#flesh requiem

[onlyhurtforaminute]

PAGANIZER-FLESH REQUIEM

[batravatra]

I Love You...

Decided to draw the final moments of J with Tessa from the final chapter of pocketknife's (@nuzipilled) Requiem

Had to re-read the chapter several times for this. Yup, it fucked me up just as much the second and third times as the first time; was a mess for a while

[upsidedownsmore]

Tonatiuh Requiem

I made this Styanax drawing for a contest being ran by @medusacaptures for her 2nd Warframe creator program anniversary!! You can find the link to her post about it here! (though it's ending in like 7 hours as of writing this, oops lol)

You might also perhaps recognize the eyestrain colors from a certain Tennotober piece... :)

(...i was running out of time lmao)

Alternate colors:

Timelapse:

Kind of an unhinged one tbh lol, had a lot of struggles with the initial rough sketches as I tried to figure out what I even wanted this drawing to be. One of the recurring ideas was with something relating the parazon with Requiem mods with Styanax Tonatiuh, but it just felt like too big of a stretch and I couldn't figure out the posing fast enough

WIPs and grayscaled alts below the cut!

god he's so hot

[penumbralwoods]

so ive been trying to beat this glass frog for almost an hour and he hasn't shut up the whole time

[yandere-wishes]

｡ ₊°༺Meet me at our spot༻°₊ ｡

｡ ₊°༺Meet Me At Our Spot By The Anxiety༻°₊ ｡

જ⁀➴ Lost the ask for this but hopefully the Anon sees this and knows it's for them: excitedly chewing on legos OMG NO cause this is so juicy, like let me just rip out Jason's heart for a sec. Let me fill him with rage and break his heart a little.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ When Jason dies, he leaves a hole in your heart. One that you're certain the Red Hood can mend.

ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=ᗢ=♡=♡=ᗢ=♡

Your sister doesn't appreciate the little bird that follows her like a shadow.

She says his presence is like an eclipse, an eerie, tiring thing.

Some day she'll miss the repartee, the attention, the "friend" she made along the way, someday when the boy lays in a coffin six feet deep, as little birds tend to do. She'll realize that he took a part of her with him. Buried beneath the earth, left to rot and waste.

Of course, she only grows more frustrated when you say such things.

When you remind her how fleeting and fragile this life is.

He was the happiest of them all. Cheerful little bird following his father through the shadows, chirping in joy as he skipped to echolocation. Playing with a naive kitty who never fully understood that they were meant to be enemies.

It's funny looking back, realizing how fickle children truly are. How you used to joke so earnestly about eating him whole and plucking his feathers from between your teeth. As you both sat on a skyscraper's edge sharing a juice box. Jason would laugh, would throw his head back, and kick his legs.

"That'll just mean we'd be together forever. I can haunt you from the inside."

You do truly wish it had been you that had killed him. That you had gotten the chance to peel the meat from his bones and savor their flavor upon your tongue. You would have enjoyed the crunch and pop of the cobalt between your teeth. Enjoyed finally, finally being able to crack open his skull and unburden him of his terrors.

But in the end, the kitty cat never reached the robin.

No, it was in fact the clown that gobbled him whole.

There's a part of depression that's relatively saccharine. The isolation and the silver of worry you feel, sweating off people when they note the vibrations of melancholy you emit. You see your mother's concern and your sister's vexation. You like how it makes you feel powerful. Like a divine decree to burn and kill. But you never do go after the clown. Your mother had forbidden such fruitless endeavors.

"I don't need you in a coffin as well".

Still, you long to wring the Joker's neck between your claws.

You had met him in the dark of an alley almost three months ago.

Requiem is held here often, in the shadow of your skyscraper. The armistice sanctuary where the two of you had spent the final quarter of your nights. No war, no fighting, just two kids in masks lying in the moon's gentle rays.

Your bag of jewels slumps over your shoulder. It feels like the weight of the world.

In the dark, a red thing moves. The ground shakes under his steps as the gloom slips off his body. He is rejected by the dark and unwanted by the light. "What you got in the bag Kitty Cat?" his voice is distorted, like an echo escaping a pit.

You jump, clawing for his arm upon descent, but the fabric he wears is too thick, the attack never reaches his skin. He uses your confusion to land a kick between your ribs. You slid over the concrete street, friction slivering the side of your uniform and the flesh beneath. When you look up again, he's seized the jewels and is halfway through scaling a nearby building. He turns to you, the white eyes of his mask sink into the crevasses of your soul. His fingers touch the side of his masked head in a mock salute.

"Haven't lost your touch sweetheart"

You spend most of the day sleeping in the sun, the only bearable thing left to do. You dream in shades of sugar plums and lilies. Sweet things that keep the bitter nightmares away.

It's gotten so hard to wake up lately.

So hard to stay awake.

Batman once told you that time heals all wounds. Maybe when you're older you'll forget the frantic patter of your heart when Jason smiled at you.  

A shadow blocks the sun, making you stir. Red menace that bears death like a perfume. When you look at him, your body chills. You choke on foreign nostalgia. Deja vu pricks at your bones trying to engrave itself upon the marrow. Why does the Red Hood feel like a forgotten memory? Like a lullaby, your mother used to sing.

He doesn't leave, he just stares. Unblinking white lights instead of eyeballs. Trained on your body. You feel naked under his gaze. It's almost as if he's torn you apart and memorized every little detail about you. Refusing to sew you up again. He leaves you an open cadaver for his cruel entertainment.

Hours pass, he only ever stares.

You've stopped sleeping since that day.

His ghost haunts you. Flickering in the moonlight as you sink beside an alley wall. When you look up, Jason is there beaming down at you. Jejune, unscarred in every way. You feel phantom kisses across your knuckles.

Just a street cat and her dead birdie.

When did depression and insomnia become such good friends?

"I miss you" you whispered, as tears slid down your cheeks. You blink, trying to relieve the irritation in your eyes. When something blunt and cold presses against your forehead. He's there, the red menace, the annoying thorn that wedged too deeply into your flesh. Pointing his favorite handgun at your head. You almost wish he would shoot.

When the light hits his helmet just right, it's like an open head wound.

"You look so ethereal in the moonlight, like a corpse bleeding out."

He's taken aback by your statement, he tenses, his fingers twitch. In anger or shock, you aren't quite sure. "You're really disturbed, you know that kitty?" His tragicomic lilt tastes so irritably sweet. You can't help but laugh like a madman.

Maybe Batman was right, maybe time does heal all wounds.

Maybe you've finally found your eschar.

When Red Hood punches you, hard enough to fracture bone, you can't help but relish in sickly-sweet sentimentality.

He's so familiar but you just don't know why.

Osteonic, pneumonic your body remembers while you do not.

"Keep throwing punches like that and I might think you hate me, darling." You blow him a fake kiss before he sweeps your feet, making you fall back.

He straddles your hips, pinning you to the ground. You gave him a fake pout before his hand is on your throat. Squeezing, harder and harder. It's like he's trying to push stars inside you, making you connect them and form constellations to say everything he never can.

Spots dance across your vision as you offer him a final giggle.

"Come on kitty, I thought you could take a little roughhousing."

It happens again.

He's so haunting in the daylight. Like a ghost twice dead.

He's staring

He's always staring

You didn't need to see his open casket

You would have thought him sleeping

He's dead he's dead he's dead

You say it so often these days it's like a mantra.

Jason, Red Hood.

Where does one begin and the other end?

You can't keep pushing the ghost of your childhood friend into the first new vigilante in town. But you can't help it.

It's like Jason's been reincarnated.

Like he's finally returned.

You've taken to reading Hamlet.

Not because you want to.

But because you feel like the answer to these phantoms lies between the ivory pages.

Or maybe it's because you wish to study Ophelia's madness. In hopes of finding a cure for your own.

You feel like Ophelia drowning in the river creek.

You feel like Hamlet arguing with apparitions.  

"I hate you." He screams one night, he's been chasing you for the better part of an hour after your recent heist at the museum. You laugh and throw him a kiss as you jump to the next building. But midair Red Hood tackles you, using your body to cushion his fall. Your bodies rest entwined atop that familiar skyscraper. "I love this place" you mutter from underneath him. "I used to come here with my best friend when we were young. It was..."

"...Our spot" he finishes. He lets out a bitter chuckle that sounds more like a profanity aimed straight at you. He stands again, knees keeping you pinned down, digging into your hips. His fist collides with your face again. He does it so often now you've come to almost love them.

"Jason" you murmur as the blood trickles down your nose, you feel something in your eye pop as you laugh. "You remind me so much of him".

Red Hood stands taller. For a second the world stills. He reaches behind and pulls up his helmet...

There's a popped blood vessel in your eye. Or many a concussion has bloomed within your skull. Regardless the vision flickering before you can't be real.

"I've got you under my skin" he murmurs as he lays a chaste kiss upon your cheek. "No matter what I do, I just can't get rid of the thoughts of you." He pulls your body up and embraces you so tightly. You only whisper his name like a scared prayer. Inhale his scent like ichore. He's too solid to be a ghost. Or maybe you're finally dead.

Jason buries his face in your neck. Muffling his sobs as he bites into your shoulder, letting your taste erupt inside his mouth. He's missed you, he's missed you more than anything else. It hurts knowing you'd be willing to replace him with someone else. Hurts that you fell for the first wise-cracking man in a mask that you met. But it's okay, it's fine, he can punish you later. For now, all that matters is that you're right where you belong.

At your spot, with him.

"I'll never leave you again kitty, I promise"

[amiinkles]

Grief

Alt version below cut

Ok yeah I'm thinking about minos lore again...

Listening to the requiem leitmotif makes me so sad for him everytime...I can just imagine him crying in the flesh prison while knowing that his own corpse is dismantling the very thing he built and treasured, the people he loved too much

My own sort of hc for him as that he weeps a lot after dying by Gabriel's hands, not from being stuck in a prison or dying a painful and unjust death, but because he is imagining how much his people are suffering

In a way I kind of see a bit of a link with the God in Ultrakill, forever haunted by what they have done to their 'children'

But idk maybe I'm just talking out of my ass here lol I just really love adding my own interpretations and such to existing lore, and Ultrakill lore also pokes at my religious trauma a bit

I hope you like my rambling cuz there's gonna be a lot more coming..,.

[bluetooththereptile]

The Crimson Snuff

(Yandere vampire family x female elf reader x yandere elven family)

(The video is not mine, original post, It's from the anime vampire hunter D bloodlust )

[Again, as I usually say in everything I write, English is not my first language, so if there is any mistakes made in creation of this text, I apologize]

Note: this text is inspired by this post.

Another note: for better imagination I recommend seeing costumes of the movie Le reign margot and the anime vampire hunter D blood lost for the general atmosphere of it, for more inspiration you can also look up Requiem chevalier vampire by Olivier ledriot. All of the characters belong to me, and if you'd like to read more of this universe, I'd love to provide. This is my take on some tropes of manhwas and if you are the type to love the obsessive family over long lost daughter or something like that, I'm tired of them lol. Enjoy this while listening to the harpsichord playing!

Another another note: it's sort of a sci-fi fantasy gothic setting

I was thinking of making this longer than other stuff I've made since it's oc and I'd like to ramble about details.

Tw: yandere tendencies, mentions of death, torture and injuries, emotional and physical abuse, racism (fantasy races).

@shenryu-sama

"Damn..." your phone fell from your hand and hit the mattress with a soft thud as you tried to process what you had just read "How can someone be so...cruel?" You mumbled to yourself, your voice muffled under your blanket. Holding your hand against your mouth, You felt your stomach churn as you tried not to recall the scene you had just read, but the image relayed in your mind over and over. You had read far worse things, but why this one stuck in your head and made you so sick, you didn't know. You looked at your phone's screen which was set to low brightness to not hurt your already throbbing eyes since your nightly habit was catching up with you, and watched the words dance under your unfocused gaze as you remembered the scene, your imaginative mind trying to create it for your mind's eye.

"As he strode about the sacred garden, the flowers that pulsated with the holy energy of the goddess perished in the vicinity of his dark Aura that lingered on his person, their withered petals turning to ashes with the soft gust of wind his floating cape made. The statue of the saintess of the household cracked with the sheer magnitude of his very presence, her open arms falling off of her marble-carved body onto the dead soil. No creature of the night had reached such power, not without feeding from the countless souls ripped off their mortal flesh by their sharp claws, and yet...he seemed to have exceeded the qualifications of the dark ones, their heads bowed in respect to the depravity of their creation.

His smirk grew more sinister as he watched the massive mansion burn in the purple flames of his mages, the once blue-colored roofs now in flames, the top-tier wood turning to cursed coal that would never burn for anything holy, the screams of the inhabitants locked inside, in the air. He stood and watched, circling the small locked box between his fingers as he usually did, the smooth surface of the metallic box reminiscent of her soft skin, was a balm to his senses, well, at least the senses that were not numbed to the world outside, his hollow mind filled with nothing but carnage and...her.

"Ahh sweetling, not even he is burning as good as you did" his whisper was lost to the wind feeding the frenzied flames, and a soft scoff left his thinned lips "Even if he claimed to be the purest" he spat the word to the statue of the saintess that stared ahead, just as he. The familiar numb feeling in his mind reached downwards to his nonbeating heart, as his thumb gently pushed the button of the lock to make the box's lid open gently with a soft click, he didn't want to waste even a speck of the crimson powder inside "May I sweetling?" He asked in mock gentleness as he buried the tip of his claw into the powder "Bon appétit" he murmured with mockery, bringing the snuff to his nose and inhaling the finely grounded dust.

His eyes fluttered in ecstasy, the wide pupils moving upwards before rolling  "Ahhh sweetling" he called once more for his lady, her pure ashes coming down to his nasal cavity, coating his mouth in her taste, her perfume mixed with the ashes filling his senses, the tip of his pointed ears warming, just like a blushing boy...well, as much as his corrupt body would. "Watch sweetling, watch as I avenge us" he gestured to the State raised to ashes "Watch as they burn just as you did my beloved, I made them pay, just as I did you"

You wanted to throw up, what kind of a sick man would literally cannibalize his wife through snuff?! You trashed about in frustration, this villain was something else! Sure most villains were sick and twisted, but this bastard was supposed to fucking love his wife! What was all of this?! Why did it bother you so much though? It seemed like the scene made your own flesh burn, ack! This cursed novel sucked!

"Aaaaah!" You muffled your frustrated scream in your pillow, trying to be silent in the dead of the night. With a weak stupid protagonist who was supposed to be a Mary Sue "saintness" and a dumb male lead who didn't know boundaries and was toxic to his teeth, you didn't know how on the website's loaded server the author would manage to make this story make sense, which it did not! Plus the art style sucked! Ugh! After a few chapters of bodies proportioned so badly that made any good artist cry, you had switched to the novel to find any redeeming qualities since some stories were better in novel form but nope! It was still horse dump.

You scrolled past the text to read the comments, your eyes moving from one to another, everyone agreed with you on that, the novel sucked, many had thought it was because of the translation but a few had said it was just the same in its original language, a few had said the world building and the villain were the best parts and yet the compliment wasn't that good given the genuine sickness of the villain's character, UGH! Well the villain was as obscure as a shadow, you hadn't seen him in his drawn form, and you thanked the universe for that, after reading that scene you didn't want to associate anything with him!

Puffing the stale air of the covers you had pulled over your head you finally let it slide down, inhaling fresh air. You reached out for the VR headset you had managed to sneak out of your cousin's place, which they didn't even care about one bit since they were busy with their new gadgets, and put it on, making watching something light-hearted and nice or playing animal crossing would help you relax your mind, but as you shifted to sit up with the headset on, your phone from your mattress on the floor and you cursed under your breath, reaching down blindly to find it.

Your fingers moved on the floor, searching around, you bit your lip to focus, reaching a little further down without going off the bed, your lazy self not wanting to leave its warmth, but then you knocked the glass of water on your nightstand and it fell on your head, you gasped from the shock of it all, freezing, not just because of the water but also from the sharp "zzt" sound coming from the headset oh shi-

.

The sound of bombs could be heard in the distance, the troops of goddess Mekt kept bombarding the fallen city of Balna, but you knew the cavalry troops were on their way, everyone knew, and that was why there was a sense of dreadful urgency in the air that was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The scent of the burnt flesh was in the air, making you sick to the point you thought you'd throw up by the polished boots of your kin, knowing whose flesh it was made it far far worse.

"I...I can't..." your voice shook as you clutched the large rifle in your hands, your limbs shaking from the weight of the weapon loaded with silver bullets. Your gaze looked upwards, in the dim light of the night, the shadows of the torches painted the pale faces of the company mounted on their steeds, the animals agitated from the noises and the sense of impending doom of the darkness that came with the approaching cavalry, their neighs jolting you here and there, the blood on your dress clung to your corset and skin.

"Just as incompetent as your mother" The ancient elf gritted his teeth in frustration, his sharp pale gaze on your person, his pointed ears sharply pointed upwards in a sign of anger and irritation.  "Do as you are told, woman!" He hissed, reaching forward to grasp your hair, pulling it so hard that you thought a chunk of the strands were ripped off "I said kill them! Have you gone deaf?!" He shook your upper body by your hair, your scalp burning "You are the only one who can kill them without their curse infecting you! Do it before it's too late!" He threw you back onto the ground, your face hitting the stoned ground, the warmth of blood dripping off of your bruised lip.

Your blurry eyes turned to the tall couple embracing each other a few feet away, the dark cape of the male draped over his mate, holding her head against his chest in an attempt to hide her from the danger of their inescapable death, his own eyes set upwards onto the stars, you'd think the silver-haired vampire was thinking of his home planet, he had so many times told you of his sweet memories from his lands, where he had flourished and thrived. Maybe in his own faith and hope, he thought his dark soul would join his ancestors in an eternal dance with the dark ones, maybe he thought this fate wasn't going to be the end of the love he shared with his beloved.

"I can't-" You didn't want to harm them, no, you could not, not when they had accepted you in with open arms, and not, especially when they grounded him- a pained gasp left you as pain coursed through your veins, the magic-infused staff of your father hitting your back over and over as the elven lord unleashed his frustration upon you, "I said pull.the.damned.trigger you incompetent pathetic excuse of an elf! Do it before I end them with you just out of spite of seeing you flayed!" He kept hitting you down, the voices of the couple before you muffled by the rushing blood into your ears...or maybe it was your own blood?

"Ardana!" A voice called, nearly beast-like, mixed with the frantic screams of the female vampire "Let me go! Let me go to her Eckhart! My child!", the beastly growls and demands of you being left alone though soon silenced the female one "Let her go! Let her go you filthy elves!" your haunched form didn't have to turn to see the caged vampire to know from where it was coming from, bound with silver cuffs, his flesh burning by the blessed alloy, his mind a frenzy both from the pain and the weight of his mate being beaten down in refusal of killing his parents.

You refused to do as you were told, your limbs crawling to hold onto the leg of the elven lord, your blood-covered limbs clutching onto the silky fabric of his robes, your will long fused with titanium. You knew the death of the dukedom's lady and lord would mean chaos, you had many times rethought your actions over and over, dreadful of the destiny carved out for you, but the staff's attack on your body were turning unbearable, your muscles giving in onto the beatings as your father let go of his long-held fury, making you his punchbag. You needed to buy time and it'd be over! Just a few more seconds and the cavalry would be here, just a few more...seconds...and your fate...and his...would change...

"ARDANA!"

The gravity of the ground pulled your unconscious body down, your soul long gone into the realm of dreams that you couldn't feel the pain of the impact "My sweetling! No! NO!" The desperate roars of the bound vampire were soon mixed in with the sound of the hooves of the mechanic steeds, your father's horrified gaze not leaving your bloodied form as he was pulled away by his men, his lips calling for your mother, his hands shaking with remorse and guilt.

It'd be worth it...right?

.

Cuteness Aggression is real, you had realized it early on when you were swallowing the fluffy head of the feline creature on your lap as you kissed her over and over, her fur getting into your nostrils but you could careless when you were squeezing her gently, and the cat actually enjoyed it! Trifine she was, a good-sized feline with sharp baby blue eyes and white fluffy hair, her meows soft and girly-like, her presence always glued to your side, she was a gift upon your coming of age ceremony, and the magic-infused animal was with you ever since. Her ears twitched as a butterfly sat on it's head, looking like an airplane with a look saying "Really now?" You giggled, scratching it's chin to which she swooned into, making the blue insect fly away into the gardens below.

"Mæa?" The cat looked up in confusion as you stopped kissing her head for the 45th time that hour, looking at your wide saucer eyes, those globes wanting your attention all the time, but the maids were busy braiding your hair and needed your head to be steady. You petted her head with an apologetic "It'll be done soon" your voice coming in a rather breathy feminine voice, which you had yet to get used to, yet still it felt odd using it. Trifine purred in contentment as she made biscuits on your thighs, letting the stress of waking up too early out, uncaring to the bustle of the maids in the room as they did your daily routine of getting ready, her pink bean toes leaving marks on the fabric of the towel draped over your lap.

Your gaze went to the reflection of your face in a small round mirror held up by a maid as she smiled at you, her bright eyes round and lovely "What do you say, your ladyship? Is the new hairstyle to your liking?" The round face of the dark-skinned elf stared at you through the reflection, framed by the clay flowers around the mirror, when Aradana had to respond, you did "Aye, it is quite lovely" Your long pointed ears twitched in delight as your shapely fingers touched your cheeks. It'd be embarrassing if you were to realize how expressive your ears were, letting on for your any emotion, that was why many ladies wore lace hats that restricted the movement of their ears and held them in place to hide their true emotions, just as they did by hiding their faces behind their fans.

The maids smiled at your satisfaction, they had trained hard to learn how to handle the unique hair texture of of the sun elves, which was rare in these grounds, but they were learning, and your mother was pleased. One maid powdered the golden-colored braids to ensure their health, the powder laced with a sweet calming perfume that filled the aura about you, giving your person an even more pleasing presence and soothing the spirit of anyone about and you. They dabbed your scalp with purified pomade to trap moisture, it's cool texture making your scalp tingle, and you couldn't help but shudder at its effects.

Who knew being pampered felt so good, even if the body you were in was a complete stranger to you a few weeks ago. That electric shock the headset had put you through had sent your consciousness out of your body, and somehow, in some way, by the will of a sick deity or something, you had ended up in another world. At least the VIP care you got was nice. Baths and showers every time you wanted, the best beautiful flowing gowns that puffed around your shoulders, the glistening pearls and jewels in drawers upon drawers of jewelry cases. Yeah, being a noblewoman was nice, it felt like playing Barbie in real life, and by some miracle, which you had learned was the magic of the items you used, you didn't tire of it.

The voices of the maids echoed in the vast chambers, the soft hums and even occasional singings giving a background noise to the opulent residence. They diligently polished the floors and dusted every nook and crony, the skirts of their uniform dresses tucked under their belts, their bare legs in full view, low-heeled shoes petter pattering about, their short ears hidden under their clean and purely white bonnets. Where humans used skin color for segregation, elves were ranked by their ear size, which about yours...they were...something. as long as the palm of your hands they were. The soft appendages were delicate and took extreme care to maintain, just like the ancient Chinese tradition of growing your nails long as a sign of nobility, highborn elves of every branch that were created by Mekt had longer and more expressive ears. The priests said Mekt adored pointed ears, which favored the nobles, but you knew it was all bullshit to secure power, elves and humans weren't much different in the grand scheme of things.

Your perfectly filed fingers ram through the soft fur of Trifine, the fluffy gal purring a storm, gently batting imaginary flies around her. The maids cooed as they pampered the feline as well, offering it snacks and brushing her long tail that moved about as if it had a mind of its own. You sighed softly, giving Adarana, or you, to be honest, another look. You had screamed your head off when you had woken up to realize where the hell you were. The damned headset had sent you to a very dangerous place and from the looks of it, you had no way out of it.  

Your eyes moved about to hide the tears of frustration, your cute button nose twitching a little in an attempt to scrunch up. Your chambers was something out of a commercial in size respectively, with a large marble-styled bathroom that ran on magic-infused boiled water, a toilette that had flowered patterned tiles that shimmered under the candlelight, a whole dedicated prayer room with everything needed there, especially with a statue of Mekt, which you covered with a cloth, given your trauma with the scene you had read about her and the villain. Two walk-in closets filled with every fashion item imaginable, an office that you got your lessons in and met your tutors at, and a boudoir which was reserved for close friends, to which you didn't have any, only your mother visited you there for tea, and you had counted, exactly three window seats and 12 windows of different shapes in total around the living quarters.

So you had truly ended up in that damned novel huh? It wasn't a dream, your countless attempts to wake up which some may had been too painful than others reminded you of that but how did you end up here in the world of "The silver-spooned saintness", you did not know, maybe it was another version of the "Truck-kun" messing with you or it was a punishment out of nowhere or the sheer hatred of the stupid author, you weren't sure. And the title, whatever the hell that translated title means, sure, silver spoon in Korean meant being born of wealth, but still...you now HATED the damned title.

Speaking of the saintess, you rolled your eyes so hard that the poor maids thought there was something wrong, to which you just waved your hand, ignoring their confused glances. The saintess was the protagonist, the oh-so-powerful, beautiful, all-knowing Yuviel Palewand, Adarana's sibling and now...your little sister. How?! Why?! Why she author? Why she?! Yuviel had the personality of a fluffy white bread and oh you'd be cursed, she was just aa white to the core. Sometimes you flinched at how translucent her skin was, the author's obsession with white skin, a tall skinny body, pink hair, and purple eyes made you want to find the author and shove some sense into them, not even Asians themselves were that "perfect", which was alright! Yuviel looked bad in the art style of her story, but in person, she seemed so sickly it was...disturbing.

Yuviel had the typical childcare story plot line, the daughter of a long lost lover sent to an orphanage found in the worst condition possible, doted upon by her father and siblings, it would be a really good plot for fluffy fillings on the pages, which it was. Palewand state was a very gorgeous one, with lush greenery and a mansion so massive it rivaled a palace, which it had to, Balthinal Palewand, your father, was one of the few viscounts in elven domain of the planet Leril after all. Your three younger brothers were just as typical as one could be given a story of as Yuviel's, things were perfect, but you were there, and as an imposter in the body of the young elf, you knew things weren't as simple.

"Your" father was a high elf of the branch of the moon elves, pale, tall with gray eyes, he literally could shimmer under the direct light, his excessive use of silk didn't help either. He had an arranged marriage with "your" mother, Eponia of Woella, a sun elf, to strengthen the bond of the states. She had a fair build, with a full body and lovely dark skin, and you, Ardana, had inherited most of her features but still shared the same pale silver eyes with your father. Your father had cheated on your mother and Yuviel was the fruit of it, and he had the audacity to not only bring her in but shower her with more love than he had shown Ardana, which had made your mother resentful.

Eponia was not a woman of pettiness, she was wise and a lady through and through but Mekt's enemies be damned, if one were to say something bad about you, she'd gauge their eyes out. That was why you liked Eponia more than others, she was genuine and loved Ardana fully. None of these details were mentioned in the novel, especially, the fact that YOU were ENGAGED, to the villain of the story, in an attempt from your father to save YUVIEL from the clutches of a bloodsucking beast, oh you nearly forgot, on top of being a misogynistic, pro classism, and an asshole that had favorites, he also was racist to the bone. He had thrown you under the bus to save his favorite. Obsessive fathers like him made you sick to the bone, especially knowing one of the reasons she was so liked by his was Yuviel's likeness to her late mother, which the older maids had said he was obsessed with as well...ew.

At least the sons of the family were rather normal, well as normal as spoiled nobles could be, none of them had an inch of a hard spine, aside from Irtar, who was a young teen in elven years by the time you had gotten there, if the story would proceed as it did in the novel, the talented elf would go through so much. Surprisingly Eponia seemed to like you more than she did her sons, Curufor, your eldest brother and the heir to the Palewand state, had told young Ardana it was because Eponia always wanted a daughter, that was why she had put up with Balthinal and gave birth to three sons only for the fourth babe to turn out as a female. Good thing you had Ardana's memories. That was how you had escaped the skeptical gaze of Mellion, the middle son, who seemed to stare right through your eyes and reach your soul, your mother always disliked how much that piercing gaze was reminiscent of Balthinal's, to add salt to the already festering wound of Eponia's resentment, none of her sons looked like her either, you could see why she was so attached to Abrana, in Leril no bride had the chance to take any maid or lady in waiting of her father's state to her new home. The Palewand family was well, at least "functional" to a degree, Abrana was always grateful that none of her siblings turned against their family as most elves did.

Racism was prevalent in Leril which was actually acceptable to any elf, not only on the green and lush planet of elves but also in the whole universe Abrana knew of. The elves from different planets shared the universal hatred of any races other than their own, thank Mekt they are not racist to their own- oh right...the ear size thing...Mekt had some explaining to do, but nah, according to the scripture of Mekt's church, she was the bride to Kytvan, the lord of all, and not many dared to question her ways, aside from the dark ones, who themselves had their own can of worms that was spilled everywhere. But again, given how humans and orcs acted, you didn't think other deities were good enough to criticize Mekt. At least she had managed her creation better than others. Other planets were a constant mess.

Especially on Sevonad's dead soil, where Necropolis, the city of sin and decay, had festered like a plague, oozing puss and sickness. You had once seen the map of the dark planet and its moons and by Mekt! Why half of Senovad's surface was covered in a hulking hive city?! Necropolis was like a living behemoth of a parasite of metal and wires, withering with energy and countless towers that pierced the atmosphere of the planet, it had slithered into it's never dying core and rooted at the shadowed side of the planet that was stuck in its orbit and didn't turn its northern side towards the sunlight, which had given the nocturnal side of Sevonad the perfect condition for the creatures of the night to thrive in, the other side was under constant sunlight, and was mostly a never-ending sahara, deprived of any shade, literal demons roaming it's grounds. What were the dark ones thinking when they created this massive rock in space?

The readers sort of liked the worldbuilding of the story, a mixture of fantasy races in a universe of gothic horror with futuristic technology and magic, but the author hadn't had given much of the details, not to the clarity you had seen. There were three habitable planets in the Zorak sector, aside from the planet of humans, which in itself was like a fantasy version of Earth, named Sabra, they had the same state of tech as the modern days, fused with magic and conflict, hardly reaching for the stars since vampires sabotaged their endeavors in an attempt to keep them trapped for their own harvesting, though victims of vampires colonization, even the orcs didn't like to touch them, why? Given that you yourself were human in spirit, you knew why.

There was Sevonad, the dark planet, Sabra, Leril, and the fourth and the most barbaric one, Adigog, a planet covered in the bile-like greenery that seemed sickly from the outside, home to orcs and other fantasy races that were too barbaric for the other planets, good thing they hadn't developed technology to the point of space travel, which you didn't think they were capable of, given the constant tribal wars they went through. Diegord, their god, was just as repulsive in nature in mythology and scripture as his creations were, always harassing Mekt. It was a solid world-building, and further from the planet sectors of Zorak were other sectors, which were not mentioned in the book or in the maps you had seen, it seemed they didn't want to interact with Zorakians, and the ships coming in and out of the three planets of the sector didn't venture out of its borders either.

Life in Palewand state wasn't that bad, Eponia watched over you, doted on you, babied you even...yeah sure...Life in Palewand state wasn't that bad, well aside from the constant stress of where the hell the story was going!

The silver-spooned saintess's story was of a struggling elf maiden that had taken sanctuary in the capital of Leril's monastery after a grueling war between vampires and elves, the typical saintess arch, and that included a very toxic elf prince, and the whole story was about them dealing with the villain of the story. Silvain Agarand and his pursuit of avenging the Palewand family by any means. 

Leril had been long under the colonization of the vampires coming from Sevonad as well, vampires had reached their claws to every single planet in search of new resources, greedy and cruel, they had taken the Eastern hemisphere of the planet for themselves and with use of their superior technology and Mekt's absence, since the priests said she had gone to a millennia rest after fighting off Diegord in the heavens. They had occupied the land and had extended their influence and power on the dark elves of the east, making the Drows their minions and thralls. For centuries it was total chaos on the eastern side, with the frontiers of the states close to the east in constant war with the vampires, but in the end, the elves, given the absence of their deity and patron to fund their mana, gave in, and relented to their terms, aside from letting the vampires suck up the resources of the planet, every century, from a chosen state, by random, a young elf would marry into the realm of the vampires on Leril and your family was chosen this time. At first, Yuviel was put up as an option given her perfect nature, which was the author's way of adding coal to the fire of fangirling for her, oh perfect Yuviel! So perfect that she was chosen to be the oh-so-pure sacrificial bride...yeah, you wanted to rip your hair out in frustration. Your father had changed the candidate to you, earning your and Eponia's scorn. And who was your darling betrothed? Yes, it was HIM!

According to the story, the villain Silvain Agarand, the Duke to the Agarand state, which was a large continent on the northern part of the occupied lands, was a sadistic mad vampire that sought nothing but the demise of Yuviel Palewand and her family, and he does to an extent, killing everyone but her and her youngest brother Irtar Palewand, who somehow with the help of the male lead and Mekt's blessing would get rid of the villain. You hadn't read enough to know what was going to happen, the poor grammar and also the all-over-the-place plotline of the story had frustrated you, but you still remembered one thing.

Arbana had died in the original plotline. Yes, because she was married off to that sadistic Agarand and Mekt knew what he had done to her, and now that your father had pushed the engagement onto you instead of Yuviel, you were going insane from the stress, so much so that even Eponia noticed and tried to argue with your father, day and night to make him see the absurdity of it all. He had finally relented and agreed to annul the engagement if the Agarands were not to respect the elven tradition of meeting the bride in person before choosing her. Which was impossible, given the fact that no vampire could reach Palewand state without being weakened to the stage of a mere thrall because of the pulsating veins of Mekt's mana in the land.

You huffed in frustration as you paced around your room, your pet cat looking at you in confusion as you frantically mumbled "Why me? Why me? Why me?!" The reality was setting in and it was setting in HARD! Not even those damned good-smelling tea or delicious snacks could calm you down, why on Leril's soil you had to be the "tribute"?! The night's dinner no matter how many times your mother had insisted was a good meal had made you nauseated with its strange aroma, and it didn't help your anxiety at all. The soothing tea that your mother had sent to your chambers was sitting in the corner, long forgotten and had turned cold half an hour ago.

You were going to kiss little Trifine in your arms as she let out a soft 'mrrp' of concern, before you heard a soft "squeak" coming from the window, you furrowed your brows and looked down at Trifine, the purring cat tilting her head as well, as if sensing something wasn't right. Trifine didn't make such noises, sure she had made some weird noises here and there like soft meows that sounded like she was singing but not a squeak-"Squeak"

You turned around, searching for where the noise was coming from only to find a small FLUFFY batling on the window's railings, any thoughts of your misery were thrown out of your mind as you met its wide crimson eyes "Squeak" It made another noise as it realized you had noticed it, perking up, Oh Mekt!...why was it so cute?! You put Trifine down, the feline looking up quizzically, not understanding why she was put down, as you approached the window slowly to not scare the batling, but the fluffball seemed unfazed, sitting on its small stubby legs.

"Hello" you greeted it with a high-pitched voice out of your excitement, and the batling just puffed its fluffy chest and squeaked again, as if greeting you back. Its large flap-like ears perked up, the flat nose twitching a little. You clawed at your chest "Ack!" It was so unexpected, you hadn't seen any bats like it before and surely there was not a place for them in the state's grounds. You tilted your head closer, refusing to give in to the urge of petting the creature. You couldn't help but coo as it rubbed it's head with it's left wing, fluttering it's wings before looking up once more, as if it was preening for your attention.

The batling crawled closer, it's leathery wings shuddering a little, maybe because of the unfamiliar situation it was in? It seemed curious and eager, which was strange, even for elves animals were still apprehensive of them. You tried to reach out to pet the fluffy white creature when another voice startled both of you, another white batling came screeching as it attacked the first one, you gasped and tried to do something but you realized the attack wasn't harmful, it was as if the second bat was scolding the first one by slapping it with its wings over and over. Before you could do something the second batling literally threw the first one off of the railings and then flew off, leaving you flagbastered and little Trifine confused as hell, the poor thing was sitting there looking up, a look of "What just happened?!" On her face. Well, that was something.

You were puzzled, shaking your head to clear your mind, You turned around to pick up Trifine once more before the first batling poked it's head in again "Squeak!" You giggled at it's persistence but- "You look even more lovely in person-" "EEK!" You screamed in shock hearing a very deep masculine voice coming from the batling, and it was so loud it startled the creature and it fell once more as it let out a loud scream with a voice that wasn't befitting of the manly voice "Ahh!". After you had calmed down, you looked down the window to see if what you had seen was real or not but down on the white rose bushes below the window there was nothing, maybe the meal had messed up with your mind? Your mother had said it was a special herb inside, yeah, maybe it was the game of the mind, but why did poor Trifine keep frantically meowing around you? Maybe she was startled by your scream as well, how strange...

And even more strange was- "The engagement will proceed as planned" Yes, the engagement wasn't annulled as much as your mother had wanted it to. Why? You didn't know "But why?" You spoke, making others look your way "I haven't seen the heir of the Agarand state and he hasn't seen me! It's...it's..." You trailed off to find the right words "It's ridiculous!" Your mother shouted, coming to your aid, standing up from her seat, the plates on the breakfast table moving at her sudden movement, Eponia rarely lost her temper like this, but it was her baby she was defending. "It has been decided woman-" your father sighed "I do not care! They haven't followed the tradition-" "They have actually, sit down and listen" Balthinal sighed, rubbing his temper, why breakfast needed to be complicated like this?

"He has seen our daughter" he started, everyone's head snapped in your direction to which you gave them a confused look back "I haven't-" "It seems the heir and his chaperone had entered the Palewand state last night in disguise of-" your mind started to reel as your father explained, trying to remember the past few nights, wait-so the batling-NO WAY! That explained the crimson eyes and the deep voice! Those filthy vampires could shapeshift! "It's unacceptable! I was in my sleeping gown and he-he has breached my privacy and dignity!" You tried to argue, but your father was busy cutting down the bread in front of him "It is decided, and they will send a company with offerings before taking Ardana for the engagement ceremony at the border" The finality in his tone made you stop, fuming silently, as a daughter you couldn't argue with your father further, and your mother didn't seem any better, and the 'pure' Yuviel was being handfed by Mellion once again, oblivious to everything.

It took only less than a week for the ceremonial party to reach

Palewand state, that you refused to leave your room, but curiosity got the better of you after the arrival of the company was announced. You and Trifine watched from the window of your chambers, your eyes widened at the sheer amount of gifts and carriages they had sent. You held up Trifine who seemed curious as well, wanting her to be the judge of it all just as you were. "Meow," She said "Yeah...that's a lot of carriages" you agreed with Trifine, looking down at the five full carriages colored black with the symbol of the three-headed hydra plastered on their doors in a glistening purple color. Your doom seemed to approach you in extravagant robes.

"Are they courting the daughter of a king or something?" Your father huffed as you and your mother watched the vampire vassals wearing dark Bautas to hide their faces from the glaring sun and bring in the many caskets of gifts. Your mother slapped his arm with her fan, making him give back a glare "Your daughter doesn't have anything less than a princess" Eponia huffed, fanning herself. You wished you hadn't come down to the entrance hall to see the gifts pouring in, but Trifine was restless and so were you plus your mother had insisted, she spoke of the vassals' need to see you up close to know your worth or something, whatever it was, you didn't want to touch even a speck of dust coming down the gifts let alone use them, but soon they'd be part of the dowery you'd be taking with you.

The caskets and chests were opened, filled to the brim with dresses up to date in fashion in silk and other materials, pelts of legendary animals, jewelry of any kind, shoes of different heights, books of different subjects, large vials of glistening perfumes, even a golden harp. Alright...maybe they were doing too much- "Five hundred thousand gold?!" Your father spat in disbelief as the vassals silently opened the gold chest, revealing the golden bars branded by the symbol of Palewand state, basically a payment to the father of the bride for giving an "asset" away, how convenient. You kept petting Trifine, showing disinterest.

"Darling" Your mother called for you gaining your attention as she gestured to a vassal approaching with a dark red velvet cushion in his hands, a glistening golden ring upon it "This is your naming ring my dear" She spoke softly, holding your right hand, gently caressing the back of it with her thumb, if you were going to leave, she'd try to make it somehow tolerable for you in any way she could. "Naming ring?" You asked and she nodded, your gaze on the vassal's hand, the realization that every vampire of importance had numerous rings on them setting in. "By accepting the naming ring you accept the engagement, at the ceremony of engagement you will be given another ring, and then another at your wedding, three rings, symbolizing the three...dark ones... and the three hydras of the house Agarand" Your mother fanned herself even faster, trying to keep herself calm, it was like giving up her precious little girl to the slaughterhouse, but she couldn't say no.

The vassal knelt as he offered up the pillow, his face and emotions hidden by the mask, which any vampire you had ever seen wore to protect themselves from burns. You hesitantly reached out for the ring and picked it up  looking at the glistening viper coiling around it "Who gives their betrothed a viper ring?" You scrunched up your nose in disgust, your mother chiding you in a murmur "Darling!" You knew your comment was rude but you had to let out your anger in some way. The horned viper was one of the three hydras of the house Agarand, but alas...it was rather heavy, and the ruby gems worked in its eyes glistened, reminding you of the eyes of the batling, oh that weasel Silvain-

You lowered your head and put it on your mother's shoulder for support as your father put the ring on your trembling hand, finalizing the betrothal process. "His lord and ladyship Agarand will be hosting the ceremony at the border by the Kalmas lake by the third full moon" the vassal spoke, bowing before backing away. Here it went, why couldn't you change the story of your doom like other characters in different stories you had read? Or it was just a hoax the author put in? Your will didn't matter, and the ring on your finger seemed very heavy, your blood freezing in your veins feeling it's magical grip around your heart.

The parting ceremony held by your parents a week later from the gifting was nothing short of a nightmare, everyone gave you either pitiful or disgusted glances, and women behind their fans whispered to themselves as you walked past them, their eyes narrowed in on your every action and Yuviel and your siblings weren't anywhere to be seen, probably coddling Yuviel or something, you didn't want to see them anyway. You felt like a sacrificial lamb paraded around, your mother refused to attend out of spite of your father, who tried to smile and failed miserably at every given minute, because he knew he was the one to blame, and the nobility for once were siding with his wife instead of him, because he was taking his child away to hand her to bloodsucking wolves.

You had wept the night before your parting, the company sent by your new family would leave before the break of day since the exchange spot was a day away, and vampires could not stand in direct sunlight. Your mother had wept her eyeliner off the whole time, Yuviel as well, though you didn't show any emotions, other than a soft hiccup when Trifine was taken from you, it was direct orders, no pets, servants, or belongings of the bride would be transferred with her, upon the engagement ceremony, which the bride had to attend alone, she'd be reborn as a lady of the night. Poor Trifine kept meowing as she looked at you, and you swore you could see her cry, your maids wept too, it was nothing like a happy parting, but you didn't blame them either.

Your mother kissed your face over and over, pulling the hood of your cape down to cover your face "Make sure to eat well alright my little mouse?" She caressed your face, not wanting to tear up again at your trembling lips. "Woman-" "Just shut up and let me say goodbye to my daughter!" Eponia snapped at her husband before she guided you into the carriage, putting a blanket on your lap as she fluffed it up for you, trying to hold back her tears "If anything happens..." She trailed off, there was no turning back now was it? She reached out and put a small vial in your hands "Dying with dignity is worth more" She whispered, and the realization dawned on you.

The carriage's door closed and enclosed you in it's darkness, leaving you alone to digest the reality that Eponia had given you the poison to kill yourself with, but the irony was, you didn't seem to dislike the idea either, after all, the war was away for less than a year, and your sealed fate wasn't that better either, maybe you'd do it to spite the dark ones and the Agarands.

In the carriage you were on your own, refusing to touch any of the gifts put there, glaring at the hidden portrait of your to be fiancé inside a velvet-covered box, you hadn't seen him yet, but his audacity and rudeness as well as his apparent character from the novel made you want to set the portrait on fire. Your head rested on the soft inner padding of the seat, rocking softly as you listened to the hooves of the mechanical horses touching the road, your family had sent nothing but the gifts the Agarands had sent for you with you, no dowery to your name, a literal nobody entering the maws of death.

You had fallen asleep from exhaustion and mental fatigue, the company reached the massive tents set beside the lake that shimmered under the moonlight before you could know it. You woke up by the knock on the door of your carriage and your heart started beating faster and faster with each knock after you had jolted out of your sleep, your breath quickening, what if he were to set you on fire here and there?! You didn't want to turn into snuff of a sick and twisted man!

The door of the carriage opened on its own letting the chilling breeze of the twilight time in, your nose burning from the cold. You finally managed to gather up your courage and leaned forward to see you were at the other side, meeting a full group of maids and ladies in waiting in dark purple clothing did courtesy upon seeing you "Your ladyship" one of them spoke with eloquence, gesturing with her gloved hand towards the tent behind them as her fingers fluttered. "Come forth" She beckoned, holding her other hand out for you. Taking her hand you left the carriage, her pink-colored eyes downcast in respect as she guided you toward the tent.

You entered the clothed walls of the tent, shuddering at the coldness of the atmosphere, the ladies in waiting gave you demure polite smiles ss the maids unfastened your clothing to have them removed. Your cape left you, their hands diligently unfastening the buttons of your dress. Too nervous to protest them practically undressing you in front of the eyes of each other you relented, listening to them whispering soft measurements and discussing the needed jewelry and powders, not looking up from their tasks. None of the Agarands had attended you yet, and it felt rather refreshing, you didn't want to meet any of those silverheads.

The cold hands of the dampier maids were covered with gloves, their silence rather comfortable, but you still missed your own girls, which you were sure missed you as well. The golden dress you wore was changed with the latest gown coming right from Sevonad, the ladies in waiting made sure to mention that, the purple gown sat right under the airy chemise, that your corset was tied up, apparently the Agarand's family color was purple, which showed their closeness to royalty. White stockings with soft garters were put on, the underwear soft as cotton on you.

A lady in waiting of yours offered her hand for you to take after your hat was fitted on your head and a fresh coating of powder was put on your head and shoulders "This way your ladyship" She guided you out of the tent, letting you step on the occupied soil, belonging to the frontlines that decades ago were covered in the bodies of both races, their deaths still heavy on the atmosphere. The lady guided you towards the largest tent, the guards, their faces hidden behind their helms saluting as you walked past them, your lace shoes dipping onto the fresh doed grass, your gait slightly limping at the heavy skirt of your new dress.

Upon your arrival at the main tent, a soft violin tone started playing, your head didn't move to find the one playing, it seemed like a piece of music to your funeral. You looked up to see the tent having a makeshift alter made of wood in the shape of the dark ones' church you had seen in pictures of your studies of Senovad, with a curtain cutting it's space in two, basically hiding the two betrothed from each other until the end of the ceremonial process. A subtle hint of incense was in the air and it's sweet hints could be felt on your tongue, maybe if you lived long enough you could ask the name of it from the maids. Your marvel at the scent in the air was cut short as your eyes landed on something or rather someone particular.

You gulped down the lump in your throat that seemed to gnaw at your windpipe, your breath shuddering at the hulking figure's back facing you, his board shoulders adorned with epaulettes glistening with a dark silver color, his cape reaching down onto the floor. Why was he so...HUGE?! How on Sevonad's dark soil they fed him? Or better to ask WHAT they fed him because from the width he seemed he could eat two men whole and still have some place left in his stomach for seconds. Now the scenes you had read about him were ringing more and more horrific, your legs shaking under the skirt of the gown. He didn't move his head, the pony-tailed silver hair of his perfectly still, but the subtle twitch of his pointed ear gave you the signal that he had realized you were there.

"My child" a smooth male voice called you out of your shock, and your attention snapped to the other tall figure behind the alter that had appeared out of the shadows, his face chiseled with the shade of the light of the torches around you set on his deathly pale skin. His crimson irises were deep set in hunter-shaped eyes, his arched brows tilted downwards, and his silver hair was combed back, pomade glistening on his tresses as a lovelock fell from the lace collar of his clothing. He seemed like a marble statue that had come to life by the will of the dark ones, wearing a dark doublet that was adorned with golden stripes, the deep cuffs of his clothes set in place with buttons that seemed made out of pearls, the hose upon his stockings weaved with precision. The emblem of the purple-colored hydra on his chest.

Within a blink of an eye, the tall silvered-haired vampire loomed over you, using his super-powered speed. Given the emblem and the way he had called you, he'd be none other than Eckhart Agarand himself, the Duke of the northern fronts, and the lord and master of the Amethyst Peak. Your soon-to-be father-in-law leaned forward to take your hand from the lady in waiting in his, the red gloves on his person thick to the touch. The large palm of the ancient being dwarfed yours, your hand looking like a child's in his, oh right, you had forgotten royal and pure blood vampires were twice the size of a normal one...nice. He petted your hand with his other hand, gently, as if to soothe you, a fatherly smile upon his glistening lips, you had heard vampire men used balms for their skin because of lack of moisture coming from their bodies, but seeing it up close was something else, from the close distance you could take the hints of roses of it.

"I apologize for this meager ceremony my dear" he started, the smooth voice rolling out of his bright white teeth like notes of a flute "But my beloved had insisted upon meeting you sooner and could not wait to prepare a better ceremony, she has promised for a grand wedding in return" he petted your hand once more, but oh your eyes was set on those two sharp fangs on his person, from that angle you were sure you were just like a pray to him. Thank Mekt the Agarands were one of the view nobles that adhered to the lifestyle of using artificial blood, which in the eyes of their kin made them seem like radicals that had lost their minds.

"Come" the duke guided you to the free spot at the left side of the curtain, and you tried your best to not look at the way your soon-to-he fiance was, holding your gaze forward. "It must be very cold, the dews are turning to crystals" he muttered to himself, waving his free hand to send a servant to fetch you a coat after the end of the ceremony, the telepathic order of his followed without question. The senior Agarand guided your hand to a small iron bowl set upon the alter, putting it there with your hand's palm up, he cleared his throat, and the hand of your betrothed reached out as well, your stomach dropping at the large clawed digits on his long-fingered hand, the limb already covered with different shapes of rings, just like his father's "Ah" the duke chuckled softly, taking your reaction, if wide eyes and your hand shaking as enthusiasm WHICH WAS NOT! Tell your son to not touch me! Ever! You wanted to yell at him.

As he started reciting prayers to the dark ones he picked up a small blade, holding it onto the flame of the candles upon the alter, it seemed the duke had sensed your apprehensive look and he gently spoke "Do not worry my child, it'll only cut a shallow wound" he tried to reassure you, which didn't help at all, but you were to frozen by the cold and the weight of your dress to move. The blade moved on your skin, the painless cut opening, your blood dripping off of your hand into the bowl into soft drops, the Duke cut his son's hand as well, though after a few small droplets his wound closed off on its own, his blood mixing with yours, after a few moments and a handful of drops the duke reached out, rubbing a healing balm on your skin to make the wound close, wiping the access blood away "You did well" he praised, your heart thudding a little at the gentle praise. Damn him and his well-shaved goatee.

After a few seconds, the duke picked up the bowl and poured the mixed blood into two different silver lines cups adorned with symbols of darkness. "Hear me thee dark ones, for tonight I hath gathered the blood of my offspring and a child of Mekt, bless their union with thine hands, tie their souls, for may they never part" he offered the cup on your side to you, his son reaching out for his. The duke seemed oddly attentive for some reason. "I know it might seem rather...unsanitary, but it is an ancient ritual, drink my child, it is for the sake of the engagement."

You looked at the liquid, your lips not wanting to part as you circled the blood inside it. You parted your lips to protest but suddenly a raven made a loud crow, startling you into dropping the cup and it fell upon the altar, coloring it red the lady in waiting gasped "Bad omen!" But she was silenced by the sharp glare of the duke. "Mayhaps the dark ones have willed the blood to be offered to them" he tried to lighten the mood. "We can redo the ceremony at the Peak if you'd want to my child." You just stared at the spot made on the white altar, the redness of it making your stomach churn.

"She can have as much as she likes" the same deep voice you had heard from that batling on that night spoke, and the curtain moved to reveal your now fiance "I can cut myself all over if she wants me to", and your eyes set upon his, the spitting image of his father, with a smile that seemed sweet for a man of his stature. Silvain Agarand...the villain, the sick man himself. But why was he looking at you like a bashful boy?

.

Waking up to the soft hum of engines, you tried to roll around in the small space of the medical sarcophagus, but you were restrained down by its confines, the sensors inside beeping in alarm. Thinking you had once again slept in you tried to reach out for your alarm "I'll get up" you mumbled sleepily to your non-existent phone, your voice muffled by the air mask on your face, trying to turn it off as you heard the alarms of the metallic casket encasing you in its padded interior, your hands clawing at the soft cushions that had held your wounded form as it had healed you for days on end.

You soon were jolted out of your sedated rest by the door of the sarcophagus nearly being ripped open "Darling! Oh, my sweetling!" Your eyes snapped open hearing the frantic sound of Silvain, your ears perking up and aching since you hadn't used them for days. Silvian was panting loudly, his teeth bare as his monstrous side fought to come out to posses it's mate his eyes wide, bloodshot red with his tears of blood. He quickly reached out for your hands, gripping them firmly but not harshly, his chapped lips kissing your fingers over and over as he thanked the dark ones for their blessings. He looked a mess, his stubble had grown and brunt against your palms as he grazed his face to them, wanting to feel your warmth on his ice-cold flesh.

"Oh my beloved" he sobbed, your dazed mind not nearly registering that you had been nearly regenerated whole by the cloning technology of the ship's medical wing, the physician and your appointed nurse carefully administrating tests on you, trying to see if you were fully conscious or not. "Bless be the dark ones, she's healed fully!" Doctor Halden whispered to himself as he checked for your cognitive presence, the brain waves without any problems. Silvain let out a gasp of relief as he resumed kissing your fingers, his breath shaking "Blessed be Holodor, lady of blood, blessed be Semias lord of flesh, blessed be the mother to the soul, Deidron, thank thee for thy kindness, I shall bathe thine alters in the blood of thine fallen enemies for decades to come" he kept mumbling prayers, his eyes closed.

Valeria was by your side within seconds, after she was notified of your waking. The vampiress tearing up at the sight of you in that condition, under the weight of many wires and tubes, holding her handkerchief close to her face to wipe the blood made tears staining her plain cheeks as she approached, her rose-colored dress fluttering. "Oh my sweet child, are you in pain?" She asked softly, so distressed you could swear she'd faint within seconds if you were to whimper. Eckhart joined his wife, holding her shoulders, and leaned towards the sarcophagus, his brows knitted in worry "You are nearly healed my child, there is no doubt you will be healthy as ever in the coming days" he reassured you, the paternal warmth in his voice evident as he swallowed down his distress, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I-I am just tired" you finally spoke, surprised at how sluggish your movements were, as if you were using them for the first time, which given your newly grown flesh it wasn't that far from the truth. You inhaled to speak once more, to reassure the worried family but Silvain gently put his finger on your lips to silence you "Shhhh, rest, I am here" he whispered, kissing the back of your hands in small pecks, his eyes closing as his nostrils flared, his will holding the dam of his tears from breaking once more, you were alive, and the medical sarcophagus had healed you to the point of health without you being in too much pain.

It took two weeks in the medical wing of the ship for you to recover, Silvain and his family's physicians guiding you through the physical therapy steps, the heir of the Agarand state holding you in place with his hands holding your waist tightly, his hands guiding you through every obstacle, he was there when you walked again, he was there when you spoke once more, he was there when you wrote your first word once again, he was there, and he cared, with all his being. Also, he ruined lots of tissues because your man kept crying every day like a cloud in the spring.

You were glad the war was over, the Agarands had frantically gathered their belongings before the elven army had reached their state, and your father had seized the moment to get rid of your in-laws so he could marry you off to someone more profitable. The original Abrana had chosen that fate and ended up dead, but you had refused and well, you were at least alive.

After your recovery you could spend time the way you enjoyed it, roaming the insides of the spaceship, the castle like structure of it was filled with luxuries, branded with the head of the three hydras, specifically commissioned by the dark emperor for the Agarand family after the war broke on Leril, Eckhart was the dark emperor's second removed grandchild and he adored the Duke. The six months stay in the ship as it traveled to Sevonad from Leril meaning you'd have enough time to see what kind of the place this marvel of technology and gothic design was. You had heard the dark emperor rarely gifted his relatives such things. It was massive, with wings of different uses, the buttresses magnificent magical gardens that withstood the darkness of vampires being, literal ballrooms, dining halls, music rooms, and a gallery. The cargo was full of decades worth of artificial blood and frozen foods, ready to use in the hands of the staff.

In your endeavors you found the duke and a few dampiers in front of the chambers that were supposed to be Silvain's and yours after your subsequent departure from the medical wing, the small crowd discussing things in hushed whispers, Eckhart tried to brush off the situation, gently ushering you to spend time with his wife and the twin boys in the eastern wing, but you insisted and he finally shared that toxic gasses had leaked in the quarters for a while, and Silvain was lucky that he had spent his time on your bedside, away from it all. Oh...OH?!

Oh...you had heard the name of that gas before in Irtar's chemistry books...it was harmless to humans, but it seemed it caused severe brain damage to vampires or other races, humans used it for chemical warfare against other races before being occupied by the vampires, and given how it had been rumored that the elves had occupied the shipyard for a few weeks before giving up the station to the cavalry sent by the dark emperor himself, could it be that they had laced the air supply of the ship? Vampires didn't need to breathe but they had supplied air vents for their staff which were mostly thralls and dampiers, some even had human victims as pets and companions and they needed air, some said the gas affected the mana and corrupted it, which directly imbalanced the chemicals of the body and mind, but given that it had leaked through Silvain and your chambers things were piecing together.

In the original story, from what you have gathered and matched with your own memories you wouldn't even be alive to reside there since the feral Silvain would drain you of your blood and after he had come to his senses he'd cremate your body and his parents in his guilt to keep your memories with him, then the lonely new master to the Amethyst Peak was definitely poisoned to his fangs, given his habit of wallowing in his grief and sadness when he was overwhelmed with guilt, and subsequently, the small doses of the nerve-wracking gas would slowly lead him to lose his mind. And in his twisted delirium Silvain had turned your ashes into a snuff to consume you piece by piece, in a sadly macabre way of holding you close, the revenge he had of your family was to see them pay for their neglect of your life and decision...oh poor Silvie.

Now everything was clicking into place! The dukedom's couple living had changed the whole plot and storyline! With his parents alive, he had guidance to help him with his emotions, and certainly, you had lived, even if the injury you had sustained by the hands of your father was nearly as fatal as what Silvain would give you if you hadn't had refused Balthinal's orders and had killed Valeria and Eckhart. The twin boys were too young to help their brother anyway.

But Mekt knew, from the snickers of the dark ones echoing through the heavens, that your new weaved fate, wasn't going to be as bright as you had hoped for.

.

"Hnngh!" You tried to suck in your breath as the maids behind you pulled on your corset to tighten up your waist, the lace pulling being such a difficult task that two maids tried to pull the strings, making the air push out of your lungs even more "I can't breath" you managed to say nearly choked from the pressure of the tightly weaved fabric against your middle, the chemise beneath it pressing tight to your flesh, it wasn't your fault you didn't have an hourglass figure! You whined uncontrollably, your ears drooping in a show of distress, which was answered with apologetic glances of the dampier maids, whispering with embarrassed smiles muttering how they only followed orders, oh it was so awkward, you wished your own maids could be here to take care of things, you could at least joke with them about the situation.

Speaking of a tense situation... you tried to ignore the small shivering ball of fur on the nightstand before you, who had shamefully buried his head under one of the powder puffs there, his small body practically buzzing from how fast he was shivering. The maids giggled to themselves as they walked about with different items in their hands, finding the situation so endearing. You had come to realize that your mental image of the dark vampire that would be the monster of your life was all made up by your mind, because in reality, the tough dangerous looking vampire villain you had made up in your mind and had read about, was nothing short of a shy nervous wreck of a man that in elven years was actually even younger than you. Oh and he had a very bad habit, he'd shapeshift upon being overwhelmed. And after thinking he had seen his bride in her wedding dress the poor lad had turned into a batling and was hiding behind the large powder puff, refusing to get out even if his butlers were looking for him to get him ready for the ceremony, thinking it'd be of bad luck for your upcoming marriage, Silvain had walked in, bringing you a box of macaroons before he had shapeshifted into a batling. You knew he had chosen that form to avoid being scolded by you or his mother, knowing he could use the cuteness of his form against you two as well. But still, the power of a mother was more.

He peaked out of the powder puff upon hearing his mother calling for him, the vampiress giving him a scolding look before practically throwing him outside the bridal chambers like a ball so he could get ready. Valeria Agarand she was, a lady and nothing short of her husband, both in height and status, with sharp, high-boned cheeks, thin lips, and fox-like eyes, her gaze sparkling with wit and wisdom. You had come to know her as a cunning vampiress who knew how to manipulate people, he had your fiancé and her husband in the palm of her hand, which could be seen as toxic, but alas, nothing in your life was short of literally venomous anyway.

Duchess Valeria smiled softly as she looked at you up and down as the maids put the first layer of your dress on, the gown sitting on top of the inner cotton skirt, the white fabric soon covered with another layer, the weight of the heavy lilac colored wedding dress you could hardly breath "Oof" you whined once more, earning Valeria's chuckle as she got the long array of jewelry you'd be putting on for the wedding "Bear with it my sweet child, I remember I nearly passed out upon my own wedding" She turned to you, the pins in her raven hair glistening under the lights.

"Oh how I wish my daughters were here to see the beauty of their new family member, but it'd take months for them to get here" She sighed, circling about to check if every item was up to her standards, oh right, a control freak, you had nearly forgotten that. Just great, a too friendly father-in-law and a mother-in-law that seemed like a fox in the form of a lady, this way their son was the least of your concerns at the moment.

The Agarands were a family of seven, two sets of twins, and Silvian was born out of the union of the duchess and the duke, and your fiancé was the eldest son of the family, Madge, and Benedicta, his twin sisters were older than him, already married to influential families back on Sevonad, you had heard Benedicta was married to the legendary general Rambrecht Werder, the conqueror of humans, Madge's husband was still a mystery to you, but he seemed even more important than Werder. Younger than Silvain were young twins Bernolt and Gerhart, who had just learned how to write and were busy wreaking havoc somewhere, always under heavy supervision of their army of nannies.

Your in-laws seemed to be busy in the bedroom, which was a very rare notion because one, vampires could rarely get pregnant, and five children already meant they were really busy with each other, something that others noted and teased the duke and his mate about often, earning their chuckles that sounded like money flying in the air, and two, vampires were rarely known for love between couples, but it seemed the Agarand's couple were passionate and their children had inherited it. Silvain was like a schoolboy in love.

The wedding ceremony surprisingly was a private one, in front of the immediate family members that could catch up, and a priest of the dark ones' monastery. It was set in the prayer room of the large castle you had moved into, fast and efficient, just as Valeria had insisted it to be, she knew the traditional wedding dress that was passed down through generations was taking a heavy toll on you, and right after silvain had put a kiss on your cheek the maids were taking you away to have you changed into a more airy chemise like dress, which Valeria was happy to see you in, calling it a fitting dress for a nymph such as you, which has made you blush. The rest of the night was spent on eating cake and getting to know everyone.

Life in the Amethyst Peak was strangely pleasant, especially after the second batling incident, you had realized Silvain was much more different than he was in the stories, your man was as heavy as a tank and just as large but he'd turn into a batling out of nervousness if he was in your presence, not that your love for cute things changed anything for the better. He'd either get squished in your hands as you held him, or end up covered in your lipstick as you kissed him, he had taken the role of Trifine for you, and you had seemed to adopt his batling persona as your pet and he had taken the habit of turning to the bat form of his when he saw you angry. Unlike many ironical protagonists of the novels you had read, you could see the signs, and hopefully, seeing how the Agarands were in private, you'd find a way to stop your fate from happening.

The peak had grounds covered in darkness fused fauna, which sounded scary only to the name because the flowers that only bloomed in the moonlight were as gorgeous as one can be, the ponds were covered in small mermaid-like nymphs that would sing and chirp, their eyes wide and unblinking. The castle was not even a dark shade of pink, but people called it so because of the marvelous Amethyst statue of a small snake in the middle of the garden that was a gift directly from the dark emperor himself, you shuddered every time you saw the serpent, as if the first vampire could see you through its eyes.

The family always considered your needs when planning their own events, they had hired a full chef team to cater to your palate, and made sure to have family dinner times from time to time, who knew drinking blood from different fancy glasses that warped and coiled was just as fun as eating a pudding that melted on your tongue? Silvain seemed to like it a little too much, his mother would always glare at his habit of suckling the blood out instead of holding the glass upside down. It was not manly she said, which the younger vampire would give sheepish glances at his parent in response, but he still kept doing it.

They made sure your chambers and the library you frequented were always warm, and Mekt knew how many coats and jackets Valeria had stuffed into your wardrobes because she had made sure you had a coat for every and any occasion. One time she had put on so many on you that you had to waddle about inside the cold Peak. They even let your mother visit, well at least her hologram would visit you through the portable antenna they had sent her, Life seemed to be smooth sailing, but no...Mekt had other plans for you.

The war between the elves and the vampires was inevitable, and so was your decision.

You'd soon come to realize that you had to choose, and this choice would change everything.

.

"You would like to see the new garden darling" Valeria spoke with a soft smile as she prepared the ribbon that was going to be on your hair, the cold hands of the dampier maids combing through your strands as they prepared them to be braided once more after a rigorous washing session with the finest oils Sevonad could offer. They had tried their best to treat your special hair type. 

"It is of fashion these days, I've seen the grand duchesses wear ribbons to royal balls" She spoke softly as she showed you three different rolls of red colored ribbon in varying width "What do you think? Threaded out of the finest we could find" Her crimson gaze was gentle and motherly, as if trying to soothe a stressed child, which you were, and fussy, so to speak.

You had not left your quarters after the Agarands had entrusted you with their firstborn daughter Madge, who was now a consort to a Grand Duke, connected right to the imperial family. Madge swirled the blood in her glass, looking at it's narrow flute, her gaze upon the liquid as it swirled around, as cunning as she was just like her mother, she could not continue to pretend that things were normal, they in fact, were not.

Silvain had nearly gone feral after the incident that had happened back on your home planet, and now back in the birthplace of the first vampires, Sevonad, it had taken so long for him to calm his senses down, long after you had healed by the power and grace of the technology of the dark planet. He had improved, so to speak, mentally. Improved, as much as to save face in public, behind closed doors he'd change, like a guard dog only loyal to it's master he had grown bipolar, with anyone but his mother and you, he was like a beast ready to be provoked. He was a mother's boy but still...this was too much. He had changed, but the family made sure to not have you notice.

Too much so that he stopped mid-air from killing the elf that had snuck to meet you, your youngest sibling, Irtar, but he had refrained from doing so by your request, which was more like frantic pleading as you had put yourself between him and the male elf.

"What flowers have you chosen?" You finally asked, not wanting to let Valeria down, everyone knew how much...bitter...she could get if not appreciated, which happened very very rarely, but when it did, even Eckhart himself would turn to a hiding place. You didn't blame her though, she did everything she could to ensure her family's happiness, she sometimes just...popped.

Valeria perked up "Oh darling we were thinking of doing a huge row of sunflowers! The artificial sun ray of the garden can grow so warm and cozy that it can nourish them!" The duchess clasped her hands together, the lace of her gloves making a soft pat sound. "How...how about roses? White roses?" You asked softly "Oh my child we can have white roses as well! How about tulips too?" You nodded, making the ancient vampire let out a happy chirp as she walked about. You had sulked for too long and you were tired of confining yourself to your quarters.

Madge gave you a thankful look before she pretended to read the small prayer book in her hand, which was a common tradition for expecting mothers, after all, she needed every single one of the dark ones to bless her child as well. You had heard Valeria prayed for a full week without feeding on a single speck of blood, which given Silvain's powers, she was very successful since many pregnant vampires would go mad without feeding within a day.

Speaking of Mr.husband- he hadn't forgotten his habit of showing out of nowhere, so you let out a soft "eep" noise when he appeared, kneeling before you, holding a box in one hand as he caressed your stocking-covered leg with the other "How are you doing my sweetling?" You put your hand on your chest, taking in a deep breath "Silvain Linus meinheart Agarand!" He chuckled, tilted his head to the side as his ponytailed hair fell onto his shoulder, giving you his best puppy-eyed look  "Yes?" He replied with the mischief of a young one in his voice, his sharp fangs showing themselves off "What is wrong with you?!"

"Ow" he pretended to be hurt when you slapped his head with a fan, but his insufferable grin wouldn't go away. Finally, he relented and as he put a kiss to the sole of your foot in his hand, feeling the white thin lace on his lips he looked up at you with an apologetic gaze "I know I know sweetling, I should always knock first" Holding up the box in his other hand. You were going to roll your eyes when you heard a soft meowl, your ears perked up at the sound and you beamed, for the first time, making your husband's breath hitch. "I uh..." he trailed off, not knowing how to speak for a second, holding up the box still.

You snatched the box from him, giggling uncontrollably as you opened it, to reveal a very round and fluffy calico kitten, lovingly collared "Saffie" The kitten let out a soft-pitched meow, it's pink mouth opening and closing before it tilted it's head, looking up at you. "Hello, honeybee!" You cooed and the kitten circled around in the box, giving you a twirl as the bell on its collar jingled in a proud parade of itself, as if already knowing how cute it was. "Meow" it called once more, making your heart melt even further.

Silvain watched you interact with the furry creature with a soft smile, his hand still caressing your foot in the palm of his hand, your happiness meant his, and he'd do anything to ensure it to happen. "It rhymes with taffy!" You held Saffie up, who had a face of "I'm already full of this bitch's shit". The atmosphere of the quarters lightened by your smiles and giggles, making the mood of others improve for the better. 

You wanted to pretend to not remember how your husband had shoved your brother into a pod and had ordered him to be sent back to your home planet, how the young elf had shouted over and over for you to come back home, that everyone had realized what you were trying to do for them, but to be honest, you thought poor Irtar had gone insane from the toxins of the war, yeah, he must have gone insane, you'd better be happy with the quarantine you were in before the duchess would decide you were "healthy" enough to leave the mansion.

Silvain had promised you a fitting home, which was a very spacious mansion close to where his parents' was getting built, that was why he had entrusted you with his siblings, who as equal as the heir to the house of Agarand in enthusiastic way of caring for you.

Life now wasn't that bad if you were trying to be honest. Necropolis was a city of sin and madness, but it was for the poor and the zombies lurking beneath the guarded borders of the protected neighborhoods of the nobles. Life was funded, and you were being adored, but why...why that damned feeling in your gut was warning you, again?

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[mythmerth]

do you do fic rec requests at all? I am in serious need of some more canon era merlin fics, cos I feel like I've read all The Big Ones and more besides and I trust your recommendations implicitly <3

MAN lot of pressure with the implicit trust part Ill do my best ! yes I do fic requests, so sorry I’ve been busy recently but id love to find something for you!

Canon era merlin, the palate cleansers of merlin fics. I’m not sure if you’re looking for longer or shorter or what but I’ll put a few here that I don’t think I’ve mentioned much before but enjoyed!

I know why the birds sing your name by ironfamjam. This one’s longer and canon era, they’re out of the castle very quickly but it’s such a treasure. The found family in this one goes crazy, they give you the brilliant and powerful merthur belief in each other so well too. definitely recommend

Three Tasks by syllic is a shorter one, canon era but some fun lore divergence. This one makes me giggle a lot, really love the way arthur gives in to his need to impress like a bird in a mating dance along with the jealousy- if you haven’t read it I definitely say give it a shot!

Lastly I’ll put Requiem of a Forgotten Prince by kairennart and queerofthedagger! I like the unique dilemma Arthur is stuck in in this one, i think the situation itself really has the classic merlin vibe while fleshing out the issue seriously. Really a great canon era work!

I hope some of these work for you, and thanks for the ask! <3

[1343401]

requiem of the broken - prologue

pairing: bts x reader

status: ongoing

word count: 3.1 k

warnings: depictions of violence, 18+, death, non con, mentions of blood, vampires, selling of people

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the world was cloaked in shadow. a fog of rot and decay settled over the land, curling around the crooked spires of stone buildings, their outlines barely visible against the endless gray sky. the air was thick with an unnatural stillness, a silence that lingered like death itself. the sun had long since been swallowed by the dark clouds, casting a pall over the cities that had once thrived with life. now, only whispers of a time forgotten remained, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable.

vampires ruled now.

the nobility, their skin pale and ashen, their eyes gleaming with a hunger that could never be satisfied. they had been born of blood, forged in darkness, and their fangs were sharp, always ready to pierce the flesh of the humans who still clung to life. their power was absolute, their reign eternal. the cities were their playgrounds, the people their puppets. humans, once masters of the land, had become mere livestock, herded and caged like animals.

there were few humans left now, scattered across the land like forgotten relics. the race had been bred out, erased from history by the vampires who thrived on their blood. the women, those rare few who had the ability to reproduce, were the most coveted. they were kept in breeding houses, places where they were examined, tested, chosen to bear the offspring of the vampires. their lives, their bodies, no longer belonged to them. they were vessels, nothing more.

the breeding houses were cold, dark places, built deep within the heart of the cities. they stood like dark cathedrals, their spires reaching into the heavens, their doors wide open to the darkness. inside, the women were kept in small, stone-walled rooms, their lives reduced to a series of examinations and tests. at the age of eighteen, they were taken, led through long, empty halls, their hearts heavy with fear. they were brought before the vampires, their fates decided by the cold, calculating eyes of the nobility.

the girls were examined one by one. their bodies stripped bare, their bloodlines inspected with cold precision. the vampires were indifferent to their suffering, their eyes empty of mercy. those who failed the examination were discarded, thrown into the feeding programs, where they were sold to the highest bidder. their bodies were fed to the vampires, drained of all life, their blood fueling the eternal hunger that could never be satisfied.

there were a few, however, who were deemed worthy. these women were taken into the world of the nobility, given a place at the table of the vampires. they were not free, not by any measure, but their lives were less bleak than those who had failed. they wore beautiful gowns, their bodies adorned with jewels and silks, their rooms rich with comfort. but even they were not truly free. they were still tools, their blood and their wombs the only things of value.

the vampires had long since stopped being human. their eyes were empty, their hearts cold. they cared only for power, for the blood that sustained them, for the control they held over the humans. there was no love, no compassion, no mercy. there was only hunger.

the humans lived in fear, their lives reduced to nothing more than a constant struggle for survival. some tried to flee, to escape the clutches of the vampires, but they were always hunted, always brought back. there was no safe place, no sanctuary, no escape. the vampires’ reach was endless, their power all-encompassing.

in the city of seongjin, the heart of the vampire kingdom, the breeding houses were a symbol of power, a reminder of the dominance the vampires held over the humans. the name of the city itself had become a curse, a whisper on the lips of those who still remembered what it had once been. now, it was a place of darkness, a place where the vampires reigned, and the humans suffered.

the city streets were dark, empty, save for the occasional flicker of movement in the shadows. there were whispers, murmurs of rebellion, of hope, but they were nothing more than echoes. the vampires ruled with iron fists, their influence spreading like a disease, suffocating any spark of resistance. the humans had been broken, their spirits crushed beneath the weight of centuries of oppression.

the humans were nothing but tools to be used, their lives measured in blood. but there were those among them who still dreamed of something more, who whispered of a rebellion, of a world where they were no longer slaves. those whispers, though, were always crushed. the vampires listened, always. and they had no mercy.

the world had been broken. the humans had been lost. and the vampires had claimed it all.

the nobles, the high-ranking covens of vampires who lived in their lavish estates, were the true rulers. their names were spoken with reverence, their power unmatched. they controlled the breeding houses, deciding who would live and who would die. they decided who would be given a life of luxury and who would be sold for food. their whims were law, and there was no one to challenge them.

the coven of the damned had risen in silence, their power growing with every passing year. in the past few centuries a new power had taken over. a coven had risen from the ashes of an old world, their power unfurling like the wings of a phoenix. but this was no rebirth. this was a reign. the world trembled beneath their feet, crushed under centuries of bloodlust and greed. the vampires ruled, and with them, they had claimed the humans, those few who were left to be fed upon, and the select few women, their purpose far darker. among them was kim namjoon, their leader. his presence dominated any room he entered, his sharp jawline cutting through the air with an air of regality. namjoon’s gaze could freeze the very blood in your veins, his eyes glowing faintly when hunger took hold. and yet, there was something mesmerizing about him. something that, once captured in his gaze, left you with no escape.

he wasn’t alone, though. at his side, as always, was kim seokjin, the eldest among them. where namjoon exuded command, seokjin brought elegance, his beauty bordering on the celestial. his features were so perfect they could only have been sculpted by the gods, and his dark hair, sleek and always in place, framed his face like the softest of veils. seokjin’s deep brown eyes shimmered red when hunger overtook him, an alluring, dangerous reminder that beauty was not just skin deep. yet, despite the intoxicating allure of his charm, there was nothing kind about the way he looked at you. he was a predator. refined, yes, but no less lethal for it. he walked in perfect synchronization with namjoon, each step a promise of dominance.

together, they were a force. an unstoppable pair. but the coven was more than just these two. min yoongi was their shadow, the embodiment of mystery and danger. while namjoon and seokjin basked in the power of the light, yoongi thrived in the shadows. his dark, messy hair—a streak of silver marking his age—fell across his face, hiding the icy blue eyes that glowed with hunger. yoongi’s silence was more powerful than any scream. he watched from the edges, waiting. waiting for the right moment, the right victim. his clothing, dark and gothic, fit the nature of a creature whose mind was always calculating, always measuring risk. his power was in the unseen, the quiet moments before the storm. he wasn’t a man of words, but a man of action, his presence felt long before it was ever seen.

but there was also jung hoseok, who was not the same creature that the world saw in the light. his golden-brown eyes gleamed, burning with an intensity that could only be called dangerous. where the others carried themselves like kings, hoseok was a tempest, bright and full of fire, but beneath that brightness lay an ice-cold resolve. his hair, a chaotic mess of red and black streaks, was always wild, matching the turbulent energy that pulsed beneath his skin. his smile, so warm, so inviting, was enough to disarm even the most cautious soul. yet, hoseok’s smile hid the truth: he was a hunter, with instincts sharper than the blade he wielded. when he moved, it was like a storm breaking free of its chains. he, too, was a predator, but he wore the face of a friend before he sunk his teeth in.

park jimin, on the other hand, exuded a beauty so delicate, so refined, it was almost too perfect for this world. his porcelain-like skin gleamed in the darkness, contrasting against his dark, silky hair that was always styled to perfection. jimin’s eyes, golden, like the deepest of amber, would shimmer with a predatory hunger whenever he desired. his smile, sweet as it seemed, always hinted at something darker, something far more dangerous. he was their seducer, the one who could entrance any human with just a glance. but it wasn’t just his beauty that made him dangerous; it was the way he used it, the way he toyed with his prey. jimin was a creature of temptation and death, his elegance hiding the brutality of what lay beneath. in his presence, it was hard to know if you were safe or if your time was simply running out.

kim taehyung was unlike any of them, in that he didn’t need to be anything less than himself to be a force of nature. his beauty was the stuff of legends. sharp, defined features, violet eyes that seemed to pierce through your soul, and a presence that was nothing short of magnetic. taehyung could entrance anyone with a glance, his hair dark and shimmering with hues of blue and purple, like the night sky reflecting the stars. but it wasn’t just his beauty that made him dangerous. it was his unpredictability. taehyung was a creature of extremes. his calm could suddenly break, turning him into a predator you never saw coming. he wore the finest clothing, long, dark coats with intricate detailing, but his true power wasn’t in what he wore; it was in his ability to command any room, any situation, with a simple word or look.

and then there was jeon jungkook, whose presence was as imposing as the rest, yet even more brutal. his dark eyes, always so piercing, would glow an ominous red whenever hunger overtook him. his rough, tousled hair, mixed with his chiseled jawline and muscular frame, gave him an almost feral appearance, one that screamed power, that demanded respect. jungkook didn’t hide his nature as the others did. he was a predator, and there was nothing delicate about him. he was ruthlessness incarnate, never apologizing for his thirst, never hesitating to claim what he wanted. his skin, pale against the defined muscles of his physique, marked him as someone who had transcended human frailty. he wasn’t just a vampire, he was a force to be reckoned with.

together, they were a terror, a coven of such dark power that the world itself trembled in their wake. their hunger knew no bounds. their thirst was never quenched. but in the quiet moments when the blood had been drained and the chaos had subsided, they were left with only one thing: the search for something far rarer than any human they had ever consumed.

a human woman. one who could carry their bloodline forward.

the breeding program had been scarce. in the years that had passed, there had been few women who had been found worthy of such an honor. but there were whispers, rumors that a new one had been born. someone special, someone who could bear the next generation of vampires. and the coven needed her. for in a world where vampires had no way to reproduce on their own, the survival of their kind lay in the hands of these few women. and they were willing to do whatever it took to find her.

for now, they waited, their eyes scanning the world, searching for the next one. but when she was found, when she finally appeared, they would know. and then, there would be no stopping them.

the room was thick with silence, the air heavy and stale. the girls sat in tight rows on the cold stone floor, their faces pale and fragile under the dim, flickering candlelight. the older girls, those who had been here longer, leaned against the walls, their eyes glazed with the hollow weight of the days spent in this place.

nobody moved as kim yuri’s voice echoed softly through the room, carrying with it the promise of something darker, something unavoidable. she spoke of the vampires. of their hunger, their search for a woman who could carry their bloodline, of the breeding programs and the feeding programs, of the girls who had come before them and had never returned.

“…they’ll stop at nothing,” yuri murmured, her voice a low whisper that seemed to slither through the cracks in the stone. “they’ve waited too long. the coven will come for us. all of us. and we won’t have a choice. they’ll take us, make us what they need… use us for their blood, for their offspring, and then…”

her voice trailed off into a chilling silence, and for a moment, the girls around her were all still, eyes wide, trapped in the same suffocating fear that seemed to have no end.

but just as the weight of the story pressed down on them, a voice, sharp, defiant, cut through the air like a blade.

“stop.”

yuri’s words died in her throat as a girl, no older than yuri herself, stood and stepped into the center of the room. her eyes were burning with a fire that cut through the darkness, her stance unyielding, her voice trembling only slightly but holding a force that could not be ignored.

“you’re scaring them,” minji said, her voice firm despite the way her hands fidgeted at her sides, the anxiety curling in her gut. she was no stranger to fear, but the constant need to keep everyone from breaking under it weighed on her heart. “they don’t need to hear this.”

yuri blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face, but then she smirked, her lips curving in a cold, almost predatory way. she could sense the shift in the room—the unease growing even sharper now. “oh?” she asked softly, stepping closer, her voice lowering. “and you think they don’t already know what’s coming for them, minji?” she looked at the younger girl, her gaze piercing, full of mockery. “you think they don’t hear the whispers of their fates every day?”

the other girls shrank back, their heads lowering even further. some held their breath, unwilling to look up. but minji didn’t flinch.

“i know,” she replied, her voice tight with the effort of holding back the terror that threatened to consume her. “we all know. but there’s no need to make it worse.”

yuri scoffed, clearly unmoved by the challenge. “you think your pretty little words are going to change anything?” she snapped, her eyes narrowing, a dangerous gleam flickering in the dark depths of her gaze. “they’re going to be taken. they’re going to be used. that’s all we are to them. food. breeding stock.”

minji’s jaw clenched as she stepped closer, her fists clenching at her sides. she had to keep it together for them, for everyone in this room. “stop pretending like you’ve got all the answers. just because you’ve been here longer doesn’t mean you know everything. we all know what they want from us. but we don’t have to live in fear of it every single day.”

“fear is all we have left,” yuri sneered, her voice dripping with cold bitterness. “you can’t pretend we’re not living in the shadow of it. you think hiding away from the truth is going to protect you?” she glanced at the other girls, her words becoming crueler. “you think if you just ignore the truth, they’ll spare you?”

minji took another step, her breath shallow but steady. “i’m not hiding from it,” she snapped, her voice shaking but growing louder. “i’m not hiding from anything. but i refuse to let you make them think there’s no way out. you’re not the only one who knows what happens here. but they don’t need you to break them. i won’t let you.”

the room was dead silent as minji’s words hung heavy in the air, each girl silently weighing the force of what she’d just said. even yuri seemed to pause for a moment, her smirk faltering slightly as the quiet tension stretched between them.

the older girl’s eyes flickered with a strange, cold amusement. “you’re just a dreamer, minji. just like the rest of them.”

minji’s gaze never wavered, even as the weight of yuri’s words lingered. “maybe i am,” she replied quietly. “but if we don’t hold on to hope, what do we have left?

the silence stretched for a long moment, thick with the tension of unspoken things. the younger girls around them watched with wide eyes, their hearts pounding in their chests as they tried to process what had just happened.

finally, yuri’s lips curled into a sharp smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “we’ll see how long that hope lasts,” she said softly, turning on her heel and walking away, leaving the room to settle back into the heavy quiet.

as she left, minji stayed standing, her heart still racing. she didn’t know how to fix this place, how to stop the cycle of fear that gripped every girl here. but for now, she would hold on to something. anything. she wasn’t sure how long they’d have to wait, or how long they’d survive, but she wouldn’t let them be consumed by despair, not yet.

not while there was still a chance.

authors note: heyyy so like i told myself i wasn’t gonna start a bunch of fanfics out of fear that i’d end up not finishing them but like guys i literally just watched nosferatu and i’ve been nonstop thinking about that aesthetic for a fanfic so like i needed to do this. just a heads up this is gonna be really dark from the get go and also will probs be slower updates since i am still working on my other two works and plan on prioritizing those !!

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[amilfdala]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ perdition.

pairing: cain x lane. — tw: assault, death. — words: 2.2k. — rated: t. — chapter: 1/?. — high school graduate lane & priest in training cain happens to cross each others path. — tag: @rc-catalog. — fandom: heaven’s secret: requiem.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎chapter one. — the first sin.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lane stood near the swingset, noting the rust and dampness on the seat as she contemplated. the wind fiddled with her hair, blowing a few wispy strands into her eyes. it caused her to blink once, twice. her actions looked automated, as if her physical body obeyed a set of pre-programmed motions, done in an attempt to make her appear human. a traitor in the pack, one would say, or an anomaly to fear.

there was a puddle nearby, and her reflection in it looked alien and lost, as if her physicality no longer belonged to her, and her conscious mind dawdled down to a thumping noise. to realign herself, a task herculean in its weight, required venturing past this haven of comfort that the park had become and welcoming a change of pace.

after adjusting the strap of her school bag, which hung haphazardly over her shoulder, lane shed the unnecessary trinkets she was forced to take home as parting gifts into a trash can. she watched as it all fell with a clang, burrowing deep with the rest of the litter and fading from her disinterested view. although this extra weight was eliminated, there was still something pressing down on her. but alas, she was not atlas condemned to hold the sky, so she ignored the throbs.

lane’s blazer was left open, allowing the dewy but fresh air to wash over her, cascading in gentle waves. instead of taking the usual route home, she opted for the bystreet near the main compound, where people hung by the windows like ghosts. maybe not the sanest of decisions, considering her self-preserving nature, but that peculiar throb, irritating and insistent, had urged her forward.

her strides echoed ominously across the pavements as she sped through the winding pathway into an open road that led nowhere. thick fog formed around the town with a creamy consistency that made it impossible to discern any shape or form. and it looked like, somewhere along the way, lane had teleported, and now stood stranded on an alien land where the price for life was obscurity, and death.

she took in a deep breath. calm and collected, that’s how she should approach any situation, and how she must behave, as drilled into her by her parents. but it felt like a daunting jab, rather than well-meaning advice. they did not care about her, and had her almost out of pity for themselves, so any life lessons they imparted felt like hot stones being rubbed into her skin; sizzling her flesh and charring the bones beneath.

a chuckle left lane’s mouth, lips pulled into a thin line of mockery for her redundant life. what decision was there to make, anyway? the road ahead was haunted, she knew for sure, but so was home, and so was her life. the staggering realisation only lay in the fact that even an abandoned lane was as familiar as the place she referred to as home.

such thoughts only served as a fortitude for despair, and lane neither had the time nor energy to expend on such harrowing introspections. at least, not at the moment anyway, as there were plenty of chances for that, and plenty of chasms to fall into, once she returned home. so for now, the road less travelled will suffice.

and so she continued, a treacherous trek into the unknown, until she finally sensed some human activity. the toll of a bell was what she first took notice of, as it rang with clarity and cadence. then came the echoes of distant chatter, motorbike rumbles, and the permeating scent of an ordinary life lived. lane let out a heavy breath she didn’t know she had held in. it came out in wisps, challenging the mist around her parted lips.

she could vaguely make out the city square, the centre of lush civilisation. how she ended up there was a confusing ordeal, considering she took a route that led her away from this compound in the first place. but she appreciated the outcome nonetheless, as the derivative chill from a lonely, abandoned road was not as sprightly as she had initially imagined.

but her merriment dissipated right as she took another step, ramming into an obstructive figure. the force of the hit propelled her backwards, and the weight of her bag made her stumble even further. but lane got herself in time, swinging the bag from her back to clutch it to her chest as she looked up at a man leering down at her.

lane’s expression remained impassive, and she offered no apology, for this was not her mistake. her face almost contorted into an unsavoury expression, reeling at the sudden interruption of an otherwise peaceful outing.

the man did not let it slide. lane expected as much.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“where are you off to, conniving bitch?” he sneered, spit flying.

he was short and stout but proud of his stature. he gave off a threatening aura, which contrasted heavily with his haggard look. lane did not bother to make out much of his face, half concealed by the fog and by her own disinterest. but she knew, from his caustic tone, and the way his neck turned red from fury, that backing away was not an option.

retrieving a blade from her side pockets almost imperceptibly, lane stepped aside and mouthed an excuse me, unwilling to engage in violence unless provoked first. the man, however, had no intention of letting her go, and immediately lunged forward, grabbing her wrist in an iron grip.

lane yelped and hissed, her bag falling to the ground with a thud, and her along with it, as the man brutally shoved her down and hovered over her with a maniacal grin. “don't be shy” his acrid stench was unbearable, “you may beg for my forgiveness, through other... services”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her answer was a slash of her blade.

he sprung away, howling as if the blade had severed his heart and not his cheek that spurted a measly amount of blood. lane supported herself on her elbows, watching and observing from the ground as the man clutched the side of his face, which she finally feigned attention to, and regarded her handiwork with satisfaction.

but she had to leave, and fast. however, in her adrenaline-driven state, lane had failed to register her twisted ankle, caused by her sudden, brute fall. the impact even left behind cuts and bruises, courtesy of the gravelly road, and she remained in its prickly embrace even after several attempts to get up.

the man’s wailings had stopped, and lane had factored this development in too late. his laboured breathing slowly approached her fallen self, feet scrapping across the rock-strewn path as he looked determined enough to kill.

one step, two, and a third one. thud, thud, thud. the master with a scythe has approached to quell.

but the scythe did not swing. the master took no further steps. because a greater being took hold of its skull, and bashed it in.

lane noted the gleaming white fog, shimmering like stars. the glow brightened, eclipsed. she could vaguely make out two figures, one slumped, wrung like a ragdoll. and the other;

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he appeared, like a burst of supernova, pulling everything toward him with a force so divine the space around him contracted, and in a blink, exploded into a brilliant shower of sparks. the blinding lights around him parted, with the same ease of a curtain pulled, and he took on a concrete form, as if shedding his luminous light to remain compliant to earth’s strict regulations.

he had his fingers wrapped around the limp neck of the man who had attacked her, now blistering under his tight grip till the blood in his body flared and spluttered. lane had an odd wish to press her thumb to his pulse point, to feel the life in his body disperse in agonizing lengths. but her attention did not linger long on the writhing body, as she had a miracle to behold.

an angel, she realised, with staggering reverence and piety. she had half a mind to believe this was a farce, conjured up by her frightened state of mind. but she knew, goodness she knew, that this was no illusory trick, as his indomitable presence held a severity incapable of being recreated by the human psyche.

he was real, and he was here. while she was sprawled on the ground, kissing calamity in the face as she watched god’s creature smash a man into an adjacent pole, toppling it over.

when his attention shifted to her, languid in its movements and thoughtful in its gaze, lane suddenly felt conscious of her current disposition. she hid the blade in her palm, dripping with the man's blood, and the warmth of the liquid was cathartic enough not to make her lose her mind. when the angel inched closer, she scrambled back, huffing and glowering, and he stopped, pushing his hands up in a placating gesture, and waited.

he didn’t intend to leave, that much was evident from his body language, positioned toward her with an anchored resolution. lane bit the inside of her cheeks, sprawled on the ground like a crushed spider, flanked by his inscrutable presence. was there a proper etiquette to greet the heavenly messenger of god? she wouldn’t know, as she wasn't a frequent visitor of the church.

but the flashing pain in her ankles, acute and searing, drowned out all other worries and focused rabidly on one thought, to find an elevated platform to rest. she stood up in an attempt to move to a bench nearby, but her legs, which remained uncooperative to strenuous movements, buckled right before she could find solid purchase.

the world slipped, rushing past her vision with incredible speed, but then stopped just as abruptly, standing still like an obedient child. lane blinked, surprised, then slowly sensed the ice-cold grip on her elbows, and her heart sank just as it rose.

the angel was near her, dangerously close, who had wrapped his long, ivory fingers around her arm, and the air clashed with a static shock. she couldn’t help but choke on a strange morbid feeling as she looked up and met his empyrean gaze, which never wavered and silently took hold of her bereft soul.

he was beautiful, like that of a moon in the morning, all firmament, majestic, and evocative, but defying the rules of nature, appearing where he should not be. he had a sculpted, aristocratic face, framed by lily white hair and eyes so piercingly blue that it shamed the skies and the heaven it housed. he shifted, guiding the young girl to the damp bench, and diligently ignored her incredulous looks and appraisals.

all the events that led up to this moment created a startingly emotive effect, and it was incongruous enough to shush her body and mind, letting it slink back against the creaking backrest. taking advantage of her momentary distraction, the angel spoke, his silky smooth voice cushioning her leaden thoughts.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“you have nothing to be afraid of”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎lane looked at the body of the man beside them pointedly. “the evidence suggests otherwise”

the angel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and after brazenly sweeping his gaze over the unconscious body, settled on gracing her retort with a subtle smile. it unsettled lane, but it piqued her interest nonetheless, and she realized that she was inadvertently falling into a cesspool of emotions that were becoming increasingly harder to detangle.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he inched closer. “then lend me your trust, just for the day”

lane frowned, startled and confused. the blade between her fingers left another cut, like an amorous kiss of a parting lover. she savoured the sting, letting it ground her to reality as she pondered the irrefutable existence of him and this calamitous incident.

but right now, as she realised that the angel’s attention had pivoted to a space beyond her grasp, lane decided that such a stifling discovery could await its deserving reaction after she had made it back home.

instead of bombarding him with questions about his kind or asking after the penultimate truth of the world, she suppressed her sweltering curiosity and settled on a simple observation task. her eyes wandered unceremoniously over the angel’s figure, noting his athletic stature, the rigid posture, and the porcelain make of his face and skin. flawless, timeless, he stood tall, with a white button-up shirt, loose black pants, and a rosary wrapped tightly around his left palm.

the latter part spiked her already elevated interest. she wondered, for a brief moment, about what would happen if she threaded her fingers along his, snaked through the beads, and yanked it away from his palm. would he fall apart, then? would the mist take the earth's guest away, wavering like a reflection on unsteady waters, before the seams burst and the stars welcomed back its light?

lane didn’t linger long on her thoughts, unnerving and strangely addicting as they were, as a slight rustle forced her privy eyes up, and she caught sight of it. the thing that separated humankind from immortals, the anatomical difference that immediately stood apart; the wings.

but the angel shifted, breaking the spell with a divot of his movement, and caught the flitting eyes of the girl, urging her to cease her rove. he cocked his head to the side, crossing his arms across his chest, which crunched his flimsily buttoned shirt. impassive as he may, he had his moments of indulgence in human emotions, so he spoke, mimicking the tenderness of a leaf caressed in the wind. “i’m cain”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his extension of trust, she presumed.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“my name is lane”

[deus-and-the-machina]

I miss...giorno giovanna.

im thinking a lot about his complex role as a healer. his stand isn't meant to heal, he essentially brute forces it, which fits for the kind of person he is vs Josuke. furthermore, giorno is very self sacrificing in a very literal sense. he loses multiple body parts over the course of part 5 and just has to remake them. there's a ship of Theseus paradox here though I dont think THAT much of him was remade.

after the white album fight, mista tells him that their victory will be all of them surviving together as giorno once again tries to sacrifice himself. he takes this to heart, but soon afterwards its proven that this cannot always happen. His healing isn't enough. he can only give Bruno a little more time. and his reaction when bruno tells him this says everything.

Keeping everyone alive is his role, and he spends the early days of the part being given shit for being a newcomer, so having a solidified sense of usefulness only to have it swiped away so quickly when his stand cannot save his comrades is rough.

golden experience requiem is interesting in this context because its main purpose is protecting him from any and all harm. giorno has again, spent the entire part going through jojo typical levels of body horror, gore, etc, with the added benefit that he can remake limbs and chunks of flesh so they can do a lot worse to the part 5 cast and have them live. so in one sense, GER is a reward of sorts. he endured all that and his reward is never getting hurt again.

But at the same time, it's cruel irony that even with one of the most powerful stands in the world, its capabilities are on protecting him and no other. im sure that his enhanced capabilities make it easier of course, but the idea that he could still be too late will forever remain. whug.

[bokkudoesntsleep]

The Unchained Melody: Soukoku

The scent of blood lingered in the air, thick and suffocating. Rain pounded against the pavement, mixing with crimson in a silent requiem for the fallen. Chuuya knelt beside him, hands trembling as they pressed against Dazai’s wound, desperate and useless all at once.

Dazai laughed softly, a sound so painfully familiar yet so distant now. His fingers weakly reached for Chuuya’s, brushing against them with what little strength he had left.

“Oi, don’t you dare die on me, bastard,” Chuuya hissed, voice breaking as he fought to keep his composure. “You always pull shit like this, but this—this isn’t funny.”

Dazai only smiled, his breath shaky, his vision dimming. “Chuuya,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “If there’s a next life… find me, will you?”

Chuuya swallowed hard, his grip tightening. “You idiot, of course I’ll find you.” His voice cracked. “So don’t—don’t go yet.”

But Dazai’s eyes had already fluttered shut, the rain washing away the warmth from his skin.

Chuuya didn’t let go.

──

Years passed. Time was cruel in how it erased memories but left behind the ache of something missing, something lost.

In this life, Dazai Osamu was a name that echoed through stadiums and concert halls. A prodigy, a sensation, a ghost dressed in silk and shadows, pouring his soul into melodies that made hearts ache with emotions they didn’t understand. He was the lead vocalist of Unchained, the most famous band in the world. And yet, he never quite understood why no song he wrote felt complete—like a piece of him was still searching for something, someone.

Meanwhile, Nakahara Chuuya lived a painfully normal life. He worked an office job, complained about his boss, and lived for the few moments of peace his favorite band’s music gave him. Not that he’d ever admit it, but Unchained's songs resonated with him in ways he couldn't explain. Every note, every lyric—it was as if they were meant for him.

Not that he had any reason to believe that.

It wasn’t until fate decided to be cruel once again that their paths crossed.

──

Chuuya never intended to go to the concert. It was his coworker’s fault, really, shoving the extra ticket into his hand and all but dragging him there. The music wasn’t bad—hell, he actually liked it—but he wasn’t about to admit he was a fan.

And then, he walked onto the stage.

Dazai Osamu, in the flesh.

Chuuya felt his breath hitch. It wasn’t just his voice, wasn’t just the way he moved like he belonged in the spotlight—it was the way something inside him stirred, something deep, something that shouldn’t exist.

His fingers clenched around his jacket, heart pounding in his chest.

Dazai was singing about something lost. About promises unfulfilled. About searching for something he couldn’t name.

And Chuuya swore—just for a moment—when Dazai looked out into the crowd, their eyes met.

A flicker of something familiar, something aching.

And neither of them could look away.

─ To Be Continued?

A/N: Chat should I continue this? 🤔

[anghraine]

I saw a staggeringly wrong post (I think from the same source as this take) about how TOS Kirk doesn't experience any meaningful suffering or angst, he just gets frustrated by challenges to his authority/command. The idea of him having real angst is just made up and projected onto him by fandom. Yes, this is the same James T. Kirk who feels the need to log this thought process: "No man achieves Starfleet command without relying on intuition, but have I made a rational decision? Am I letting the horrors of the past distort my judgment of the present?"

It feels almost like cheating to bring up the most obvious counter-examples tbh, but I actually find it really interesting that Kirk's most haunting fears/vulnerabilities throughout a bunch of episodes are so persistent and clear throughout the show as a whole. A major one, for instance, is his loneliness/dread of being abandoned to solitude. Ignoring everything except TOS:

"Dagger of the Mind":

HELEN: The machine wasn't on high enough to kill. KIRK: But he was alone. Can you imagine the mind emptied by that thing? Without even a tormentor for company.

SPOCK: He thought you'd like to know the treatment room has been dismantled and the equipment destroyed. KIRK: Thank you. MCCOY: It's hard to believe that a man could die of loneliness. KIRK [staring into the distance while the camera focuses on his almost blank eyes]: Not when you've sat in that room.

"Conscience of the King":

LENORE: At the party, you were such a brash young man. KIRK: And now? LENORE: Now somehow different. Not a ship's captain with all those people to be strong and confident in front of. You know, you're really very dear, aren't you? In some ways, very lonely.

MCCOY: Mr. Spock, the man on top walks a lonely street. The chain of command is often a noose.

"This Side of Paradise":

KIRK: Except for myself, all crew personnel have transported to the surface of the planet. Mutinied. Lieutenant Uhura has effectively sabotaged the communications station. I can only contact the surface of the planet. The ship can be maintained in orbit for several months, but even with automatic controls, I cannot pilot her alone. In effect, I am marooned here. I'm beginning to realize just how big this ship really is, how quiet.

"And the Children Shall Lead":

KIRK [provoked by the alien's powers into a panicked meltdown rooted in his deepest anxieties]: The ship is sailing on and on. I'm alone. Alone. Alone.

"Is There In Truth No Beauty?":

KOLLOS [through Spock]: But most of all, the aloneness. You are so alone. You live out your lives in this shell of flesh. Self-contained, separate. How lonely you are. How terribly lonely.

"Requiem for Methuselah":

SPOCK: The epidemic is reduced and no longer a threat. The Enterprise is on course five one three mark seven, as you ordered. KIRK: A very old and lonely man. And a young and lonely man. We put on a pretty poor show, didn't we?

[yanderestarangel]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓!𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

TW: Sinful context, smut, masturbation, poetic language, angst, poem, priest!lbi han, corruption of values, unreliable narrator, cock warming, dom!reader, extreme worship, bi han's mind is distorted, nsfw, catholic context, inspired by edgar allan poe, angst.

Always following the heavenly orders, written by ancestral men, an ancient prayer said in choir. The collective echoed off the walls of the church Bi Han was accustomed to as a monotonous future and present written by the god he dedicated to his mortality.

But you were anything but ordinary.

For Bi Han, you were perfection, not even in sacred verses did he see such perfection, but not on a carnal level but, yes, in the soul, as if your soul called and cried out the submission of him, the priest without any error in years of priesthood , you made him question his faith in some divine being, an unreachable and implacable being or perhaps, you made him redirect his worship towards you.

The priest struggled with deeply buried desires.

His eyes, once pure, now lingered and yearned, while forbidden flames within him burned.

He was on his knees daily, his sore flesh was proof of Bi Han's failed attempt to divert the sensations of desire for you.

The weight of sin pressed against his chest, what was right or wrong?

Bi Han didn't know what words to say, a sigh and whisper was heard through the piercing stillness of the space once sacred to him, but now, there was no logic shelf.

The only god he wanted to worship was you.

Your eyes, your lips, your face, your body, every imperfection and perfection drawn on you, your mistakes, your sins...

He needed the worst thing he had in you.

With trembling hands, he clutched the rosary, seeking redemption for the sins that kept him captive, nebulous and vivid fantasies entered his mind, the bitter taste of a pleasure denied by ties he himself chose.

Fool, lost in vain.

He wanted you, he wanted to adore you more than he adored everything about the breath of life he had.

Like a glass house, about to break, this was the real Bi Han.

The vows he took, a solemn oath, now he threatened to collapse, because his spirit was torn apart, by the lust you awakened him, and he...

He just wanted to accept all of this.

Through the stained glass windows the moonlight streamed, Enlightening a soul in turmoil, it seemed.

The priest, torn between the call of pure requiem and earthly lust. He looked in the moonlight at the silver bath that entered the dark fortress that should be full, far from iniquity and lasciviousness.

But that was a counterpoint, an illusion.

Bi Han's hand guided itself to his own throbbing member, while he used his other hand to muffle the sounds from his mouth, all of them, coming out your name, like a prayer, a prayer he was used to directing to another lord, but now, his lord... It was you.

Throwing his head behind the messy linen sheets, his black cassock now open between his legs, he shed tears down his face, tracing painterly lines that could be read by someone as some kind of regret.

But not.

He had found his lord, something perfect.

𝐘𝐨𝐮.

The thick, pearly ropes shot out of his thick shaft, making him completely dirty as he fell to his knees, smiling, thinking about you.

If he believes in hope, Oh Lord, he well believes!

His source is most divine, most sacred, you.

He looked at your hands, he wanted to kneel and kiss your feet at that moment, grab your legs and never let you go, spread the veil of power that you had on your head, because the pleasure.

It's the most splendid thing you brought and the thought of serving you was much greater satisfaction than continuing that farce.

Bi Han was madman devoted, but it was for you.

Hands tangled in two sweaty bodies, sculpted by perhaps divine perfection.

He lowered himself to you, his priest's cassock, completely rumpled by your brutal and rough movements on Bi Han's poor hole, skin-to-skin sounds echoed with each passage of time.

𝐁𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝, 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

Bi Han's round, pale ass, now marked by your hands, was a worthy tomb.

"-Please, please my lord-"

As he always did on the nights he lamented about being a weak man, and taking pleasure in thinking about your body dominating him.

But there he was... A delicious sin, a sin of Eden.

There was no regret for him, you were everything he needed and if there was a divine being, a delicious chill, with each thrust stronger and stronger, given by you.

He dirty the church floor, the image reflected in the marble was of a submissive Bi Han and a mess, a angelic mess.

"-Don't stop, please, Oh Lord-" He screamed at you, his hands and legs sought some relief from the lack of support in your body, he reached release, staining both bodies moments after begging and worshiping you.

And it was, at your feet, the world, all luxury.

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. "𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐄𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧."

[sepublic]

TL;DR at the bottom... Even before the decision to include the Collector, I have to wonder if the writers always intended the backstory of a great war between the Titans and a group of celestial beings that descended from above, who smote each other and left only King behind as the survivor. The Season 1 finale alludes to other Titan corpses, with the Boiling Isles being the only fully intact one discovered; So there’s already that implicit question of What killed the Titans?

Likewise, there’s the angelic imagery surrounding Belos, that we also see introduced in S1. And while this could just be a reference to actual Christianity in-universe, I do recall speculating there having been a war between the Titans and divine beings from above during that time in response to this... Not to mention!

The Elsewhere and Elsewhen storyboards have Philip seeking a Song of Stars instead of the Collector, and we know there originally would’ve been three figures that cornered the Owl Beast in Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door’s storyboards. Sounds like...

I’ve speculated on these three as a motif since S1, with their first appearance being in Young Blood, Old Souls, where we first learned of the other Titans and their butchered state. Obviously, we must keep in mind that the crew changed the story after writing Eda’s Requiem, in response to the show’s shortening (this was told to them the week after Agony of a Witch aired, production takes a while), so K3oHD and EE’s storyboards may not mean much in regards to the pre-shortening plans.

But storyboards could’ve been written concurrently; They may have always intended an Angels vs Demons war between the Titans and visitors from the stars, that resulted in a mutual extinction. And the Collector and their backstory wasn’t totally made up in response to the shortening, either; Dana said they were a character concept the writers always wanted to explore.

So it could be that the shortening convinced the writers to make the Collector the face/representative of that extinct species, rather than a more conventional Archivist. And/or the Collectors would’ve remained purely posthumous characters in the backstory, the way Caleb and Evelyn are. The Collector was suggested as a kid of this celestial species to flesh them out, only to be truncated into just the trio; But with the shortening, the crew chose to actualize them as the lens through which we learn of their people’s genocide against the Titans, since they had so much fun with their concept.

Even before the show was shortened and the story changed, the writers might’ve always intended for the Titans to have been wiped out in a war against some celestial beings from space. They entertained the idea of a kid of that species, just as King is for the Titans; And when the shortening was announced in Summer 2020, Dana went F it and decided to elevate this cosmic child from the backstory and into the main story for our protagonists to actually deal with. Instead of an adult trio being this species’ representatives, the writers settled for the Collector.

Even if we didn’t get the Collector, that trio may have taken their place anyway. The background of their species’ genocide against the Titans would’ve remained; Philip’s plan would’ve been to use a leftover spell from that war, the Song of Stars, to enact a genocide upon witches as it was used for Titans (he may have mistaken the Collectors for literal angels whose mission he was finishing; Not unlike how he gets people to project divinity onto the Titan).

And since S1, he was always intended to be aware of and inspired by these celestial beings, who may have come in the form of a trio; Hence the Petrification statue, with the Owl Beast scroll as another hint. The curse is also red magic, which I compared to Belos’, and since he learned from the Collector...!

TL;DR I don’t think the Collector’s inclusion in the story changed it that much, since they’re just an extension of lore that was always planned, possibly filling a role originally intended for others of their kind anyhow; And it sounds as if Dana always considered the Collector, and thus might’ve gone through with them even if TOH hadn’t been shortened. Not that it really matters, because I find the Collector a legitimately compelling character in their own right, who in addition to their contributions to the themes, story, and other characters’ arcs, has justified their inclusion.