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beware-of-pity · 16 days ago

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You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) VI

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Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations. The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter VI: What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me (please, don't look at me)

. 𓆰♕𓆪

Court could be a ludicrous affair. If there was one thing you had become good at during those times Rhaenyra called for the throne room to be filled with her courtiers and petitioners alike, it was to stay hidden away unless you required anything, which was too often than you’d liked.

You had become good at stalling around, under the canopy of the floor beside the hall, blending in with other overlookers, and watching over the ordeal silently.

The walls of the throne room were abundantly draped in exotic tapestries and ornaments, a reminder of the ancient strength of your house. The looming statues of Kings of old, whose eyes were ever watchful, silently judged those who came after them. The latest addition? Your father, whose head gleamed high with the crown of the Conciliator - which now rested upon your sister’s brows.

A possession she never parted from, not when in public nor in private as far as you were aware of. One time when she called you to her room, once the Kings’ apartment, you had caught her studying the golden band of steel and colourful rubies like she held the entire world in her hands. The reflections of the memories of the deeds done, the blood shed, swords unsheathed, and dragons killed glistened in the stones forged for a monarch to wear on their heads.

At the steps of the throne, the most loyal of her Queensguard stood vigil, two sets of eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger, as Rhaenyra sat high upon the throne. Lord Corlys, her hand, and Jacaerys, her heir, ever ready to advise her, stood beside her as good counsellors would. Today, you would watch. There was no use in begging or making a public spectacle of yourself about your more-than-known wishes. You were done with begging; you would get no use of it whatsoever. What you needed to do now was find a discreet way to get what you wanted most, freedom, no matter how the idea sent wrecks of panic through your body.

Under the gallery, a cluster of lords, great and small, old and young, milled restlessly on one side of the room, while in the other, eager and awaiting smallfolk and commoners stood high on attention for the right opportunity to speak and make their case to present to them.

A hundred or so, you could count. Your father’s court had been one that showed the height of the power that House Targaryen had come under his reign. Of course, not because of him, but everyone would rather have him believe so than object to the King. Your father did not like conflicts, but he neither liked to be slighted nor offended by those he felt had no right to do so. Those who had lost their tongues for daring to speak of his grandsons’ less than-faring looks were more than alive to prove such an assertion…since they could not speak of it.

Many travelled far just to be able to attend them, and while he liked his feasts and wine, his small council made sure the city never ran without them to not insight less than…feelings of unjust to take root in the heart of its people. The side of the room in which the nobility stood was a sea of jewels, furs, and bright fabrics. Lords and ladies filled the back of the hall and stood beneath the high windows, jostling like fishwives on a dock. A great contrast to the rather shaggy and less than impressive common clothes of the smallfolks. You could see that many of them had made great many efforts to put a good hand in their presentation. Hair slicked and combed, many wearing their best clothes, which most of the nobles might regard as kitchen scrabs were they to be presented to them, and jewels, if they possessed any.

But there was one thing the two factions held in common — they all were trying to out best the other, the nobles most of all. It was a matter of pride, and perhaps greed, to show their riches to the extremes, as if their names, titles and family relations could not do so. Strip that away and all that remains is but a man and the greatness of a man cannot compare to what is given to illustre himself with.

Just that, you thought, should satisfy them enough, it was something that, after all, the common folks could not boast about. When they were asked in the streets how they would recognise themselves, they would profess their profession or whose son or daughter they were. But that was a trick they could only use in the streets of King’s Landing, where everyone knew the other, not in front of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

What could Rhaenyra know of the mastery of blacksmithing, that passed from father to son in an effort to make a family name for themselves? Whose hands shaped the blades her sworn men wilded? Or the bread makers whose stalls had stood by time, opening and selling bread to the famished mouths of families and people alike? that fed the city more than the food those ships that entered the city's port did? Food that was reserved only for the people of the Keep.

Everything these poor people did was to live, unlike those who thought they did so for recognition. The smallfolk had no time to think about becoming high lords, even though they dreamt of such a thing, when the matter of survival was an everyday occurrence for them.

And who could dare to think they could outshine Rhaenyra, for the vain thing she was.

She shimmered in a cloth of burgundy red, slashed in gold brocade and adorned by trims of black, while beside her, Lord Corly fussed and simpered in a brocade of sea green, the same colour of his house’s banner. Jacaerys wore a new motley suit that was as clean as a spring morning. In crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head, a slim, golden band sat upon his brow, framing his dark mane of curly hair. No one had ever looked as princely as he did now, in his elaborate clothing, hand on the pommel of his sword, a show of dominance you were not familiar with, but no less unpleased by.

He looked handsome, you thought, the most comely man at court. He held a woman’s beauty within a man’s face, a kind not seen since the days of your grandsire and his brother, The Brave and The Pale Prince.

Everyone seemed to have dressed for the occasion, even Baela and Rhaena, who stood not far from the three. They matched in style with each other and Rhaenyra, their mother-by-law, but both dressed in different colours — Baela in a bold red and black, a true show of lineage, and Rhaena in pastry cream and shimmering pink silk.

How pretty they looked, with their jewelled hair and flaring gowns. Oh, how you wished to one day be allowed the same….

By comparison, your gown must have made you look like you belonged with the common folks. No embroidery or intricately woven design ornated the fabric of your simple black gown, one that belonged to your mother in her youth. You had been told by an old maid, that had once been in your mother’s services, that your mother had worn the gown during the mourning period that had ensued over the court when Queen Aemma had first passed. You wondered, was it also the one she used to wear when she would visit your father to comfort him in his grief? The one her own father, your grandsire, asked her to wear to make her look more comfortable and easy to open up to? For your father to find a companion in his grief?

There was no use in inquiring over such matters, they were passed beyond you and your comprehension to understand. These were matters, schemes and plots you couldn’t wrap your mind around. Your grandsire, was he so desperate in his wants that he would use your mother in such ways? To further improve his standing and that of his line by…extorting your mother?

In the depths of the nights when you could not find sleep, you wondered, 'Would you end up like her?'

When the courtiers hungry for scandal whispered behind your back as you walked down the halls of the Keep, you asked yourself ' Would you meet the same fate?'

Were you bound to suffer under the hands of the same men that sealed your mother, your sisters, and your niece’s bounded futures? In the pains, in the torments that prickle their soft skins, scarring them with the signs of the sufferings of senseless acts of violence committed in the name of glory? Promised and bound to them by men who could only feel hatred and contempt towards them unless they were of use to them?

Your thoughts drove you to a madness you were sure every woman thought they possessed, in the anguish that wrecked your body as you sobbed and pulled at your hair in the hope that as you pulled at your tresses you would rip at the skin of your skull you would free your mind from the confines that tortured it. From the walls of the prison, it had been born into.

Men will call you a whore for doing the deeds of others but praise you for being their whore if it meant you were doing theirs.

Your scalp throbbed still from how raw your scarred fingers had tugged at them the previous night. You neither flinched nor hissed this morning when your maid had braided your hair, but your teeth had clenched together enough to leave the shape of your canine on the inside of your cheek. She asked no question, for there was none to ask, the cause of your pain in plain sight for her to see, professing in the angry, pulsing, redness that adorned the paleness of your skin. There was no need to pretend - everyone was to a degree aware of your plight, what use would you make of hiding what you wanted everyone to know or rather what everyone wanted to know? You’ll let them have it all, were it up for you. Give them everything they sought in you; the entertainment, the gossip, the pain. They seemed so desperate for it. Like rabid dogs betting money and throwing rotten food at some unfortunate soul in a ring built to secure them in place.

The pins used to secure your twisted and braided hair pushed and propelled into stray strands of hair they had not caught and chafed at your irritated skin, tugging your temple into a deep and tight ache around your head.

You pulled your shawls closer around you as you felt a loose chill pass by you when the door of the throne room was opened for another set of petitioners to enter, while the one from before walked out, some pleased by the arrangements given to them by the crown, while others grumbled under their breath about the unfairness of their end of the deal.

You watched as petitioners came and went like flies, one by one being replaced by the next, more awaiting hands and demands presented to Jacaerys. How he handled matters which might be difficult for others to sort, in fairness and equality.

With cool efficiency and a mind as sharp as the firm decisions, he had to make. He listened intently to each petitioner, asking the appropriate questions and weighing all sides of the issue before coming to a fair and just conclusion. He’d council his mother through whispered words, which she would listen to, and consider, before making her mind up through what he had counsoled.

He could feel your gaze on him as he handled the matters before him, making it all the harder for him to concentrate. He was acutely aware of your presence and would often sneak glances at the balustrade you stood before, sharing hidden and fleeting smiles before he returned to more pressing matters.

"Quite the sight" an older, deeper voice commented from beside you, pulling your attention away from the spectacle before you "So young and yet so well-meaning, not many men boast about such quality”

You settled back, returning to watch as the next petitioner stepped forward, his voice shaky as he explained his dire situation. “Lord Reynford” you greeted lowly.

Reynford nodded in response, returning the greeting, his expression courteous and respectful, even as he inched too close for your comfort. He turned his gaze back to the scene unfolding before the two of you. You noticed, that he too had seemed to join the nobles in their childish contest of playing dress up — somehow more flaring than the last you’d seen of him, his greying hair pulled back into a short ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Young Prince Jacaerys seems to be handling things quite well” he observed, his voice low, almost in your ear, which made you wonder just how long he had simmered around before deciding to approach you “Not every man his age would have the maturity and patience to hear out so many cases without getting exhausted or annoyed.”

“It’s what’s demanded of him,” you remarked, the obvious truth you both knew “Any man with a just sense of duty would understand that”

Reynford chuckled slightly at your response, his expression amused. “Spoken like a true Princess,” he said, his tone monotonous, bordering on mocking as you had come to know it. “You were raised in high society, taught the ways of court since birth. It makes sense you would understand duty and responsibility better than most.” He added “Sometimes, your gowns begets me to forget”

"I make no use of such knowledge now" you retorted "Not much to do when I spend my days like a prisoner, wouldn’t you agree?”

He tightened his lips, his eyes following a man being manhandled out of the room for thinking he could step forth in line, his protests ringing among the chattering of the crowd, and the faint sound of music coming from somewhere, surely to entertain those most in need of it. “You still retain your noble composure and wit, despite being kept prisoner here.” He said “That’s more than I could bargain for, were I you”

“We scraps of war must always find other ways to keep our wits sharp”

“Indeed, it is those who can adapt and improvise that survive the harshest of environments,” he said, his tone almost philosophical. “And you, Princess, have proven yourself quite resourceful despite being a traitor’s sister, no?”

Your face did not turn, but your eyes did, as they clashed and pierced with his. In turn, he held himself high, a smile that bordered on a smirk that threatened itself on his face as he remained unflinching in the face of your penetrating glare.

“I did not mean to offend”

“No offence taken” you assured, bitterly.

Reynford chuckled again, a hollow sound, the corners of his lips now fully curled into a smirk, but no amusement whatsoever danced along it. “You still have that sharp tongue of yours, I see,” he teased. “I’ve always appreciated your… spirited nature.”

"I don't see you appreciate others in such a way" you mused "Any nobles, not even my sister, the Queen, which you’ve no attempted of warming to”

“That’s different” he argued, voice gruff. “The Queen is… not someone I have any fondness for. And I do not appreciate the way she is treating you, being a prisoner in your own home.”

"One can only wonder why that is," inching closer to him, you hoped that perhaps the air closing in on him would make him feel the same way he did with you. Claustrophobic.

"You've shown genuine concern before, but I don't suppose this is a matter of emotions”

“Concern is for those who matter to me,” he said, his tone bordering on sharp, but not for you. “Your sister does not fall into that category, I assure you.”

"You avoid her" you sighed after the revelation had unfolded "I suppose I cannot blame you, I'd rather not think of it but," you said "I try to steer away from Rhaenyra's gaze before I fall victim to it”

Reynford’s eyes narrowed at your comment, both pleased with your cautiousness and on the choice you had made, which he thought smart of you.

“Wise of you,” he praised, his tone approving, which you almost found yourself melting for, having forgotten the feeling of being seen as good by someone else that wasn’t….Jacaerys.

“The new queen has a temper that can rival our fair waters in its tempestuousness. It’s best to keep your distance if you value your health.”

Despite the truth of his words, you found yourself defending Rhaenyra the only way you could "She's no less cruel than the kings that came before her" you rebuked "She knows what she must do and what requires that, it is not temper, rather...indulgences in the role she now fits”

He shook his head as if in disagreement but rather exasperated with all this talk of Rhaenyra. Despite this, his eyes remained thoughtful as he considered your view of Rhaenyra, one very different from his own, out of respect for you and your voice, so little heard and opinionated. He knew you spoke the truth, that Rhaenyra ruled with a firm hand and was willing to do whatever needed to be done to secure her position because it came from the need for it, whose circumstances required it be so.

“She is indeed her father’s daughter” he commented, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. “A Targaryen through and through.”

"Our father? No, no, no," you said. "He was weak." The admissions startled both of you, you of all, speaking in such ways of your own father.

He didn’t look surprised by the admission as much as you did. Sure, it was quite sudden, but he appreciated your honesty and the fact that you were not shy of admitting just how much of a mediocre ruler your father was, given how rare it was for people to acknowledge it openly. Viserys ‘The Peaceful”, what a joke.

He gave a slight cough, that bordered on a scoff, to regain the composure he had never lost, but rather to allow you to gather yours, his voice gruff as he spoke. “That he was” he agreed. “The late king was not suited for the throne, that is true.”

You gather your breath "He was a good man, a kind man, that, no one can disagree with" you rasped lowly, just between you and him, almost annoyed that whenever there was talk of your father, he had to be predisposed as a good man before being critiqued. His being a good man would not change the fact that he had been little use to no one "but he was a wavering ruler riddled with indecision. His legacy inspires no one”

He lets a satisfied hum escape his lips “On that much, we agree”

“I know her well, Rhaenyra….despite everything. I know her better than most, perhaps more than I like to think. We, sisters, bound by blood, our paths converged by the shadows of our shared pain”

Your eyes racked over Rhaenyra’s form, seated where your father had sat before her, and the Old King before him, and Maegor and Aenys and Aegon the Dragon in days of old. She sat on high upon every man and woman in the Red Keep, like the day the city had fallen to her, stern-faced and with a grip of iron on the mental armrests of the throne. You knew she still bore the scars of the night she had first sat upon it, having gripped it so hard she had bled her way out of the room come dawn.

“War changes people”

Reynford nodded, his expression thoughtful. The bitterness and pain in your voice were as clear for him to see as the moon on a clear sky, as well as the toll that the war had taken on you and your family. Despite it all, you still spoke of Rhaenyra with a hint of affection, perhaps out of the memories of the sister she had been before everything that had happened, a reminder of the bond that still existed between you two despite the conflict.

“Aye, war has a way of changing people,” he agreed. “I, myself, have been a witness to that. It has a way of shattering the most steadfast of souls. It chips away at their innocence and their humanity, turning them into people they might never have envisioned themselves as before. The horrors and losses endured, the betrayals and alliances... they all take their toll on the soul.”

"Rhaenyra always knew she would be challenged, I just don't think she thought she would have been usurped, and not in such a way” you observed as your sister raised her hand to dismiss a man who had clearly overstepped his bounds "that must have stung and made her realize that if she wants to change hundreds of years of tradition, she must first change to closely fit it"

"You speak with a wisdom that belies your years, Princess," he said, his voice laced with a hint of respect. "Change is never easy, and often comes with sacrifice and pain. Rhaenyra is discovering that the hard way.”

You studied him for a moment, unsure of how your next assessment would go with him “I seem to recall, you were amongst my brother's most ardent supporters" you murmured "and yet you seem to understand Rhaenyra's cause quite well"

His expression remained cool and neutral as he held your gaze, his eyes never leaving your face. Despite the confrontational nature of your statement, he did not falter with intimidation.

"I am a pragmatist, my Princess," his words were blunt. "I support the side that I believe holds the most promise and has the greatest chance of securing the future of my lands and family.” He turned to face you “Nothing in this is personal, you should learn to know that”

He could see the scepticism in your eyes, the doubt that lingered in your mind. But he didn't blame you.

"Believe me when I say there is no loyalty to be found in politics, only self-survival." he spoke carefully "No one here is bound by honour or allegiance, only by their own interests.”

“I share this secret with you because I have my reasons to, but” There was a pause as to let his words sink in, his eyes never leaving your face. “Sometimes, it is wiser to bend the knee to those in power, rather than remain staunchly standing on the losing side.”

He gave you a knowing look, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And sometimes, it pays to keep close to one's enemies. Everyone here is out for themselves, Princess. Everyone. Even your dear Jacaerys. He is no different."

“You misunderstand” you rushed to deny, the lines on your face hardening “There’s nothing but a fair friendship between me and my nephew”

“Do I now?” He asked, a hint of mock disbelief in his tone “One only need to look, and I have been looking” he warned you and your breath shuddered “I know he spends his evenings with you, supping with you, and one can only wonder what else. Were anyone to catch word of this, the scandal might ensue. People would wonder….”

Please no, you thought, Mother have mercy on me. He wants something, he’s asking for something, he thinks he deserves something, and the seven-pointed star dangling your neck will not ward off this kind of evil, after all, as you’d been thought, even the seven cannot reach where their light does not shine upon. Your hand gripped the stone balustrade, cold and searing under your son, marred, skin. You now wished you had not dismissed Ser Rickard.

“But fret not, I will keep your secret” he reassured, his hand coming to rest on top of yours with the same prudence one might with a wounded animal “because this….this is very personal to me, my princess” something in the way he had looked at you then filled you with dread. “As if reassured you, I only wish the best of you”

He leaned in to murmur the next words in your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shiver. “But I believe I am at liberty to demand something in return for looking out for your interests……”

“Be brave,” he whispered, squeezing your hand “Ask me what I want”

“What do you want?” You rasped. As if on cue, he glanced at where Jacaerys still stood, the Prince completely unaware of the situation you were put in. He had his back towards you, completely absorbed in the matters presented before him, brought by his page who had entered the room when you were most distracted. “You said you had my best interests at heart, this-“

"Of course, they are in your best interests, my sweet," his tone patronized you. "Why, I only want you to thrive and survive this...political maze that you find yourself in, with as little harm done to yourself as possible.” He said “And for that, you’ll need me”

Reynford leaned back slightly, his expression calculating. His eyes shone with a dangerous mixture of desire and greed. "I want your favour, Princess," he said simply. "Your trust and loyalty, in exchange for my silence. I cannot have you running to our prince the first chance you get to share what I know. No, I want you to owe me. To come to me when you are in need.”

“You want me to depend on you" you spoke the true intent of his demand "so that my every trouble becomes your shining, bloody, coin to flip on me whenever you want”

“Seems like we understand each other better than I thought”

"I assure you I will do everything in my power to give you what you want" he leaned in again, his voice dropping lower "and I'm certain, in time, you will reward me for it. You're a sharp girl, and fair, I know you will do the right thing, and when the time comes, I will call upon that debt, for a favour, a secret....or something more.”

He studied you closely, his eyes searching your face for any hint of doubt or resistance. He knows he must have frightened you, coming off so forward, when he had been nothing but destitute in your last meeting, so good and willing, and so false. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your body tensed ever so slightly. But he also noticed the resignation, such a familiar sight on your face, as if it came normal for you to feel. His eyes crinkled with the fact that you were beginning to understand, the game he was playing, and the power he now held over you.

"You are a smart girl," his voice was as smooth as silk, praising you once more. "I'm sure you will make the right decision." you watched as he retracted his hand, reaching for the pouch dangling by his belt "And as a sign of my goodwill towards you" he said, showing you what he had taken out of it.

A flower, one grown from your own garden, a snapdragon. Deception.

Your eyes widened in alert, and your senses filled with the danger in the air. "From your own gardens" he said, voice reverent as he twirled the flower in his hand "I had a member of my household gather it, to give to you. A token of my…goodwill" He stretched his hand to you, offering the flower, but instead of giving it to you, he held it to pin it in your soft ringlets. Before you could protest, he had already pinned the flower in the curls of your hair. The look of satisfaction he gave you sent shivers down your spine, as he took a small step back to admire his handiwork, his eyes swept over your face.

Then, he moved before you, as if to shield you from the crowd, hiding you behind his form. He took your chin in his large hand, turning your face to face his, which you had turned defiantly to face off the shame reeling inside you. He tilted his head as if to admire the flower in your hair more closely. His touch was gentle, but there was something almost predatory in the way he held you, his grip firm and possessive. "much better, no?" he mused "Better than those jewels your cousins abound themselves with, which I know you lust for”

You grumbled, trying to wrestle yourself out of his hold. He shushed you gently, his thumb caressing your face, and his eyes roamed over your features with an intensity that made you uneasy.

"Such a beautiful face should be adorned with flowers, not fake jewels. You are a dragon, they say, a blood of Old Valyria, and you should be celebrated as such" he sighed, as if displeased by your want of such trivial things. You should yearn for far grander things than jewels "but if it's those that you want, I will make sure to give them to you. In time”

He removed his hand from your face, returning it to his side, and you wretched yourself away. "But we shall speak of them another time, for it is getting late" his eyes turned as if he wanted to look behind him as if his eyes could turn around his head to look at whoever was glaring daggers in the back of his head “I've taken up enough of your time with my blathering, and it seems as if my own presence is not welcomed any longer”

He turned first, casting a meaningful look behind him, you followed his gaze up to the throne, where Jacaerys stood facing you once more, his eyes fixed on the both of you, while Rhaenyra conversed with Corlys. The look he gave was cold and stoney, and you could swear his face darkened once your eyes met with his. He was watching you two closely, his hands clenching around the pommel of his sword.

He regarded Jacaerys’ displeasure with chill distaste, sending him an amusing smile with a nod of his head "Ah, there he is" he mocked "your beloved nephew. Ever the guardian of your honour" he paused for effect "and your soul"

He took your hand, bringing it to his lips to lay a chaste kiss on your skin, and you held yourself back from snatching it away. “I hope to hear from you soon, Princess”

You watch as Reynford leaves you, his smile still on his old and lined face. The kiss he planted upon your hand lingers as if it left a mark on your skin, and your hand reaches to scrub away any memories of it with your thumb.

You let out a shuddering breath, his words still ringing in your head. As if drawn by an invisible force you looked down at the throne, where you find Jacaerys staring unblinking. He stands there, his gaze fixed on you, his expression unreadable. His body emanates tension, his muscles taut yet coiled tight, as if he were ready to pounce forward at any moment. He watches you silently, his eyes flickering away for a second only to check on the direction of Reynford’s movements.

You lean forward, letting your hand rest on the cold stone. You want to reach out to smooth the deep frown off his face, to soothe the anger and tension that gripped him. You mouth his name silently, concern writhing through you—for him, for you, for his anger, and for who it was directed.

Please don’t be angry, don’t be mad at me, please.

Jacaerys’ expression flickers for a moment, his eyes slightly softening a fraction at your mouthed plea. The tension in his body eased if only slightly, replaced by a sense of uncertainty that seemed to fill him.

His eyes don’t linger on the soft flesh of your face for long, his eyes dropping for a moment to the sight of your fingers clinging onto the stone, still raw and bloody from the last time you had your indulgence of them. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and when he looked up at you again there was guilt written all over his face.

His eyes watch you, and yours follow suit, and for a moment it seems that nothing else exists behind the world you two created when around one another. His foot itches to move, to walk towards you, to make sure you are safe and fine. His shoulders sag as if carrying a heavy weight, his mind troubled. You stumble as you fidget in place, the helms of the many layers of your skirt move along you, ruffling against the floor, and your breath gets caught in your lugs.

He smiles strainly, wanting to give you the comfort of the assurance that he wasn’t mad at you. How could he?….he could never. But the smile doesn’t last long, before he turns to face the crowd before him once more, making the brief interaction seem casual, friendly… and not what it was. A tense interaction.

A tense moment.

AN: Heyyyy, so it's been a while. A month, huh? I do feel the need to apologize for the prolonged absence I had not planned nor had in store for you all. Between the holidays, going back to uni, preparing myself for my upcoming exams, and a writing block I got stuck with, I just didn't have any sort of motivation to write. Anyways, on more jolly thoughts, happy late holidays and happy new year, everyone. To more chapters and fanfics to come from me, hopefully. Also, Reynford is now part of our main cast, I know he can be unsettling and downright seem like a Larys 2.0, which he kind of is, but he means well guysss.... for now. I've always been an avid enjoyer of period dramas and historical recounting, books, movies and series, so I've been watching Wolf Hall over the holidays, and I do feel the need to say that Reynford is heavily inspired by Mark Rylance's performance of Thomas Cromwell in the series. Do with that what you'd like.

Taglist: @esposadomd @aleemendoza2425-blog @nen-nyy

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castillon02 · 2 months ago

Text

“You ‘have amnesia,’” Dr. Sharma repeated, her eyebrows arched.

“Oh yes,” Q said. He cheerfully waved his hand at his bandaged head. “Mugged this morning. Terribly traumatic. Physically, not mentally, since I don’t remember any of it, of course.”

Dr. Sharma’s eye twitched. “I see.” Over the past year of therapy, she had grown inured to Q’s shite, but this was perhaps a new level of it for her. “Amnesia,” she repeated.

Q beamed. “Judging by the dark circles under my eyes, this seems like a bit of an opportunity for a fresh start anyway,” he said. “Past me looks overworked.”

Dr. Sharma had been trying to get him a holiday for the past four months. Her “I see,” every time M had denied his request for leave had become steadily sharper. Now her eyes gleamed. “Amnesia,” she said, smiling wider than Q had ever seen.

(Also on AO3)

—

“Amnesia,” M said, squinting at him from behind his desk. “Really, Q?”

“M,” Q replied, tasting the name as if he’d just learned it. “Seems a bit funny to work for a letter, but I suppose my past self had his reasons.” He leaned back in his chair and cast his eyes around the room as if those reasons might be visible if he looked for them.

M’s hand twitched toward the security button on his desk lamp. “You answer to the letter Q,” he pointed out. “You clearly remember some things.”

“The name Q has silent vowels,” Q said, straight-faced. “Q-U-E-U-E. A long line in A&E is the first thing I remember experiencing, so it seemed fitting. You know, waiting for something that never seems to come gives you a lot of time to think.”

M glared. “If this is about your leave—”

“I am leaving, yes,” Q interrupted. “I even have the paperwork filed for Queue Smith, since apparently you lot do that here.” He quirked his eyebrows. “You still haven’t told me what I do, exactly, but I assume it’s some form of tech support, not anything crucial. Something other people have been trained in.” Like Q had been training R and X for the past six months, for instance. Specifically to deal with M’s bizarre separation anxiety.

“You are actually one of our most valuable assets,” M gritted out, clearly aware that said valuable asset was a lying liar who was lying to him at that very moment.

Q smiled. “What a shame I can’t remember anything, then,” he said. “No value whatsoever now. In fact, Dr. Sharma distinctly said I was as useless as a pin-pricked prophylactic, and the rest of the medical department agreed with her.”

M’s eyes narrowed and he sat a little straighter. “Dr. Simmons would never go along with this.”

“Dr. Simmons thought the whole thing was very novel,” Q disagreed. “In fact, he said amnesia might be under-diagnosed, particularly in injured field agents being recalled for missions.”

M frowned. “How patient-centric of him.”

“Oh, terribly.” Straightlaced Simmons, head of Medical, didn’t always see eye to eye with Q, but they both prioritized the health of the people under their care. M wouldn’t find anyone in-house who would challenge Sharma’s diagnosis. Now for the killing blow: “Everyone says that if I’m lucky and have a nice long rest, then I might remember some things. But who knows? Amnesia is unpredictable. I could be out of the game for good.” Q gave an innocent shrug.

“It can be dangerous, walking around ignorant in the world,” M said.

“Maybe,” Q said. “But I got mugged while I was working here with all my memories intact, so really, nowhere is safe, is it? Might as well be unsafe in the Maldives.” Q gave M his most beatific expression. It was rather cute of M to threaten him with being killed, as though Q didn’t have a dead man’s switch for exactly that contingency.

M gave him a long look but eventually sighed. “I’ll put you on an indefinite medical leave. Don’t do something stupid with your free time.”

Q stood. “I’ll do whatever I please. Since that is, in fact, the point of the term ‘free time.’”

—

Q spent five days eating take-away and playing Elden Ring in his pajamas. On the sixth day, he had enough energy to move, so he took the train and then a bus to a little town in Andalusia, dreaming of egg-and-potato fry-ups and sunny olive tree-laden views.

Warmth. Sunshine. Red roofs and white stone buildings. An outdoor cafe where he could drink his tea and people watch.

Down the street, a wrinkled old woman stooped down to scratch a brindled dog whose whiptail flew back and forth at the attention. Q watched them until they rounded a corner out of sight. When he brought his gaze back to his own table, Bond was sitting across from him. Shite.

“Amnesia,” Bond said. His eyes crinkled at the corners.

Q stared him down. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” If Bond asked about a mission, Q was going to send him back to R and X for replacement corneas.

But Bond shook his head. “You can call me James. We don’t know each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we could change that.” Bond gave him a half-smile, somehow sheepish—different from his Target Acquired smile. His bright yellow I Heart España t-shirt was more camouflage than Q had ever seen him in.

“Caminito del Rey has beautiful vistas,” Bond added, his blue eyes locked on Q’s. “Or I know a place with good tapas if you’d rather eat than hike.”

This might be a work-shaped trap. But there wasn’t any tech in the Gaitanes Ravine, and yellow wasn’t the color Bond wore when he went anglerfishing. Additionally, traversing a treacherous one-meter-wide walkway carved into a rock face a hundred meters above a river sounded like it was genuinely Bond’s idea of a good time. “If we went hiking,” Q said, “it wouldn’t be efficient. I take pictures of cool bugs. I lollygag to look at spiderwebs. I get distracted by rock formations.”

“If I wanted efficient,” Bond said, “I’d wait until you ‘got your memory back.’” He offered Q a wry tilt of his mouth. “I have it on good information that you’re currently useless, and I don’t expect we’ll need any of your skills from the office.”

Bless the medical staff’s ability to gossip. Q exhaled and slouched a little. “You’re really here just because?” he asked.

Bond shrugged. “We’re good at being useful together. I thought we might be good at being useless together too. If you like.” He tilted his head.

Q stood without answering.

Bond stood with him. His designer blue jeans stretched flatteringly around his thighs. No concealed carry. His watch wasn’t one of Q’s. He had a knife in his boot, but that was sensible enough. His t-shirt showed off tan arms criss-crossed with pale scars and a smattering of graying hair. He had a red España bucket hat tucked into his belt.

007 on holiday.

Q smiled. “Lead the way.” He extended his hand.

Bond took it. In the center of a rural village steeped in machismo culture, Bond held his hand. “I have a car,” he said, and they walked, still linked at the fingers, to where Bond had parked his entirely normal Mitsubishi Mirage rental. Good god; a hatchback. Not even four-wheel drive. Bond was really giving this ‘useless’ thing a genuine effort.

If this went well, Q would have to send 006 a basket of explosives. Rather than leaving his mugging-based amnesia up to fate, he’d rather desperately arranged for a surreptitious blow to the head from one of Six’s experts in cranial violence. He hadn’t expected that his memory loss would lead to something so lovely.

#00Q #mi6cafechallenge #festive fanwork fiesta #castillon writes

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itspileofgoodthings · 3 months ago

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Also it’s really fascinating because in a certain way Austen finds the trope of redemption through romance/good girl fixes bad boy dead but in an even realer way Henry is just the wrong candidate for it. Or, to be even more accurate, the setup of Henry and Fanny is the wrong match for it and that’s what makes it funny. The truth is that Henry objectifies her, NOT physically. His appreciation of her beauty is hands down the most romantic thing he feels for her but he objectifies her morals and her goodness, in essence: her character. He, and in a different but equally real way Mary treat Fanny like a doll and every time she does something of quality they react with surprise and delight as if a doll had done it. The fact that the surprise and delight are genuine makes it worse because it’s even more objectifying. They’re like “look at the doll speak! The doll said something incisive and profound! The doll doesn’t even know of what quality she is made because she’s so simple! Noble simplicity!” And it is objectively condescending and—not to beat a dead horse here!!!— truly objectifying. They both see and sense her superiority to the rest of Mansfield but that doesn’t mean that they treat her like a person. Henry makes much of her, refuses to listen to what she actually wants, enlists Sir Thomas against her, feels no scruple whatsoever about putting pressure on her, and doesn’t know her well enough to know that she does “know her own mind” despite not knowing her own manner. He’s also the wrong candidate for this trope because he’s too knowing and observant. He KNOWS he’s in the trope. He’s kind of like “hmmm Fanny redeeming me, Fanny changing me, wow, love to consider it from a moral aesthetic point of view, what a flower in her cap that would be and how it would stick it to the rest of the Mansfield crew” and so he’s not set up to be surprised or charmed into compassion and real love 1) because he’s self-aware of the good it would do him and 2) because he gets ahead of the good by manipulating it for his own schemes. Alleviating boredom/sticking it to Mansfield and co. being the two main ones for as far as I can tell. He even knows that if he just waits, if he just holds out that “absence, time, and distance,” as he says, will speak for him. Will clear his way. Will work on Fanny’s heart. Because it IS a powerful trope for a reason! And especially if Edmund was out of the picture re: Mary what else would there be for her to do? But that’s the thing. He SEES the truth of it and sees the inevitability of it but only because he’s thinking of this in terms of winning—winning her, but also just winning at the scheme, pulling the con. True love doesn’t do that. The absence, time, and distance of which he’s speaking would be enacted by someone with a loving heart in such a different way because it would just be the simple act of compassion and not wanting to trouble the beloved that would be the motivator. It would be Darcy going back to his normal life after the Hunsford proposal with no intention of winning Lizzy back or determination to pursue her or need to clarify anything past the letter but still with love in his heart for her. Henry doesn’t have that love and never did and so cannot be changed by it. He plays the stakes of it all like a game and because Fanny isn’t playing it at all he loses, in every possible way.

#and Edmund treats her like a person always #he is a FOOL especially re: Mary and he is blind but he stood up for her. wants her happiness. protects her from Aunt Norris.#thinks about what she wants and treats her neither as an invisible purpose or a person on a pedestal #and he just loves her. took him some time to realize it was romantic but he DOES love her. always has!#mansfield park

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fangbanger3000 · 10 days ago

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a last note on the ai-fic bullshit

a couple days ago, a person i had never spoken to before shared my call-out post on x with the earnest intention of spreading awareness of the issue. she was attacked and harrassed so harshly by the same group of people who have been dragging my friends and i through the mud that she ended up having to deactivate.

this group of perpetrators then did their very best to turn this whole conversation on its head by accusing the poster of being anti-solavellan, of sharing the post with malicious intentions of dividing the fandom and tearing down amateur writers, and grouping her and i/my friends as antis and what not.

my thoughts on that development aren't any that i can express with any diplomacy or maturity whatsoever, but @drakonmo herself did a wonderful job at gracefully carving out the very important conversation we, as fans, need to have within our communities. whether you observed or participated in the conversation surrounding the silence and the song and the following shitstorm, i strongly urge you to read her post (here) (on x).

tldr/to those who might be in a rush, let me pull out some highlights:

by deleting the evidence and refusing to acknowledge the public claims were ever made, these people who despise me and wanted to foment discourse could succeed, armed with the trust and respect of loyal followers.

suddenly, the entire wall of text of explanations, of signs, of concerns were reduced to nothing but one portion of the whole. people began to attack OP and me and write threads, posts, etc, saying we were insulting all creators everywhere and we were - singlehandedly - the reason people didn't share their artwork.

clearly, these people argued, this insult and injury to all writers everywhere was a sign of these posts being a hate campaign. suddenly people could completely ignore the fact that the OP is a HUGE shipper, and i have been the world's most vocal proponent of shipping the particular character with anyone and/ or everyone.

i saw some people ask questions - what's happening, what's the drama, what's the situation? and they believed blindly the first things said to them without even trying to seek the truth or sources for themselves - and i truly mean this was an issue on both sides, for both people who ultimately agreed with me and people who did not.

the people that deliberately misrepresented what was being said, who nitpicked so that they could justify choosing "us versus them" - i ask that you consider, if you can and you would like to, to internalize and reflect how you may be susceptible to situations like this happening OFFLINE.

if ONLINE FANDOM misinformation can rouse such a level of discourse, hatred, fear, and anger over a fanfiction or ship ...what are the implications for REAL LIFE?

are you possibly reading a headline and believing it without reading the full article?

are your political and personal opinions swayed heavily by your peers, rather than being shaped by information and political education?

are you well informed and checking for bias from your chosen news sources?

do you exist in an echo chamber that has actively harmed your ability to understand other perspectives and worsened your capacity for allyship?

we best fight FASCISM when we recognize how we approach the people and issues around us, no matter how small. supporting artistic integrity in your fandom is a low rung on the ladder, but your approach to a sense of community and how news, conflict, and opinions form and spread IS vital.

thank you for reading, and thank you to those who have stuck by me (and by mo) despite the backlash it might have caused you. this has been insane and i look forward to never discussing that fucking fic again, but that doesn't mean we get to turn our heads on how this all turned to shit in the first place.

as a self-proclaimed safe space often characterised by escapism, we owe it to one another to make sure this community is as safe as can be and remains one where we care for one another despite which fictional characters we think should kiss.

#dragon age #solavellan #fandom critical #the silence and the song #tsats #dav #da #da:v #ai art is not art #i'm not sure what to tag this honestly atp i'm just using the same tags as before #propaganda #solavellan critical #question mark #dreadrook #who gives a fuck this is important #solas dragon age #solas #discourse #diskurs

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thewertsearch · 9 months ago

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And now we have to deal with this motherfucker.

It’s probable that Scratch knew things would play out like this, which means this message was always intended for Karkat.

...it's probable that that's the case, but there's always a slight possibility that we're in one of his dark pockets. If so, then Karkat wasn't supposed to see this message, and might be about to learn something Scratch doesn't want him to know.

Mr. Vantas.

Dang it.

I'm delivering this message through the console of one of my numerous unwitting proteges to give you a word of advice, and then you will not hear from me again.

Characteristically unhelpful - and in fact, it might not refer to either of Eridan's victims. We still have Tavros's corpse to deal with, and I'm sure there'll be more bodies hitting the floor before the day is out.

All of the bodies in the room remain as they were. There is clearly nothing to be concerned about whatsoever.

Feferi has an eldritch connection through the Horrorterrrors, and they could probably pull some dark magical shenanigans to get her body moving again. I think that's unlikely, though, since Feferi's ghost is active in the Dream Bubbles, and I don't think she'd actually want to be revived. After all, she's go a job to do.

I'm still convinced that Kanaya's coming back, but it's hardly going to happen while our back is turned. We're out of Kernelsprites, so she can't be prototyped - and we can't use her Dream Moon Slab, if it even exists, because Prospit's been destroyed by Jack.

Frankly, I can't think of a single realistic way to revive her short of time travel, and that's not a road we want to go down. I'm really trying not to think about what that might mean.

I guess that leaves Tavros.

There's definitely something going on with him that we don't understand. He was about to smooch Vriska before she stopped him, and the Breath symbolism surrounding the act makes me think it was more than just a typical Dream Self revival kiss. He has a hidden power, and that power seems to kick in when someone's dying.

Could Tavros be a little less dead than we've been led to believe? It's possible - his arc doesn't scan as complete to me. He'd only obtained the merest shred of confidence before Vriska brought him fatally down to earth, and I think there are still many interesting places you could take his character.

CG: THERE YOU ARE, YOU HAD ME WORRIED DUDE […] CG: QUIT THE BULLSHIT PARTYCLOWN ANTICS AND GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE. […] TC: shut up. CG: WHAT… TC: I SAID SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP, MOTHERFUCKER. TC: honk honk honk :o)

Gamzee’s rocking a new quirk. He’s still swapping cases, but they’re alternating every message rather than every character, as though his mind is less scrambled than it used to be.

Could this be how he talks when he's off the slime? He already seems more aware than before, and his grumpiness evokes a hangover - but he's honking more than he used to, which is the opposite of what I'd expect if he was sober.

CG: SERIOUSLY, GET BACK HERE NOW, AND HAVE A SLIME PIE TO RELAX OR SOMETHING. TC: SLIME? TC: there is no more slime, brother. TC: AND ANYWAY. TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know?

Yup. It looks like Gamzee’s gone cold featherbeast.

It's not a great time for this to happen, but it's not like we can stop it now. I highly doubt Gamzee was forward-thinking enough to reproduce his pies through alchemy, and things are a little too tense right now to try getting clever with an Appearifier. For better or worse, his supply has dried up for the foreseeable future.

So now, for the first time, we're interacting with a Gamzee who isn't out of his mind on soporifics. His shift in personality is already pretty drastic, and I'm interested in seeing what the real Gamzee is like.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s120 #3353

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blueskittlesart · 2 months ago

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pleeease give a review for infinity nikki ive been thinking about downloading it but i dont know if i have the space and if its worth it to clear some up for it !!!

as someone who spent HOURS on flash-based dollmakers as a kid, i absolutely love it. the gameplay hits somewhere between dressup game and open-world RPG, in that there's a large botw-like open map to explore, but the express purpose of exploring it is to unlock new clothes for your character. The exploration itself feels very calm and cozy most of the time, with the emphasis being on small collection tasks like fishing, bug-catching, and foraging. again, all of this is specifically to craft new outfits for nikki which you can both coordinate with no limitations to wear in the open world and use in scored styling contests with npcs, some of which reward you with game currency and some of which help you progress the story quests. the only place where i feel the gameplay truly suffers is in combat. you have one attack, and it's a ranged shooter, but there's no aim-assist whatsoever, and the mobile joystick isn't NEARLY sensitive enough to justify this. aiming in combat is one of the most difficult parts of the game, and nikki can only take 5 hits before she dies and has to respawn, making combat decently frustrating. However, there are very few places where combat is strictly necessary in-game, and both of the boss battles i've done so far had hitboxes large enough that it wasn't an issue; it's really in the open world against hordes of smaller enemies that the lack of targeting becomes really frustrating. other than that, though, the controls are fairly well-designed and intuitive, especially if you've played similar games before.

The clothes themselves are the star of the show, of course. I've yet to see a single clothing item in the game that I don't want. there's a good mix of fancy intricate outfit pieces and basics to obtain early-on, and without even touching the gacha you can coordinate some really cute outfits via in-universe boutiques and quests that reward you with clothes. Even the very obviously themed ability outfit sets that you craft early on almost always have a few pieces that are easy to mix and match with, so there's a TON of styling potential even for free players! As for the gacha, it's actually one of the more generous games i've played in terms of rewards and pity systems. My one complaint so far is that the 5-star gacha outfits especially seem to be very accessory-heavy, meaning it's possible to pull shoes, multiple necklaces, gloves, socks, and hairpieces before ever pulling the dress they're very obviously designed around. there is a pity mechanic to prevent this, but it requires you to pull a few too many times before your guarantee imo.

The story is ridiculous in a good way. It kind of reads like a 2000s-era barbie movie to me right now, in the best way possible. there's an amazingly predictable sexy villain, cute little flying creatures that follow you around, and every conflict is, of course, solved via clothes in one way or another. My absolute favorite thing about the writing, though, is how blatantly earnest it all is. at no point does the game poke fun at its own wacky concept or even attempt to make some self-aware joke about it to the player--it plays everything completely straight, and in this aspect it almost feels MORE self-aware. it knows that the kind of person who wants to play a dressup rpg is also the kind of person who does not, under any circumstances whatsoever, want to be questioned or made fun of for their love of fashion or their engagement with that game. It very much feels like the devs know that they're working with primarily girls and young women and a subject matter that those girls and young women are often looked down upon or made fun of for seriously engaging with, and so it promises to engage EXTRA-seriously to make up for that. (side note: there's one point in a story quest where, when asked to make a wish, nikki wishes that all girls never get cramps again. that was when i knew this was a game that knew its audience.) If I wanted to nitpick, i might say that every quest so far has sort of felt like an increasingly ridiculous trading sequence--you learn what you need to do very early on, but you'll always spend several hours of gameplay encountering obstacles and doing other smaller tasks to circumvent those obstacles so you can reach your original goal. this might annoy me more if the game was trying to market itself as a serious RPG, but it seems very self-aware to me, and despite how i'm describing it none of the quests ive played have actually FELT tedious. I think the fact that it's such a wild concept to begin with gives the writers a bit of leeway in how they handle the story quests, and because I as the player am aware i'm playing a dressup game I don't really expect quests to immediately get to the point and let me fight something. I will say that there are certain things that aren't super intuitive especially if you aren't a seasoned gacha rpg player, particularly the features relating to advancing your skills and the styling points of your clothing. though the game does technically explain what you need to do, it doesn't explain the RELEVANCE of the feature, just that it exists, so I had to lose multiple styling contests before I realized i could upgrade my clothing to get higher scores.

The final thing I'll talk about is performance. I'm playing the game on my iphone 13, and the performance is.... not great, i'm ngl. Off the bat, if you play the game on a mobile device, you're going to be getting a HEAVILY scaled-down version of the terrain graphics. all of those screenshots you see online of beautiful terrain full of flowers and particle effects are from ps5s or custom pcs. truthfully, the mobile app looks like a game from 2012 and it will still turn your phone into an incinerator. I've also encountered multiple graphics bugs, some during pivotal scenes, and I get consistent lags when playing for longer than a few hours, likely due to the strain on my phone's hardware. it's also an INSANE battery drain, so i only play when my phone is plugged in. All that being said, the game has been out for less than a week, so visual bugs are inevitable, and the developers have stated that mobile optimization is a priority, so hopefully we'll at the very least no longer have to overheat our devices to play it soon. Also worth noting, from what I've seen the rendering of the CLOTHING doesn't suffer AT ALL on mobile devices. presumably they sacrificed terrain rendering to allow for such beautiful texturing on the clothing itself, which, given that the clothing is the main focus of the game, I can't fault them for. Basically, if you're going to try to run an unreal engine game on your iphone, be aware that it will run like an unreal engine game on an iphone. and prepare yourself to have to let your device cool down every few hours.

tldr: i love the game so far. i'm really excited to keep playing and see where the story goes, and I think they should make more games for girls <3

#asks #infinity nikki #<3 <3 <3 #did anyone here ever play style savvy as a kid? it's not the same by any means but in terms of the clothes it very much has the same vibes #in that there's a great balance of basics and complex pieces and an insane amount of styling potential. god i loved style savvy #I barely ever went to my store in that game i'd just buy out the depot over and over so i could make new outfits for my character #OH ALSO other note: I really appreciated that despite being open-world and having so much jump-based platforming the game blatantly refused #to EVER allow for panty-shots no matter what outfit nikki is in. her skirt will not fly up while she's exploring #and when you remove her clothes in the dressup menu she gets a nice tasteful little tank top and shorts set! no oversexualization here <3 #again a great example of the game knowing its audience

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defrosted69 · 5 months ago

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MY Laker Star 3.5 (Huh Yunjin)

Okay this was a request from @dav1233555 that took way, WAY too long so sorry about that lol. also, this preety much answers what had happened why our mc went from Lesserafim to New Jeans

heads up, Its angsty enjoy

Yunjin moved away from the window glass, watching the sight below her as her feet landed in the elevator. The elevator only kept her busy with her palm on the button because the stillness was so deafening. Her mind keeps replaying the memories till it deafens her. She repressed her tears, feeling the anger in her heart grow stronger. She had just watched her own happiness be chosen by someone else, and she didn't want to cry.

She was aware that all she was doing was convincing herself that your heart was with her. She wanted to think that there was love between you and her, therefore she disregarded the indicators that were in front of her face.

Perhaps there was once love between

Or was it just nostalgic love.

She hurried out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, not even caring that she was drawing stares. Her plate was already piled high with the issues facing both her own group and herself. Right now, all she needed was a safe haven where she could be herself without fear of judgment. However, there is a cost associated with celebrity.

She instinctively followed her legs to the women's restroom, where she noticed her own reflection. Her tears had dried up and formed their own consciousness, cascading down like waterfalls and making her wonder how much of her life she can still manage.

"Shit..."

The only term that could adequately characterize her current state of mind was a quiet growl. She got the impression that her life was being held back by her own transgressions, and that everything she had done up to that point had only made things worse. She was alone with herself, everything was going wrong, and it was suffocating.

Since everyone was against her, she had no one to turn to as her own barricade. There was that performance that everyone chose to pick apart and felt would shatter their self-esteem. Their defenses crumbled and their reputation was damaged. Even their own admirers doubt their ability to be idols. Everything went south after that, causing a ruckus throughout the Kpop business.

When they could not demonstrate why the Silver spoon should have been placed on an idol in the first place, people started to wonder what use it served. People started to wonder if the idols of this new generation had not experienced the same hardships as their predecessors in order to retain the motivation to keep improving and honing their profession. People started to wonder who created and who was merely handed the Silver spoons as more and more organizations appeared around..

As a performer herself, it was a major gut punch for her because, even though you are a performer, having your confidence in yourself undermined by being asked if you are truly one. It's exhausting to consider how many more people joined in to criticize you and how they nitpick all your mistakes.

While the fire was raging fiercely, they were placed on hold and forced into the basement to hide. Although their company made every effort to reduce the heat, the power of the media served as fuel to fan the flames. There are articles popping up everywhere, most of which have no connection whatsoever to the primary issue. And people change sides so quickly.

From loving them to turning against them.

From praising them to bad mouthing them.

From being loved, to being hated.

From their perspective, everything they do is flawed, and their words have lost significance. Nothing about them seems right to them.

When Yunjin looked in the mirror, she could no longer see the girl who had such a deep love for both her followers and herself. Standing in front of the mirror served as a depressing reminder of the frail girl she really was—a girl who tries her hardest to improve but is never successful.

She opened the faucet and used water to clean her face, giving her hands a slight shudder. She detested seeing the shattered and sad girl in her reflection as he rubbed water over her face.

"Why... Why.. Why..."

She repeatedly cleansed and massaged her face, but no matter how many times she does so, nothing will be able to erase the anguish that is written all over her face because all she can do is let the tears fall. She can't get that grimace off her face no matter what she does.

Making sure there would be no disturbance in this room, she wept quietly by herself in the restroom. She wanted to make sure that her personal issues didn't need to disturb others. Ultimately, this was her own issue to resolve.

She allowed her eyes to speak for a few minutes before covering her identity and the inner turmoil she was experiencing with a mask and baseball cap. She wanted to spend some alone time with herself, but as soon as she left the room, she observed that you and Haerin were holding hands and laughing joyously.

Yunjin could tell you were happy with her because of the contented and cheerful smile on her face. Upon witnessing the person who brought her joy turn into someone else's happiness, her heart broke into a million pieces.

She feels so hurt by your happiness since it seems like all of your shared memories have vanished from her life. She hurried out of the building, looking down while clutching her headgear. She walked aside, her eyes containing another flood of tears as all she could see was the harsh concrete. She continues to feel so unwelcome in this world with every step she takes.

She did not realize it, though, that she had arrived at the park. The trees were gently swaying in the breeze. People chatting, laughing, and taking in their surroundings. She was undoubtedly in the city park.

She takes a seat beneath a wooden bench and closes her eyes, allowing her heart's story to be revealed by her recollections of the past.

FLASHBACK: A FEW MONTHS AGO

"That's right Y/N. It's not just me who's in love with you..."

As Yunjin was speaking, Kazuha was informed of his direct messages. Yunjin was already aware that she and the other members of her band had grown fond of you. particularly Kazuha. She was the first to express admiration for you, after all.

She therefore didn't want to seem conceited and ignore her friend and bandmate. Even if Kazuha is already in love with you, she preferred for her to give you a chance. She was open to letting Kazuha have fun while she was with you.

Since everyone in her group outperformed her in every category, she was already coming to terms with the possibility that she would not even be chosen. Yunjin isn't as flexible or cute as Kazuha or Chaewon. Each of them has an incredible quality, such as her only being able to express her feelings for you in the past.

She called it a trader of nostalgia. Her only tool for winning you over is that, and even she admits that using such tactics was quite pitiful. However, all of her memories of you are in the past, and that's all she has to hold to.

To her surprise, though, you quickly pierced her heart with a lightning bolt as you closed your phone and gripped her hand. Her pulse was pounding and swaying to the same tune—love—that she was unable to control.

"Yunjin. I don't need anyone else but you."

Yunjin was the happiest woman alive after hearing those words alone. She was living out her daydream. She never would have imagined that the story would become true. She wishes she could stop waking up if she was asleep and dreaming right now.

Nothing but herself could sense the love and real delight in her eyes. She was a young woman who was madly in love. She ran to put an end to her feelings and rushed to put her arm around you.

"R-Really? You mean it?"

"Yes. I mean it."

She had enough to rejoice over the realization of her dream with just few words. You chose to step back and offer her a smile that said a thousand words when you were both singing songs of love. And you observed that there was still some time left before nightfall and that the sky hadn't yet grown really dark.

So you set up your official date, hoping to see her grin even more and maintain it throughout the day.

"Let's go on a date."

"Eh? But it's getting dark and-"

"Don't worry about it. I got this. After all, I want to see that smile of yours further Yunjin."

Your remarks made her even redder, if she wasn't already. She was surprised to learn that your flirtatious behavior wasn't all bluster. She gains even more points because the guy she previously thought of had a flirtatious side.

"Alright. Lead the way"

You seized her hand and hurried across the crowded Los Angeles streets without even waiting a second. Yujin could only look at you because it seemed like everyone was commenting on the two of you.

It's been stated that when you're with someone you love, everything stops. It's been stated that when you love someone, everything else fades away and your attention is solely focused on them.

That's what Yunjin was feeling right now.

One youngster in particular sticks out among the throng of people; he was the one holding her hand and grinning lovingly at her. Yunjin experienced a feeling of being pampered like a princess, and everything seemed like something out of a fairytale.

Their feet stopped at a place you were both familiar with, laughing filling their ears. When they both walked into the restaurant, Yunjin's smile never faded.

With you visible to the staff's eyes, they immediately all smiled as they know what they should know.

"You seem known here Y/N."

"It's my favorite go to restaurant. They make the best food around here in downtown LA."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The staff greeted you like you were one of their own employees, and you both laughed. She found that incident to be quite touching because it gave her the impression that you were loved and revered not only for your basketball prowess but also for your enormously compassionate heart.

She was happy that it was paying off since she knew you were always polite and that it was in your nature to be friends with everyone.

She was a little uncomfortable to be asked who she was because she didn't know what to say. She was getting ready to be referred to as just a friend in front of everyone because she was still a little surprised that she was already your girlfriend.

"She's my girlfriend."

Well throw that out the window and call her beloved because with your announcement just made her land into the clouds of nine. Your smile only topped up her dreams as she wished to melt right now at the spot.

And it continued further when the staff of the restaurant treated the place like their own world. They reserved a seat just for the two of them and even added candles to add to the romantic ambience.

"They didn't have to go all out."

"Trust me Jen, I didn't know it too."

Their hearts were so satisfied with each other that they laughed together. Yunjin thought that everything was too good to be true, and she didn't want the day to end. However, it was evident from her indicators that today was indeed a great day.

She was reminded of their earlier days of simply enjoying each other's company while eating and conversing about uninteresting topics by the meal that was given to them. She appreciates the small things about you, and she's happy that they haven't changed over time.

After dinner, there was just one more location to show her. You took her hand and led her to a spot overlooking the city without saying a word. a place you learned about while out on your own at night. There were innumerable evenings when you believed no one would ever understand you and you felt alone in the world.

Even though it was far from the city, the effort paid off because the view of the city was stunning and overwhelming once you two arrived. When Yunjin saw the splendor of the city at night, all she could do was softly gasp. The city felt livelier than it did when the sun was out, despite the time.

"Yunjin. I hope that our hearts will be stringed together forever."

She started crying because she was unable to hold back her happiness when you spoke to her in a sincere and caring manner. She responded by giving you a hug, but all you could hear were muffled cries. Nevertheless, she was still able to speak.

"I will. I promise to be with you.. Always... I love you"

Truly it was a great love story that broke down many romance narrative. But that was pointed towards the past and not into the future.

Because as time went on, our connection, which had previously blossomed, began to deteriorate every moment.

There wasn't even a hint of the smile you so desperately wanted to see on her face right now. It was like winning an award that was locked away.

Yunjin was likewise unable to locate the guy who gives her the feeling of freedom and love and keeps her up at night.

It was as though a knot in the thread had suddenly become loose, and when they attempted to loop it up once more, it broke.

When their love for one another began to fade in their lives, they were completely unaware of it. That once-strong kindling of fire has faded, turning everything into a miserable ash that is useless on a cold winter's night.

She found it painful to witness how everything went from being ideal to eventually becoming lost. Simply put, the gestures and spark had vanished. It hurt Yunjin especially since you weren't just a stranger standing in front of their sweetheart, who was simply a stranger they had formerly known.

You were her friend.

You were there all the time for her

You were her wall when she leaped into her destiny.

You were her once everything turned to nothing. That has completely broken her heart and undermined her self-esteem. And just when things weren't getting any worse, they did, for everyone in her group as well as for her.

That terrible performance was in no way a justification for how she feels about her intimate relationship. Her job as a performer was to take the stage and kill it. Rather, their supporters and detractors slaughtered them.

This was supposed to be the perfect time to have your shoulder, your voice and your heart for her but where were you?

You were nowhere to be seen.

She didn't want to get in touch with you because every game matters during the playoffs and you were in that stage. You still reach out to her even if she made the decision to keep her problems to herself. And once more her smile appeared.

But when the voice she was expecting didn't sound the same, it vanished. It had lost its loveliness. Rather, it was the concern-only voice of a friend. She realizes her partner is no longer with her.

She shouldn't have held onto it for so long considering how long ago it vanished. She was grasping only air, no longer a rope of their affection. She couldn't have imagined losing you, which is why it was so upsetting to her.

It's because of you that she thought love was genuine. She had never experienced pure love this close to him, and she had it with you.

Sadly, she also lost it to you.

Because you loved her before she did, did she truly love you? Or did she just tell herself lies to make it seem and feel genuine?

You no longer made the effort or attempt to ignite the spark. You personally witnessed it. That Yunjin you saw and fell in love with then was a different Yunjin. No matter how much you wanted it to, your heart didn't scream her name. It disapproved of the notion.

In an instant, all that has transpired between you and the memories you both shared vanish in the same manner. The affection vanished.

When Yunjin opened her eyes, she had no idea that the day was coming to a close and that the sky had turned orange. She shed a tear on her left, but didn't give it any attention because she had to go back to her room with her friends.

Her members was the one thing she could always count on, no matter what challenges she encountered.

In their worst moments, they supported one another. She wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for their support, which enabled her to overcome her personal struggles. In another universe, there's a good chance she lost it and vanished from this world.

However, because she felt the love and concern from her members, it didn't happen in this universe. For her, the fact that they remained together at this difficult time was sufficient to enable her to go on and lead a fulfilling life. Although that might not be the perfect story for her, you know what they say.

One door opens while another shuts. All you have to do is wait for them to show themselves.

Yunjin took a deep breath and turned to face whatever lay ahead of her. Why should she give up now that she has persevered this far? She moved backward into the arms of her members, whom she might joyfully refer to as..., a slight smile spreading across her face.

her home

#kpop fanfic #le sserafim #fanfiction #kpop #angst

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vendetta-if · 1 year ago

Note

So, question about Yvette. Did she ever want to be a mother? It's definitely implied that the pregnancy was unplanned.

I'm curious if she went through with the pregnancy because Viktor was willing/wanted to raise MC, or if Yvette got cold feet after their birth.

I'm always mixed about Yvette, her choice to not be involved in MC's life was certainly selfish, but no one should be forced to become a parent, especially if the child in question will be taken care of.

From what I’ve seen so far, I think a lot of readers also didn’t really have a problem with her not wanting to be a mother because she didn’t want to, but they seemed to mostly dislike her after she humiliated MC in the store 😔 Anyway, I’ll take the chance to kind of explain more about Yvette’s line of thoughts when she found out that she was pregnant, so it’ll be a bit long.

At that time, she was not ready to become a mother and wanted to focus fully on her career. She did decide to go through with the pregnancy because Viktor begged her to keep the baby and promised that he would take care and raise the baby all by himself—he wouldn’t try to pester or get her to get involved whatsoever in the baby’s life.

And Yvette agreed to it because she loved him a lot… and she was also aware that this hidden relationship between her and Viktor was already coming to an end, especially now that she got pregnant. She knew she couldn’t keep stringing Viktor along like that, and as painful as it was for the two of them, the relationship had to come to an end.

To her, agreeing to giving birth to MC was one last grand gesture of love for Viktor before they went on their separate ways in life.

Selfishly enough—and this is not something that she would admit even to herself—she was also hoping that raising MC would kind of make it harder for Viktor to try start another serious relationship and fully move on as she already established herself as the mother of his child, and that MC would also be something for Viktor to remember her by.

Deep down, she’s still in love with Viktor and she kind of secretly held out hope that Viktor would keep waiting for her, for when her superhero career was finally at its peak and fully stable so she could potentially return to him.

I’ve touched upon this before, but I feel one of Yvette’s biggest flaws is that she just couldn’t choose and wanted to eat her cake and have it too. She kept her relationship with Viktor a secret because she didn’t want to jeopardize her career. And when that failed and she was forced to choose, she still tried to think of a way to get that back in the future.

Yes, young her was selfish and only thought of what’s best for her and what she wanted. Maybe it’s a product of her upbringing. She was born an only child to a wealthy family and if her charisma and beauty alone were not enough to charm people around her growing up, she has her Empathy power.

But I do believe that she did quite a lot of growing up and self-introspection since then, especially after the bookstore incident with MC and Viktor’s death. She is still far from perfect but she’s also not the person she was 20 years ago.

Also, ironically enough, her hope of Viktor having a hard time moving on from her because of MC turned out to be the opposite. Viktor actually moved on and got over most of his feelings for her because he was so focused and happy raising MC, making them his number one priority in life.

During the first few years after MC was born, Viktor still kept contact with her, meeting her every couple of weeks or so and during these meetings, Viktor would tell stories about MC and even showed her some baby pics. Eventually, that became less and less frequent until it finally stopped altogether as Viktor became more preoccupied with raising MC, and Yvette with her career.

#asks #char: yvette #char: viktor #if: vendetta #if vendetta #vendetta if #if game #if wip #dashingdon #choicescript #hosted games #choice of games #cyoa #cyoa game

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antimatterz · 1 year ago

Text

reverberating ruin

blade, seele, jing yuan, yanqing, dan heng (normal and imbibitor lunae separately), kafka x gn!reader

summary: how they react when you praise them after hitting high numbers of damage.

cw: self-aware au, just a short headcanon post

enyo's note: featuring my previous or current favorite dps characters. title is the achievement unlocked when you hit 300k damage. my dan heng favorism might show in this? tagging @hiraethsdesires <3

content under the cut | masterlist

blade

it was in a boss battle that blade suddenly struck the highest number you'd ever seen from him. as you yelped in surprise, he just looked at you weirdly, as if to ask, what's the matter?

you point at the screen, which adds to his confusion only more. did he do something wrong? he couldn't imagine; he served you as he was supposed to do as your main dps.

"bladie!" you exclaimed. "you– that was insane!"

insane? what was insane?

you gushed, "i thought this damage only existed in streamers' videos. you're the best!"

he would never admit it, but his immortal heart fluttered a little when your words of praise landed upon his ears.

"i just did what i'm supposed to do," blade huffed as he folded his arms and averted his gaze away from the screen.

he tried so hard to act unaffected but your words do something to him. his mindset is void of any positivity, so the feeling is quite foreign to blade. it had been ages since he last experienced something like that.

please praise this man more often!

seele

it was just a normal battle in the overworld. nothing special, no special buffs or whatsoever. as your opponents gathered afore you on the screen. seele pariently awaited her turn before she dashed off with her insanely fast attacks.

merely a single strike, but a huge number flew across the screen. your jaw dropped and you squeaked her name in delight. seele shot you a sideways glance but continued battle, and only when every foe is down, she asked you about it.

"you did a massive amount of damage!" you gleefully told her. "i'm so proud of you, seele!"

her purple gaze widened upon your words, and she opened her mouth to say something but words didn't come out; you severely caught her off-guard with your praise.

"it's nothing," she sputtered. "it's just my duty."

she actually got shy, not something that occured a lot.

acted indifferent but was quite happy with your praise.

jing yuan

in a boss battle, he was playfully showing off without making it known to you – but yes, occasionally he liked to show off just for you because he enjoyed the way you gushed over him.

accompanied by the lightning lord, he caused a huge number to fly across the screen, making you gasp in awe.

"aeons, jing yuan," you said. "you're so strong."

he put up a humble act, hiding his smile because he knew he was strong. regardless, he loved being told so by you, which is why he tried a little harder sometimes.

"only for you," he shot you a playful wink.

continued battle even more fiercely, and while he was fully aware of the high numbers he hit, he loved to hear you praise him for it.

it was kind of like a game to him.

getting praise as he effortlessly hit numbers with more digits than you were used to. what more could he wish for? notice the satisfied smile the sleepy general wore as he fought your battles.

yanqing

the boy always tried so hard for you, never satisfied with his peformance. always eager for battle, only to be disappointed with himself when he deemed his damage unworthy.

so when you suddenly let out a squeal after he one-shot an opponent he haltsled his movements mid-battle. he gazed at you through the screen curiously.

"what?" he asked.

"yanqing!" you giggled. "did you see that?"

"see what?" he inquired, not quite getting it.

"that was a bizarre hit! you literally one-shot that dude," you chimed. "thank you, you're amazing!"

"i–" the boy began, cheeks flushing red. "it's uh, it's nothing. i'm just fulfilling my duty."

"that doesn't make it any less cool," you countered. "i'm proud of you, yanqingie. you did well."

aeons, he was so happy, but tried to play it off coolly. but after your words of praise, he tried even harder and harder, now with newfound motivation.

please praise him more often, so that he could finally feel proud of himself as well!

dan heng

honestly, you weren't sure what to expect from a free character. that couldn't be too good, right?

but dan heng proved the opposite multiple times already with numbers that reached higher and higher.

until he suddenly hit a number so high that it had you yelp in surprise upon seeing it fly across your screen; was dan heng really capable of hitting such numbers? well, apparently he was, and you were delighted.

"dan heng!" you exclaimed. "did you see that?"

"i did," he calmly replied. "what's the matter?"

"that was an insane number!" you explained. "aeons, you're amazing."

at this point dan heng's cheeks flushed a little bit, but he tried to hide it. "it's simply because you gave me a good build."

you tried to praise him, but he turned it right back towards you. that wasn't part of the plan? you got a little flustered as well.

"i just got lucky while farming for relics," you shrugged it off. secretly you just put in a lot of extra effort because you liked him, but that was your little secret.

dan heng (imbibitor lunae)

you had been pre-farming for him for quite a while, mainly to have good relics ready for him. you managed to create a build you were quite proud of and as soon as he came home, you equipped them.

beforehand you had heard great things about imbibitor lunae, and you were eager to see him in action now that he was built and leveled.

well, he instantly hit amazing numbers right off the bat and it left you speechless. you simply squealed in pure glee because ??? you just got him and he already outdid all your previous dps characters in terms of damage.

"oh my god, you're awesome," you impulsively chimed with a little too much enthusiasm. you clasped your hands over your mouth but dan heng offered you a faint smile, amused by your happiness.

"i merely do what you expect me to do," he explained. "i don't deserve your words of praise, but i am grateful regardless."

"as long as you know that i'm super happy with you," you told him with a smile. "you're a gamechanger."

you already loved dan heng in his normal form, but in his vidhadyara form he was even more amazing – you instantly had a new favorite dps, and you would make sure that he knew how happy you were with him.

kafka

when you pulled for her, you never expected her to take on the role of a dps. but from the start she hit quite some large numbers, while you thought of her as only a debuffer.

well, jokes on you, this lady is strong.

equipped with both a gun and a sword, she took down opponents with ease, and you can't help but gush over every defeat. and she knew how you reacted, shooting you a coy grin often.

you didn't even have to voice your praise; it was all over your face, your entire demeanor. and it spurred her on to do even more damage.

"you're so–" you began, but she cut you off with a smile.

"i know, darling," she said coyly. "you simply make me want to my best. you're adorable, after all."

you tried to praise her, but she threw it right back at you and you ended up being quite flustered. but secretly she loved it when you spoke so highly of her.

it went so effortlessly. and aeons, did she look good while fighting. numbers flew across the screen, leaving you stunned. well, that's kafka for you.

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