#spirit saintess

[liviavanrouge]

Trouble

Livia: *Looks around, quickly hurrying to Jack's tent*

???: HE BIT ME!!!

Livia: *Looks over her eyes widening*

Gage: *Knocks Jack over and kicks him right in the stomach*

Livia: *Slams into Gage's side, holding an arm out in front of Jack*

Gage: Saintess-

Livia: Don't you ever....DON'T EVER LAY A FINGER ON HIM!!!

Josel: Saintess, he-

Livia: *Throws her arms around Jack, hugging him close* NOBODY TOUCHES HIM!

Jack: *Glares at them, half his face buried in her chest, hands bound behind his back*

Josel: You scoundrel- YOU TAINTED THE SAINTESS

Jack: You guys are doing that yourself

Gage: REMOVE THE SAINTESS!!

Livia: *Gasps as hands grabbed her*

Jack: *Starts to stand, his eyes wide as hands grab him* LIVIA!

Livia: *Reaches for him alarmed* JACK!!!

Livia: *Gasps as the priests dragged her off* WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? LET ME GO!!!

Jack: LET HER GO!!!

Josel: *Kicks Jack right in the face, knocking him over* Quiet mutt....you tainted the Saintess with your nonsense

Jack: *Snarls at him, baring his teeth*

Josel: A dog that bites gets put down..

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles - Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess. So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport.

Series Masterlist

It’s your birthday, and you’re over the moon. You’ve been frugal, cutting out fancy coffee and takeout for weeks, all to splurge on this one, glorious, limited-edition novel from your favorite author. The packaging is pristine, the book jacket glimmering like a beacon of literary greatness. Today is the day. You’ve built this moment up for weeks—you’re practically vibrating as you sign for the delivery.

You tear into the package like it’s Christmas morning, clutching the book to your chest, grinning ear to ear. You settle in with a cup of tea, your coziest blanket, and crack open the book, fully expecting your soul to ascend to a higher plane of literary enlightenment.

It takes precisely three pages for your entire existence to collapse. This is bad. So bad, you can feel your spirit shriveling. Your entire life is a lie.

The book is like a train wreck—every sentence is a mangled piece of steel, but you can’t look away. Tears start forming in your eyes, not from emotional depth, but from sheer despair. It’s like the author forgot how to write in between winning their last award and releasing this... dumpster fire of a novel. But you’re not a quitter. You’ve made it this far—you’re not going down without a fight.

You turn the page with trembling hands, determined to push through.

The plot is standard—heroine is a saintess (yawn), love interest is the Duke of the North (ugh, of course), and the second male lead is the Prince (because originality is apparently dead). But then the villainess shows up. Finally, some promise. You grip the book a little tighter—maybe this will be it! The saving grace! The villainess is the queen of high society, beloved and powerful, absolute girlboss vibes. She runs everything with an iron fist and sharp wit, but then…

Then it happens.

The heroine’s hair comes loose. The villainess, in a rare moment of kindness, gently points out that her hair is falling out of its bun. And what happens? Does she get thanked for her thoughtfulness? No. No. The heroine goes, “You must be jealous of me,” and everyone agrees.

What. The. Hell.

You blink once, then twice. Is this…is this supposed to be a serious plot point? The villainess, this badass social queen, gets ostracized for suggesting a quick touch-up? Is this a joke? You flip back a few pages. Surely, there’s a mistake. Maybe you missed something. You didn’t miss anything. This book missed you with anything resembling logic.

So now, this powerful woman, once the queen of high society, is branded as jealous and bitter. She’s exiled from everything she’s ever known, her entire life crumbling because the heroine’s fragile ego couldn’t handle a little advice. And she’s not even the worst part. No, because guess what?

The only person who stays with her through it all? Her fiancé, Jamil Viper. Jamil, a baron she helped rise to the position of Duke, the man she loved, is by her side while everyone else abandons her. The romance potential is there. It’s right there. You’re practically shaking the book at this point.

And what does the author do with this beautiful setup? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The villainess, broken and misunderstood, alienates herself from Jamil. She pushes him away. And then—just to really twist the knife—she dies alone.

You drop the book onto your lap, staring at the ceiling. Infinite romance potential, wasted. You can feel your soul leaving your body. Jamil could’ve saved her. They could’ve had it all. But no. She dies alone, unloved, in the most tragic yet pointless way possible.

And that’s when it happens.

Something absurd. Something so stupid, it feels like divine punishment for buying this book. Maybe it's the way your body tenses in sheer disbelief at the plot; maybe the universe decides to play its cruel hand, but you feel a sharp pain in your chest.

Suddenly, the room spins, and your vision goes black. As the world fades around you, your final thought isn’t about your family, your friends, or the countless dreams you had for the future. No.

Your last thought is:

“Really??? On my goddamn birthday?”

And then, you die.

You wake up, stretch, and feel… odd. You glance at your hands and freeze. Your nails aren’t chipped? Your cuticles are trimmed? In this economy? You sniff the air. Lavender? Something’s very wrong here. You sit up and take in your surroundings. Ornate tapestries, a bed so massive it could host a small nation, and a freaking chandelier.

Oh no.

First thought: Have I been kidnapped? But hold up—what kind of kidnapper does their victim’s manicure? You wave your polished hand around like it's suddenly sprouted five extra fingers. This is definitely not normal.

And then your gaze lands on the giant, gilded mirror at the side of the room. You stumble towards it, ready to face the worst, and when you see your reflection, the realization knocks the wind right out of you.

“Fuck my life… I’m the villainess.”

Panic mode: activated. But then you pause, staring at your impossibly gorgeous reflection. No need to lose your shit just yet. You've read enough of these novel-turned-isekai tales to know the drill. It’s bad, yes, but it could be worse.

You’re not the heroine, which means less plot armor, but you are rich. Villainess rich. The kind of rich where you don’t even know how much a loaf of bread costs anymore. There’s power in that, right?

Alright, you just need to avoid the male leads like they have the dragon pox or something equally contagious and unattractive. If they even sneeze in your direction, you’re running faster than a Black Friday shopper in a sale.

Best course of action? Stick to your fiancé, Jamil Viper. He clearly liked the original villainess in the book, and you’re betting you can use that connection to survive this ridiculous plot.

Oh, and because this novel’s plotline literally killed you, you’re taking the queen of high society title back. Out of spite. It’s petty, but who cares? You're gonna be shady, throw aristocratic shade like you’re handing out party favors, and maybe casually humiliate the heroine for fun. She can't be that saintly.

But before anything else? Shopping.

You are now rich in a fantasy world, and you are not going to waste this opportunity. First order of business? Find a dress so stunning it could make a commoner drop dead on the spot. The kind of outfit that makes peasants weep and enemies tremble.

As you stride to the wardrobe, you can't help but feel a little smug. Sure, you're the villainess, but damn, you're gonna be a well-dressed one.

Your first shopping spree as a villainess. And not just that—there are maids! You stare at them wide-eyed as they begin dressing you in silks and satins, and you can’t help but think, “Holy shit, I have maids now.”

They fuss over you with a precision that can only be described as obsessive, tieing ribbons, adjusting jewelry, and brushing your hair like it’s a rare silk. You check yourself in the mirror, and honestly? Damn. The heroine's got nothing on you.

You twirl, and every inch of you screams hot and dangerous. It's like the universe is apologizing for killing you off with that god-awful book by giving you this absolute glow-up. You’re feeling unstoppable, like you could bench-press societal expectations and then strut away in heels.

But then your butler approaches, bowing as if you’re some untouchable deity. “My Lady, your fiancé, Lord Jamil Viper, has arrived to see you.”

Wait, what? Jamil is here? THE Jamil?? The only person with an ounce of brain cells in that trash fire of a novel? The one man who actually made sense? Please let him be hot.

You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself. God, I hope he looks exactly like he was described.

When the doors open, you nearly pass out on the spot. Correction. He’s hotter. Infinitely hotter. If Jamil Viper was a fire hazard in the book, in person, he’s a full-on inferno. You’re almost thankful you died just so you could see him. He greets you, and his voice? Sexier than advertised. You’ve hit the isekai jackpot.

Without a second thought, you grin, loop your arm through his, and drag him toward the carriage. You’re already imagining the two of you showing up to the next ball in matching outfits, causing hearts to break and jaws to drop. Jamil is a little confused by your sudden enthusiasm, but like a champ, he just goes along with it.

As the carriage rolls down the cobbled streets, you casually drop, “By the way, I’m done moping about being ostracized by high society. I want revenge on the heroine.”

His eyes darken, and there’s an unmistakable gleam in them. He leans back, smirking. “Good. I hate the Prince anyway. The number of problems he caused me while I was trying to rise through the ranks? I’d love nothing more than to ruin them both.”

And you? You’re in. Oh, you’re so in. Why not? Why not when Jamil Viper looks so attractive while plotting the downfall of others?

He pauses his scheming for just a second, looking at you with a rare softness. “Thank you… for recognizing my talents. I wouldn’t have had the chance to even think about insulting a prince if you weren’t by my side.”

Your heart does a little flip, and you take his hand in yours, a silent promise forming in your mind. You’re going to make the original villainess proud. You’re going to destroy the heroine.

For what this book did.

And also because, well… revenge is sexy when Jamil Viper’s involved.

You both stride into the store, ready to make a statement. But, of course, because the universe is a petty comedian, there she is—the heroine, acting like she’s never seen a price tag before. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept such an extravagant gift!” she gushes loudly enough for the entire store to hear.

Meanwhile, the Duke—Mr. "I-have-no-emotions"—is doing his signature act: standing there, looking aloof, but you can tell he’s mentally calculating how impressed everyone is supposed to be.

Jamil doesn’t even need to speak. You both share a glance, a silent conversation filled with mutual disdain. "These people suck." It's not even a question. It's a fact.

“I’ll take everything here,” you say suddenly, your voice loud enough to cut through the heroine’s overly sweet prattling. The shopkeeper’s eyes widen as they hurriedly approach, unsure if they heard you correctly.

“Everything?” they stammer.

You nod casually, like buying an entire store’s worth of clothing is a daily occurrence. “Yes, everything.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see the Duke’s facade slip for just a moment��his cold mask cracking ever so slightly as he glances at you. The heroine looks like she’s about to choke on her own words. You flash them a bright, borderline condescending smile. "Oh, I hope I didn’t interrupt something. You were saying?"

Jamil steps closer, his hand resting on the small of your back as he coolly adds, “Also, we’d like matching outfits. Something… striking.” His tone is as indifferent as ever, but you can feel the smug satisfaction radiating off him.

The heroine looks utterly flustered, her hands fidgeting as she glances between you and the Duke, who is doing his best to act unbothered. But you can tell he’s silently fuming, his pride taking a serious hit.

Jamil leans in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “A power couple move? Bold. I approve.”

You grin. “I thought we’d show them how it’s really done.”

A short while later, you and Jamil emerge from the dressing rooms in outfits that would make gods weep with envy. You glance at yourselves in the mirror, and wow. You two don’t just look good—you look devastatingly unstoppable. The kind of couple people would kill to look like in their wildest dreams.

The heroine looks on with wide eyes, clearly trying to mask her jealousy, while the Duke’s cold expression cracks further, his irritation almost palpable. He probably thought he was the only one who could pull off the whole “I’m-rich-and-powerful” vibe. Sorry, buddy. You’re just not in the same league.

Jamil gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s laced with quiet triumph. “Not bad,” he says casually, though his eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary.

As you step out of the store—victory sealed—you take Jamil’s hand without thinking, your mind already moving on to your next move. “Now,” you say, eyes focused on the road ahead, “about that revenge plan. I’m thinking we start by—”

But as you plot and scheme, you don’t notice that Jamil isn’t looking at the road. His gaze is on you—quiet, intense, and filled with something deeper.

"Whatever it is," he murmurs, "I'm in."

Power couple goals, indeed.

The ball is here, and, like any self-respecting villainess, you’re not about to let the opportunity for chaos slip by. If you’re going to be stuck in the plot of a novel, might as well make it entertaining, right?

As your maids fuss over your dress, they spill some of the hottest gossip yet. Apparently, the prince? The one who’s always preening like a peacock and acting like he’s too good for everyone?

Yeah, he got caught trying to serenade his tutor’s cat—and failed. He’s tone-deaf, and worse, the tutor is furious because the cat’s been hiding in her curtains for days, traumatized. You nearly choke on air.

“Oh, this is going to be a biblical shitstorm,” you murmur, your eyes practically sparkling as you imagine the carnage that’s about to go down tonight.

By the time you meet Jamil outside, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. And speaking of Jamil—holy hell. He’s standing by the carriage in a sleek, dark suit, looking all brooding and mysterious like he was custom-made to steal hearts.

"Wow," you say, openly staring at him. "You’re killing me right now. How are you real?"

Jamil shifts, tugging at his collar like he’s trying to downplay how good he looks. “Stop,” he mutters, his face ever-so-slightly flushed, but the tiny smile tugging at his lips gives him away.

“No, seriously,” you press, circling him with an exaggerated critical eye. “Is this what ‘stunning’ looks like in person? I need to know because I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

“You’re impossible.” He shakes his head but doesn’t make eye contact, probably because he knows he’ll crack. But he’s smiling, and that’s all the confirmation you need.

When you arrive at the ballroom, it doesn’t take long before you spot Kalim. He’s practically bouncing with excitement, waving as if you weren’t already heading his way.

"You guys look amazing!" he cheers, pulling both of you into a hug before you can protest. He’s so enthusiastic, you almost forget you have a mission. Almost.

You lower your voice conspiratorially. "Kalim, did you hear about the prince?"

He blinks. “No? What happened?”

Jamil side-eyes you like he knows exactly where this is going, but he doesn’t stop you. He’s in on this. “Well, apparently, our dear prince has been… spending some quality time trying to serenade his tutor’s cat.”

There’s a pause, then Kalim’s eyes widen in shock. “WAIT, REALLY?”

You and Jamil barely manage to suppress your laughter. Kalim just broadcasted that to half the ballroom. Mission success.

From there, you and Jamil strategically split up to mingle with the nobles, making sure the gossip spreads like wildfire. Every time someone asks, you pretend to hesitate, then whisper it to them like it’s the juiciest secret in the world. By the time the prince arrives, the entire ballroom is buzzing with whispers.

You grab two drinks and take your spot in a corner where you have the perfect view of the incoming storm. Jamil joins you, leaning casually against the wall, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. “I’d say we did well,” he says softly, as you hand him one of the drinks.

“Too well,” you say, grinning wickedly. “I can’t wait to see how this plays out.”

The prince enters, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone is staring at him like he just walked in with toilet paper stuck to his shoe. The imperial family follows behind him, sensing that something is off, but they keep up appearances, declaring the ball open.

Then, the dancing begins. And oh, the rejection. The prince approaches lady after lady, only to be turned down one by one, each with some flimsy excuse. You’re cackling into your drink at this point, nearly spilling it as you watch the absolute carnage unfold.

And then—oh, this is the best part—the heroine finally arrives, blissfully unaware of the prince’s latest scandal. She’s practically glowing as the prince, desperate and clearly not understanding the situation, asks her to dance. She accepts with a delighted smile, preening at all the attention she thinks they’re getting.

The whispers intensify.

Jamil watches, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I’m impressed," he murmurs. "That spread faster than I expected."

"Never underestimate the power of pettiness," you reply, clinking your glasses together.

Across the room, the king’s aide is whispering something to him, and the poor man looks like he’s just aged ten years. He shoots a glance at the prince and then at the heroine, his expression screaming “I can’t believe I have to deal with this.”

Then comes the final nail in the coffin. After the dance, a group of younger noblewomen approaches the heroine, and she’s clearly expecting them to fawn over her for dancing with the prince. But instead, they absolutely rip into her. “How could you dance with him after what he did?” one of them demands, while another makes a snide comment about the cat.

The heroine, bless her heart, has no idea what they’re talking about and stumbles over her words, trying to defend herself. But she just makes it worse. Within minutes, she’s in tears, running from the ballroom in a dramatic scene worthy of an award.

The Duke—her Duke—chases after her, looking like he’s reconsidering all his life choices.

You’re laughing so hard now that you’re practically leaning on Jamil for support. "This is better than I could’ve ever hoped for," you gasp, wiping away a tear.

Jamil chuckles softly, his gaze focused entirely on you. “Glad you’re having fun.”

“Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” you reply between giggles, clutching his arm. "But seriously, this is gold!"

Jamil smiles, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he watches you. "Whatever you want to do, I’m in." His voice is quiet, but there’s a sincerity in it that makes your heart skip a beat.

And you know, with him by your side, this is only the beginning.

The quiet clatter of quills and the shuffle of paper fill the room as you and Jamil work side by side. It's supposed to be a normal afternoon—just the two of you getting through the absolutely thrilling task of making plans to merge your estates after your marriage.

Riveting stuff. But there’s a certain coziness to it, like you’ve finally settled into this life together. A faint smile tugs at your lips as you glance at Jamil, whose attention is currently fixed on a particularly dense contract.

He glances up, noticing your stare. “Do you want some tea?” he asks casually, already reaching for the bell to summon the butler.

You nod, and in moments, the butler arrives, bowing politely before leaving to retrieve the tea. But as the tray comes in, Jamil pauses, scanning the selection like he’s some kind of beverage connoisseur. He frowns—frowns—and turns to the butler. “Get the other blend. The one she likes."

The butler stutters for a second, then hurries off to fix the apparent blasphemy of tea serving. You’re too amused to even process how sweet the whole thing is.

“Did you really just send him back to get another blend?”

Jamil shrugs, not meeting your eyes, focused instead on stirring the exact amount of sugar and milk you always put in your cup. “You prefer it this way,” he says, his tone nonchalant, but there’s a softness to his expression.

And you’re just sitting there, heart doing weird flips because—he noticed. He’s been watching you, memorizing the tiny details like how you take your tea. Your chest warms as you realize just how deeply he pays attention to you, even in the most mundane things.

“You’re so—” you start, but then you stop yourself, realizing you’re dangerously close to getting all gooey and sappy. “Ridiculous. You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He shoots you a deadpan look, but the corners of his lips twitch upward. “You’re welcome.”

You laugh, sipping the tea he prepared exactly how you like it, the moment stretching out in peaceful harmony. That is until—

THUD.

You nearly spill your tea as Jamil suddenly launches himself away from his desk, eyes wide in utter horror, looking as though someone just told him he’s been forced to join a Kalim-led dance troupe.

“What—what happened?” you ask, a little alarmed.

He doesn’t answer, instead standing stiffly a good five feet from his chair, eyes fixated on something on the floor. You glance over, curious, and there it is—a massive spider, just chilling on his desk like it’s there to collect taxes.

You stare. He stares. The spider doesn’t move, but the tension in the room could cut steel.

"That thing could eat me," Jamil mutters under his breath, still rooted to the spot like a cat who just saw a cucumber.

You take a deep breath, rolling up your sleeves with all the confidence of someone who has faced worse, like nobles who talk about land taxes at dinner parties. “Alright, let’s do this,” you mumble to yourself.

Grabbing a piece of paper, you march toward the eight-legged horror with all the grace of someone about to tackle a dragon. There’s no elegance, no finesse. You scoop up the spider—your hands a bit shaky—and march over to the window, tossing it outside with a not-so-dignified “Go in peace, demon.”

There’s a beat of silence as you wipe your brow, feeling like you’ve just saved the world. When you turn around, Jamil is staring at you like you’ve just descended from the heavens, all in slow motion, with angelic choir music playing in the background.

“What?” you ask, still catching your breath.

“I was going to handle it,” he says, but the way his voice wavers betrays the fact that he absolutely was not. He glances away, still avoiding the spot where the spider used to be.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you were. I bet you were gonna make friends with it too.”

He opens his mouth to argue but then just chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”

You walk over and bump his shoulder lightly. “And you’re lucky to have me. Spider exterminator extraordinaire.”

Jamil finally lets out a real laugh, the sound filling the room in a way that feels warm and right. When you both settle back into your paperwork, there’s an undeniable sense of something more growing between you, a feeling that neither of you says out loud, but is there nonetheless.

You look over at him again, your heart feeling too big for your chest. He meets your gaze and smiles, the unspoken affection hanging between you like a comfortable silence. Whatever’s coming next in your future, you know one thing for sure—there’s no one you’d rather handle paperwork (or spiders) with than him.

It was a fine day for chaos, and you had a brilliant, absolutely ridiculous idea: a dance competition. The heroine was boasting loudly again, this time about her “dazzling” ballroom skills, fluttering around like a pigeon trying to impress the Duke. You leaned over to Jamil, raising a brow.

“I bet I can make her regret that,” you whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Jamil sighed, eyes flicking over to the heroine, who was twirling like she was the queen of the ball already. “You really want to stir this up?” he asked, his voice dripping with his usual calm exasperation.

“Absolutely. It’ll be hilarious,” you said with a grin. “Just trust me.”

“Those are usually your most dangerous words,” he muttered, but the little twitch at the corner of his lips told you he was more than ready to see how this would play out.

You sauntered up to the heroine, who was mid-spin, nearly knocking over a servant carrying a tray of wine glasses. “Oh my, such grace!” you exclaimed, voice layered with just the right amount of false admiration. “You must be the best dancer here. How about we make it a little more interesting?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, clearly sensing a trap but too vain to back down. “What are you proposing?” she asked, puffing up like a puffin in a tutu.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, just a little friendly dance-off. You, me, the floor. We’ll let the crowd decide who’s the real star of the ball.”

The Duke, standing behind her, snorted, clearly thinking there was no way his precious heroine could lose. You could practically hear his thoughts: What could go wrong?

Jamil, now standing at the edge of the growing crowd, looked at you with an expression that screamed Why are you like this? You shot him a quick wink.

The heroine smiled smugly, already envisioning her inevitable triumph. “Fine,” she declared, loud enough for the entire ballroom to hear. “But don’t cry when you lose.”

Oh, sweetheart, you thought, grinning like a Cheshire cat. You have no idea what’s coming.

The music swelled. The crowd parted, forming a perfect circle around the two of you. The heroine began her routine, performing a series of twirls and steps that were technically fine but lacked any real flair. She was all stiff arms and forced elegance, like a bird trying to pretend it was an elegant swan but failing spectacularly.

“Wow, she’s… uh, something,” you heard Jamil mutter from the sidelines, barely able to contain his laughter.

When it was your turn, you decided to dial it up to eleven. You started off slow, a simple waltz that quickly escalated into an absurd series of moves that defied both logic and physics.

At one point, you grabbed a nearby tablecloth, twirling it like a cape as if you were part ballroom dancer, part magician. The crowd was gasping and laughing all at once. You even threw in a couple of exaggerated backflips—just for dramatic effect, of course.

Jamil, still trying to remain composed, was leaning against a pillar, shaking his head with a mix of pride and disbelief. “This is insane,” he muttered, but you caught the faintest smile playing at his lips. He was definitely entertained.

The finale? You did a sliding split across the marble floor, popping up dramatically at the end to a round of thunderous applause. The heroine, meanwhile, looked like she had swallowed a lemon. Her face was pale, and her jaw had dropped halfway through your performance and never quite recovered.

“Not bad for a warm-up,” you said casually, dusting off your sleeves. “Want to go again?”

The heroine stammered something unintelligible, while the Duke shot you both a venomous glare. You, however, were far too busy basking in the crowd’s cheers to care.

Jamil approached, his expression unreadable as he handed you a glass of wine. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, though there was a mirth in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I know,” you replied with a smirk, taking the glass from him. “But you love it.”

He let out a small, reluctant chuckle. “Unfortunately.”

As you took a sip, the heroine stormed off, dragging the Duke behind her, muttering something about “cheating” and “unfair advantages.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You realize you’ve just made yourself the villain of the entire evening, right?” Jamil remarked, glancing around at the nobles, who were still talking animatedly about your performance.

“Good,” you replied, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “Villains always have more fun.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow. “And what are you planning to do next?”

You gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll challenge her to a sword fight next?”

Jamil’s eyes widened. “Please don’t.”

You just laughed, leaning into him. “Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He sighed but didn’t push you away, clearly resigned to whatever madness you had planned next. As the two of you walked away from the scene, hand-in-hand, the nobles whispered behind you, wondering just how deep your relationship ran, how formidable of a pair you truly were.

But all Jamil cared about in that moment was that you were smiling beside him, radiating with confidence and joy. He didn’t care if the heroine hated you or if the Duke was sulking somewhere in the corner. As long as he had you, the rest of the world could fall into chaos.

And honestly, with you around, it probably would.

You gave Jamil a quick glance, noticing the soft, adoring look in his eyes, and nudged him playfully. “Hey, stop looking at me like I’m your entire world.”

“Too late,” he shot back, the smallest smile on his lips.

“Ugh,” you groaned dramatically, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he added, leaning in just a little closer, “you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, taking his hand. “Let’s go cause more trouble.”

The plan had been perfectly crafted. You and Jamil had spent hours scheming, laughing at the thought of humiliating the Duke during the archery and horseback competition.

Your excitement grew with every passing minute as you imagined his arrogant face faltering. But when the Duke not only kept his composure but nailed each target while galloping on horseback, you felt your competitive spirit surge.

There was no way you were going to let him win. Not today.

So, of course, you went all in—because why wouldn’t you? Leaning into your impulsive nature, you urged your horse into a full-speed sprint, adrenaline surging through your veins.

And then, because you’re apparently half-crazy, you decided standing on your saddle while your horse bolted forward would be the best course of action.

The world slowed as you drew your bow, the wind whipping through your hair. You could hear the crowd’s gasps, see the Duke's smug expression turning into something more surprised, and feel Jamil's tense gaze on you. In that moment, you released the arrow.

Bullseye.

The crowd erupted into shock and awe, but you were too busy grinning like a complete idiot to care. You dismounted with all the grace of someone who just pulled off a dangerous trick, your steps light as you practically skipped over to Jamil.

"Did you see that?" you beamed, heart still racing. "I totally nailed it—"

But instead of matching your excitement, Jamil’s expression was stormy. His usually composed features were twisted in a way you hadn’t seen before—part fear, part anger, and all worry. Without warning, he grabbed your shoulders, his fingers digging in just a little too tight.

"What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was sharp, laced with panic. “Are you out of your mind? You could’ve gotten hurt, or worse!”

You blinked, surprised. “I… I was trying to win?"

“Trying to win?! You were trying to break your neck!” His grip tightened as he almost shook you, frustration evident in every word. “That wasn’t worth it. Nothing is worth risking your life like that!”

It dawned on you then that he wasn’t just mad—he was terrified. You reached up slowly, cupping his face with both hands, and his expression softened, though the storm in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the wind knocked out of you by just how much he cared. “I got carried away. But hey—” You grinned a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I looked cool, right?”

Jamil groaned, exasperated, but the corners of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, though his grip on your shoulders relaxed. His forehead dropped against yours, and for a moment, the world around you melted away. It was just the two of you, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.

“I know,” you whispered back, closing your eyes. “But you love me for it.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, his hands slid down to your arms, his touch lingering as if grounding himself after the scare. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, his breath steadying as he leaned into you. It was such a sweet, unspoken moment, and you felt your heart swell.

All around you, whispers started to spread like wildfire among the nobles.

"Oh, they're perfect together."

“They’re like something out of a romance novel.”

Meanwhile, the Duke—who had watched the whole display—stood fuming, while the heroine, eyes narrowed, looked like she was seconds away from throwing a tantrum. But you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way Jamil was holding onto you, as if letting go wasn’t an option.

“Let’s go,” Jamil finally whispered, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was softer now, more relaxed, though still tinged with concern. “No more dangerous tricks. Promise me.”

You smiled softly and nodded. “No more. I promise.”

He huffed, clearly not entirely convinced, but he let it go. You leaned against him for a moment, basking in the warmth of his presence, completely oblivious to the fact that half the noble court was watching the two of you with admiration—or that the other half was stewing in jealousy.

As you both walked away, hand in hand, it was clear that whatever plan you and Jamil had originally devised, the real victory was this: him, you, and the world falling away as the two of you found something far more precious than winning a competition.

The nobleman’s sneer was so potent you could practically taste it in the air. “Ah, yes,” he drawled, looking down his nose at Jamil. “Nouveau riche, how quaint. No matter how much money you accumulate, you’ll never have the refinement or bloodline of true nobility.”

Jamil stood there, bored as ever, giving the man about as much attention as one would to a pesky fly. But you? You were vibrating with the sheer intensity of your rage. And then you heard it—her.

The heroine chimed in, her voice drenched in faux sincerity. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it? The Duke has been managing the North so well—keeping everything running smoothly for years. Not everyone has the skills required for such a delicate task.”

Your eye twitched. Oh no. Oh no.

Jamil had been single-handedly keeping the kingdom’s economy afloat, using his brilliance to ensure food and resources flowed into the North during the harsh winters. He had done more in the span of a few years than these fools had done in their entire blood-soaked lineages. And this… this… buffoon had the nerve to look down on him?

The Duke, sensing the incoming storm, began discreetly tugging at the heroine’s sleeve, but she was as oblivious as ever. The prince, bless his spineless little heart, looked like he was ready to faint from second-hand embarrassment.

And that was your breaking point.

You stepped forward, a smile that could only be described as a harbinger of doom plastered across your face. “Oh, dear,” you cooed, your voice as sweet as poison. “Did I hear you correctly? You think the Duke is managing the North?”

The heroine blinked, clearly not catching the danger. “Well, of course! He’s—”

“Managing to exist in the North without Jamil’s trade routes, maybe,” you interrupted sharply, turning your gaze to the Duke, who now looked like he wanted to crawl into the nearest hole. “You should be on your knees, thanking Jamil for saving your people from starvation every winter. But no, please, continue on about how ‘delicate’ your situation is. Maybe you’ll convince yourself one day.”

“How dare you,” you snapped, your voice rising as you turned to the heroine. “And you. Sitting here, all wide-eyed and clueless, nodding along like you understand the gravity of the situation. You wouldn’t last a week managing a pantry, let alone a region.”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply before turning your sights on the nobleman. “And you,” you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped closer, “talking down to Jamil like you’ve ever lifted a finger to actually do something useful. Do you think your bloodline is going to rescue you when your estate crumbles from your own incompetence? If you spent half as much time working on something productive instead of sneering at people better than you, maybe you wouldn’t be such a leech on society.”

The nobleman’s face went red with anger, but before he could sputter a reply, you had already turned to the prince.

“And as for you,” you said, fixing him with a look of pure disdain. “What exactly is your contribution to this little scene, hm? Standing there, wringing your hands like a wet sponge. Do you have any idea what Jamil has done for your kingdom, or are you too busy polishing your tiara to notice?”

The prince opened his mouth, but no sound came out. It was glorious.

You turned back to Jamil, who was watching you with an amused but unreadable expression. “We’re done here,” you said, grabbing his arm and marching out of the room without a backward glance.

The carriage ride back was thick with silence, the weight of your outburst pressing down on you. Jamil hadn’t said a word, but you could feel his eyes on you, sharp and calculating. You kept your gaze fixed on your hands, guilt creeping up your spine.

“I— I didn’t mean to make it look like you couldn’t defend yourself,” you started, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a rush. “I just couldn’t stand the way they were talking about you—”

Before you could finish, Jamil’s hand gently tilted your chin up, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative—no, it was a kiss that made your heart race and your mind go blank.

When he pulled away, you were breathless. “I found it hot,” he murmured, smirking.

You blinked, utterly thrown off by the confession. “What?”

He kissed you again, slower this time, and when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky laugh, still trying to process everything. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice full of emotion.

Jamil’s eyes softened, and without another word, Jamil swept you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly in a bridal carry as the carriage pulled up to your manor. He carried you inside, past the stunned servants, and straight to the bedroom, where the door closed with a soft click behind you.

As he laid you gently on the bed, you could only smile up at him, the weight of everything melting away in the warmth of his gaze.

And for once, the world beyond the two of you didn’t matter at all.

The scandal erupted at the royal ball like a badly timed burp during a quiet opera.

The heroine—bless her, she meant well, but her foot was permanently lodged in her mouth—had done the unthinkable. You and Jamil watched from across the ballroom as she stood before the fae delegation, attempting to “honor” their centuries-old traditions.

But instead of the elegant gesture of goodwill she was supposed to offer, she made a noise that can only be described as an awkward impersonation of a dying goose and proceeded to bow backwards.

That alone wasn’t even the worst part.

“Oh no,” Jamil whispered under his breath, eyes wide with disbelief as he took in the scene. “She’s about to—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the heroine reached into her dress and produced… a bouquet of mushrooms. Not just any mushrooms. The fae’s sacred mushrooms, rumored to be foraged under the light of a blood moon and infused with mystical properties.

She shoved them at the fae emissary like a child offering wilted flowers to a stranger, and then—oh gods, why—she patted his head.

Dead silence fell across the ballroom.

The emissary, who had remained calm despite the bowing fiasco, now stared down at the mushrooms with a look of profound insult and horror. His fellow fae were vibrating, their wings fluttering ominously, as though on the verge of launching an interdimensional war over a bouquet of fungi.

You snorted, barely containing your laughter. “She’s done it now.”

Jamil, ever the diplomat, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you know what those mushrooms symbolize to the fae?”

“No, but I’m assuming it’s not ‘Congratulations on your promotion’ or ‘Get well soon’?”

“Death,” Jamil muttered, casting a glance at you that screamed please don’t laugh. “She just handed them a bouquet that says, ‘I wish for your demise and the utter destruction of your family line.’”

At that, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. A small laugh escaped before you slapped your hand over your mouth, trying—and failing—to keep your composure. Jamil shot you a warning glare, but even he looked like he might break. The absurdity of it all was too much.

The fae emissary spoke, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “This is an outrage. We demand recompense for this offense.”

The king and prince rushed over, trying to smooth things over with promises of reparations, apologies, anything to keep the fae from turning the court into a smoking crater. But the damage was done. The fae delegation was livid, and rightfully so. There were whispers of broken treaties, wars brewing, diplomatic chaos that would take decades to resolve.

And who did they turn to for help?

You and Jamil, of course.

Later that evening, as you lounged comfortably in your private manor, feet propped up on an ottoman, there was a frantic knock on the door. You exchanged a look with Jamil, who was reclining next to you, casually sipping his tea as though the kingdom wasn’t on the brink of a magical apocalypse.

The door swung open, and the king, the prince, and a handful of stressed-out nobles barged in, their faces pale with desperation.

“You two!” the prince bellowed, his voice barely keeping it together. “You’ve dealt with the fae before! Fix this!”

Jamil didn’t even look up from his tea. “No.”

The prince blinked. “Excuse me?”

Jamil sipped again, then casually set his cup down on the table. “I said no. I’m done. We’re done.”

You nodded, not even bothering to hide your amusement. “I think the heroine has this under control. She’s doing great.”

“She insulted the fae. She gave them a bouquet of death mushrooms!” the prince cried, waving his arms dramatically like a man in the throes of a panic-induced breakdown. “They’re going to declare war!”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you quipped, grinning.

The king, who had remained uncharacteristically silent, took a step forward, his eyes pleading. “Please, for the sake of the kingdom…”

Jamil sighed deeply, finally turning his attention to the royal mess in your doorway. “We’ve dealt with more than enough idiocy for one lifetime. How about this? You let the heroine finish what she started. If she can bungle her way into this disaster, surely she can find a way out.”

The prince spluttered, incredulous. “But you—”

“Nope,” you interrupted, standing up and stretching lazily. “We’re officially on vacation. Jamil, pack the bags.”

Jamil stood with a casual grace that belied the utter chaos unfolding behind him. “Already done.”

The king’s jaw dropped. “Vacation?! Now?! The kingdom is on the verge of collapse!”

You grabbed your coat and slung it over your shoulder with a smirk. “Well then, I’d suggest you start learning how to negotiate with the fae. Maybe start by not giving them death mushrooms.”

With that, you and Jamil strolled out of the manor, leaving the baffled royals standing in your doorway like confused children. The sound of the prince’s sputtering protests faded behind you as you made your way down the garden path, the night air cool and refreshing against your skin.

Jamil chuckled beside you, his hand slipping into yours as you walked. “Do you think they’ll manage?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you said with a laugh. “But we deserve this. Let them figure it out for once.”

“And maybe…” you paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Maybe we should make it official while we’re at it.”

Jamil stopped in his tracks, turning to look at you, his brows lifting in surprise. “You mean… get married?”

You smiled, leaning into him. “Why not? We’ll be far away from prying eyes, just the two of us, in the summer hours. It sounds perfect.”

For a moment, the world stood still. Then Jamil’s lips curved into the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I think that sounds perfect too.”

And so, you and Jamil left the court and its catastrophes behind, fleeing to the countryside like two fugitives on the run from royal idiocy. The villa you’d chosen was perfect—nestled in the hills, far away from the fae, the heroine, and the ridiculous drama that followed her like a bad smell.

The first morning, as you lay in bed next to Jamil, sunlight streaming through the open windows, he turned to you with a grin.

“So, what now? Do we just… hide out here forever?”

You shrugged, pulling him closer. “Why not? We can start a goat farm. I’ll name all the goats after the people we hate.”

Jamil laughed, burying his face in your neck. “A herd of royal goats. Perfect.”

And somewhere, in the distance, the kingdom probably crumbled. The heroine probably insulted more magical creatures. But for once, it wasn’t your problem.

You and Jamil had found peace in the countryside.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d throw a wedding in between all the goat naming.

The days that followed were blissfully quiet, each one blending into the next in a haze of sun-soaked afternoons and peaceful nights. You and Jamil fell into an easy rhythm—waking with the sun, wandering through the countryside, sharing meals beneath the open sky. It was simple, and that simplicity was a balm to both your souls.

The court sent letters, of course—pleading, begging for your return. But each one went unanswered. The Fae situation had likely escalated, the heroine’s blunder growing more disastrous by the day, but it wasn’t your problem anymore. Let them sort out the mess. You and Jamil had something far more important now—a life of your own making.

One evening, as you sat together on the porch of the villa, watching the sunset, Jamil leaned over and whispered, “Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

You laughed softly, leaning into him. “That we’re never coming back?”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes.”

“They’ll figure it out eventually,” you said, your voice light, but filled with certainty. “But by then, we’ll be long gone.”

And you were. Far from the court, from the games of power and politics, from the endless demands and expectations. You had found your own path, one where the only thing that mattered was each other.

In the end, the kingdom survived. The heroine, somehow, managed to blunder her way through the Fae negotiations, though the details remained hazy in the few letters you received from old acquaintances. The Duke, as always, remained by her side, a constant fixture in a world you no longer had to care about.

But as for you and Jamil? You stayed in the countryside, living in the warmth of each day, far from the reach of courtly drama. And when the summer finally faded into autumn, you knew, without a doubt, that you had made the right choice.

Together, you had built a life out of love, quiet and unassuming, but richer than anything the court could have ever offered. And in the end, that was more than enough

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

The next one is Floyd!

[gancegancerevo]

Rides to Lake Silberneherze Thoughts

It was great. The second major visit to Kjerag sees us return three years after the previous event to see how the nation has built itself up after the Saintess reforms the political system of Kjerag and accepts the Silverash clan’s plans to open the country to outsiders.

Degenbrecher is the main selling point of the event in my opinion and damn did they work hard to make her appealing. She’s not only very strong, very skilled, very pretty, and a lot less long-winded than the other politicians, she’s also got her own story. It’s quite beautiful to see someone immigrate to a new country and have it just be a story of finding a home you can settle with. She’s the kind of character who’s physically strong enough to survive hardship. And in a sense, she is emotionally strong as she does not hold any grudges against her old nations. Probably in part because she’s beaten up the ones she needs to and let go of what she doesn’t need. She’s very much her own person and she herself has decided she wants to stay in Kjerag as one of its people. Makes you think about all the immigrants who makes their homes in new countries and how that experience is unique to them.

Leto was adorable in this event. The way she takes everybody she passes by and makes them her friends is hilarious and wonderful. It’s also great that they made her a competent field operator. She was able to sense and threaten a Trillby Asher all by herself even if that went awry. She also knew when to call up her superiors when she needed help.

One of the best parts about her arc here is how they turn the classic father-daughter reunion on its head. Because for one, Tatyova, her mother, is alive and well. And seems to be perfectly capable of continuing to care for Leto. Leto ultimately doesn’t care about her father, as she should. Arctosz’s decision to make his family leave for political safety makes it obvious that he knows nothing about the wider world. His privileged upbringing means he has no idea about how others would treat a single mother and what it means for a child to grow up without a father. The thing that really brings it into perspective for me is the attack on Chernobog. If you don’t know how bad it was, read the Ursus Student Group side stories. It makes every excuse Arctosz make seem extra moronic. This story takes the “looking for a long lost father” trope and makes it an ode to all the mothers who had to deal with single-parenthood themselves.

Harold is quite interesting. He’s your classic bumbling high-spirited old man except he’s also a Victorian military officer. Like Degenbrecher, he’s someone who also adjusts well to Kjerag life finding work as a veterinarian and doing old man things. In spite of this, he remains loyal to Victoria and when told that he would need to attack the people he’s lived with for months, he ultimately sides with his country. This is an interesting contrast to bring in this story. About how some people would throw away their old countries while others would remain loyal. Though overall, he was just fun to watch. Especially when paired with Leto or others who humor him.

By far my favorite part of visiting Kjerag is seeing the Saintess and Enya and Kjarr do not disappoint.

Before I gush about yuri though, I should say I love how Enya, and especially her relationship with  Enciodes has evolved. She’s much more active in the goings-on of the nation and is willing to use the Saintess as a state official rather than just a ceremonial position. She and Enciodes managed to separate their personal lives from their work in nation-building and it’s so interesting to see it play out. Enya inserting herself when Enciodes tries to avoid more direct interactions. The whole banquet scene with Harold. It was great especially when they both admit that the Head of the Silverash clan and the Saintess have a similar vision and plan for Kjerag’s development and both go silent when others ask about the relationship between Enya and Enciodes Silverash as siblings.

Enya and Kjarr have to be the most wife and wife coded characters I’ve seen in Arknights so far. Like a pair well into their golden years, they have a mutual respect and trust of one another while still disagreeing on some issues. There’s also that sense of both of them playing an active role in the relationship rather than the usual one stays at home and one works sort of dynamic. I especially like when Kjarr is like “babe, are you sure I shouldn’t use my god powers?” and Enya keeps insisting that they can’t rely on god to fix things for them. And of course the eternal pestering of Kjarr for a statue adjustment. If she can’t ask Enya for it, she’ll let Degenbrecher and the Trillby Asher do it. I always love Enya and Kjarr and this has cemented my favorite Kjerag dynamic even more.

Lastly, I really appreciate the way they included the Doctor this time. It’s not the take control of a situation you’ve only been aware of for a few hours. Instead, they made reasonable assumptions about what others are plotting and taking a few small steps to push pieces into the best place possible. Kinda like how they can’t rely on Kjeragandr, they also can’t rely on the Doctor of Rhodes but that doesn’t mean either of them can’t do one small move themselves.

P.S. What do you mean Kjerag has a battleship under Lake Silberneherze. Though it might be more shocking that Enciodes expressed approval of Sciurus before Ratatos did AND that Ratatos liked Sciurus naming the battleship Walnut to mess with her kids.

[moonlilith]

Lunar Tears, two

𐦍☾

“The moon illuminated the area with its faint light, a quiet testament to their entwined fates. With a secret weighing heavily on her, she stood before Alucard, her heart a battleground of want and terror. Torn between love and sorrow that reverberated for eons, she looked into his eyes for clarification and forgiveness. However, the past hovered between them like a ghost, threatening to devour their brittle optimism.”

(Or, in addition to the initial trio, the prophecy has one additional fated hero. You are that hero. A saintess that the Church is pursuing.)

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader // alucard (castlevania) x (f) oc

genre: angst, romance, slow burn,

a/n : On ao3 there is a name for plot reasons but here i decided to use “you” as more general but “you” have a woman figure. I tried to make it seems like an alucard x reader as possible. However the reader insert has a set personality and powers. to answer any questions; it was meant to be a reader story but personally i hate the usage of y/n. The more i write y/n the more it becomes a name itself.

𐦍  Chapters: check masterlist  ☾  Check AO3

Chapter Two: Ashes of Faith 

A faint, almost ethereal echo of residual magic throbbed through the air. Closed-eyed, Sypha held out a hand, palm up, as though grasping something intangible.  She knitted her brow. She whispered, "She passed through here," her voice barely heard above the sound of the leaves rustling.  However, the trail... Wispy.  similar to smoke in the wind. 

Trevor knelt and traced the faint ridges in the soft ground with his fingers. “A snapped twig here, a cuff mark there.” He grunted. "She’s trying to cover her tracks. Clever Girl.  “She almost seems to be floating. Here, I assumed finding the saintess would be easy, sitting in one of the various churches. Why is a mere saintess going out into the woods like this?” He sniffed the air, his hands up pausing his companions in their tracks, a habit honed from years of tracking beasts.  “There’s…something else.  Night Creatures.” 

Alucard took a deep breath after concluding his survey over the treetops. “I can smell her,” Trevor quirked a brow, “Not her actual aroma, but the lingering effects of her enchantment. It’s there but it’s dim. Like moonlight on dew.”

"Moonlight on dew," Trevor said again, his tone somewhat amused. "You're getting poetic in your old age, Alucard." 

Ignoring him, Alucard concentrated on the enchanted aroma. Alucard stood apart; his gaze focused on the deep forest ahead. He inhaled deeply and his demeanour changed from stoic to something else.  Recognition?  He cocked his head slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. "Well, there's an old settlement constructed around an abandoned chapel; she must have sought refuge or cared for the wounded. We are heading north."

And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you let yourself breathe.  The days in Orlin passed with a lovely pace.  You awoke with the sun, assisting the people with their daily work, your hands finding familiar comfort in the dirt, tending crops and caring for cattle.  You sat with the kids, their laughing a melody that chased away the darkness in your heart, telling them simple songs and stories about the moon and stars. 

In the evenings, you gathered with the villagers around the crackling fire, exchanging stories and laughter, the warmth of their company melting the frigid loneliness that had clung to you for so long. However, the nagging thought that this time will not endure is always present in your mind. Nothing lasts in your life. Nothing remains the same. 

The people, with their simple faith and open hearts, looked past the Church's labels.  They saw a woman whose touch could heal wounds and calm restless spirits, not a heretic.  They offered you not only a place to stay but also their understanding after noticing your fatigue and the intense anguish in your eyes. One evening, the village elder informed her, "You bear a heavy load, child."  "But you don't have to carry it alone." 

You looked at her, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.  No one had ever spoken to you like that, with such genuine concern, without the veiled expectations of the Church.  "I'm not meant for this," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  "I'm not meant for kindness, for community.  I bring misfortune, I—" 

The older intervened, "Hush, child," in a soft yet stern voice.  "You provide light and healing.  The darkness should not persuade you otherwise." You wanted to think she was sincere.  In order to forget the atrocities, you had seen and the suffering you were carrying, you wanted to stay and immerse yourself in the village's warmth.  However, the worry was always there, muttering cautions in your ear. 

You were aware that the Church would keep looking for you until they did.  And you couldn't, wouldn't, jeopardise the security of these generous people who had taken you in.  You have witnessed the fate of those who dared to provide your assistance and those who dared to disobey the Church.  You'd heard the cries, smelt the charred flesh, and seen the flames. You cannot let them take innocent again. Not this time. 

You were startled out of your reverie by the watchman's frenzied cries, "The Church! They're coming!" shattered the brittle haven you had discovered in Orlin as it reverberated through the quiet night.  The villagers felt a surge of anxiety, yet they looked at you with eyes that were a mix of defiance and terror.  You felt a strong sense of protection as you witnessed their faith in you and their readiness to keep you safe. 

However, it was a desperation-infused protectiveness.  You were aware of the Church's power.  You were aware that the knights' armour and their zeal would be too strong for the villagers' crude implements and unshakeable faith. 

"We will defend you, Saintess," the village elder said, her voice trembling but resolute.  "We will not let them take you." 

Another sight, a recollection from a lifetime ago, appeared before you as you closed your eyes.  The sun shone on the magnificent church, illuminating the kneeling audience with a rainbow of hues from its stained-glass windows.  The feeling of belonging, the singing of your name, the warmth of their affection...  You had been their Moonlit miracle, their Saintess, a beacon of healing and hope.  The same voices that had praised you were now demanding your blood and calling you a witch and a heretic. 

The recollection faded like a dying ember as you opened your eyes.  The current situation was harsh and merciless.  With their torches gleaming off polished steel like predatory eyes in the darkness, the knights were drawing near.  You were forced to choose.  Either stay and fight, putting these defenceless villagers' lives in danger, or run away and subject them to the Church's wrath. "No," you answered firmly, even though her throat was shaking.  "You can't battle them.  All you'll be doing is entering a death trap.  I refuse to allow that to occur.” 

"But—" 

"No," you repeated, your voice rising. "I will face them alone. It is my burden, not yours. You have shown me kindness; you have sheltered me. That is more than I could have ever asked for. But I cannot let you pay the price for my sins." 

You stumbled on your feet as a wave of vertigo swept over you. Your ear was being whispered with sneaky doubts as the curse tightened its hold. It growled, You're weak. You're terrified. It's going to kill you. The fear persisted like a leaden weight in your stomach, even if you forced the notion away. The idea of forgetting was dreadful. Not right now. Not after...You inhaled deeply, strengthening your determination. You have to resist letting fear rule you. You needed to be strong for both you and the villagers. You had to face your mortality in order to face the Church. However, how?  How am I going to defeat them all?   

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "For everything." 

You exchanged a silent vow with the elder as you locked eyes for the final time.  Then, leaving behind the villagers' anguished cries and the warmth of the only refuge you had ever known, you turned and walked towards the village's edge, towards the approaching torches and the sound of marching feet.  The cool night air contrasted sharply with the fire's warmth as you stopped at the edge of the trees. 

Your heart thumping in your chest, you thought, this is it .  With the dim glow of the lamplight acting as a beacon in the darkness, you took one final glance back at the village.  Then you moved into the darkness, the rustling leaves engulfing your steps. 

Your footsteps were heavy as you left behind your short-lived hope. The clearing was a ballet of light and shade as the torches flashed. The smell of damp ground and pine, along with the metallic tang of blood, lingered heavy in the air. Bishop Valen stood in front of you, a mask of rage covering his face. But memories flashed through your mind as you gazed at him. You viewed him as the guy who believed in and admired you as the Saintess, not as a hateful bishop. You remember the day you questioned the church's rulings over the Targovishte burning. 

And his words still linger, "You were my greatest disappointment," Valen spat, his words cutting deeper than his blade.  "You betrayed my trust; you turned your back on the light." 

"And tonight, your tricks end here, heretic," he hissed, his palm tightening on his sword's hilt. You swayed too much, hoping he'd alter his mind, your breath rushing out in jagged gasps. The wound in your side throbbed, and the curse sapped your vitality. You knew you wouldn't win a direct fight. You needed to be smarter.

Valen leaped, his blade a flurry of steel. You dodged, utilising a nearby tree as cover. You conjured a swarm of lunar moths in an attempt to distract him, but they flickered and died, a weak shadow of your former might. "Your magic is failing you, child," Valen snarled, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. He pressed his attack, causing you to repeatedly retreat. 

A searing pain ran through your arm. Valen's sword grazed you, causing a deep cut. You yelled out, tripping and your eyesight blurred. "Remember the screams of those witches?" Valen taunted, his voice full of hate. "Will you scream like they did?" Your heart clenched. You pushed the discomfort aside and concentrated on the fight. You could not afford to lose control. But Valen was unrelenting. He pressed his advantage, and his strikes became more ferocious. You were cornered with your back against a rocky outcrop. You were stuck. Valen raised his sword, ready to strike the killing stroke.

"May the Gods above forgive our sins for taking you," 

ROAR.  

A guttural shriek rang across the trees. They emerged from the shadows, gaunt beings with skin stretched taut over bone and eyes full of evil hunger. The knights yelled in terror, and their ranks broke as the beasts struck. You were aware of your vulnerability in the midst of the pandemonium. Injured, tired, and facing a new threat. You were caught between the Church and the Night Creatures. You stumbled back, grabbing the opportunity to escape. You couldn't fight everyone. But your legs were leaden, and your breath was ragged. The curse was a vice around your heart that sapped your strength. 

The gnarled branches clawed at your cloak as you rushed through the deadwood woodland. The beasts followed you relentlessly, their snarls booming through the forest. One of them lunged, raking its claws against your arm. You shouted out, stumbled, and fell to your knees. No, not like this.

The creatures were everywhere, their foetid breath scorching across your face. You were stuck, backed up against a collapsing stone wall. Their snarls rang in your ears like a symphony of nightmares. You lashed out weakly, your assaults scarcely registering on their thick hides. Your movements were slow, and your vision blurred.  Almost there, you thought, your lungs burning. Almost to the edge of the woods…

Then you saw them. 

The silhouettes of three people against the moonlit sky. More enemies. Your heart fell apart. You had stumbled into another nightmare after escaping the first one. Fear tore at your throat. You needed to leave. “Please, what is going on with my luck? Three encounters in a night are just vile God.”  

You lunged without thinking. Your silver blade, your lone weapon, glittered in the moonlight as you aimed for the nearest figure, a woman with a cascade of fiery hair. Strike first. Escape later. The attack was a desperate gamble, a split-second decision born of fear. 

  However, your attack failed to land. A whip sprang out of nowhere, wrapping around your wrist and throwing you off balance. You shouted out as the intensity of the pull knocked you off your feet. 

  A rough voice yelled, "Whoa there!" "Who the hell are you?" 

Your eyes darted between the three figures as you fought against the whip's tight hold. The three of them were odd. The tall one exuded an aura of ancient strength that chilled your spine, his eyes gleaming with an unearthly brilliance. A vampire. Their species, monsters of myth and evil, had been spoken to you. The man with the whip, his hand hovering close to the sword at his hip, was all jagged edges and suspicious mistrust. Additionally, the woman had a strong magical energy that crackled in the atmosphere. a speaker. A magician. Fuck. You curse under your breath, seems like you chose the wrong night to be brave.  

"Let me go!" You growled, your rage fueled by dread and desperation. "You're in my way!" 

  The woman answered, "Not until you tell us who you are and what you're doing here," in a remarkably composed tone. "We're not your enemies. Please let us explain and we all calm down first." 

"Enemies?" You sneered. "You're preventing me from getting away. You become enemies as a result.”  

The tall figure stepped forward; his eyes narrowed. "We were fighting those creatures," he said, his voice low and melodic, sending another shiver down your spine. "The same creatures that were chasing you." 

You hesitated, your gaze shifting between them. Were they telling the truth? Or was this some sort of trap? You couldn't trust anyone. 

  A bloodcurdling howl shattered the forest's quiet. The creatures. They were close. Too close. 

  Your breath caught. You were stuck. Between these three strangers and the terrifying menace closing in. Desperation clawed at you. You had to make a decision. 

  "Help me," you pleaded, your tone raw and urgent. "Please." You tried to summon the little lunar magic in your hands, gazing up at the moon. It was full. That’s enough to defend yourself.  

The tall person's eyes wavered. He and the other two looked at each other. "She's the one," in an eager tone. "She's the Saintess." His eyes were focused on the small light that emitted from your hands. Your small dagger was lost after being reflected by the other man.  

  The whip-wielding man snorted. "The Saintess? The Moonbeam? This girl who just tried stabbing her dagger into the air?" You couldn't even bother giving him any reaction, eyes focused on the glowing eyes, like burning coals, pierced the darkness, gaining with every stride. 

  "She's more than she seems," returned the tall one, staring at you. "I've seen her power." 

  The woman's eyes widened in recognition as she gasped. She exhaled, "The prophecy…" "It's true." Her attitude changed from one of scepticism to one of awe as she gazed at you. "You… you're her, aren't you?" 

  "Her? With a quivering voice, you questioned, "Who are you talking about?" 

  "The Saintess," the woman stated in a respectful tone. "The person who controls the power of the moon. The one who is going to save us.”  

"Save you? Your mind racing, you said, "From what?" 

  Before they could respond, the animals charged into the clearing, staring at you with luminous eyes. All around you. 

  In the moonlight, the tall one's blade gleamed as it was drawn. His expression was tough and resolute. He said, "We'll explain later." His sword floats close to him, his stance going nearer and shielding you from the view. "For now, we fight." 

  He faced you, his eyes locking with yours. "You're one of us now," he declares.  

"Whether you like it or not." And the whip-man added. "Great. Another stray with otherworldly abilities. Alucard, Sypha, and now you." He made an unclear gesture. "We might as well start charging rent now." You heard Sypha, the Speaker, gently prod the man, saying, "Trevor, not the time and place." 

  Your heart sank. They weren't trustworthy. No, not yet. You were aware, however, that you couldn't do this by yourself. 

  You inhaled tremblingly, a sensation of inevitability against horror. Saintess aren't someone who should get used to battlefields, running, and certainly not with the weird group you had going. But here you are. You had to battle to prevail. 

a/n:

i cant stop laughing at the 'roar' there's nothing else comes into mind.

also im well aware that u guys have a problem with its not being reader but for me I'm like ??? cus like how sure are you the "reader" that I wrote is the same as the "reader" in your mind? but anyways

[pupsmailbox]

ANGELIC︰DEVINE ID PACK

NAMES︰ abel. acher. achille. adam. adorine. adrien. adélie. aelin. alaida. alexis. alice. alya. ambroise. amelia. amour. ana. anahera. andras. ang. angaile. ange. angel. angela. angelesse. angelette. angelica. angeliki. angelina. angeline. angelique. angelissa. angelita. angeliza. angella. angelo. angelus. angelyna. angelynn. angie. angé. angélique. anna. annex. antoine. aphrodite. apolline. arella. aria. ariel. arwen. astrid. aura. aurora. aurore. avi. avian. azazel. azira. azireal. baal. behemoth. bellina. berrie. bethany. beyond. bibi. blaise. blanche. blanchesse. blanchette. blushe. bowette. cael. cain. caleb. camille. capucine. carmen. carrion. cary. casiel. casimir. cassandra. cassiel. castiel. cathy. celeste. celestine. celine. cerberus. cerise. charmeine. cheir. cher. cherie. cherub. choirette. christian. christine. chérie. cielo. claire. claude. cloud. cloudisse. cynthia. cyril. dahlia. daintsel. daisy. damien. damon. damselle. danni. daunte. delilah. dina. divina. divine. divinesse. divinette. divinity. divinne. donovan. dova. dove. dovesse. dovette. dulcengel. eden. elena. elouan. elysia. emmy. engel. enzo. eowyn. erebus. eryn. estelle. esther. ether. evangelina. evangeline. evangelista. eve. faith. fawn. feather. feint. felix. fern. fiacre. fleur. flutter. fortune. francette. francis. gabriel. gabriela. gabriella. gaby. galadriel. ganbriel. gemini. genesis. ghoul. giselle. glide. glow. godefrey. gold. grace. grime. gwenaël. haima. halo. heartette. heather. heaven. heavenelle. heavenesse. hel. helena. henri. hera. holy. holyness. honoré. husk. hyacinthe. icha. Idyllic. isaac. isabelle. isidore. jacques. jade. jennifer. jin. jocelyn. jordan. joseph. josephina. julia. kage. karine. kasdeya. katie. kenzo. keres. kilian. lacey. lambise. lamia. lana. laura. leila. leilani. levi. leviathan. liam. light. lightion. lilia. lilin. lilith. lola. louis. lucia. lucien. lucifer. lucille. lyricille. léo. madeleine. madeline. malachi. malvina. mal’akhi. marc. mare. marie. marin. marine. mary. mateo. maxime. melantha. michael. micheal. michelangelo. michelle. mikhail. minerva. mirabelle. morgan. moros. mortem. mysti. nadia. narcisse. nazaire. nessie. nicholas. noah. noelle. octave. océane. odin. olivia. onyx. ophelia. orion. orpheus. parisa. pastel. pharr. pheobe. pinkette. pinkion. piérre. priscilla. prosper. rainier. ramiel. raphael. rapheal. ravana. raymond. robin. rogue. rosaire. roxxane. roziel. ruby. rue. ruelle. rémi. sabel. saint. saintesse. saintette. salome. salomon. samael. samuel. sanctus. sara. sephora. sephtis. sera. seraph. seraphim. seraphin. seraphina. seraphine. serenity. seth. shine. shutter. silver. skye. soan. soarer. soft. softetta. softsel. sol. sonata. song. sophia. soraya. spirit. strawbette. sugarette. swift. sylvain. sylvianne. séraphin. tatiana. tenshi. theodore. timothee. tristan. uriel. ursula. valentine. valerie. venetia. vera. victor. victoria. victorien. vionetta. virtue. vivian. vivien. whimselle. willow. wingette. wingina. wolf. xavier. xela. yann. yasmine. yvette. zacharie. zoe. ángel. ánxela. éloi. étienne.

PRONOUNS︰ abo/above. accurate/angel. adore/adore. ae/ae. ae/aer. an/angel. angel/angel. angelic/angelic. arch/angel. archangel/archangel. arrow/arrow. aura/aura. ay/aym. ballet/ballet. beau/beau. beauty/beauty. being/being. beloved/beloved. bible/biblical. black/black. bless/bless. bless/blesse. bless/blessing. blessing/blessing. bloom/bloom. blue/blue. bow/bow. broke/broken. bun/bun. celeste/celestial. celestial/celestial. chalice/chalice. che/che. cher/cher. cherub/cherub. cherub/cherubim. chirp/chirp. choir/choir. clou/cloud. cloud/cloud. cold/cold. cross/cross. crown/crown. cu/cupid. cupid/cupid. curse/curse. dark/dark. deity/deity. delicate/delicate. div/divine. div/divinity. divine/divine. dove/dove. dream/dream. drift/drift. empty/empty. er/ero. ero/ero. ethe/ethereal. ethereal/ethereal. ey/eyr. eye/eye. fai/faith. faith/faith. fall/fall. fall/fallen. fate/fate. faun/fauna. feather/feather. flight/flight. float/float. flower/flower. fluff/fluff. flutter/flutter. fly/flight. fly/fly. frill/frill. gentle/gently. glow/glow. gold/gold. gra/grace. grace/grace. grudge/grudge. guardian/guardian. ha/halo. hae/haer. halo/halo. harp/harp. he/hym. hea/heaven. heal/heal. heart/heart. heaven/heaven. heaven/heavenly. hell/hell. hol/holy. holy/holy. hope/hope. hush/hush. hx/hxm. hy/hym. hymn/hymn. id/idol. it/it. ix/ix. kind/kind. ku/ku. kyr/kyr. lace/lace. lala/lala. lamb/lamb. life/life. light/light. lo/love. love/love. lyr/lyr. lyre/lyre. melancholy/melancholy. metallic/metallic. mirror/mirror. mist/mist. misty/misty. mon/mon. moral/moral. mystic/mystical. not/afraid. omen/omen. one/one. peace/peace. perfect/perfection. pink/pink. pray/pray. pray/prayer. prayer/prayer. priest/priest. pure/pure. pure/purr. radiant/radiant. ribbon/ribbon. rose/rose. sacred/sacred. saint/saint. scept/scepter. see/see. self/self. ser/seraph. seraph/seraph. seraph/seraphim. shimmer/shimmer. shine/shining. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. silk/silk. sin/sin. sing/song. sky/sky. smite/smite. snake/snake. snow/snow. soar/soaring. soft/soft. somber/somber. sorrow/sorrow. spark/sparkle. spirit/spirit. star/star. sugar/sugar. swan/swan. sweet/sweet. taint/taint. tether/tether. thing/thing. thorn/thorn. thxy/thxm. thy/thym. thy/thyn. tru/trumpet. unholy/unholy. unknown/unknown. vae/vaer. val/valentine. vio/vior. water/water. white/white. wi/wing. wing/wing. worship/worship. wraith/wraith. wrath/wrath. yellow/yellow. ze/zem. ðe/ðim. þe/þim. ȝe/ȝim. ☀️. ☁️. ⚖️. ⛪. ✨. ⭐. ⭐️. 🐑. 👁️. 👼. 🕊️. 🕯️. 😇. 🤍. 🦢.

[dangermousie]

WHO DID IT BETTER: Xie Xuechen (The Blossoming Love) v Feng Xi (Twisted Fate of Love)

Did what, you ask? Why hang out with child version of his lover thanks to timey-wimey shenanigans which occurred in part to him trying to save her from dying.

Yup - that is why I love cdramas - this insane a set-up but we have it at least twice!!!

Anyway, XXC is a powerful cultivator (and a fragment of soul of long-ago emperor Zhao Ming stuck in hell for rebellion against heaven) who falls in love with a spirit saintess and when she dies to protect him, ascends a 38K step staircase of knives for the opportunity to travel back in time to change fate so she'd live. He ends up in a closed loop and one of the times is his saving her as a kid. He protects her, buys her food, and ultimately dies for her in the loop. And yeah, the whole time he knows she's child version of his true love.

Feng Xi is a powerful, corrupt minister who is actually on a revenge quest against the emperor (spoiler - who is also his father. This being a 2020 drama he gets his revenge) and our FL is a powerful martial artist who, like XXC, repeatedly travels back through time with the help of a masked man (who - spoiler! - is that timeline's Feng Xi!!!) to stop the disaster in her timeline. She travels back in time, gets involved with the sexy sexy bastard Feng Xi. Twisty, ruthless, shady FX is quite different from upright XXC but just like the latter, he can't resist a hot woman with a sword to his throat. Due to timey wimey stuff, she is around the same time her child self is and Feng Xi gets to interact with both of them, without knowing who the kid is. He's an entertaining eccentric uncle type to the kid. Heh. The loop is not closed in this case.

So, poll...

Also, if you haven't seen TFOL go watch!

[thatoneunknowncognitohazard]

Making a new pinned post because I accidentally deleted the first one (I will not recover from this).

I'm Kaede Nakamura, a hobby artist, an amateur writer (also for a hobby), a meme maker, and rambler.

My OCs are as follows:

Saintess Nakamura/Priestess Kaede (My persona)

She is an eldritch entity, born from the concept of arcane spiritual purification, she was praised and worshiped, but was soon called a demon by believers of a manmade god, and has gone into hiding

Her fanart tag is #kaedecrafts

Kaheru Ushiyama/Ushi-chan

A gentle ushi beastkin that has feelings for Priestess Kaede but is too shy to tell her. She does charity work for various causes, many of which are for LGBTQIA+ organizations.

Her fanart tag is #ushiyamart

Arghyle Edrin/Ambassador Beastkin

A beastkin of unknown chimerism, he fought in a war between humans and beastfolk as the highest ranking officer, but vowed a life of pacifism after losing his right leg. He wrote a peace treaty between the humans' Erytine Kingdom and his Maranki beast clans, to which it was presented to the king and accepted. He owns a statehouse on the border of the Maranki Plains and Wraelygg Province of the Erytine Kingdom.

No fanart tag given.

Celis Akrynn

A succubus with a pure heart holding a strong disdain for her kind. She left her realm to live a new life, but had nowhere to go. She was taken in by Priestess Kaede as an adopted sister, and was urged to take citizenship in order to stay with her. (Kaede already has citizenship, but the public has no recollection of it.)

Her fanart tag is #Celistrate

Mikana Oeryn of the Fatal Arrow

An Elfen archer from a different realm that Priestess Kaede once visited. She was the lover of Priestess Kaede who was unfortunately outlived. Her full past is a mystery, other than the fact that she was a mercenary. Her realm suddenly bled into the human realm, and the peoples of both realms lived in harmony.

No fanart tag given.

Aria Laine

A wandering spirit who thinks she's a Yuri, she died from an aortic aneurysm after consuming a few too many energy drinks. She lives with Celis and Kaede as a roommate and is a friend of Kaheru.

No fanart tag given.

[msdespairs-thoughts]

Contains: Kenjaku is not Geto, saintness reader, not proofread, written as notes, multiple characters x reader was in mind, Gender neutral reader but male reader was the original format so please kindly point out any he/him pronouns address the reader that I missed

Inspired by House Of Alphas by Sadistic-kiss

Imagine:

A Modern era mix with medieval themes. Major clans upgraded to kingdoms but the main focus will be Ryomen ruled by Sukuna, Zen’in ruled by Naobito, Gojo ruled by Satoru, Kamo ruled by a Kamo.

Neutral grounds that belong to Tengen as they are what’s preventing the cursed lands from spreading, protecting each kingdom from the mindless, and had paths built connect each kingdom to another.

Everyone is alive, curse techniques and the schools exist. Jujutsu is in Gojo kingdom, as the Kyoto is in the Kama kingdom. Riko Amanai and Yuki Tsukumo are Tengen’s disciples called the Star Plasma those who have similar abilities as Tengen. Toji hides in the Gojo kingdom and has a deal with Satoru to protect his kids in exchange he’ll act a Satoru’s lapdog. Suguru is Satoru’s husband. Yuji and Choso are Sukuna’s sons.

Kenjaku will be using the body of Getou’s ancestor. He’ll be the antagonist as he’s the embodiment of the Cursed lands. Maihto Jojo dagon and Hanami will be his creations. He blends in with society as long with his four children.

There’s a difference between Curse spirits that roam the world and the ones that live in the kingdoms. Sentient Curses are basically like Yōkai and they mainly from Sukuna’s kingdom. As for Mindless Curses are unknown spirits that will kill humans and Sentient Curses for their negative cursed energy.

Mindless Curses get stronger for killing someone with cursed energy even if someone contains little of it. Mindless Curses aren't created by humans but by a another factor. In the cursed lands that remain untouched due to the overwhelming numbers of Mindless Curses and by a strange force that will turn anyone who step onto the lands into a mindless curse.

The leaders of each kingdom go to Tengen’s place to have a meeting about the mindless and what to do. Yuki brings up some old prophecy she found of a Saintess that will have the power to combat the mindless and enter the cursed lands taking down the barrier that prevents anyone from entering further, Gojo is the only one who can enter the cursed lands due to his infinity but cannot destroy the barrier, Tengen refuses and reveals that to summon a Saintness requires a heavy sacrifice but if done incorrectly will have dire consequences as it was done once a long time ago and they had witnessed the catastrophic events. By the end, they had made a vote and it ended up as the majority voted to attempt summoning the Saintess. Unknown that Kenjaku was disguised during the meeting.

The summoning required a vacant virgin body of someone who died that very day for the Saintess to host. It must take place at night with a full moon and clear skies with no clouds in sight.

Kenjaku sabotaged the summoning towards the end but he was too late as You are transported into another body of someone who died that same day.

Tengen expected the night stars to fall towards them just like what they witnessed but nothing happened. They realized that the summon must have work and that the Saintess must be in another body.

You are confused when opened your eyes seeing that you are in a wooden box, realizing it is a closed coffin. Of course, this prompts you to start screaming and banging on the coffin until someone opened. It was during the original host(OG) funeral, OG’s family, friends, plus others are overjoyed to see you up. This starts a rumor about You being blessed by the gods

You questions who they are and where you are causing OG’s family to freaking out when the pastor(?) calmly explains that it possible for him to have amnesia as he was dead for hours.

[koremakaria]

Speaking of Suspicious Relationship!!! What's the Deal with These Two?

Sang Qi knew from the start that Mu Xuanling's drive for vengence was for the 'wrong' man but said nothing to her presumably to keep her in the Abyss.

Then there is the special treatment of MXL. She has a special status as the 'saintess'. SQ allows her to voice her opinions freely. He allows her to betray him and not get killed instantly. He asks her to sit on his throne with him. He cares about her safety by placing that tracing mark on her so that he'd always know her location and her health status. He allows her to stray from his plan before pulling her back in.

SQ is aware of MXL's romantic feelings for XXC but still didn't just kill her or wipe her memories. Or like gives her any sort of punishment!! No. Instead the man locked away MXL's emotions so that she can't feel anything. No love. No hate. Sadness, pain, yearning, jealousy, greed ... my girl can't feel a thing. When you feel nothing, you live by making rational decisions. There is no right or wrong. No good and no evil because you need emotions/feelings to make such a call. And so, MXL lives to fulfill her duties and obligations to her teacher.

It's interesting to note that SQ is doing this not to create/train an emotionless assassin but because he didn't think XXC can be faithful. AKA XXC is not good enough for his saintess. Sang Qi believes that XXC will always choose the well-being of the world over his 'love' for MXL.

SQ revealed to the audience that he once loved someone and she betrayed him. (Oh yes! Tragic backstory for our villain! Sooo yum!) But instead of locking away his memory along with the pain he chose to seek power so that he'd be strong enough to prevent anyone from hurting him again. On the Scale of Evil Reasons, it actually makes sense in that someone hurt him and so he wants more power for self preservation. So that he wouldn’t have to be afraid of anyone. Like, dude, I get it.

Now that someone happens to be Gao Qiu Min's dead mother sooo the plot thickens!

SQ told MXL that she’d be better off not remembering her romantic feelings. Then we have this epic conversation. It's the Ariel and her father King Triton's convo.

And MXL was like "But Daddy I love him!" ❤️

SQ: "And you resent me because of that love"

MXL: "You don't understand!!"

SQ: "Drink this potion and I will let you live"

MXL: "I won't drink it! I would rather you kill me!"

SQ: "My dear, loving a human has no positive attribute. You don't get anything in return. Humans can't be trusted. They will betray you. I don't want that fate for you."

MXL: "SQ, you once loved a human and she betrayed you, right? And yet you did not drink the potion. You choose to remember. Even when you knew her love was a lie, you still choose to keep that false affection."

SQ: "Be quiet! I don't want to talk about it!"

Then he proceeds to force MXL to drink the potion.

I know he wanted the power that Xie Xue Chen bestowed on MXL but well SQ still didn't get rid of her when he got the power he wanted. Sooo this brings us to what kind of a relationship these two have? Personally, it screams familial to me. Dare I say paternal?

And I might be reading too much into this but when XXC was possessed by a dark spirit during the night of the Gao's slaughtering session... Mu Xuanling called the possessed XXC 'dad' ... was Sang Qi the one that possessed XXC? Because 👀 hmmm.

Sang Qi gives Mu Xuanling special attention for sure but they are not the romantic kind. He treats her so differently from his other subordinates but you never get the feel that its for romantic reasons. The throne sitting is very telling because you just don't share your throne with your student/subordinate. Maybe your wife or your significant other ... yes ... and then just maybe your daughter that you dote on.

[liviavanrouge]

Twisted Wonderland's Only Saintess

Vil: *Smiles, sitting with everyone else, having arrived at Saint's Village* To think we'd be invited for a grand celebration for Livia

Ruggie: Yeah, all of Twisted Wonderland is celebrating!

Rook: Oui! It makes sense as she is the only person in her Bloodline to be a blood relative Saintess of Queen Virda!

Rook: The other Saints and Saintess' were blessed by the Spirit Lords, Livia being here would be celebrated by everyone as she is Queen Virda's descendant!

Cater: I didn't know that-

Priests: *Comes out, carrying torches with Spirit Fairies in them* Já disse que Jade chegou!!! Já disse que já disse que Jade chegou!

Priestess': *Walks out, carrying differently colored roses* Já disse que Jade chegou!! Já disse que já disse que Jade chegou!!

Livia: *Smiles wearing her Saintess attire, flying through the air with the Spirit Fairies she managed to summon or made contracts with*

Crewel: Dazzling! Her outfit!

Trein: *Smiles, holding Lucius* She looks lovely..

Livia: *Beams, doing a twirl in the air, her pigtails draped over her shoulders*

Sebek: *Stares, his cheeks turning pink* She...looks like an angel..

Silver: *Gives Sebek a look*

Livia: *Beams, settling down on spinning flowers, laughing*

Harlem: *Holds his hand out to Livia, smiling widely*

Livia: *Takes his hand, leaping down beaming*

Harlem: LET'S CELEBRATE!!!

Priest A and B: *Takes Livia's hands, bringing her to the middle* Calling all beautiful creatures! Come spread your wings, dance and sing songs about freedom!

Livia: *Smiles, twirling in the middle of the celebrating Priests and Priestess'* Like la-la-la, ooh-ooh!!

Livia: *Beams, flaring her wings leaping into the sky spinning then landing* One for the jungle família!!

Priestess B and D: *Tosses roses into the air towards the crowd* Like ba-ba-ba, boom-boom!

Harlem: *Holds his hand out to Livia* Calling all beautiful creatures!!

Livia: *Blasts elemental fireworks into the sky, laughing*

Ace: WOAH!!! This field trip was worth it!

Deuce: SO COOL!!

Cater: *Smiles, recording the entire thing* Wow...!

Floyd: I wanna dance with Catfish too! How is that fair!

Jade: *Chuckles* Floyd, don't ruin her day.

Floyd: Hmph! She owes me lots of dance time later on!!

Livia; *Smiles, a golden leaf crown being placed on her head* I am Livia Vanrouge! Spirit Saintess of Twisted Wonderland!!

@queen-of-twisted @yukii0nna @zexal-club

[xbraveheartx]

It occurred to me how huge the number 3 is in Lies of P... you have the trinity rooms... the game takes place over the course of 3 days (If I remember correctly)... Romeo is comprised of 3... The whole story of "The 3 brothers"... the world was founded on 3's: Craftsmen, Workshop workers, and Alchemists... You get 3 different menu screens...

So I really believe that even our beloved main character is a representative of 3: Mind, Body, and Spirit.

Mind: A mixture of Carlo and P Body: P Spirit: Carlo

While technically it wouldn't be 3, we can also think of "mind" as mixing two colors to create a new one. I just think I'm onto something here, in regards to the rule of 3's. I also think it's still accurate, saying he's comprised of these things.

Also with the true ending of the story being a theme of rebirth, it's also incredibly biblical in the sense that... "On the Third Day He Rose Again from the Dead", which only harkens back to the visual we get of having passed out in Sophia's arms, mirroring the saintess of mercy statue, the very statue that Camille, his mother and first to reawaken as a puppet with an ego, created in life before her passing.

Just very interesting and I adore the symbolism they placed around every corner of the game!!

[teecupangel]

Same person who asked Angel! Altaïr

What if Ezio and Connor turned into biblically accurate angels? (And maybe Haytham or Edward for fun-)

Hi, nonny! Thank you for making Altaïr suffer as a biblically accurate angel yesterday (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

Now... Let's screw up Desmond's other ancestors' lives XD

Well, Ezio would definitely have a hard time doing anything else because he’s just become a biblical-accurate angel in one of the most religious parts of the world during his time. Like, if this was set during AC2, Ezio would probably run to Monteriggioni to escape all the worshipping and falling into the ground to pray and stuff, unintentionally turning Monteriggioni into a religious location.

A… holy land.

If this is the middle of AC2, Rodrigo Borgia wouldn’t be pope yet so his power will be limited and it’s really, really going to be easy for all of this to go out of hand and, honestly, Mario Auditore doesn’t strike me as the religious type but he’d definitely try to spin this entire thing to their advantage while worrying on how to get his nephew back to human form in closed doors.

Oh god.

If they hear about Ezio’s mother and sister…

Maria Auditore might be considered a holy woman!

CLAUDIA MIGHT BE CALLED A SAINTESS!

Oh shhiiittt. Claudia might actually milk this entire thing and do a Jeanne d’Arc in this setup.

And Ezio would be stuck in Monteriggioni because he can’t be an Assassin now, EVERYONE is looking at him.

And now… Claudia Auditore takes centerstage. This time, it’s Ezio’s turn to take care of the books. XD

.

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Honestly, Ratonhnhaké:ton wouldn’t think of himself as an angel. He would believe that he had been touched by the spirits or something similar so he may protect his village. Redcoats would definitely see him and think that the end times have come. They have been judged and proclaimed as sinners. This would actually be the most dangerous setup because Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn’t necessarily have a good support system in place. Achilles is an old jaded man who can’t easily come to his aid. All of his white allies have their own desires and they wouldn’t mind using Ratonhnhaké:ton to achieve their goals. Then… the siege of Yorktown becomes the battleground of two heavenly beings as Haytham stands in front of Charles Lee… and turns into an angel as well.

Edward:

You know what would be funny… if Edward turned into an angel during the webtoon part. Like, just think of Noa’s “what? WHAT??? WHAT?????” reaction to watching as Edward suddenly becomes an angel and he gets desynced there and then because “holy shit, what???” and everyone in the room are just like “???????”.

In the Gray:

“Reader… Reader… you have to stop this.”

“I can’t… I’m connecting to Desmond Miles’ ancestors and this automatically happens. I cannot stop the connection.”

“Reader, if you keep doing this…………… You might have to pretend to be ‘God’.”

“………… what kind of logic did you have to jump thru to get to that idea???”

“Is that sarcasm I sense in your voice? Is this making you human again???”

“Focus, Layla!”

[tragedicna]

the gods / deities / immortals but original character ver. ( l -> r )

DELUN -> aka : he who connects / more accurately : he who makes connections | a god with the ability to see how things relate and connect , be it romantic relations or a crime . . . currently a detective

HAEWON -> aka : preserver of the divine / more accurately : god killer | a former gisaeng that murdered her assaulters , unable to move into the afterlife , bound by the gods . currently wandering the world .

HUIYING -> aka : she who guides death / more accurately : she who receives death | a former cultivator of a bygone era , earned her immortality by merit and talent , often called up by those who're dying . currently . . . busy .

BIMING -> aka : he who waits / more accurately : he who guides the lost | a former wandering god turned orphanage manager , takes in children that have lost parents or have gotten lost , sometimes is associated to being the patron deity of lost things . currently running an orphanage .

YONGLIANG -> aka : lightbearer / more accurately : the perfected lord who guides light to those lost in the dark | a bright spirit who had been curious of the world , loved humanity so much he was willing to die for them . a corrupted being from taking on negative karma , he's sealed away to prevent spread . currently dormant in a maze-like shrine .

AKIMI -> aka : white tiger of the north / more accurately : the former crown prince of a fallen kingdom | a prince with a secret , still hiding their true identity despite no longer having a reason to . currently in hiding .

BAIYIN -> aka : heroine goddess / more accurately : she who is of bright darkness | one half of the scale , a god of balance that is mistaken as one of misfortune . currently sealed away in an isolated shrine

HEIYANG -> aka : vengeful god / more accurately : he who is of dark daylight | the other half of the scale , the twin to baiyin , the true god of misfortune and all that is bad . currently wreaking havoc on anyone that dares to approach his sister's shrine

HUIYI -> aka : he who remembers / more accurately : he who collects the past ; hough he's known as the god of the past , he's more correctly known as the GOD OF MEMORIES . an archivist in his own right , huiyi is a collector , he collects all memories of all living beings and it's stored away in his infinite library . . . he dotes on delun a fair bit and often gets in trouble for doing so .

ROSALEA -> aka : weaver of tales / more accurately : she who spins stories ; she is one of huiyi's counterpart...if he is of the past, then she is of the present. she's the one who weaves the record of a being's story, thousands of tapestries upon looms waiting to be completed or to be hung up.

WREN -> aka : protector of the night / more accurately : he who protects the women of the night ; he was just a simple boy sold into the red light district by his parents, he began as an errand boy before he was forced into the role of entertainer...his sisters helped him escape but unwilling to leave them behind, he returned to become their protector.

CAELIA -> aka : humanity's screw up / more accurately : false saintess, manmade deity : she was born from human hands, from curious humans who believe they could play GOD. instilled with holy scripture, with divine powers and yet, she is the laughingstock of the deities, for thinking she could be a messenger of their teachings when she doesn't even know who she is

DONGMEI -> aka : kitchen god / more accurately : she who feeds the hungry ; she is just a kind soul who hated seeing people go hungry, so no one ever leaves her kitchen hungry. she feeds anyone that wanders into her home, she's the one the starving prays to...for hope to find a meal to fill their stomach.

[lizhly-writes]

here, have an oc. i modeled this one after the typical 'saintess' that you keep seeing in otome isekai because i needed an og fl for an otome isekai type story, except i decided that she needed more depth and then i accidentally made her more interesting than the main trio of characters i was supposed to be using and now i'm contemplating writing a story where she's actually the main character.

anyway.

Mila Clay, also known as Ludmilla the Haunted, the Saint of Lost Causes, the Cursed Saint. The patron saint of wanderers, runaways, curse victims, restless spirits, and the eaten. She was unintentionally cursed at birth by a fairy with the phrase, “may you be to everyone’s taste”, which made her both incredibly likable to everyone around her and also incredibly delicious, causing people to go mad with a taste of her blood.  

She began wandering to get away from people who lusted for her blood and to attempt to cure her own curse, but as she grew, she only picked up more and more curses.  It is hope that one day she will be free that drives her forward.

It is her proficiency in dealing with curses that brought her fame as a saint.  She is proficient in curse breaking; failing that, she is capable of uncursing someone, at the cost of bearing it herself.  Her true specialty is, however, laying curses on top of each other with such complexity that they cancel each other out – that is, casting curses.  This has earned her a rather mixed reputation. Saint she may be, capable of performing miracles like any other, but she is also curse-bearer, witch, ill omen, tainted, unclean.  It is why some call her Saint of Lost Causes – it is only the desperate who eagerly welcome her to their door.

She is fated to die from one of her curses. Which one, exactly, is a mystery, because I haven’t fucking figured it out yet.

[swet99]

In the enchanted kingdom of Arbek, where magic thrived and mysteries unfolded, a cursed illegitimate princess was born. Her existence, a stain upon the regal lineage, was met with disdain and rejection from the moment she drew her first breath. The empress, her mother, perished during the arduous childbirth, leaving behind a fractured family and a world fraught with darkness.

The cursed princess never knew her mother's tender touch or heard her gentle voice. She was left to navigate a treacherous path in a kingdom where she was unwanted. Her father, burdened by grief and resentment, turned a blind eye to her existence, choosing instead to immerse himself in his own sorrow. Her elder brother, a fragile soul torn apart by the loss of his beloved mother, directed his anger towards her, holding her responsible for the tragedy that befell their family.

Whispers of the curse that tainted her birth spread like wildfire through the kingdom. The people, fearing the unknown, branded her as a creature of darkness and harbinger of evil. Everywhere she went, she was met with scornful gazes and scornful words. The weight of their judgment crushed her spirit, and she found solace only in the fleeting moments of solitude.

As if the curse upon her birth was not enough, the cursed princess also suffered from a life-threatening affliction. For an entire year, she teetered on the precipice of death, barely sustained by meager rations and the faint flicker of her own will to survive. The servants, servants in name only, treated her with disdain and indifference. They reveled in her weakness, making disrespectful remarks and subjecting her to cruel abuse whenever they pleased.

Yet, despite the torment she endured, the cursed princess clung to a sliver of hope. In the depths of her heart, she yearned for her family's affection, dreaming that one day they would see her worth and cast away their animosity. Her days were filled with efforts to please them, to earn their love and acceptance. But alas, her endeavors were in vain, as her father remained distant, her brother's hatred unyielding, and the empress a mere phantom of a forgotten time.

The fateful day arrived when the sword of her own husband became her deliverance from a life riddled with suffering. Betrayed and deceived, she fell victim to a cruel plot, her trust shattered into irreparable pieces. She was used, abused, neglected, and finally silenced in death's embrace.

And then, a miracle occurred. The cursed princess was reborn, transported to a realization that shattered her world anew. She discovered that the realm she resided in was not reality but a tale inscribed upon the pages of a novel. In this narrative, she was the villain, and the saintess, a character bestowed with endless love and prosperity, played the role of the heroine.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, the cursed princess was faced with a profound choice. Would she succumb to the vengeful urges that seethed within her wounded soul, seeking retribution against those who had wronged her? Or would she rise above the shackles of her past, forging a new path toward survival and freedom?

Guided by her indomitable will, she recognized the power she now possessed. A mysterious system had mistaken her as an ally of the saintess, endowing her with incredible abilities. It expected her to aid the saintess in her quest to rule the world. Yet, her loyalties wavered, her convictions tested. Should she play the part assigned to her, or should she carve her own destiny, defying the constraints of the written word?

[descendent-of-the-sixth-heaven]

She was planning to, but she also has fallen for Nobunaga. Mai found it harder to leave him, so she made a gamble. Instead of staying at the castle like she did in the vision, she followed Nobunaga and stayed by his side during his conquests.

Her presence alone boosted Nobunaga's morale and spirits, making him undefeatable in the battle. As she nursed his wounds every time he returned, his love for her grew even bigger.

And then, the day came. Nobunaga met the saintess, a woman so breathtakingly beautiful. Mai braced herself for the worst when she heard her husband has made it to the temple.

But when Nobunaga looked at the saintess, he felt... nothing. He didn't even spare a second glance at the saintess before telling his right-hand man to provide the temple the necessary aids. He was cold and detached.

Mai couldn't believe it when he returned to the camp alone. She has hid a dagger and was prepared to fight if he had returned with the saintess, but he was alone instead.

Confused, Mai decided to confront him, telling him the truth. But to her surprise, Nobunaga laughed. His voice was softer than she had ever heard it as he said, ‘You were wrong, Mai. There’s no one else. There will never be anyone else. Only you, my empress.’

And with those words, the vision she had dreaded for so long shattered. Nobunaga didn’t fall for the saintess, he has fallen for her. Mai has successfully outwit the fate. She became the empress who melted the heart of the cruelest emperor in history. Together, they ruled, not with fear, but with the kind of strength that only comes from love and understanding.

And for the first time in his life, Nobunaga wasn’t haunted by his past. He had found peace, all because of Mai... the end.

*He listened to her story till the very end, though it seemed like her story worked in making him fall asleep*