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huicitawrites · 6 months

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Priestess of The Malevolent Shrine

Yandere! Trueform Sukuna x Fem! Reader

tags: @a-tiny-teez @kazusan7yanderekun @eleventhdoctorsangel @sircatchungus

warnings: yandere, “slow burn”, violence, death and torture, slavery

Part 1- It begins

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The day itself was no different than any other spring day in Japan. The vast forest gleamed with green and a soft breeze danced through the trees and rattled the leaves. In the depths, the sound of rushing water could be heard, indicating the presence of a waterfall or spring.

And yet, it was still awfully quiet.

No sounds or sights of animals- no heads of reindeers or tails of mountain foxes, not a single bird sat atop the tree branches and not the single chirp of a cricket or the all-too-known hisses of cicadas.

In any case, the air was tense, the spring wind carried gloom and silence. The dense forest did not hide you, but made you feel small and intimidated, vulnerable to the feeling of being stalked like prey.

You were capable of seeing their eyes and malformed shapes, their sights were focused on you, who was sitting inside the decorated carriage, and the men who carried you to the slaughter.

They outnumbered you and the men, they made you easy prey and yet, they did not jump at the opportunity. No, they watched. Although the bodies pushed and squeezed each other, they did not cross your path and in its stead, formed a straight path up the hill- at the top of it and at its end, a massive torii-gate could be seen.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

Yes, that’s what you were- The make-up, the accessories and wedding hanfu were all a traditional façade, you were not a woman to be married off to a man as the noble customs dictate.

No.

You were a sacrifice.

An unlucky sheep being delivered to the wolf’s den in a ridiculous attempt to save the other sheep.

As the carriage advanced, you couldn’t help but grasp and twist the fabric of the dress. It was shameful, if anything. Your clan was once proud and strong, almost at par with the family that held possession of The Six Eyes. Your parents were proud leaders that had exorcized countless curses and led their fellow shamans to dominate the battlefield.

A terrible encounter would be their doom and leave the [L/n] clan in shambles. Your parents and many other clanspeople fought and lost their lives to the King of Curses. The L/n’s, once vast and powerful, was rendered scarce and vulnerable. Without the support such a big clan provided, your village’s riches run dry and your clan was abandoned by the townspeople. Even when you as the heiress of the Clan pleaded for help to the other great clans in hopes they would honor their alliances held for over decades, they turned their backs on you without a second thought.

What could you, a young woman with feeble grasp of her own inherited technique, hope to do to? In a world where power ruled over all and guaranteed survival, what could you possibly do to prevent your clan from extinction?

How could you ever save the legacy of your dear parents?

It seemed like your uncle, the only closest relative you had alive, had a wonderful idea. "We'll put to use your youth and face”, he had said, “I am sure you can please him, your parents would be proud to see you do anything in your grasp to save our clan. As a young L/n heiress, it is your duty. Bask in pride.”

‘Bask in pride?’ To hell with him, it seemed that he had also forgotten about his sister, your beloved mother, and his brother-in-law. They would never sell you out, as long as you can remember they never pressured you to accept any suitor and they would always express their desire for you to choose out of your own right.

And screw your Uncle’s words, they would rather fight tooth and nail against the whole Jujutsu world than to see you being sent off to the Cursed King himself. Your parents would rather die than issue an alliance with Ryomen Sukuna, the murderer of your clan, through you- their cherished daughter.

However, they had indeed died. They could do nothing to prevent you from your fate and save you from the madness and desperation of your uncle.

‘Mother, Father’, your fingertips instinctively brushed the piece of jewelry that adorned your [Y/n] hair - a colorful hairpin in the shades of [favorite color] passed down to you as a family heirloom - when you closed your eyes, the faces of your deceased parents and fallen clanspeople flashed in your mind.

To hell with your uncle, to hell with the King of Curses.

Too caught up within your mind, you were brought back by a ‘knock-knock’ from the outside wall of the carriage. Your uncle’s voice reached your ears, “We are almost there, [Y/n]. Prepare yourself.”

“Remember, our lives depend on you. Do not do anything stupid.”

You knew well what he meant to say, ‘don’t you dare step out of line’. You can perfectly recall the sting of the palm of his hand on your right cheek when you had first opposed. You were still opposed, you could not hide the truth that reflected in your face. Your uncle was mad, but he was not blind. He was aware of your intentions and the unwavering loyalty you had for your parents and the clan. Their teachings, values and traditions were well rooted within you.

The ascending movements of the carriage came to a stop. Your curiosity willed you towards the window of the carriage. When taking a peak out of it, you noticed a massive, old and strained torii. The color of it had faded and lost itself to time and the wood of it had various cracks that ran through the columns. In spite of it all, it stood tall and its height made you feel even smaller and more insignificant to its grandness.

Past the torii, meters away and framed at the center, was a shrine.

When the lot of you crossed the torii, a massive aura came crushing on you. The tension solidified ten times over, and the air became even thicker than before. Unlike in the forest, there were no cursed spirits yet the cursed energy emanating from the shrine was hundreds of times stronger and fouler.

This was where Ryomen Sukuna lived.

He had to be there, inside.

The gates of the shrine opened on their own as if he were already expecting your arrival. He knew all of you were here the moment you put a foot in that cursed forest. The doors creaked and the ominous scenery lit up.

The shrine was spacious, there were three columns at each side of the hallroom and between the last pair there was his throne.

The veils of the carriage hid you, but you could feel your uncle and his men freeze. You could feel his cursed energy radiating past the carriage walls and veils, directly hitting your skin and making your body tremble. You bit your lower lip and your nails crumbled the fabric even tighter. It would leave permanent creases, if you ever lived past this moment to see them that is.

“Oh, great King of Curses,” your uncle’s voice announced and his body bowed along the remaining clanspeople, “We have come in peace and humbleness with an offer.”

Your uncle could not resist slightly raising his head and taking a mere glance, but once he did, he was quick to redirect his forehead to the ground and sweat began to break all over his body.

At the top of the leading stairs and in a golden throne gilded with skulls sat Ryomen Sukuna, seemingly bored. Even as he sat, his body was huge, and he had two pairs of arms. The lower set held two weapons, a staff and a dagger, which did nothing but aggravate the threat that he was. His top left arm laid on the armrest as his right elbow bent to cushion his cheek. Although his head was tilted to the side and there were no traces of ire or madness right away, his four eyes looked down upon them with disdain. As if he were glancing at a couple of ants.

His eyes were, however, quick to glance at the carriage. Of course he knew what this was about, this was not the first time he was made an ‘offering’. His red irises glanced back to your uncle and the people behind him, oh how he enjoyed the sight of fools bowing to him.

“Bring the carriage forward and back off. I’ll see whatever’s inside for myself”.

His voice was low and thick, Sukuna ordered them around without much more explanation, only with the expectation that they would fill out his command. They were at his mercy, and so, the carriage was carried forward with you in it. Slowly, they lowered it and dropped you on the ground. As they retreated, their forms were still kept bowed and low.

Ryomen Sukuna stood up from his throne, full seven feet or more of stature in display. Strange black markings stretched across his skin. As he descended the stairs, his heavy footfalls thudded the wooden floor, vibrating through the it.

The carriage shook in the ground, you could tell he was enormous and monstrous due to those footfalls of his. With each step, he got closer, and you grew even more nervous.

Sweat began to break from the skin of your forehead, your eyes widened and your pupils constricted, your throat became tight and dry.

‘He’s getting closer, he’s getting closer, he’s-’

The shadow of his silhouette tinted the veils, and suddenly everything around you disappeared. All you could hear and feel was the frantic drumming of your heart in your ears.

You could see in slow motion how his muscled arm came to grab the veil. One by one, his black claws passed through the division of the veils.

‘He will open them any second now.’

Your breathing became ragged and snippets of your life flashed across your eyes. Your parents, your clanspeople, the townspeople, everyone.

You would rather die than betray them.

You prepared yourself and below the sleeves of the damned hanfu, your knuckles turned white.

When Sukuna drew open the curtains, he was met with a pretty sight. It’s not an outstandingly new thing, but a pretty maiden is always a relief to a man’s eyes, even to one such as him.

Dolled up just for him with delicate makeup and luxurious fabrics, a lady with [h/c] hair and [s/c] skin sat on her knees elegantly. Her back was poise and kept, her eyes were closed, displaying long and curled eyelashes.

For a second, Sukuna lost his usual cool composure- he was truly impressed, even though many had come to him in a similar manner.

However, what followed suit was what definitely picked his interest.

The calm and docile demeanor of the lady snapped and her eyes shot open, revealing a pair of fierce [e/c] burning with fury. From the inside of the carriage, she leapt forward to him- to his throat to be precise.

“Oh?” The Cursed King expressed with genuine interest, an eyebrow cocked and all, as he admired your form in the air.

Your hair spread free and wild in the air, like the mane of a lion, and your teeth were bared as a warcry left your red-painted lips. Your left arm was extended and the palm of your hand was wide open, while the other arm’s elbow was bent behind your head. Sukuna was also quick to take notice of the weapon in your hand infused with cursed energy, a familiar one as well, and his eyes widened in further surprise when the cursed energy became so sharp it flashed in red and black.

The corners of Sukuna’s lips picked up, his lips parted in a wicked, toothy grin laced with malice. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could already taste it, the massacre. Your form was getting nearer and nearer by the second, with the naive intent to strike him down.

“I’d rather die than be sold off like a broodmare!”

“You foolish girl, you’ll kill us all!”

The King of Curses held an amused face in contrast to your enraged one, and just when you thought you would be able to pierce and slice open his throat, one of his arms stopped you. Abruptly, and quite ironically, he caught you by your own throat. His hold was strong, immobilizing you completely mid air. Your body halted and trembled, even as you struggled to find air, the object still held your cursed energy and your eyes kept burning with ire.

“Now this is getting fun”, Sukuna giggled as his four eyes scrutinized your form. He found that the way you resisted was pathetically adorable as if he had just caught an insect with the pads of his fingers, one he could squash in less than a second.

“A hairpin infused with cursed energy? Creative, I’ll give you that, but so stupid. You thought you could kill me? With a hairpin? That’s a little insulting to say the least ” His tone was mocking and condensing, his tongue lacing the words with venom. With his hand still choking you, he brought you closer.

He made out the words ‘fuck you’ from your lips, which just made him laugh some more. You raked your fingernails across his arm in agony, trying to tear apart his skin. Such a feisty lady.

The King of Curses made sure to glare at you right in the eyes with false pity as he spoke, “For someone who would rather die, you sure are putting on a pathetic display as you are giving it your all for some air”.

Something about his words resounded deep within you. A truth you wanted to deny yourself in the name of your parents. Everyone died whilst fighting and here you were, the least you could do was join them and honor their dignity!

Your eyesight was getting clouded with dark spots due to the lack of oxygen, but your ears were keen to the following words, “Hmm? You want to live, don’t you?”

Sukuna hummed the words as he was drowning in the details of your bodily expressions as you gasped for a last breath of air. He had taken many lives, some squealed like lowly pigs at the slaughter, others simply gave up, but some put up a fight, or some sort of resistance. Yours was such a case, in which you’d put on a brave facade, acting tough and daring, but deep down you wanted to survive and live on so, so badly.

He could see it in the diminishing fire of your eyes, and how the cinders of fear and regret took over. You were beginning to question yourself, to panic. And Sukuna relished in it, took all in.

“So? What will you---“

Sukuna blinked his eyes and tilted his head downward upon the feeling of someone tugging on his yukata. “Please forgive her, my lord! I am sure she is just nervous, please reconsider it!”, at the level of his feet, the old man that had delivered his sacrifice was clinging to his ankles. His nose was buried in the fabric of his clothes, and Sukuna gagged in disgust.

“Spare her foolishness! I am certain of her capability to–”

“Silence, you fool”.

The voice of the King of Curses dropped decibels lower, lacking any twisted humor and simply on point. His eyes held no emotion but irritation, his face was relaxed but his eyebrows and mouth were lined straight. Sukuna was serious.

His voice boomed through the hallroom, and you heard the way everyone dropped to their knees again. Your uncle hit his forehead on the floor with a loud slap and he shook like a leaf. A leaf to be trampled on.

Sparing you no other glance, Ryomen Sukuna threw you to the side of the room like a mere toy. Your back crashed against the wall and upon impact. Air was knocked out of your lungs once again and you howled silently in pain, unable to produce a sound. Your body coiled in itself as it attempted to reduce the pain, and you coughed furiously.

Your eyes blinked a couple of times, making feeble attempts to open fully- but all you could see was a blurry mist, in which you only figured out the characteristic pink hair and monstrous build of the demon. You noticed your uncle at his feet, without really thinking, you reached out your arm to him and stretched it wide open. It collapsed on its weight. All you could do was watch the tragedy unfold.

Sukuna kicked your uncle in the gut and he rolled back a few steps. He groaned in pain. He had no time to gather himself, for Sukuna kicked him once more. This time, in the ribs.

“You dare barge into my shrine without care, shamelessly bringing up an unsolicited offer. You were an idiot if you thought you would get something out of me. An alliance, or my ‘divine’ protection?” He sneered, “ You are the fool here. At least the girl stood up to fight, coward.”

Your uncle tried to shape words with his lips, tongue and teeth, but all that came up was splotches of blood and saliva.

“Uraume,” the Cursed King called out and from the shadows, a young man made his appearance at Sukuna's side. His odd light-blue locks cascaded down as his head was bowed, and his robes draped over his legs on the floor. His arm crossed over one of his knees, it was evident that he was awaiting orders.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Help me with dealing with this trash. I am fed up with this.”

“As you say, my lord.”

When he raised up his face, a sinister grin decorated his face. He lifted his body off the floor and dusted his clothes, making way towards the poor souls in Sukuna's hall.

“This one's for me to kill, and that girl over there-” the Cursed King pointed at you “- leave her be.”

‘Uraume’ nodded once more and muttered the loyal words. Without further haste, he launched himself to the rest of the people.

You struggled to stay conscious, the dissonance of horror enveloping you, though your senses were waning. The screams of terror, the sickening squelch of flesh and blood, the bone-chilling cracks—these sounds permeated your fading awareness. However, the overwhelming cursed energy in the air compelled you to regain consciousness. As if it kept your body awakened with its sheer presence.

Your tear-blurred vision flickered as you blinked repeatedly, attempting to adjust your eyesight to the scene before you. Regret – instant and churning painfully your heart – flooded your thoughts as you took in the gruesome scenery.

The room was a nightmarish maelstrom of chaos. Blood pooled around lifeless bodies strewn across the floor. Limbs and entrails laid in grotesque disarray. An overpowering metallic stench overtook your sense of smell, assaulting your nostrils with the unmistakable scent of iron.

You longed to turn away, to escape the horrors unfolding before you, but your body remained unable to move itself. You were far too hurt. Wide-eyed and trembling, you observed that many bodies lay headless, including your uncle's.

His severed head stared right at you, a loud but silent testament to the brutality of the carnage. The weight of the guilt sinked deep within you, the cold look on your uncle’s corpse blaming you.

Your shoulders slumped, and despair welled up, but your body lacked the strength even to shed tears. You clenched your fists so tightly that your fingernails dug into your palms, an agonizing reminder of your helplessness.

"God... please," you whispered, your voice a desperate plea in the midst of the macabre scene. The last remnants of your clan, the servants, the soldiers, your own blood—their lives had all been snuffed out.

The once-proud [L/n] clan, now reduced to a memory, stood on the precipice of extinction. You were the sole survivor, a solitary heiress to a lineage of nothingness. The weight of this grim reality pressed upon you, though it felt like mere seconds separated you from joining the departed.

Alone and vulnerable, you embraced grief and awaited death.

"Wasn't that quite refreshing, Uraume?" Sukuna's voice rang out, his presence looming closer.

"It certainly was, my lord," Uraume responded, his words dripping with sadistic amusement.

You remained ensnared in your misery, dry tears long gone, your throat raw from unspoken anguish. As Sukuna drew near, his laughter filled the air. He crouched before you, his posture languid, his gaze filled with a sadistic fascination that thrived in your torment.

“Now, what will I do with you…” A reminder that you were at the mercy of the King of Curses. As he hummed with closed eyes, searching for answer in his evil mind, his clawed-thumb supported his chin as he tilted his head, his other arms resting over his knees. He was unfazed, lacking any remorse or guilt, he was amused. He truly could not care less about what he had done.

“Ah, yes!” he clapped his hands, eyes wide open along with a bright smile. He sought to meet your gaze, but your head hung too low to notice, and without warning, he raised it with his hand. He pinched your chin, puncturing his claws in your (color) skin. Perhaps, it would leave a scar, but that would heal. Unlike your heart, which would certainly have one– a nasty, deep one, for sure. One that would never heal.

Even though he lifted your head, your gaze refused to meet his. Your (e/c) were dull and empty, your eyelids were swollen and you were crestfallen. His red-eyes went to the side. It slightly irked him, he despised the weak and that face you held was the epitome of weakness. Yet, he could put you to greater use.

“Hear me out, girl” Ryomen Sukuna spat. His eyes glinted with malevolent intent, “You haven’t been the only one to come up to my shrine and be offered as a pretty human bride. But I fear there is just no more space in my harem and I have just enough servants… But I am missing a priestess for my shrine, someone to worship me and pray in my name. A human to set as an example for the rest, a shepherd for these pathetic, weak sheep.”

His tone holds mockery and his eyes hold mischievousness, an egotistical and narcissistic abyss that wants to be filled to the brim. He is asking you to strip off any remaining pride and honor, just to serve him.

“So what do you say? Who knows… if you do your job well you might get to live a little bit more…”

The King of Curses looked back to your face, you were bewildered and your features scrunched in disgust. Of course, Sukuna knew you would hesitate, you just need a little pushing around, “And if you don’t accept my kind offer, well, I could just have my fun with you before ripping you apart and ending your miserable life.”

You gulped. The implications of his word, ‘having his fun with you’, it sent shivers down your spine. It could mean anything, and nothing good for certain. You do not wish to die such a horrible death, what choice do you have? Being used by Ryomen Sukuna like a doll would be humiliating and atrocious, but serving him like a priestess would betraying your morals– yet, you’d live.

You would live to see another day.

You grimaced, a silent tear slipping down the corner of your eye, ‘I am sorry, Mother, Father, Uncle… everyone’

“I don’t have all day, girl”

“I accept”

Sukuna’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise as a cheshire grin spread on his face. He chuckled upon your despair, what more could the weak do than take the slightest chance to be spared? If you were stronger, you could have attempted to resist him, but you were not, you were at his mercy.

“Then bow your head to your new god and present yourself”. The sentence came in the format of a command, one so powerful it instantly made your elbows seek the ground and plummeted your forehead below.

��I am [Y/n] [L/n], heir of the [L/n] Clan.”

On the back of your head you felt a sudden pressure being forced, its flat surface made you believe it was one of his feet. “That name…”

The pressure intensified as he sank his foot deeper and rubbed it against your skull, his next words only aggravated the pain “Ah, yes! The [L/N] Clan, yes, I got word I killed two of their most powerful sorcerers, the heads of the clan nonetheless. It made it all the more funny, they were weakling scum. Pathetic really how the remains of their oh so proud clan, barged into my home pleading for mercy and now I have their daughter right at my foot to serve me.” His laugh was loud and boisterous, as if someone had told him the best joke around, his four eyes holding disdain and madness. His laugh continued to echo across the room, before dying down as he inhaled and exhaled, a smaller smile painting his face.

His four eyes looked down at you.

“You are now solely [Y/n], after all, no [L/N] remains… Stand up.” he removed his foot.

He ordered you to stand up and although your knees buckled, you managed. However, you remained your head low, avoiding eye-contact.

“Well, then. You ought to begin, your first task will be to clean up this mess. Leave this place spotless.” He said without a care of the bodies, without acknowledging the value of the lives he had taken. “Uraume, after she finishes give her further instructions, show her how things work around here.”

“As you wish, my lord”. The man with light-blue hair and peculiar robes showed himself again, this time, right by your side but not at the same level, a step in front.

“And [Y/n]- I despise incompetence”. His eyes shot daggers at your form and his voice rid itself of any sarcastic or ‘humorous’ tone, it was a very real threat. You gulped and nodded, bowing your head in an instant, but something about the way he said his words unease you– the gears in your head began shifting rapidly and you were quick to reach the conclusion, for your sake.

“Y-yes, my lord.” You copied this ‘Uraume’ man, and bowed your head further. The King of Curses chuckled.

“Very good, you are a fast learner it seems.”

Without further ado, Ryomen Sukuna walked away along with Uraume, who later came back to toss you cleaning supplies, a bucket of water and a broom and a rag- he disappeared with a twisted smile too, much like his lord.

You stood still there with the broom in your hands as by your feet, the severed head of your uncle kept staring at you. You rolled the sleeves of the ruined hanfu, and began to mop.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #self insert #yandere blog #yandere writing #yandere jjk #yandere sukuna #yandere sukuna x reader

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darielivalyen · 3 months

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"Well then, allow me to introduce myself properly." The cow steps back gracefully and curtsies, a playful twinkle in her eye. "I am known by many names, but you may call me the Holy Cow. Think of me as your fairy auntie, here to offer guidance and a sprinkle of whimsy."

Everbloom is a cozy fantasy game set on the idyllic Everbloom Isle, a place where the charm of a simpler life and the warmth of a close-knit community come together. In this tranquil world, you're invited to slow down, cherish the small moments, and find joy in building connections and creating a space where everyone feels at home.

Your journey centers on the dream of opening a teahouse, an aspiration deeply influenced by your longing for independence and a meaningful life. This dream becomes a reality with the inheritance of your grandmother's house on Everbloom Isle. Here, in a setting far removed from the bustle of city life and your family's expectations, you begin the delicate process of building a new life for yourself.

Are you ready to leave behind the monotony and dullness of daily life and build the teahouse of your dreams on Everbloom Isle?

Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

Choose your appearance and personality.

Romance or befriend one of three distinctive characters: a brave knight seeking a new purpose, a mischievous forest guardian who finds joy in life's lighter moments, or an enigmatic elf with a complex past, seeking solace and clarity on Everbloom Isle.

Create and customize your own teahouse.

Cultivate and enhance your grandmother's garden.

Explore Everbloom Isle in search of unique tea saplings.

Interact with a host of quirky characters, from the whimsical Holy Cow and her not-at-all terrible fish choir to giant turtles, winged wolves, and enigmatic fernlings.

Follow a dynamic quest from the Holy Cow that will challenge you to build friendships, honor your grandmother's legacy, and expand your collection of unique teas.

Sir Castian/Dame Castilla Honeycutt

Personality: brave, honorable, old-fashioned, bashful. Blurb: In a land where swords are replaced by teacups, Cast(), a knight accustomed to battles and quests, struggles to find his/her role. Everbloom Isle, with its whimsical ways, challenges him/her to redefine what it means to be a hero. Can you help him/her weave his/her knightly virtues into the fabric of your new home?

Narciso/Narissa Roseblade

Personality: mischievous, lighthearted, adventurous, non-committal. Blurb: Nar()'s presence on Everbloom Isle is like a breeze through the Elder Tree's leaves – light, unpredictable, and full of life. His/her playful antics and seemingly carefree nature captivate those around him/her. Yet, there's a depth in his/her eyes suggesting more than just whimsy. Will you be the one who figures out what really inspires his/her eternal dance through the grove?

Ideru/Ideri Nightingale

Personality: calculating, composed, solitary, adaptable. Blurb: Ider() arrives at Everbloom Isle cloaked in an aura of intrigue, his/her quiet nature standing in stark contrast to the isle’s vibrancy. Amidst the isle's welcoming community, his/her enigmatic presence stirs a sense of curiosity. Will you be the one who digs into his/her mysterious past and discovers what brings him/her to Everbloom?

FORUM | DEMO | TUMBLR | PATREON

#Everbloom #darielivalyen #hosted games #interactive fiction #cozy #if #cozy fantasy #new project #interactive novel #synopsis #announcment #choicescript

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discordsmuse · 7 months

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Discordsmuse Masterlist

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Hello friends! Finally putting together a masterlist to make it easier for you guys to find all my fanfics here since I only post to AO3!

These will be organized by fandom and character.

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Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin

dance me to the end of love, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Halsin admit to their feelings post-Moonrise and fuck on a balcony.

Silence, NSFW/18+ : Fem!Tav and Halsin fuck in a closet

Do Unto Others, NSFW/18+ : Fem!Tav wants to give Halsin some attention and convinces him to let her be the giver for once.

Enver Gortash

body more than just a flesh, you can sell it for success, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav is invited to dinner with the Archduke and things get a little heated.

i will give you all that you need, NSFW/18+: Sequel to the above, Fem!Tav and Gortash bathe together before Enver gets a little handsy.

gracious men are those who suffer, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Enver w/ a free use kink.

legacy with no memory, NSFW/18+: Fem!Durge and Enver Gortash w/a pregnancy kink

I wanna know my god, At least enough to fear Her, NSFW/18+: Fem!Durge and Gortash have a lil bit of hate sex

Gale Dekarios

be my nightfire, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav catches Gale mid-alone time. Feelings and sex ensue.

Abdirak

sanctify you bedsheets with the sweat along your hips, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav is fascinated by Abdirak and nervously asks him to teach her about Loviatar.

Raphael

delightful little detour, NSFW/18+: Canon rewrite for what happens when Fem!Tav tells Raphael he's bad at sex.

Let the Dream Begin, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael Phantom of the Opera AU, slowburn

Office Hours, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav/Raphael College AU

Rolan

i wanna have a home, i wanna share it, NSFW/18+: Fem!Tav and Rolan get together post-saving the tieflings from moonrise.

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Pirates of the Caribbean

Hector Barbossa

The Pirate Lord, NSFW/18+: Barbossa/Reader post-Elizabeth being kinged.

All That Glitters, NSFW/18+: Longform Barbossa/Reader canon rewrite pre-CotBP

Liar's Bet, NSFW/18+: Longform Barbossa/Reader canon rewrite during CotBP and DMC

feel the edges start to burn, NSFW/18+: Barbossa/Reader where reader is friends w/Carina

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Harry Potter

Severus Snape

isn't it lovely (all alone), NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader closet sex

no death in rebirth, NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader longform amnesia oneshot

Brought to Life, NSFW/18+: Snape/Reader marauder's era classmates to lovers lol

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Dead by Daylight

Canon/Canon

Contention, NSFW/18+: Ace/Meg against a tree hatesex

Breaking Point, NSFW/18+: Megmillan first time

It's Alright, Teen/16+: The survivors and killers recover post-entity

Anna/The Huntress

Not so much taming as growing accustomed, Mature/16+, Huntress/Reader friendship to lovers

Herman Carter/The Doctor

Untethered, NSFW/18+, The Doctor/Reader where reader annoying him but in the fun, bratty way

❀•°❀°•❀

Resident Evil Village

Karl Heisenberg

Business Partners with Benefits, NSFW/18+: Heisenberg/Reader where reader is Moreau's niece

❀•°❀°•❀

Spider Man

Dr. Otto Octavius/Doc Ock

Working Overtime, NSFW/18+: Otto/Reader where reader is his lab assistant

Bedside Manner, NSFW/18+: Otto/Reader where reader is Doc Ock's lover

❀•°❀°•❀

Labyrinth

Jareth the Goblin King

Midsummer, NSFW/18+: Jareth/Reader at the midsummer fae ball

don't leave me lonely, NSFW/18+: Jareth/Reader sequel to Midsummer

❀•°❀°•❀

The band Ghost

Papa Emeritus IV/Cardinal Copia

Better Than, NSFW/18+: Copia/Reader where he's a little insecure about Terzo being better than him

❀•°❀°•❀

Dracula

Dracula (lol)

Nice Costume, NSFW/18+: Dracula/Reader in a modern setting at a party

❀•°❀°•❀

Our Flag Means Death

Israel Hands

we do get desperate, now and again, Mature/16+: Fem!Reader/Izzy hurt/comfort unrequited love.

i wanna be yours, Mature/18+: Fem!Reader/Izzy first time together

❀•°❀°•❀

The Quarry (2022)

Travis Hackett/Laura Kearney

• fell in love with the fever, Explicit/18+: Travis and Laura are forced to spend some time together 6 months after the incident.

❀•°❀°•❀

This list will grow/change as I write more :D Thanks for reading!

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evanox · 9 months

Note

On a scale from king/queen of the party to shy awkward wallflower, where would you personally place a good match for each of the M4 of Last Legacy when it comes to a partner? Or what kind of traits do you think, a suitable partner might need?

{HELLO sorry I never responded to your requests I kinda completely gave up on LL BUT I was trying to find something and saw this was already fully written and it was a shame to leave it rotting here}

ooo that's a fun q thank you!! I hope I understood it right!!

m.list

Felix

Felix himself has always been a wallflower at parties. Sure, as a toddler, he'd eat up the praises of nobles as his fathers showed off the gifted kid they were so proud of, but he tired out quickly so Florian would rush him to bed before little Fe got too cranky and his magic started going haywire.

He still doesn't enjoy the balls—the nobility's massive egos far too stifling, only rivaled by the clothes his father made him wear.

Even in a modern setting, he wouldn't enjoy parties that are too loud and crowded. Felix might just hide in the kitchen to read a book or find the host's cat, only emerging from the shadows when it's time for truth or dare (he always picks dare, and it's beginning to get scary for others because there's almost nothing he'd say no to).

Felix finds himself more drawn to other wallflowers; even if you don't talk, you can at least look at each other with understanding before moving on.

It's great to have a partner who understands when Felix needs out. Hell, he might actually enjoy the party better with an introverted/awkward partner—it's the perfect excuse to grill any stuck-up nobles if they so much as dare to tease you if you stumble over your words or forget the nobility's strict codes of etiquette; only Felix gets to tease you (as long as you can take it), and only because he finds you cute.

Then you can both grab a snack or a drink and quietly slip out of the crowded ballroom to tour the gardens together. If the music is loud enough that you can still hear it faintly outside, he might just ask you for a dance amongst the roses with the moon as your lone witness.

"How un-noble of you, Felix!" you would tease when Felix leads you off the paved path and towards the arching willow where you'll be perfectly hidden from any other stragglers, then Felix would laugh softly before he presses you against the tree and kisses you until you're ready to be portalled into bed (for sleep or for other purposes, none of my business).

However, I wouldn't say Felix can't appreciate a life-of-the-party partner! After all, it is only a matter of time before an extrovert comes to claim their introvert, thus maintaining balance in this world.

Your joy might even become so contagious that Felix can't help but join, especially if it's too unorthodox for the nobility, leaving a string of offended gasps and/or disapproving scowls behind you—it's all the more reason to love you. You can swing and sway all over the ballroom and cause all sorts of mischief and pranks together, as long as you can respect when he needs to just go home.

Anisa

Attending balls is a minor part of her job, whether she's escorting a VIP or standing guard. From a work perspective, a more extroverted partner might be more convenient for making connections and entertaining guests. Anisa, however, doesn't really have a preference.

An extroverted partner is fun in the way that, when Anisa is standing stiffly in the ballroom by the buffet or the grand staircase, trying to keep up appearances (or even in a modern setting, fussing after everyone in the party), you can help her slowly but surely relax and break out of her shell.

Once Anisa picks up the vibe, she does a 180 and lets out the party animal (though this one's nowhere near as wild as Sage); you can see it in the way her movements are much more relaxed, how she throws her head back and laughs so loudly at the dumbest of jokes, and how she spares a dance for whoever asks—that is until she finds you amongst the crowds and pulls you in to dance the rest of the night away.

Just promise you won't let her overindulge in the wine or the punch (that Sage might've dabbled in) lest she starts acting too inappropriately on the job. You know she can't part too long from the buffet.

An introverted partner is great, too! Anisa won't force you into attending parties with her because it's work after all, but if you still want to come along, she'll take care of you throughout the event, continuously checking over you.

Oh, to have Anisa hold your hand and press a tender kiss to your knuckles as she softly asks, "Are you okay, love?"

I guess you would activate that loophole where it's like, she might not usually go out of her way to have fun at events, but seeing you wilting by the corner will push Anisa to encourage you to have some fun with her, as long as you're up for it; she'd love to pull you in for a dance, your hand held high in hers, and proudly show you off as her lover to everyone.

And if you don't want to dance, well, there's always the buffet! There are so many foods you can try, and Anisa can't wait to hand/spoonfeed them to you.

Sage

He's drawn to the life of the party like a moth to a flame. Sage might be quite the tease, but he still loves being kept on his toes; having someone who can match his pace might even help him burn out all that extra energy.

The loud, crammed taverns are where he thrives, and a partner who enjoys them too adds to the fun. He'll pull you for a dance once the bard picks up a jolly tune, sweeping you off your feet and hopping from table to table as people watch in awe how he swings you with such ease.

Hell, you could sweep him off his feet; he definitely won't complain.

That is not to say Sage would push away the wallflower! He'd try to pull you from where you cling to the wall—wouldn't you rather have fun than look so awfully glum?

Once you explain that you're not necessarily miserable, but the chaos of the dance floor just isn't your scene, he nods in understanding. With a wink and a swish of his tail, he asks you to keep your eyes on him as he blends in with the dancing crowds. You can join in whenever you wish, but until then, you're more than welcome to enjoy the view.

Your discomfort immediately triggers his protective streak, and he'll keep an arm up so people won't keep bumping into you as he escorts you out of the crowded tavern once you call it a night.

If you're attending a party at Fathom or whatever fancy palace for whatever fancy reason, Sage would gladly pull you away from the crowds and the noise to explore all the secret passages and chambers. Hey, you could even find an empty room or a closet for seven minutes of heaven ;)

Rime

Like Anisa, I don't think Rime has a preference. I'd say he might have been partial to a life-of-the-party sort of character—repressed choir boy craving an outlet that he is—but Rime did date Felix, who isn't particularly social. That is not to say that Felix and Rime didn't know how to have fun! I just think Felix's way of 'letting go' is more so through mischief and less through partying or socializing.

So in conclusion, Rime doesn't care how extroverted or introverted you are as long as you know how to have a good time.

If you'd known Rime before as the Starsworn Captain, you might've taken him for a reserved prude, but unlike Anisa, he doesn't really need you coaxing him into being more 'out-there'; he'll compete with you over it. Want to ask him for a dance? He's already eyeing you up and down, looking like he could almost eat you up.

Even on the dancefloor, he'd be looking for ways to fluster you.

Recall how if you choose to remain silent during the first confrontation in the Felix route, Rime would wonder why Felix would choose someone so boring over him? I think, if you're more of a wallflower, Rime might tease you a bit especially if he's interested in you but doesn't know you all that well—not to tear you down but it's his... unconventional way of trying to coax you into coming out of your shell.

#rime solano varela #felix iskandar escellun #sage lesath #anisa anka #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #felix escellun #last legacy sage #last legacy rime #last legacy felix #last legacy anisa #sage lesath x mc #sage lesath x reader #anisa x mc #felix escellun x reader #rime x reader #rime x mc #last legacy headcanons

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tdp-prism-event-2024 · 2 months

Text

Trees to meet you! TDP Prism event mods here! Mods: (@dragonnguard, @no-cinnamon-for-synonym, and @beautifulterriblequeen)

As we’re all waiting with bated breath for the first hint of Season 6 news, we thought to ourselves, “Selves, this is a great time to celebrate our own imaginations as a fandom.” So we’re hosting an event, and you’re invited to share your creations!

TDP Prism is a celebration of transformation and inspiration, and all ideas that spring from canon are welcome. In the same way that extraordinary means “outside the ordinary,” extracanon just means “outside canon.” We are looking for works which have been transformed by you, the artists and creators, leaving your own fingerprints on something you love. You’re part of the process, and we’re glad you’re in this fandom with us!

The TDP Prism event will offer seven weekly prompts, beginning the week of March 10th (see schedule below).

We’re so excited to share your art, fanfic, cosplay, headcanons, crack ideas, AUs, incorrect quotes, AMVs, napkin sketches, crossovers, worst timelines, and more! And if someone else’s tagged work bounces a new ray of light off of you and inspires you to create in response, we’ll gladly share that too!

Make sure to use the event hashtag: #tdpprism2024

Prompts:

March 10: Twist - opportunity, luck, chaos, freedom, failure

March 17: Chains - legacy, imprisonment, guilt, suffering, connection

March 24: Dance - hands, journeying, lead/follow, pattern, partners

March 31: Strive - hope, longing, challenge, heart, daring

April 7: Resist - struggle, sacrifice, corruption, secret, fascination

April 14: Reward - prize, karma, success, gifts, power

April 21: Tomorrow - destiny, light, dawn, determination, growth

More Info:

We will try to reblog all event-tagged posts made during the event, but feel free to tag us on your post as well!

You can also share links to works hosted on other platforms (ao3, YouTube, Insta, bsky, etc.) with us!

Our ask box is open for any questions you have!

#tdp #the dragon prince #thedragonprince #rayla #callum #claudia #viren #ezran #zym #soren #aaravos #janai #amaya #terry

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

Text

Madame Butterfly

twirls my hair at Man in Red (as a fan of the masquerade of the red death esp the flim w Vincent Price! i care about him sooooo much)

Rated T | Warnings: None

When the Red Butterfly, Madame Butterfly they called her, passed away the Man in Red saw it as an opportunity to collect more souls. More worshippers begging for his enlightenment.

What he had not expected was to see you, the successor to the Madame Butterfly. A gentle blue butterfly dancing upon the stage, the wave of calm and dream-like power freeing your people from his influence. Two fans, one recognized to be Red Butterfly's fan.

Seems you were her student as you dance the same way she did though yours has slight differences.

The first invasion was unsuccessful, he was caught by surprise. Then he received a letter written by you, a meeting to arrange peace. A naive notion! Never will there be peace so long as he does not own everything.

Including you.

A rare blue butterfly, one who dances in red to attract but soothes in blue. Your soul is bright and untouched, it beckons those who yearn for peace. He wants to rip your wings and cripple you, make you reliant on his embrace.

“Surely there is another way to resolve this?” You say while remaining seated in front of him.

“No. Surrender or die.” Firm as he stood at the opposite end of the table, “Your predecessor believed these humans are worth everything including her immorality, do not be as foolish as her.”

“There is nothing foolish about loving humans. We are to care for and nurture them. To help them when the time comes to pass on.”

“They are to nourish us!”

You look sad, and hurt, “Have you forgotten your humanity?”

His hand slams on the table, “There was no such thing. I am eternal as you unless you plan to relinquish your immorality for the livestock.”

You stand, “True immorality is forged by the legacy left by our hands, not by stealing other lives to prolong ours.”

The Man in Red swears he can see her in you, see the one who he wished to remain by his side. Yet, the Madame Butterfly gave her heart to a mortal who did not understand what he did not deserve! His eye is cold and piercing as he looks at you.

“Her fan.”

You look at it as you grip it, “Michiko… She is always by my side with this.”

The Man in Red scoffs, “Human ideology. We both know she is gone.” Cold, “You don't have to follow in her footsteps.” Moving around the table to be close to you, “Join me.”

“You hurt humans.” Shaking your head a bit, “We should be caring for, not hurting them.”

He invades your space as he leads in, “Join me, (Name), for their sake. Kneel or your pets can become part of my offering tree.”

You gasp, the offering tree that drains humans slowly of everything, body, soul, memories— It is cruel and used to empower your kind. “How can you be so cruel!?”“Cruelty? My little butterfly, cruelty is prolonging our war. You can continue to dance for your pets so long as you worship me.”

#idv #reader insert #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #naib x you #identity v naib #naib subedar x reader #naib x reader #naib subedar x you #naib subedar #identity v mercenary #idv mercenary #identity v x you #idv x you

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dilf-din · 4 months

Text

Tethered (to The Story We Must Tell)

For @therebelcaptainnetwork Secret Santa

WC: 3400

A/N: Merry Rebelcaptain-mas @mistressorinoco !! I hope you like this glimpse into a magical world with everyone’s favorite tragic heroes!

It was a quiet life Jyn had made for herself, tucked into the whispering woods, far from the irksome hustle and bustle of the nearby village. Nothing greeted her in the morning except for the sun and the birds as she floated to the well to draw her water each day. No other beings disturbed her as she foraged in the afternoon, finding herbs to dry on her windowsill, save the rabbits and squirrels whose noses would twitch in a secret language she had come to understand over the years. They were all she had to talk to after the loss of her parents left her achingly alone in the world, with not much else to do than listen to the Earth as She groaned. None of the townspeople would come within twenty feet of her on the days she had to venture in for the supplies she could not grow on her own. It was just her and the forest, and she liked it that way.

The truth was, nobody liked witches. But she had always thought that maybe they just didn’t understand them. Her father was one of the most powerful warlocks of their time. Jyn had spent every second she could in his presence, soaking up his knowledge. She would peek over the bannister at night as he communed with other powerful men of the great age, straining her ears to pick up bits and pieces of their hushed conversations. Galen Erso was well regarded across the realm for his deep rooted wisdom and power. With him gone, she knew she had to carry out his legacy. Mix balms and potions to heal the sick, care for the spirit of the wood, bless the grounds to yield plentiful crops.

For months now, she had been so busy preparing for autumn that she almost forgot about the prophecy, the legacy of the Erso family that her father had told her of long ago. One day, their magic would save the entire kingdom. One day a man would show up on her doorstep and beg her for help. She just didn’t expect that day to be today.

Her focus was on the pot in front of her, simmering over the fire. A rich, earthen smell filled every corner of the room, breathing life into the old beams. Jyn’s nimble hands were carefully dosing out dried petals and crushed up stems to add to the bubbling mixture when her cat started to weave itself through her legs, getting tangled in her skirts, and mewling loudly.

“Alright, alright. One second,” she sounded annoyed, but when she lifted her eyes, a light caught her eye from the other side of the room.

She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and rushed to the old crystal ball that stayed perched on its ornately carved base in the main room. Deep red rubies decorated the solid gold pillar showing long forgotten constellations charted out by the witches of old. The very center showed the phases of the moon carved out in opal, an homage to their guiding light. Jyn had used the ball from time to time when she was in search of a hard to find root as her father had taught her— and she certainly didn’t use it to get tangled up in the affairs of men, so this would be the first time it had shown her something unprompted.

Jyn watched the orb in front of her with an amused smile twitching at her lips. Deep smooth glass revealed hazy images of a dark haired man scrambling over roots and briars, falling several times in quick succession only to get up and keep going. He looked panicked, but determined. Competent but a wild card. He was following the path that was marked out for him long ago, he just didn’t know it yet. Outside her cabin, a strong wind swept through the trees, rustling the leaves loudly, signaling the man’s impending approach. Chills danced up her own arms in anticipation, and beside her on the table, an inky black cat hopped up to stare into the ball with deep green eyes mirroring Jyn’s own.

“So it begins, Pollux.”

——

Pounding. His head was pounding in sync with his steps. Each heavy footfall echoed through his body and made his head ring. For a moment, Cassian was afraid he would pass out. He didn’t have time for that though. Lord Vader’s ghouls were on his tail. Cassian was zigging and zagging through the trees, trying his best to shake the ghastly figures. Occasionally, he would hear their groans and see a flash of white, and it was like a fresh wave of adrenaline in his veins to keep going.

They weren’t dangerous from a distance. In fact, they were a lousy shot. But he didn’t want to know what would happen if he got within arm’s reach of them. Long slender fingers jutted out of the tattered sleeves of stark white robes. They were a gruesome mix of bone and metal, the result of a dark magic no sensible person would ever tamper with.

Cassian saw a clearing ahead and pushed into one final sprint. The ghouls came from several directions at once, screeching and wailing as he stumbled out of the tree line, tripping over one last root. He rolled to his back to accept his fate, having spent every drop of strength to make it this far. Cassian clamped his eyes shut and waited, but was surprised after a few moments that nothing happened. He tentatively peeked to see the crowd of ghostly figures pounding against an invisible wall that he happened to be on the other side of. His head swiveled to see an entire circle of pale blue light that sparked bright cerulean as they beat their eldritch fists against it, their distorted voices muffled by the barrier.

They were deterred almost instantly, fading back into the tree line while Cassian took the time to catch his breath. He had been chased for several kilometers and feared that his lungs would always feel that stab of fire when he breathed too deeply.

Having been given time for his thoughts to settle, he frantically patted his body until he felt the familiar lump in his pocket and gave another sigh of relief. With everything on his person intact and accounted for, he really started to take in his surroundings. He had landed next to a short stone well when he fell. Any farther, and he probably would’ve busted his head against the jagged base. And what the heck was that blue thing that stopped the ghoul troopers? He furrowed his brow and scrambled to his feet, slowly approaching the edge of the property. Cassian stuck a tentative hand out and was met with nothing but the chilled fall air. No pushback, no wall of energy, just a light peaceful breeze.

The cottage behind him stood humbly, weathered boards and a shingled roof not even cresting the nearby treetops. Vines of deep green ivy climbed two trellises on each wall, mirroring each other. Tendrils of heart shaped leaves spilled over the awning covering the door like a tuft of bangs, making the house seem almost human. The wide mouth of the door was stained a deep brown and hung on brass hinges so tarnished they were a dull, ashen color. The back of the house was almost flush with the treeline, leaves and branches seemed to hold on to it tightly, as if it belonged there. It was perfectly nestled in the wild of things, set apart from the rest of the kingdom.

A gust of wind brought a cocktail of new smells to his nose. Sweet things, earthen things, ancient things. Cassian took a deep breath. Something about the energy there felt like a lightning bolt through his bones, addicting, unfamiliar, and yet, like coming home, a feeling he had searched for his whole life. Along his arms, the hairs stood on end with anticipation as he approached the door, a hesitant knuckle reaching out to knock.

He gave three sharp raps and waited. Though there was no peephole, he couldn’t shake the feeling of having eyes on him, almost as if the trees had their guard up, ready to strike should he try anything with whoever stood on the other side of the door.

An eternity passed in the seconds he waited to hear the click of the lock, followed by the muffled sound of several chains and latches, before it finally swung open to reveal a girl. She came up to about his shoulder with green eyes wilder than the forest engulfing them. She had layers of lace and other thin fabrics covering her. Each piece turned into long, flowing sleeves or skirts of a different length cinched with a belt and a leather vest atop of stockings and knee high boots. Almost every finger and knuckle was adorned in silver rings of varying thicknesses, and on her neck sat a collection of necklaces on chains of different lengths, but the one that caught his eye, was a pale white crystal hanging low on her torso. It was shaped like a tear drop.

“Hello, Cassian Andor. I have long awaited your arrival,” she spoke with an almost sultry voice and a sly smile.

Suddenly, his mouth was dry and his palms were wet. Cassian was worried that if he spoke, it wouldn’t come out as more than a squeak. How did she know his name? What did she mean she had been waiting for him?

Thankfully, she ushered him inside before he found the nerve to speak. He took a second to take in the large open space they now stood in while she re-fastened all of the latches. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves holding all sorts of odds and ends. Stacks of books, magnifying glasses and other gadgets, jars that held what he hoped were animal bones, more books, candles, and all sorts of loose papers. From the age of the cottage and the wear of the leather spines closest to him, he guessed it did not all belong to her. The living area was connected to the open kitchen with a staircase and small storage room at the back of the building. A wide window over the sink shed hazy light on bundles of herbs and flowers carefully wrapped and hung to dry in the sun. Every wall was wood, save for the back one adjacent to the sink that housed the large stone hearth currently holding a large pot over lazy orange flames.

Cassian recognized it as the same smell from outside, and wondered what it was that she was making. A black cat appeared seemingly out of nowhere and rubbed his leg, purring loudly.

“I’m sure you must have a million questions,” Jyn continued, turning to face him after drawing the curtains in the den, “And it is my goal to have a million answers. Shall we begin? My name is Jyn. Jyn Erso.”

Cassian was intrigued by her eccentricity. Even now, she was continuing over to the hearth to tend to the pot on the fire as if his coming there had interrupted her daily routine.

He watched her move with precision and intent. She never hesitated, never second guessed herself. She was everything he wasn’t, and he began to feel quite small.

“What brought you to me?” she asked over her shoulder.

Cassian took a few steps forward, being careful to not trip over the very affectionate cat that was now glued to his side.

He tried to collect his thoughts in a coherent way, knowing he needed to do his best to make his story a believable one. He prayed she would have pity on his urgency and point him in the right direction.

“I work for the king. Well, not exactly. I just work in the stable. But the king, see, he’s sick, so his council sent me to find a sorcerer. They said there was a man in the woods who could heal him. Do you know who they’re talking about?”

Jyn smiled at the floor, a sad smile full of longing, and turned to face Cassian, “They sent you in search of my father.”

“Is he here?”

“He died last winter.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” his voice came out thick with sincerity. He barely knew this girl but he could see how deeply the loss had struck her. Cassian hesitated before asking, “Do you think you could help us?”

“Of course,” she almost scoffed, “He taught me everything he knew. Well, close to everything. Anything he didn’t have time to is written down in one of these journals,” she gestured to the walls lined with books. “I’ve read them all cover to cover. Tell me what troubles your king.”

Cassian leaned against the kitchen counter, and the cat hopped up beside him, “He’s being poisoned by Lord Vader. He’s been deteriorating, wasting away. He fell ill a fortnight ago, but none of our best doctors have been able to cure him. We don’t think he has much time left. It’s like Vader is draining the life out of him somehow. His name is the only world he’s spoken in days.”

Jyn listened intently as Cassian spoke of the king’s mind and body slipping away from him. The table of her mind had journals and papers spread out as she combed through her archives to figure out what kind of enchantment he might be under. She could feel the warmth of her father’s hands on her shoulders, and for a second, she almost reached out to grab one.

“And they gave me this,” Cassian paused to fish something out of his pocket, offering a white teardrop shaped crystal identical to the one around Jyn’s neck, “They said it would lead me here, and it did. I’m not sure how to explain it. Its like I could hear it—“

“Talking to you,” Jyn finished with a smile on her lips. Her arms wound around her own neck and she undid the clasp to the necklace with ease. She plucked the other half from Cassian’s hand and held the two pieces together. They fit seamlessly and began emitting a pale blue glow, as it being one again filled the stone with some sort of power.

“The Kyber heart has been passed through my family for generations. This half belonged to my mother. She gifted it to the king many years ago as a blessing of protection. His taking it off is what led to his mind being poisoned. The two halves long to be together. Though they may separate for a time, they will always come back as one,” she finished softly, this time looking deeply into Cassian’s dark eyes.

“The other half belonged to your father,” he said gently, not breaking the gaze, and Jyn nodded.

“Keep it,” he smiled, reaching his hand forward to close her fist around it, but she shook her head.

“It’s yours now. It chooses its master. Some people are said to be born with Kyber in their own hearts. The stones are drawn to certain auras. They particularly like those who possess great courage within their hearts,” she explained as she reached around his neck to fasten the necklace.

A heavy weight settled in his chest, something akin to honor. The moment was quickly broken by the cat yowling loudly in Jyn’s direction.

“I know,” she said to the small creature as she smiled and leaned down for it to head butt her, “This is Castor. He was my mother’s cat. It seems he approves of you as well. She died when I was very young. I don’t see him come out often.”

Cassian smiled and reached out a hand for him to sniff while another cat hopped up beside Jyn. Sleek and black, identical to Castor.

“This is Pollux. He belonged to my father.”

Identical crystals. Identical cats. All this talk of fate had Cassian questioning his role in this story. If what she was saying was true, the gravity of this place was always going to find him. He would always find himself back in Jyn’s orbit. He so desperately wanted that to be true.

Against all odds and presumptions, Cassian began to feel at home, in these walls breathing the same air as her. He tried to shove it down, but it was like a geyser erupting in his stomach, a warm feeling spreading through his limbs. He had never believed in fate, but she spoke as if the cosmos were pulling the strings to his life and led him here, and it had never sounded more convincing.

He couldn’t let himself get caught up in this, not yet.

“Now what?” he asked, “I don’t mean to sound in a hurry, but I’m afraid the King hasn’t got much time.”

“Now, we search for the spell to break the enchantment,” she crossed the room to a stack of journals and plucked them from the shelf, “Luckily for you, I remember reading about this very thing recently. Tell me, Cassian Andor, is this a coincidence as well?” she spoke as if she could read his rambling thoughts and a flush crept into his cheeks.

Her lips held a knowing smile as she cracked open the journal on top, an aged leather with thick gold threading around the border.

“What we’re looking for is called ruptor vitis, more commonly known as a weed killer,” she explained as she began to thumb through pages, handing Cassian the next journal in the stack to aid in the search.

Pages turning, fire crackling, cats purring. Their eyes and hands worked quickly to find the information they needed. It was a race against time. The old grandfather clack across the room ticked ominously as they searched.

Cassian saw recipes for healing potions, hexes for confusion, spells for protection. A quick scan of that particular page confirmed that was what he encountered when he stumbled onto the property. They were designed to keep out everyone but the pure of heart. Another odd tug in his chest as he continued to cautiously approach the idea that he might be more than a lowly stable boy. The gem around his neck chose him. Castor chose him. The king’s court chose him to be the messenger.

All his life he had been nameless. All his life he had been alone. Now he was standing in a warm cabin a mere two feet from someone who looked at him like he was worth something. She said his name with confidence. She listened intently as he spoke, taking in every detail, every stumble, every hesitation in his breathing. His apprehension had been palpable, but he could feel it melting away.

A few more flips, and he saw himself staring at the words Ruptor Vitis in thick, neat writing.

“Jyn,” he called, drawing her attention to the aging book in front of him.

She scanned it with careful eyes, her lips parting almost imperceptibly as she read each line to herself. With a nod, she closed the journal and tucked it under her arm. She snapped her fingers, and the fire in the hearth snuffed out, a wispy trail of smoke drifted into the open room while she grabbed her cloak from a hook by the door.

“We’ll need to pick up a few things in town, but I know how to make it work,” she explained, tucking the book into a basket along with a few candles.

Cassian stood frozen, not knowing what to do next.

“Are you ready?” she reached out to give his hand a squeeze, and he felt that aforementioned courage flood into his veins. Suddenly it all became crystal clear.

He nodded.

“Lead the way,” she smiled.

And something in him must have changed, because when Cassian pushed the door open with no hesitation to trek back out into the forest, and the kyber around his neck hummed a melody outside of time, he didn’t stop to question why a powerful enchantress like Jyn would defer to someone like him.

#rebelcaptainsecretsanta #the Rebelcaptain network #rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fic #rcss 2023 #jyn x cassian #cassian x jyn

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delicatelysublimeforester · 2 months

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Sustainable Footsteps

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berrypockets · 2 months

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Voiceless: Threads of Eternity | The True and Final End: A Shelby Tale

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Tommy's gaze lingered on the picturesque scene unfolding in the backyard of Arrow House. The twins, their laughter dancing in the air, chased the playful dog, creating a symphony of joy that echoed through the Shelby home. The emerald hues of the grass and the blue sky framed the tableau of familial bliss.

Under the comforting shade of the ancient tree, Y/N sat cradling their baby girl. A soft breeze whispered through the leaves, and Tommy, captivated by the serenity of the moment, approached with an affectionate smile.

"Good day, love?" he inquired, his voice a gentle melody.

Y/N, her eyes alight with love, responded with an array of expressive glances, each nuanced response a testament to the unspoken language they had crafted over the years. Tommy, the master interpreter, chuckled at the silent dialogue that unfolded between them.

"How were the boys?" he continued, the inquiry met with a bemused arch of Y/N's eyebrow – a maternal warning that hinted at the twins' mischief.

With a loving sigh, Tommy scooped their baby girl into his arms, her gurgles of delight filling the air. The twins, catching wind of their father's arrival, sprinted towards the couple, their laughter echoing in the garden.

Tommy, an adoring father, marveled at the bond the twins shared with their baby sister. The boys, already experts in deciphering their mother's expressions, were competing for the coveted position of cradling their sister. Y/N, with a simple glance, asserted her authority, and the twins fell in line, eagerly awaiting their turn.

The Shelby family, a portrait of harmony, strolled through the vibrant gardens. Tommy, his heart brimming with gratitude, held their daughter in one arm and Y/N in the other. The twins, walking ahead, reveled in their roles as protectors of their sister and guardians of the family legacy.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow upon the Shelby estate, Tommy and Y/N, accompanied by the laughter of their children, continued to weave the tapestry of their enduring love – a love that had weathered storms, conquered demons, and emerged stronger, binding the Shelby saga with threads of eternity.

And so, in the heart of Small Heath, where the echoes of the Peaky Blinders' past lingered, the Shelby's embraced a future forged in love, resilience, and the boundless possibilities of a life well-lived.

The true and final end.

Voiceless Masterlist | Threads of Eternity Masterlist

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materassassino · 7 months

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Patrimony

From the DinLuke Server prompt of the same word.

Luke reaches the end of his tether, and Ahsoka gets yelled at, as she deserves.

------

Luke feels out of his depth.

Everyone seems to know more than him.

“We didn’t used to do it like that,” Cal says, frowning.

“Oh, Kanan told me it was done this way,” Ezra says, flippant.

“That’s not how the Jedi teach,” Ahsoka says, disapproving.

“I don’t remember anything about that,” Reva says, dismissive.

“I DON’T THINK THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN APPROVED OF,” Gungi says, uncertain.

“Are you sure you want to do it that way?” Ezra asks, wincing, and Luke has had it.

He likes to think he’s left his rashness behind. He’s matured, he’s fully mastered his emotions. But even his patience can’t last forever.

He whips around to Ezra, shoulders set, face a mask of fury.

“You run this karking Order then!” he snarls. “If you’re all so much wiser than I am! Run it yourselves!”

And he storms off, blood hammering in his ears. He’s surprised he only said that, and not something so much worse, which was exactly what he wanted to. He stomps away from the little compound they’ve made, their temporary temple, and out into the streets of Sundari.

His boots pound the pavement as he tries to get as far away as possible, and Mandalorians quickly get out of his way, staring at him as he passes. He doesn’t care. All he can hear in his head is reproach, remonstration, criticism, dismissal. What do you even think you’re doing? the voices in his head demand, jeering at him. You don’t know anything!

Of course he doesn’t know anything, he thinks bitterly. He’s found himself in one of the little parks, a residential area, and he throws himself beneath a tree that still needs time to grow. No one told him anything. His masters were forging a weapon, not a Jedi. He didn’t even know what a Jedi was until he was nineteen! And they had the gall to call him the last, as if there weren’t people out there, people the same as him, who could have guided him from the start. They didn’t even attempt to remake the Order, and now they come here, judging every wrong step he takes without offering to teach him the dance in the first place.

He refuses to meditate, even though that would be the correct, Jedi thing to do. But he doesn’t want to be a Jedi just then. He doesn’t. He wants to drop everything and just run to the farthest corner of the galaxy where no one has even heard of the Force. Sithspit, even Tatooine would be better than this, right now.

What is he even trying to do, anyway? Maybe the Order would be better off dead and buried. What would the galaxy even gain, if he succeeded?

“May I sit?”

Luke hears the silver bells in the Force, their resonant chimes, and he scowls.

“What do you want?” he demands, not even looking up.

Ahsoka, wisely, chooses not to sit, because Luke would simply stand and then march off again.

“To discuss, perhaps,” she says, mild and supercilious and it grates on Luke’s nerves like metal scraping against metal, the hulls of two ships colliding. He surges to his feet, and her height doesn’t intimidate him – frankly, he’s faced taller, and meaner, and uglier.

“What’s to discuss? How I’m destroying everything? Ruining the legacy of the Jedi?!”

“Rage doesn’t—”

“Shut up, Ahsoka!” he snaps, and she does, her mouth clamping shut like he’s cast a spell on her. “You’re the worst of them all! Always needling, always criticising! You waltz in here whenever you want, proclaiming you’re not even a Jedi, and then proceed to tear everything apart because it’s not to your exacting, aloof standards!”

Luke breathes deeply through his nose, and instantly regrets everything he’s said. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I’m tired,” he says, fighting to keep his voice steady, “of everything I do being worthless.”

Ahsoka is quiet. “Luke,” she says, and finally there’s some emotion in her voice after it’s been so distant all the time, “it’s not. You’re… you’re trying to do everything on your own. You’re exhausted, you’re barely at home.”

She reaches out, cautious, like he’s a cornered, wounded animal that might bite, and gently her hand settles on his shoulder. Viciously he contemplates shrugging her off, but that just feels petty. He simply glances at her hand, and then at her.

“We know how much this means to you,” she says. “How much is at stake. You’ve done so much and you’ve done it by yourself.”

He scoffs at her.

She frowns. “It’s not just your legacy, Luke. You can’t carry it alone.”

“I’m not trying to!” he says through gritted teeth. “I was never trying to! I need help, not constant belittlement!”

Ahsoka sighs. “I… I think some of us are afraid,” she says. “We’re afraid it might be too distant from what we knew, even if we barely knew anything in the first place.” She removes her hand and sits, cross-legged, rubbing her arms. She looks much younger than she is, in that moment. “The world we knew is gone, and it’s been gone so long, that to see something being born out of its ashes means… letting go of it.” She looks up, tears in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Luke.”

He takes a deep breath, and for a long moment he stares at the ground beside her, before making a choice. He sits as well.

“It can’t go back to how it was,” Luke says. “I’m trying. I know it’s not the same, but it can’t be the same. Am I qualified? No. But are any of us? You all left me alone to do this by myself, no help, no guidance, no knowledge. I’ve been working off puzzle pieces that don’t even fit together. You say you want to help now, but it doesn’t feel like help. It just feels like resentment.”

Ahsoka’s breath hitches and she shuts her eyes, a look of pain on her face. “I know. The thing is, you’re doing so well. You’ve given us a place to call home again, you’re finding our history, you’re finding us the future as well…” She rubs at her eyes. “We had nothing for decades. We ran and we hid and we died, and then you came along and...” She gestures at everything around them, the rebuilt dome and the cleared streets and the rebuilt houses. “You even made allies out of old enemies. You’ve done so much.”

She looks at him then, biting her lip. “Is… is this because of Anakin?”

Luke scowls at her. “Not everything is to do with Anakin kriffing Skywalker,” he says waspishly.

“No, I meant… do you feel guilt for what he did?” she asks. “Do you feel bound to it because of him? Because of his actions?”

“I…” Luke swallows, and searches inside himself. I am a Jedi, like my father before me. “No,” he admits. “It’s not guilt. It’s not repentance, because I didn’t do it. It’s more… the right thing to do. It’s because the galaxy will be better for it.” He laughs bitterly. “Not that it feels like it.”

“How so?”

“Sometimes I wonder what the point of it is,” he says gloomily, tugging at the grass beneath his fingers. “Maybe the Order should have stayed dead.”

“Have you ever… thought of leaving?” Ahsoka asks, her voice gentle.

Luke blinks.

“You could, you know,” Ahsoka continues. “You have a husband, a son. Grogu doesn’t need to be a Jedi. You could simply be Luke.”

He’d thought about it, on lonely sleepless nights, curled up in bed on Yavin 4, all alone, where the future seemed impenetrable and murky and ultimately futile. But he hadn’t. He gotten up the next day and continued, one foot in front of the other. Although… well, if Grogu hadn’t have come along, perhaps he would have. Loneliness was becoming too familiar a state of being.

Luke shakes his head. “I am a Jedi. That’s what I am. I couldn’t… I couldn’t see the suffering in the galaxy and turn a blind eye to it, just walk away from it all. Not when I can do so much more.”

Ahsoka smiles then, her eyes creasing. “There’s your answer. That’s the point.” She sighs again. “I think we’ve been neglecting that, but we’ve also been neglecting each other. We’ve all been so isolated, it hasn’t done us good.”

“Jedi are pack animals?” Luke suggests, teasing, and Ahsoka chuckles.

It’s quiet, broken by the sound of children playing a street away and the recycled breeze in the leaves above them.

“You’re a good grandmaster, Luke,” Ahsoka says. “Don’t let us tell you otherwise.”

Luke stiffens, head snapping round to stare at her. “What?”

“A good grandmaster,” she repeats.

He shakes his head. “No. No, I’m no grandmaster, I’m far too young for that…”

“Who else is there?” Ahsoka asks. “Me, the coward running away from her own truth? Cal, who ran away from everything else? Reva, who was an Inquisitor?” She sets her hand on his shoulder again, more confidently this time, and Luke welcomes its weight. “You’ve done more than we ever could. You’re the only one it could be.” She makes a face. “And perhaps being old isn’t always the best choice.”

“I’ll take that,” he says, shrugging. “I’m not calling myself that, though. Not yet, anyway.”

Ahsoka nods with a chuckle.

Together they head back to the compound, and all eyes are on them as they walk through the gate. Grogu sprints across the yard and launches himself into Luke’s arms, babbling wildly and accusatorially.

“Well, they didn’t kill each other,” Reva says.

“Are you ok?” Ezra asks, nervous.

Luke sighs. “Yes. But… It’s been feeling like you’re all against me, like you hate everything I do, and that’s been… demoralising.”

“Talking out your feelings like normal people?” Merrin heckles from her seat beneath the porch – she tends to watch, distant and slightly mocking of it all, but fundamentally supportive. “Not very Jedi.”

Cal rolls his eyes as Reva huffs darkly.

“WE DIDN’T MEAN THAT, LUKE,” Gungi says. “IF YOU HADN’T HAVE FOUND US, WE WOULDN’T EVEN BE HERE, TOGETHER AGAIN.”

“We owe you a lot,” Cal admits, folding his arms. “What you’ve done so far, it’s incredible.”

“And we didn’t get this far by doing it by the book,” Ezra says. “We had to adapt to survive.”

Luke rocks Grogu gently, looking down at him pensively. Grogu looks up, curious, and touches his little claws to Luke’s hand.

It’s for him, isn’t it? Everything that he does, ultimately, is for Grogu, and those that will come after him. The legacy isn’t something they’ve been handed from the past, it’s a debt owed to the future. And there is no future without change.

“The past can prepare us,” Luke says, tickling Grogu behind the ear, just to hear him giggle, “but we can’t chart a course back to it. And I can’t do it alone, I need all of you with me.”

“Spoken like a true grandmaster,” Ahsoka murmurs, giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

The word doesn’t fit right now, but perhaps it will, in the future.

#star wars #luke skywalker #ahsoka tano #ezra bridger #cal kestis #grogu #very very background #dinluke #pixie writes #new jedi order

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jgoddesstarot · 7 months

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Pick-A-Pile: Family Dynamics: How Does Your Future Spouse Interact With Their Family?

👑Check out my masterlist to see all of my pick-a-card readings😊

✨ Visit my shops at Ko-fi.com or J.Goddess Tarot✨

🔮Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are based upon my intuitive interpretation of the cards and about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

🔮How I read: I use a mix of tarot cards, oracle cards, along with my intuitive abilities of claircognizance, clairaudience, and clairsentience.

🔮How this works: Close your eyes and take deep breaths, pick the pile you are most drawn to. If you aren’t drawn to any pile then that’s okay, these messages aren’t for you at this time.

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: Death, 7 of Pentacles, Knight of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacle, 4 of Swords

Hi my captivating Pile 1's, brace yourself for a tantalizing journey through the vibrant tapestry of your future lover's family dynamics. Ready for the revelations?

First, let's enter a realm of transformation—a space where old realities crumble, giving way to new horizons. Imagine a grand ancestral mansion shifting its walls and corridors, changing its very essence. Such is the profound metamorphosis that has molded your future spouse's family. This change—whether it's the winds of fortune turning or migrating to new shores—has profoundly infused their essence, shaping their familial ties with a blend of nostalgia and acceptance.

Journeying deeper, we find a lush garden where every tree and shrub has been meticulously nurtured over the years. Here, your lover emerges as the devoted gardener, their hands lovingly tending to the familial roots, ensuring that bonds flourish and thrive. They appreciate the slow dance of time, understanding that the most profound connections are nurtured patiently, season after season.

Now, amidst this verdant expanse, stands a sentinel—a knight in shining armor, steadfast and unyielding. This is your partner, the unwavering backbone of their family, always present in times of need. Their feet planted firmly on the ground, they bring pragmatism and reliability to family affairs, ensuring that everyone feels safe and cherished.

But, oh! The story doesn't end here. Amidst the lushness, there's an aura of newness—a gleam of golden opportunities. Your future love is the trailblazer, the one igniting fresh traditions, the beacon guiding their clan to embrace novelty, all while cherishing their rich legacy.

Yet, amidst all this hustle, there's a serene sanctuary—a quiet spot where time stands still. Here, your lover retreats, understanding the sacredness of rejuvenation. They champion the balance between fervent family engagements and soulful solace, ensuring harmony flows through every vein of their lineage.

In wrapping up our delicious saga, delectable Pile 1's, your future love emerges as a potent blend of resilience, dedication, practicality, innovation, and tranquility. They are the heartbeat of their family, a force of stability and renewal. As the threads of destiny intertwine, savor this glimpse into the rich familial tapestry that awaits you

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: Ace of Swords (in reverse), Knight of Wands, 10 of Wands, The Chariot, 5 of Cups

Hey my sultry Pile 2's, fasten your seatbelts as we embark on an exhilarating voyage into the heart and soul of your future beloved, especially the intricate dance of their family dynamics.

Picture a serene moonlit night, where a secretive veil cloaks the stars. Just like that mysterious night, your future partner possesses an art of concealment, especially when family matters arise. They are the silent guardians, preferring to shield their emotions in favor of preserving familial harmony, ensuring no storm disrupts the tranquil waters.

Yet, beneath this gentle facade, a tempest of fiery passion rages. Imagine a blazing phoenix, soaring high and fiercely guarding its realm. That's your future lover when their family's sanctity is at stake. They're a spirited protector, ready to leap into action, driven by a blazing heart that might occasionally prompt them to leap before they look. But rest assured, their intentions are as pure as gold.

But oh, how the universe plays its dualities! This fiery phoenix also carries the weight of the world on its wings. They're the anchor, the one who stands tall amidst family storms, absorbing every thunder and lightning, ensuring no harm befalls their kin. Sometimes it's a labor of love, and at others, a duty they can't escape.

Yet, against these raging storms and burdens, stands a fearless charioteer—your future spouse, taking the reins of their family chariot, navigating through life's tumultuous terrains with unyielding focus. Balancing passion and responsibility, they ensure their family sails smoothly towards their shared destiny.

Amidst these tales of courage and resilience, there's a chapter of heartache. A past that's seen shadows of loss or perhaps unmet expectations. But it's these very shadows that have molded them into the beacon of hope, teaching them to find the silver lining even in the cloudiest of skies.

Drawing our thrilling escapade to its end, my enticing Pile 2's, we unveil a partner enveloped in layers of fierce protection, fiery passion, unspoken sacrifices, unwavering determination, and the wisdom of their past. Their dance with family is both intense and tender, replete with challenges yet underscored by undying love. While these cards are but whispers of fate, always remember: Destiny is a two-player game. Embrace the anticipation and trust in the cosmic dance of love and life.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: 6 of Swords, 3 of Cups (in reverse), Queen of Pentacles (in reverse), Page of Wands, Knight of Swords

Ah, my captivating Pile 3's, let's embark on a tantalizing journey through the tapestry of your future spouse's family dynamics.

Picture a sailboat gently cutting through stormy seas, setting its compass toward tranquil waters. Your future beloved, it appears, has masterfully navigated their way out of family tempests. They've journeyed from choppy family ties to calmer connections, gracefully steering clear of conflicts to safeguard their peace.

However, beneath this serenity lies a whispered melancholy, like a solitary bird against a dusky sky. There's a quiet space between them and their kin, a distance that feels more emotional than physical. Perhaps the sound of clinking glasses and laughter during family feasts doesn't resonate with the same fervor. Yet, remember, this silence is their protective shield, a sanctuary carved from lessons of yesteryears.

Now, think of a warm hearth, radiating comfort. Curiously, this warmth seems elusive when it comes to their familial ties. It's not that they lack a nurturing spirit; it's just that they've found it challenging to channel it within the family's confines, perhaps holding back from the traditional roles of providing and caregiving.

But ah, there's a twist in our tale! Envision a vibrant flame, dancing with wild abandon. That's the spirit of your future spouse—unyielding, passionate, and bursting with curiosity. Their bond with their family might deviate from the norm, but it's fueled by a desire for a fresh, innovative approach. They're the wildflowers amidst roses, standing out with their unique, fiery essence.

Imagine a swift falcon, diving decisively to its prey. That's your beloved when faced with family matters—direct, unhesitant, and quick to address concerns. They don't let issues fester, choosing instead to face them head-on.

Drawing our thrilling escapade to its end, my enticing Pile 3's, we unveil a future partner who's gracefully danced with family challenges, displaying resilience, wisdom, and a fiery individuality. Their family song might not fit the traditional tunes, but it's undeniably rich in character and depth. Let's savor the symphony of these cards and relish in the anticipation of what's to come. After all, every note and rhythm sketches a piece of the fascinating enigma that is your future spouse.

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#tarot community #tarot reading #jgoddess tarot #j goddess tarot #pick a pile #pick a card #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading #intuitive tarot reader #future spouse readings #bipoc tarot reader #bipoc #support bipoc #future spouse pick a pile #future spouse #future spouse pick a card #future spouse reading #family dynamics with future spouse

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diamondperfumes · 9 months

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The assertions that Dany will "succumb" to her family's allegedly "evil legacy" or the "taint" in her blood require pathologizing her for being an abuse victim borne of rape and incest, buying into bioessentialist "genetics is destiny" argument, and decontextualizing most of the passages from her book arc. This post, with a song juxtaposed with out-of-context quotes from Dany's chapters, is an excellent example.

"Every child knows the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness." The only "mad" Targaryens were Rhaegel, Aerion, Aerys II, and Viserys III. If you want to stretch it, you can include Baelor, though he was more pious and fanatic than mad. Maegor was cruel but lucid. Rhaegar was not mad, despite being Aerys II's son. And the narrative has distanced Dany from Aerys II several times, because one of ASOIAF's central theses is not "you are your father's child," but "you can overcome your father."

"She could not look behind her, must not look behind her" is not Dany "refusing to look at her family's history." This is taken from her fever dreams in AGOT Dany IX, and what she can't look back at is an icy breath that would cause her a "death worse than death, howling forever alone in the darkness." It's the first time Dany sees the Others in her dreams, and she is the only other character in AGOT to dream of them, the other character being Bran.

"I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice." This is Dany feeling guilty for crucifying 163 slavers. How is that a sign of madness or refusal to confront her family legacy? It's actually a sign that Dany has empathy even for the worst of humanity, even for her enemies. Also, crucifying slavers isn't evil. It's odd that the same fandom that calls Dany a slaver, slave trader, slave profiteer, and slavery enabler, also calls her a tyrant or mad for crucifying slavers. What is she supposed to do with slavers? What is the "proper" way to handle them?

The mother of monsters passage is more proof that Dany is introspective and self-critical. In children's media, shounen anime, and Marvel movies, a villain may unironically call themselves a monster, but in more complicated, nuanced, adult literature, characters who call themselves monsters usually aren't bad people. They're the self-deprecating, humble, and thoughtful characters who are reflecting on their flaws and mistakes. Again, if Dany is someone who refuses to think about the dark side of her family, she would not agonize over the consequences of using her power. Monstrosity is associated with being stigmatized, ostracized, and alienated by hegemonic forces in society, and those characters who identify with monstrosity often have something to reveal about the violence of the status quo and the normalization of oppression.

George is deconstructing the coin quote, not reinforcing it. Madness/greatness, ice/fire, east/west, north/south, sun/moon, pain/pleasure, love/hate, are all dichotomies in the novel that George sets out to show can unite in some way. As I said, most Targaryens were not "mad," and I find it odd that for a fandom as progressive as it frames itself to be, the ableist stereotyping of "foreign otherized race from the East is genetically predisposed toward madness" isn't something fans problematize more.

Dany longing for the house with the red door and wanting to rest, laugh, plant trees and see them grow, are also seen as signs of madness because of her statelessness and homelessness. If a teenage girl has been raped and abused, and is herself a product of rape and abuse, and comes from an exotic Eastern family, then apparently her longing for home is actually a bomb waiting to detonate inside her, because she's unfit to belong anywhere. It's shocking that this mentality is seen as media literate or subversive.

"Dragons plant no trees" has already been disproven by Dany's arc itself. Dany reclaims fire and blood by the end of ADWD because she realizes the peace in Meereen is false (which it is). Jon Snow goes from wanting to hire glassblowing apprentices to plant crops in greenhouses to grow food, to abandoning his vows and declaring war to save his sister, and then dies. Why is that not seen as a sign of "succumbing to madness?" The acts are narratively paralleled. Perhaps––and this may be crazy, but stay with me––the thesis of FeastDance is that you cannot grow, build, and heal a nation in soil watered with blood. No such rebuilding or regrowing is possible unless and until real change occurs, and for real change to happen, the corrupt old guard cannot stay alive.

Certainly TWOW will be a darker book for every viewpoint character, but it's interesting to see how a combination of pathologizing Dany for her gender, ethnicity, genes/biology, trauma, and stateless/rootless/homeless status as an exile/diaspora, with decontextualizing her chapters, quotes, and passages, and an overall misunderstanding of the themes of ASOIAF, to single Dany out as a "dark" character who won't be able to "outrun" her "negative family history."

#daenerys targaryen #canondany #my discourse #meta #asoiaf meta #asoiaf

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