#AND LIKE! HE MUST KNOW! HE KNOWS! HE KNOWS THAT VENGEANCE WILL BE A HOLLOW POINTLESS VICTORY
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hiraganasakura · 2 years ago
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I'm being so normal over Osvald's Chapter 3 guys I totally wasn't about to tear up over it at all [sarcastic]
#original post#NO BUT LISTEN#(*major* spoiler talk in tags ahead)#osvald returned to his house sfter 5 years to find that it was still cinders. no one managed it. no one cared for it.#*after#it remains as ash and as ash it shall remain#he used to be so happy and so loved but it was all taken from him in a heartbeat. blames his 'bad habit' of TAKING A WALK for what happened#and yet he still can't help but say ''i'm home'' as he walks into the remains of his house. just as his family would expect him to#clarissa telling him that vengeance will bring nothing and that she forgives her husband's murderer as an act of love for her husband#and i was expecting osvald to shoot back by saying that he was seeking vengeance as *his* way of showing love#i was nOT EXPECTING HIM TO HIT ME WITH THE LINE ''I FORGOT WHAT LOVE FELT LIKE LONG AGO''#AND LIKE! HE MUST KNOW! HE KNOWS! HE KNOWS THAT VENGEANCE WILL BE A HOLLOW POINTLESS VICTORY#THAT IT WON'T SOLVE HIS PROBLEMS OR SOOTHE HIS PAIN OR EASE HIS GRIEF OR RETURN HIS FAMILY TO HIM#AND HE *DOESN'T CARE*#HE DOESN'T CARE BCUS FRIGIT ISLE FROZE HIS HEART OVER STRIPPED HIM OF HIS VOICE AND LEFT HIM TO LANGUISH IN HIS GRIEF AND RAGE FOR YEARS#NO WONDER HE'S SO BENT ON VENGEANCE BCUS ANGER IS ALL HE KNOWS NOW#and it just. it gets to me bcus he used to be so much kinder and warmer#harvey rly did take everything from osvald. not just his family his home his research and his reputation. but his very self too#osvald died in the fire that day too#all bcus osvald was smarter than harvey and harvey was so butthurt about it that he decided to make a cruel game out of osvald's life#do you get me? do you understand? do you know why my hyperempathy is kicking in over him?#octopath traveler#octopath traveler 2#octopath traveler ii#octopath 2 spoilers#osvald v. vanstein#tw caps#tw caps lock#ask to tag
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onmyyan · 5 months ago
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A/n: had a thought about a homelander-like reader in the DC universe, reader has homelanders powers minus his incel-like qualities just something self indulgent
It was over in an instant, the second her eyes refocused she calmly stood from the ratty chair he had her bound to, the dark steel cuffs he'd been sworn would weaken her became paper as she stood and shredded them to nothing. The tall young woman rolled her head between her shoulders, and the small grimace on her face fell after a satisfying pop echoed throughout the room.
"You know how I feel about people poking around up there." She smiled at him, tapping her finger against her temple, then took her first step forward, like a predator stalking its prey. 
"In fact- I'm almost certain you know how much I hate it." Another calculated step.
They both knew she could end him anytime she felt like it, so the slow almost teasing way she hadn't yet, chilled him to his core.
"I was only trying to right a wrong- you must understand the world must be protected-"
His tearful plea was cut off by the harsh bark of laughter leaving the younger woman. "Please, this is me you're talkin' to. I know you old man- you don't give a shit about the world." Her smile cracked giving him a flash of the beast he'd raised.
"You just want someone to remember your sorry ass when you keel over and die. You want them to think you were worth something- well guess what? You were. You made me, and I'll always remember you for that." She stared down at the man she'd called Papa, her serene smile looked as hollow as it felt.
She'd finally made it close enough to see the microscopic beads of sweat on his upper lip. Her stare was eerily curious, (e/c) eyes forced him frozen as she looked him over, akin to the way a cat stared at a mouse it was about to bat around for fun. Her (s/c) hand came up to rest gently on his chest, dead center. She patted the area a few times as gently as she could, the force shaking him in place, he moved for the syringe on his belt, if he could get to it fast enough he had a chance of survival.
"I'll also never forgive you for it." 
He saw it before he felt it. In a flash she had pushed forward and punched a hole straight through his chest, her fingers made contact with the cool cement wall behind him, Her free arm came up to cradle the back of his head, and she calmly pets his hair in a gesture she'd only seen in the hero films they showed her, his choking, bloodied sputters and gasps were quickly shushed.
"I think it's time for me to move out." She sighed to herself, yanking her arm back from the warm insides of her papa. Her face twisted in disgust at the chunks and viscera clinging to her skin, she wiped as much as she could off on the cleanest part of the deadman shirt before making her way out of the room, she had a few more doctors and nurses to say goodbye to.
Across the city was a soon-to-be hero having a not-so-good time.
Tim was having a very, bad day.
His alarm never went off forcing him to run to his classes to be on time, some freshman got too excited at lunch and knocked his soup all over the front of Tim, he had to wear his ugly gym shirt for the rest of his classes, then that idiot Kon accidentally crushed his phone with a little too much strength so Tim was screwed when it came to patrol tonight, he had a police scanner on that thing.
Then it began to rain. Sure he had an umbrella, but with the way it was coming down, it was useless.
He huffed a harsh breath through his nose, trying everything not to scream, there was an alleyway nearby that had a cover, and he quickly ran under it to avoid getting any more soaked. That was when he saw her.
A woman stood hovering over a mewling kitten, the small creature's desperate cries were almost inaudible from the harsh pound of the rain. He watched as she just stared at the helpless creature and felt himself hit his breaking point, he stormed over with a vengeance. 
Tim glared at the odd woman, his attitude more directed at his shit day than her.
"You some kinda' sicko? What the hell are you doing just standing there?" He yelled poking the taller woman in the shoulder.
She didn't budge.
"I can't grab her cuz' I can't control my strength. I think I might hurt her." She responded in such a sad tone, the guilt in her gaze made his stomach lurch with shame, the instant regret was a new feeling he noted, not one he enjoyed. "And you're standing there because you couldn't leave her either." He said it more like a statement than a question. 
The drenched (h/c) haired woman remained silent, offering a nod instead. He cleared his throat, a nervous pattern developed in middle school, and took the few steps needed to kneel next to the creature, he untied it simply enough and the small kitten instantly calmed down, rubbing its little face against his palm.
He risked a glance up and found the stranger smiling down at the scene before her. His heart did a funny little skip when he caught her gaze. From the way her eyes reminded him of warm honey, to the way she stared at him as if he was the most interesting person in the world, down to the way the rain beat against her (s/c) face, her plush lips curled up in that smile that sent shivers through his belly, everything about her pulled him in. She was enchanting so- enchanting, he'd thought it was her quirk.
"Thanks, mister." The tall woman smiled at him so brightly he felt the urge to shield his eyes, but he couldn't look away, she stood there like this goddess carved from marble, it almost seemed unfair how she lit up the grimy alleyway, how she looked to good just standing there.
"My name is Tim, what's yours?" She seemed to ponder it for a second, her head tilting, eyes calculated as she smiled at him again, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone, 
"(Y/n), I'm gonna be a hero." Her greeting was odd, but he returned her smile with a small one of his own, she stuck her hand out and shook his with a toothy grin, he could feel her strength in the simple motion as they shook hands. He had a feeling she could give Kon a run for his money.
"What are you doing out here? Besides rescuing kittens that is."
"Oh, you know stuff. Normal stuff." Was her calculated answer? He laughed to himself a bit, "Well whatever you're doing, you know you don't have any shoes on right?" She looked down with a hum. 
"It would appear I do not." He took that moment to really observe her. She looked like a gorhamite, including her clothes, she wore a white set of hospital thermals, well mostly white. Splotches of pink stained her front as if she'd been splattered with paint. Thick (h/c) curls clung to her perfectly carved face, framing it even more, the fabric of her clothes hugging her body like a second skin. He had a feeling she'd been in the hospital recently, judging by the thin band across her right wrist. He got close enough to read the word 'HOMELAN' but the rest was concealed, He chose not to comment on that, having a feeling one wrong move would send her flying.
"You hurt?" He asked standing to his full height, he had to look up a bit to meet her gaze, "Nah- I'm all good hot stuff." She made a point to flex her arm playfully, even in jest he could see she was packing some serious muscle under there.
"You running from someone?" Again she took her time to respond, her finger tapping against her chin in thought.
"Hmm, I'm gonna go ahead and say no. They definitely can't chase me anymore." The thought pulled a snort from her as if genuinely tickled, by the it, her gaze seemed gleeful, but something in her tone made his stomach do a flip, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
Another thing that caught his attention was that innocent look in her eyes whenever she looked away from him, how she stared at the ivory leaf-covered brick with the most interested expression, something in the way she looked at the sky reminded him of a child's innocence.
It was as if this was her first time outside or something.
His heart had been steadily rising throughout the entire interaction, a strange but warm feeling began to grow, and a dangerous little seed had sprouted in his heart the second he realized she was just some poor soul looking for someone to reach out and save her.
He could definitely be that person.
"I can't leave you out here like this- do you have someplace to stay?" He watched her rack her brain for an answer.
"Yes, thank you." She nodded more to herself than him and began walking in the opposite direction, straight into the storm that seemed to only worsen. He cursed under his breath and did a light jog to catch her. "You're a terrible liar." It was instinct to lift his umbrella higher, now standing side by side the good few inches on him really seemed to stand out.
"You can tell? Gotta work on my poker face then." The smirk on her plump lips felt teasing, paired with the confident way she carried herself left the purple-haired man with a swarm of dancing butterflies in his tummy.
"I know somewhere safe-" he flicked his tongue out over his lip, "I'm..connected with some heros in this town, I can protect you." He said as earnestly as he could, something telling him not to let this one go, he rubbed her arm, trying to warm her with his hand as he gave her a crooked grin. She giggled at the man before her, she wasn't used to people worrying for her so intensely, so honestly, to think she'd known him five minutes and he'd shown her more kindness than any of the cold, calculating doctors who raised her ever had, it made her laugh to herself. He had no idea how little she needed protection, but still, the thought made her chest feel funny and warm.
 "Oh jeez, my own personal hero? Lucky day." He returned her grin, the festering feeling of obsession gripped him all that more. With that, he took a calculated risk and linked his pinkie with hers. "Come on, it's not far." The kitten was happily asleep in his hoodie pocket, the stallion beside him reminded him a lot of a feral kitten, just asking to be taken home and pampered.
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avocado-writing · 7 months ago
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Hi, I really like the way you write BG3 party members! I had a thought for a while and wanted to request the main party with a Revenant!Tav? Imagine all the angst that comes with Tav only seeking vengeance on their killer, knowing that their time is limited (revenants have only 1 year to enact their revenge). Or maybe the companions try to find a way of making them 'alive' again, if you want a happy ending? I just think it has a lot of potential and want to know your thoughts!
this one is a bit angsty, so reader beware
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My beautiful boy Astarion understands the need for revenge, and is committed to helping you get it if you help him kill Cazador. The two of you stay up late at night to discuss tactics, how you will enact your brutality upon the people who deserve it… but then Astarion realises that you do not talk about what comes after, like he does when he considers a life without his abuser. He does a little research and finally finds what a revenant is. It breaks his heart to think that you’d die at the end of your quest because… well, he loves you. He begs you to reconsider. That there are other ways. You don’t need to be like him. But you take his cheek in your hand and tell him there is no other path for you, so the two of you must just enjoy the time you have together. If he finds a way to cure you, he’s yours forever - if not, the time you have together is sacred. He wastes not a second.
Gale immediately researching about how to lift your curse, that the two of you may live a happy life together after you get your revenge. You tell him not to bother, it’s too much effort, he needs to move on and find someone better - someone with a life worth giving to him. He deserves proper, warm, and tender love, something your dead heart isn’t capable of giving. He does not listen. He doubles down, desperate to keep you in his arms. Maybe he finds some secret forgotten rite which allows you to live after you’ve killed the person who wronged you… or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he watches you die and pass on peacefully when you’re done, then does everything he can to ascend to godhood and bring your soul back into his arms. Either way, nothing will stop your wizard. 
Wyll listens to your story with a heaviness in his heart, but he knows he wasn’t upfront about his past either… but that does give him an idea. One night, with no way to understand how or why, you feel your curse being lifted, life returning properly to your body. When you seek out your Blade he tries to act pleased, but there’s something weighing on him. It does not take long to realise that he has given up his soul in its entirety to Mizora in order to restore yours. You cry and wail and beat at his chest pathetically. How could he make such a trade? You are not worth it. He holds you at arm’s length to look you over and tells you you’ve always been worth it, and he’d make his choice a thousand times over again. You love him so utterly that you're brought to silence. You vow to make the best of this gift he’s given you, with him by your side.
She knows what it is like to live your last days, does Karlach. The infernal engine in her will kill her sooner rather than later, so she indulges with you. Rich food, fine wine, long evenings of partying and celebrations of life. At Baldur’s Gate you hold her after she kills Gortash, and she begs you not to follow her suit, because revenge isnt worth it. This confession just leaves you empty. There is nothing left after except hollowness. And maybe you listen to her, the two of you find a way out of your curse and go on to Avernus to live out your happiness there (or what you can muster of it) or maybe you ignore her, or your time runs out, and she is left to face the Absolute alone - and lets herself burn on that dock, because a life without you isn’t a life at all.
Lae’zel is excited about your revenge. Enthusiastic, even supportive. She does not understand the nature of your curse. Many a long evening is spent training with her so you may sharpen your abilities, and she gains a great respect for you as both a warrior and a person. Either you find a cure which allows you to be together… or too late does she find out what your revenge brings. She holds you in her arms as you pass, your final words ones of love as your body goes limp and your soul passes into a different plane. She takes a lock of your hair and keeps it on her as a reminder. It is all she has left, after all.
Shadowheart is a great supporter of you… as a Sharran. She pushes for your revenge, evangelising the merits of you killing the person who wronged you, as it’s what Lady Shar would want. But then, as a Selûnite, she begins to think differently. Life is sweeter than she believed. There is more to it than suffering, and she wants to experience the loveliness of it with you by her side. She spends her nights poring over tomes to try and cure you. Maybe she finds a way with her new goddess. If not, when you pass, she keeps you in her heart forever, trying to move on with the guidance of her new goddess, but always feeling just that little bit empty without you.
Taglist:  @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kat @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @snoozeeebee @hopeful-n-sad
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rottendollface · 7 months ago
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The Horror of Our Love. Chapter 4.
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Co-author: @bigtimesalt8196
Character: Childe Tartaglia | Ajax.
Image: Picsart Al.
Warnings: NSFW; Ajax is older than in canon;
broken time line and age line for the sake
of plot; female virgin reader, incestuous
relationship, family abuse, self-harm,
misogyny, mentions of rape, unprotected
sex, black magic, blood and flesh magic,.
body horror, sacrilegious, Foul Legacy
Childe, breeding kink, miscarriage, marriage
grooming, pregnancy, erotic lactation.
murdering, abyssal soulmates, serfdom
system in Snezhnaya; all the characters are
adults; 18+.
Time was running mercilessly and the date of Ajax's departure was getting closer. Your mental state improved and you opened to your family, but the common joy ended quickly, as you hid into your wordless shell again, frustrated with a hollow feeling of upcoming loneliness. 
Ajax was stressed out. It wasn't rare for you to find him talking to himself, discussing plans for the future and even arguing. Ajax's short temper and unreleased anger were showing at these moments: he was gesticulating in an excited manner; if not, he was walking back and forth, and sighing heavily. 
It happened again when you were searching for Ajax to tell him to come and help others on the stable. You heard his heavy footsteps on the second floor. Before you knocked on the door, you overheard him saying something about grandmother. 
“How in the world could an uneducated hard-working woman become a witch? Still can't get it right in my head.”
You shouldn't be heeding to his words – you were taught not to eavesdrop, but something in your mind told you to stay and spy on Ajax. You pressed your ear to the door and leaned on it. It was unusual and exciting for you until you heard someone answering him.
“You don't need to have specific knowledge to become a witch. She was in so much despair and pain it made her prayers especially sweet and strong. We couldn't ignore such a broken soul. After she got the power, she got the education as well – we taught her to read and count in one hour.”
You frowned, trying to understand who Ajax was talking to. You didn't hear that voice before and it sounded strange: loud, deep and hoarse. At first you couldn't even understand what the person was talking about – their speech was gibberish without words. You heeded, then your mind translated it to a normal humanly sounding state.
“Brilliant. And who was she praying to?”
“She was praying to the devils, young master. The disadvantage of her choice is simple – you never know who will answer to your call.” The person chuckled. You frowned. “In her case, it wasn't just a deal. It was a salvation. We saw a potential in her: her hatred and thirst for vengeance were commendable. She wanted someone from her family to inherit the power and continue the legacy. Just like in the prophecy.”
“A prophecy?”
“Not now, young master. You want to ask me about the diary and the missing part of the power, I can feel.”
“Don't you dare tell me what I want to do.” Ajax hissed. “I had enough of this! One more time you and your fucking henchmen show me these lousy dreams I'll send you all to the deepest of the Abyss and let the guards have some fun with you all in the same manner. Speak and then get lost, son of a bitch.”
“So, part of the power was passed to your dearest sister and there is no way for you to get it back from her, but she will share it with you.”
“What?!” Ajax was stunned. 
“Ask her yourself. Not in my duties to explain everything to you. But I must confess she has a rather beautiful birthmark on her pretty back. Such a pleasure to watch her dressing up in the morning.”
You felt that someone pushed the door and jumped back so as not to fall into the room. 
“Ajax! Father needs your help on the stable.” You spoke first and played like you didn't hear anything. Ajax froze with an aggressive expression on his face, but his gaze became softer when he looked at you. 
“'Thanks,” He didn't wait and rushed to the stable. You stood aside to give him enough space, then looked into the room.
You made a step into it. The atmosphere here was different. A cold sweat broke out your body when you realized whom Ajax was talking to. In a second you felt that everything around you was hostile and hurried to get back to your room, but the door closed right in front of you. In fact… you had questions too, but you were afraid to build up communication with those ghoulish creatures. 
“How can I get rid of you?” You asked into the fake emptiness. 
“There is no way.” The answer was given to you immediately. You cried out, regretting your decision. “We serve your brother.”
“What about me? You said I have the same power as him.” Your brain was running fast, as you tried to rate the risk of the situation. You didn't want to repeat your recent journey of escaping demons, so you stayed alerted. Just a reminiscence of it made you weak in your knees.
“You stole a part of it from him. We mean no harm to you because of the master's order, but we have no desire to help you.” A mocking voice said, leaving you angry. 
“You caused me a lot of harm.” You flared up. You realized that you wanted to play dirty on them. “I'll ask your master to execute his threat. You'll get what you deserve.” You grinned, imagining the torture Ajax promised to them. “Open the door.”
The door opened with a creak. You stepped out and the daze fell from your mind. Your heart was beating like crazy and your limbs started shaking from the fact that you commanded those demons. 
“I hope you are suffering in a sulfur flame, grandma!” You couldn't keep the sudden outbreak of anger inside your throat. It all was her fault. Ajax and you were doomed to repeat her miserable fate because of her selfishness. The old fool believed in some prophecy – you were sure it was just a fiction of the demons to trick her into selling her family's souls to the devil as well. “Stupid cunt! Why couldn't you kill your husband without this fucking heresy?!” You screamed and froze. You opened your eyes so wide they hurt and pressed your palms to your mouth, trying to understand what you just said.
You made it to your room, feeling dizzy from the overexcitement. You laid down to rest. You felt so disgusted by your attitude you couldn't even believe that you let these words out of your mouth. Guilt was gnawing at your heart. Your head and your chest were heavy, you were about to doze off to sleep. Recently you got health issues: no matter what, you always were sleepy. With every day it was harder for you to wake up and get out of bed. You slept for ten and more hours, skipped meals and house work, as you felt completely drained out of energy. Even father stopped bothering you: despite his strictness, he was concerned about your health. 
Suddenly you remembered about the diary and your attention focused on it. You got up but sat down on the edge of your bed, because your vision blacked from a sudden move. You took the diary from its secret place and started reading from the very beginning. You didn't know what you hoped to find, and everything you read didn't make any sense. The words were written in a normal human language, but you couldn't understand a thing from it, as if the diary itself didn't want you to know its secrets. 
You stopped in the middle part to examine a magic circle that was drawn on a page. It was a simple circle with two smaller size circles inside of it. The smallest one had inside two triangles merged in the shape of a star, and in the free space in the middle of the triangles there was an eye; outside the smaller circles there were four crescent moons. You looked at it carefully, then read through the text on the next page and managed to understand it. The text was about an astral plane – an experience of lucid dreaming with the astral projection of your soul traveling through the spiritual world. Flashbacks of grandmother's house attacked your mind right after you decided to explain to yourself the definition of the spiritual world. There was no other useful information to gain and nothing was said on how to get into another world. 
You returned the diary to its place, then realized that there was something wrong with it. It seemed like the diary was deciding which information to give to you, and which one to hide – maybe it was some sort of magic. Bewildered, you took a deep breath and laid for a nap. You were in a slumber when Teucer opened the door and came to your room on his tiptoes. He looked around, then stared at your face. 
“Older sister,” he whispered and shook you by your shoulder. You woke up with a scream, making him jump back. “There is a noise inside your room!” By Teucer's tone you could tell he felt as scared as you. 
“What? I heard nothing.” You rubbed your sleepy face, hardly understanding what he was trying to tell you.
“No! I could swear I heard something inside!” In a second Teucer turned into a whiny boy, his voice got crying notes – it was his usual strategy to attract attention to his words. “'Like someone was scratching on the wood!”
“It was mice, probably.” You tried to wave him away. You were too tired to talk: your whole body was heavy and your eyes were closing on itself. You couldn't sit anymore and lay on your side. Teucer's ginger hair irritated you with its bright color, it made your eyes hurt. You couldn't hear him anymore, simply ignored everything he tried to tell you. Teucer ran away, as he got no response from you.
Just a moment after he came back with Ajax, lamenting on your behavior. Ajax sighed, patted Teucer's head and promised to take a look at the situation. Teucer, who was feeling like a hero, left Ajax and you alone. “What's wrong, dove?” Ajax closed the door and sat on the bed. He brushed away hair that fell on your face. You could feel his peculiar look with your skin.
“Nothing.” You mumbled, hiding your face in a pillow. “I just want to rest.”
“Don't want to seem rude,” Ajax's voice was anxious. “but you are resting too much. Are you okay?”
You didn't answer him, as you fell asleep already. All Ajax could do was to cover you with a blanket and leave, tormented by conjectures. He asked the devils by his side about your health, but their answer was vague – an eclipse was about to happen. Ajax spent the day without you, hoping that you would wake up, but you didn't. 
As usual, he came to your room at night when everyone else was asleep. Ajax found you awake, reading the diary. Two candles were illuminating the room; the wind was howling behind the window, bringing chilly air through the loose shutter. Your room was the coziest in the whole house to Ajax, because it was you to leave here. It was located in the back of the house, poorly furnished and cold, but your presence made it comfortable and welcoming. You closed the diary and put it in the secret spot.
“Do you mind sharing something interesting with me?” Ajax blew out the candles and made himself comfortable in bed. He laid on his side, so he could face you.
“Just a magic book paired with an autobiography.” You did as well, looking at your brother in the dark. “Ajax,” you started, but stumbled, afraid that your question would make him angry. Still, you continued. “Is there any chance for us to return to a normal life?”
“It is our normal life now. You better get used to it.” Ajax sighed. “It is our fate, dove, and we can do nothing about it.”
“I don't want fate like this. I would better die, than…” you bit your tongue, realizing how foul your words were. 
“We were talking about the diary.” Ajax replied with a stern voice that sent shivers down your spine. 
You got nervous and scratched your clavicle. “I don't understand what is happening. Why are we talking so casually about something like this, ignoring all the devilry that is surrounding us?” 
You were the voice of sense, and Ajax lost all his words. You were right – for him it was a usual topic, but for you, who almost lost one's mind contacting the devils and was contaminated with abyssal power against one's will, it was a delirium of polluted brain. 
“That's not something we should discuss for a night. I'll tell you everything later.” Ajax put his pinky finger towards you and you did so, sealing the promise.
In a small talk you were the one to lead the conversation. Ajax kept you in his tight embrace, replying leisurely. His warmth and soft smell of his sweat made you feel relaxed – in this chaos of life Ajax's hands were the only space you felt safe in. It was selfish, it was unfair, but Ajax was the only reason that kept you in this world. His love was your motivation to live and become better. You wanted to protect Ajax in your own way by giving him solace he needed. No one could replace you in his life, no one could love him and comfort him better than you. Was it jealousy? It definitely was. You couldn't even imagine Ajax doing the same things he did for you to another woman. Those fantasies made you feel angry and reckless. 
You turned your head to him, his lips were dangerously close to yours. You looked at him, waiting for something more – out of sudden the desire to be closer awoke in you. Ajax tarried, taken aback by your sudden move, so you pressed your lips to his gently. He slightly opened his mouth, helding your lower lip between his. You felt Ajax fingers brushing over your jawline, that made you hold your breath. An unusual drawing feeling curled in your lower belly; it made you thirsty for more than a kiss – your nipples hardened, full of lustful sensation. 
“This is wrong…” he whispered, pulling away from you. The two extremes were fighting inside his soul – being on the verge of another Fall, Ajax suddenly remembered that he was a virtuous man once. Even his corroded heart contracted nervously. He desired to have you, but you were his sister.
Perhaps, he just needed a little push into this abyss.
Ajax quickly got on top of you, his trembling hands caught your hips. It was the first time he touched a woman in such a private place, that left him overly excited: the beast he was restraining broke out. His mouth covered yours, he placed heated kisses across your face, got down to your neck, biting soft skin, then traveled lower, until your night dress. Ajax's ardor surprised you, the way he forcefully pushed his tongue inside your mouth and squeezed your breasts with tenacious slender fingers made you squeak. 
Ajax lost his mind: all the moral borders were broken and he was striving to push his erected member into your hot, wet place. Afterall, you were a woman in the first place, so it was nothing wrong in sharing bed with you and making you bear his children. 
It was hastily and clumsily, as arousal and thrill of being caught took over both of you. Ajax pulled down his pants quickly; you felt the tip of his cock pressing to your entrance. It was more painful than you expected it to be, so you bit on your index finger to ease that stinging feeling.
“Please, relax…” you heard your brother's husky voice. You did as he asked, and Ajax showed more of his member into you. It was hard not to cry, as it felt like you were about to split in half from this burning and stinging ache. Ajax's lips were trembling, as he was close to climax already.
You kept silent when Ajax started bucking his hips into yours. The process wasn't pleasurable at all and left you praying for it to end soon. Ajax, unlike you, couldn't keep his voice inside his throat, and moaned quietly: your quivering wet walls wrapped him around, sucking his cock deeper inside your womanhood. He had never felt more pleasure in his life. It didn't take long for Ajax to cum, staining your walls with his seed.
The following fuss went in a shy and wordless atmosphere. You left to clean yourself up, and Ajax stayed in the room to fix the bed. Intimacy proved to Ajax that you loved him the way he loved you – and your relationship should result in marriage. He was ready to marry you right now, but it was impossible to his own regret. Demons suggested Ajax take you to another village and introduce you as an orphan to a priest, so the marriage would be possible. His mood lightened – it was the first time those devils recommended something good to him. 
You came back and curled on the bed, as your lower tummy still disturbed you. Ajax hugged you and fell asleep right at the moment, soothed by your warmth. Your brain was restless. For demons it was a triumph, you thought. Despite the fact that this night was calm, you still felt their presence. They were a part of your normality, so you tried to think positively of them. It was very convenient to have servants like them, probably: all the dirty and impossible work was on their shoulders and they couldn't say no. 
You snapped out of your cogitation. You got an awareness that it wasn't your thoughts. They belonged to your head, but were planted in here artificially. You knew yourself well enough (at least you thought you were) and it wasn't in your character to have such destructive ideas. You didn't want to end up like Ajax – losing yourself over uncontrollable animal impulses that were implied to him by demons. They were trying to take control over you, you were sure, and Archons did nothing to protect you, which led you to a painful question – was there any point in praying to someone, who didn't respond to you? Slowly you started to understand your grandmother, and it sent shivers down your spine. 
To calm down you got out of bed and came to the window. Looking out, you saw the Moon. It was unusually bright today, you could see its surface in detail out of your window. It was exciting, for a moment you forgot how to breathe, beholding celestial beauty. Was it possible to reach it? You never heard of experiments of entering outer space, but you were sure it was possible. Why didn't Archons try it? Or, maybe, there were experiments, but in your obscure village no one heard of it. You sighed heavily. You were jealous of Capital citizens, they had everything on their plate by birthright. Ajax promised you that he would find a school for you in the Capital, but you were sure it wouldn't happen. He would be a regular soldier, no one would even think about doing him favors at the beginning of his career. If only you had access to actual knowledge and science… you brushed it away. You had enough disappointments in your life and didn't want to focus on sadness before going to bed.
Unexpectedly, out of nowhere, you saw a green lightning in front of you. It disappeared before you could react, and something fell on the floor, making a sound of fallen glass. You picked up what turned out to be a trinket, something similar to a pendant by its shape and design, but it lacked a chain. 
Shadows in the room started shifting chaotically. 
“What happened?!” Ajax jumped on the bed, aware of a strange sound. He quickly made it to the window and looked out, then he rushed about the room. “I heard something.” Ajax was turning his head, his eyes peering into the darkness. 
“I don't know…” You came to him and showed the find. “It appeared here.”
“A Vision!” Ajax exclaimed and covered your hand with the trinket. “You should hide it, okay? Don't let someone see it.”
“Why? Is it bad?” You got scared and wanted to throw it away, thinking of it as some kind of cursed treasure.
“No. I don't know what you wished for, but Celestia found your desire worthy of attention and granted you Vision. It allows you to manipulate a certain element of nature,” Ajax took his hand off and looked at it. “Dendro, in your case. I have one too. Mine is Hydro.”
“Why didn't you tell me?” You spoke with an offended tone. You thought Ajax would share such a great thing with you, but he chose to conceal it.
“I was told not to. I'm sorry, dove.” He got a guilty face and scratched his head. “But it means we became even closer! You and I both have extraordinary powers. I'll teach you how to use them.”
“I thought we were close enough already. Thanks, I guess.” You looked at the Vision again and decided to hide it in the same spot with the diary. 
You had no idea on how to use it and why you needed it, but at the same time it gave you a hope – if Celestia counted you as worthy, then your future was determined to be interesting and wasn't bonded with this gloomy village.
One day was left until the set date. You thought parents would prepare some kind of celebration or a farewell dinner, but nothing was done. Everyone took it as a natural part of his life, as if nothing had to happen. You were puzzled, until you realized: for them Ajax's enlistment in the Fatui was a shame. Instead of saying proper goodbye to Ajax and spending time with him, father brought his friend, Pavel Korneevich, into the house and introduced him as your groom to everyone.
You could swear: you physically sensed the immediate tension and confusion coming from Ajax. Your opinion wasn't welcomed, so you stayed silent, afraid to stand up for yourself. You weren't just shocked – you were scared to death. All your dreams for a happier life were about to be broken with a marriage.
It was scandalous: Pavel Korneevich was old enough to be your father. You were indecently younger, yet it didn't stop father from bringing this man into his own house. With this gesture he showed how little respect for you he had had, and the scanty amount of good things he had ever done to you was immediately forgotten by you. That grain of love you had for him was destroyed and turned into pure hatred. But Pavel Korneevich… How could he even think about marrying you? He was out of his mind, if he thought of you as a suitable wife for himself. 
“Is this some kind of a cruel joke?” Ajax's aura gave you shivers. His tone was serious, yet soft and sickly sweet, while his slightly narrowed eyes were fixed on the guest and father. “Don't you dare to put a ring on her while I'm out. I want to see my dear sister walking down the aisle with my own eyes.”
Ajax's words didn't make sense and you hoped that he said it only to win time. Ajax stood behind your back and put his heavy hand on your shoulder, that almost broke at the weight and a tight squeeze that he gave you. You portrayed a labored, trembling smile.
“Of course,” Pavel Korneevich nodded. “We need no rush in such things.”
“Sure,” Father grunted, munching on his wrinkled dry lips. “You are free to go. We have business to discuss.” Then he looked at you and, without calling your name, addressed you. “Pasha will talk to you later.”
On numb legs you made it to your room, Ajax following you like a shadow. As soon as you entered the private area, you cried out and fell on your knees, helpless and miserable. All he could do was hold you in his arms and remain silent. 
A familiar shadow appeared in front of Ajax, waiting for instructions. Ugly, ridiculously slim and tall, the demon in the shape of a man with a pig's nose was looking right into Ajax's soul. A second shadow, small and stout, showed up right near the first one: the same pig nose, but also small sly eyes. It was too late to pray, so Ajax made an order – to ruin the wedding and kill Pavel Korneevich, but his death should seem natural. By sinister smiles that bloomed on twisted faces and revealed sharp, abnormal teeth, Ajax figured out that the order was taken. They disappeared to prepare their nasty trap.
“Worry not, dove,” Ajax nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck. “I'll take care of it. Your brother will never leave you. I'll always be here to help you.”
On the contrary, Ajax's words made you feel even worse than you did before: dragged away from his home, he would think about you without the opportunity to communicate with you properly. You wanted to disappear, to dissolve, to stop existing in a physical way only to escape from this agony. If not Pavel Korneevich, then somebody else would be chosen as your groom. Parents wouldn't miss an opportunity to get rid of you. What could you do? 
“Take me with you!” You clutched at the collar of his shirt, your gaze crazy behind the clumped lashes and redness of the eyes. “Take me with you, or I will run away!”
Ajax hardly endured your emotional breakdown. Your broken voice and hysterical ideas were impossible to listen to; at this point he wished for the night to come sooner and take him from this cursed house – he didn't tell you that Fatui would take him in the night to avoid unwanted attention. Ajax stayed until you cried yourself to sleep. The last day with you was meant to be tragic, for his own regret. When the clock struck midnight, Fatui appeared in the yard, waiting for him. Mother gave Ajax a heartless kiss at his cheek, and father remained uninvolved. Ajax left without looking back not to torture his soul. For the first time of his life he found calmness. 
The gate grated, soldiers in heavy boots left, leaving deep footprints on the snow; a small lamp went out inside the house. The moon was unusually bright, its agily light oozed into the house through every crack. Your room was filled with moonlight, making it as bright as day. In your dreamless sleep you heard someone calling your name, and your body, hit by impulses, stood up on its own, pursuing the voice; step by step you made it to the front door.
The door opened on itself and closed, when you walked out. Your bare feet touched the snow; it melted from your heat. A bigger celestial body closed the Moon, causing the eclipse and hiding all the blissful light that Illuminated you. You felt like falling: the horrifying hungry maw of abyss opened under your feet, swallowing you into the darkness and covering your body with snow. You opened your eyes and saw nothing. You landed on the stone floor, all your body responded with pain. 
It was a big room with just one chair and a burning fireplace. Cold walls of unknown color were hidden in the dark, as well as other spaces of the room. You heard steps and a woman appeared in front of you. She had long white hair and manic crimson eyes. Her expressionless face scared you.
“This must be a joke.” She smiled to herself. “How could a worm like you deserve the Forgotten God's blessing? This is ridiculous.” She turned back on her heels. The cape on her bony shoulders followed her moves, and you noticed dozens of death masks that froze in scream on the hemline. 
“Where am I?!” Your voice broke on scream. It couldn't be that the nightmare from your grandmother's shack found you in Morepesok.
The woman sighed irritably. “He had one job – yet he failed. You are in the Abyss. The power you stole from your brother brought you there.”
“I want to go back.” You stated. Unusual hardness in your voice made the woman laugh. “This ain't funny! I'm tired of these devilish tricks I'm being involved in! I swear this time I'll fight you instead of running away!”
“Then fight.”
At an impossible speed she made an attack that struck you into your shoulder and made you fly to the nearest wall. You couldn't breath at the pain you felt – it seemed like your clavicle, scapula and ribs were crumbled into tiniest pieces. You were opening and closing your mouth with no sound, just like a fish that was taken out of water and left to die on the surface. It was a pure shock that paralyzed you and concentrated your brain on the inhuman pain. 
The woman sat in the chair and looked at the fireplace, as she immediately lost her interest in you. You didn't know how much time had passed since you were left to suffer, but it felt like decades to you before you were able to stand up. 
“You possess great power, yet I bet you know nothing about it. That's why you should think before stealing.” She spoke, watching the fire. “I heard a prophecy about brother and sister, who would free us from the shadows we were trapped in and restore the ancient order. It doesn't matter anymore – deep inside I stayed skeptical, and it proved that all prophecies are lies. Look at your right hand.”
You did as she said and staggered. One of your wrists was abnormal: your fingers, palm and veins got black, traces of the same color ascended until your elbow. 
“I'll teach you the concept of ritual – that's the starting point of your journey. Then, you will be on your own.” She let out a short chuckle, full of sadistic anticipation.
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sungbeam · 8 months ago
Text
BIRD HUNT — three
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nonidol!choi line x f!reader
gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.
▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman
▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, use of pepper spray, breaking and entering
▷ word count. 4.4k // taglist: open
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FILE_03 : by the tail
gotham city.
[seven days since your mother was murdered.]
"Is she here?"
The voice was familiar to your sensitive ears, and although your eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Lee, you shifted your attention mentally to the two—no, three—wait… four?—figures making their way over to where you and Mrs. Lee stood in the home office space. Their footsteps were as quiet as heeled loafers could be against hollow wood floors. The Lees' home in the suburbs was a safe distance from the heart of Gotham, so the neighborhood was much nicer and much more like a home. The Lees had been ushered here after Lee Sungjae had been found murdered, and they'd resided here since.
You had been called in the day after the incident happened—that was the day after you had gone to see your father. We must work fast, Yn. They've already gotten to one of my… men. That was what he'd told you, and when he elaborated, you had discovered that every news channel now blasted footage of Lee Sungjae's dead, glassy eyes.
You had been busy since, trying to both grieve in peace and work at the same time.
"—take more time, Yn-ah. Losing a loved—" Mrs. Lee's voice cracked slightly and she covered her mouth.
"Mrs. Lee—"
She waved your hand away, angling her body away slightly so she could regain composure. "No, no. It's alright. I'm alright. I just… I know how it feels, and I think you deserve time to yourself, as well."
Of course you told her about your mother. You had to take another day off when one of your coworkers had noticed how spaced out you were when you came in. No, you didn't tell her your mother was murdered the same way her husband had. That was between you, your father, and the motherfucker who did this.
But for now, you were supposed to be here to answer the police's questions about your employer. You had been one of three of Mr. Lee's secretaries for the past several months now, having come under his employ about a year ago after Choi Enterprises turned you away. But magically, a few days afterward, this offer from the office of one Lee Sungjae had arrived in your inbox. When one door closed, as they said, another opened. Whatever guardian angel was looking over you then certainly wasn't looking over you now though.
"Miss Ln?"
You turned around and expected to see Commissioner Kim Namjoon and your co-secretary, Shin Ryujin, but you hadn't expected the two others with them. They stood behind the two aforementioned, both in black domino masks that covered the top halves of their faces. Their suits were skintight, most likely to allow for more mobility, but they also accentuated their starkly muscular figures. The taller one wore a suit of dark blue and black, while the other donned a maroon red and black ensemble. You recognized them, respectively, as Gotham's very own Nightwing and the Red Robin. Vigilantes. What were they doing with Commissioner Kim?
Ryujin bowed her way out, gently taking Mrs. Lee with her. That left you with the others.
"Hello, Miss Ln," Commissioner Kim greeted with a tired, but not unkind, smile. He fished a small notepad out of his coat pocket, ballpoint pen clicking to life. "My name is Commissioner Kim. These two… not sure if you need any introductions."
When you remained silent with only a nod, he continued, "We're here investigating the murder of your former employer, and we were informed that you often handled his familial affairs. We've already spoken with Miss Shin and Mr. Yun, but we wanted to ask where you were last Wednesday night at ten o'clock."
You were very aware that Nightwing had decided to wander about the office, eyes taking in the shelves and the notes and the desk… then there was Red Robin, who's attention was pinned intently on you, arms crossed firmly over his chest. There was something awfully familiar about these two. "Is that an accusation, Commissioner?" You asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.
"It doesn't have to be," he said airily. "Just answer the question, Miss."
"I was at home," you answered, schooling your face into neutrality. "You can ask my employer's wife and my coworkers—I was taking time off to grieve my mother's death."
The shock was not the most stark on the commissioner's face, but on Red Robin's. "She's dead?—" He coughed; even Nightwing had paused his movements. "I mean, I'm sorry for your loss." You didn't recognize the voice, but you suspected it was probably being disguised with a voice modulator.
The commissioner sent him a bewildered look, but turned back to you. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Yn. Truly." He asked with almost a grimace, "Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts? I understand you were most likely home alone, but perhaps a neighbor, a significant other…?"
And there it was again—that shift in energy as both the vigilantes in the room stopped to focus on you.
You shook your head with a tight smile. It probably wouldn't bode well if you revealed to them who your father was or that you paid the Iceberg Lounge a visit that day. You were also a little too preoccupied with survival to have a significant other, and you hadn’t been close enough to a neighbor in years. "No. Just my cats."
There was something so familiar about this Red Robin character, but you couldn't put a finger on it. Or maybe it was the way he was staring at you with such pity (and sympathy) that made you wish he was someone else. Either way, you needed to know why these two vigilantes were put on the case, and what they might have already found out. At the moment, it didn't seem like it would pose a problem, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to be a little more careful.
When you arrived home that night, bones aching as much as your head pulsed, you collapsed on the couch. A few of your cats began to swarm your legs, soft fur tickling the skin exposed when your pant leg lifted. Blue, a very introverted Russian Blue who you managed to make an extrovert when it came to you, plopped himself onto your lap like a warm, vibrating mass. You ran your fingers through his fur to the symphony of someone's purrs (you figured it was Byeol; he was quite vocal).
"Should I invite him to the funeral?" You murmured to Blue in question.
He stared back at you, then silently turned his gaze to a particle of dust floating in the air.
You exhaled back against the couch cushions. "I'll take that as a yes."
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In the dead of night—because there was always a dead of night, even for Gotham City—you pulled a dark beanie over your head and the top half of your face. Two holes had been cut and sewn for your eyes to see through, and at the top of the hat, two little triangles sat akin to ears. You recalled the night you had crocheted this on a whim, your mother having done most of the work.
"Blue wants it to have cat ears, mama," you'd told her just as she brought out her tub of yarns.
Your mother's eyes glittered. "Is that right? Well, we'll have to add cat ears then, won't we?"
You thought it would be fitting to find her killer in this. You thought it fit you quite well, at least.
The rest of you was dressed in black, and your hand grazed over Soul's fluffy, white head as you propped open the second floor window. "I'll be home soon," you whispered to the last of your family, then disappeared into the night.
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"I can't get why this is so familiar to me," Beomgyu voiced into the echoes of the Batcave, hands braced against the main monitor as he stared at the copy of the note: A Debt Repaid. He had been staring at it for the past week, not consecutively, but it hadn't left the forefront of his mind. Like you.
Soobin trudged over to his brother with a bowl of cereal cradled in his large palm, the other hand spooning the sweet milk and wheat flakes into his mouth. "Mm. Maybe give it a rest for a little, Beom."
"And do what?"
"How do you know Ln Yn?"
Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"
Soobin smiled and shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."
"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died so close to another's death?"
"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."
Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.
Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the date go?"
"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"
Soobin sent him a look that distinctly said 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'
"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.
Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."
Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"
Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."
"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."
"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers' were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."
Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."
"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.
Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of… shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.
Either way, there would be lots of digging required.
"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."
"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."
They remained silent.
"What, too soon?"
The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.
All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.
"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.
Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Ln Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.
Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.
Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.
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To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Actually, that was a lie. You kind of knew what you were doing, but that was leagues away from completely knowing what you were doing until it was muscle memory. Right now though, as you gripped onto the side of the building, fingertips digging into the concrete ledge like a lifeline (because it might as well had been one), you couldn't wait until it became muscle memory.
God, your arms were going to ache tomorrow morning.
"It's worth it, Yn," you muttered to yourself, under your breath, and that was what made you reach up one more time and grasp onto the ledge of the window sill. You had always wondered why buildings like this lacked security cameras, but based on its practically smooth facade, it was no wonder. Only a crazy person would dare scale something like this.
The law firm building was not one of the largest nor one of the dingiest. If it had been some place like Clark & Field, you would have considered other ways to get into the building, but it would probably be through the inside (because scaling a fifty story skyscraper without a net was not on your bucket list). And if the building had been on the dingier side, it would have, frankly, been much easier to find footholds and places to brace. Except for any mold or crumbly parts. That was not fun either.
Or maybe you could classify scaling buildings as just… not fun in general. But the skills and the strength would come with time.
This time, however, was fueled by pure willpower.
But the universe was on your side for once, and the window you clung to gave way and granted you entry. The stupid lock picks had actually worked.
Despite being dead for two weeks, Yang Eunhyuk’s office still looked like its owner was still alive. There were documents left out in the open, all of the furniture had yet to be touched, there was an old (upon further investigation, really old) cup of coffee on the desk, and a two-week-old calendar for the week’s appointments and cases. You peered at the calendar and skimmed its contents, but found nothing terribly noteworthy. You strolled by the bookcase, footsteps light as a cat’s, and glimpsed the titles. There were a lot of convoluted-sounding titles on the shelves, and honestly, you doubted that he even read half of the books there. They were probably just for show when clients came in.
After you had given yourself a tour of the space, you determined that no one had truly cared enough about this man to really clean up for him. The door out into the hallway was locked, and through its frosted glass door, you could make out the distinct yellow police tape crossed over the frame. This was no crime scene, but the police had still had the room locked down… odd.
You figured they didn’t care enough. But maybe this guy had more connections than you were giving him credit for. He had been one of your father’s clients, after all. (Actually, that wasn’t enough to determine whether or not Yang was smart or not. Resorting to your father’s ever-generous solutions was stupid; and you were very well-aware that that made you stupid, too.)
Your father had sent you to this office for something in particular.
“Yang Eunhyuk was an idiot and a half,” your father had told you the day you had come to him. “But he knows how to hide his things when he needs to.” He had carefully relayed all of the necessary information to you as the two of you sat on the couch together to outline your next steps and what exactly he was asking of you. “He owes me a compilation of files and a burner phone.”
When you’d asked what for, there was that gleam in his eyes as if he found the question amusing. “Well, to find out who betrayed us, of course.”
“To find who killed Mom?”
He had nodded at you—waved his hand flippantly. “Yes. That’s the same thing, Yn.”
A burner phone and a compilation of files. Your father had already searched Yang’s personal place of residence, but there had apparently been nothing but “shit." So here you were… sorting through more shit.
You drummed the pads of your fingers on the surface of the desk.
“Where would he hide you, hm?” You murmured to yourself. You tried all of the drawers under the desk—four of the seven came up locked. The top three drawers were all filled with a smorgasbord of knick knacks and junk like a fidget spinner, fidget cube, a package of cigarettes, and even a used gum wrapper. (Gross.) You slipped a lock pick out from your sleeve as you considered the remaining four locked drawers, then realized that Yang Eunhyuk might not have kept your father’s files in the same place as his regular, ol’ case files.
And so, you moved away from the desk.
You figured there were specific places a lawyer would keep their most sensitive files to ensure discretion and privacy. You recalled how your late employer, Lee Sungjae, often had his most precious files stashed away in a place that was so obvious that no one would ever assume any person in the right mind would hide such things. For Sungjae, it had been a picture frame on the wall of his office, the one with him and his entire family pictured. It was cute; but when one peered behind it…
There was only one picture frame in the entire office space. It was small and it housed his law degree. You wondered if it was phony.
You decided to give it a chance and reached for it with a gloved hand.
When you took the frame off the wall, a frown slipped onto your face at the solid wall behind it. Huh. It was worth a—
You stepped backward and inhaled sharply when your leg hit the back of his cheap office chair. You managed to right yourself, but your ears had also perked up at a curious sound. You swiftly replaced the frame on the wall and knelt down by the desk chair and twisted your body to peer beneath it.
The sound you had heard had been a soft swish. It was subtle and not at all loud, but thanks to the empty office and your own hearing, you had picked up on it. It was practically a miracle.
Your heart pounded in excitement as you stuck your hand beneath the chair and felt up the bottom. There—you felt a distinct, padded folder—and there—
Your fingers wrapped around a small device no bigger than the palm of your hand. It must have been attached to the bottom of the chair with some kind of tape, and you gave it a good yank. And behold… in your hand was the alleged burner phone, staring up at you, just begging for you to sneak a peek into its logs. But before you could, you removed the file that had been hidden beneath the chair as well. It was a standard manila folder stuffed to the brim with papers and, you assumed, lots of sensitive information. Your eyes were widening like your smile as you just struck gold.
Not too bad for your first time in a while.
You startled at the sound of a thump.
There was a figure, a shadow, standing on the window sill by the end of the desk. He was familiar to you with his dark hair and domino mask, and his red and black uniform. His cape flowed from just off the precipices of his shoulders and hung around the backs of his knees—imposing and regal but not in the way of any movements he made. The Red Robin had stood before you just earlier in the day at Lee Sungjae’s suburban home. He had been the one with the familiar presence to you, along with his… colleague? You didn’t know his and Nightwing’s association or relationship, but you weren’t about to interact long enough to find out.
“Breaking and entering is illegal, y’know,” the masked vigilante mused, and you could just make out the shadow of his smirk in the darkness. “Even at crime scenes.”
You rose from your spot on the floor, slipping the burner into the holster pocket on the garter around your thigh and tucking the file in the crook of your arm. There wasn’t really a place you could hide the chunky piece of shit. Despite your heart palpitating in your chest, you maintained a cool exterior. He didn’t know who you were, and you expected that he wouldn’t be able to recognize your voice since you had only spoken to him once.
“Nothing done in Gotham is illegal,” you replied to him.
His head cocked to the side, arms folding over his chest. “You’re not wrong about that. But…” He nodded at the file folder. “I really can’t let you leave with that.”
Oh, dear god. You needed an escape plan—and fast.
Nothing was coming to mind; it was just get out get out get out! (Very helpful, as always.)
“I’m sure you can make an exception for me,” you said with a mocking pout. “How’d you even know I was here? I didn’t realize Yang Eunhyuk had a connection to Gotham’s exclusive Bat Boys.”
A scoff from him. “He doesn’t. Your luck just happened to be running out, sweetheart.” He stepped off the window sill and entered the office, stalking toward you with slow, methodical steps because he knew you were cornered. You really should have tried that office door when you had the chance.
As you began backing away, you shook his head and tsked. “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Give me the folder.”
“And I can go?” You wondered how fast you could disappear once you flung yourself out of that window.
He smiled. “If you give me that burner, too, sure.”
Your heart stopped for a millisecond. God damn it.
He must have seen the doubt in your eyes, and that fucking smile of his widened. Something about that was tug-tug-tugging a nerve. He stopped walking toward you as you slowly made a move to set the file down on the floor. “Good girl.”
The file flopped onto the wooden floor.
"Slowly," he drawled, eyes glued to your form as he watched your hand move toward the holster pouch.
All the while, you were counting down in your head.
Before he could blink, you swung a leg out and kicked the file back behind Red Robin and toward the window. His head swerved in that direction, and you launched yourself at him before he could realize his mistake.
You kicked at him, one-two, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a virus. He blocked your blows, just as you swung around and made a grab for his mask.
He caught your wrist; you whirled—it was a high stakes tango you had not been prepared for. But you jabbed your elbow behind you, fist flying up toward his nose. Every move you made was desperate and offensive.
You slipped free and ducked, body curling under his arm, under his cape, until you ended up in the flurry of the dark fabric.
The vigilante knew his own cape though. You gave him that much.
He grabbed the opposite end and arced it over your head, arm coming down to wrap you in it—but you threw yourself out of it, landing a swift blow to his shin. Wouldn't do much except make him curse and loosen his grip slightly.
The file was in sight—oh god, it was right the fuck there.
You made a mad dash for it, leaning down slightly and reaching out with your hand—
"Not so fast, kitty—"
You hit the floor with a curse, palms flat against the wood. His foot had hooked around yours and tripped you, his knee set against your back like his own palm as he held you against the floor.
You felt his breath by your ear. "What's in the file, sweetheart?"
"None of your concern," you gritted out, then throwing your head back until you heard and felt that telltale "fuck!" from Red Robin.
You ignored the throbbing in the back of your skull to fling yourself around and throw off his balance again. Your hand dove into your holster pocket to retrieve the small cylinder of mace, then sprayed it in a final move of desperation, breath and chest heaving.
The man sputtered, hand flying up to his mouth as he stumbled backward and tried to eject the chemical from his body. "Dirty fucking move," he spat as you turned tail and made for the file.
Only—
"Looking for this?"
Two others had joined the party, to your absolute horror. Nightwing stood with the file in his hand, while Red Hood—the vigilante from the bank, and supposedly Choi Yeonjun based on your deductions—was perched up on the window sill with zero care in the world.
Well shit.
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902186 · 5 months ago
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thinking about kurapika and chrollo and parallels and this circle of horrors where they are the victims AND the tools of their fates.
they both think they are neither or more like they don't care about it at all. they don't see themselves as victims, and they see absolutely no other way to live other than this role they took upon themselves. kurapika had such a strong sense of identity and what he wanted to do with his life and understands himself perfectly at all times. he was a part of his clan, but he was more an individual than anything else. kuroro, on the other hand, never knowing, never thinking what his motives are, deliberately not understanding himself and desperately holding on to the spider. he can't be an individual but with others, he can be the spider.
and for both of them, it all started on vengeance. kurapika abandoned himself in order to become a tool, a weapon, to avenge his clan, and to collect scarlet eyes. he stopped being himself and became his people. kuroro didn't know his family, didn't know where he actually came from, didn't know who he was or what he was supposed to be. so growing up in meteor city, he held on to his people strongly. and in order to avenge and protect his people, he would become a tool, a weapon, he would give himself to them. he started being himself as he became his people.
kuroro could be something for his people. and kurapika could be nothing for his people.
kurapika took on the role of judgement for vengeance. kuroro took on the role of villain for vengeance. kurapika acted his part by diminishing everything he was, and kuroro acted his part by filling up his identity with it.
but one thing stays clear and fixed with them throughout it all. they would do anything for their people. for whomever they consider their people. "he'll put his friends before his mission." a weakness kuroro sees in kurapika so quickly and so easily. but the same thing he considers a strength in himself. "i am not your top priority. it is the spider that must be kept alive." as long as his people are alive, his identity will live on. and as long as kurapika is alive, his people’s identity will live on.
"now you will get to experience the pain of losing your home." kuroro (and the spiders) killing the kurta clan set this parallel in motion for himself as the circle began for kurapika. and (speculatively) kurta clan hurting his people was what set the circle in motion for kuroro, too. now thinking about where they are in the story and how their end could be, it is very clear that they are finally ending up in a place where they mirror each other (as they have from the beginning) and they can recognise it in each other and themselves. kurapika ending up empty after his mission and kuroro ending up empty after losing spiders. both of them purposeless and with no self left outside of it. in a way, this is how the circle ends. "i can hear that he accepted death." they walk with death every day with no fear and full acceptance and after losing the only thing they live for, not even something they hold on to because they don't see a point in being alive outside of the fact that they must keep going for their people, for their purpose, and if not then there's no reason to exist, they are meaningless.
kuroro's vengeance left kurapika all alone, with everyone he knew dead, and feeling hollow at the end. by fate, he ended up all alone, with everyone he knew dead and feeling hollow at the end.
and at that point, they will have to start a new page and build a new self for themselves.
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ohnococo · 10 months ago
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Between Water and Wind | Satoru Gojo x F!Reader
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“He’s not good for you, baby.” You don’t say anything to that, there’s no reason to. He knows you don’t need to be told that, he knows the same things everyone knows. That Sukuna cheats on you, that he barely tries to hide it, that he’d lose his mind if he knew that you did the same.
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Sukuna isn't good for you, you know this, Gojo knows this. You can't leave him though, so instead you'll seek comfort in Gojo's arms in secret, even as he asks you to want better for yourself.
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Warnings: angst, unhealthy relationship, cheating (both getting cheated on and cheating), Toxic!BF Sukuna, vaginal sex, crying, revenge sex, pining gojo
WC: 1.2k
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Satoru Gojo can never stop running his mouth. You’ve loved it in the past, laughing at his antics, giving him the same back, but it’s the last thing you want right now.
“He’s not good for you, baby.”
You don’t say anything to that, there’s no reason to. He knows you don’t need to be told that, he knows the same things everyone knows. That Sukuna cheats on you, that he barely tries to hide it, that he’d lose his mind if he knew that you did the same. It’s different for you, though. You would have never done it if he hadn’t cheated on you first, and you didn’t do it. Not the first time he cheated at least, nor the second, but the third was the last straw for you. You’ve stopped counting at this point, because you know for every one you find out about - by going through his phone, or being told by a friend, or just knowing he’s lying about where he is and what he’s doing - that there must be more. Now you just take the heartbreak, knowing you’ll go where you always end up when he does it again:
In Satoru’s room, fucking all your worries away, if only for a moment.
“I am.” He looks up at you, pleading, before your pussy squeezing at his cock has him burying his face in your chest again, moans barely muffled for a moment before he’s back to begging you for more with those icy eyes. “I’ll be so good to you. So, so good.”
Sometimes he saves this for afterwards, when he’s made you cum until you’re almost convinced fucking him behind Sukuna’s back is an appropriate form of vengeance, even if he doesn’t know about it because he can’t. When he’s tracing patterns over your bare skin, almost pouting as he tells you all the reasons why you have to leave Sukuna. It makes it easier to snap out of that warm afterglow. The pit in your stomach that forms at the thought of trying to be without Sukuna helps push away that budding affection you try to ignore for Satoru.
Because it’s not easy. It’s far, far too complicated, and Satoru just can’t understand it. For him it’s obvious: Sukuna is a bad man. Sukuna hurts the people he cares about. Sukuna doesn’t even care that he’s doing it. So he hates him.
Unfortunately, the math doesn’t quite work out the same for you. You’d never felt as awful as Sukuna made you feel, but you’d also never felt as good, because when he loves he does it with his whole body. His whole soul. Like there’s no option other than being bound together forever because it would always be you. You didn’t think you could live a life where you didn’t get to bask under his glow when he happened to see fit.
Satoru almost makes you think you could, though. Especially like this, with his cock buried deep, because he’s got to fill you with as much of his love as you’ll let him, and this is the only time you let him. In secret, in the centre of his bed and on his lap, rocking your hips against him while he holds you close and pleads his case. He’s pleading your case too, really.
“He’s never gonna change… I’d never do that to you.”
You thought he understood what this was. That you couldn’t leave Sukuna. That you couldn’t even stand up to him. It was why you were sneaking around behind his back, seeking a hollow replica of strength to make up for how weak you were to him just as much as you were seeking comfort for what he kept doing to you.
The fact that Satoru let you seduce him time and again, knowing he was already yours from the day you met, wasn’t a revelation you could take. Not while he was thrusting up into you like that, wet mouth kissing and sucking on your breasts as he pleads and pleads until he’s breathless. He tells you every single time that he’s waiting for that moment, and would keep waiting for that moment, but you can’t let it come no matter how often he picks up the pieces Sukuna’s actions leave you in.
It makes you weaker, it makes you cry, and your tears are hot as they roll down your cheeks. You tilt your head back as you moan, hoping Satoru won’t notice and will assume your gentle trembling is just the orgasm that was steadily approaching as he fucks you tenderly. His perception is keen, though. Especially when it comes to this.
“See? He makes you cry.” He kisses at your tears as they reach your jawline, unable to unwrap his arms from you to wipe them away as he had so many times before. “You can’t love someone who makes you cry.”
He knows that’s not true. Unfortunately, so do you.
“I’ll never make you cry, I promise.”
He was already breaking that promise, but you can’t tell him that. You were hurting enough for the both of you, enough for Sukuna too because you know why he’s the way he is, even if Satoru won’t hear it. He won’t hear a lot of the things you tell him, or the things you tell yourself. He’s only listening for certain words from you: that you’ll leave Sukuna, that you want him instead, that you love...
You can’t even think it, much less say it, and you can’t hear anymore of his pleas while you were so close - so you tangle your hand in his soft hair and pull him into your crushing kiss. Deep enough to make his talking stop, deep enough to make your tears flow faster. It doesn’t matter right now though, with Satoru throbbing inside of you. He lets go of you for the first time since you’d entered his home, only to bring his hand between your bodies to slide skillful fingers at your bundle of nerves, and you’re breathing each other in as you let sounds instead of words convey your feelings.
It borders on too much, like it always does, body clenching, milking him dry, til you’re shaking and panting and able to push all of your worries aside for one brief moment with Satoru Gojo.
But all of the things that don’t matter right now will in due time. The confidence Satoru has in thinking he could pry Sukuna from under your skin if he tries hard enough. The glimpse of your heart that you give him even when you’ll have to hide it away again because it’s not his. The lies you tell Sukuna when you leave to see him, much more believable than the lies he tells you - if only because he wouldn’t even dream that you would do to him even half of what he’s done to you. And he’s right, in a way. He would lie, cheat, ruin you heart and soul, but he would never ever go and fall in love with anyone but you.
All of these things will catch up to you eventually, because Satoru Gojo can never stop running his mouth.
You know this, and it makes you scared for Satoru. It makes you scared for yourself.
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xxswagcorexx · 6 months ago
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ouaghhh,,.., holy shit do you have any high school alternate universe swagdoons,… 🥲
hi anon :D i am going to be real i don't read many high school aus but here's some that i enjoyed!
do you want somebody like i want somebody by treacherouna
Reddoons was never really someone for romance. Every time he thought about it, he didn't really see the appeal — and it's not like people haven't tried to get him to understand either, he's plenty attractive and he knows it, but he always thought that he'd much prefer them as friends than as romantic partners. Ash was just the new person in his class this year, with nothing standout about him, but from the moment Red first saw him he knew he was a goner.
prodigious birth of love it is to me / that i must love a loathed enemy by cheese_n_crack
The obligatory Theatre Kids AU, because Lifesteal needs more cliché fics. Or, Ash hates the new kid. Things go wrong very quickly.
TUSSLE! by starbamnk
“AUGH, RED-” “How d’you like that, bitch!” Red cheered as he struggled to find his voice again, fighting against Red's grip. “Red,” Ash managed, halfway between laughing and coughing, his face flushed from his lack of air. “Fuckin’ a- OW- asshole, you're choking me-!” “WHATTTTT-” - Spep misinterprets a situation, and Ash thinks it might just be the end of the world.
also here's some extras that are. Really stretching high school aus and swagdoons
digital in reciprocation by Anonymous (swagdoons only appear on like. 1 ch but they're super fun sooooo)
In Branzy's mind, there's that image again: Rasplin, engulfed in flames, still as if watching, and the burn scar in the linoleum floor he skirted around for days. Parrot's fist, about to make contact with his face. The red ink on the double doors. But Clown just laughs, in that same hollow way he had talked about vengeance and justice. "Oh Branzy, you don't have a choice in this!"
carry me to tomorrow by Anonymous (well they're not in high school but they are teenagers in this fic so.)
Ash chooses to trust himself to the unwavering night.
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caffienatedtree · 6 months ago
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When Bruce first started out the whole Batman thing, he saved a little boy from some street thugs who had a little too much to drink and not enough entertainment. He was one of the first children he rescued as Batman. A few days later he was patrolling around the same area when he sees the boy standing outside with yet another little boy, siblings, by the look of it. He spares them just another glance to make sure they’re okay and that’s when he’s spotted. He’s impressed, honestly. They wave him down.
“Mr. Batman,” the older one shouts.
“We have something for you Mr. Batman!” The other boy yells too, he can’t be older than six.
Bruce tells himself he’s just going over there to make sure the boy is alright, not because he’s soft. He’s tough, he’s vengeance, he can maybe spare a few minutes away from patrol. The boys beam at him when he stands in front of them. They hold out a piece of paper to him, which he takes cautiously. He almost starts crying on the spot, and the boys must sense this too because they seem to start panicking a little too and ask him if he doesn’t like it. Their hands twist anxiously as they await his verdict.
���Thank you, It’s… really nice,” Bruce tells them after a few seconds.
They whoop and high five each other, then the smaller one latches onto Bruce in a hug. Bruce stiffens up, his breath caught in his throat, his body expecting an attack. It’s… nice. Warm. He doesn’t know what to do with that. The boy looks up at him.
“Can I tell you a secret, Mr. Batman?” He whispers, “I was really, really, REALLY scared when Danny told me to run. But then you came and rescued us like BAM, and I knew we’d be ok.” He buries his head back into Bruce’s cape. “Thank you,” his words were muffled by the fabric, “thank you for saving us.”
————
Years later, Batman stares at the framed drawing on his desk, his hands stained with so much red he doesn’t know if they’ll ever be clean again. It’s not his blood, but how he wishes it was. Jason, his baby, his little boy, was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he says but no tears come, even though he feels hollowed out. Or maybe because he feels hollowed out.
“I’m sorry I failed you.”
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The Millennium Saga Book Four: Fate Weavers - a formal WIP intro
This is book four of The Millennium Saga! Intros for the first three can be found here: Firebreathers [X], Echoseers [X], and Goddess-Touched [X]
“It’s only happening to one piece of him at a time,” she says. “You take the left. I’ll take the right.” A bleary blink, as her words sink in. A flicker of hope—one I have to nurture, because I can’t handle the idea of losing it—and I join her in reaching for him, even as his extremities spasm and dematerialize in random, quick bursts. And together, we lift him up. Her sea-slick, shivering hand clasps my shoulder as I clasp hers, each with one of my brother’s arms thrown over our necks. Her grip is tight, even as her breaths are shallow, and mine still pants little clouds into the night air as we limp towards the shore. As we drag him—no. As we drag ourselves, because even accounting for the periodically-disappearing limbs, he’s easily twenty pounds lighter than he should be, his cheeks hollow and stomach concave and wrists sharp when they’re material. As we drag ourselves along, step by painful step, the rest of the world starts gradually coming back into focus.
Genre: High fantasy/Steampunk Target Audience: New Adult/Adult POV: First person present, Multi-POV Themes: Anti-Imperialism, trauma and recovery, hope and hopelessness, the stigma surrounding mental illness, the differences between vengeance, atonement, and justice, the separation between faith, religion, and deities, death and life and which one defines humanity more, and the struggle to rebuild after disaster.
Draft one in extremely early stages as of October 27th, 2024.
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A Flex is a life altering thing, on the off chance of survival.
A second Flex is almost unheard of.
An interrupted song; a plea from Death Herself; a single voice calling for understanding and forgiveness, lost amid the tide. And the savior, bedridden, while everyone who has just become survivor races to pick up the pieces of what he’s done.
And in the potential end that all diplomacy fails, that the land-walking people of the world must retreat inland and up-tree, there still need to be options.
To Andy, those options center airships. To Nimbus, they center hovertech. To Annie, it’s peace with The Shadow. To Isa, the wounded. To Ember, their family, safe, alive—a goal that feels further from reach every moment.
And to Lakia, those options center vengeance.
The ocean has yet to quiet. The Fourth Eternal has yet to show her face.
And time is running out for the world.
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The taglist for The Millennium Saga will now be maintained below the cut on this post! If you'd like to join it, let me know in which ever way is most comfortable for you!
In addition to that, you'll also find another version of the banner below, because while this one was my favorite of the versions I tried, I am quite proud of the glass and ironwork on the other one.
Taglist:
@ladywithalamp ; @lavenderrosewrites ; @47crayons ; @writeblrfantasy ; @ashen-crest 
@dragon-swords-prophecies ; @faithfire ; @lexiklecksi ; @writingrosesonneptune ; @trixierosewrites
Alternate banner:
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morgana-ren · 9 months ago
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What would gortash and Durge be like in bed?? I always like to imagine a on the path to redemption Durge, who is perhaps slightly more submissive now than they were. Allowing Gortash to absolutely be the rough dominating tyrant he is. No touching, no whimpering, no begging no nothing without his permission. Sit there in some tacky gold chains and warm his cock. If he ever so much as feels that cunt of yours twitch he's denying you for the rest of the night.
Be a good girl, get on your knees under his desk and Open that mouth. let him rest his cock on your tongue while he does some paperwork. Ah ah, no noise, no swallowing, he needs to concentrate.
I think before the mindflayer parasite there whole dynamic was alot more blood and teeth, both fighting for control, but now he gets to have them how ever he wants with all the control. Finds their attempt at being good a little pathetic but their memory loss makes them oh so vulnerable and gives him the perfect opportunity to sink those manipulative claws deep.
They wouldn't drop to their knees for him then, but they will now. He'll make sure of it.
Oh, before the parasite? It would have been a show.
Two powerhouses; the deserved chosen and avatars of Gods-- Rival Gods. Sex is power, and it is a struggle-- it is a fucking fight at the best of times, and the bedroom was an arena between two titans vying for complete and total dominance. Neither would kneel or bend for the other. They would take and claw and battle for the right-- and it's always a stalemate that ends with blood on the bedsheets and one swearing vengeance for underhanded trickery to their cackling counterpart.
Banites do not kneel before Bhaalists; Bhaalists do not bend for Banites. Both command an unyielding air of dominance. Around and around and around it goes. You only get what you can make them give you, and boy, is it convoluted when two mortal bodies want nothing but to sink fang, claw, and cock into each other but the Gods looming behind them demand acquiescence.
Oh, it was great fun for Gortash. There's something simply charming about having a bedfellow comprised of stone and steel and iron will that would not bow before his command. A never-ending game where the prize is always just out of reach-- just beyond the slip of his fingers. He found his consolation prize on the occasions he was able to force her on hand and knee and swaddle himself deep in the confines of her tight, wet body, the furious fires of her rage only serving to warm him with every merciless cant of his hips.
--Yet, there is something so overwhelmingly blissful about the victory of finally cradling her newfound vulnerability in the palm of his metal-laden fingers.
Fire and fury and death incarnate though she may be, she is as a lost little lamb on exile from her flock. Her shepherd has abandoned her, and so she wanders back listlessly to the last place she felt known-- straight into his grasp.
She is a weapon, honed to a fine edge, and there will be matters to attend to later, but for now, he intends to savor his victory.
She remembers little of herself, and knows even less, but he is more than happy to fill in the blanks of her memory-- rewritten to his whims, of course. Poor dear, so lost and alone, it must have been terrible. Those urges that claw and shred at your insides, being shorn of your sanity little by little as it skelters lost behind you, blown about by tumultuous winds of your profane blood.
He will keep her safe and secure, his hand to Bane-- but she must do as he says. Doesn't she trust him? Isn't he the only one she trusts? The only constant she remembers even as her memory was cruelly lobotomized and hollowed away? Surely there is some part of her that knows she can trust him. Is that not why she found him again?
She may not remember, but her body certainly does. She no longer fights the cries caught in her throat, nor does she stiffen the exquisite arch of her back. She takes him without guilt-- without fear of reprisal-- and it is something marvelous to behold.
She is unchiseled marble; an eager, emphatic little thing he shall turn into his own personal work of art through tender hand and discipline. Her mind is a blank book and he shall fill in the pages as he sees fit. As he has cared for her, she too shall care for him to his precise needs. He will make sure of that.
There is something utterly intoxicating about taming a pure predator. She will take him into her mouth but she wouldn't dare bite down to gnash at his flesh. She will not snarl or snap as he wraps a hand around her exposed throat and squeezes. She will not retaliate with claw when he strikes her and warns her to watch her tongue. She only nods, raw need and desire exposed like a tender nerve now that her scales have been shed away.
The golden collar is a gift. A reward for being such a good girl. After all, she always was, wasn't she? She has picked up excellently right where they left off, and she is so proud as he clasps it around her neck. Never mind the chain, my love, it is there to ensure you are safe; that you do not stray too far from where he might protect you.
She takes to her lessons like an obedient pup, and she doesn't seem to notice as the chain becomes shorter and shorter still.
He could not have imagined the resplendence of the sight of her eagerly on her knees, looking up at him with doe eyes and a wet, slack lip, and surely Bane must be pleased as he feels glory lapped upon him as a wave washes over sand. Bhaal's only beloved daughter turned into a concubine of Bane. He uses her in every blasphemous way that his mind can conceive of-- and he is a man of remarkable mental capability.
He has become adept at penning a missive as he cradles her in his lap, and she remains hushed with a perfect, practiced silence as she rides him slow and deep. He cannot have distractions, after all, and if she slips and becomes a little too emphatic, he corrects the behavior swiftly. He is so terribly proud of her ability to take him well into the hollow of her throat, suckling and laving through his throbs. He is expressionless and cold and she has learned to tell from body language alone when to slow her wicked tongue and when to drive herself to gagging.
He had always craved to have her in unconventional ways-- ways she would not entertain when she was of sound mind, how degrading-- and when he now demands she bend for him and beg him to take her there, she does. Her squeals and cries through bitten lip are wondrous, but the way she begins to steadily grind back against him, coaxing his fingers to fist in her hair or encircle her throat, begging him harder and deeper and to make a mess of her is his crowning glory. He practically ruts her ass into dust, driving her into the mattress in his unrelenting lustful haze until the noise surely reaches Waterdeep.
This proud creature brought to ruin just to serve him.
His, his, only his. Any way he needs her, any way he wants her.
There are still bits and pieces of her inside her rattled mind. Dusty remnants of a malevolent, domineering life once lived. The way her tongue swipes across her teeth to lick the crimson from ivory after he 'corrects' her. The flash of fire in her eyes when he commands her about, ripping her back by the hair until she cries in ecstasy from his treatment. The snarl of indignance as he tugs at her chain, demanding she crawl on hand and knee to placate him--
--and he would have it no other way.
A prize easily won is no true prize, and the beloved blood of Bhaal is his pride and joy. She is a lioness, and he would not see her forget it. He taunts and teases her to snapping only to put her back in her place at his feet once more. He stokes those fires deliberately, only to suffocate them with his presence to remind her that she breathes for him and him alone.
His perfect pleasure vessel-- and perhaps more. It's so terribly hard to think as she whines and croons beneath him, demanding more and more of him as he withholds deliberately. His spoiled, bratty little cockdrunk darling has forgone her throne of blood to sit her exalted behind somewhere far more convenient and pleasurable to him.
Still, she must be kept in line. She takes far too easily to demanding. A hissed word, a few bruises and a bit of blood leaves her glassy-eyed and pliable once more. Open legs, open mouth, open heart.
Oh, her daddy would be so utterly humiliated if he could see the things the Banite makes her scream for. Sometimes, Gortash hopes he can.
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dark-rider-pr · 2 months ago
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Riders of Fallen Dawn: Day 176
(introduction to the world)
AO3 link here
Rating: T Words: 1,325 Warnings: minor amount of sweaaring
Sabine reflects on how she got into the position she was in now, in a community, helping to keep so many people alive. I'm posting the introduction chapter here but if you;d like all chapters from the Halloween prompt month also on here let me know!
The coughing was probably the worst part of being in the apocalypse. 
Sabine’s lungs were failing, not because of the virus she had yet to contract nor is it because of the nuclear winter that was to roll in from Europe, but because of asthma. Fucking asthma. 
The End of Days was supposed to be done by them, the Dark Riders. They were meant to destroy the world, their true forms free to dance in the ruins of cities, breathing in air that was tainted with Garnok’s magic. Now? Now, Sabine could barely breathe normal magic-less air as her lungs spasmed. 
She shook the inhaler for ten seconds, or close enough because who really counts that when you’re having a fit, and on an inhale, pressed the can down. Inhaling the steroids helped open the organs back up and, whilst she could do without the shakes afterwards, the coughing stopped.
Her body, her mortal shell, was dying and there probably weren't enough people left in the world for her or her siblings to do another reincarnation cycle. 
The virus, called Aideen’s Curse (or Jorvik Rabies by the rest of the world), targeted magic users. As such, the druids at the start of the ordeal targeted the Dark Riders, blaming them for the virus when in fact…it might have been their precious Soul Riders. 
It’s merely hearsay at this point but the correlation between the Soul Riders and the Reincarnate disappearing whilst patient zero, Evergray, returned back to Valedale Village. Garnok would just pollute the world, turning it into a chaos realm that might also be viewed as a zombie apocalypse but this? No, this wasn’t Garnok. Or Sands. Or Darko before he was lost to Pandoria. Or even the Dark Riders themselves. 
The backbone of Dark Core wouldn’t shoot themselves in the foot by making a virus that forced you to suppress your magic. 
Sabine tried to stand up but her legs quickly wobbled and she fell back down on the bed. She was weak and weakness meant death in their world.
To starve a fire, you must deprive it of oxygen. That was what her body was doing to her in vengeance for denying her magical existence. But if the Dark Riders wanted to find the Soul Riders, the Light Ceremony Book and then free both Erissa and Garnok…it’s just what they’ll have to live with. 
Wind rattled the repurposed shipping container she was living in at the Valley Community, the cut out windows shaking from the force of the blizzard. Insulation foam had been sprayed on the inside and wood had been applied to give some sort of protection from the cold. There was a cheap electronic heater near her bed to provide some warmth but all Sabine really wanted was to let her magic out. She missed the way the fire raged inside, how alive she felt. 
Though Khaan was her silent steed, the Dark Rider knew he missed the fire as well. He was a little slower than their usual breakneck pace but thankfully, he wasn’t lame. Nor was Acerbus and Mortifa for that matter. The self imposed curse that the Dark Riders had put on themselves had avoided their horses and for all the magic left in the world, they thanked it.
Sabine curled up on her side, pulling the blankets and duvet back over her body as she watched the storm, thinking and mulling over what she knew. 
Could she risk just a little bit of flame?
No, unless she wanted to become a beacon for the Hollow Wood horde to try and break into the Hidden Valley. Not even Katja, someone that came from the Valley, part of its magical ecosystem in a way, wanted to risk it.
Magic users, especially strong ones, if bitten, would turn into “horde leaders”. They would guide the mindless infected, letting them feed off their magic until there was nothing left, allowing for a new leader to step up and take the role of zombie martyr. The only horde leader to not be eaten by its own compatriots was Evergray but he was a special case: the only stage 6. Well, technically, he was in a league of his own.
There was a knock at the door before it was pulled open against the wind, two figures stepping in and stomping their shoes to get rid of snow before pulling down their scarves around their faces. Sabine didn’t need to see their faces to know it’s her siblings. 
“Hey,” she croaked out, coughing a couple of times as she sat up. 
“Dr. Eiren said she could hear you coughing from a mile away,” Jay teased, putting their GED jacked up on a coat rack on the wall. “Wanted to check on you herself but a riding party came back looking rough.”
Sabine sat up, tossing her hair out of her face in concern. 
“Was anyone bitten?” 
“That’s what she’s checking for right now,” Katja said as undid her braid, running her hair through her fingers. “Shift over, it’s cold.” 
“No wonder you keep coughing so bad,” tacked on Jay, shuddering.
Sabine shifted so her back was pressed up against the wall, her knees tucked to her chest as she held back another coughing fit. Both Jay and Katja had stripped their snow covered outer layers and squeezed to sit beside their sister, tugging blankets over their laps and shoulders. 
The funny thing about the end of the world was how close people had gotten. It had always been the Dark Riders against the world but there were always jabs, sharp eyes and claws waiting to find and manipulate weaknesses. If Sabine had become as sick as she was now a year ago, Katja and Jay would be jostling to become top General. But now, with all three battling chronic illnesses, they had become…well…siblings again. Sure, there was still the rough housing but they had one another’s backs. It was just like when they were children, before Garnok, their Ascension and subsequent exile. 
It did mean that the sting of Erissa’s disappearance had worsened. 
The trio sat in silence, watching the blizzard continue until there was a beep and a voice coming through Sabine’s walkie-talkie. 
“Great,” the Dark Rider huffed. 
“I’ll get it. I’m closer,” Katja cut in, sliding off the bed to grab the device and toss it. 
Sabine caught it with one hand, pressing the necessary button. 
“What? Over.” 
The crackled voice of Justin echoed through the container and Jay rolled their eyes. Out of all the people in the community, Justin was one of the most irritating, mind numbing mortals they had to interact with…
Saying that though, his brief stint on the team meant he actually knew how to work with them.
“Loretta said she saw Ydris out by the manor. Lucid and alive. Sands wants you to head out once the blizzard is done. Over.”
“Yeah, and I’d like a fresh set of acrylics but that’s not gonna happen. We just finished a ride two days ago. Over.”
“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t like it either. Over and out.” 
Katja tactfully took the walkie talkie out of Sabine’s hand before she threw it, putting it gently on the floor. 
“Didn’t you say you wanted to try and find him,” Jay asked, playing with the dead ends of their hair. 
“Preferably on his own, miles away from a horde. He’s…he…” Sabine groaned, her hands clawing at the air in frustration. “We’re out here killing ourselves to not become a target and yet, he struts about like there isn’t some magical zombie virus.” 
The silver haired rider tutted. 
“Shame we don’t have magic…I still want to make that traitor whimper.”
“Mm, ditto. Every time he calls me ‘little dove’ I have the intense urge to stab him. Repeatedly.” Jay gave a harsh chuckle. “On the brighter side, he’s not a horde leader.” 
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himluv · 26 days ago
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DA Review Series: Vows & Vengeance
<<< Previous Review: The Missing
Here we are. The final review. The last little crumb of DA content I had to consume in my year-long journey to read, watch, play, and listen to all things Dragon Age before Veilguard's release.
For awhile there I didn't think I'd be able to to get it all done, but here we are with two weeks to spare. I don't know how I'm going to survive these next two weeks with no Dragon Age media, but I'm thinking of it as a sort of cleanse. A break to prepare mind, body, and spirit for what comes next...
Veilguard.
Title: Vows & Vengeance Writer(s): Will Melton and Jeremy Novik Publication Year: 2024 In-World Year: 9:45+ Dragon Verdict: I had a lot of fun with this series, despite its at times cringe-worthy writing and the occasional lore discrepancy. Is it a wellspring of lore and info? Not so much. But as an introduction to Veilguard's companions and key characters I think it's quite successful. But, successful doesn't equal necessary so you do you, boo.
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Vows & Vengeance follows thief Nadia Carcosa as she tries to save her lover Elio from the Fade. He's stuck there thanks to a certain Dread Wolf and the artifact he surreptitiously hired her to steal — the Eye of Kethisca.
After Solas's ritual goes wrong (this dude is a broken record!) Nadia meets Drayden Kiel, a scholar and historian with a particular interest in the Fade. Their hunt for the Dread Wolf and Elio takes them through much of Northern Thedas, and each episode introduces one of the seven companions in Veilguard.
I found all of the companions incredibly endearing and wonderful. Harding is so sweet and kind, but also a bamf. Davrin is strong and noble, but also extremely charming. Taash is an absolute badass and I can't wait to see more of her dynamic in the group. And of course, Neve is a stunner and not just for her fashion sense.
Bellara's episode was an absolute delight — as a longtime fan of the Dalish, hearing one of the People stand up and speak out against their colonizers was very powerful.
Obviously I LOVED the Lucanis episode, even if Antivan nobility having British accents was buckwild. What we heard from Lucanis told us so much about his character and I can't WAIT to get to know him better, if you know what I mean ;) .
Emmrich and Manfred were such a joy to meet. Their dynamic is so sweet and the kindness just radiates from Emmrich. I can't wait to play rock paper scissors with my little bone buddy.
It was almost unfair, honestly, because the companions were so loveable and Nadia... Wasn't. I really struggled with her, for a lot of the same reasons I struggled with Katara in ATLA. But Nadia doesn't have the excuse of being a child.
Nadia came across as very impatient, oftentimes mean, and incredibly short-sighted. She oscillates between being a know-it-all and being utterly uninterested in understanding what's happening around her. I wasn't really rooting for her, sadly. She was just the vehicle this podcast used to introduce us to these other characters.
I must add here that I absolutely loved Drayden and would be more than happy to meet them in Veilguard or other Dragon Age media in the future. But I am glad Nadia's "retired".
I also feel really bad for Elio. I don't feel like Nadia really processed the fact that he died and that it was her fault (and also Solas's). Or at least, we didn't get to hear her process that. And so her eulogy/vow at the end rang a bit hollow for me. Her emotion and her grasp at closure didn't feel earned.
But! I do want to say that shoving all these characters into eight 45-minute episodes had to have been an INCREDIBLE challenge. And, when compared to other Dragon Age tie-in media, this one is definitely not bad. I know I'm glad I listened, and that my Thursday morning drive has been the highlight of my week for the last eight weeks.
But now it's over. Just like this review series is over. The only thing left to do is sit back and countdown the days until we finally return to Thedas!
TWO WEEKS LEFT, Y'ALL!!!!!!!
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sisterspooky1013 · 10 months ago
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Loved. Lost.
Rated T | 1319 words | Read it here on AO3
Content Warnings: Child Loss, Suicidal Ideation
She can’t escape it. It’s on her skin, in her bones, in every breath she takes. It envelopes her, suffocates her, doubling the force of gravity on her body and pinning her in place. If, for one fleeting moment, she does manage to forget, it comes roaring back with a vengeance, slashing through her gut and disemboweling her, and she falls to the floor in agony. 
She still smells him on her clothes, still feels the phantom weight of his head against her chest. Her lips still tingle from the brush of her final kiss to his forehead, her arms won’t stop aching to hold him. Her heart sits hollow in her chest, eating itself alive to fuel her grief. She feels lost in her own body, trapped by the enormity of what’s happened to her. She can’t imagine ever being okay again. 
William. Mulder.
How briefly she held them both. How abruptly she lost them, one and then the other. How alone she is. How unfathomably alone. 
She thought she knew loss. Her father. Melissa. The months where she believed that the image of Mulder cold and ruined in a grassy field would be her final one of him. Where she faced the reality of raising a child who would never have a chance to know his father. She was so confident that it could not possibly get any worse than feeling William kick against her rib cage as she stood beside Mulder’s open grave. She was wrong. So painfully wrong. 
She wishes she could run away. Somehow outpace the constant reminders of the impossible choice that she made. Somehow evade the eventuality of telling Mulder what she’s done, even as she longs to see him with every fiber of her being. She wishes she could forget the look on her mother’s face as she tried, unsuccessfully, to explain. Wishes she could accept comfort from the only person she has left, if not for the guilt that churns up bile in her belly every time the phone rings. Her breasts throb, begging her to nurse, and his unscented baby laundry soap still sits on top of her washing machine, and her mother won’t stop calling, and she wants to run away from it all, but she can’t. 
There is one way out. One darkened path that would end her suffering. In the days when William was still safe in her belly and Mulder was dead to her, it was only the beating of William’s heart that kept her earthside. A life without Mulder was not one worth leading, and yet the instinct to love and protect her child—their child—overpowered her grief. Now, her child is gone, and Mulder is as good as gone himself, and it’s becoming harder and harder to find the will to continue living a life where each breath feels like punishment. It’s only when she imagines him returning from wherever he’s gone and learning that she first took his child from him, and then herself, that she re-commits to carrying on. He’s already lost so much. 
And so from father to son and back again they have passed the baton of her survival. When was the last time she lived for herself? She can’t remember. It’s too painful to try. 
She wonders if this is God’s plan for her. Is her suffering a test of her faith? Job was rewarded for his unrelenting faithfulness with prosperity beyond his wildest dreams. It’s only now, as a mother, that she realizes nothing man or God could do would make up for the loss of a child. How Job’s wife must have hated him for his sacrifice, how she must have grieved every waking moment for her ten lost children. But her grief wasn’t even worth a mention, wasn’t even worth giving her a name. 
Whether it was God’s plan or her own free will that had her pass her defenseless, innocent child from the arms of his loving mother to those of a stranger, she feels betrayed by Him. Abandoned. Alone. 
And yet, His plan or His gift of free will brought her to Mulder. Brought her to a love she could never have dreamed of, never even knew was possible. A love so powerful it left her gasping for air, clinging to him for survival. A love that made sex feel like a miracle, pleasure so complete that every exquisitely designed cell in her body lit up and exploded at once. Love that defied science and created life where no life was meant to be created. Love that could only be explained by divine intervention. 
But the loss. Reaching for Mulder across the mattress and finding only cold sheets. Startling awake to the ghost of William’s cries and panicking at the empty space where his bassinet should be, her hammering heart sending her to her feet before she remembers and the grief takes her out at the knees. The phone is always about to ring, and the door is always about to open, and any minute Mulder will walk in and hold her, pick up half the weight of this completely unmanageable pain so they can carry it together. She feels William crying for her, across miles and mountains, and she paces the room holding a stuffed bear, patting its bottom as a proxy. Her shirt will be wet with tears and milk that won’t dry up when the sun begins to rise, which it continues to do as though her world hasn’t ended. 
Would she give it all up if it saved her from this? Would she go back and turn down the FBI recruiter, take the well traveled path? The thought horrifies her. What she would have missed. 
Mulder’s smile the first time she told him she loved him, the way something changed in him, like a long held vacancy had finally been filled. His contented sigh when he pulled her closer in the dark and kissed the top of her head, and the way their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. Driving down a deserted highway at 90 mph blasting Queen and laughing until tears streamed down her face. 
She would have missed lying like parentheses around their infant son as he yawned and stretched his womb-bent legs, and the absolute look of wonder on Mulder’s face. She would have missed the overwhelming sense of pride at giving him something he’d been longing for since the age of twelve: a family. 
She would have never known the way William immediately quieted when he felt her touch, the way he relaxed against her like she was his safest place. She wouldn’t have heard the way his baby laugh was shaping up to sound just like Mulder’s, or seen her father looking back at her from his eyes. 
She wouldn’t have caught Mulder watching her as she nursed William back to sleep in the dark still of night. She wouldn’t have met his eye and smiled, and he wouldn't have smiled back, neither needing to say anything to understand that they were healing, her mother-wound and his both soothed by William’s satisfied grunts and his fist grabbing and releasing at the hem of her pajama top. It felt like magic, and it was. How could she possibly wish all of that away?
Unexpectedly, she finds solace in the fact that the depth of her grief is equal to the vastness of her love. How lucky is she, to have known a love that it hurts this much to lose. And when Mulder comes back, which she has to believe he will, she takes comfort in knowing that his love will also return to her. All is not lost. 
She answers her mother’s phone calls. After a time, she returns to work. She carries on, knowing that a life in which such a love exists is surely worth leading. 
It has to be. 
Tagging @today-in-fic
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ash-and-books · 8 months ago
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Rating: 5/5
Book blurb: The Shadowhunter Chronicles meets Chinese diaspora folklore in Darker by Four, the first in an epic contemporary fantasy duology from Jade Fire Gold author June Tan.
A vengeful girl. A hollow boy. A missing god.
Rui has one goal in mind—honing her magic to avenge her mother’s death. 
Yiran is the black sheep of an illustrious family. The world would be at his feet—had he been born with magic. 
Nikai is a Reaper, serving the Fourth King of Hell. When his master disappears, the underworld begins to crumble…and the human world will be next if the King is not found.
When an accident causes Rui’s power to transfer to Yiran, everything turns upside down. Without her magic, Rui has no tool for vengeance. With it, Yiran finally feels like he belongs. That is, until Rui discovers she might hold the key to the missing death god and strikes a dangerous bargain with another King.
As darkness takes over, three paths intersect in the shadows. And three lives bound by fate must rise against destiny before the barrier between worlds falls and all Hell breaks loose—literally.
Perfect for fans of This Savage Song and Only a Monster, Darker by Four will pull readers into a world of love and desperation and revenge—a world where every deal has a catch, no secret stays buried, and no one is exactly who they say they are.
Review:
A girl out for revenge, a missing god, and a hollow boy find their paths converging as they deal with magic, mystery, and friendship. Rui is driven by the need to avenge her mother's death, she has magical abilities and is training to become a strong exorcist to get rid of the revenant... particularly the one who killed her other. Yiran is from a wealthy and powerful illustrious family... however he is the bastard son who was born without any magic, making him the black sheep of the family. Nikai is a reaper, serving the Fourth King of Hell, he is even his friend... but when Four goes missing the entire underworld begins to crumble and he has to find him. Rui spends her days training and the only time she allows herself a moment of distraction is when she spends time with Zizi, the mage who creates illegal talismans that she tests out. Rui has been harboring a crush on Zizi for as long as she can remember, he is the boy who saved her all those years ago and he is the only person she truly feels comfortable with. Yet when she goes to tests out Zizi's newest talison/spell and a revenant attacks her and Yiran also happens to be there she does the spell and ends up transferring her magic into Yiran... and it might be a permanent transfer. Yiran now has the one thing he's always wanted: magic so he could be accepted by his family, yet he know's its not his truly and that if he doesn't learn to control bit it'll end up killing him. Yiran, Rui, and Zizi all find themselves working together to fix what has happened but when a king of the underworld appears and makes a deal with Rui.... things get complicated and secrets threaten to destroy the only love she's ever known and make her question the one boy who she's given her heart to. Can she find a way to get her magic back or will getting it back mean losing everything else? The first book in a duology and it was such a fun read, I loved the magic world that was created and the magic system was a unique one. I adored Rui and Zizi's romance and relationship, they were so cute and I can't wait to see where the second book goes and how everything progresses after the way this one ends. It's a fun read and I would absolutely recommend!!
*Spoilers: Four ran away from Hell to find out his beloved again (Four is Zizi and Rui is the reincarnation of the woman he loved). While Four became human he gave up his memories and hid himself, yet when Rui made the deal with Ten, one of Four's brothers, the truth comes out and Ten forces Four's memories back into him. Rui finds that she has new magical powers and after the deal with Ten is completed her magic is returned and Yiran is back to being magicless. Yiran feels betrayed and used while Four doesn't really remember who he is and what his responsibilities are. Rui and Zizi admitted they loved each other before Four's memories came back into Zizi. The guild covers up the hybrid revenant's attacks and claimed that Rui saved them all, and gave her a promotion to captain to hush her up but what she really wants is Zizi back. A hybrid revenant offers Yiran a new way to get magic and he seems to be interested. The book ends with Four's memories of old Rui coming back."
*Thanks Netgalley and HarperCollins Children's Books, HarperTeen for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*
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checkoutmybookshelf · 6 months ago
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Cul-de-Sacs are Bad Writing
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Ok, I have to be honest with y'all here. I didn't QUITE throw this book at the wall, but I WANTED TO. I don't know what HAPPENED with this book. ACOTAR was aggressively fine, if poorly paced and plotted, and ACOMAF was actually fun to read and enjoyable. Then we get to ACOWAR and the pacing and plotting problems are back with a goddamn vengeance, there are chapter cul-de-sacs that go nowhere and add nothing to the story or the character arcs, and SJM has this GODDAMN INFURIATING HABIT of just...picking up words that have specific meanings in specific contexts, going "that sounds cool" and dropping them places that make my extremely well-read, allusion-alert brain tweak in some extremely painful places because you can't just...APPROPRIATE WORDS LIKE "SERAPHIM" AND "MYRMIDONS" WITHOUT MEANINGFULLY RECONTEXTUALIZING THEM!!!! Not to mention that SJM murders the stakes of this book in their cradle. I swear to cauldron, this book was actually inexcusably bad. So let's talk A Court of Wings and Ruin.
So this is both your SPOILER WARNING and your heads up that this will be a RANT REVIEW. If you loved this book, this is not the review for you. Do not come crying to me that you weren't warned if you read past this point. This is also a CONTENT WARNING because there will be mentions and discussions of sexual assault because every SJM villain is also a rapist for SOME REASON.
I don't even know where to start with this book. I suppose...I suppose we could start with a few of the things I didn't hate. Oh, and the one thing I actually did like. That seems like a good way to begin.
The one thing about this book that I actually genuinely enjoyed was getting the foundation for Nessian. I was actually interested in Nesta's emotional journey because she had some goddamn agency in it. Like yes, she was yote into the cauldron against her will, but she never let go of her agency and she MADE it give her something in return. Like, yes girl, tell me more. Explore that. Dig in. And also, yes, I too am interested in the man-bunned jock who, when he is adulting, is a general and baddest bat boy on the battlefield. I enjoy their evolution from schoolyard hair pulling and insult slinging to actual partnership on and off the battlefield. I almost get a "he fell first, she fell harder" vibe from them, but their dynamics aren't fully cooked yet so don't quote me on that. Nessian was the best part of this book for me.
I also appreciated the setup and payoff of Nesta getting to absolutely annihilate the King of Hybern. There was something deeply satisfying about her taking his head off slowly and brutally for what he did to her and Elain. That was a great moment, even if the broader scene was in a part of the book where the stakes had long been dead and buried and the Nessian stakes in particular felt a little...hollow...as a result. Still loved the visceral, hands-on revenge murder for Nesta. Why yes, I did major in early modern drama and yes, I do have a thing for revenge tragedies. What gave me away?
Finally, can we PLEASE give Nesta the goddamn credit she deserves for single-handedly saving the High Lords alliance meeting? Because Feyre fucking blew it. She fireballed and everyone was about to bail and Nesta single-handedly saved the damn meeting through sheer force of personality. Girl understood the stakes and was the only one in the room who managed to get past the petty political and emotional bullshit and keep that big picture in mind. Nesta is a queen in her own right and frankly? She's a better Rhys than Rhys is in terms of actually trying to create a better world.
Sadly, we must now move on from the things I liked to the things I didn't hate. And there were actually a few, although they're more moments and little pieces of themes and character than actual themes and character arcs, because this book does actual themes and character arcs TERRIBLY. But. I didn't actually hate Amren getting to be high fae at the end of the book. Amren's whole deal was that she had to choose to be someone else to get out of the prison, and in the years she has BEEN Amren, I think she discovered that she really likes being Amren. The fact that she gets to be high fae Amren at the end of the book, that she gets to be the person she chose and likes? I can't not get behind that. The way we got there was inexcusably monster ex machina and SJM leaned WAY too hard on resurrections (Not even joking, when I was reading this, I live-reacted at my sister going "WTF AMREN!!" and her response was literally "give it five minutes, she'll be back".) in this book, but the core of "Amren gets to be the person she chose and liked" was good. I didn't hate that.
This might seem petty, but another thing I didn't hate was Feyre constantly crashing into trees, walls, and the ground while learning to fly. Some of these moments were genuinely comedic, some of them were nice little arrogance takedowns, and sometimes it was really just nice to see Feyre hit a hard surface at speed because lord knows I wanted to fling objects at her more than a few times this book. The pitfalls of learning to fly also felt real, grounded, and appropriately frustrating, so I didn't hate those scenes.
I also can't say I hated Feyre systematically dismantling both Ianthe's and Tamlin's credibility in the Spring Court. Was it shortsighted and ultimately counter to the larger goals of the book? God yes. Was it petty AF? Hell yes. Was it really straining the credibility of Feyre as "the people's hero"? YOU FUCKING BET YOUR ASS IT WAS. But all of that said...my God it was satisfying to watch Feyre show back up to the Spring Court and take it apart piece by piece. It's wildly unfair to Tamlin, but SJM seems to have appointed this poor 20-something with generational and personal trauma, leadership responsibility, no experience and no help as the series punching bag, and I can't fix that. All I can do is enjoy the petty assholery of Feyre taking his entire world apart (and shooting herself in the foot as she does so). (I was less enamored of Feyre beating Ianthe's hands into pulp instead of killing her. I am aware it was for plot reasons, but that was possibly the dumbest decision she could have made.) So while the early chapters of the book were objectively a Tamlin character assassination, those early chapters paced decently well and were fun in a petty, set-it-on-fire-to-watch-it-burn kind of way.
Another thing I super did not hate was Lucien. Lucien has always been an interesting character, and he shows himself to be capable of critical thought in this book, which we love to see! Then of course SJM writes him out for 85% of the book, so there's not a lot of time and space to love him.
Ooh, I also liked Bryaxis. Cool idea, great vibes, and I'm very much here for Feyre STILL NOT BEING ABLE TO INTERNALIZE NOT MAKING DEALS WITH FAE OR ELDRITCH HORRORS. Like...girl. You were warned multiple times, but now you have shadow kitty wanting pets. Did not hate anything about that.
Which...I think rather takes us to the end of the things I didn't hate about this book. Yikes, that is a short list. So if you're a Feysand stan or adored this book and somehow made it this far, I am going to respectfully suggest bailing now. I did not enjoy the rest of this book, and I'm going to explain why. If you're cool with that, we love to have you. If not, we will catch you next time.
For everyone who is still here, let's dive into ALL THE THINGS ABOUT THIS BOOK THAT WERE INEXCUSABLY BAD. And we're going to have to start with Rhysand, because dear god, what the hell happened. (And yes, I ended that sentence with a period. That sentence doesn't deserve a question mark.)
I thoroughly enjoyed cocky asshole Under-the-Mountain Rhys. He was a dick, he knew it, but he also had a sense of...idk, almost fair play that worked for him. I also am a big proponent of if you're going to write a cocky asshole, they better ENJOY that shit. "Hello Feyre, darling" was an A+ moment. It was the epitome of cocky asshole who knows he's a cocky asshole and enjoys it. I was tentatively on board with secret feminist Rhys in ACOMAF, but then we get to this book, and I just straight-up could not with traumatized bat bitch who was willing to completely toss his ideals out the window and retraumatize his found family for...reasons. In no particular order, these are the things I took issue with where Rhys was concerned:
Repeatedly traumatizing Mor and then INVALIDATING her very reasonable responses to him full-on not giving a fuck if the Darkbringer legion raped and pillaged their way across a battlefield, bringing Eris Vanserra into a meeting without warning her, opening Velaris to the night court, and invalidating her (heavily implied to be) sexual trauma and abuse by saying he'd have worked with Amarantha so she should work with whoever he tells her to. Like...holy shit Rhys, you say you're over here to help women recover and heal from these kinds of traumas, so WHAT THE HELL IS MOR TO YOU? All of this was shitty and Mor lets him off the hook way, way too easily. I'm not going to, though. Rhys was actively playing "my trauma was worse than yours" with Mor and that's a SHITTY thing to do to literal family--both blood and chosen.
Rhys letting Feyre off the hook for invading Lucien's mind. Let's be super real here: Feyre has been kind of a bad friend to Lucien from minute one. She has no boundaries, no ethics, and is possibly the worst person to have her particular set of powers. But it's not like she's getting EFFECTIVE HELP AND GUIDANCE from the one other person with that particular skill. She apologized to RHYS about it and he accepted the apology and told her she wouldn't cross the line again. Like...Sir. That was LUCIEN'S APOLOGY to either accept or reject, and I no longer love that you don't have ethics around this power use either. Shaky magical ethics are NOT GOOD. Adhere to them or don't, as is appropriate for a character, but like...have them well-established and strong. (It is possible I read Arrows of the Queen at too formative an age, but y'know, magical ethics are a thing I think about!)
Rhys's self-sacrifice obsession. This is one of those "your mileage may vary" things, but it absolutely did not work for me as a reader. I am too steeped in the "Dying for people is easy, it lets you off the hook" mentality to appreciate Rhys over here constantly going "If there is a price, I will pay it with my life." It also made fixing the cauldron REALLY fucking frustrating for me, because they had the five minutes to get the rest of the inner circle over there (or literally any of the other high lords or people with magic) to help. There was also an opportunity for a found family save, with Rhys going for the sacrifice play and the fam going "Hell no." But no, we had to LIE TO OUR WIFE and DIE. For all of about five minutes before we do a Twilight where "OH-EM-GEE FEYRE NOW YOU TRULY UNDERSTAND HOW I FELT UNDER THE MOUNTAIN" because apparently empathy isn't something Feyre is capable of...? I keep getting told not to try to logic this book, but some of this just defies even vibe reading, you guys.
I found Rhys a STRUGGLE and deeply unsympathetic this book despite a tragic backstory that should have done a lot of heavy lifting. Like, he's had some genuinely harrowing and traumatizing experiences. But then he invalidates other people's trauma and is super willing to INFLICT it on people. And he's not even got the courtesy to ENJOY it, so then I'm just over here drowning in angsty man pain that is in no small part of his own making...like there were moments I genuinely went "Did Rhys and Harry Dresden go to the same school of man pain?" I lack patience for this kind of non-self-reflective nonsense these days. I understand being protective of family and wanting your family to be ok, but Rhys gets smothery and toxic in ways that I am not here for.
Since a fair amount of my issues with Rhys are how he treats Mor, I think that makes for a decent segue into my issues with how Mor is handled. These come in two somewhat intertwined branches. The first is Mor's treatment of Nesta. The second is how SJM handles Mor's sexuality.
I'm going to say right here and right now, these books were DYING for LGBTQIA+ representation. These books are SO heteronormative, and adding representation would have been lovely...except that I would argue that the rep was handled poorly, leaned into harmful stereotypes, and poked holes in both Mor's characterization and the narrative structure of the book. I'm not here to disbelieve Mor when she says she prefers women, but finds pleasure with both men and women. I believe Mor. What I do think is that SJM coded Mor as straight for two and a half books, and that last-second pivot does a couple of things.
First, it calls Morrigan into question as a reliable narrator out of absolutely nowhere. Nowhere in ACOTAR or ACOMAF do we get a sense that Mor is an unreliable narrator. She has her perspective and biases, as any character does, but nowhere do we get the sense that she is hiding anything or lying. The inner circle TRUSTS her, that is established and shown. To suddenly have her go "Yeah, I've been lying to Cassian and Azriel for 500 years, and every time Azriel gets too clingy I sleep with a man where he can see to remind him to back off" is deeply toxic and this is sort of...never addressed? Not to mention that until this point, I had read Mor's leaning into open sexuality as a way to take agency and control after what her family did to her, and the reveal that she's bi kind of changes that into the "promiscuous bisexual who is often toxic" stereotype, which like...HATE THAT for Mor. The writing directly undercut something I was reading as strength and made it stereotype-y and toxic, and I hate that. And the book doesn't even address it! I could see a plotline in which Mor recognizing and addressing this toxicity and evolving herself and her relationships with the inner circle to a point where she is out, happy, healthy, and supported, and her boys are just happy she trusts them enough to be her whole self with them, but the book doesn't do that. It just reiterates stereotypes and keeps Mor with one foot in the closet and one foot out of it. LET MORRIGAN BE HAPPY AND HEALTHY AND HER WHOLE SELF!!!
And for the love of god have her stop actively being nasty and aggressive at Nesta over Nesta's interest in Cassian. That was uncalled for on every possible level. Before we get the bi reveal, it was the tired, toxic, girls fighting over a man thing. Afterward, it's another really ugly layer of Mor trying to keep Cassian trapped as a permanent buffer between her and Azriel. Literally nothing about this dynamic is good, but again, the book just kind of...presents it and does nothing with it. And I really don't love that because the potential for strong communication and growth in the inner circle dynamics was THERE and it was INTERESTING and then it was SQUANDERED in favor of the Feysand show. And it's not like there are any other characters to give another perspective on this--we just have Helion who also falls into that bisexual stereotype. So I would have loved some more representation here, but the representation we got was...not ideal.
I also have a bit of a bone to pick with the Illyrian wings. They got SO SET UP as delicate and difficult to fix if you fuck them up. But then all three of our bat boys have them absolutely shredded in this book and like...it's not fun but it's also not given the weight I'd have expected from how they were built up in ACOMAF.
We cannot talk about this book without also talking a little bit about the bigass High Lords Alliance Meeting. This thing got SO HYPED in the first half of this book. Like it was constantly being talked about, planned, and reiterated in terms of its importance. I was expecting an actual discussion about politics and alliances and the practicalities of working together to defeat Hybern. And in SJM's defense...we do get a little bit of that. But MOSTLY what we get is high-school level sniping, aggravated assault, and FEYRE FUCKING FIREBALLS BERON. Which pretty much could have torpedoed the meeting except for Nesta. NGL y'all, I was SO LET DOWN by this whole series of chapters. But at least these chapters had actual effects on the story...unlike the next bunch of scenes and chapters.
The latter half of this book, and particularly once the war gets going properly, this book is FULL TO THE GODDAMN BRIM of cul-de-sac scenes and chapters that go nowhere and affect the status quo not at all. Big standout examples of this include Elain getting kidnapped by Hybern and Rhys being dead for like five minutes.
Elain getting kidnapped by Hybern was literally just payoff for Feyre's flying lessons. Which didn't end up mattering anywhere else. Az and Feyre do a quickie side quest to rescue Elain and some random girl and Az gets his wings shredded, but it's ok, they have healers and he can *checks notes* MAGICALLY PATCH WOUNDS LONG ENOUGH TO GET BACK. Sure. Whatever. At this point I didn't even care, nothing mattered and there were no stakes. They get Elain back. It's fine.
Rhys was dead for less than ten minutes. Holly Goddamn Short could have brought him back easier than she brought Butler back. And it's not like we genuinely thought that Rhys was going to die after all that, this isn't that kind of book. Literally I'm so pissed off though, because SJM full-on did the whole, "Now you know what I went through when you died under the mountain, Feyre" thing. Like...is empathy not one of her skills? Or is Rhys so insecure that he can't imagine empathy without a 1:1 experience relationship? I hated this so much because it was dumb, it isn't how EMOTIONS work, and frankly? Why didn't Rhys want to SPARE her that experience? Because it sounded like it sucked.
I also need to address the Jurian/Mirayam/Drakon/Seraphim thing. It was underdeveloped as hell, doesn't come to a satisfying ending, and "OOPSIE POOPSIE OUR SHIELDS DON'T HAVE FRIEND FILTERS" so they were exactly where they were meant to be the whole damn time was fucking infuriating. This either needed development or to be left in draft, and at this point I don't care which.
Finally, the end of this book just felt limp. We half-assedly attempted to get everyone to renegotiate the treaty, and then went back to Velaris and broke out the good stuff. It is possibly the limpest ending I've read in a longass time.
This book didn't need to be this long. There was too much padding and not enough development, and a lot of it was just infuriating. The Mirror of Ouroboros was super underdeveloped, the character dynamics got driven into the ground, and the writing was deeply problematic on a bunch of technical levels. I have NOT forgiven the use of "twisted" or "Seraphim" or "Myrmidon" wildly out of context. These terms do not just...decouple from their connotations and contexts because SJM think they sound cool and yeet them at a book. The truly infuriating thing was the squandered potential after ACOMAF, because I genuinely enjoyed that book. I can't say the same of ACOWAR.
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