#as well as blood and self-harm and show-typical violence

[aurumcalendula]

War of Hearts | Nv Er Hong (2023)

premiered at CON.TXT 2023!

(password: AurumCalendulaVids)

AO3 | DW

[edenesth]

Until Death Claims Us

Pairing: vampire!Hongjoong x human!reader (+ a bit of boyfriend!Seonghwa x girlfriend!reader)

AU: vampire au

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: You were a fool to believe you could save him. You should have heeded everyone's warnings to run, but now you found yourself in need of saving—from him, the very embodiment of the devil.

Genre: angst, horror

Rating: Mature (M)

Trigger Warnings: violence, implied sexual assault, emotional abuse, kidnapping, gore and blood, coercion, isolation (being trapped/cut off from loved ones), substance use, death, self-harm, suicidal thoughts

A/N: Happy Halloween, folks! This contains dark themes and is not my typical cutesy little romance fic (been feeling violent lately), you've been warned.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

"You're being such a good girl today," he taunted, pulling back slightly from your neck. The skin was bruised and ruptured from his relentless biting, a trail of blood staining the silk of your robes. "I wasn't expecting this—especially after the little show we put on for your poor loverboy yesterday. What was his name again? Park Seonghwa, wasn't it?"

You lay still beneath him, your gaze fixed on the familiar ceiling you'd come to know all too well during each struggle, each time he took you against your will.

"It's over, Hongjoong," you murmured, and his grin only widened as he licked his bloody fangs, mocking. "Over? For whom? You know you're mine, don't you? I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever, my pet."

A small smile crossed your lips. "Exactly. I'm counting on that. I don't plan on leaving without you either. I won't let you hurt or threaten the people I love again—my boyfriend, my brother, my best friend..."

His eyes narrowed at your words. "What are you—" But before he could finish, the poison you'd ingested began to take hold, creeping through him bit by bit. He gasped, his hand clutching his heart. "Wh-what have you done?"

You chuckled bitterly, a trickle of blood trailing from your nose. "Wolfsbane and monkshood, enough to kill us both within the hour."

He gasped at your words. Vampires were immune to many things, but the herbs you'd named were among the deadliest known to any living thing—even to his kind. His claws flew to your neck, tightening as he growled, "Are you out of your goddamned mind, woman?!"

You smirked humourlessly. "Go ahead. End me now. It'd be a mercy."

Realising the force of his grip on your throat, he released you quickly, a shaky hand brushing your face as he noticed the blood trickling from your nose. If the poison was already taking a toll on him, your mortal body must be suffering a thousand times worse. "Do you really hate me this much?"

You shook your head, pulling your face away from his touch, but he only grasped you again, forcing you to meet his gaze—just as forceful as ever. That was the Kim Hongjoong you knew. "You're joking, right? You took me from my family, my friends, my… my lover, and forced me to stay by your side, to be fed on and used as you pleased. What else could I feel for you?"

He furrowed his brows, the pain in his chest intensifying as he struggled to keep his focus. "But, darling, I did it because I love you. I've told you over and over. If you weren't so stubborn, you could've been my queen. I was going to turn you—"

Tears of disgust welled up in your eyes as memories of this endless nightmare resurfaced. Weeks, months… you'd lost track. Maybe your family would know how long you'd been gone. "Love? You call this love? You don't torture someone you claim to love. You don't even know what that word means, you monster!"

Regret.

Immense, suffocating regret was all you felt. It had consumed you from the moment you'd fallen into Hongjoong's trap, ensnared by his cunning words and dark allure.

It hadn't always been this way.

⸸

"Ow!" you yelped, clutching your scraped knee as you eased yourself into a sitting position, recovering from the clumsy fall. You should have watched where you were going, but your mind had been lost in thought, still sulking over your cancelled plans. Your boyfriend had last-minute work obligations, leaving you disappointed after you'd looked forward to your date all day. Worse still, both your brother and best friend had their own commitments, so you were left to walk home alone, wishing Seonghwa were there to pick you up.

"Hey there, you alright?" a warm voice interrupted, and you looked up to see a stranger standing beside you, his hand extended politely, yet without touching.

And that was how you met him, on a chilly autumn evening. Kim Hongjoong had been so kind, so gentle, as you spilt your frustrations to him. He listened with a soft smile, guiding you to a nearby bus stop, supporting you with a careful hold, and tending to your wound with a small bandage. Before leaving, he draped his coat around your shoulders, leaving you with a comforting warmth.

How sweet of him.

What you didn't know was that as he walked away from you that night, his soft smile faded, replaced by a dark scowl. His fists clenched at his sides, and he cursed himself under his breath. He had planned to drain you right there on that empty street; it was the sweet scent of your blood that had drawn him to you in the first place. But the moment he saw you—eyes wide, vulnerable, and tangled in frustration—something inside him shifted, and he had done something he'd never done before: he spared his prey.

Had it been any other woman, she would have lost her life in an instant. It went against his nature to let a meal walk away unharmed. But you had been different somehow, your innocence tugging at some long-buried part of him he'd rather keep forgotten. "Pathetic," he muttered, disgusted with himself, before casting a glance over his shoulder, watching you as you disappeared from sight, his coat still wrapped around you.

"Another time," he murmured to himself, eyes narrowing with resolve. If he saw you again, he wouldn't hesitate.

Another time, human.

"Babe? What's this?" your beloved's voice called out, and an instant smile lit up your face as you turned to greet him that evening. "Hwa, you're home!" But as you tried to rush to him, a sharp pang in your knee held you back, and his eyes quickly caught the slight wince. In an instant, he was at your side, Hongjoong's coat discarded on the chair beside you.

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, worry furrowing his brow as he knelt beside you, inspecting the bandage.

You laughed sheepishly. "I may or may not have tripped over my own foot. But a kind stranger helped me out—he's the one who gave me his coat." You nodded toward the garment that Seonghwa had been eyeing earlier. "He found me by the side of the road, got me to a bus stop, and made sure I was alright before he left."

Guilt flashed across your boyfriend's face as he cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. "I'm so sorry I had to cancel, baby. It's my fault you were out there alone. Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, leaning into his touch. "Not anymore. You're here now, and that's all that matters."

His expression softened as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Well, I'm just relieved someone was there to help. Good thing that man found you."

At the time, you nodded in agreement, warmth spreading through you at the thought. But if you had known then what you knew now, you would have wept, realising that this was only the beginning of a nightmare you could never have anticipated.

⸸

Falling into his orbit had been so easy.

"It's you!" you beamed as you stepped out of your workplace, your face lighting up at the sight of the kind stranger who had offered his coat and helped you just days before. The man smiled, his expression warm and charming as he nodded.

"It is me. I was just passing by and noticed you finishing up your shift," he said. "Heading home now?"

You nodded, stepping closer. "I am! And I actually have your coat all cleaned and ready, but I didn't bring it with me today. I can return it to you next time you pass by."

He chuckled, his gaze unwavering. "Why wait? I'll walk you home now, and you can give it to me there."

Maybe you should have been more cautious about leading a stranger to your doorstep. But he was your saviour, after all—surely you could trust him… right? If only you had thought twice back then, if only.

"Would you like to come in for a bit? It's a little chilly outside; let me just grab your coat real quick," you said, hurrying inside, leaving the door open behind you as you went to find it. Unhurried, the vampire stepped in, his eyes alight with satisfaction. Your scent filled the space, sweet and intoxicating. He took a slow breath, biting back the urge to sink his teeth into you right then. How awfully trusting you were—it made him want to draw this out, savouring the game.

He wandered into your living room, pausing at the wall lined with photos. His gaze darkened slightly as he took in the images of you with another man, holding you close, kissing you in some. Ah, yes, the lover. His lips twisted in a faint sneer, though when you returned with his coat folded neatly in your arms, he met you with a polite smile.

"Let me guess," he said smoothly, pointing to a photo, "this must be the lucky guy who had to cancel on you that night?"

You glanced at the picture and nodded, smiling. "That's him—my boyfriend. He was really grateful you were there to help me out."

Hongjoong's grin widened ever so slightly, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Grateful, is he?" he murmured, his voice silky, almost too smooth.

But you missed the glint of slyness in his tone, sending him off with a wave and a warm smile. Later that night, the vampire clutched the coat to his face, breathing in your scent with a low growl, his grip tightening. He hadn't realised until now how intoxicating the pull was, but he knew one thing for sure: this coat would never leave his grasp again—not until he had you for himself.

Once again, he had spared you.

But this time, it wasn't mercy—it was control. He'd see just how long you would continue to trust him, let him in. And then, he thought with a twisted smirk, he would show you exactly who he was as he drained every drop from you.

If you thought that would be the last time you'd see him, you were sorely mistaken. Almost every evening after that, he would appear outside the cafe just as your shift ended, leaning against the lamppost as though he'd been waiting.

"Want some company on the way home?" he'd ask, his voice always gentle, words wrapped in warmth as he mentioned it was on his way anyway.

And so, you'd let him walk beside you, night after night. He always seemed to know just what to say, as though he could read your mind. Every word was perfectly timed, his soft laughter like music that drew you in before you even realised it. He began to open up about his life, weaving tales of heartbreak and loneliness that tugged at your heart, his voice so sincere that it was easy to believe him.

"They say life is easier with someone who truly understands you," he'd murmur, eyes dark and searching as he glanced your way. He'd mention how it felt to be isolated, misunderstood—and somehow, it felt like he was talking to you, like he was a lost soul just waiting for the right person to come along.

And he'd pause, his gaze softening. "It's rare to find someone who… just gets it, you know?"

You'd nod, heart aching, wanting so badly to be that someone, to fill that void you thought you saw in him.

You had no idea then that he was slowly slipping under your skin, blurring the lines of trust and intuition until you found yourself more invested in him than you ever thought possible. That he wasn't seeking connection or friendship—he was weaving a web, each thread perfectly placed. And all along, his hunger lay just beneath the surface, patiently waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

If only you had known what it meant to be the "friend" of a vampire.

⸸

Then there was that night in the park.

You'd found him sitting alone on a bench, his figure slouched, his head bowed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. His expression was distant, empty, as he stared down at his hands—hands that seemed unblemished but, if only you'd known, had just left a trail of lives snuffed out too soon. No human could have sensed it, but his hunger for you was unmatched, something primal that no other blood could satisfy, not even the hapless souls he'd claimed just hours before.

But you, blissfully unaware of the darkness around him, only saw someone you thought of as a friend. Someone you might save, if you showed him kindness. Your heart ached at the sight, and you quietly sat beside him, reaching out to take his hand. His fingers were cool against yours, a chill that settled into your skin, but you brushed it off as a sign of the evening's autumn air.

"Everything alright, my friend?" you asked, your voice soft, filled with worry you didn't understand.

He didn't even glance up, yet he squeezed your hand lightly, as though your presence had grounded him. "I… I think I might've done something I'm not exactly proud of," he murmured, his voice trembling just enough to pull at your heart.

You sighed, your thumb tracing small circles on his hand, offering him a gentle squeeze without pressing him to share. "It's okay, Joong. I… I know your life hasn't been easy. Whatever it was, you probably had no choice." You gave him a small, reassuring smile. "Nobody's perfect. I just want you to know you'll always have a friend in me."

As you spoke, he finally looked at you, but there was a sharp glint in his eye, a brief, almost predatory gleam that flickered just for a moment. And though you noticed the faint trace of crimson near his collar, you dismissed it as a trick of the streetlight or perhaps a stain from a spill. Why would you have thought any differently?

What you didn't know was that every word, every gesture, was like fuel to his fire. He'd lured you in, time and again, feeding off your kindness, growing closer with each moment, all the while concealing what lay beneath that soft, gentle exterior. And you, too blinded by trust, saw only the broken soul he wanted you to see, never realising just how deeply you'd fallen into his hands.

If you'd known what he was hiding, you'd have run. But then, if he had his way, running wouldn't have saved you.

⸸

Regret. Deep, suffocating regret washed over you as you recalled how blindly you'd trusted a stranger you barely knew, dismissing every warning from those who loved you.

"Babe, I really don't have a good feeling about this guy you've been talking to," Seonghwa murmured one evening, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you washed the dishes. "I know he helped you that night, but his actions lately…"

You'd bitten your lip, drying your hands before turning to embrace him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "I know it seems strange, Hwa, but he honestly just feels like someone who needs a friend. Maybe I'll introduce you two someday."

You had brushed off his concerns, convincing yourself you were just being overly cautious. How could you have known then what lurked beneath Hongjoong's warm smile and attentive gaze? The way he listened, the kindness in his eyes—it all felt genuine. But now, those memories were shadowed by the haze of your own naivety.

Thinking back to Seonghwa's concerned eyes and protective arms, the ache in your chest deepened. He had only wanted to shield you, to keep you safe, but you'd shrugged off his worries like scattered autumn leaves that night in the park. How could you have ignored the instincts of those who loved you?

You remembered your brother's warning too. "He knows you have a boyfriend, right? Then why is he still so…" he sighed, catching the frown on your face. "Just be careful around him, noona." His brow had been furrowed, his voice tinged with the protectiveness you’d come to expect from him.

Even your best friend had weighed in. "Gurl, he's hot, single, and lonely? Maybe he could use someone like me as a distraction!" she teased, laughing before her face turned serious. "But honestly, your brother and Hwa are right. You don't know him that well. Stranger danger, babe. You shouldn't be so trusting."

At the time, you'd laughed it all off, buoyed by a sense of invincibility in your own trust and optimism. But now, standing face-to-face with the darkness beneath Hongjoong's charm, the weight of every ignored warning settled heavily on your conscience. He'd played you, twisted your kindness into his own weapon, feeding on your good intentions to serve his own dark needs. If only you had listened.

⸸

"I find myself in a dire situation and in need of your help. If your words are sincere and your care for me as genuine as you've claimed, then please, come to me at once."

You should have heeded their warnings on that fateful day. As you picked up the note outside the cafe, your name scrawled across it, you noticed the handwriting—almost ancient, as if penned with a quill. It was signed by Hongjoong and carried an urgent request for you to come to his residence immediately.

As you read, questions flooded your mind.

First, why had he never exchanged numbers with you? Did he even own a phone? You realise now you've never seen him with one. His communication felt so… archaic. Perhaps he was simply a fan of old-fashioned ways, though the thought brought little comfort.

Then there was the urgency—what could he need you for so desperately? If he'd come all the way to leave the note, why not just speak to you? It struck you then that he'd never entered the cafe, never bought a drink, or even lingered to chat.

And the address… secluded in the middle of nowhere. Why would he live so far from everyone? A shadow of doubt tugged at you, urging you to reach out for advice from those who cared about you. But against your better judgement, you let the image of his pleading, dark eyes linger in your mind. Before you knew it, you were on your way, heart racing with anticipation and dread.

Each step felt heavier than the last, the echoes of your loved ones' warnings circling through your mind. Yet you pushed them aside, drawn by an inexplicable pull to see him again. It was as if you were stepping toward a dark abyss, its presence invisible yet pressing close. The setting sun cast long shadows, stretching as if to hold you back. But the illusion of connection, once so warm and real, propelled you forward.

As you reached his residence—a grand, ancient mansion, the air turned colder, a chill that crept down your spine. You paused at the door, dread settling in your stomach as if the very walls whispered the warnings you'd ignored. Was this a terrible mistake? You took a deep breath, pushed aside your hesitation, and knocked, the sound seeming to dissolve into the gathering twilight.

"You're here, at last, my dear," he murmured, voice dripping with sarcastic satisfaction. He turned, and in an instant, the false warmth vanished, twisting into a grin that revealed razor-sharp fangs.

"I've been waiting. And I'm starving."

⸸

Has it been days... or weeks?

"Wh-what the hell are you doing...?" you choked out, pressing a trembling hand to your neck to staunch the blood trickling from the bite he'd left. You were sprawled across his bed, barely able to move, every ounce of strength drained from you. Above, he stood with your phone in hand, snapping photos of you with a twisted, relished focus—capturing every vulnerable angle as if he were savouring an art piece on display.

"Making a collection to send to your little boyfriend, of course," he said, tone laced with mockery.

Your heart plummeted at the mention of Seonghwa. "N-no..."

Hongjoong smirked, his eyes dark and cold. "Oh, don't worry, darling. He wouldn't dare interfere if he knew what was good for you. And you'll behave yourself too, won't you? Wouldn't want anything happening to your precious family and friends, after all."

It hit you then—the grim reality. Your life as you knew it was over. He was a centuries-old monster, a bloodthirsty fiend who had you completely at his mercy. You were a mortal trapped in his web, no longer a person but a mere vessel to sate his hunger and whims.

Escape was a fleeting dream; you were too weak, too vulnerable. But in the dark corners of your mind, one thought persisted—an escape of a different kind. If you could somehow slip from this existence, you might at least put an end to this misery. Yet a lingering fear held you back: Seonghwa, your family, your friends. Were they still out there, searching for you, hearts heavy with worry? The thought of them stepping into this nightmare in a desperate attempt to find you gnawed at your soul.

You could take any fate for yourself, but the idea of your loved ones in harm's way was a weight you couldn't bear. So you swallowed back the dread, praying that they would find peace, that they would move on, even if you couldn't.

⸸

"Smile, darling. Loverboy has come to see you."

You gasped, a weak cry escaping your lips as his weight pressed you deeper into the mattress. You could barely push back against him, every ounce of strength drained, yet you clung to the disbelief—he couldn't have brought Seonghwa here. Not to witness this, not to see you in this state, drugged and used as Hongjoong's plaything. It had to be another one of his twisted games.

But as you turned your head to the window, horror struck you. There, just outside, stood your boyfriend. His eyes were wide, a mix of shock and agony contorting his face as he registered the scene before him: his first love, his entire world, bare and broken beneath another's hands.

A strangled sob left you as you watched him stumble back, his gaze a shattered mess of disbelief and betrayal. And then, without another glance, he turned and fled. The monster above you let out a dark chuckle, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips before pulling back with a smug, twisted satisfaction.

"And there he goes," he murmured, the words dripping with poison. "That should do it—no more foolish rescue attempts, no more endless searching. Just you and me, my dear. Don't worry; I'll take care of you from now on."

You lay there, his words echoing in your mind, the last remnants of your heart breaking into pieces. Your tears spilt freely, soaking the pillow beneath you as the reality sank in. With your boyfriend now gone, the final shred of hope and sanity within you slipped away. Yet, beneath the ache, something sharper flickered to life—a resolve you hadn't known you could possess.

The emptiness left you with nothing to lose. Hongjoong thought he'd finally won, thought he had you in his grasp forever. But he didn't know the lengths you'd go to escape him, the price you were willing to pay.

As your tears dried, you knew—if this was to be your end, he was going down with you.

⸸

Staring down at the wolfsbane and monkshood you'd collected, carefully wrapped in a small piece of parchment, your hands trembled. This was it. Once you took them, there would be no going back—the amount you'd prepared was enough to kill a bloodsucker within an hour, let alone you, a mere mortal. You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself to swallow the bitter herbs.

But just as you brought the packet closer, footsteps echoed down the hall, deliberate and unhurried. Heart racing, you hurriedly tucked the packet beneath the bed, barely managing to slide it out of sight as Hongjoong sauntered into the room, his gaze settling on you with that ever-present glint of sadistic amusement.

"Aww, look at you," he purred, eyes narrowing with mock sympathy. "Missing loverboy already, hm?" He let the words linger, watching the tension twist in your expression. "I am sorry he might not return the sentiment. Not anymore. Maybe you should just focus on me, darling." He crawled onto the bed, his movements slow and taunting, each slithering inch bringing him closer until his familiar, bone-chilling embrace enveloped you once more. The kind of hold that wrapped around your very spirit, pulling you down like an anchor.

The image of Seonghwa's face, etched with horror, surfaced in your mind, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. How could he have been forced to see you like this? Swallowing hard, you clenched your fists, determined not to give this monster the satisfaction of seeing your tears.

But his lips grazed your neck, chilling as they pressed over the bruised, unhealed bite marks that would likely never get the chance to heal. A shiver raced down your spine. The coldness of him… It was like every hope of escape was slipping further away.

"Joong…" you whispered, voice barely audible. You felt him freeze for a moment at the sound of his name, the way you'd once used it back when you'd believed his act. Back when you'd truly cared for him. The silence stretched, the flicker of tension you'd caught in him melting back into amusement.

"Before I came here... before all of this…" your voice cracked, but you forced yourself to continue, needing to see if there was even a fraction of humanity left in him. "Was there ever one moment where the side you showed me was sincere?"

His eyes darkened, amusement shifting into something almost unreadable. His expression stayed carefully composed, but his grip tightened, as though he sensed the question held more weight than he was prepared to deal with. For a moment, you thought you saw something there—guilt, maybe, or regret? But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that cold, detached gaze.

"Oh, my poor, naive love," he murmured, voice soft but devoid of empathy. "Sincere? That side of me was whatever you wanted it to be. And it did its job beautifully, wouldn't you agree?" His lips curled into a smirk, as though he savoured the pain reflected in your eyes.

With that answer, a profound calm settled over you, solidifying the choice you'd been struggling with. He had no redemption. No humanity. And soon enough, he'd feel what it was like to be powerless, too. The herbs were just beneath the bed, waiting to release you both from this wretched game.

And it would be soon.

⸸

Your own recklessness had led you here; there was no one else to blame. And yet, the thought of Seonghwa tightened painfully around your heart. He had been everything—the one you imagined beside you in every future, the light in all your darkest moments. Now, he was left only with the haunting image of you powerless, taken by the monster who loomed over you.

The vampire had turned your suffering into a twisted show, a grotesque performance designed to break every last bit of faith Seonghwa held for you. How could he possibly still love you after witnessing this? How could anyone?

But perhaps that was for the best. If it meant he'd let go of the desperate need to search for you, you could leave this world knowing no one would mourn your tainted existence. And with that bleak acceptance, your resolve crystallised. Hongjoong had unknowingly given you all the tools you needed, and you were finally ready to use them. The knowledge from his library, the herbs in his greenhouse—all his arrogance had left him exposed.

You'd consumed more than enough of the poison just before his feeding time, driven by a singular determination to end this—no more hesitation.

The venom surged through your veins, dizzying yet invigorating, each heartbeat counting down to your final moments—and his. You focused on that thought as his grip on you began to waver, his dominant presence starting to crumble as the poison took effect.

As your vision began to blur, clarity sharpened in your mind. This wasn't just an escape; it was vengeance. The thought fueled the last remnants of strength in your body.

"Do you feel that, Kim Hongjoong?" you whispered, forcing your voice to hold steady despite nausea clawing at you. "This is the end for you, and I'll die knowing you'll never hurt anyone else again."

He looked down at you, disbelief flickering into grim acceptance, and then, to your surprise, a small grin crept across his lips. He lay down beside you, fingers reaching out to entwine with yours. "You sly little fox… this is why I love you so much. No one else could have done this to me, no matter how they tried. At least we'll be together in the afterlife. I may be dying, but I'll die happy knowing I've won over Park Seonghwa."

The poison surged stronger with every heartbeat, each pulse dragging you deeper into the icy grip of darkness as the final remnants of your strength began to fade. "You're delusional, Kim. You'll have me... only until death claims us."

⸸

"No! No, it can't be!" Seonghwa's voice tore through the night, raw and desperate as he tried to break free from the arms restraining him. His screams cut the air, his cries echoing in the vast, empty silence that had settled around the mansion. But the police officers, your brother, your best friend—everyone held him back from reaching you… or what was left of you.

If only you could have held on just a moment longer. The sirens had drawn near, filling the air with the promise of help, of escape, but they'd come too late. Your boyfriend had done the only thing he could, knowing that a rash attempt to rescue you would have meant his death too. He'd left after seeing you one last time, shattering as he took in the horror of your suffering, knowing you'd endured all this while he searched tirelessly for you.

Now, at last, he was here, hands still reaching out for you, ready to bring you back into his arms—but all that was left was an empty, still form entwined in the lifeless arms of the very monster who'd stolen you from him. His sobs were relentless, tearing from his chest as he stumbled forward, pleading, his body wracked with the pain of a thousand what-ifs.

If only he had fought harder to keep you by his side. If only he hadn't cancelled that night. If only he'd never let you cross paths with Hongjoong. The blame—merciless, relentless—wrapped around him like a noose, each regret tightening its hold.

This ache would follow him, a cycle of blame and guilt that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He would never be the same.

I'll join you soon, my love.

This has got to be one of my personal favourites, I do love me some sadistic shit from time to time. Hope y'all enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[whatswrongwithblue]

Artowrk by inuhalfdemon

Series Masterlist

Summary:

He took her face between his clawed hands and kissed her, hard and quick.

“So now that I have you back,” as he spoke, his voice crackled and lowered several octaves, and the room darkened as he allowed his power to slip out just enough to make reality around them go fuzzy. “I’m not letting you go.”

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

TW: canon typical violence, language, character behavior. recreational drug use. body image issues. references to self harm. OC has ptsd from sexual trauma and spousal abuse - not from Alastor! cannibalism. gun violence. slow burn. alastor is an ass and alastor is also soft. the smut will eventually include: p&v, fingering, oral - both receiving. biting, scratching, blood play. occasional shadow tentacle and sex toy usage. Anal play. Nun Alastor makes an appearance later on. Breeding kinks - both Alastor and OC deal with breeding cycles. Touch adverse Alastor. Ace-spectrum Alastor.

Also available on AO3 .

Chapter 1 - The Pilot: Alastor returns to Hell. Basically the events of the Pilot, but rewritten with Mina present.

Part 1

Chapter 2 - Reflections. The short story of Mina's life and death.

Chapter 3 - Overture. Events of Episode 1 as well as what happened during the Extermination the day before.

Part 2

Chapter 4 - Terminally Dispelled. Mina arrives in Hell.

Chapter 5 - Radio Killed the Video Star. Events of Episode 2. Alastor is a simping show-off but still not good at processing emotions.

Part 3

Chapter 6 - Little Sunshine. - Mina's POV from the end of last chapter.

Chapter 7 - Ashes in My Wake. - Alastor handle's being smitten really, really badly.

Chapter 8 - Scrambled Eggs. - Alastor finds out someone has hurt his wife.

Part 4

Chapter 9 - Wretched and Joyful. - "First time" smut

Chapter 10 - Masquerade. - Events of Episode 4. Angst ahead!

Chapter 11 - Stitches. - Angst & post-fight make-up smut

Part 5

Chapter 12 - Drunk on Life. - extra fluff & smut

Chapter 13 - Dad Beat Dad. - Events of Episode 5 w/ smut.

Part 6 - Alastor in rut smut but also lots of dark themes. Please mind the tags of these chapters.

Chapter 14 - Welcome to Heaven.

Chapter 15 - Tainted.

Chapter 16 - Possessed.

Chapter 17 - The Prophetess vs. The Nun.

Chapter 18 - Welcome (Back) to Heaven.

Part 7

Chapter 19 - A Fate that Befell Him. - proposal & wedding day

Chapter 20 - The Silence in Between. - honeymoon smut

Chapter 21 - Hello Abaddon. - recruitment for the hotel battle

Chapter 22 - House on Fire - smut rather than dealing with feelings.

Everything below is finished, only unpublished because I need to proof read!

Part 8

Chapter 23 - Don't Take That Sinner From Me. - the day alastor left

Chapter 24 - Just Pretend. - have some more angst. as a treat.

Chapter 25 - A Place to Put Your Pain. - surprise! more smut

Chapter 26 - The Show Must Go On. - the battle

Bonus Chapters

Chapter 1 - The Library - bonus smut

Chapter 2 - Poppin' Molly - Alastor on drugs, enough said

[generational-atrophy]

Can i req yandere canada, japan and russia do after s/o failed escape? (Bonus if they want to take care of their s/o wound, up to you)

(HWS Canada, Japan, & Russia x Reader) After S/Os failed escape!

(Gender Neutral) Scenario ~ A/N u guys should req more yandere stuff bcs it is so fun

Trigger Warning: Typical Yandere TWs, (domestic?) violence, being held in captivity, unhealthy mindsets, self harm.

Of course. You want to leave, just as he anticipated. It’s his own fault for allowing that, he knows, it’s not entirely your fault. But… it did show that you’re not as exceptional as he thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have treated you any differently than anyone else.

Your knees hurt, more than anything else. The burns on them were only getting worse as you pleaded on the floor. You’d been begging for hours now, but it felt like days. Days of sobbing and asking for mercy. But whenever you dared to lift your head to meet his cold gaze, he revealed to you absolutely no signs of slowing.

Before you could cry out another appeal to whatever kindness remained in him, he silenced you with another sharp kick into your stomach. His steel-toed boots made you keel over in pain again. Was your shirt wet because of your endless tears or because his shoes were still dripping with snow?

You waited for another blow to come, bracing your whole body as you were barely able to hold yourself off the floor. Your muscles ached, your eyes stung, your knees burnt, and you knew… knew that none of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t taken your first impossible chance to escape. But that’s what he wanted. Although he hadn’t spoken since he’d dragged you kicking and screaming back into his cabin; you could hear his voice telling you this is your fault. It was… in some sort of twisted way… but of course, that’s what he wanted you to think, rather you than him.

He had really found his way into your mind, hadn’t he? Even when he was completely silent, he controlled you. But it was worse in your own head. Maybe his voice could provide some sort of relief, you thought. You hesitantly looked up and flinched as he looked back down at you. His face still betrayed nothing, but he stepped back, walking away from you.

“Mercy, at last?” That was the last thought you allowed yourself before you saw him open the door to the basement.

Immediately you stumbled back, trying to crawl away as his heavy footsteps drew closer to your cowering form. Your knees stung before… but they stung worse as he dragged you by the back of your collar towards the door. 

“Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate me now. If not… well… there’s always other ways.”

How ungrateful. How brutish. He would have never thought his darling capable of being so awful. But there you go away, rejecting his help… maybe you’ve forgotten how much worse your life was without him? 

It had always been quiet in Kiku’s house, but never like this. Even in the darkest days and nights, you could faintly hear a steam passing by the house, birds still awoke with you each morning. But since he had tied your hands to the wall, providing you only a pillow for comfort, you had heard no such thing. Maybe it was a different room in the home. Maybe it was a different home. Maybe the world outside of you two had simply… stopped.

You knew it was an irrational thought, but it was becoming harder and harder to remember reality. Your reality was this plain room, with your pillow, and occasionally a plate of food which would only appear when you slept. You had accepted that quickly. Mostly because, well… accepting your fate had worked with him in the past. But no matter what you did, no matter how much you cried or starved yourself or screamed or rubbed your hands raw on the rope so horribly your arms became covered in your own blood, the room never changed and it never became less silent.

If he wanted you to want him, it had worked. It had worked weeks ago. But yet, he failed to show himself no matter what. Your only way of knowing he hadn’t abandoned you was the meals he brought in. God, if he brought you food while you were awake, you would beg. No matter how embarrassing it was, no matter how ashamed of yourself you were, you would plead for as long as he wanted. Because even his abuse was better than this. Better than nothing.

No matter how much you hated him, you hated this blank, meaningless, silent existence more.

Why… why would you ever want to leave him? He keeps you safe, he gives you everything you could ever need, he LOVES you… what did he miss? What did he do so horribly wrong that you have to run away?

You had expected punishment, abuse, and isolation… but not whatever the hell this is. The first thing you had awoken to after your first escape attempt was… sweet smell. Like bacon, a little bit? And once you sat up to see the source of it, you noticed how your clothes felt. Like your normal pyjamas, but softer. Infinitely softer, brand new, and in your favourite colour too. All while you’re in his bed. You hadn’t been rejected to his guest room, or his basement, or the freezing outdoors.

As you walked downstairs to investigate the smell, you were immediately greeted with an… unexpected sight. Ivan in the kitchen, cooking your favourite breakfast, in an outfit that you always liked on him. When you approached, he jumped in surprise, looking at you terrified for a moment. But he quickly regained his composure, rushing forward and wrapping you in a tight hug.

“Моя любимый!” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, “You’re awake!”

Now you were the one being startled. What was going on? Where was the awful, childish monster you had known? Why was he being so nice to you?

“I didn’t realize you would be awake so soon. I hope you slept well,” He tells you gently, smiling all the while. But then you realize, nothing but his lips are smiling. He was forcing himself to appear all happy-go-lucky, just for you. But the closer you look, the more you see… including his shoulders, which were shaking.

But then he notices your face, which notably, isn’t smiling with him.

“What’s wrong? Are you upset? Did you not want this?” He asks frantically, his smile falling as quickly as it appeared. He desperately rubbed your arms, trying to force his grin back.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, why aren’t you happy? I’ll do whatever you want, please, моя любимый! Please... Don’t be mad with me…” He pleads, struggling to keep up his facade as his eyes start to glaze over with tears.

You step away, looking at him in shock as he lurches forward. You shudder as he does so, gripping onto the front of your shirt as he cries, “I’ll do whatever you want, anything to make you happy! J-Just don’t leave! Don’t leave!”

What’s worse, a controlling, homicidal maniac, or an unstable, controlling, homicidal maniac?

[fanby-fckry]

It’s not Wednesday, but UH3 brainrot has once again consumed me.

I’m supposed to be catching up on Ace Alastor Week, and instead I’m writing ahead in the Season 1 fic.

Sneak peek below, heed the tags.

Content Warning: self harm*, blood, references to canon-typical violence, implied/referenced child abuse, inconsistent terminology regarding sex and gender**

*Whether or not this is self harm could probably be up for debate, but I, personally, consider it to be a form of self harm. Please put your own health and safety first; read with caution of feel free to keep scrolling. Stay safe, readers.

**Alastor sometimes conflates sex and gender because he just doesn’t think about or care what people have in their pants. He grew up in a time where the two were considered interchangeable; while he knows neither sex nor gender are static/that not everyone matches up with the gender they were assigned and will call a trans person by their chosen name/pronouns, gender them correctly, and treat them exactly like he’d treat anyone else, he still gets the terms a little mixed up from time to time. He wouldn’t gatekeep someone based on their transition status, because the physical state of someone else’s body isn’t his concern unless he’s actively in the process of killing them. And even then, he’s not focused on sex characteristics of any kind.

…

…

…

“And all this time, I thought it was mere population control!” Alastor ranted ino the private connection. He was pacing across his meticulously sound-proofed hotel room while his shadow flew from wall to wall.

“Well,” Lucifer began, but Alastor wasn’t done speaking and didn’t care for being interrupted.

“Ha!” Alastor laughed, threading a hand through his own hair. “Can you blame me?” he asked.

A rhetorical question, but Lucifer gave his best attempt at answering. “It is p-”

“They’ve got no style, no finesse! And barely any skill!” Alastor’s shadow curled its claws into fists, and Alastor removed his hand from his hair to keep himself from pulling it or digging his claws into his scalp as he felt the urge to do the same.

“Year after year, decade after decade, it’s nothing but artless, soulless slaughter!” Alastor laughed again, manic, hysterical, and lacking any and all joy. “Is it any wonder I assumed it was simply a mindless masacre?”

“Alastor-”

“Entertainment…” Alastor dug his claws into the inside of his palm, attempting to ground himself with the pain.

“If killing Sinners for one’s own entertainment is so damned Holy, then why is he in Heaven while I’m down here?” Alastor demanded, static rising in his voice. “Why, one could argue that he’s worse than I am!”

“He’s certainly killed more Sinners than I have by now, considering how long the Exterminations have been in effect.” Hell’s history books were patchy at best, and Lucifer only talked about his – and by extension, Hell’s – past in vague, non-specific terms, often while drunk or sentimental. Or both.

Alastor’s claws began to draw blood. “And from the combination of what Charlie and Lilith and you have all told me, he’s a vulgar, disrespectful chauvinist!”

The pain no longer felt like an anchor. It was fuel on the fire that was the rage burning within him, the wrath he felt at the injustice of it all.

“My mother raised me to be a gentleman,” Alastor said. “Any disrespect I show is based on a woman's actions, not her sex. But Adam expected Lilith to bend to his whims simply on the basis of her gender! He talked down to Charlie, likely on the same logic!”

“And yes, I kill because I enjoy it, but I’m selective with my victims! I enact vengeance on behalf of the weak and vulnerable! In life, I corrected the injustices of a corrupt system, and in death I punish those already Damned by their sins!”

Blood was seeping through Alastor’s knuckles. He pushed his claws deeper, sinking them into the meat of his palms.

“So why…?” There were bloodstains on the carpet. Niffty would be quite upset if she learned that the blood was Alastor’s rather than one of his meals’.

“Why?” Alastor repeated, barely audible above his own feedback. His cheeks were wet. He must have gotten blood on them at some point.

Everything was silent for a moment, save for the static Alastor couldn’t reign in.

Then, Lucifer spoke. “It’s complicated,” he said, quietly.

Alastor made an animalistic sound deep in the back of his throat, something between a growl and a whimper. But he let the Devil speak.

“I don’t know the particulars, but murder and vengeance are both Damnable sins.”

“Then why isn’t he Damned,” Alastor said through gritted teeth. “Why hasn’t Adam Fallen?”

Lucifer sighed. “Nepotism?”

Alastor laughed. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you!”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Lucifer asked, his volume increasing. “My Father kicked me out of Heaven for falling in love with Lilith and for daring to dream of a world where humanity wasn’t bound by eternal ignorance.”

“And he gave you a kingdom!” Alastor swung his arms, flinging blood across the room with the sheer force of the movement. “He let you and Lilith elope when he could’ve smited you both! Do you think he’d give the same courtesy to his other angelic children, or do the rumors of you being his favorite son hold true, hm, Lightbringer?”

The radio began to smoke and glow with a faint golden light.

“Get that name out of your fucking mouth, Alastor.”

Alastor ignored him, ignored the projections of his power.

“My father never would’ve shown me such benevolence if I’d disobeyed him the way you did yours.” Alastor moved to inspect the bloodstains on the walls. “And the best thing he ever gave me was a lesson in the inherent cruelty of man.”

[lokidokieokie]

Threads of Redemption

Summary: You were always the annoying vampire that got in the way of the Scoobies, so you could imagine their annoyance when they needed you to defeat a mutual enemy. All this changes, though, when Giles is put in danger...

Pairing: Rupert Giles x Vampire!Fem!Reader

Warning(s): typical canon-like violence, kinda enemies to lovers vibes (not really tho), staking, vampire things, witches, fighting (lemme know if I forgot anything)

A/N my sister has recently really got into Buffy the Vampire slayer, and I have completely fallen for a few of the characters...please bare with me while I explore my new obsession :)

The old factory reverberated with the echoes of battle as the Scooby Gang, joined by you, confronted a coven of powerful witches. Despite the occasional irritation and banter that coloured your interactions with the group, a sense of camaraderie had grown over time.

Giles adjusted his glasses, his gaze shifting between the looming threat and the artefact clutched in his hand. "Do be careful, Y/n," he warned, his voice tinged with concern. "Our adversaries are not to be taken lightly."

You smirked, flashing a playful wink. "Don't worry, Giles. I've got enough bite to match their bark," you retorted, revelling in the banter that had become customary between you.

Xander chuckled, joining in the exchange. "That's the spirit! Show 'em what you're made of."

Buffy interjected, her tone serious. "Alright, everyone. Let's stay focused. We need to protect the artefact and take down these witches before they cause any more harm."

As the battle erupted, the witches unleashed their malevolent magic, threatening to overpower the Scooby Gang. With each surge of power, the factory walls trembled, dust falling from the ceiling.

The group fought with unwavering determination, their efforts synchronised to counter the witches' onslaught. You, harnessing your vampiric strength, leapt into the fray, striking with deadly precision.

But as the battle reached its crescendo, a surge of dark energy crackled through the air. The witches, sensing their imminent defeat, resorted to a desperate act—a final attempt to decimate the lives of their adversaries.

In a blur of motion, one of the witches summoned a stake infused with dark magic, hurtling it toward the heart of Giles. Time seemed to slow as you registered the danger, your instincts overriding any thought of self-preservation.

With a surge of supernatural speed, you intercepted the stake, the wooden weapon piercing through your chest instead of Giles'.

Shock and horror contorted Giles' features as he watched you crumple to the ground, the stake protruding from your body. The Scooby Gang froze, their cries of disbelief drowned by the sound of their racing hearts.

Giles fell to his knees beside you, his voice choked with anguish. "No, no, this can't be happening," he whispered, his hands trembling as he tried to staunch the flow of blood.

His voice wavered with desperation, denial lacing every word. "You're fine. You're going to wake up any moment now, and we'll laugh about this," Giles pleaded, his gaze fixated on your lifeless form.

Tears welled in Buffy's eyes, her voice filled with sorrow. "Giles..."

But he continued, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and denial. "Please, don't leave me," he whispered, his words barely audible. "I can't lose you."

The Scooby Gang watched in solemn silence, their hearts heavy with grief. The weight of the moment pressed upon them, the realisation of the sacrifices made in their fight against evil.

And then, in an inexplicable turn of events, the artefact clutched in Giles' hand began to emit a radiant glow. The Scooby Gang's attention shifted from their despair to the unfolding mystery before them.

Unbeknownst to Giles, the artefact possessed a hidden ability—one that defied explanation and transcended mortal understanding. It held within it the power to rewrite destinies, to defy death itself.

In an ethereal display, the glow enveloped your lifeless form, mending your wounds and reversing the irreversible. The stake within your chest disintegrated into dust, and colour flooded back into your ashen complexion.

With a gasp, your eyes fluttered open, meeting Giles' tear-filled gaze. A hushed silence settled over the group, broken only by the collective sigh of relief that escaped their lips.

Giles stared at you, a mixture of disbelief and awe etched upon his face. The weight of his grief lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude and wonder. It was a moment that reminded him of the extraordinary bonds forged in the crucible of loss and resurrection.

As the battle drew to a close, the Scooby Gang gathered around, their expressions a mix of relief and exhaustion. The dust settled, and a newfound calm settled over the factory.

You and Giles locked eyes once more, a tension lingering between you that had only grown during your time together. The near-loss had stripped away the barriers that stood between you, leaving only raw vulnerability and unspoken desire.

In that moment, guided by an unspoken understanding, you closed the distance between you. The world around you faded into the background as your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

It was a release—an affirmation of life and the unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of grief and resilience. It was a declaration that even amidst the darkness, love and redemption could be found.

When you finally pulled away, the intensity of the moment lingered in the air. The Scooby Gang watched, their eyes filled with a mixture of shock and disgust.

Giles' voice broke the silence, his tone filled with warmth and vulnerability. "I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I don't want to face it without you," he confessed, his hand gently cradling your face.

You smiled, your heart brimming with newfound hope. "Then let's face it together, Giles," you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his.

And amidst the ruins of the battle, the Scooby Gang stood as a united front, ready to face whatever darkness lay ahead, their spirits rekindled by the threads of redemption that wove their lives together.

A/N ahhhh! I know that this is really random to post, but Giles is just...perfect! I'm not going to tag anyone, as this is not related to any of my previous content, but please, let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any of my BtVS fics!

[guzmapkmn-archive]

bring me back to life

ও word count: 1,953

ও relationship(s): pre cirrus/guzma

ও warnings: brief implied self harm and violence, blood

ও summary: cirrus takes care of guzma after the disaster that is the iki town festival tournament.

ও notes: fun fact I started this last september. everyone is so proud of me and my ability to finish writing fics in a timely manner <3

ok to rb!!

Tonight was the festival - the "Full Force Festival'' as people called it. A stupid name, in Cirrus's opinion, but to be honest, it didn't care enough about it to poke fun. 

After the news of the beachfront grunts' defeat, Guzma was in a worse mood than usual. He had gripped the armrests of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white, and Cirrus worried the stuffing would pop out. "Hey." It patted Guzma's arm in an attempt to be reassuring. "Don't worry, Guz. The Slowpoke tail stall is getting set up now. There's no way that kid'll get away."

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, as Guzma slammed his fist into the chair, mouth twisted in seething anger. "A fuckin' kid, C," he groaned. "Wasn't even me that got beat and I feel like I can't show my face. Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Well, he won't be anything once he gets beat."

This seemed to placate Guzma, as he sat back with his chin in his hand. "Yeah. You're right. He won't be, not after I'm done with him," he said thoughtfully.

The plan was all set up, with A, as he dubbed himself, taking part in the competition for something-or-other, and a group of other grunts manning a popup food stall just in case. But… the beachfront grunts were strong, and according to them, the kid had beat them like it was nothing. Cirrus was reluctant to voice its concerns out loud, but for everyone's sake, it wanted to be 200% sure of their success.

"Why don't I head down there, just to keep an eye on things? Not that I think there will be any problems," (it did), "but, ya know. Just in case. Couldn't hurt," Cirrus suggested.

"No," Guzma said after a beat of silence, hopping to his feet. "You stay here. I'm goin' to crush that kid. Won't even take a minute. I'll be back before ya know it."

"Oh," Cirrus said. It was honestly surprised that Guzma hadn't ordered it or Plumeria to go help out earlier. Leaving something this important in the hands of a bunch of grunts wasn't always the best idea, but Guzma rarely got so directly involved. This must have been bothering him more than he let on, to decide to go to the festival himself. "Uh, okay. Are you sure? It'd be no trouble for me-"

"You can't always count on other people to do your dirty work for ya. I need to destroy him myself. Make sure it's done right." 

He left before Cirrus could say anything further, leaving it alone in his room.

"Ugh. Typical," it grumbled, flopping down in Guzma's chair and swinging its legs over the side. As much as it didn't want to go to the festival, being left alone while everyone else was there, even for business, was even worse. It just hoped Guzma wouldn't do anything stupid.

~~~~~~~

The next thing Cirrus heard was a frantic clamor coming from the downstairs of the mansion, a cacophony of shouting and yelling that awoke it from its accidental slumber. Shaking its head in an attempt to dislodge the sleep that still clung to its eyes, it was about to make its way to the door, but was interrupted by a grunt swinging open with enough force to make it jump. Well, this is definitely Not Good.

The grunt wrung her hands, shifting her weight from food to foot nervously. “C-Cirrus!!” she wailed upon spotting it, looking as if she might burst into tears at any second. Oh dear. “Hey, hey, take a breath, alright?” Cirrus stumbled down the stairs and across the room, gently ushering the grunt out of the room. All of the remaining fatigue had faded with the commotion, and was now replaced with worry. “What happened?” it asked once they were outside.

"I… Th-the boss is hurt, and…!" 

Wait… Guzma was hurt? It was just supposed to be a battle tournament, right? And he wasn’t even the one competing…

"Where is he?"

"Downstairs, A just brought him in, but… but…” she trailed off, and Cirrus pressed its lips together.

“Shit. Okay. Thank you.” Cirrus hated to leave her here when she was upset, and reached out to squeeze her shoulder in what it hoped was a reassuring gesture before running down the stairs.

~~~~~~~

The ruckus downstairs had mostly quieted down as Cirrus arrived, save for A and Guzma loudly arguing. A’s mouth snapped shut once he noticed Cirrus, staring at it from over Guzma’s shoulder, with the taller man following suit, turning around to give Cirrus a clear look at the blood dripping from his forehead and the bent and smashed sunglasses in his clenched fist.

The worry that had been welling in Cirrus’s chest bloomed into anxiety as it took in the scene in front of it, with Guzma refusing to look it in the eyes, and the way the dim light in the mansion reflected off the shards of glass from the shattered sunglasses that were embedded in his forehead, and the blood dyeing the tips of his bangs red. If only it had pushed harder for Guzma to let it go instead… this wouldn't be happening.

“Guzma,” it said quietly, waiting until said man crossed his arms and began stomping his way towards it to head towards the bathroom upstairs.

Cirrus sighed as it shut the door behind them, frustrated, worried, exhausted… “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Good,” Guzma spat out, waving away Cirrus’s hands as it attempted to help him onto the counter.

A scowl had crept its way up Guzma's face in the few seconds it took Cirrus to grab the first aid kit from under the sink, with an angry crease forming on his brow.

"Hey. Quit it with the grumpy face, you're making my job a lot harder."

Guzma huffed, but smoothed out his scowl, allowing Cirrus to tilt his head up and carefully pick out the remaining shards of glass from his wound. It worked in silence, only uttering a quiet sorry when Guzma flinched back, hissing through his teeth.

The room was thick with a palpable tension that Cirrus tried hard to ignore as it dabbed at the now dry blood that had dripped down Guzma's face. It knew how destructive Guzma got when he was angry - had seen the aftermath of his rage firsthand - but he had never done anything like this to himself. At least, not that Cirrus knew of.

Something was up, something had happened, but Cirrus didn't want to pry, especially so soon. Besides, the chance of Guzma opening up so easily was slim to none.

Resisting the urge to sigh again, Cirrus took the gauze and bandages it had set aside and pressed them to the wound, making sure they wouldn't fall off the second it let go. "There we go," it said, brushing Guzma's hair back over his forehead, "good as new!"

"Thanks…" Guzma muttered, tugging at his bangs. With the admittedly amateur doctoring complete, Cirrus was able to take a step back to truly take in the other man's disheveled state, with his shoulders drooping and the bags under his eyes darker than normal.

"Guz… Maybe you should get some rest, yeah?" Cirrus suggested. It didn't know when the last time he slept properly was, but it couldn't have been recently. "'M fine." Guzma rubbed at his eyes almost aggressively, as if trying to clear the obvious heaviness from them. "'Sides, I didn't get the chance to heal Golisopod or Masquerain after the battle, 'n I gotta do that first." He had grimaced for a brief moment at the mention of the festival, but broke out into a yawn.

"I can do that. You look dead on your feet. Go to bed."

"I toldja I'm fine-"

"I'll go take care of them. You go take care of yourself," Cirrus said firmly, leaving no room for arguing. It held out its hand expectantly, raising its eyebrows when Guzma crossed his arms. "Fine," he said, reaching in his pocket for the pokéballs and placing them in Cirrus's outstretched hand. "Thank you. Now go rest," it stressed. "Or I swear to Arceus I will drag you to your bed myself."

"Yeah, yeah," Guzma waved Cirrus off but slid off the counter, stopping once he reached the door. "...thanks," he said in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "For helpin' me out. I… really appreciate you." 

A dark blush crept its way up Cirrus's face and Butterfree fluttered violently in its stomach at Guzma's words. "Shit," it choked out once Guzma left, trying to drown out the pounding of its heart. I appreciate you. He didn’t just appreciate the action, he appreciated Cirrus. It clenched the pokéballs in its hands and took a deep breath before heading outside.

“That’s a normal thing to say to someone when they help you, right? I’m… just thinking too hard about it. That’s a perfectly normal thing to say,” it said to itself as it made its way down the winding staircase. The eerie silence from inside the now-abandoned Shady House followed Cirrus out to the yard, making it shiver. 

Cirrus let Golisopod and Masquerain out of their pokéballs, and stayed quiet as it sprayed the Pokémon with potions. The harder it tried to not think about what Guzma had said to it, the more it ended up thinking about it. A frustrated groan escaped its lips and it threw the empty potion bottle to the side, a bit harder than it planned. Golisopod gave it a look, then busied itself with Cirrus's bag, poking at it with his claws. "Ugh, I'll pick it up in a minute - hey, what do you think you're doing?"

Golisopod continued to nudge at the bag even when Cirrus took it from him. "Oh, you smell the poké beans, don'tcha? Well, y'all're in luck - I got the good stuff." It pulled out a rainbow bean from its bag, which was promptly snatched and devoured by Golisopod the second it was in view. "Hey now!" Cirrus raised its eyebrows at him. "I know you're Guzma's Pokémon, but use your manners!" A pause. "Don't tell him I said that."

Gentle moonlight shone down within the walls of Po Town, seeming to have a calming effect on the run-down city. The emptiness usually scared Cirrus, it didn't enjoy being out there after dark, but that night it looked almost pretty, in a strange sort of way.

Cirrus handed another bean to Golisopod, who took it much more delicately this time.

"Ooh, such a good boy!!" Cirrus cooed, reaching up to scratch Golispod under the chin, laughing as he trilled contentedly.

Masquerain started buzzing angrily around Cirrus's head, clearly jealous of the attention it was giving Golisopod. "Oh, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about you!" It pet her head and fished another poké bean out from its bag, then sat cross legged on the grass, watching Masquerain perch upon Golisopod's head with the treat.

"Y'all fought hard for the boss today, huh?" Cirrus tugged at the grass absently, a small frown on its face.

"I just wish he wasn't so hard on himself…"

It flopped onto its back, staring up at the clear sky and letting the calm air wash away all its worries from the events that had transpired that night. Guzma's earlier words echoed in its ears - I really appreciate you - and it groaned loudly, covering its face with its hands as a hot flush began creeping its way up its face.

If only it was brave enough to tell Guzma… it felt the same way. If he only knew just how deeply Cirrus's appreciation, admiration, adoration, ran.

~~~~~~~

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[the-haunted-office]

⭐ Themes & What I Am Looking for in Roleplay

Regarding themes, being centered around horror, my blog features a lot of dark and sometimes heavy themes, such as death, violence, murder, blood, gore, illness (including terminal illness), and occasional mentions of self-harm and suicide (as is portrayed in the typical The Stanley Parable manner, i.e. muses not taking their own lives and physical health seriously because they can respawn in video game fashion, so they may do things like jump off a building, volunteer to be experimented on, joke around about death, show little fear of being hurt or killed, or just generally show little regard for their own safety).

Themes of mental health are also present on this blog. Many of my muses have mental health issues such as anxiety and depression. These issues are present through their behaviors, actions, and reactions to other muses and the world around them. They are very much human in that way, so if this sort of characterization bothers you, please be aware of this before following and interacting. My muses will not be happy and cheerful and positive and friendly 100% of the time, and so our interactions and threads might not be either. There may be times where my muses will react unfavorably to the things your muses say and do, and this is all a part of roleplay in my opinion. It adds flavor and intrigue to threads and depth to characters and their interactions. I will not flat out trauma dump on your muses and turn everything into an angst fest, however please be aware that they each have their backstories, and they will react to the things your muses say and do and that their reactions are their own - not mine. If you can’t handle conflicts arising without taking them as either personal attacks against you or as a personal critique against your character, especially without being able to discuss things in a civil manner OOC, then we will not be a good fit as writing partners.

My blog is also, obviously, heavily themed on the paranormal and supernatural, so there will be a lot of things about ghosts, spirits, ghouls, monsters, extraterrestrials, cryptids, icky and gross things, freaky and scary things, and just anything in that genre. If it’s anything spooky and my eyes come across it, it’s probably going to come up at some point on my blog. This includes religious things like demons and exorcisms and possessions and themes of that nature (these are not as common, but I’m mentioning them here because I know some are more sensitive to these themes and I want people to be aware that they may be present).

Dark themes aren’t the sole themes on my blog, though! It’s also a comedy blog! And that’s a good deal of what you’ll see here. The silly juxtaposed with the dark. Horror and comedy placed side-by-side is one of my favorite things ever, and I love playing with it here. I love getting a laugh out of dark and troubling themes, out of things that would normally be too frightening to look at. It minimizes the things that are too hard to handle on their own. Life, and death, doesn’t have to be so ugly and scary. We can laugh at these things too, and then they aren’t so scary. Besides, I’m here to have fun too, and that’s what I want my blog to be about as well.

Another big theme you’ll find here is centered around the examination and breakdown of storytelling and narrative tropes and elements, particularly through a heavily satirical lens, and oftentimes in the manner presented in The Stanley Parable. This can sometimes be done by breaking the fourth wall, although it is not often done in threads unless we agree to it beforehand, or through crack threads, dashcoms, and similarly-typed roleplay styles. Most often, you’ll see this carried out between my own muses in short little in-character pieces of writing and in occasional longer pieces of writing that I post on my dash under the #writing for days tag. Some examples of this are my characters discussing the latest BookTok trends, or longer story-driven plots centered around the breaking down of a particular trope, such as the slasher horror genre. Please note that while this material can be read as inflammatory and/or offensive, being the nature of satire, it is never directed at you personally or your personal tastes in these things - these types of posts and writings are my own views expressed through my characters purely for matters of humor. You are free to enjoy the media and trends you wish to enjoy, as am I. The views I express are directed at the material - not at you or your intelligence or feelings or anything of the sort.

My blog is also about friendship and love and never giving up. Found family is another heavy theme on my blog, as is love always winning at the end of the day. It’s about the power of choice and breaking out of your narrative, and sometimes breaking THE narrative. No one is ever bound to the path set before them - you always have a choice, even though the choice might not be clear or obvious. Sometimes you have to carve out the path yourself, brutally, even violently, but as the great mathematician Ian Malcolm once said, “Life, uh, finds a way.”

Untangling life and navigating our way through it all, while having a laugh at the horrors, that’s what it’s all about, baby!

As for what I am looking for in roleplay, one of the most important things to me in roleplaying is fair and balanced collaboration. 

This means both of us working together to ensure that we are both having a good time. It means communicating if there are issues, communicating ideas, asking questions, plotting together. It also means sharing collaboration efforts - so both of us sending in asks and memes to each other, we both put effort into our replies, we both come up with ideas, etc. It also means we both make sure to give each other something to work with in our replies and make sure that one isn’t always leading the direction of the thread or plot. It’s cooperation on both our parts. I believe roleplaying is more fun when both players are working and writing together.

Going into it with that in mind,  while I am happy to start off with touch-and-go replies and smaller threads to see how things go between our muses and between us as muns, longer term I’d really like to develop more in-depth threads and plots between our muses. This isn’t a requirement by any means, so please don’t take it that way - we absolutely can rp more surface level threads if that’s what you’d prefer. But for full transparency, I’d be happiest with writing partners who are willing to develop interesting, in-depth plots with our muses.

Particular genres and verses I am open to discussing and developing. My go-to verse is my main, Stanley Parable verse, but I am happy to develop AUs and develop whole new verses as well. I also have several multifandom muses to work with. I would love to develop all kinds of bonds and relationships with our muses - not strictly speaking romantic bonds, although those are also welcome, but all kinds, including platonic, found family, best friends, even rivals or enemies. I’m open to all kinds of relationships, as long as there is something interesting to develop between our muses.

At the heart of what I’m looking for is a story - an interesting, in-depth story for us to tell between our muses, a world to explore together, something for us to sink our teeth into. I want to write! So let’s write together!

[shewasverynice]

Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit 

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Non-Consensual Drug Use

Additional Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use

Categories: F/M, Multi 

Relationships: Takami Keigo | Hawks/Original Female Character(s), Original Character/Other(s) 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Takami Keigo | Hawks, Hero Public Safety Commission, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ Trick Fraud - Part 4 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

The Tech Expo was a sprawling, high-energy event housed in one of the city’s most advanced convention centers. It was a spectacle of innovation and futuristic technology, with towering displays of holographic screens, robots demonstrating artificial intelligence, and booths showcasing cutting-edge gadgets from all over the world. The air buzzed with excitement, the murmur of thousands of conversations blending with the hum of machines and the occasional burst of applause from onlookers impressed by some new tech marvel.

Hawks and Halcyon moved through the crowd, both on high alert but trying to blend in as much as possible. Hawks scanned the sea of faces and displays, his wings tucked tightly to his back to avoid drawing too much attention. Despite his concentration, Hawks' eyes couldn't help but drift to some of the gleaming objects. Halcyon, walking beside him, looked less impressed by the shiny gadgets and more focused on the task at hand.

“This place is a goldmine for Trick Fraud,” Hawks muttered under his breath as they passed a demonstration of an advanced drone system, “He could steal half this stuff and no one would even notice until it’s too late.”

“What an asshole,” Halcyon replied, her voice low but edged with determination. “He’s got to be planning something big. I'm sure he's hiding around here somewhere. We just need to find him before he makes his move and runs away.”

They didn’t have to wait long. As they approached a section of the expo showcasing experimental tech from a top robotics company, they spotted him—Trick Fraud, standing casually by one of the displays, his eyes scanning the room with a mischievous glint. Dressed in his usual flashy, almost eccentric attire, he looked every bit the thrill-seeking villain they had come to know. How no one seemed to notice him was surprising honestly, especially when he was dressed almost like a circus ringmaster.

Before they could even think to move, Trick Fraud smirked and gave them a mocking salute. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite duo! Just in time to see the show," he said with a playful lilt.

Hawks and Halcyon immediately tensed, knowing what was coming. Trick Fraud snapped his fingers, and suddenly, the room was filled with chaos. The lights flickered, and the holographic displays went haywire, creating a confusing maze of shifting images and shadows. Out of the corners of the room, minions hired by Dr. Hawthorne emerged, armed with advanced weaponry they had no doubt stolen from similar events. Immediately they began throwing anything in reach into bags and pockets.

Hawks’ wings flared out as he launched himself into the air, feathers shooting out to disable the nearest group of thugs. Halcyon transformed into Tiger, his speed and agility amplified as he darted through the shifting holograms, clawing and slashing at the attackers who tried to corner the civilians and tamper with the displays.

Tiger growled, taking down a thug with a heavy blow before turning to Hawks and shouting, "They're taking everything they can get!"

Trick Fraud, meanwhile, began weaving through the chaos with almost preternatural grace, dodging every attack they sent his way. He moved as if he knew exactly what was coming, avoiding Hawks’ feathers by mere inches and slipping past Halcyon’s claws with a smug grin.

“This guy’s starting to piss me off,” Halcyon growled as she narrowly missed grabbing Trick Fraud by the collar.

“Join the club,” Hawks muttered, his wings beating rapidly as he tried to keep up with the villain, “He’s using his quirk to stay a step ahead. We need to throw him off somehow.”

As they continued to chase Trick Fraud through the expo, it became clear that his precognitive powers were giving him a significant edge. He anticipated every move they made, dodging, ducking, and weaving through the chaotic battlefield with infuriating ease. All the while he made cheeky little remarks, his shit-eating grin absolutely infuriating.

Hawks and Halcyon exchanged a glance, both understanding that they needed a new approach.

“Distractions,” Hawks said quickly, an idea forming in his mind, “He’s predicting our attacks, but what if we hit him with something he doesn’t expect?”

Halcyon huffed, rolling her eyes at him, “Sure, I'll do what I can but I don't think that'll work, Birdy.”

Hawks nodded and peeled off, focusing his efforts on taking out the remaining thugs with precision strikes from his feathers. Meanwhile, Halcyon shifted forms rapidly—first into Turtle, creating a massive barrier that deflected a barrage of attacks from some of the thugs, then into Phoenix, her fiery wings flaring as she darted around the room, creating a spectacle that drew everyone’s attention.

As Trick Fraud tried to predict her next move, Halcyon suddenly switched back into Tiger, his lightning speed catching Trick Fraud off guard momentarily as he lunged at him. For a split second, Fraud hesitated, his precognition failing him as the two forms’ contrasting abilities threw off his timing. Halcyon’s claws raked the air where he stood, forcing him to backpedal straight into one of Hawks’ feathers.

“You’re not getting away this time!” Hawks shouted, his voice full of determination as he closed in on Trick Fraud.

“Nice of you to finally do something useful,” Tiger quipped as he cornered Trick Fraud against a wall.

“Thanks for the assist, Kitty Cat,” Hawks shot back, a smirk playing on his lips as he prepared to strike again.

“Kitty Cat? Really? You’ve got to work on your insults, Birdy,” he retorted, even as he lunged again, forcing Trick Fraud to dive out of the way.

They were in perfect sync, each movement complemented by the other’s, even as they bickered like usual. Hawks would distract Trick Fraud with his feathers, and Halcyon would capitalize on the openings, her quick transformations keeping the villain off balance just enough.

But Trick Fraud wasn’t done yet. With a final, desperate move, he triggered a device on his wrist, and a burst of blinding light filled the room. By the time Hawks and Halcyon recovered, he was gone, having slipped away in the confusion once again.

They stood there, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins. The room was a wreck, and Trick Fraud was nowhere to be seen.

Halcyon groaned and punched the wall, her frustration evident in her voice. “I really thought we had him this time," she huffed, shaking her hand after the heavy stroke.

Hawks, though just as disappointed, managed a small smile. “Yeah, but at least we threw him off," he said with a little shrug, "His quirk isn’t perfect and we know that—it only works for a few seconds ahead. We’ll get him next time. We just need to keep trying.”

"Did any of his goons get away," Halcyon asked, watching as the police were already entering the building and restraining the thugs.

"No," Hawks answered, looking over at her, "The others outside didn't spot anyone trying to leave. Heron is at the basement exit with Owl also and I haven't heard anything from them."

Halcyon raised her eyebrow, "Why would Dr. Hawthorne want this stuff anyway?"

"I don't think she wants it," Hawks said, nudging a thug on the ground with the toe of his boot, "I think she's trying to make a show of what her own tech is capable of."

"Ah," Halcyon said with a nod towards Hawks, "I see. That makes sense. What a bitch."

"It's not exactly the most efficient way to showcase something," Hawks said, kneeling down to lift up one of the thug's arms and examining the modifications made, "I get that she's doing it illegally, but it just seems like a big effort. Who is she trying to sell it to?"

"Maybe other countries?" Halcyon suggested, "If Trick Fraud gets big enough online then more people would see it."

"Oh!" Hawks clapped his hands and pointed at her, "I bet you're right."

"What if we reveal his tricks are bullshit?" Halcyon suggested, "We could probably just--"

Hawks waved his hand to cut her off, "Nah, no need. And besides, they'll never believe us anyway. They're already on his side so we'd just look like we're jealous or something."

"Why do you think that?" She asked.

"I mean..." Hawks laughed awkwardly, "Judging by Heron and Kiwi's feelings on him, I doubt his other fans would want to hear the truth. Fans can get a little rabid."

"Let's just catch him then," Halcyon grunted, "Fuck it. Next time we can try out that plan, yeah?"

"Sure," Hawks agreed with a sigh, "Fuck it. I'm tired of this too."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hawks and Halcyon were determined. After several near misses and frustrating close calls, they knew they had to outthink Trick Fraud rather than just outfight him. It was clear that his quirk allowed him to see a few seconds into the future, giving him an edge in dodging their attacks and predicting their moves. But there was a flaw—a tiny window where his precognition couldn't help him if they created enough chaos to confuse his senses.

They were at the edge of the city, in an industrial area where Trick Fraud was rumored to be planning his next heist. It was late, and the area was deserted except for the distant hum of machinery. Halcyon was tense, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings as they approached the warehouse they suspected was Trick Fraud's target.

"Remember the plan," Hawks murmured, his wings twitching slightly as he readied himself for action.

"Yeah, yeah, I remember," Halcyon replied, her voice a mix of frustration and determination, "Let's get this over with."

They moved in tandem, silent and focused, making their way to the rooftop where they had a clear view of the warehouse below. Sure enough, Trick Fraud was there, flanked by a few of Dr. Hawthorne’s hired thugs. He was tinkering with a lock on a large metal container, his movements precise and methodical.

"Showtime," Hawks whispered.

Halcyon nodded, then silently signaled the start of their plan. She transformed into Phoenix, her fiery wings illuminating the dark rooftop for a brief moment before she shot off toward Trick Fraud, leaving a trail of light in her wake. As expected, Trick Fraud saw her coming and immediately prepared to dodge—but that was just a distraction.

While Trick Fraud’s attention was on Halcyon, Hawks launched himself into the air, moving with incredible speed. He didn’t attack directly; instead, he sent a barrage of feathers to hit the ground around Trick Fraud, kicking up dust and debris. At the same time, Halcyon shifted into Tiger mid-flight, using her momentum to lunge at Trick Fraud from an unexpected angle.

Trick Fraud tried to dodge, his movements sharp and precise, but the chaos created by Hawks and Halcyon’s combined efforts was too much. His precognition failed him in that critical moment, and he hesitated just long enough for Halcyon to grab him by the arm.

“Gotcha!” Halcyon snarled, her grip like iron.

Before Trick Fraud could react, Hawks landed behind him, blocking his escape. "Nowhere to go, buddy," he said with a smirk.

But Trick Fraud, true to his nature, had one last trick up his sleeve. He smirked right back at Hawks and activated a device hidden in his coat, releasing a pulse of energy that sent a shockwave through the area. Hawks and Halcyon were thrown back, momentarily disoriented.

Just as Trick Fraud made a break for it, Morpho appeared out of the shadows. His gossamer wings fluttered almost imperceptibly as he released a fine dust into the air, targeting Trick Fraud. The villain’s pace slowed, his steps becoming sluggish as Morpho’s quirk took effect, putting him into a trance-like state.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Morpho said calmly, his voice almost soothing as he approached the now-dazed Trick Fraud. The villain’s eyes were unfocused, his smirk fading as he struggled against the effects of the quirk, but to no avail.

Hawks and Halcyon quickly recovered, standing side by side as they watched Morpho finish the job.

“You’ve been a real pain in my ass,” Halcyon muttered, rubbing her shoulder where she had hit the ground, “But you’re finally caught, loser.”

Trick Fraud, even in his weakened state, managed a sly grin. “You think this is the end?" He chuckled, "This is just the beginning. You have no idea what’s coming...”

Hawks frowned, stepping closer. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

But Trick Fraud just chuckled weakly, his voice fading as Morpho’s quirk fully took hold. “You’ll see... Soon enough...” he mumbled before his eyes glazed over and his body relaxed with his shoulders slumped.

Halcyon immediately reached into Trick Fraud's pocket with a smirk, "I'm gonna delete all his shit-"

"No!" Hawks snatched at the phone, "No that's evidence! Don't be petty!"

"Fuck you!" She grinned, holding it out of his reach, "Lemme have this!"

"No!" Hawks' feathers shot out, taking the phone from her before she could hide it.

She pouted, putting her hands on her hips, "C'mon dude. Be cool."

Hawks rolled his eyes, handing the phone over to the police as they cuffed Fraud. "Hal, c'mon don't be ridiculous," he sighed, "We might need it later."

After Trick Fraud was taken into custody, Morpho turned to Hawks and Halcyon. “There’s something else you should know,” he said, his tone serious, “Perplex is outside with one of the thugs we captured earlier. He’s got augmented tech limbs—definitely the work of Dr. Hawthorne.”

Hawks’ eyes narrowed, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. “So, she's been experimenting with her dudes too, huh?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” Morpho agreed, “We need to figure out what they were after.”

Halcyon cracked her knuckles, her expression darkening. “Let’s go see what Perplex found," she said, "I’ve got a few questions for our new friend.”

Perplex was out behind one of the buildings, one of the thugs bound on the ground in front of her. One of her spidery legs was inserted into a slot on his augmented arm, the electricity buzzing between them.

"It's very interesting," she said as the others approached, not looking up from her work, "This man's quirk alters the muscles in his body to allow his arms to stretch. These limbs limit the range, but seem to have increased the power and speed behind the strikes."

"Interesting..." Morpho said, bending down to check on the restraints on the man.

"Definitely Dr. Hawthorne's work, yeah?" Hawks asked, keeping a lookout.

"Absolutely," Perplex said, "It might as well have her name on it. This is absolutely her work."

"So what can we do about it?" Halcyon asked, "Like, is this enough proof that we can push to keep her locked up longer or something?"

"I don't think that's going to help," Hawks said, "She's still doing her experiments from inside the prison. We need to find out who else she's got on her payroll."

"She must have a surgeon at least," Perplex said, her spidery leg drawing back, "Because this tech is completely integrated into his body."

"Like... Fully?" Halcyon asked, nudging his arm with her foot, "You mean like with his nerves and shit?"

"Yes, exactly," Perplex said with a nod, "This surgeon is extremely precise and skilled. His nerves, muscles and even veins are fully connected to this tech. The tech itself is nothing to scoff at either." She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment before adding, "It's not uncommon for tech to work fluidly with quirks, but I can't say I've ever seen something that is directly integrated to the body."

"Well that's what she said right," Halcyon said with a shrug, "But why is she trying to keep this stuff in the illegal market? She could make a killing with heroes."

"There's probably some laws she's breaking," Hawks suggested, "We'll have to look into it. I know you need certain licences to make equipment for heroes."

"It can't just be that simple," Morpho said, "She wouldn't put in this much effort to just dodge some government fees."

"What is her quirk anyway?" Halcyon asked, crossing her arms, "I don't remember ever finding out what it was."

"Actually," Hawks said, looking up at her, "I don't think I looked either."

"Pfft, Sloppy." She said, slapping his shoulder with her hand.

His wings twitched and he narrowed his eyes at her with a smirk, "You just said you didn't look either."

"Yeah well that's fine for me, but you're the pro. You should have-"

"Her fingers can extend and divide into smaller appendages," Perplex said as Morpho helped her stand, "In more basic terms, she can have multiple hands."

"So is it possible she's also our surgeon?" Hawks asked, but Perplex only shook her head.

"I doubt it," she said, "She would have needed many years of medical school to accomplish this kind of surgery. Even if she had someone guiding her I doubt she'd have the skill to accomplish this."

"So do we research like... Neurosurgeons or something?" Halcyon asked.

"I'll need to check her databases again," Perplex said with a sigh, "I hadn't been searching for that specifically before."

"What, you don't remember it all?" Halcyon teased.

"Unfortunately no," Perplex said with a wry smile, "I don't exactly have a photographic memory."

"Well, we have a lot of her guys in custody," Hawks said, "Plus Trick Fraud. I'd say that's good enough for now."

"Cool," Halcyon said, stretching her arms up over her head, "So? Wanna go get some ramen?"

"Ramen?" Morpho said with a smile, "That would be nice. A little celebratory meal, hmm?"

Halcyon grinned at him, linking her arm to his, "Fuck yeah. I knew you'd get it."

Hawks' feathers rustled and he cleared his throat. Morpho and Halcyon ignored him, already talking about where to go, when Perplex walked up beside him. She smiled at him knowingly, then linked her own arm with his and pulled him along.

"C'mon Hawks," she said, "Let's go."

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The four heroes sat in a cozy ramen place near Nest, the air filled with the comforting aroma of broth and noodles. It was one of those spots known only to locals—warm, dimly lit, and welcoming. After the long and exhausting mission, it was the perfect place to unwind.

Morpho was the first to take a seat, his wings folding neatly behind him as he settled into the booth. Perplex followed, her usual stoic expression softened by a hint of satisfaction. Hawks and Halcyon came last, with Hawks slumping into his seat, clearly worn out but still wearing that trademark grin.

“Nice choice,” Halcyon commented, sliding in across from Hawks. She had changed into her civilian clothes, her hair tousled from the day’s events. “I could eat a whole pot of ramen right now," she said with a grin.

Hawks chuckled, leaning back and stretching his wings slightly. “Let’s just make sure you leave some for the rest of us, huh?” he joked, tilting his head to one side.

Morpho glanced at the menu, his calm demeanor never wavering. “It’s on me,” he said, surprising all of them, “A small reward for a job well done and for including me on the team this time.”

Halcyon raised an eyebrow but didn’t object. “I’ll take the extra spicy,” she said, handing her menu to the server who appeared at the table.

As they placed their orders, there was a brief moment of silence, a collective exhale as the adrenaline began to fade.

“So, we finally got him,” Hawks said, his voice quieter than usual as he stared at the table, “Trick Fraud. That guy really knew how to push our buttons.”

Halcyon nodded, still feeling the lingering aches from their earlier fight. “He was a pain, but it’s good we figured out his quirk in time. I don't think we could have used Morpho's dust to catch him if we didn't.”

“Precognition,” Perplex added, tapping her fingers on the table, “It was a tough one to counter, but you two managed to outmaneuver him.”

Morpho looked at Hawks, his expression thoughtful. “You both adapted quickly. It wasn’t just about power—it was about strategy.”

Hawks smiled, though there was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. ��Couldn’t have done it without Halcyon," he said with a chuckle, "She’s stubborn as hell, but it worked out.”

Halcyon smirked, leaning back in her seat. “You’re not so bad yourself, Birdy," she admitted, "I guess we can make a decent team when we’re not at each other’s throats.”

The server returned with their food, and they all dug in, the conversation flowing more easily as they ate. For a moment, it was just like any other group of friends enjoying a meal. Their busy lives were temporarily forgotten in good food and booze.

As they reached the bottom of their bowls, Hawks glanced over at Halcyon. “You know,” he started with a teasing smirk, “for all the bickering, we really do work well together. Maybe if we actually just worked together without that extra bullshit we could have caught him sooner, eh?”

Halcyon shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips, “Well, you didn’t screw up as much as I thought you would. Guess that’s something to take for next time.”

Morpho watched them, a subtle smile on his face. “It’s good to see you two finally acknowledging each other’s strengths," he said, "There’s still a lot more ahead of us.”

Perplex nodded in agreement. “Dr. Hawthorne isn’t done," she said, her tone more serious, "This was just the beginning.”

Hawks’ expression darkened slightly at the mention of Dr. Hawthorne, but he quickly pushed the thought aside for now. “Yeah, well, we’ll take her down too," he said confidently, "Just like we did with Trick Fraud.”

Halcyon finished the last of her broth and set down her bowl with a satisfied sigh. “We’ve got this," she said, tipping her head back and closing her eyes.

The night air was cool as they stepped out of the ramen place, their bellies full and their spirits lifted. The streets were quiet, and the glow from the streetlights cast long shadows as they made their way back to Nest HQ.

Morpho walked a little ahead, his wings fluttering lightly with each step. Perplex followed close behind him, her mind likely already at work on the next task. Hawks and Halcyon trailed slightly, walking side by side in comfortable silence.

“You know,” Hawks began, glancing at Halcyon, “for all the crazy stuff that happened, I’m glad it was you that was helping me.”

Halcyon looked up at him, her expression unreadable at first. Then she nodded, a small, genuine smile forming. “Yeah," she said, her voice soft, "Me too.”

They reached the entrance to Nest, and for a moment, they both paused, neither wanting to break the calm that had settled between them. But with a round of goodbyes, they all went their separate ways.

Hawks had just returned to his apartment on the top floor, feeling pleasantly relaxed. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the back of an armchair as he glanced up at the skylight windows above. The stars twinkled brightly in the clear night sky, the vast expanse above a tapestry of light that called to him.

Unable to resist, he stretched out his wings and, with a powerful beat, soared up through the open window. The cool night air greeted him as he ascended to the rooftop of Nest, landing softly on the sloped tiles. He was surprised to see Halcyon already there, sitting cross-legged at the peak of the roof, her gaze fixed on the stars above.

She barely acknowledged his arrival, only offering him a brief glance before returning her attention to the sky. Hawks settled down beside her, the silence between them comfortable, almost companionable.

"It's a beautiful night," Hawks finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost reverent, as he admired the view.

Halcyon nodded, her expression calm. "Yeah, it's nice that it's warming up," she answered, "I'm glad spring is coming."

Hawks sighed, the tension he'd been holding in since earlier in the night starting to resurface. "Yeah... Spring is nice," he agreed, but there was a trace of frustration in his tone.

Halcyon smirked, catching the hint in his voice. "What, worried about your spring rut?" She teased.

Hawks blinked, genuinely surprised by her bluntness. "You know about that?" He asked, his wings fluttering.

She shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I was Chickadee for a few years, remember?" She said, "I saw the other birds dealing with it too."

He chuckled, though it was tinged with a bit of embarrassment. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense," he said, "I hate taking the hormones they give me to suppress it. They make me so angry and I can't stand that feeling."

Halcyon turned to face him slightly, her expression curious. "Why don’t you just find a girl then?" she asked, "I mean shit, you're cute. You're popular. It would probably be easy."

Hawks let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "It's not that simple," he said, "It's not really something I can do right now."

"Is it a mate-for-life thing?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing, "Like Kiwi?"

He hesitated, then nodded, a little shy about admitting it. "Yeah… something like that," he said quietly, his wings trembling slightly.

There was a long pause as the two of them sat in silence, the stars above twinkling down on them. Halcyon finally broke the quiet, her voice laced with a teasing edge. "So, what about that girl you were sleeping with?" she asked.

Hawks couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head. "No, no. It's not like that with her," he answered, "I've got my reasons, but I'm not looking for anything serious right now. I'm too busy, too focused on work."

He said the words confidently, but internally, he felt a pang of longing. A part of him wished he could have that kind of connection, but he had always convinced himself that it was impossible with his lifestyle. Not to mention the rules set up by the HPSC. It was better not to even think about it. He'd likely have to retire before he'd ever have the opportunity.

The silence stretched out between them again, the night quiet except for the distant hum of the city below. Finally, Halcyon smirked, her playful nature surfacing once more. "Well, I guess you'll just have to fuck your hand for life, then," she teased, making a jerk-off motion with her tongue poking out.

Hawks' eyes widened in surprise before he burst out laughing, his flustered reaction only making Halcyon grin wider. Her laughter soon joined his, and for a moment, all the worries and frustrations Hawks had been carrying seemed to melt away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He wheezed out, shoving her shoulder. She leaned on his arm, wiping at her eyes, laughing too hard to answer.

As the laughter died down, Hawks felt a sense of relief. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he found himself smiling more genuinely than he had in a while. The two of them sat there, side by side on the rooftop, sharing a moment of quiet camaraderie under the starlit sky.

For the first time in a long time, Hawks felt a little better, like maybe things weren't so bad after all.

Hawks and Halcyon sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, the stars above twinkling in the dark sky. Finally, Hawks let out a contented sigh and pushed himself up from the rooftop, brushing off the seat of his pants.

"Guess it's about time to call it a night," he said, stretching his wings briefly before tucking them back, "Got another long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Halcyon nodded, slowly uncrossing her legs and rising to her feet as well. "Yeah, you're right," she agreed, "Need to catch some sleep while we can."

They stood there for a moment, neither in a rush to head inside. Hawks turned to her, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Good night, Sera," he said softly.

Just as he was about to turn away, she surprised him by reaching out, her fingers gently brushing through his feathers. His breath caught in his throat, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. His cheeks flushed, and he glanced at her in surprise, his golden eyes wide.

But Halcyon only smiled faintly, her touch lingering for a moment longer before she stepped back. Then, in an instant, she shifted into her Phoenix form. Fiery wings unfurled, and she gracefully glided down from the rooftop, the soft glow of her wings trailing behind her like a comet as she descended to her own window. With a fluid motion, she slipped inside, disappearing from view.

Hawks stood there for a few moments, staring after her. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady the sudden rush of emotions that surged within him. There was something about Halcyon that always seemed to catch him off guard, leaving him both frustrated and intrigued.

He shook his head, a small, almost resigned smile forming on his lips. "What am I gonna do with you?" he muttered to himself. The attraction he felt toward her was undeniable, but so was the frustration that came with it. Their relationship was complicated, tangled up in a mess of emotions, past experiences, and professional boundaries.

Despite that, Hawks couldn't help but admit that she brought a certain fun and unpredictability to his life that he hadn't realized he was missing. The way she pushed his buttons, kept him on his toes, and yet, at the same time, made him feel more alive than he had in a long time.

With another sigh, he spread his wings and flew back down through the skylight, landing lightly on the floor of his apartment. He glanced around the familiar space, feeling a mix of satisfaction and unease. He knew that whatever this thing was between them, it wasn’t something he could easily shake off.

As he prepared for bed, Hawks couldn't help but replay the night in his mind, the lingering sensation of her fingers in his feathers, the way she had laughed with him, and the warmth in her eyes as she transformed into Phoenix and made her escape.

Frustrated but also oddly content, he crawled into bed, staring up at the ceiling as he let his thoughts wander. Whatever the future held for them, Hawks knew one thing for sure—Halcyon was someone he couldn't ignore, no matter how complicated things might get. And, deep down, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

⤶ Prev Main Next ↪

[thatswhatsushesaid]

While I do sympathise and agree that many of the ‘immoral’ thing JGY did were a direct response to others attacks on him, for survival and family normal or pragmatic behaviour (I honestly didn’t blame him for the incest at all, I agree there was nothing to be done; and I’m glad JGS died) I have some questions. Especially since you and another user mentioned that him being in power was better for more people (that he did things that benefitted others and him as a side effect too) - then how does one reconcile with what happened to the Tingshan He sect? And even the gamble he takes on JZX’s life by sending him after JZixun? That seems like self serving ambition…

Honestly, anything JGY did to get around or harm JGS and even NMJ, I agree. While one was better than the other, I don’t think either of them were great leaders, nor were they always reasonable, and he was likely a better leader than them.

(Also, I’ve heard varying accounts about the watchtowers being useful/useless, good intentioned and not, can you please point me towards the chapter that makes that clear?)

Thanks

hey anon, sorry for taking such a long time to respond to you! I believe that I answer most of the questions you raise here in my reblog over here, but I'll try to pull out the salient points for you in my reply. fwiw I'm not going to dig down into the jgy-jzx stuff because I think @lansplaining did a great job of that already over here, but my tl;dr version for myself is that I just think mdzs-jgy was mad, made a bad judgment call, and assumed that wwx would have more control over wn than he did.

okay, now to address the rest of your ask:

the tingshan he

the first thing to remember about the tingshan he is that jgy is demonstrably not in power when this sect is brought to xy's demonic cultivation wonderland. jgs is still the jin sect leader. I bring this up because I think it's important to acknowledge that the tingshan he were going to die whether jgy was present to serve as death's ferryman or not. their fates were sealed as soon as they began actively agitating against jgs's desire to establish the position of chief cultivator. here's the relevant sections I highlighted from the villainous friends extras:

as I pointed out in my linked reblog, what this shows us is two things: 1) jgy began with diplomacy and negotiation to try to bring the tingshan he to heel, and I believe we can reliably trust that this is true; if it weren't, he su would have protested this as a lie; and 2) in he su's own words, the tingshan he were prepared to oppose jgs's desires with violence.

however, anon, if you're hoping I'll write something here that will thoroughly cleanse the figurative blood of the tingshan he from jgy's hands (since he is not the one doing the actual killing--xy is), then that's not going to happen--just like there is nothing that anyone can write about wwx's actions vis-à-vis his gruesome murder of wang lingjiao, wen chao, and the other wen sect cultivators that he tortures, mutilates, and kills in the aftermath of the sacking of lotus pier that will remove their literal blood from his hands. I'm not going to say anything that will make one of these actions more morally (I hate this word now) redeemable than the other, because even though their circumstances are different, the acts themselves are still quite awful!

one thing I did not point out in my linked meta, however, and which I do think is significant to call out when examining the full context of the violence that jgy oversees, is the amount of control that jgy does not have over how xue yang chooses to kill the tingshan he. please note that these excerpts are pretty gruesome because, uh. well, canon-typical xue yang, pretty much:

so, on the one hand, xy clearly cuts out he su's tongue here because he is flinging the usual shitty insult at jgy, making a dig about his birth status and his mother. which, yay, thank you xue yang c': but also, jgy is clearly surprised that xy does not kill he su and the rest of his sect before giving them to the fierce corpses. then we have the paragraph that follows:

here, jgy is visibly disturbed by the cries of the children specifically, and though he doesn't step in to intervene, I still find his visceral reaction to what he is witnessing significant when considering his character and how he feels broadly about the violence he facilitates. because yes, he brought the tingshan he to this place knowing that they were going to be killed because of their political opposition to his father's plans. he knew that bringing them to the demonic cultivation grounds meant that they were going to be given to xy for his macabre body horror experiments to pursue demonic cultivation. neither of those things mean that he expected them to be ripped apart while still alive, or that he's emotionally or psychologically untouched by what his actions have brought about.

so... how should we reconcile /gestures @ all of this, The Horrors with all of the tangible good that jgy puts into the cultivation world later on? my short response is, the exact same way wwx stans reconcile wwx's Horrors with his later good deeds (tho as you've probably guessed I don't lean as much on inherent moral goodness or badness in my analyses). so to make this work, we also have to take a look at what constitutes jgy's good deeds. nb: this is essentially what I wrote in my reblog meta, but I'm going to copy/paste or paraphrase/lightly edit it here just to keep everything in one place:

jgy's tangible positive impact on the jianghu

the initial points I raised in my reblog meta (different link from above) emphasize the tangible positive impact that jgy's actions put into the world: peace and stability for both the gentry and the common people. here are the following points where I provide more support for my initial arguments.

his tenure as chief cultivator and jin sect leader objectively does preserve jin ling's place in the line of succession, because once he is gone, we see that jin ling's position is not secure. period. this is in the text. this isn't an opinion. [edit: there’s some good discussion between myself and @madtomedgar in the comments of this post wrt jgy, jl as heir, and how much responsibility jgy has for destabilizing his life in the first place.] from chapter 116, the "banquet" extra:

furthermore, jgy does rein in the fiscal corruption that had been rampant under jgs's tenure. we know this because the text tells us so in the "iron hook" extra (chapter 123):

beyond making it unquestionably clear that lanling is in a much shittier position now that jgy is gone, this part 👆is further confirmed in the official character index of the 7seas translation--which is not something I usually rely upon in my analyses, but it makes clear the broad perception of life in the jianghu under jgs vs jgy:

jgs's character summary: "Under [Jin Guangshan's] rule, the Jin Sect was loathed by the cultivation world for its shameless abuses, corruption, and excesses."

jgy's character summary: "Jin Guangyao rose from humble circumstances and became not only the head of the Jin Sect but also the Cultivation Chief of the inter-sect alliance. His work as an undercover spy was instrumental in the success of the Sunshot Campaign. His skill at politicking and networking is matched by none, and through restructuring and reparations he was able to largely make up for the damage done to the Jin Sect's reputation by his father's rule."

in one of these scenarios, corruption was rampant enough that everyone was unhappy. in the other scenario, that corruption was reined in, and that matters.

the jianghu is also objectively the safest and most peaceful it has ever been under jgy's tenure as chief cultivator, and I don't think this gets acknowledged enough. looking to chapter 45 when wwx and jl are talking about the past, and jl is sulkily pointing out that both his uncles became famous at "fifteen-or-so," wwx's own thoughts are:

Wei WuXian commented in silence, That’s not the same! Back then, the QishanWen Sect was still on top and everyone had to watch out. If they didn’t fight and cultivate as much as possible, who knew if they’d be the next one to run out of luck? During the Sunshot Campaign, you’d be hauled to the battlefields no matter if you were fifteen or any other age. Now, since the situations is stable and the sects are at peace, of course the atmosphere isn’t as tense and people don’t cultivate like they’re crazy. There’s no need anymore.

in other words (to paraphrase some commentary by @xiyao-feels) when the wen were in charge, the world was a shitty and dangerous place filled with war and violence--and now the world is peaceful, and kids like jin ling are allowed to grow up without the very real possibility of being marched off to war hanging over their head at all times. jgy is the chief cultivator who made this reality possible.

and a big part of why the jianghu is a more stable and peaceful place also comes down to the watchtowers, which is one of the points you specifically wanted more details on, anon! so we'll go to chapter 42 in the novel to look at them in more detail:

After Jin GuangYao officially succeeded the position of Sect Leader and became the Chief Cultivator, he immediately gathered people and resources from the sects, and started to carry out his past goals. In the beginning, the voices of opposition were deafening. A lot of people suspected that the LanlingJin Sect used it to gain personal benefits and stuff its own pockets. With a smiling face, Jin GuangYao persisted for five years. During the years, he allied but also fell out with countless people. Using both gentle and forceful methods, he did all that he could and what he wished for was finally completed. More than twelve hundred “lookout towers” had been built.

These “lookout towers” were scattered around the more remote places. Every one of them were assigned disciples from certain sects. If anything strange happened, they’d take action at once. When they couldn’t deal with the matter, they’d send out messages to other sects or rogue cultivators for help. Even if the cultivators who came wanted something in return while the locals were too poor to give them any, the money that the LanlingJin Sect gathered throughout each year would be enough to support them. [red emphasis mine]

All of these happened after the death of the YiLing Patriarch. Wei WuXian only heard the ins and outs from Lan WangJi after they passed a few lookout towers during their journey. Rumors had it that Koi Tower was preparing to build the next batch of lookout towers, increasing them to three thousand in number so that they covered a greater area. Although after the first lookout towers were built, they received widespread approvals due to their notable effects, the voices of suspicion and ridicule had never died either. When the time came, the cultivation world would definitely be thrown into chaos again.

five years!! that is a long-ass time to devote to a project, particularly one that costs him substantial political capital as well as actual money, if your only goal is the consolidation of political clout, because a lot can happen in the span of five years. it certainly isn't the right way to go about laundering money, since for a money laundering scheme to work, it has to actually, you know. pass through a system that is actually making money in the first place, which this one transparently was not. if it was a guaranteed money-maker, jgs would not have opposed wasting time on something that 👆(see above) clearly devotes lanling jin resources towards supporting the poor who cannot protect themselves. whatever the political opposition to the project by jin sect opponents, for the broader jianghu and the common people, the success of the watchtower program was a net positive. anyway: when acting exclusively under his own power and allowed to make his own decisions free of fear and danger, jgy is fundamentally not a destructive character. (thank you again, @confusion-and-more)

okay I think this should answer most of your questions, anon! please do hmu again if you want me to dig down into anything else, I am, as always, super happy to talk about jgy at the drop of a hat.

[aurumcalendula]

Combat & Chemistry | Nv Er Hong (2023)

premiered at DC-Slash 2023!

(password: AurumCalendulaVids)

AO3 | DW

[dixbolik-lovers]

Next commissioned short fic— canon!Azusa, this time! Warning that this one involves canon-typical violence and self-harm behavior, and is just... generally very unhealthy, even though both Azusa and Reader are into it. Azusa's a little freak, basically. >w>

. . .

The knife in Azusa’s hand is small, but its well-polished shine promises a clean, deep cut. You know he’s done this kind of thing to himself plenty of times, that it would take a lot more than a few slices of what’s little more than a pocket knife to do a vampire any actual harm, and yet... 

You can’t help but be a little hesitant to go through with it. 

“Come on... take it...” Azusa says in that slow, hazy way of his. “It’ll... feel good, you know...” The look he’s giving you is eager, lusting, with far more passion than you’re used to seeing from his generally placid self. 

He passes the knife into your grasp. The handle is smooth and cool, made of some unidentifiable, mahogany-colored material studded with small, silver decorations. Its blade has the slightest curve, catching the dim light of Azusa’s bedroom on its unmarred surface. You turn it over once, twice, examining the tool that’s about to cut into someone’s flesh. 

Azusa shrugs off his cardigan, baring pale, worryingly thin arms. The uneven, twisting scars that already cover them vary in thickness— some wide and gnarled, some barely more than slightly darkened lines. 

“You’re sure you want this...?” you ask. 

“Mhmm...” He nods. “I want to... feel your love... You love me, right...? Show me...” Smiling dreamily, Azusa offers you his wrist. 

Even though your heart feels lodged in your throat, you doubt he’ll take no for an answer, at this point. And... you’re tempted, more than you’d like to admit, to follow through with this. Maybe some part of you is sick too, wanting to see what expression Azusa’s fragile self will make when it hurts. 

So you take his hand. With the knife in one of yours and Azusa’s cool, bony fingers in the other, you resign yourself to what you’re about to do. 

The first cut is thin and shallow, but the knife still glides through Azusa’s skin like it’s nothing. It barely takes any pressure to draw a few small beads of blood— to have him drawing a slow, trembling breath. 

“Deeper...” he pleads. What can you do but comply? 

The next one does indeed go deeper. Blood pools from the cut and trails down the side of Azusa’s arm, the rich, vivid red a sharp contrast to the unhealthy pallor of his flesh. With the third one, he whines. Your hands are shaking, but... it’s getting easier. There’s a certain thrill to this, somehow, especially as you watch the excited flush that slowly blooms across his face. Azusa likes this. You’re the one making him moan. 

It’s erotic, almost, watching the blood spill from even the shallowest of wounds. He’s breathless and shaking, eyes glazed with obvious pleasure— and all you’ve had to do is drag a blade across his skin. 

“Does it feel good?”

Azusa mumbles something incoherent in response. He’s making the same face he does when nuzzles into your chest, when you stroke his hair. 

He likes it. Can you really feel guilty when you know that for sure?

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

For the WIP Ask Game!

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone?

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing?

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it?

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

Hi, Birdie! Have fun!

Thank you so much, Salty, for giving me the opportunity to talk about TGN once again (the fic has corrupted my brain)!!! <3

📚 [Books] Is this WIP part of a series or standalone?

It's at the moment just that 30 something chapter WIP, however I am definitely playing with the idea of leaving the ending so that I might give it a sequel, following two of those characters from the story. Never say never, am I right? ;)

💖 [Heart] What is your favorite moment in this WIP?

Right now I think it must be from Chapter 7: The Sharp Hush, Jonathan's and Vlad's little fight. I just love writing their dysfunctional dynamic, and that moment in which Drac just grasps Jonathan's chin, hissing at him, really does it for my little whump lover heart. The fact that Lestat is close by and sees that fuckery, but doesn't react the slightest... umph! That said, I also enjoyed writing Jonathan giving into the blood urge and just letting go, as well as a scene in a future chapter i cannot wait to write!

🔎 [Magnifier] Is there a phrase/word you know you use too often? Will you change it in editing?

As of now, I have 14 times someone tilting their head to the side, and a couple of times tilting it up/down (@okrii). I know i have a problem, but I cannot bring myself to stop. Thankfully vampires don't get neck pain (or not of that kind, at least ;))

🌈 [Rainbow] If at the beginning of your WIP the characters knew about the end, would they kill you to stop you from writing it?

Drac would be furious. Lestat wouldn't want to have anything to do with it. Louis might be overwhelmed, but would possibly take the challenge. Jonathan..... Jonathan would, in all honestly, eventually, thank me for it.

❌ [Cross] What would your WIP get cancelled on Twitter for?

Oof. Seriously? Probably everything i write the characters doing. Showing period typical attitudes, racism, homophobia, grooming, physical violence, non-consensual touching, themes like sex work, self hatred, abuse. Also Probably harm to animals? (Rats and a bird, RIP :( )

Ask Game here

[joysofescapism]

Book Review: Den of Vipers by K.A. Knight

Ryder, Garrett, Kenzo, and Diesel—The Vipers. They run this town and everyone in it. Their deals are as sordid as their business, and their reputation is enough to bring a grown man to his knees, forcing him to beg for mercy. They are not people you mess with, yet my dad did. The old man ran up a debt with them and then sold me to cover his losses. Yes, sold me. They own me now. I’m theirs in every sense of the word. But I’ve never been meek and compliant. These men, they look at me with longing. Their scarred, blood-stained hands holding me tight. They want everything I am, everything I have to give, and won’t stop until they get just that. They can own my body, but they will never have my heart. The Vipers? I’m going to make them regret the day they took me. This girl? She bites too.

Read my full review below the cut.

Trigger Warning: violence, graphic torture, death, gore, graphic mutilation, domestic abuse, kidnapping, self-harm, sexual abuse, blood play, gunplay, knife play, sexual violence.

I will start by saying that this book was one of those hate-to-love kinds. I really cannot believe that I enjoyed it despite the numerous groans and frustrated screams I did.

Was it the smut? Was it the mind-numbing scenes I couldn’t believe I was reading? Because it sure as hell was not the plot nor the characters.

Each time I read dark romance, I always prepare myself for a ton of suspension of disbelief. I would also remind myself what I was getting into. But, oh boy, Den of Vipers still made my eyebrow twitch despite all that.

When I first read it, I loved it. It was the time when I was binge-reading dark and mafia romance so that might be the reason. Since I was already in that headspace, I only got to compare it to the similar tropes I was already reading. But, for the second and third time, I was confused about why I loved it.

Characters

Roxy. The take-no-shit heroine, always angry and swore to fight her kidnappers, but would also jump their bones without hesitation, so there is that.

I did not like her character. She was a typical one in these kinds of books which made me sad. I wanted more strong and angry heroines but, not the one who loses their backbone when a hot guy comes. I do not mind body-betrayal tropes, but that was not executed well in this book.

She was flip-flopping a lot. If she was consistent with what she was saying and (sometimes) thinking then I might like her. But there was none of that.

Ryder. The boss man. The one who needs to always be cold and in control. His character isn’t complex, just a typical alphahole trope.

Maybe I would have liked him if he kept to his role and not said cringey things that would pull me out of my immersion.

Kenzo. The pretty boy. The least crazy among the men. I was actually quite intrigued by him, he was what I hoped was one of the complex characters.

He was the resident charmer with a few hints of insanity which he showed by… switching his facial expressions quickly. I really had too high of expectations from him.

Garrett. The big guy. He was the enforcer and the one who could crush your skull with his bare hands. He was also the hero who hated the heroine (at first, of course).

Man, I also have a lot of expectations from Garrett. If only he did not constantly call Roxy “baby” even during his breakdowns. It did not make me swoon, nope. It was out of place.

Diesel. The crazy guy. No, really, he’s absolutely sick in the head. When I read about his character I actually exclaimed “Yes! Thank f*ck!” I loved him. He was the perfect character to open the story for me.

Alright, disclaimer, just because I love me some crazy man it does not mean I want one in real life. This is fiction. Let’s be mature with critical thinking skills here. Okay? Okay.

Anyway, he was the most complex character among the four and the bar is low. He enjoyed torturing and killing people. But, he would also be holding and caring for Roxy when it was just the two of them. On the other end of that, each time they come together (heh, you got what I mean? No? Okay…) he would also sexually torture her with literal physical torture. Going at it while there was still a fresh dead body beside you was nothing new for me. I was already desensitized by it. I was shocked to see myself reading through all that.

He was all over the place and I loved it. That made me feel icky for liking a character like him. He made me question my morals, goddamn.

When Roxy said something about riding the crazy train I completely agreed.

Nevertheless, these men did not feel like authoritative figures at all. Sure, they would always say that “they run this city” but how they talk does not show that. They felt immature like those bully high school romances with gangs in them. They do not feel like mob bosses. Perhaps it’s because their power was more told to us than shown.

It was my fault for having too high of expectations since I always incorporate powerful people with silence. Which, are not these guys. They talk a lot.

One thing I like most about first-person POVs is that I can see the character’s thought process. However, the characters (especially the men) here might be distinct from each other and each had their own voice but, the supposed maturity they should have did not shine through. Again, I felt like I was reading a bully romance with edgy teenagers more than anything.

Plot

There really is not much to talk about the plot. I don’t think the people who enjoyed this book will talk about the plot at all.

I was intrigued yes. And the smut was one of those “is it legal to like this one?” kind of smut.

It was not amazingly written but the shock value upped the ante, both the smut and the plot points. It pushed my limits and it made me take a peek at my dark side.

Ending

Again, nothing to really talk about. It was the best ending the book could offer. I’m sorry. I really do not have anything to say about the whole plot of this book. It was nothing special.

Rating

When I first read Den of Vipers, I gave it 5 stars. But for the second and third time, I finally saw what I was blinded to see initially and gave it a 3-star.

The only category in my CAWPILE system that had a high score was Intrigue and Enjoyment. Which I gave enjoyment a 10. Everything else was either a meh or a fail.

Despite that, I need to give credit where credit is due. This book stayed in my head for so long. Each time I read a mafia romance after, I would compare it to this. Each time I would encounter obsessive, insane, completely unhinged alphaholes, I would compare it to this. Its craziness stuck in my head, and I consider that impressive since I read a lot. If a book does that to me, then, they did a good job.

Final Thoughts

Do I want a sequel for this series? Hard pass.

Do I recommend this to others? Two words for you. Gore and Porn. If you’re into that, then go for it.

Was this a heavy read? It is heavy on the dark side. Please read with caution and heed the trigger warnings.

Will I read this again? Nope. Not again.

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[silveronc]

( SILVERONC ) : independent &. private &. selective roleplay blog for violet sorrengail from the empyrean series. novel canon based with headcanon influences. triggering &. mature themes present. faithfully transcribed from navarrian into the modern language by ghost. all events are true &. names have been preserved to honor the courage of those fallen. may their souls be commended to malek.

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disclaimer. this blog is not spoiler free.

temp info under the cut.

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two. if you’re not familiar or don’t know me, i’m GHOST: a queer 29 year old non binary asshole who uses they/them pronouns. i’m extremely adhd, autistic, and just super duper depressed. my activity is considered sparse / low at all times. speed is not a priority, nor am i a fast partner. the speed in which i reply to things is in no way a reflection of the thread, muse, partner, etc. but of my own limitations. i am extremely duplicate friendly. i won't follow others first out of respect for other writers unless i know they're okay with duplicates as well.

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seven. beta editor only and xkit rewritten to cut posts. i use minor formatting at best, some bolds and italics with double or triple spacing. due to my terrible eyesight, i prefer to use the large-sized font.

eight. i am a plot-focused writer. i prefer to build dynamics and relationships together before we start writing. i have a strong preference for dark, angsty, or feelsy plots. i don’t mind a little fluff sprinkled in when it makes sense, but pure fluff will make me lose interest in a dynamic or thread very quickly.

[dkniade]

August 7/30, 2023.

Kind of a part 2 to “Be Not Undone By Thine Own Hand”. Stanza as the narrator, and the poet as the second person, huh…?

Warning: violence typical of a fencing duel, minor swearing, mentions blood, mentions thoughts of self-harm in Japanese

Fencing Stanza

…Going to pick a fight against your own poetry? Well, come!

(Begone, this cloak of darkness! And I suggest yours too.)

I’ve been waiting for this.

So cross blades again! Let sparks fly again! Be it a dagger or rapier,

if it helps you find yourself—who gives a shit about

self-image from the outside?

(Eyes on me. Parry, riposte.)

Beauty standards of poetry

ripped to shreds as confetti—

or so we promised last time, huh?

何もないなら夜に叫ぶ。

負けたくないならもう一回！

刃を磨いて優雅になる。

今日はどうだい？今夜は？

“Be not undone by thine own hand”?

Be not DKNIADE by thine own hand, either!

You say no more secrets, no more hiding, so—

Come on, show me what you’re capable of!

この世界には

僕ら以外誰もいないなら

戦おうか、詩人？それとも…

怖いか？

「自分を傷つける思い出は…

くだらないでしょ」と言うの君。

「全部忘れてしまいたいです。」

「まだ続けたいけど、どうしようか…」

何もできないなら前に進め！

But a blind dash sans clarity will get you nowhere.

If you want to wield this blade,

then at least know why you’re fencing to begin with, huh?

Do not see me as weak, but do not see me as dangerous either.

Now fight me, and remember why you fight.

“Why I fight…?”

“I said once:

The poet hurts the poetry.

The poem’s life is wrung out: dry.”

“And you responded:

I am your sword, and my blade is yours.

by the black ink, white page,

I pledge myself to you.”

“I’m the shooting star that

pierces the dark heavens.

I’m the comfort amidst a crowd so foreign.”

“I remember now.

My words shouldn’t be a blade, but a witness and canvas.

And if it must be a blade, it was never meant to be

pointed at others, because all this time—

I’ve been in conflict with myself.

You’re the poetic side of me, Stanza?

Then I shall negotiate with 夜曲, that ever-logical side—

No, then I shall accept you as-is, as myself.

I’ll fight against you no more.”

Heh… That Evernight Princess really gave you courage, huh?

So begone, this cloak of hiding. Time to begin proper.

Lower your sword and change its image.

You shall bleed no more.

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