close bond with the Markal twins, Nova (a fellow savant) and Malsara (her bodyguard and lover). She has never supported Sabien Quirinus’s ideologies. Her fears of where he could lead the Guild eventually led her to join the Order of Lethalis.

Artwork by @harumeau

[jksarchives]

IRRESIST

PAIRING: jungkook x reader

GENRE: vampire jungkook, human reader, slight fluff, heavy angst

TAGS/WARNING: violence, manipulation, manhandling, assault, murder, blood, attempted rape (nothing graphic!), angst, sensitive/paranoid oc, panic attack, trauma

WORD COUNT: 7.8k (excl. synopsis)

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯! 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦!

𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗖𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗡𝗢 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗚𝗜𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗠 𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡

SYNOPSIS;

Trust between a human and a vampire in the context of love is a complicated series of challenges that combines fear, curiosity, and vulnerability. For humans, trust involves overcoming natural instincts and societal conditioning. They deal with the temptation of the unknown while faced with the vampire's inherent danger. Meanwhile, the vampire, often burdened by decades of loneliness and secrecy, must rely on their own restraint and loyalty of their human partner in the face of their ravening thirst.

You trusted Jungkook despite what your parents had instilled about his kind and your own paranoia. You loved him, and you had never loved someone so much as him. But from time to time, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Jungkook had broken your trust. You knew he had good control of himself and would never hurt you that way, but the thought of the unpredictable future scared you a bit.

𐚁₊⊹

Once considered creatures of myth and legend, vampires emerged from the darkness years ago to proclaim their dominance over the earth. They conquered humanity with their immortal lives, undefinable power and thirst for blood, reducing humans to an alienated minority fighting for survival at night.

Amongst the group of oppressed minorities was you, a young college student born into a society where fear and caution were as essential as the air you breathed.

Raised as an only child by parents who had witnessed the horrors of vampire dominion firsthand, you were nurtured with an inherent sense of alertness. They taught you how to navigate carefully in a world where one wrong move could cost you your life.

You heard all sorts of horrifying stories, but it wasn’t until you witnessed their brutal savagery with your own eyes for the first time. And as you grew older, you continued coming across more of the atrocities.

You could never stomach the fact that you lived in a world where merciless monsters ruled over the world and hunted humans like animals, and everyday you were scared for your life and those of who you cared about.

But it was about two years ago when your whole life changed.

It was quite late that day, you were hurrying home after a late class and your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of assignment. But little did you know that the night would transform your world forever.

You were walking through the deserted alleyway, and when you rounded a corner, you stumbled upon a chilling sight. A tall figure stood towering over another man, and his hand was wrapped around his neck with a tight iron grip. The man helplessly tried to break free but it was clear to you that he was no match to the other guy.

You were frozen in horror as you witnessed him effortlessly snap his neck. As you watched the lifeless man’s body drop cold with a thud, a bloodcurdling scream tore from your lips, echoing in the isolated streets as terror gripped your soul.

When the dark figure turned to face you, you felt the colours on your face drain completely. You felt as if your heart was about to jump out of your chest.

He was everything you had been warned about — tall, terrifying, and unmistakably a vampire. His eyes were ruby-red, like pools of crimson fire, and somewhat mesmerising. His skin was pale as a ghost which seemed to glow under the moonlight.

He then began to walk towards you, his movements slow and fluid, like a predator eyeing his prey. Your mind was screaming at you to turn and run, but you felt your feet glued to the ground. And as he drew closer, your heart raced at an unimaginable pace. Your breathing was erratic as droplets of sweat cascaded down the side of your face.

But to your surprise, he didn't lunge at you with fangs bared, ready to drain you of your lifeblood. Instead, he was looking at you with his head tilted to the side, studying your trembling form with curious intensity.

“Are you afraid of me, human?” he asked, his tone tinged with amusement. You nodded, unable to form words as you stared into those crimson eyes.

“You have every reason to be,” he continued, his lips curling into a sarcastic smile.

Like a flicker of light, you saw the colour of his eyes shift to a darker brown.

“But I assure you, I mean you no harm”.

His words should have sounded hollow, devoid of sincerity. After all, he was a vampire, a creature of the night who thrived on the blood of the living. And your instincts screamed at you to flee, to run as far away as possible from this creature of the night.

But something held you in place, a strange mixture of fear and curiosity. You found yourself studying him, taking in every detail of his supernatural presence.

And as you looked into his eyes, you sensed a hint of something else beneath the surface — loneliness, perhaps, or even longing.

Jungkook had walked the earth for ages, witnessing the rise and fall of empires, yet never finding satisfaction in the short-lived pleasures of mortal life. Many feared him, and those who knew of his existence muttered his name in hushed tones, since he was the very definition of a hellish vampire — ruthless and violent.

But the more you learned about him, the more you understood that he wasn’t everything that people described him to be. He was savage for sure, he was also someone who knew his boundaries and had control over himself.

You remembered when you first encountered him. You couldn’t lie, he was everything you have been warned about. But as your encounters became more frequent, you found yourself strangely drawn to him. You wanted to know more about him despite the nagging sense of danger.

And as your relationship blossomed, you discovered a side of Jungkook that few had ever seen — a side that was gentle, compassionate, and fiercely protective.

Your biggest challenge at that time was confronting your parents about your relationship with Jungkook. You both knew that your love was forbidden, and that both sides of the society would never accept your unique relationship.

You, in particular, were worried about your parents' reaction, knowing all too well of the presumptions and hatred that existed against beings like Jungkook.

While it took time for Jungkook’s parents to finally accept you as someone more than just a human they fed on, you knew it was still early to reveal everything to yours. However, the truth could only be kept hidden for so long, as secrets have a way of revealing themselves in the light of day.

It took a lot to muster up courage to tell your parents everything, and Jungkook offered to go with you. Their reaction was exactly what you had expected. Horror contorted their faces, their words laced with disbelief and disgust, unable to comprehend how their daughter could be entangled with such a vile creature.

You remembered how they pulled you away from Jungkook who was sitting down next to you, fear written over their faces as they shielded you from him.

Jungkook could only sit and stare in pain, yet understandably. He knew to be silent, because anything he said would fall in deaf ears. Humans knew better than to trust monsters like him.

But despite their rejection, you remained steadfast in your love for Jungkook, unwilling to abandon the one who had captured your heart. You understood that they were trying to protect you, you couldn’t blame them for that, but at the same time, you knew what you were doing.

If anything was to go wrong, you would be the only one to be blamed.

[𝟶𝟾:𝟷𝟻 𝚙.𝚖.]

It was a chill night, and you found yourself nervously adjusting your dress, your fingers tracing the delicate lace. It was Yunho’s, Jungkook’s best friend's, birthday, and though you weren’t quite sure about going, you knew you had to attend out of courtesy at least.

As you and Jungkook entered the grand mansion where the party was being held, you couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. There were quite a lot more guests than you had expected. The atmosphere was charged with energy, the air thick with the scent of sweat and alcohol.

It made you scrunch your nose up in disgust. The whole aura made you uncomfortable, but not more than the fact that the house was practically filled with vampires and you being the only human.

You just couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place, like a lamb wandering into a den of wolves. You clung onto Jungkook like he was your lifeline, pressing yourself against him like glue.

“It's okay, I won’t let anyone hurt you” he whispered, his voice soothing against your ear.

As the night wore on, your discomfort slowly waned as you engaged with Jungkook’s friends and the other guests. You learned that a lot of them were quite chill and fun to be around despite being bloodthirsty creatures.

You discovered shared interests with them and exchanged playful banter. You even found yourself joining in on a game of charades and chugging down shots with them. But you made sure to not go overboard.

“Babe, I’m going out to smoke with the boys, will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?” your boyfriend walked up to you and asked.

“Mhmm, I’ll be fine” you told him and gave him a warm smile, “shout if you need me” he quickly pecked your lips before walking off with his three friends. You sighed and took a sip of the apple juice.

Just then, Yunho emerged from the crowd. “Hey, Y/n” he greeted, “oh hey Yunho” you greeted back with a smile.

“Could you perhaps go and grab my charger from my room? My phone is about to die and I’m kind of in the middle of a game right now” he asked, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sure, where’s your room?” you stood up straight, “first floor on the right, and if you keep walking straight you’ll find a black door. That’s my room” he smiled.

“Okay, I’ll get it for you” you said to him and walked off.

As you made your way up the grand staircase, you couldn't help but admire the intricate details of the mansion's architecture. The plush carpeting beneath your feet muffled your steps as you ascended to the upper floor. Each hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, branching off into different wings of the house.

Despite the vibrant atmosphere downstairs, the floor upstairs seemed to be a huge contrast — as if no one was supposed to be here.

You felt a sense of unease crept over you as you glanced down the long, dimly lit hallway leading deeper into the mansion. The vastness of the house and the thought of getting lost intimidated you.

In the end, you finally managed to find Yunho’s room. Twisting the golden doorknob, you creaked the door open, revealing a very spacious and elegantly furnished room.

After a brief search, you found the charger on a bedside table. And as you went and reached for it, a voice startled you from behind.

“Need a hand?” Yunho’s voice broke the silence, causing you to jump slightly in surprise.

“Gosh, you scared me” you sighed in relief, placing your hand on your chest.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Just wondering what was taking you so long” he let out an airy chuckle as he stood with one hand in his pocket.

You chuckled nervously, feeling slightly embarrassed, “it's alright, I guess I just got a little lost in this enormous mansion of yours” you said. Yunho stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning around before they turned back onto you.

“Yeah, it can be a bit overwhelming at first” he muttered, “but don’t worry, you’ll get used to it around here” he said. The tone in his voice dropped into something sinister, and your smile dropped instantly.

Before you could say anything, the door slammed shut on its own with a loud bang, causing you to jump in fright. Your heart began to race, panic coursing through your body as you realised you were trapped in the room.

You rushed towards the door, your hands trembling as you tried to turn the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

“What are you doing?” your voice shook with fear as you turned to face Yunho, only to find him standing there, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your breath hitched when you saw his fangs protruding menacingly and his eyes glowing scarlet red, a disturbing reminder of the gruesome nature of a vampire.

When he began to walk towards you, you began to move yourself across the wall to the other side of the room. “S-Stay away from me” you warned, struggling to steady your breathing.

“Oh darling, you can’t tell me what to do” he growled with his disgusting grin. With each step Yunho took, your fear threatened to consume you whole.

You pressed yourself against the cold stone wall, searching desperately for a way out, but finding none. The room seemed to narrow around you, suffocating you with his evil presence.

“Please, Yunho, stop this” you begged, feeling yourself choke up with panic.

But all your pleas fell into deaf ears as he slammed his hands on the wall next to you, trapping you under his monstrous body. “Jungkook really hit a jackpot with you, huh?” he leaned in close and took a long sniff from the crook of your neck.

“Your blood, it smells fucking sweet” he said and he dragged his tongue along your neck.

With a rush of adrenaline, you gathered all of your courage and lashed out, striking him with every bit of strength you had. You kneed him in the groin and pushed him off you, watching him drop to the floor groaning in pain. You caught a glimpse of surprise on his face before it contorted into a mask of wrath.

“You bitch” he gritted his teeth as he stood back up on his feet.

With a snarl, he lunged at you, grabbing you by the neck and slamming you against the wall. Pain seared through your body as you fought to loosen his iron grip, your muscles straining against his inhumane strength.

“Jungkook sure taught you well to defend yourself, but I’d like to see you defend yourself now” he grinned sinister as he let go of your neck.

Before you could even catch your breath, Yunho picked you up and slung you over his shoulder as he walked over to his bed.

“Let go of me you sick bastard!” you screamed as you hit his back with your fists, but Yunho remained unmoved. In a matter of seconds, he threw you down on the bed and cuffed your wrists with his single iron gripping hand.

“You can scream all you want darling, no one is going to hear you” he smirked as he hovered over you.

Your glossy eyes widened in horror as your breathing became more erratic. “N-No,” you shook your head, trying to push him off. But he was too strong. “GET OFF ME!” you screamed your lungs out.

“JUNGKOOK!”

┄┄┄┄┄

After indulging in a smoke break with his friends in the dim courtyard, Jungkook went back inside to join you again. But he frowned when he couldn’t find you from where you were standing earlier.

“Have you guys seen Y/n?” he asked around.

His question was met with shrugs and indifferent shakes of the head. No one seemed to have noticed your absence amidst the buzz of the party. But then he noticed something else that he found a little odd. Yunho was nowhere to be seen either.

“Hey Baekho, have you Y/n? Or Yunho?” he asked one of Yunho’s close friends who was drinking with the rest. “I don’t know about Y/n. But Yunho said he was going to his room to get something” Baekho shrugged.

Jungkook muttered a small ‘thank you’ before making his way upstairs. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

Reaching Yunho’s room, he could hear muffled voices from inside. He tried to open the door but it was locked. “Yunho? Are you in there?” he knocked on the door, but no answer.

Frowning, he attempted to open the door. And miraculously, the door opened on its own, like the lock was being controlled.

When Jungkook opened the door, the sight in front of him made his heart drop.

“Yunho? Y/n?” his voice was barely audible due to shock.

His shoulders dropped as he took a step inside. Unknown to Jungkook, Yunho’s lips curled up in a smirk as he laid on the bed. And straddling him, hair tousled and eyes wide with shock, was you. Quickly wiping the smirk off his lips, Yunho pushed you off and got off the bed.

You, eyes wide with fear and desperation, got up and ran to reach out to Jungkook, your voice trembling as you tried to explain yourself. “Jungkook, l-listen to me” you said as you held his arm.

But Jungkook was quiet as he stared at you, standing there as his mind reeled with a thousand emotions. Before you could go on to say anything else, Yunho cut in.

“Your girlfriend isn't all innocent as she plays Jungkook” he said as he fixed his clothes. “I tried to stop her, and remind her that she has a boyfriend, just she just wouldn’t listen” he tried to explain.

All Jungkook did was stare and listen to what was being said. “You lying bastard!” you screamed, lunging towards the blond haired vampire and grabbing him by the collar.

“We’re going home” Jungkook’s deep murderous voice spoke up, and you froze at the chilling tone that you never heard before.

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the room, and you briefly turned to Yunho who smirked as he waved his hand at you.

“Jungkook wait! He’s lying! That’s not the truth!” you protested as you tried to keep up with the speed that he was pulling you with. But he said nothing.

When you finally reached downstairs, all eyes were on you. “Stop!” you shouted, stopping in your tracks and harshly pulling your arm out of your boyfriend’s tight hold. Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, your hands trembling as you clutched your dress.

“We’re not leaving until you know the truth!” you said.

“Stop making a scene Y/n” Jungkook gritted his teeth as he stepped towards you. “I’m not Jungkook! Your best friend is a fucking liar! He tried to-”

“I think you had quite a lot to drink Y/n, you should go home and rest” you heard Yunho’s voice cut you off. You saw Yunho making his way downstairs and the guests made way for him to walk through towards you.

“You’re my best friend’s girlfriend Y/n, I would never have any ill intentions about you” he looked at you with a soft gaze, but you knew it was all fake.

“It’s okay, I know you made a mistake, you don’t have to lie” he then said, and you didn’t miss the slight smirk that he gave to you.

At the moment, you felt your body fire up in anger. And then, you raised your hand and smacked him hard across the face. The crowd of guests gasped in shock as Yunho’s head snapped to the side, and Jungkook was quick to pull you back.

“You asshole!” you screamed. Yunho clenched his jaw as he tried to control his anger, and he raised his head back up and smiled at you. “You’re a monster, a sick bastard! You don’t deserve to be Jungkook’s friend, or anywhere near him!” you ranted.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”

Jungkook’s loud angry voice cut through the air, silencing everyone in the room. You flinched and turned to your boyfriend, swallowing a thick lump as you eyes his furious form.

Without saying another word, he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him. You turned and glared at Yunho for the last, whose smirk never seemed to fade the entire time.

The music faded into the background as you both reached outside. You stumbled along the way, trying to keep up with his swift pace, and your heart raced with anxiety.

“Jungkook please listen to me” you pleaded, but he remained quiet. His jaw clenched tightly as he dragged you towards the car.

┄┄┄┄┄

[𝟷𝟶:𝟶𝟶 𝚙.𝚖.]

The door swung open with a loud thud as Jungkook stumbled through, his eyes clouded with anger. The usually quiet and snug atmosphere shifted abruptly as he dragged you inside by the arm with a force that made you whimper in pain.

Your cries echoed through the large hallway, a desperate plea for him to release you from his iron grip. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the traces of blood from where his fingers dug into your delicate skin.

“Please, Jungkook, you're hurting me” you sobbed, your voice barely audible amidst the chaos of your entry. But Jungkook’s grip only tightened, his face contorted with rage as he pulled you further into the house.

Finally when you both reached the living room, he released you with a harsh shove, sending you sprawling to the floor. You curled up into a ball, clutching your injured arm as tears continued to stream down your face like waterfall.

For a moment, there was silence as you looked up at him in disbelief and fear. The only sound heard was his ragged breathing and your choked cries as he glared down at you.

This wasn’t him.

This wasn’t the man who promised you his love and protection.

Pushing yourself up, you steadied your trembling limbs. You then began taking cautious steps towards him as you reached your hand out for him.

“P-Please, hear me out, please baby” you pleaded with your shaky voice. But Jungkook was quick to push your hand away, his expression hardening as his fists clenched at his sides.

“What is there to hear about Y/n? I saw it, you were fucking all over him!” he yelled.

You violently shook your head in denial and grabbed his hands in your shaking ones, “n-no, it’s not what it looks like! Please, you have to believe me” you panicked.

“H-He asked me if I could fetch his phone c-charger from his room a-and I went to get it. T-Then he just came in out of n-nowhere a-and locked the door, a-and he-” you frantically blabbered, but Jungkook’s loud voice stopped you midway.

“STOP!” he screamed, causing you to flinch and cower in fear. “Don’t you even try to make up excuses.” he gritted his teeth as he took a step forward.

“Seriously Y/n? My best friend? You chose to fuck with my best friend?” he questioned as he took another step closer. Each step he took towards you, you took a step back, until you found yourself being trapped in between his intimidating presence and the brick wall behind you.

“It’s not like that Jungkook, he’s lying. Please listen to me, it’s all a misunderstanding” you cried, your eyes begging him to believe you. You let out a sharp gasp when he slammed his hand on the wall next to you.

“Shut up! Just shut up!” he yelled in your face. “Yunho and I’ve been best friends for years, way back before you or your grandparents were born. I know for a fact that he’s not what you’re trying to paint him as, so just fucking stop, okay?!” he said.

Your heart dropped, but then it started to race as you began to realise that the man you loved may be slipping away from you over a grave misunderstanding. Your shoulders dropped in defeat and all you could do was stare at him with your tearful eyes.

He wasn’t believing you.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” you asked, your voice barely above whisper.

Instead of answering, he leaned in closer to you, your noses almost touching, as his nose flared in anger. A choked sob escaped from you, “what do you think of me as Jungkook?” you questioned.

“Do you think I’m some kind of slut? Is that what you really think of me?” you silently cried.

“You know me better than anyone. You know what I love and what I hate. You know my fears. But most importantly, you know that I love you, and only you” you said. “I can’t believe you would question my loyalty” your words came out as a whisper.

You were angry. Hurt. Frustrated.

The man who was supposed to take your side was now against you, blinded by what he only saw on the surface and not the depth of the truth.

Not wanting to deal with him any longer, you pushed him off you and tried to walk away. But Jungkook quickly caught you by the arm and pulled you back, slamming you against the wall. You whined in pain as your back came in contact with the hard brick wall.

“Where do you think you’re going? We aren’t done talking yet” he snapped, and you felt his fingers digging in your shoulders. “We’ll talk when you’re in your fucking senses” you snapped back, glaring at him with your red and glossy eyes.

“Now let me go” you tried to remove yourself from his tight grip, but he was too strong. The struggle to break free from his hold would soon come to a stop when you heard a low inhuman growl. When you looked up at Jungkook, you saw something that made your blood run cold.

His once gentle gaze now glowed with a sinister crimson hue, and you watched in horror as his fangs elongated before your very eyes.

“J-Jungkook?” you stuttered in fear. A guttural growl escaped his lips, sending shivers down your spine as you realised. He wasn't just angry — he was something else entirely.

“You’re mine, and only fucking mine. Got it?” he growled. Your heart hammered in your chest, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps as you struggled to free yourself from his grasp. “S-Stop Jungkook, you’re s-scaring me” you tried to tell him.

But he was far from reality.

A terrified squeal escaped your mouth when he grabbed your face and pulled it close to his. “Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice barely audible above the pounding of your own heart. “Please stop, you’re scaring me baby” you choked on your sob.

But there was no humanity left in his gaze, no trace of the man you loved. Only a possessive rage that made your stomach churn with dread. This wasn’t your boyfriend. This was a creature of the night. A monster that everyone feared.

A vampire.

Your breathing was erratic. You struggled to breathe as the world spun around you. You clutched at your chest, your heart racing uncontrollably. And when it couldn’t withstand the weight of fear and distress, you felt yourself slipping. And before you knew it, your vision soon faded into darkness.

The last thing you remembered was your body dropping down, but a pair of strong arms caught you just before impact.

As Jungkook caught your limp form, his mind snapped back to reality. He blinked and shook his head as the haze of his vampire instincts faded away. Slowly, his eyes travelled down to your unconscious body, and his heart dropped like a stone in his chest.

“No…no no no” he panicked.

He cradled you close, his hands trembling as he brushed the strands of hair from your pale and tear stained face. “Y-Y/n?” he shook you, “baby wake up, I-I’m sorry” his voice cracked with desperation.

But you remained unresponsive. Your breathing was slow and faint, and your body was cold. “Fuck! What have I done?” a frustrated cry escaped from him. Regret was consuming him whole. But at the same time, anger boiled within him, directed not at you, but at himself for losing control. He didn’t mean to, but he was a monster after all.

His eyes stung with tears as he quickly picked you up in his arms and rushed you up to your shared bedroom. He kicked the door open and walked towards the bed. Gently placing you down, he fished out his phone from his back pocket. With shaking hands, he dialed his private doctor. After a few rings, the doctor picked up. Jungkook hurriedly expressed his urgency.

Ending the call, he chucked his phone on the nightstand. As he awaited help, Jungkook sat down next to your still form and tenderly held your hand, feeling his heart heavy with guilt. “I’m so sorry baby, I don’t know what got into me” he sniffled as his thumb gently caressed over your cold hand.

He knew he fucked up. He knew things weren’t going to be easy when you woke up, and he feared it would change your relationship forever.

Perhaps your parents were right, he really wasn’t any different to the other vampires. All of them were blood sucking creatures, and that perhaps that was their only purpose. Maybe he really wasn’t capable of loving anyone, let alone a human.

┄┄┄┄┄

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟻 𝚙.𝚖.]

Jungkook paced anxiously around the room as the doctor checked up on you. And after what felt like an eternity, the doctor finally straightened up and met his gaze with a reassuring smile.

“She's fine, Jungkook. It seems like she fainted because of shock and stress” he explained with a calm and steady voice. Jungkook’s shoulders sagged as he let out a shaky breath of relief.

“She just needs to rest for a while. I’ll give her a vitamin injection and it should help her gain some energy when she wakes up” he then explained. Jungkook nodded and let the man do his job.

The doctor, Dr. Kim, checked your vitals once again using his stethoscope and blood pressure monitor. Once he was done, he removed the stethoscope and covered you with a blanket before turning to face Jungkook.

“Nothing to worry about now, she’s going to be alright. She should be awake in the morning” he said to him. “Thank you Dr. Kim” Jungkook thanked as his tired eyes stared at him, his voice filled with gratitude.

“No problem, if anything else happens, do call me” he said, and Jungkook hummed. Having said that, he helped him back to his car.

┄┄┄┄┄

[𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚢 — 𝟶𝟾:𝟻𝟶 𝚊.𝚖.]

As the sunlight crept through the curtains, you began to stir from your slumber. With a soft groan, you slowly sat yourself up, your eyes squeezed shut against the throbbing headache. Your hands gently massaged your temples to soothe the pain, taking slow deep breaths.

As the dull ache subsided, you opened your eyes expecting Jungkooking to be sleeping next to you, but he wasn’t there. The side of his bed was neat and empty, like he hadn’t slept there at all.

The events of last night flooded back to you like a tsunami, and you couldn’t help but shiver. Your mind raced with many thoughts which were all over the place, but nothing more than dread and heartache. You weren’t ready to face him at all. You were simply scared to.

Removing the blanket, you got up from the, and you almost lost your balance which caused you to stumble. Your legs still shook even after everything yesterday, but you managed to push yourself to stand firm. You never thought you would have to be cautious in the very house you felt safe and protected. It felt as if you were living the way you have lived before you met Jungkook.

You looked around the room and gulped, nervous to move a muscle. You were scared he was going to jump in front of you with his menacing form and glowing red eyes.

But you felt icky and disgusted from Yunho’s touch, and you wanted to wash off every mark and scent of him from your body. Inhaling a breath, you took your first step, and you walked towards your wardrobe to grab clean pair clothes. You then proceeded to make your way into the bathroom.

After the shower, you changed into your blue jeans and plain white shirt. You stood in the middle of the room as you looked around with a heavy heart. The room, once filled with laughter and love, now felt cold and unfamiliar to you.

Shutting your eyes for a brief moment, you let out a shaky breath and controlled yourself from breaking down. You had one thought in your chaotic mind, and it was that you needed to get out of here. You opened your eyes and went to grab a large suitcase and a duffel bag. You then began grabbing all your clothes from the wardrobe and stuffing them into the suitcase.

Each item you carefully folded and placed into the suitcase held memories of yours and Jungkook’s time together: the pale yellow sundress which you wore on your first date, the denim jacket which you wore when you had your first kiss, the polka dot pyjamas you wore when you both had your first argument, and the red silk dress you wore the night he made love to you for the first time.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, your heart growing heavier as the wardrobe became emptier. Tears welled up in your eyes as you zipped up the suitcase and the duffel bag, and your hands dropped to your sides as you stepped back a little.

You looked around the room one last time, not missing a single corner. You looked at the photo frame on the wall above the bed, it was the two of you smiling together, taken on a sunny day in the park. You could help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest.

You could feel the muscles in your chest tighten in despair at the thought of how all this was ending. How had it all come to this? But you knew you couldn’t stay here anymore. Despite your love for Jungkook, you couldn't shake the fear that was bubbling inside you.

Maybe what happened yesterday was a wake up call, that no matter how much he loved and cared about you, the shadow of the monster that he was would always be part of him. But most importantly, you couldn’t ignore the betrayal you felt and the lack of trust he had in you.

Sniffling and wiping away your tears, you grabbed your things and turned around to leave. But the sight of Jungkook standing by the door made you gasp in fear and drop everything you hand in your hands. “Y/n?” his voice was calm and low, something that would’ve usually soothed you, but not now.

Jungkook looked at you and your packed belongings before his eyes turned to you. “You’re…leaving?” he asked with a hurt voice. But you stayed quiet as your breathing started to quicken.

Jungkook knew you were still shaken so he tried to be careful and calm with his approach. “Can we talk? Please baby” he pleaded as he took a step forward, only for you to take two steps back instinctively. “N-No, stay a-away” your voice shook. Jungkook’s heart sank at the rejection, but nothing more than the fear that was written all over your face.

You were scared of him.

He felt a lump form in his throat and tears prickle in his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you” his voice cracked. He knew you would be scared, he just didn’t know how bad it was until he took another step forward with his hand reaching out to you.

You screamed as you backed away and fell to the ground. And you pulled your knees to your chest while your hands clamped to your ears. “P-Please, d-don’t come near m-me” you fearfully said. “Y/n-”

“I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me” you cried, cutting him off.

And in that moment, Jungkook felt his whole world fall apart. His eyes widened slightly and his breath hitch, and his knees grew weak before he dropped down to the floor. The silence was loud and deafening, only your muffled sobs and ragged breathing could be heard.

Who would’ve thought that a bloodthirsty monster like him would cry over a mortal human whom he scarred and traumatised for life? “B-Baby, I’m not going to hurt you” he choked on his cry as tears streamed down his face, “please don’t be scared of me”.

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as you continued to cry, your fear too overwhelming to be soothed by mere words.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry” he slowly crawled towards you, but you immediately pushed yourself back. Jungkook’s heart only sank deeper and deeper. His usual pale face was flushed as he desperately tried to comfort you, and somewhat himself.

But he knew he was losing you, and the reality of it all scared him. Jungkook knew that whatever that he tried to do, it wasn’t going to work. You were beyond his reach now.

“But you did Jungkook” you finally spoke up as you raised your head, “you did hurt me” you said.

You looked at his crying form as his eyes made desperate pleas towards you. “You hurt me when you didn’t believe me, you hurt me with your words, and you hurt me the way you manhandled me like I was some ragged doll” you snapped at him.

“If I stayed conscious any longer, what were the chances that you weren’t going to hurt me?” you lashed out, questioning him. Jungkook remained silent as he questioned himself.

Was he really going to hurt you?

“I wasn’t thinking straight, I really wasn’t. I’m so sorry” he croaked.

“No amount of sorry is going to fix this Jungkook. The damage is done” you shook your head. “I was begging you to listen to me, to believe me, but you didn’t. You just let your jealousy and insecurities get the best of you” you continued.

“I don’t care how long you’ve known Yunho for and how good of a friend he is to you, but he’s a sick bastard who tried to take advantage of me. And just when I tried to fight back and you walked in, he took it as a perfect opportunity to paint me as a cheater, and you believed him” you said.

“I’m sorry” he kept mumbling as he silently cried. “You know how scared I am of vampires already, did you really think I would ever cheat on you with one?” you asked. You took off your leather jacket and rolled your sleeves up to your shoulders.

“If I had really cheated on you, I wouldn’t have these on my arms” you said as you pointed at the dark spots of bruises on both of your arms, most importantly the hand print around your neck.

Jungkook’s cries came to a halt when his eyes landed on all the marks on your arms and neck. He stopped breathing for a second and his defeated eyes suddenly grew dark and enraged.

“The worst part is, I don’t even know who caused which ones, Yunho or you” you said, your voice sounding tired. Jungkook’s heart sank at your words, and it was the realisation that he and Yunho were no different which haunted him. Yunho hurt you, but so did he.

Jungkook quickly crawled closer to you and you let him. His cold and shaky hands reached to cup your face and lift your head up a little. You flinched at his touch and your body stiffened, but you let him. His watery eyes scanned the bruise around your neck, specifically the hand print, and you could see the fury bubbling inside his eyes and the way his body violently shook.

“H-He-”

“yes Jungkook, he, your fucking best friend” you interrupted. “And there’s no point going up to him now, because it’s too late. What’s done is done. He won’t regret a thing even if you beat the crap out of him” you told him.

Jungkook hated that you were right. He knew Yunho seeked pleasure in destroying things and hurting others. He just wished he had realised it sooner when he tried to hurt you.

“I’m not going to beat the crap out of him” Jungkook shook his head, “I’m going fucking kill him” he said.

You couldn’t help but chuckle in mockery, “too late don’t you think?” you looked at him. “I don’t care what you do with him Jungkook, just please,” your eyes softened, “just please leave me out of this mess, and let me go” you begged.

“I’m scared, okay? After what you pulled yesterday, it made me realise that you’re no different to the rest of the vampires. And as much as it hurts to let you go, I know it’s the best for me and to keep myself and my family safe. I hope you can at least respect my decision and leave me alone after this” you softly cried.

Jungkook’s shoulders dropped and his heart shattered into pieces. He knew this was coming, but he didn’t prepare to deal with the pain it came with.

“And you know what I’ve been thinking of lately before all this happened?” you then began, and all Jungkook could do was sit and listen.

“I’m a human who is bound to die when my time comes. I will grow old while you stay young and live for many more years to come. How was our relationship going to work? When I die, would you live on to find your next lover and forget about me? Could there be a way for me to live with you forever?” you spoke.

Jungkook was thrown back at your words, but coming to think about it, his heart dropped. “You know I would search for a lifetime to find a way for us to be together forever” he said, and you chuckled. “But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. Not when you doubted my loyalty” you told him.

You grabbed your jacket and wore it before standing up. Your legs shook and you were about to fall, but Jungkook quickly caught you. But you flinched and pushed him away. Jungkook felt his chest tighten and he clenched his fists as he retracted his hands.

He knew your decision was final and that he had to let you go. There was nothing he could do but blame himself for what he had caused. “I’m sorry princess, I really am. I never meant to hurt you like this” his lips quivered the spoke, “and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you” he cried. 

Your heart ached watching him cry. Vampires weren’t emotionally sensitive and known for having thick skin. But with Jungkook, you knew he was truly regretting. You could see how defeated and desperate he was at the same time. He lost you, and he was scared of what his life would be without you.

“It really didn’t have to end this way Jungkook. I love you, but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me, let alone someone who would kill the woman he loves over his own insecurities” you responded. Jungkook shut his eyes as he cried, gripping a fistful of his hair.

“I’m sorry” he kept repeating like a chant, as if he wished it would magically fix everything. “Yeah, me too” you said. You stared at him for the last time before grabbing your things and leaving.

That was the last time you had seen Jungkook, and it tore you to pieces having to leave a man who you thought was the one. But turns out your parents were right all along — he was just like the rest of the night hunters.

You didn’t know how to face your parents after this, but you knew that as long as you were safe, it was all that mattered to them. When you moved back with your parents, they welcomed you like a lost child finally being returned home.

They felt bad about what happened between you and Jungkook, but a big part of them were relieved that you were no longer associated with a creature like him. It was hard adjusting to your new routine without Jungkook, and you had a few mental breakdowns every now and then thinking about him.

You missed him so bad no matter how much you hated him. He was your first love, and getting over your first love is never easy.

But there has always been a nagging feeling inside of you that no matter how much you both loved each other, the two of you were just not meant to be. While you grow old and rot away after death, Jungkook will continue with his life for a hundred more years. And you couldn’t help but think of the possibility of him finding a new lover.

The thought of it all made you want to dig up a hole and bury yourself in it.

But at one point, you knew you had to learn to move on and not let the pain drag you forever. You took it as a lesson to not trust anyone and always look out for yourself and the people you cared about. You hoped that Jungkook would keep your words and not meddle with you and your life again.

Days blended into nights as Jungkook roamed the darkness. His immortal existence stretched before him, a seemingly endless expanse of emptiness. He never felt so lost and alone in his entire lifetime.

He didn’t know what his purpose was anymore without you, and the pain of the heartbreak will forever haunt him. He couldn’t keep the promise he made to his mother, to never hurt the person he loved, yet here he was.

But Jungkook kept his promise when he said he would never hunt down a human. Instead, he spent his nights hunting for the blood of animals in the nearby forest. Despite his forced isolation, Jungkook couldn't bring himself to cut all ties with you. From a distance, he would watch over you like a silent guardian in the shadows.

He remembered your words and promised to not let a single vampire go near you and your family. But he still longed for your touch, yet he knew that his very presence could only bring you harm.

But Jungkook had more pressing matters to attend to than his broken heart.

Yunho was still around doing what he usually did, like he didn’t do anything wrong. So there he stood, in front of his best friend’s house, with a wooden stake tightly gripped in his hand. His jaw was tightly clenched and his gaze hardened as he huffed out a breath before kicking the door open.

Despite his immortal nature, Jungkook had never felt more human than in that moment, consumed by the agony of lost love and the burning desire for revenge.

There, in the dimly lit living room, sat Yunho who had a smirk playing on lips. “Oh? Jungkook?” Yunho slightly tilted his head, acting clueless.

But Jungkook didn’t say a word, because he knew Yunho was well aware why he was here. With a gaze as cold as death itself, he advanced towards him, the stake glinting ominously in the moonlight.

There was no need for explanations, no room for apologies. Only justice, swift and merciless, could mend the shattered fragments of his wounded heart and joy.

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗗

@𝗷𝗸𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰

©️

[ninibeingdelulu]

— headcanons ft. eren yaeger, armin arlet, jean kirstein, levi ackerman, sae itoshi, meguru bachira, oliver aiku, michael kaiser

How the aot and bllk boys (man for levi duh) react when they’re jealous. (Separated)

armin & meguru :

Armin's all gentle smiles and soothing words, even when jealousy eats at him inside. But that boyish gaze goes all moony and distant if he thinks someone's getting too flirty around his girl.

Meguru wears his heart on his sleeve in the most adorable way. Can't hide the wounded puppy vibes and dejected pouts whenever another guy checks you out - retreating into insecure mumbles until you shower him in reassurance and cuddles.

Both prefer dealing with jealousy through quiet clinginess. Armin starts finding every excuse to sidle up beside you, sneaking little hand-squeezes and playing footsie under tables until you're the sole target of those puppy-dog blues again.

As for Meguru, just try prying his koala-hugs off you once the green-eyed monster rears up. Trailing you room-to-room with those massive bambi eyes begging for constant little pecks and whispered affirmations that all's well.

Honestly, their reactions are so damn wholesome - making you melt into puddles over how lucky you are. Because Armin and Meguru have zero bones about baring those insecurities and need for constant validation when jealous, appealing to your nurturing instincts.

jean & oliver :

Jean's the definition of saltiness incarnate when worked up over some douchecanoe making moves. One second snapping sarcastic remarks in true wiseass style, only to deflate into petulant, brooding silences while scowling absolute daggers at the source of his ire.

Oliver radiates this aura of sneering superiority like the cocky asshole he is - until you bring another guy around the mix, that is. Then it's like watching his ego shrivel up in real-time as those cutting snide comments get more frantic and eager to impress.

Neither outright admits feeling jealous, naturally. Jean's too much of a prickly tsundere to open up like that, venting through increasingly aggressive banter and machismo overcompensation instead.

Oliver on the other hand masks his emotions behind bravado and nonchalance - until he's outright sulking like a petty bitch. Little comments about how he's "surrounded by delusional fuckboys" whenever your eyes linger too long.

But strip away those salty layers? A surprisingly clingy neediness to their flare-ups - making grabby moves and crowding in close until your full attention's back on worshipping their prowess. Jean snaking his arms around your waist or Oliver literally tugging you into his lap with smug satisfaction.

levi & michael :

Living embodiments of the 'ice cold stoicism' stereotype when jealous - seemingly nonplussed while internally simmering. But those sharp gunmetal gazes take on this menacing bite, silently peeling challengers apart with lethal intensity.

You'd never know it bugged Levi much, aside from that imperceptible twitching tic in his jaw. Not until he corners you alone in some secluded nook to silently tower over you with molten pewter embers, finally unleashing that restrained possessiveness.

As for Michael, his suave composure never slips - unless you really look for the micro warning signs. Those broad shoulders squaring up a fraction, faintly challenging pheromones wafting off his form at random passersby catching your gaze in a silent warning: 'She's mine.'

Neither demands verbal reassurances or constant affection when jealous (like they'd ever be so weak). But they crave physical reminders of ownership - whether Levi outright hoisting you against the nearest wall for frenzied, filthy claims...or Michael wordlessly seizing your collar before devouring your mouth into searing, desperate plunders of dominion.

They'll punish you later for inciting such unbecoming loss of control, of course. But for those volcanic instants, you've never felt more secure as their coveted prize to be marked and possessed at their impulse.

eren & sae :

Imagine a pair of possessive, volatile firebrands who wear jealousy like a hair-trigger aggression when set off. Because god help any poor sap who so much as breathes in your direction the wrong way when Eren or Sae's on the warpath.

Eren makes zero effort masking those raging, emerald-hot glowers whenever he's pissed over someone angling for your attention. Never one to pull punches - he'll barge over and start snapping, chest-puffing intimidation tactics like the alpha hardcase he is.

Sae, as for him, is this cool, cocky swagger on the surface over intruders. But piss him off enough, and that's when the foul-mouthed tirades rain from his laidback charisma...openly sneering about "handling the competition" while issuing blatant possessive displays.

Neither boy wastes effort on subtext or 'hints.' If jealous, they become wildly handsy and overt in staking aggressive marks - yanking your bodies flush together before ravaging any visible piece of flesh into lurid lovebites and hickies as clear 'backoff' signage.

Expect Eren and Sae busting out their filthiest dirty talk, too. Vulgar obscenities about how much their woman fucking craves every growled inch of their exclusive claim on you. How their prowess leaves zero need for any other paltry admirers in your orbit...right as they crowd you deeper into some poor sap's periphery. Absolute savagery.