#he’s been abused and assaulted and tortured and mutilated

[thranduel]

bg3 is getting popular and the fandom is getting bigger so i’m just gonna say this now lol

i’m already waiting for the astarion hate to begin just because he’s a popular character and the internet always gets mad when someone gets popular lol :/ “he’s so overrated!!!!”, “he’s not even that good”, “he’s horrible and mean”, blah blah blah. he’s a well-written and very complex fictional character with an incredibly talented voice actor that most of us have been excited to see in the full game for the past 3 years. people are allowed to like him. he’s popular for many reasons, not just “wow handsome vampire”. his character tropes are also very popular in fiction and people tend to get drawn to characters like him because they’re interesting, have deep backstories and we want to see redemption arcs. enemies to friends + enemies to lovers are also some of the most well-loved tropes. characters being loved and popular is NOT a bad thing and i don’t know why people get so bitter about it. and fyi this isn’t about people who simply don’t like him for their own reasons, i understand why he might not be everyone’s cup of tea and that’s totally valid, it’s more about people who only randomly started to hate him just because he’s popular

it kinda reminds me of when the internet turned on eddie munson from stranger things. i still can’t get over how everyone immediately switched up on him and hopped on the hate bandwagon just because he became popular. and then it became “trendy” to hate him. people who previously liked him when volume 1 came out totally changed and then started picking out every tiny little flaw just to hate on him. i used to see edits of him everywhere and then it turned into calling him cringe and making fun of anyone who liked him. even cosplayers got hated on and bullied for… having fun? like yeah you might find some things cringe but the way the entire internet bullied these people and enjoyed laughing at them was SO weird to me

again, it’s totally fine for people to dislike certain characters and have their own opinions. but ONLY hating on them just because they’re popular and then trying to guilt trip/make people feel like idiots for liking them is so weird

[tentakrool]

tw mouthwashing spoilers

jimmy forces everyone around him to take responsibility for his actions. curly is forced to address anya’s distress and assault because jimmy won’t do it. jimmy pins the crash on curly by putting him in a situation where he knows curly will try to fix it, thus placing him at the scene. anya takes her own life because she’s been led to think curly’s dilemma was her fault (not to mention the pregnancy). daisuke is manipulated into taking responsibility for anya and curly’s safety and climbs into the vent, only to be severely injured. swansea saves the cryo pod for daisuke because he knows jimmy is too selfish to consider anyone’s safety above his own. he also puts daisuke out of his misery after it becomes clear that jimmy doomed him. the only person he takes responsibility for is curly, out of spite, so that he can torture and abuse him.

that continues after everyone is dead. he becomes obsessed with “saving curly” because in his mind, that’s the only person he really did wrong. the only person he cares about. and he does this by mutilating and consuming the man who had taken responsibility for him in the first place, by getting him this job and constantly taking up for him. only after completely losing his mind does jimmy try to take some semblance of personal accountability.

by then it’s far too late, and he ultimately dooms curly to a life of eternal guilt and despair — because in curly’s mind, he is ultimately the failure. and that’s the irony the game. by taking responsibility for everyone, and not requiring jimmy to step up or experience consequences, he set the game’s tragedies into motion.

when it comes to “taking responsibility”, there’s a fine line to tread. curly believed that as captain, the crew was solely his responsibility—and honestly? pony express probably reinforces that— but in doing so, he absolved jimmy of his sins, and empowered him to torture the crew as acting captain. to use his authority against them.

it’s sad and horrific, but it teaches an important lesson about the dangers of letting your personal feelings get in the way of your judgement. ultimately that’s both jimmy and curly’s main weakness, and it’s how jimmy manipulated curly so efficiently — a narcissist preying upon a good man’s instinct to take responsibility.

[naomikozura]

Loss of My Life: Final Part

Heian Era! True Form! Ryomen Sukuna x Sorcerer!Fem!Reader

A/N: I was listening to Ptolemaea by Ethel Cain and the climax of this chapter pairs up so well with the entirety of that song. You’ll see once it gets towards the middle/end of the chapter but I highly recommend listening to that song bc it’s so good and haunting.

This chapter shows INTENSE GRUESOME SCENES including torture, child death/murder (mentioned but not in detail), abuse, gore, massacre of a family, burning buildings and so much more!!! This is a DARK THEME story, it is meant as a work of FICTION and its 18+ ONLY MDNI!!!!

I am not responsible if you feel uncomfortable since you have been warned about the trigger warnings since the beginning! This is a work of FICTION so continue at your own risk!!

Warnings: INSTENSE SCENES, strong language, violence, mention of mass murder, generational trauma, complicated family dynamics, family abuse, murder, emotional turmoil and abuse, sadistic tendencies, corruption of power, dark themes, burning down villages, murder, masochistic tendencies, forced drowning, mutilated bodies, sadistic behavior, bodily harm, mentions of blood, child murder (brief), torture, psychological torture, assassination, drugging, inebriation, physical assault, gore, mentions of guts, angst no comfort,

WC: 12K

Series Masterlist

Part 3

There were many things within the realm that were believed to be for the better of the jujutsu world, many things that the Four families were able to provide for the rest of the realm. Power, protection, resources, and stability. There hadn’t been any of that before the Four became established and marked off the territories that they would reign over for the past few decades. When Sukuna had risen through the realm and word of his power spread across all territories, that promise of protection and stability slowly started to wither away. 

He’d sent his destruction into every village he burned and tortured every one who held cursed energy in order for him to absorb it and gain more power. It had given him the reputation that led to his now wicked presence, a presence so overwhelming that even the sorcerers in the Four exercised caution around him. Anything demanded by him would always be met with compliance and if anyone refused, he’d easily exterminate them and absorb his energy, growing his power and solidifying his claim further. 

So, when he asked for your hand, your father had no choice but to comply. Your marriage taking place in front of the entirety of the Four and the representatives of the realm. It was a testament of your position by his side, something he believed would ultimately give you the power and claim to keep the foolish sorcerers from threatening you. 

You had stayed under his protection, living freely in his territory and becoming one as sorcerers and as divine souls. Even his followers started to see you as the queen to his claim, the perfect position next to their king. 

Your influence shifted everything, word of your change had reached the very corners of the Four territories. You were held to a higher regard next to Sukuna than you had ever been considered within your family. Your family had also gained more power due to your marriage with the King of Curses. They were more revered, feared, respected, putting them in the ranks of power next to the Gojo’s and surpassing the Zen’in. 

The Zen’in had taken the blow significantly, their anger spiraling as they tried to regain their position in the realm. It seemed as though they were further from power than ever, and all due to the power of your influence as the realm’s Princess of Peace. Even in Sukuna’s presence, you were the embodiment of peace regardless of the dark corners you had hidden in your soul.

You were careful in your position, continuing to visit your family and meeting with the leaders of the other families to talk over political claim. The clans knew that anything against Sukuna was forbidden, but you assumed your position to keep the realm free from war. You had brought in a time of peace, leaving the villages and territories under tranquility within the Four’s territories. Even Sukuna had extended himself to go beyond the clan territory for his absorption of energy. 

The Four Families were in a moment of peace thanks to you. Sukuna passed over them in disregard as he moved through the realm to absorb energy elsewhere. 

You were with your family again today, meeting them in strategy to keep the villages safe from the imposing threat of thieves that had been spiking in numbers throughout the realm. Your father still held his reservations, but deep down you knew this was in favor of his life and your family’s more than anything. 

As the meeting concluded, you found Uraume waiting outside, smiling at her as you walked in step with her to head towards your home. She had been dedicated to your protection since Sukuna had found cursed residue in the territory near your home. He’d already put a bike over your home, hiding your energy and his but still there were remnants of cursed users near the territory where you resided. 

It wasn’t uncommon for sorcerers to go after Sukuna, but with the reports of thieves raiding nearby villages, he preferred sending Uraume with you on your runs. She was a devoted follower and when you had married Sukuna, she became devoted to you as well. She was strong and knew that fulfilling her duty of protecting you was of most importance. So when you went back home, she escorted you. When you went out to the villages who didn’t know who you were outside of the clan’s territories, she followed. 

As the both of you walked through the woods, the sound of crows above you sounded out. Your head turned towards the trees, looking at the small black birds, four of them perched perfectly on the branches as they watched you and Uraume walk through the woods. You cocked your head slightly, feeling an odd sensation that something was not quite right, but you shrugged it off and continued walking as you reached the village in the outskirts of town. It was quiet, tranquil and seemed to bustle with calmness as people walked through the small market area. 

You observed the people moving about with a calm, almost mechanical grace. Their interactions were polite but a strange feeling filled the air as you walked through the booths. The market stalls were filled with traditional items: beautifully crafted pottery, delicate silks, and intricate wooden carvings. It wasn’t often you’d come out to see these kinds of things but the rare moments would mean a lot to you. 

As you walked through, you noticed a woman at a stall selling ornate pendants. They were beautifully crafted, each adorned with symbols and designs that seemed to pulse with a strange energy. One in particular caught your eye. It was a pendant with an intricate design that seemed to shift subtly in the light, featuring a depiction of a shinigami—a dark spirit that many jujutsu sorcerers disregarded, but a shift in the color made you uneasy.

As you tried to reach for the pendant, Uraume’s urgent voice cut through your thoughts. “We need to go,” she said, her eyes observing everyone closely, the distrust obvious in her tone. 

“What’s wrong?”, you whispered, turning towards her fully as she grasped your hand gently, pulling you out of the market and back towards the woods. “Uraume”, you pressed. 

“There was undetected energy there, my job is to keep you out of harm's way and if I can’t detect the energy, I will not let us stay there any longer.”, she answered as the two of you moved through the woods. You clenched your jaw, following closely behind her as you went back home. 

The walk home was quiet, Uraume filled with a perceptiveness that left her looking over every tiny thing she felt was strange or off putting. She was tasked to protect you and she would follow Sukuna’s orders to her death, she was one of his many loyal followers, but definitely his most trusted. 

When you reached home, you met Sukuna inside, his arms wrapped around you as he stepped out with Uraume for a moment as you changed out of your clothes. 

“There was residual energy in the town we’d visited. I made sure we got out of there as fast as possible.”, she filled him in, the hum leaving his throat filled with contemplation. 

“There were residuals a few miles from here too.”, he muttered. “It’ll be in best interest to lower a shield over the home.”

Uraume nodded as she finished filling him in, Sukuna dismissing her as he went inside to be with you. He took in your form in a different pair of clothes as you walked over to him, placing your head on his chest as you breathed him in. 

“Hey.”, you whispered as you looked up at him. He leaned down, his lips capturing yours as you smiled into the kiss. “How was your patrol?”

“It was fine.”, he muttered, his hands grabbing your body gently to be flush against his. “There was something out in the woods a couple of miles outside the territory. Energy residuals.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, looking at him confused. “Energy residuals?”

“Just another lowlife sorcerer probably trying to get my attention for something.”, he muttered, his energy spiraling in annoyance. “It’ll be taken care of. I’ll put a shield over the home. They won’t come near you.”, he placed a gentle kiss on the curve of your neck. 

“You worry a lot, you know that right?”, you looked at him with worry. “You need to rest. You’re going to tire yourself out if you keep staying out all night and morning.”

“I’ll be fine.”, he whispered, his body morphing into his true form and lifting you into his arms. “So long as you’re safe.”

You ran a hand through his hair, his eyes closing to bask in your touch as he carried you to your bedroom. His body hovering over yours as he kissed your neck, your soft laughs turning into gentle moans, moving his way from your lips down to your core. There was nothing Sukuna loved more than pleasuring his wife, he could spend all day doing this. 

Indulging in you was something he’d grown addicted to, something he would never tire of. You were music to his ears and the queen of his realm. You were his everything in every way. 

He’d do anything for you, even spend all day in bed pleasing you. 

Sukuna’s night patrol had been unusually unsettling over the past few days. The residual energy he had picked up on his patrols was different from the usual lingering traces of curses. It had a peculiar, almost faintly familiar signature, and it was closer to your home than he would have liked. As he made his way back, his mind was clouded with suspicion.

He arrived home to find Uraume waiting for him, her expression unreadable but attentive. Without wasting time, Sukuna filled her in on the residual energy and his suspicion as to why it was getting closer to your territory.

“I found more,” Sukuna began, his tone serious. “It’s getting closer. I want you to keep a close eye on Y/n. Don't leave her side when I'm not here."

Uraume nodded, her eyes sharp with understanding. “Of course."

Sukuna moved through the corridors of his home, his steps echoing with a sense of urgency. He found you sitting on the floor witha bucket of water in front of you, your back turned as you scrubbed at a stubborn stain on some clothes. The sight of you, immersed in your task, brought a slight calm to his thoughts.

You looked up as Sukuna entered, his presence filling the room with that familiar warmth you loved. “Everything okay?” you asked, sensing something different in his demeanor.

Sukuna’s gaze softened as he approached you. “I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice gentle. “There's been residual energy found in the outer territories. It's been getting closer to the house.”

He flexed his jaw, contemplating the situation as he continued. "I need you to let me feel your energy anytime we aren't together. I already have Uraume on watch when I'm on patrol."

You met his eyes, understanding the gravity of his words. His concern was evident, and you could see how it weighed on him. You stepped closer, your heart aching with empathy for his worry.

“Okay, I will,” you said softly.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. It was a gentle, reassuring gesture, meant to soothe his concern. Sukuna’s lips responded after a brief moment, deepening the kiss, letting the contact ground him and momentarily ease his tension.

When you finally pulled back, Sukuna’s expression was softer, the lines of worry easing just a bit. He placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a rare tenderness.

“Be careful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be watching over you too.”

You nodded, a reassuring smile on your lips. “I know.”

Sukuna gave a small, appreciative nod before turning to leave, his mind still alert. Uraume’s watchful presence would ensure your safety, and the connection between you two was a bond that couldn’t easily be broken.

As he stepped out, a renewed sense of vigilance accompanied him. You were his priority, your safety was above all else. As he moved through the woods, the felt your energy whirl around him, the connection easing the tension in his shoulders as he continued through the night.

One Week Later

The evening was warm, filled with the sound of birds chirping outside and the evening sun setting the perfect scene for the events that your family had planned. You were in the midst of preparing for the evening when Sukuna found you in your shared bedroom. You watched him as he admired your form, his energy swirling into admiration and lust.

“My family is having dinner tonight, all of our clan will be there”, you whispered as you pinned your hair up, a soft smile aimed towards him as you used the reflection from the glass to look at your appearance. 

Sukuna stepped closer, his presence radiating a mix of curiosity and subtle tension.

“I’ve been tracking down some unusual residual energy,” he murmured, his voice soft as he placed another kiss on your shoulder. “I've followed it to a village in the outskirts of the clan lands”.

He had been out late the past week tracking down the source of the residuals in your territory, leaving you with Uraume more often than not, and him staying out late as he tried to find the source. You knew his concern was keeping you safe. You had become a target since you married him, but even with the risks, you wouldn't change your position for anything in the world.

“Is there a special occasion?”, he came up behind you, his face burying into the crook of your neck, placing a gentle kiss on the smooth skin. You loved the way he kissed you, it was gentle and full of emotion. It gave you a sense of peace. 

“The celebration of our family name. There’s usually a whole week of celebration, tonight is just dinner”, you smiled up at him, turning your head and meeting his lips in a gentle kiss. “I shouldn’t be back later than midnight” 

He trusted your word, after all, he could sense your energy anywhere but a flicker of worry still lived inside of him. With everything happening in your territories, he felt on edge. 

“I’ll be in the west,” he admitted. He’d grown more comfortable sharing his plans of stealing energy from nearby villages. You had stopped caring, you stopped caring about everything except him and your freedom. Did that make you as immoral as him? Perhaps. Did that make you an accomplice? Maybe. Did you care? No. Not anymore. 

You molded into him, your body fitting perfectly against his even if he was a couple feet taller than you. After your first night together, he’d stopped hiding his true form from you. You admired his body regardless of the state it was in, four arms and all. 

“Take Uraume with you.”, he suggested, more so saying to take her but you shook your head. He needed her more than you did, especially to keep lookout if he got distracted with his visit.

“I think it’d be better if she went with you. I’ll be with my family. You have nothing to worry about, okay?”, you smiled at him, placing a hand on his face and stroking his cheek. Your hands were small on his face but you caressed the skin gently as he leaned into your touch.

"I want her to watch over you.", he forced.

"Kuna, my entire family is made up of sorcerers. I have my technique and so does my father.", you pressed, you wanted him safe too and Uraume was good at keeping him level during his raids.

You also knew you'd be okay, your entire family was made up of sorcerers, capable and strong in their own way. Your family wasn’t massive, but 50 of you would be present tonight, there wasn’t anything for him to worry about. 

After a moment of silence, he let out a small huff of air that he held in his lungs. “If anything feels even the slightest bit off, send for me.”, he breathed as he kissed your hand and you smiled at him. You looked breathtaking. Looked like the most regal thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. His trust in you was unwavering, your soul tie with him made it easy to sense your emotion regardless of what it was or how far he was. If anything went wrong or you were in danger, his body became hyper aware and he would feel it immediately. 

“I will, Ryo.”, you nuzzled him gently, his voice groaning gently as you ran a hand through his hair. “Be careful on your errands.”

His lip twitched at your use of words, pressing his face close to yours as he leaned down to kiss the curve of your neck. “Do you want me to take you?”

“I’ll be okay, Ryo.”, you laughed slightly. “Go on your run. I’ll be here when you get back.”

He hummed slightly, placing a final kiss on your lips, breathing you in as he moved into the other room and calling for Uraume, the both of them leaving as you prepared to head back to your family home. It’d been a few months since you’d last gone home, a part of you anxious on how your family would receive you. Would they welcome you with open arms or would they cast you away in shame? They’d gained their claim thanks to Sukuna, giving them more reputation and power due to their ties with him and thanks to your claim as heir and the reason war hadn’t broken out in the realm. 

You smiled at yourself as you arrived at your home across the territories, taking in a deep breath as your family maids greeted you, welcoming you into your familial home. 

Across the realm, Sukuna and Uraume moved through the woods, crossing the territory until they reached far out of the regular borders. Uraume walked closely behind Sukuna, waiting for him to find the village he had been looking for. It was a village miles from the regular clan territories, filled with a strong amount of energy, but none that could measure up to him. He just wanted to get in, deal with the sorcerers, and absorb the energy then go home to you. The entire journey all he thought of was you.

Your lips, your touch, your skin, your laugh, the way your eyes looked at him with a deep admiration. He’d never believed in a level of admiration like the one you had for him, he didn’t know why your heart called his name but he didn’t want to question whatever being sent you to him. You were all he needed in this realm, everything else was just an afterthought. The sooner tonight was finished, the sooner he could go home to you.

As the both of them approached the edge of the forest, the looked out to see an open field, the village just below them at the bottom of the incline. His eyes narrowed, watching the small pits of fire as they lit up the homes and the walkways. He could see the people moving through the homes, his energy veiled as he kept him and Uraume hidden. He could sense immense energy down below, an energy he couldn’t wait to absorb. Perhaps this energy might be what gave him the ultimate leverage to continue to gain his claim with ease. Not that it was difficult now, he just preferred leisure when he could regardless of how much he enjoyed prolonging the torture of his vicitms. 

“Let’s go.”

“Sukuna.”, Uraume spoke softly, careful to keep within turn. He paused, humming in response as she continued. “I feel uneasy.”

“Why?”, he muttered. 

“The energy in the atmosphere is different. It has been that way since we left the clan lands.”, she pointed out, Sukuna looking from her back down to the village. 

“It will be fine.”, he pressed. “I have confidence that this will be like any other raid.”

Uraume kept her words silent, watching as the King of Curses moved through the pathway, walking down to the village below. The both of them moved in silence, the energy shifting as his presence became aware to those in the village. He had lifted the veil slightly as to intimate the villagers below. Silence filled the air, the atmosphere filled with an eeriness, the fire manipulated until it huffed out and cast the village into darkness. The voices below had scattered, winding down into nothing as the quiet cascaded through the paths of the road. The intimidating energy sending chills down the spines of every person in proximity, slowly adding to the psychological torture of knowing their impending doom would soon come for them. 

The darkness flooded every sense into overdrive, Sukuna’s presence casting a spell of despair and horror over every person he could sense as he approached the village. He was close enough to make the atmosphere feel overwhelmed with his energy, applying pressure to the sorcerers to come out and meet him face to face. The oppressive pressure intensified. It was as though the very atmosphere had become a living entity, reacting to his presence with an almost sentient fear. 

The village had a strange eeriness to it, a stillness that prickled at Sukuna’s senses. His intuition told him there was something off about the entire situation, every life force within the village that he had sensed earlier just…. Disappeared. 

Uraume stood a few paces away, also sensing the strange shift in the air. Her eyes were sharp and alert, scanning around their surroundings with growing unease. There was something hidden in the depths of the town, something she couldn’t quite place. 

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his energy whirling in a controlled, explosive surge of cursed energy that rippled outward, an intentional motion to flush out any hidden beings. The ground trembles under the force, the wave of energy sweeping through the village. Sukuna examined the abandoned homes, the emptiness making his observant as he narrowed his eyes. 

It was then that he felt it–a subtle shift of energy behind him, a well hidden energy that quickly appeared out of the shadows, surging a powerful hit of cursed energy towards him as the air filled with thick tension. His reflexes allowed him to spin around, blocking the brutal ambush from the sorcerer who appeared from the shadows. They were cloaked in dark robes, wielding a deadly array of cursed weapons, their energy malevolent and potent, ready to kill. They moved quick, almost like a high-speed projectile as the cursed energy swirled into a deadly manifestation and aimed directly at Sukuna. 

His response was immediate, moving out of the way with speed as he avoided the attack. The sorcerer slammed to the ground, their energy radiating off of them in waves as they stood still, focused on the monster in front of them. The energy created a violent explosion that sent pieces of the village ground flying in all directions. It just showed the level of power this sorcerer had. 

From the periphery, Sukuna watched as more sorcerers emerged, their faces hidden behind masks as they circled around him in precision and patience. They had mastered hiding their energy long enough that Sukuna couldn’t sense their presence even so close in proximity to the village. All at once, like they had prepared for this very moment, their combined cursed energy manifested into a formidable assault. Cursed spirits, grotesque and ominous, surged forward, their twisted forms manifested with the intent to kill the King of Curses.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, flickering to the main sorcerer who had attacked him first. They were already summoning another attack, a vortex of palpable energy that was meant to injure him to some extent. With an overwhelming surge, Sukuna unleashed a counterstrike, a power wave of cursed energy that collided with the sorcerer’s vortex, shattering it into fragments of nothing. The force sent the sorcerer flying back before Sukuna turned and exorcized the other cursed spirits and evaporated them into nothing. 

This energy felt… familiar.

The village has become a battlefield, Sukuna looking around for Uraume only to find her also under the ambush of six other sorcerers while twelve dealt with him. His jaw tightened. These damned sorcerers were relentless in their attacks. Using their curses to create more energy, alla attempting to make a hit at him. Each time he destroyed their energy, another persisted. The leader began to build another surge of energy, sending a direct hit at Sukuna, forcing him to move out of the way, forcing him to another spot where a sorcerer with a cursed weapon managed to slice his arm open.

A hiss escaped his mouth. There was something off about these sorcerers. They weren’t just attacking him; they were trying to contain him to one place, force him into a corner where they could have the best chance to make a direct hit at him. His cursed energy surged in a torrent of raw power, obliterating another shot of cursed energy with a deafening explosion. He growled in frustration, his eyes focused on getting a hold of the leader of these low life sorcerers. 

Sukuna continued to manifest his energy, a strange tug in his gut persistent as he released his energy and sent it towards the sorcerers. The village’s silence was no longer just eerie; it was a telltale sign of something more ominous. The sorcerers’ coordinated efforts and the relentless attacks were part of something bigger than what was in front of him. 

Sukuna’s focus remained sharp, pushing through the sorcerer’s defenses and pushing them back as they tried to collectively attack him once again. Tired of the back and forth, he released a cataclysmic wave of cursed energy that shattered all existing energy from the sorcerers around him, sending the sorcerers flying as they slammed into the ground. The destructive wave swept through the village leaving devastation in its wake. 

He watched the bodies of the group unconscious on the ground, some of the sorcerers still trying to move as he sliced his hand through the air, causing their heads to roll off of their bodies as he decapitated them. He saved the leader for last, walking towards him in an overwhelming surge of power, his dominance filling the air and flooding through the leader’s veins in cruel certainty. He would die. 

As Sukuna approached him, he heard a laugh escape from the leader, a grim smile spread across his features as he tried looking up at the King of Curses from his position on the ground. The leader’s laugh filled the silent air as Sukuna stared at him in a bored expression. Just then Sukuna had realized that the leader’s energy had the same residuals as the energy he’d found miles outside his home. It annoyed him to no end that some lowlife thought themselves cocky enough to try and intrude on his home. 

“You’re about to die and yet, you laugh.”, he muttered into the silent air. 

“You think… you think you’ve won, don’t you?”, the leader’s voice was shaky, his grin still wide on his face as Sukuna narrowed his eyes. “King of Curses”

Sukuna’s eyes flared with irritation as he remained focused on the leader, his senses bristling with frustration. “You bore me.”, Sukuna raised his hand to end the leader’s life, halting as his voice rang out again. 

“You see..” the leader’s smile widened, a sinister gleam in his weak eyes. “You fell for it… we knew you’d come here, we set this whole thing up to keep you occupied long enough..”

His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. 

“We knew we couldn’t kill you.”, the leader breathed, “We only needed you distracted long enough to ensure our true objective could be fulfilled.”

Sukuna’s annoyance and rage intensifies, his cursed energy radiating in immense waves. 

“Sukuna”, he heard Uraume speak but ignored her. 

“Speak dog.”, he ordered the leader. “I’ll make your death faster.”

“You’re naive”, the leader smirked. “This entire thing… it was all to misdirect your attention.”

“Sukuna!”, Uraume raised her voice, Sukuna still ignoring her. 

“It’s too late.”, Sukuna had had enough of his cryptic tone, slicing his hand through the air as the leader's head exploded into a pool of brain matter and carnage.

“Insolent pigs.”, he muttered. 

“Sukuna!”, Uraume forced again. Finally, he met her gaze. “What?”, he spit out, his annoyance lacing his tone. 

“Sukuna.”, she breathed. “Y/n’s energy is gone.”

Immediately, his attention snapped to focus. His chest tightened as he felt the sinking realizing sink into his bones, a cold dread gripping at him as he replayed the leader’s words. 

This entire thing… it was all to misdirect your attention.

Without a second thought, Sukuna used the energy he could to bolt himself through the woods, leaving Uraume behind as he ran the miles across the territories to make it to your Family’s home. The air in his lungs burned, the dread sinking into the pit of his stomach, the words replaying over in his head. How could he be careless, how did he release the tie to your energy so easily? Did they truly mean to distract him… to get to you?

His energy coursed through his being as his speed picked up, his legs forcing him to run faster, covering as much ground as possible. He was close, just on the other side of the woods, he’d reach your home soon. 

The outskirts leading to your home were engulfed in billowing black smoke, thick like the clouds and black like the night, only the light from the red flames that engulfed your home illuminated the night as the ground became scorched from the heat. He barely registered the destruction of L/n House before charging into the source of the fire, his body in overdrive as he pushed through the fire and smoke. 

The inferno roared with relentless fury, consuming every part of the structure. Wood crackled and collapsed under the heat, creating a terrifying symphony of destruction. Sukuna wasted no time running into the home, pulling the beams of fire out in order to search for your body. The heat was blistering, and the smoke stung his eyes, but continued his search. His cursed technique flared to life as he attempted to control the spreading flames, his energy twisting through the air in a desperate attempt to contain the fire. Despite his best efforts, the blaze had already claimed every inch of the house, leaving no ground untouched.

The sight of h/c hair caught his eye, throwing pillars across the room, lifting the beams off your body. He lifted your body from the rubble, limp in his arms as your flesh burned from the scorching flames. He pulled you out, laying you down on the ground as he felt the cold touch of your skin on his, the only warmth due to the fire. The sight of your lifeless body was a crushing blow. Desperation took hold of him as he tried to use his cursed energy to stabilize you, his attempts failing. He might’ve been the strongest being to exist in this realm, but he was not healer. He didn’t possess the energy that could help bring you to life. He lifted your body as it lay limp, all source of life having been completely evaporated from you. 

As he knelt beside you, the horrific realization sank into his bones. Your body had been stripped of your cursed energy, your body completely void of any ounce of life. 

The shock sank into his bones, the crashing realization of your lifeless body in his arms sent a jolt of grief through his core. The gravity of your lifeless body in his arms, the absence of your energy, of your presence, overwhelming him. A seething rage, raw and unrestrained, surged through him.

He brought your face into the crook of his neck, gently holding your frame as he breathed in the smell of flesh from your burned body as it was the only thing he could sense that was you. The touch was tender yet haunting, it was the last connection he had left of you. You weren’t completely burned, only a few spots of your body suffered heavy damage, not like your family who were nothing but charred corpses.

Sukuna’s grip tightened as he let the waves of grief radiate off of his body, his cursed energy flaring to life, sending bolts of energy through the realm. 

Almost instantly, through all his unrestrained emotion, he used his cursed energy to pick up the energy around him, soaking in every ounce of tortured emotion he could absorb. He held your body close to his, the only solace he had as he allowed the lingering presence of your essence to flood his being. He let the remnants of your soul show him a fragmented, haunting vision of your last moments, a tapestry of pain and despair interwoven with fleeting glimpses of comfort and warmth.

The energy he absorbed was a mix of raw, turbulent emotions—rage, sorrow, and a hint of peace. Each wave of energy, revealing the intensity of the connection you shared and the impact of your departure on his existence. His grip on your body tightened as if holding onto the very essence of who you were could somehow tether him to the lost fragments of your soul.

As the cursed energy enveloped him, he felt your presence more acutely than ever before. It was as if your soul was whispering secrets through the energy, offering him a glimpse into the unspoken truths and unfulfilled promises that had lingered between you. This communion, though bittersweet and painful, became a source of both anguish and comfort, helping him find a semblance of clarity amid the chaos of his emotions.

What was the sound?

Why did your head feel hazy? 

“This is a private dinner, please leave.”, you heard one of the maids by the front door say softly before you felt a sharp jolt of pain in your side. Why did you feel so uneasy? 

“Sir, please.”, the maid insisted, her voice growing frantic. You noticed that no one else had taken note of her fear, unsure of why. “Sir. Sir please, wait. No! Stop! STOP!”

The sound of a harsh thud made you snap towards the door. Your energy levels spiking but your head still feeling hazy. You looked down at the cup in front of you, your heart sinking as you looked up at your family, their movements becoming more sluggish. 

The movement you caught in the corner of your eye made you turn towards the entrance that led into the dining room. Tall, muscular men dressed in dark clothing entered the room, their cursed energy swirling as you stared at them in the best focus your mind could allow. They wore masks, covering their face with wooden carved masks that looked like the face of wolves. There were black markings that looked similar to those related to underground thieves that lingered in the far outskirts of the clan lands. 

You watched as one of the kids ran, trying to catch another one of the children as a string hand grabbed the neck of his neck, a loud help sounding out. Still, everyone in the room seemed to not notice, you tried moving your body but you felt locked in place, like your body had entered a type of rigamortis. The sound of a neck snapping and the child’s body being thrown onto the table sounded out, everyone finally snapping and letting the silent haunt the atmosphere. 

One of your aunts let out a shrill of horror, a scream that didn’t even reach its full potential due to the slurring of her cries. Why was everyone slurring, why was everything blurring, why was every movement slowed to a fraction of normal time? And why were these people here? 

You watched as six more men entered, each one wearing their own carved mask as the walked over to your family, kicking them down as the sounds of their please sounded out. 

“What is the meaning of this?!”, you heard your father stand, his body slowly down as he couldn’t find his footing. “Leave our home, now!”, he boomed, his voice holding less power than it normally would. 

His cursed energy was faltering. It wasn’t at the level it would normally be at, it was nowhere near what the L/n name was known for. 

The men walked to your father, meeting his gaze behind the haunting wooden mask. His head tilted sideways slowly, watching him with quiet, dead eyes. It was haunting, the silence and the sound of your aunt's cries at the sight of one of your family’s children lying limp on the table with his neck twisted in a crooked, macabre way. 

You couldn’t move, your chest feeling heavy. You watched as the men grabbed your family members, binding their hands with rope as they dragged them into the center of the room, another man grabbing the bottom of the table and flipping it over. All of the contents spill all over the priceless carpet and beautiful wood of your home. 

You watched as the man continued to hold your father’s gaze, his hand moving to his leg and unsheathing a dagger. Your eyes widened, your mouth opening to warn him before you felt a hand dig into your hair and pull you back, your eyes looking at another one of the men as his face was right next to yours. His silence gave you chills, his head shaking slowly and a finger raising to the snout of the mask in a “shh” motion. 

You looked at him through the side of your eye, the fear slowly showing through. Who are these people?! 

You watched as they grabbed your mother, her cries blurred as they kicked her in the side. You could feel the pain that coursed through her, they kicked her with brute force. Her energy was weak but still spiked in the shock. Your father was also thrown to the ground. His energy wavering finally. 

“The center”, the main man motioned. “Keep those three over there”

You watched as the rest of the children were placed in the back, your aunts and uncles in the center, and you and your parents at the front of the room facing your family. 

Two of the men circled back towards the small children, your family turning and trying to protest hurting them. They were the future of the L/n name. If they disappeared, so did your family. It seemed like the men knew that all too well as they walked over, manifesting their cursed energy and snapping their necks as the walked up to each child. The cries filled the room, your head dropping to keep from looking at the potential life as honorable sorcerers be cut short. 

The feeling of hands tangling into your hair and forcing your head up made you feel ill. The man next to you looked at you deeply. Pointing ahead. 

“Watch”, was all he said in a deep, distorted voice. At Least he sounded distorted due to your body’s senses being weakened. 

Your mother also cried, clenching her eyes shut, but one of the men forced her eyes open, digging his fingers into the skin around her eyes and peeling them apart as she struggled weakly against them. Her thrashes were slow and weak but she insisted on fighting whatever was making her inebriated. 

You wanted to throw up. Why were they doing this? 

Sukuna… 

You wanted to send a signal, wanted to reach him but he was on the complete opposite side of the woods, outside the clan’s territories. There was no way he’d be able to sense you from so far away, especially not when your energy was weak, depleted. 

“L/n”, the leader called in a deep timbre, “Let’s see how long it takes for your cunt of a wife to bleed out” 

You watched as they shoved your mother to the ground, holding her in place as her tears soaked the wood of the floor, your eyes wide and they forced you to watch by holding your head up and a dagger to your throat. 

“If you look away or close your eyes, you’ll die”, the man grabbing you whispered. 

Two other men walked up to your mother, your father yelling at them to stop. One of them pulled out a serrated knife, your gut churning as your eyes stung from the pressure and burning of the shock. No… 

You felt her screams before truly letting them sink into your bones. Her skin ripped open as the men sawed the knife back and forth from the back of her neck. The blood spilling and staining the ground as her body thrashed against their hold. Your body shook from the shock, your chest feeling like you were having a heart attack, the pain you were watching her go through ripped through you. The men only continued to slowly saw at her head, her words distorted and gargled as she choked on her blood. Her hair went from the light brown to a dark, deep maroon, soaking her kimono and drenching the fine carpets into matted fabric. Her body shook, the screams of agony dying out as her body twitched, the knife finally cutting through the bone of her spinal cord and her head falling limp on the ground. They lifted her body and her head laid like a piece of loose skin, barely hanging on by a thread and showing the bone of her spine. 

You watched as your father threw up, his body shaking at the sight of his decapitated wife. You felt yourself go numb, your mind went blank, your heart pounding like it wanted to break out of your chest and let you end the torture they were showcasing. 

You watched as they beat your aunts and uncles with switches, the rips in their skin spilling open as the blood painted their skin a deep vermillion, the agony in their slurred words made it worse. They couldn’t even beg for them to stop without sounding drugged. It made the whole thing worse. It made you feel sick at the torture they’d ensued on your family. The L/n clan was being targeted and you couldn’t even think straight enough to protect them. 

You were the heir, the inheritor of the Eye of Aurora, and you couldn’t even protect your family. How pathetic was that? 

An eternity passed, your energy faltering as you stared blankly at the bodies of your family laying in a pile of torn flesh, crimson blood, and left with no ounce of cursed energy. These men weren’t here to steal energy, you could sense it in the wicked way their souls maneuvered through the room. They were looking to kill every last one of you. 

“Y-you baa-stards”, your father slurred next to you. You tried using your energy to put a protective shield around him. Regardless of how poorly he treated you, you couldn’t take anymore of this torment. You tried using your energy to Ryomen, but the veil cast over your home prevented your energy from leaving. They had planned this attack. That much was obvious. 

“I-I wi-ll ki-kill yo-uu”, he was getting weak. You needed to preserve your energy as best as you could if you wanted to live. It was him or you. 

I’m sorry. 

You let your shield fall, having it envelop your own body as you watched as the men pushed your father to the ground. Your eyes weak, your body twitching from the adrenaline but slow because of the drug. How did they manage to drug your entire family from the inside and not even leave grace of doing so? When did they have the time? You were hyper aware of everything, the clarity in your vision due to your technique showing you just how dangerous the situation you were in was. 

The leader walked towards you, gripping your face in his hand as he pulled out the serrated dagger he used to decapitate your mother. He ran the blade over your cheek, a cut stinging as you felt the small trickle of blood run down your skin. 

“Watch”, he murmured. “Or I’ll kill you too.”

He was going to kill you anyway. You could sense it in his energy and his tone. You truly were trapped no matter what you did, not like you could do anything anyway. Your body was inebriated, everything moving in slow motion and overwhelming you. 

Two of the men held your father down, one pinning his arms and the other his legs as the leader walked over, the wolf mask adding more of a taunting aura. He pulled the knife close to your father’s neck, tracing a line that ripped through the robe, causing your father to shake in fear. You watched numbly, your eyes burning from the tears. 

No…

You flinched as the leader slammed the dagger into your fathers chest, a cough of blood spilling from your fathers mouth as he grunted in pain. The leader tilted his head slowly, using his other hand to cover his hand in blood and wipe it over his wooden mask. Slowly, he carved the knife down your fathers chest and into his abdomen, cutting him open and sticking his hand inside his stomach, pulling his intestines out and pulling back the skin to show his insides. 

You couldn’t contain the scream of horror that escaped your mouth, your eyes drenched from the tears as you struggled against the man holding you back. Your voice turned raw, your throat burning from the choked sobs and the screams of horror. 

Why? 

Why?!

“Why are you doing this?”, your voice slurred. “Why?”

The leader moved towards you, leaving your father with his guts spilled out of his body as he heaved in pain, his eyes filled with a shock and horror you’ve never seen before. God, what kind of karma was this? 

The leader lifted his hand, bringing his blade down but your body manifested enough cursed energy to block his blow, making him tilt his head in humor. He tried again and your body, although weak, held enough cursed energy to block his blows. 

The one holding you stood, trying to aim a hit at the back of your head, your shield keeping the blow from landing. They were trying to beat you to death. You couldn’t. You couldn’t let them. If you held them off long enough, Ryomen would come, he’d kill them and save you. He’d take you so far from this realm that no one would know where you went. You’d cease to exist as Y/n L/n and continue life unknown to another realm. You’d be safe from the torment you were living through. Both you and Ryomen. 

Please, Ryo. 

Where are you? 

You felt another blow hit, your body flinching. Their hits repeated, not letting up. You were vulnerable, weak, exposed. If you used the fear, you’d never run out of cursed energy. You could keep your shield up for as long as you needed. The only thing leaving you unsure was how long until you passed out? How long until the drug took its full effect? 

There was a split second where you believed this would be it for you, your body fighting in the best way that it could given the circumstance. Ryomen would have these men decapitated, gutted, tortured, flayed alive for having ever considered hurting you and yet… 

Your throat was raw, your sobs muffled as you focused on the hits the men were delivering to you repeatedly. You felt weak. How long had it been? How long had they been in your home? How long did they take to snap the necks of the children, to torture your aunts and uncles? How long did it take for your mother to die or your father to stop feeling pain?

How long before you died?

“Bride of Sukuna”

Tears flooded down your cheeks as you stared up at them, the bodies of all your family laying lifeless around you. Your mother limp with her head mere feet from her body, your father completely gutted as his insides lay in a pile next to him, the rest of the L/n clan laying in vats of their own flesh and blood. every tile was covered in the red fluid, staining the pristine floor a crimson maroon. 

“Please, let me go.”, your energy was weak. “Please”

“The Devil’s whore begging for mercy? I wonder what else I can get you to beg for.”, his wicked smile spread across his face, leaving you feeling cold inside. 

“Aren’t you tired yet? We’ve been at this for hours''. They were forcing you to use your technique. Using cursed objects against you, the only way to stop them from slicing your body was to completely manipulate and discard the cursed weapons they tried to use on you. They’d been at it for what felt like hours. 

Hours you believed would be peaceful. 

Hours you believed would be full of celebration and love. 

Hours you spent being drugged, beaten, tortured, and traumatized as you watched the men saw your mothers head off and pin your father to the ground as they cut him open alive, watching your aunts and uncles be tortured and killed, the children having their necks snapped. It was a massacre. Your entire family, every last one part of the L/n bloodline, lay lifeless in pools of blood and carnage. You were the final remaining member. 

Your body was still inebriated from the drug you took to incapacitate you, likely mixed in with the food and water to get inside everyone in your family. Your body was weak, wounded, and you were drained of energy. You didn’t have it in you to continue anymore. 

“Let’s eat that spirit of yours. We hear she’s worth a hefty price”, one of them moved towards you, a prominent tattoo in his hand as he wrapped a hand around your neck, the energy coursing through him reaching high levels of mastery. It overwhelmed you. Everything overwhelmed you at the moment. “I can see why that nasty son of a bitch chose you, you’re a pretty face to look at. I’m sure you were a better fuck than those concubines he kept around.”

“Look at me”, his hand clenched your face. “I want to see the life drain out of your eyes”, you felt a piercing hole in your heart, the agony ripping through you as you felt your soul be completely ripped out of your body. You never felt this type of pain before, it felt like a million daggers ripping through your flesh, the ripping of skin elongated as you choked on your screams. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t release the emotion while you felt the burning sensation of your technique being ripped away from you. Your eyes were forced to look into your killer's eyes, his eyes full of sadistic entertainment. He was enjoying watching the life drain from your eyes. More so, he was enjoying watching the life drain from Sukuna’s wife’s eyes, knowing he’d be the one who destroyed his chance at a lineage. 

The only thing you could think of was him at that moment. Your heart called his name, your soul yearning for a final look, a final touch. You begged whatever higher being to bring him to you and save you from this torment. You felt it in the marrow of your bones that you would die here tonight, and still you believed he would show up and save you like he’d always done in the past. The quick flash of memories burned into your brain showed themselves then, every training, every secret meeting, every gentle touch and stolen kiss, every night in his bed, every moment in his arms while he breathed in your scent, every intimate night burned into your existence. You loved him in every way that existed, in every way you knew how, with every part of your being. As your life drained completely, you begged for one more touch, one more sacred moment with him in the intimacy of your bedroom, one more glance into your future with him before your soul would be expelled from this life forever.

Your field of dreams engulfed in fire and burned into ash, the arson’s match burning your future into nothing.

Ryo…

Your once e/c eyes had faded into black hues of emptiness. 

“I’m finished. What a shame such a pretty face is being wasted on an ugly bastard like him”, the man muttered before throwing your body to the ground, your head against the ground as the red blood stained the beautiful white gown you wore, staining it and leaving it marked in warning. 

“Let’s go. We’re done here.” 

The ground trembled, the earth cracking and splitting as his anger and despair erupted. There were waves of excruciatingly powerful energy rippling off of him. The echoes of his rage-filled screams cut through the silence, a haunting sound that reverberated through the night. He consumed the energy around him, letting the cruel reality of your fate burn into his consciousness, the final thoughts of his beloved engraved into his brain like a tattoo on flesh. 

He felt his body grow heavy from what he could only place as despair, denial, and grief. 

Of all the cursed energies that existed, the demons that tried to overcome him, the possession of power, nothing left him weak like your corpse in his arms. No curse, no rival, no force in the world ever got close to bringing him to his knees like this. You, a kind hearted and gifted sorcerer, brought the King of Curses to his knees, leaving him absolutely powerless. Your lifelessness shattered the illusion of invincibility he believed he had, there was one way to destroy him and it was you. 

Your body was limp, your head rolling against his chest as he tried to get you up right. Two of his arms held you as the other lifted your head, the hollow of your irises losing him in an immense amount of grief. A part of him wanted to believe that if he held you carefully enough, he could somehow resurrect the essence that had been torn away. They’d sucked the life right out of you, ripped your soul apart all because you were his bride. His forehead rested against yours, asking for forgiveness for having cursed you. 

He held your body in his arms, holding you close to his chest as his face buried into the curve of your neck, breathing you in. His hands trembled as they held you, his energy radiating off of him in waves of despair and denial. Your delicate body, tainted by those who sought to kill him, damned by the evil in this realm. You were everything he believed and everything he breathed, your soul meant for him in every way he couldn’t understand and here your body lay in lifelessness while he remained alive. What beings damned him in such a way where his wickedness managed to live and your purity was exorcized from the world. 

Was this his punishment? 

Was this his hell for having cursed the realm? 

He knew you would be angry with him for thinking such things. If you could see him you’d probably kiss him, tell him it wasn’t his fault. his hand lashed back your hair, taking in the beautiful way you dressed for your family dinner. He memorized every piece of your body. your face, not looking into your eyes since he knew they’d haunt him for the rest of his life. 

He let immense waves of cursed energy radiate off his body, causing a ripple effect of everything getting caught on fire or exploding. He felt his body surge with insurmountable grief, his screams echoing through the woods as the ground vibrated from his despair. The sound left a haunting cast over the air, his howls of agony heard from every inch of the realm. 

Losing you was his greatest weakness, the wound that would never heal, an emptiness making his energy spiral into bigger waves of grief. His body lifted yours, his mind blank and emotionless as he let the waves of anger and denial purge the life around him. His energy made the flames that burned your home bigger, the smoke billowing into dark black clouds that tainted the air causing the surrounding wildlife to flee from the natural disaster he’d created. 

The black char that created a ring burned into the ground around your family’s territory was embedded so deep into the ground that the soil began to rot and the energy was far from being salvaged. He’d embedded his energy so far deep into the roots of the ground that even the sorcerers a millennium from now would be able to recognize the patterns scorched into the soil. 

There was nothing that tainted his soul quite as much as letting you go to your family home alone. The regret burned his flesh like a pain he couldn’t extinguish, a wound carved so far deep inside of him he’d never heal from it. His heart felt like it stopped pumping blood through his veins, the hollow of his body making him a shell filled with remorse, grief, and agony. 

The humanity in him had snapped. Just like you were stolen from him, that final shred had died with you, leaving him an empty shell of a man. What else did he have to lose? He’d spend the years wandering through the realm building his empire to do right by you. 

He’d do anything you asked of him. 

Even in death. 

Even if it meant starting with those who wronged you first. 

The smoke signals were sent as warning to the other three families, rallying them to scout the L/n territory. The radiating waves of energy had been sent so far into the territories, that all three families had gathered their men, sending a group to scout out and another group ready for any attack that might happen. The Zen’in clan was the first to arrive, looking over to see the billowing black smoke consume the night sky with its pitch darkness. 

Upon arrival to the cliff overlooking the land, every scout stood in wide eyed horror at the scene in front of them. Every inch of territory under the L/n name was scorched, leaving nothing but a massive black charred imprint in the ground. Miles and miles of forest and homes burnt to a crisp, leaving nothing behind but remnants of history burnt into the ground. The house was destroyed, the flames burning as the black char was embedded so far into the soil that not even years of caring after it would revive it to its original state. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and burning wood, the intensity of the flames ravaging the land around them. The sky had gotten darker, adding to the haunting scene in front of them. Proof that L/n House had been burned into nothing.

The murmurs between the men had started to raise up during the onslaught of shock, all of them walking down to the scene to find charred bodies, skulls with burnt flesh, the air filling with the smell of burning bodies, leaving one who stood amongst them with a solid resolve. Zetsubou Zen’in turned towards the men, the Kamo and Gojo men finally arriving at the scene as they took in the scene below. He raised his voice through the night, his firm tone solidifying his words. 

“You see what happens to great names when they trust the words of a bastard? The words of a monster!”, he raised his voice. “There is no doubt Ryomen Sukuna burned the L/n to hell. Look at the damnation they brought on themselves!”

The men listened to the Zen’in heir, his words filled with hatred and dripping with venom. “Men, go back to your clans, tell them we need to exterminate him, we need men to bring Sukuna to an indefinite end.”

The men whispered amongst each other, still showing a level of uncertainty in Zetsubou’s words. The Zen’in heir needed to have the two families on his side, needed reason to go after and kill the King of Curses. Zetsubou spotted a seal on the ground, it was one with your family crest upon it. 

“What more proof do we need, men? Look at his work, he’s eradicated them!”, he forced, holding the seal towards them. “The L/n’s knew this would be their end, yet they chose hell. He killed them all, killed Y/n!”

The tension filled the air as Zetsubou said his final words. “Stand as men of power. Do not let Y/n’s death be in vain.”

The evidence was in front of them, the burning flesh, the charred forest floor, the collapsed home of one of the greatest families in the realm, there was no denying the blatant truth. Ryomen Sukuna had killed the L/n family, burning their home to a crisp and leaving nothing but burned bodies and broken debris. The Princess of Peace was torn apart and burned to nothing by the King of Curses. The men of the families murmured in agreement, solidifying their decision in taking the warning back to their individual leaders. 

In the coming hours, the leaders of the Zen’in, Gojo, and Kamo clans had called an immediate emergency council meeting, taking into account the evidence before them and trying to grasp the gravity of what had transpired. What had driven the King of Curses to kill his bride’s entire family and her in the process? What was the meaning behind such a catastrophic and gruesome display of power?

The Three Families agreed to come together in power, combining forces to set after the King of Curses and exorcize him from the realm for good. Their search for him spanned over weeks, his disappearance leaving a haunting overcast on the realm and the families as their sorcerers would set out after him, but many of them would never return back home. 

The eradication of the L/n clan led to the inevitable silence of the jujutsu world, the cloak of darkness absorbing every land in sight for centuries to come. The world felt cold, empty, and ominous. Every sorcerer felt the grief and rage burning through the ground at the ripple of sukuna’s overwhelming emotion. 

Due to his domain, he closed off the territory completely, creating a shield that would leave the remnants of the land completely closed off and cursed to anyone who wasn’t part of the L/n bloodline. It left a black border outlining the entirety of the L/n territory. The remaining three families had no choice but to erase the L/n name entirely from records, only leaving the fragmented whispers of their clan before ending it with the wrath of the King of Curses. 

The aftermath of the Burning of Aurora led to what would be considered the Dark Age of the Heian era. The once-vibrant land of the L/n clan, now a wasteland, became a haunting reminder of the King of Curses' boundless grief and rage. The relentless, all-consuming flames had not only eradicated the physical existence of the clan but also left an emotional scar that reverberated through the ages. Sukuna had gone rampant, destroying every village he encountered and completely destroying them as a way to seek revenge on those who’d killed his beloved. He tore through the lives of sorcerers across the realm with no hesitation or remorse in the cruelty he showed. He killed countless people, both sorcerers and regular people, innocent and guilty in every aspect. No amount of bloodshed would make up for the death of his beloved, nothing would be sufficient enough to heal that wound. His howls of pain echoed so far through the realm they had embedded themselves into the memory of every sorcerer, leaving a haunting sensation, knowing they would be next once he arrived at their homes. 

In the midst of his rampage, the Zen’in family had taken a direct hit to their lineage, the rightful heir being forced under the hand of the King of Curses. There was a cruel reality that was erased by the Zen’in when records of the Dark Age were scribed into the scrolls to be passed down, the reason behind Zetsubou Zen’in’s death. Sukuna had encountered the heir in a fight during one of his raids, having killed all of his men, leaving only Zetsubou standing. There was an undeniable energy that swirled between the two sorcerers, the man who tried to marry his bride standing before him in cocky confidence, his anger whirling inside of his as he continued to attack the bastard. 

Zetsubou knew he had the power to manifest the Zen’in clan’s Mahoraga with his Ten Shadows technique, but his call for the powerful spirit would never happen as Sukuna sliced his arm off his body. Zetsubou had his anger, his hatred dripping from his words as he taunted the King of Curses, damning him to hell as Sukuna stared at him with bored, soulless eyes. 

Sukuna allowed the bastard to speak, the cruel reality causing Sukuna to burn with an anger that would destroy the entirety of the realm. As Zetsubou lay bleeding out, accepting his death, his final words reached the ears of the very monster that would end his life. 

He had outsourced and hired those sorcerers to distract him, he had called the hit on L/n House, claiming it to be his way to exact his revenge for having everything stolen from him. If he couldn’t have you, the ugly bastard Sukuna wouldn’t have you either. The eradication of the L/n Clan, the blood spilled, it all painted the hands of Zetsubou Zen’in. 

This was the hidden secret of the Zen’in clan, the final undeniable truth dying when Sukuna elongated Zetsubou’s death, torturing him in his last moments as he flayed him alive, ripping his skin apart before forcing his energy to crush in his skull. There were no records of the truth, not even those within the Zen’in were aware of the cruel heir’s ploy to eradicate the L/n clan. Zetsubou had been able to place the blame on Sukuna, casting him as the stain on the realm that erased an entire family from the world of Jujutsu sorcery. The realm believed his lies due to their fear of the merciless King of Curses. 

The darkness spread throughout the realm after the revelation that had been revealed to him, casting every human being and sorcerer into darkness and leaving a stain on the jujutsu world forever. 

They say the effects of his rampage caused the death of 10% of the known jujutsu sorcerers at the time, leaving an imprint on jujutsu history as the world knows it, almost tipping the balance of power within the realm. This period was marked with an overwhelming, inhuman level of chaos, the jujutsu realm struggling to grasp the effects of Sukuna’s wrath. This gained him more power, more strength, and ended with him having no morality as his only reason for human emotion disappeared along with his bride. 

Even now the land remains cursed, encased in an impenetrable barrier of cursed energy.  leaving hope for a future holder to come through and claim the land so long as they held L/n blood. It left Sukuna a sliver of chance that one day his beloved could return, reincarnated if he searched for her soul long enough. The thought of her second bringing was a bittersweet solace, a potential chance to reunite with her soul, even if it was through the rebirth of another. 

Even if it was a millennium from now. 

In the midst of his unyielding rage, he found a moment of tenderness to spare. Sukuna buried her in the open field where they used to train together, saving what he could of her family’s ancestral crest and heirlooms ensuring her spirit could cross into the next life in peace. 

This was his last act of humanity before his soul turned completely black and disappeared from the realm. 

His last act was one of love towards his late bride, that fragment of his soul forever lost and never seen again. 

Epilogue || Present Day

“Yuji, what are you doing? Why are you crying?”

“Huh?”, Yuji snapped out of his trance, lifting a trembling hand up to his cheeks to feel the small line where the tears had fallen. “What was that?” he whispered to himself, looking out to the empty space in the woods, a black imprint in the ground that spanned for miles.The sight before him—a massive, burned imprint left by the unrelenting force of destruction—overwhelmed him. 

Sukuna did this…

“Are you okay?” Yuji felt his heart skip a beat at the sudden realization that crashed over him, suddenly becoming aware of why his body, or rather Sukuna, brought him here. Suddenly, he felt a pang of agony in his chest, an overwhelming rush of emotion as he choked on his words. The intense grief and anguish he was experiencing were not solely his own; they were a flood of emotions tied to Sukuna’s past.

Yuji stared at you in shock and at a loss for words, your bright eyes meeting him in a worried stare. Your eyes reflected the same warmth and kindness that had been present in the memories Sukuna had shown him. 

“Y/n Sensei…”, your head cocked at his sentence, wondering why his eyes were red and his cheeks were tear stained. Another flood of emotion overcame him, the thoughts of another flooding his mind as he tried to come to terms with what Sukuna showcased to him. The way he treated her… treated you. Had everything he’d been told… been a lie?

“What’s wrong Yuji?”, your voice was soft, gentle, it sounded exactly like the one in Sukuna’s memories, it was so…. familiar, it almost made Yuji’s heart ache. Your eyes looking at him the same way they had at Sukuna all those centuries ago. They held the same softness and curiosity, an empathy that could make anyone feel safe with you. The way you looked at him mirrored the way Sukuna had looked at you throughout his years in his past life: full of love and longing. 

“I .... “ he hesitated, trying to wrap his mind around the emotion whirling inside of him that didn’t belong to him. “Nothing. I was just lost in thought.”

“Well c'mon! We have to get back to Satoru before he leaves us stranded here”, you said, a bright smile on your face. You turned and walked away towards the main road, his eyes following your form as you smiled up at a small butterfly that flew close to your face. 

Yuji watched you with a mix of awe and a deep understanding. In that moment, he felt a profound sense of revival, content, and an overwhelming pull towards you. Almost like Sukuna was forcing him to reach you. 

Go Yuji Itadori. a deep voice echoed in his head. Take me to her.

A/N:

Ahhhh!! Here is the final part of Love of My Life!!

This has probably been one of my absolute favorite fanfics to write and it was nice being able to experiment with my writing a bit more with darker themes! I truly do hope you all enjoyed this and I appreciate all the love and support you guys have given this mini series.

I highly suggest listening to House in Nebraska, Ptolemaea, and Strangers by Ethel Cain, I feel like those three songs gave me so much inspiration in writing this final chapter because I feel like they set the scene so well.

This story does have a bit of an open ending, I am not saying I'll create a spin-off, but I will consider one-shots that are inspired by this series!

I do also have a Jason Todd x Reader fanfiction called Playing With Fire, so if you like DC and Jason Todd I would highly recommend!

Anyway, once again, thank you guys so much for the love and support and please leave all your comments below!

[ladydeath-vanserra]

I'm a fan of the philosophy of 'the devil you know" when it comes to stressful circumstances. bec no matter how miserable u are right now it can always, always be worse

and while it definitely has its downfalls, it has given me a degree of safety to be able to maneuver and navigate around difficult situations

Lucien going to take Feyre back to the Spring Court, imo, wasn't handled well in the books and it sure wasn't handled well in the Fandom

yes. he was going to take her back to the Spring Court where Tamlin was abusive. Rhys is Still abusive, but that's not the point rn for this. What Is, is that what happened UtM was not that long ago

Tamlin and Lucien both had to sit there and watch Rhys sexually assault Feyre for Months. Rhys left a dead, mutilated fae in Tamlins fountain with the night court insignia on them. Rhys has reputation that has been built up for Centuries of being this cruel and capricious faerie high lord who gets his kicks from harming and torturing people and that's not even including the 49 year reign of terror from Amarantha w Rhys at her side OR the vendetta between Rhys and Tamlin

Lucien, Tamlins subject, was likely ordered to bring Feyre back. It isn't "I'm going to bring back my besties wife" it's "this is a direct order from the High Lord of the Spring Court", which Feyre was a Citizen of

both Lucien and Tamlin watched Feyre being abused by Rhys for MONTHS in front of them. so while YES, Tamlin was abusive, Rhys was evil incarnate UtM to Feyre, to Lucien and to Tamlin. why Wouldn't they think she was being mind controlled and tortured and abused by Rhysand after watching her be drugged and sexually assaulted for months on end UtM

[chaoticbardlady99]

Lethal Woman- Chapter 6 (GN! AFAB! Reader x Astarion) 18+ MDNI

Author note- work has kicked my ass left right and center. I also deleted my draft of this chapter like three separate times until I finally wrote something I loved.

CW- mentions of still birth, mentions of miscarriage, smut, fluff (I think? Any emotional intimacy is fluff to me 💀), mentions of torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence. (I think that may be all? Also this all looks not awesome, but I promise it’s a lot more awesome than you think and not Uber grotesque.)

It’s been mostly edited and I definitely have chapter 7 basically done so I’m anticipating being happy with my draft by Sunday. Happy reading! Thank you for everyone who likes my little self indulgent angst fic!!!!

Also- please remember I take creative liberties. A good chunk of the Nightmasks are dead canonically (RIP my guys) but for the purpose of this story, they are alive. Oh and the names are hard so forgive me for the lack of consistent spelling lmao

Chapter 7

“Ugly, wretched little thing.”

Dahlia’s term of endearment sticks to your brain like- well- an illithid parasite. You are sitting with Karlach and Shadowheart, each of you on your fourth glass of whatever alcohol you could find as the Tieflings jovially celebrate around you. You want to feel the same warmth and happiness everyone else does, but you are too busy trying to ignore the fact that Alfira and Astarion have been talking since the beginning of the party- Alfira immediately walking up to him with her stupid, beautiful face. And her stupid kind heart and pretty voice.

You liked her enough to be her friend, but now? You are struggling not to haul her off by her horns and kick her into the river in the stinking Owlbear den.

Get yourself together Rowan, it was never going to happen anyway.

“Soldier, you might want to stop burning a hole through the Bard with your eyes- Astarion can’t tolerate fire remember?,” Karlach jests and you give her a sour look.

You hadn’t really talked to Astarion since earlier in the day when he had come to your aid when Priestess Gut had a firm grip on your mind, then he fought by your side while you freed Halsin. You had split up after that, him going to help Shadowheart and Karlach and you off to support Wyll and Gale’s group. The fight against Dror Ragozlin and his crew of misfits was easy and Lae’zel evidently enjoyed getting to fight next to you for once. You wanted to enjoy the moment with your companions, your victory just in your grasp, but you had been somewhat distracted during the battle because Minthara’s thoughts had been so Gods damn loud.

You appeared to be the only one experiencing this problem- you assumed that she is specifically targeting you for a reason, but you couldn’t figure out why until she showed you a different image than the fight in front of her.

It was you, standing over a drow female in Menzoberranzan. The alley way is dark with her blood dripping into the cobblestone. You could feel Minthara’s rage- you had killed her lover.

You remember that contract now- It was one of the few you had received where it was required that the target be mutilated and you hated every second of it. Minthara was one of the few people who had ever managed to almost catch you, but you had evaded her successfully. The picture changed, she showed you a flash from Shadowheart’s perspective- it’s you and Astarion, talking in hushed voices and close to each other by the fire. The scene is far more intimate than you realized and certainly incriminating. Her voice boomed in your head.

You killed my lover. Now I’m going to kill yours.

A scream pierced the air as Karlach cried out for Shadowheart. You watched in horror as Shadowheart hit the stone wall hard and dropped flat on her face- unmoving. Karlach was at her side within seconds, trying to get her to wake up. Then Karlach pitched forward after a spell hit her. Karlach was screaming in terror at the top of her lungs and rolling around in pain. You stared at the scene for what felt like hours- rigid and mortified- until Minthara caught your attention again.

Minthara showed Astarion- fighting for his life against her as her blade nicked him and cut him superficially. Thankfully he is a lot faster than her, but your feet were moving before your brain had time to process your actions. Your rage is all consuming- every part of your body feels like it’s on fire.

Between the use of Ghost Step and Spider Crawl, you made quick work of sneaking into the battlefield. You waited for an opening- Minthara and Astarion were neck and neck, blow for blow before Minthara managed to break one of his daggers and slam the hilt of her longsword atop of his head.

Astarion stumbled backwards and fell over on his side. You tried to suppress your own nausea as you watched him struggle to get up as Minthara began menacingly moving towards him. The bloodlust in her thoughts- you could taste it on your tongue. Vengeance is in her reach, but you are not the same you when Tessa died. You will be damned if this bitch of a woman was going to torture two of your closest friends and kill the one person who has made your barely beating, locked away heart a little less heavy to carry.

You cast Evard’s Black Tentacles and manipulated them so that one vine grabbed Minthara’s right hand and ripped it away from the left- her long sword fell to the ground. You picked it up as she screamed profanities at you.

You manipulated another to wrap around her throat and it pulled her down on her knees- she faced the bridge with horror on her face as you stalked towards her with your vampiric stare. You watched as she confronted her own mortality with angry tears- her tadpole hurled profanities at you in Elvish, Drow elvish, and Common. You just smiled at her, sweetly, slowly, like you had perfected for years now.

Minthara’s tears were running down her face and she fought against the tentacles as they squeezed tighter around her throat and wrists.

The next words you had spoken in Elvish- “Say hi to your lover for me”- before you cut her head clean off her shoulders with her own weapon.

You hadn’t looked at Astarion after you had killed Minthara- you were actually too afraid to see the way he may look at you. Would he be repulsed by you? Afraid? You didn’t want to know.

So now, instead, you are stuck watching him flirt with the feminine, beautiful tiefling that you want to go and feed to the resurrected harpies (they aren’t resurrected- yet). You know it isn’t her fault- you just never stood a chance.

“Roo, really, he is barely focusing on her,” Shadowheart says with a roll of her eyes, “he keeps looking over here at you anyway.”

“Oh I’m sure he is after I brutally murdered someone in front of him,” you cross your arms, your tone laced in venom, “yeah that’s a real attractive quality to have- I am capable of brutal MURDER.”

Shadowheart goes to protest, but Karlach beats her to it.

“I don’t know Soldier, he looked pretty dazzled to me.”

You bust up laughing, choking on some of your wine.

“Dazzled, you say?”

“Razzle DAZZLED!” Karlach offers big explosive hands with her statement, “and I mean- he’s into blood so it’s not like you beheading something is all that damning. Maybe he’s really into it.”.

You choke on your wine again, this time it comes out of your nose. You are both dying laughing now, evidently the alcohol had gotten to your heads. It wasn’t because you were making fun of him- it was just the whole idea itself was so ridiculous and the fact that you can nonchalantly talk about beheading a person as an endearing prospect with these two individuals is so bizarre. Shadowheart was laughing despite herself.

Eventually the three of you make your way to the firepit and join Halsin and Gale while they smoke something out of Halsin’s pipe. You ask to try it and it burns your throat as you cough harshly. Halsin laughs hardily and says you’ve passed initiation. Shit, you don’t even remember walking over to the campfire anymore.

Another hour or so passes, Astarion is out of sight and the high has worn off. You feel pleased to see Alfira standing and talking to her friend dejectedly. Maybe he rejected her? You might be a terrible person, but you feel like you already knew that.

You feel overwhelmed all of a sudden by the proximity and warmth of everyone around the fire. You wait for the right moment to remove yourself from the situation- desperately needing a moment of peace and quiet.

If anyone notices you get up, they don’t say anything. You quickly steal another bottle of wine from beside Gale and Halsin and sneak off into the woods.

You crack open the bottle and slowly sip on it as you meander through the woods, finding the secret path to the beach that you have come to adore so much. You had been eyeballing one specific cliff edge ever since you and Astarion had found this place. It wasn’t a massive cliff, but the pool at the bottom of it is deep enough for you to jump into the water without injury. It was something your father used to do with you when you were a child. There was a river that ran outside of your little town and as you moved further into the woods, you could find a waterfall with a deep pool at the bottom. He would teach you flips and different jumps. He had deemed you the world’s finest diver right before he died- cheering you on from the ground below.

You feel warm and melancholy from the memory. Gods you miss your parents.

You drop the bottle of wine and strip down to your underwear and make your way towards the top of the waterfall.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had finally managed to get Alfira to leave him alone. She is an adorable little creature, but she is not the one on his radar right now. Adorable does not compare to the vision you are- nor the protection you provide.

Astarion had spent the last painstaking hour and a half watching you laugh with quite literally every person in camp who has a crush on you- Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, and even Halsin is fucking smitten now. Gods could you just stop being yourself for five minutes? Astarion needs (and silently wants) your attention to only be on him. It is absolutely crucial to his survival. Speaking of which, where the hells were you?

You were no longer by the fire where he had last seen you before he snuck into Gale’s tent to steal one of the nicer bottles of wine he hoards away from everyone. Astarion had planned on using your shared connection to ask you to meet him at your spot, but now you are nowhere to be found.

Astarion fights the urge to scream out of frustration as he treks through the woods towards the spot on the beach hoping by some miracle that you may already be there.

Astarion stops as your scent hits his nose. He walks around the corner of the rock that you both use as a landmark and freezes when he notices your clothes are sprawled across the ground and a bottle of wine is a third of the way empty. He tries to ignore the ache that is starting to consume his chest. Did you bring someone else here? Shadowheart maybe? You were sitting rather close to her earlier…

Did his three days of stubbornness really just allow you to fall into someone else’s arms?

Astarion’s sinking feeling gets worse when something flashes out of the corner of his eye.

He sneaks around the corner- reminding himself that he is merely just making sure Shadowheart isn’t being… Shadowheart?

Imagine his shock when Astarion doesn’t see Shadowheart at all. Instead, he witnesses you complete a perfect aerial twist before graciously diving into the waves below. He feels completely frozen until you break the water and laugh wildly. Astarion thinks his own heart might start beating from his chest being filled with the sound.

You jump out of the water and race back up to the top of the rock using Spider Crawl- something you had promised to teach him when you found out Cazador had never actually made him privy to the entirety of his capabilities as a spawn.

Astarion grins as he watches you once again go flying into the air, doing a backflip before straightening out, disappearing once again into the water below.

You break the surface and get back onto the shore. You pretend to bow and wave saying “thank you” and “I’ll be here all week.” It’s silly and he’s enjoying every minute of watching you just be yourself.

Astarion knows you aren’t a serious person, not really, but you pretending to bow for an imaginary crowd of adoring fans in a (not) private moment? It feels authentic to your silliness- not just when you and Karlach are joking together.

You are funny, kind, and entirely too cunning- despite what he said three days ago. Your prowess in combat is second to none and you speak a couple different languages- infernal being one of them when he noticed you and Karlach speaking it back and forth like it was also your native tongue.

Elvish is the other one and he only knew that from overhearing what you said to Minthara while he was too busy experiencing shell shock from how quickly you had gotten over to him. Oh and the hit to the head didn’t help either.

Astarion’s thoughts are interrupted when you make eye contact with him and freeze.

You look down at your semi-exposed figure and then up at him.

Astarion flashes you a flirtatious grin and sweeps his eyes up and down your body as you look at him. You are a work of art and the blush that creeps up your neck is an added bonus.

The scars on your body are numerous and varying in degrees of severity. It doesn’t make you any less attractive to him or revolts him by any means; It makes you more real if anything.

“Well hello there, beautiful,” Astarion says melodically as you walk over, “I was hoping I might run into you here.”

“Oh is that so?” you say and put your hands on your hips, teasing him “and to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Astarion smiles widely at you. He holds up the bottle of wine.

“I was hoping I may be able to drink with my most favorite companion at camp,” he looks at you with a sly grin, “but I didn’t think I’d be getting a show. You are delightfully talented in multiple faucets, Darling.”

You smile shyly at him while adorably scrunching your nose.

As you bend down to grab your shirt, you look at your bottle and scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“I might need to apologize considering I already started without you.”

Not telling me to piss off so that’s an optimistic start.

“Hm,” Astarion hums, cracking open his bottle and taking a drink, “I’ll allow it this once. I suppose I do owe you for my… words the other day.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you say with a mischievous grin, “but for a price.”

“Oh?” Astarion purrs, “and what is your price, my dear.”

“I demand at least half of your spoils in loot.” you say with flourish and over exaggeration- you aren’t even remotely serious.

“No, no, no, “he emphasizes, his finger waving around in the air, “Never. Going. To. Happen.”

“Ugh fine, I guess I’ll just have to accept that you saved my life earlier.”

“I still think you are ahead on that front, but who’s counting really?”

“Definitely not me,” you say and cough a number under your breath.

Astarion playfully glares at you and you giggle in response.

You close the gap between the two of you and gently grab his hand, pulling him to sit down next to you at the edge of the water. Astarion pushes down the giddy feeling that arises- hoping you didn’t notice he flinched when you first went to grab his hand.

You look at Astarion and then your clasped hands- you definitely noticed.

You begin to pull away and he feels his body protest, grabbing your hand back and interlocking them again. Astarion drinks out of his wine, refusing to look at you- this is entirely too intimate. Entirely too much like the lovers he used to hate and envy in Baldur’s Gate, but he can’t bring himself to let go or stop the slight smile that creeps on his lips.

You drink out of your bottle of wine and put your feet in the water. Astarion glances at you and notes the growing grin. He feels a twinge of guilt when he thinks about his plan and how fragile your heart probably is. Astarion pushes it away. Astarion needs his plan to work and so far, it’s working.

The space between the two of you is silent- nothing but the ocean waves roaring in his ears. It’s not uncomfortable, but Astarion doesn’t necessarily know where to start. He wants to begin the process of seducing you, but he’s also unsure of how well that would play out- considering what he’s seen thus far in your memories.

“My dad taught me how to cliff dive,” you say in a melancholic voice, interrupting his thoughts “we would go all the time over the Summer when we lived outside of Daggerford.”

“I was wondering how you had managed to pull off such an impressive feat.”

You guffaw at him and then pout with a glint of humor in your eye. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Fine Darling,” he muses, “I suppose you are rather impressive in all facets.”

Your face is practically burning with his compliment. Astarion has decided he will leave out the bait and let you take it. If you give him any signal or specifically say “I want to have sex” then Astarion will pleasure you and you will see how useful he can be in return for all of your gifts- your blood, your protection.

Your company.

Whatever feelings Astarion felt over the last three days- he never wants to feel again. You have been the one and only person to be kind to him, protect him in 200 years. You treat him with respect and like a friend- not the monster he absolutely is and that you should hate him for being. It had been a very lonely three days without your company-besides, no one else is nearly as fun to converse with. Astarion hears the whisper of a previous conversation in the back of his mind.

“So what does boar taste like?”

“I don’t really have much of a reference, but better than rats and flies,” he scowled.

“Gods, how filthy was that palace?” you murmured under your breath.

Your comment had caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but bark out laughing. You had felt horrible for it- you thought he wouldn’t be able to hear you. In your defense, you had spoken very quietly. Astarion assured you that he found your observation quite peculiar and hilarious.

Astarion likes that you point out the small things and allow him to decide how much of the larger things he wants to tell you. You never push him and Astarion isn’t used to it, but he knows he never wants it to go away- to be treated any other way ever again.

“What else did your father teach you?” Astarion asks softly.

You smile, “My father followed Ilmater. He was a ranger. He dedicated his life to helping others.”

A daughter of Ilmater worshippers turned into a half-dead creature who is forced to kill by an evil vampire, Astarion thinks, I guess even the Gods have a sense of humor.

“What happened to him?”

The pause is pregnant and loud. Astarion notices the single tear that manages to escape your eyes. You clear your throat.

“He’s dead,” you whisper, “a group of Ravagers destroyed our village. They didn’t like that it was a mix of humans and Drows escaping from Lolth- and they especially hated us ‘filthy half breeds’. Made the women and the children watch as they beheaded their fathers and husbands.”

Astarion doesn’t know what to say to something that horrific. He just merely looks at you- waiting for you to continue speaking.

“He just kept telling my mom and I how much he loved us. How he’d always be protecting us,” you manage to choke out, “I can’t even tell you how many times I have prayed to Ilmater for help- only to be reminded how alone I am and that, despite being the God of Compassion, Ilmater doesn’t care.”

Astarion knows that feeling all too intimately, but he wants to hear more.

“How old were you? What happened to you and your mother?”

You are looking at him wearily now, so he gives your hand a squeeze.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Darling.”

“I want to, I’ve just never talked about it before.”

“Well then,” he states in a flattered tone, “I’m honored to potentially be the first and only keeper of your deep, dark secrets.”

You laugh breathily while you roll your eyes at him. The smile on your face is replaced by an unreadable expression. You take a deep breath before you turn your gaze back to the ocean.

“I was 5. They sold us to a mine outside of Westgate. It was run by a group of fanatics that I can’t even remember the name of anymore,” you shake your head in disgust, “all I knew was that they were terrible people. They threatened us children to get our mothers to do anything they wanted. One of them raped my mother and ‘blessed’ her with a child.”

Astarion squeezes your hand as he feels you tense. You look at him with your teary, angry eyes and the intensity of your emotions- your grief- are written into every crack and crevice of your face. Astarion notes that you look uncomfortable, but he gives you a soft smile, encouraging you to continue. You take a big swig of your wine- he shortly follows.

“I don’t know what happened, but the baby… didn’t make it and mom developed a blood illness. It was the week before she had planned on breaking us out. I didn’t know she was dying- she told me she was going to be okay. I should have known- She gave me everything for the escape and had explained the plan to me so many times in that week she was dying that I can still recite it to this day.”

You chuckle to yourself before pulling your knees up to your chest.

“I asked them if I could have a funeral for her. They took me outside and made me watch while the pigs ate her. They told me that’s the only funeral a Drow deserves.”

“What a bunch of racist assholes,” he states.

“Oh, they were only the biggest.”

“You escaped a prison by yourself then or?”

“I did. I was 9 years old and probably one of the only people who has ever escaped that mine. I haven’t seen anyone from my village since. I went back to Daggerford one time and it was still decimated- no one ever came back to rebuild it.”

You both sit in the heavy silence. Your thumb begins to absentmindedly rub circles along his thumb- the gesture is simple, but it’s probably the softest touch he’s felt in the last 200 years that was not filled with the anticipation of sex.

“I’ve only ever had one failed escape,” you sigh harshly, “I was going to run away with Tessa because I didn’t want to go through the ceremony to be a Deathbringer, but Dahlia didn’t care what I wanted. She was too busy trying to win Obarhk’s favor.”

“How did you end up with Dahlia then? If you didn’t want to be a Deathbringer?”

You scoff and he sees the resentment behind your eyes.

“I was 13 and had been living on the streets for a while by then. I had my little tent and I had managed to convince one of the local inns to let me clean the rooms,” you scrunched up your nose, “it was gross, but decent work and they fed me once a day; let me use the baths. Sometimes they even gave me extra food and if it was cold out, they’d let me stay in a room if there was one available. I didn’t have to steal food anymore which was nice. I was actually very happy. I was saving my money so I could travel to the Underdark and hire a sword to go with me- to my grandparents- like my mom had told me to do.

“Then one day, a few of the other local boys, also urchins, had watched as I was given a decent amount of gold and a burlap sack of food. They followed me to my tent. I had offered to share and to give them some gold to help, but they didn’t want just some of it- they wanted all of it and all of me too. I thought I was going to die- the fight was brutal and they were so much bigger than I was, but I wasn’t as easy to take down as they had thought.

“Right as they had slammed my head into the pavement, right when I thought it was over- an Ilmater Priestess had appeared out of no where. She had killed them all. She came up to me, was kind to me, promised she would protect me, give me a home, teach me how to be stronger than anything else in the dark while she helps me travel to the Underdark. I was thrilled. I thought Ilmater had finally heard all my prayers. Then she took me outside of the city- I thought we were maybe going to a temple. I was so naive and stupid.”

Your voice breaks and you struggle to compose yourself- taking a shaking breath.

“She changed- the kind Ilmater priestess I had just been following to safety ended up being the Queen of Venom and a Sharran priestess nonetheless,” you spit out with disgust, “Dahlia stripped me of my clothes- she beat me, cut into my skin, threw me around. Dahlia kept telling me how ugly, wretched, small, and weak I was for hours- how she would be the only person to ever love me from now on. Then she chained me down to the floor, unmoving for I don’t even know how long in the dark. I just know when she finally came back, I was on the brink of death. She starved me and refused to give me water until I stopped asking her to leave. I stopped, but then I learnt how much worse it could be. I also began to accept that I would probably never be free again.”

“Are you free now?”

“Barely. A bit over a year ago I was assigned to the Faceless himself.”

“What changed?”

“I won the Deathbringer Tournament and Lady Thistle Thalaver, the fucking consort of all people, said that she wanted me to be assigned as her personal Deathbringer. Thistle made the point that we are close in age and it would make her happy to have someone she can talk to and protect her. News flash- I was more horrified by that than Dahlia. How the fuck does someone who is a literal husk of a person become the prize comfort pet of the Consort that is the reason you were even kidnapped to begin with,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration, “Dahlia hated her. She was envious of her already and boy, when Thistle asked for me? I thought Dahlia might kill me and Thistle right there if Obarhk hadn’t stepped in.”

“She sounds like a sore loser.”

“ Oh she is, this grudge has lasted a little over a century or three supposedly. I can’t ever seem to get the exact date right, but Dahlia had allowed Obarhk to change her and became one of his Nightmasters because she had hoped to be his Queen and consort,” you shake your head, “it was childish- supposedly. Obarhk was going to go through with it initially, but then Thistle’s father had extensive debts to the guild and offered his only daughter as payment.”

“What a shitty father.”

“Oh the shittiest,” you agree pointedly.

“If she wanted you to help her gain his favor, why did she hide you away?”

“There are rules within the Guild for how recruits are to be treated. Obarhk plays with his cards very close to his chest and he has an absurd amount of political pull. He doesn’t want word getting out that the Nightmasks beat their assassin’s and thieves, but not their Deathbringers- it’s bad for recruitment. Guess they used to do that and damn near went extinct, not everyone is into becoming half-vampire” you shrug, “Dahlia had ‘presented’ me to gain Obarhk’s favor- not his consort’s. She lied and said I sought her out days ago, begging to get a chance to become a Deathbringer. When I was asked if it was true, I said yes, the alternative was whatever hell awaited me later. At least if I didn’t survive the ceremony, I would be laid to rest.

“Except Thistle won. Obarhk may not be particularly loving towards Thistle, but he won’t deny her what she wants if it’s reasonable. I was still under Dahlia, but now if I disappeared for days on end or came back beaten, it was noticed. A year ago, Lucia and Ghost found me bleeding out in a street with Dahlia over me- it was the first time she had done serious harm to me since the ceremony and the first time she was caught,” he watches you smile despite yourself, “Thistle wanted her to be tortured for what she had done- for creating the infamous ‘Hollow Deathbringer’ as I was called when I first started, but Obarhk doesn’t interfere with religious affairs and Dahlia claimed it was for her Sharran worship. So the solution was that I would report directly to him, Phultan, Lucia, and Lady Thalaver only. If Dahlia attempts to hurt me again, I am allowed to end her life and if I attempt to attack Dahlia, she is allowed to end my life. She isn’t allowed to send her assassin’s after me either or there will be consequences. That’s the same day I found out Dahlia had been lying to me- she is Obarhk’s spawn, not a Master Vampire. She never would have been able to get away with half of her threats if I had known, but I’m sure that’s partly why she isolated me from the Guild until I was old enough and skilled enough to compete.

“We’ve been in a very strange stalemate over the last year. Unable to find each other, but I don’t even know if I could kill her anyway. At least, not by myself.”

It was a lot to take in at one time. Your entire world is so heavily influenced by vampiric beings- no wonder you were so nonchalant about him being a spawn and him feeding from you.

Astarion will admit though, he isn’t necessarily thrilled to find out another sociopathic vampire might be hunting them- specifically you.

“Darling, if Dahlia ever darkens your door step ever again,” he leans toward you and speaks his next words with conviction, “I’ll rip her throat out myself.”

You smile at him and squeeze his hand.

“ Thank you Star, but you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t listen to hypocrites- Miss ‘I’m going to put Cazador’s head on a pike and we can parade it around the city’”

You gasp, “how dare you! I felt like that would be a fun leisure activity.”

“Oh believe me, it will be very fun,” he says with a malicious grin,” but someone needs to keep you humble, my dear.”

“Oh okay,” you roll your eyes, “because I’m the one who needs humbling here. Thank you for your service kind sir, I will never be able to repay you.”

He can tell that you are done with the previous conversation- he’ll have to thank you for sharing later and ask follow up questions. Astarion has a plan to execute.

“Well of course,” he lifts your clasped hands and kisses the back of yours, “ I live to be a hero for the common folk.”

“You’re lucky you’re a beautiful bastard.”

“Why thank you, my Dear. I am rather beautiful, aren’t I?”

You turn, facing him now and you move closer- giving him a light shove. One of your eyebrows is lifted in amusement- a lopsided grin on your face. This is most definitely the moment he has been waiting for.

He leans in, your faces near inches apart and he savors how your heart begins to race.

“I must admit, I was lying to you before,” he muses, “I maybe would like to do a little more than just drink wine with you tonight.”

“Y-you do?”

Astarion smiles at the way your breath hitches.

“Well of course, I believe you may be one of the most bewitching individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says while gently brushing your hair behind your ears, “but only if that would be okay with you.”

You look at him- there is lust in your eyes and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. One of your canines graze your lip and a bit of your blood begins to paint your lips- Astarion fights the urge to smash his lips to yours. You search his face for deception.

“I want to. Very badly,” you pause, “but I need to be open with you. I’ve only ever been with one man before and it wasn’t my choice. That was over 10 years ago. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go completely through with it or give you some wildly fun time… it would probably be vanilla at best even if I can get through it…”

You trail off and look at the ground, gently pushing his hand away from your face. Astarion frowns.

“If you want someone who you can actually have fun with, it might be better to go find Alfira again,” you whisper woefully, “I would absolutely understand. No harm, no foul.”

Astarion’s heart breaks for you. He gently guides your eyes back to his. You look sad and dejected -like you are ready for him to get up and walk away. You are expecting him to confirm what Dahlia has always told you- that you are an ugly, wretched, little thing. Unloveable at best and absolutely unforgivably intolerable at your worst. Astarion has slept with plenty of virgins before- he knows how to say all the right honeyed words to get them to bed, but this is entirely different. This is you and your first, consensual time with a man if you choose. If you don’t, then he won’t press the matter, but leave his door wide open. Astarion is not Cazador or Dahlia- he is not going to force you.

“I don’t care about any of that Darling,” Astarion assures you quietly, “I want you, not Alfira. We only have to go as far as you are comfortable with- if you want to.”

Your eyes are wide and searching for any hint of insincerity.

“We could even try multiple times if needed,” he says jokingly, but he knows that you can tell he’s serious.

You beam at him and your posture straightens up- a new found confidence in your eyes.

“Okay,” you finally say, “I trust you. I want to try.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You would be lying if you weren’t feeling slightly anxious. The last person you had been with was Tessa and she’d been in the ground a little over 8 years now. The two of you had made a lot of groundwork in your last year together before she died. You had attempted to be with others before, but it never felt right so you could never go through with it.

This feels right. You just aren’t sure what your reaction will be, but you want him and Astarion wants you. You trust that he won’t hurt you.

Astarion pulls you up off of the sandy floor and gives you a smile, “I promise you, you do not want to try this in sand. I happen to know a very nice spot, but we are going to have to make a brief stop first.”

You smile enthusiastically and allow him to take your hand in his as he leads you back to camp.

The walk is a blur, you barely notice that Astarion had grabbed a blanket, taken you quite far from camp, and without warning, Astarion pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss.

You have to fight the urge to collapse completely into him, your arms snaking around his neck as you kiss him back. The kiss is slow, melodic and soft. Astarion’s strong arms hold you close to his chest as he picks you up before laying you down on the blanket.

You help him discard your clothes and your wet under garments. Astarion quickly discards his shirt and pants before he returns to kissing you sweetly, softly. You let your hands glide up his torso to his shoulders and let your hands fan out as you try to memorize every inch of his body. He groans with approval at the touch and when you go to touch his back- you find if you go a little too far over where there is raised skin, he tenses up.

You stop and look up at him- he doesn’t seem like he is all there.

“Star, are you okay? Are you sure you want this?”

Whatever trance he is in, he seems to snap out of and he kisses you sweetly before placing his forehead against yours.

“I assure you that I want this, that area is just… it has some sensitive spots.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “I’ll be mindful of that and try to avoid them. Is it mostly in the middle of your back?”

Astarion stares down at you and for a moment, you think he might start crying. Astarion’s face looks so raw and appreciative in that moment- as if you are the first and only person to ever take the time to listen. Maybe you are. Maybe this is just as much of a fear of his as it is for you.

“It is,” he says huskily,” I- thank you.”

You beam up at him and gently cup the left side of his face with your hand. He leans into the touch and you stroke his cheek bone with his thumb.

“Of course Astarion, I want you to feel safe too.”

Astarion kisses you with a neediness that wasn’t there before. The kisses are still soft and innocent, but a bit more urgent as his hands begin to slowly roam your body. Everywhere he touches leaves you feeling like you are on fire and you find that you never want it to stop. You are intoxicated and so wrapped up in his cologne, his lips- everything. Him.

Astarion’s lips leave yours and you breathlessly look at him. He smiles down at you and slowly moves his hands up to your breasts.

“May I?”

You shyly nod in approval. Astarion slowly begins to pinch and tease your sensitive buds with his fingers- you arch your back and cover your mouth as you whimper needily at the touch. It’s embarrassing how touch starved you are. Astarion pulls your hand away from your mouth and he stares at you through hooded eyes.

“None of that, my Dear,” he commands, “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

You blush and then are quickly squirming underneath him again as he gently takes one of your nipples between his mouth, sucking, licking, and teasing it while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger.

You are a complete mosning mess underneath him by the time Astarion’s fingers move from your breast to your throbbing clit- earning a loud, despairing whimper from you. You need so much more- you can feel your own slick coating the inside of your thighs, weeping in anticipation.

“My, you are a very needy lover,” he chastises you as he slides a finger in,” Gods you are so wet for me already. If I had known you wanted me this badly, I would have said something a long time ago.”

“Astarion-“ you gasp as he enters another digit inside you, causing you to arch your back keening as he teases your G-spot. His other finger continues to play with your now very swollen clit and with every moan you make, he praises you. The praise alone is enough to send you over the edge.

“You are being such a good girl for me,” as he enters another finger inside.

His mouth hovers over your clit, “I’m absolutely certain the Gods sent you to ruin me.”

“You taste like the heavens,” after his tongue has been flicking inside of you in tandem with his fingers.

You come undone underneath him- your hands have made purchase in his hair, and struggle to be as gentle as possible. He groans as you gently tug him up to your mouth, kissing him, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.

“Do you want to continue Darling?” Astarion whispers as he kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and slowly nips at your earlobe.

You need him inside you and you want him to be as close to you as possible. It’s like a Dam had broken open inside you and you never want it to stop flooding.

“Fuck- Astarion,” you pant, “please continue.”

Astarion kicks of his undergarments and dips his fingers between your folds and coats his cock with your orgasm. You are speechless as you watch him slowly stroke himself, looking at you.

Astarion puts himself in between your legs and you feel him tease your entrance.

“Before I start,” he says, “you need to tell me if it’s too much and if we need to stop. You will not offend me nor hurt my feelings. We can try again another time if you want.”

“The same goes to you.”

There was that look again. Astarion grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, the neediness has certainly grown since the last statement.

You feel him begin to guide himself inside you, slowly moving until he’s bottoming out- curse words and your name leaving his lips like a prayer. You feel the tears prick your eyes at the pinching and pressure as you adjust to his size. He slowly rocks himself in and out, barely making any movement, but enough to stimulate you more.

“Are you okay?” He says with alarm, wiping your tears.

“Yes- I promise,” you say between panting whimpers, you press your ankles into his lower back to keep him there. It’s beginning to feel better and you open up through the tadpole to show him you mean it. The thoughts were probably far hornier than you meant to show him and he smirks at you.

“Cheeky pup.”

Astarion begins to make his thrusts longer as your moans became louder and more euphoric sounding. You kiss him with fervor as he pumps in and out of you, keeping a slow pace.

“You can speed up now,” you whisper between kisses, “you feel really fucking good inside of me Star.”

Astarion moans against your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy as he teases your bottom lip between his, pulling slightly. You feel his hips begin to snap slightly harder against yours and you cry out as he begins to hit that perfect spot faster and slightly harder.

“You are so beautiful,” he says while grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, “and you feel so fucking good around my cock.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand any of our other companions looking at you sideways ever again.”

“Then give them a reason not to.”

That seemed to be enough for Astarion as he immediately goes to work leaving hickeys along your neck, your shoulders. You will have to ask him how he’s able to do it so gently.

Astarion’s thrusts inside you are getting sloppier and you have your hands dug in the earth as he slightly lifts you off the ground to get more leverage. You moan his name in between curse words and whimpers as another powerful orgasm rips through your body. You feel him stutter as you tighten around him and finish inside of you. Astarion’s pace moves to a slow rhythm before coming to a halt.

Vampire and half-vampire perks- the whole kid thing? Basically not even remotely possible.

Astarion lays gently on top of you, kissing your neck lazily.

“How was that, Darling?” Astarion asks as he looks into your eyes with concern and worry.

You gently grab his face with your hands and leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“It was absolutely perfect,” you say, your brain foggy and swimming in the throes of bliss and your deep fondness of the man above you, “you are absolutely perfect.”

************************************

You had fallen asleep quite some time ago in Astarion’s arms. The concept of what happens after sex (normally) was quite foreign to him. Usually he was dragging people to their death after sex, but now he gets to sit and enjoy you- have you all to himself. After it had all been said and done, you had curled into one another, practically nose to nose and just talked. You caught up with each other about what the other missed over the last three days, picked the next ideal type of book to read, and how disasterous the Crèche is likely going to be considering Shadowheart is insisting on going. Lae’zel is positively miffed about it. You laugh and he asks about Minthara. You tell him about the vision she showed you, but he could tell you were holding something back. You don’t push him- he won’t push you.

You tell him about your mother- a former Lolth sorceress who didn’t align with the Spider Queen’s ideals. She was shunned by her parents when she denounced Lolth and she moved to the surface- meeting your dad. Your mother was practical and pragmatic- calculating and protective. Your father, on the other hand, was like a warm breeze on a perfect sunny day.

Astarion tells you about what little he remembers of his life as a Magistrate and his parents. You both ponder what they could possibly be doing in the world right then- pretending there is a possibility that you could find them together when this was all over- even just so he can know.

Astarion’s head is swimming with confusion. It was all very different than when Astarion had gone out hunting for Cazador.

You and him had spent at least a two and a half weeks getting to know each other extensively, spent quality time together over mutual hobbies, and you’ve even seemed to meld together as a fighting duo. You are friends- Astarion expected it to be maybe slightly different, more enjoyable than usual.

Astarion was quickly proven wrong.

This was eons different. Despite the feelings of it being tainted to some degree due to his past, it had been jaw dropping, sweet, simple, and, dare he even say it, intimate. Astarion finds that he actually craves more of you this way, but he also still wants you the way you had each other before. The shame and self-loathing are choking him. There is no way you’ll see him as something other than sex now.

Right?

Astarion honestly isn’t sure and that terrifies him. You were so kind to him tonight while you were in his arms. You respected his boundaries; you avoided that part of his body even though he didn’t tell you not to; you wanted him to feel safe with you too. You took the time to talk to him and play with his hair while he spoke about his parents, becoming a bit emotional.

Vanilla is hardly the word to describe what just happened between the two of you- it was wonderful and frightening. Astarion questions if it’s selfish to want more, to abandon his plan all together.

Astarion stares down at your sleeping face as your limbs are tangled with his. He wants to stay, but he wants to run away from you too. Except Astarion needs your protection- that’s what this was all for, wasn’t it?

That’s what compels him to leave soft kisses on your forehead and to hold you a little tighter- it’s why tears fall from Astarion’s cheeks onto the blanket beneath you when he thinks about the day you’ll end up letting him go.

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes Masterlist

Summary: Pheonyx Greene is the oldest of the Greene siblings. He’s always been different than the rest of his family; having endured abuse from his biological father as a kid and growing up as bisexual/transgender in conservative rural Georgia. He finds himself on the family farm recovering from top surgery when the world falls apart. As the dead begin to rise, Pheonyx finds himself becoming the sole protector of the farm as his family lives in denial about the Shadows of loved ones past. His life is changed the day Rick Grimes shows up on the farm, and shortly after a certain gruff archer as well. Daryl is drawn to younger man but how does he deal with the internal prejudices he’s grown up with?

Series CW/TW: Homophobia/transphobia/biphobia, zenophobia/racism/sexism(Merle), age gap romance(11yr difference. Pheonyx is 28, Daryl is 39 ), sexual assault/rape, child molestation, canon character deaths, body mutilation, child abuse, torture, hunting, smut 18+( P in V, unprotected sex(please practice safe sex!), creampie, breeding kink, rough sex, marking/biting, oral sex, sub/dom undertones), animal deaths(NOT KISMET), scars, blood, corpses, depression/anxiety, body dysphoria, religious trauma, menstruation mentions

AO3 FF.net

Playlist (Songs that remind me of Pheonyx/the story, or just songs I listen to while writing in general)

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

[eretzyisrael]

by Debbie Weiss

At least one-third of the 136 hostages still in the Hamas terror group’s custody in Gaza are at imminent risk of death, a disturbing report released on Tuesday found.

The report came a day after several former hostages, who were released during a temporary Israel-Hamas truce at the end of November, testified that those still in captivity in Gaza had been subjected to extreme forms of violence, including sexual assault at gunpoint and amputation.

“The testimonies from those who have been released reveal severe mental and physical abuse. This includes brutal sexual assault (men and women) mutilation, torture, starvation and dehydration, and a lack of medical care, with no access to Red Cross representatives. The worsening health of these hostages, both men and women, is alarming,” the report, released by the Hostages and Missing Persons Families Forum, stated.

The forum was established by families of the abductees who were kidnapped to Gaza during Hamas’ Oct. 7 onslaught across southern Israel, as well as by the families of people who went missing due to the attack.

A third of the hostages are suffering from chronic illnesses that need immediate treatment, including diabetes, Crohn’s disease, cancer, and heart and kidney disease. The hostages suffering from those diseases include young people — such as 22-year-old Omer Wenkert, who has ulcerative colitis, and 35-year-old Dolev Yehud, who suffers from kidney and thyroid diseases — and older people, Israeli Jews and Arabs alike.

A chilling testimony by Agam Goldstein-Almog, 17 — who was released after 51 days of captivity along with her mother, Chen, 49, and siblings, Gal, 11, and Tal, 9 — was screened at a rally in Tel Aviv.

“One day we moved from a house to a tunnel, suddenly a door opened, and we met six girls. We realized that there were girls who were alone. Many girls experienced severe sexual abuse, they are injured — very, very serious and complex injuries that are not being treated,” she said. “They dress their wounds themselves, or we helped them.”

In captivity in Gaza, “you live death,” she said.

“You don’t know when it will catch you and how it will look, if it will happen through torture or if they will just shoot you or even if it’ll be by the bombings from the air force,” she continued. “You’re always thinking about what death will look like.”

Goldstein-Almog’s mother, Chen, a social worker, said she saw some of the female hostages still being held in Gaza during her time there, and they had suffered weeks of isolation as well as sexual abuse.

“There were girls who spent 50 days and more alone. When they were sad, crying, their captors would stroke them and touch them. They described accounts of sexual abuse under gunpoint on a regular basis,” she said.

“Some of the girls were badly wounded and haven’t been getting proper medical care. Gunshot wounds, even lost limbs. They said they can cope with the disability but not with the manner they were constantly violated,” she added.

Chen Almog-Goldstein’s other daughter, Yam, 20, and husband Nadav were among the 1,200 people murdered by Hamas terrorists during their Oct. 7 massacre.

Eighteen-year-old Ofir Engel’s testimony, in which he described the pride with which he was shown off like a trophy, was also screened at the Tel Aviv rally.

“In Gaza we were immediately brought to a home, as if they were proud to show what they managed to catch,” said Engel, who was released after 54 days. “We were constantly told that we won’t return alive, that no one wants us in Israel, and that our families don’t care about us. Every day, they broke us a little more, and then a little more.”

Tuesday’s report, which was released to coincide with the three-month anniversary since Oct. 7, was accompanied by a letter from eight Nobel Prize laureates who urged the UN, Red Cross, and World Health Organization to advocate for the hostages’ release and to facilitate access to medical aid in the meantime.

Prof. Hagai Levine, head of the forum’s medical team, issued a stark warning: “All the hostages face immediate mortal danger. Some will not survive 100 days in captivity without proper care.”

A day earlier, Israeli media reported that the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) is aware of the exact whereabouts of Yahya Sinwar, Hamas’ chief in Gaza, but is refraining from carrying out a strike because the terror leader was surrounding himself with dozens of hostages as human shields.

[bluewavesofchange]

The guardians of the Pharaoh

The rise of a new darkness

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters

This chapter has mention of child abuse and implied assault. So a warning is in place.

Chapter 11

 

The sun had set over Domino city…the helicopter landed at the hanger where the zeppelin for the Battle City finals was kept. Lillian had passed out during the flight, the pain and exhaustion had been too much and in a way Seto was glad she was out. Rather that than having to sit in agony the entire flight. He had wrapped his coat around her to cover her wounds, not caring if her blood ruined the fabric, he had another one anyways.

 

He got out of the copter, a few members of his staff waiting with a stretcher and anything else they would need to help the wounded girl. He had informed Roland about had happened and instructed him to put the medical staff on standby.

 

The tall teen laid her down on the stretcher, laying Lillian on her side so that her wounds weren’t pressed against anything, knowing the pressure would cause her pain. He stroked her cheek and moved a few strands of her hair out of her face before stepping back so that his staff could get to work, watching as the doctor checks her vitals before they move her onto the aircraft.

 

Seto wanted to follow and stay by her side but there were other things to attend to. The obvious plan of action would be to cancel the tournament before anyone else got hurt…but that would probably send Marik back into hiding. And he wanted nothing more than to enact his vengeances on the bastard, to make him suffer like no one’s suffered before. To make him beg for mercy as the brunet breaks every bone in his bone one by one…

 

But he can’t right now. He needed to ensure that the tournament continued…he could let word get out that one contestant had tried to kill two other competitors, a civilian and not to mention torture and mutilate another. The media would have a field day and his sure reputation of his company would plummet. He could lose everything he worked so hard for…and if he were honest he and Mokuba would be well off (after all he had more money than what he knew what to do with) but the people that worked for him did not and would suffer if Kaiba Corp went down.

 

So for now he would let things continue. The Battle City Finals would continue and when the time came he would make Marik pay for what he did. Yugi and his friends might hate him for this but he didn’t have a choice. There was a lot at stake and he needed to consider the risks. Besides he could always let Marik fall to his death from the zeppelin once they were away from the main land…

 

His turned back to the helicopter and saw that Mokuba hadn’t moved since they landed; in fact he hadn’t said a word for the entire flight. Seto was sure the kid was trying to deal with what happened…he was still a child and yet he had been kidnapped twice and had watched his friends nearly die and listened as another was tortured. The brunet had tried his best to ensure the Mokuba never went through what he went through while they were growing up. Seto thanks the stars every day that their step father had never laid a hand on his little brother. Mokuba didn’t deserve to get hurt…he may seem like an indifferent a spoiled rich boy to the rest of the world but he truly did care for the people closest to him. He wanted the best for his little brother and for Mokuba to have a great life and bright future���it’s why he endured years of pain and humiliation from Gozuburo. It was all for him.

 

Mokuba was always the cheerier of the two Kaiba brothers; he wore a smile on his face and had a positive attitude. Seeming him so downcast and bleak was a sin. Seto walked over and stood by the door of the helicopter, “We need to get going. The finalists will be arriving soon.” He spoke in his usual monotone voice. Mokuba didn’t respond and kept staring at the floor; Seto sighed as he got into the copter and closed the door as the pilot was making preparations to take off again.

 

The older Kaiba turned to the younger, “Look…I know what happened was…hard. But I need you to get over it and move on. I need my commissioner to help run the finals…”

 

He watched as his little brother’s hands slowly close, tears forming in his eyes as he finally spoke, “How can you be so cold after what happened?”

 

“Because someone needs to stay focused. Listen Mokuba…there will be time to cry over what happened later but we can’t risk anyone else getting hurt. We need to concentrate one making sure everything else runs smoothly and that we don’t have any other surprises.”

 

“But—“

 

“No buts.” Seto’s expression turned stern, “I know that what happened was hard to experience…I know that Yugi, Téa and Joey are your friends, although I don’t get how you can stand to be around Wheeler.” He says as he rolls his eyes as he folds his arms, “And that nearly losing them was traumatic for you…I’m not even gonna talk about what happened to Lil but you can’t let it drag you down…not when we need to ensure that everything else goes smoothly and that we ensure that the person responsible for all this gets what’s coming to him...” he looked out the window, watching as people were running about, preparing the zeppelin for take-off.

 

The helicopter lifted off the ground as Seto turned back to his brother who was still trying to fight back tears. Mokuba had taken his brothers word to heart and in a way he was right like usual. He just didn’t want to admit it. The whole ordeal had truly terrified him; his friends had nearly died right in front of his eyes. He had appreciated who his big brother had tried to shield him from everything, going so far as to deafen the sounds of his friends pained screams. He knew Seto was only trying to protect him and even know his big brother was trying to keep him safe in his own cold hearted way.

 

He couldn’t distract himself with feeling grief over what happened. It would only distract him from doing what needed to be done to ensure the safety of everyone else. He knew his brother was probably thinking of the future and other things that Mokuba couldn’t see right not. He was always considering things that others wouldn’t even think about. He just wished that Seto wouldn’t be so cold all the time but he should’ve expected this reaction from him…well it was either this or loosing himself in a fit of rage. He was rather surprised at how calm Seto had been about what happened…he was hiding his rage rather well considering his expression had remained blank since pulling Lillian out of the water…

 

Mokuba sniffled softly as he rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the tears. He froze for a moment when he felt his big brother’s arm wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug, “We can deal with this later once the tournament is over. But we have sometime before we arrive at the stadium to greet the finalist, even if it isn’t much time.” Seto spoke softly, glancing down at Mokuba, “So let out whatever you need to get out. Cry if you need to, scream if you want to…but once we land I need my little brother to be at his best, to stand at my side as my commissioner and my second in command…because there’s no one else I trust to handle this more than you Mokuba…”

 

The kid started tearing up as he looked up at his big brother, “…Honestly I don’t think I would’ve made it this far in life without you little brother…everything I’ve ever done was for you. After our parent’s passed and our relatives stole our inheritance and abandoned us at that hell hole, I wanted nothing more than to ensure our future and that we would never suffer financially again…I wanted you to have a life you deserved. Even if I had to endure the brunt of our step father’s aggression, I do not regret challenging the man that day…because it meant that you could have a good future.” He ruffled the boy’s hair as tears were running down the younger Kaiba’s cheeks, “You are one of the most important people in my life, and possibly the most important…the other person can’t be here right now. You are the reason I strive to be the best and to do what I do and Lillian gives me the strength I need to be best.” He turns his gaze to the window, looking at the city lights.

 

“But she can’t be here right now…she got hurt because I hosted this stupid tournament…and you could’ve gotten hurt too…” for the first time since he pulled Lillian from the depths his emotionless mask started to crack as a tear forms in his eye and threatens to run down his cheek, ”I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything happened to you again…I couldn’t even keep you safe from Pegasus, I had to rely on Yugi and Lillian to save us both…if Marik turned you against me like how he turned Joey and Téa against Yugi…or if he had hurt you like he…” Seto could feel his hands tremble, slowly losing more of his composure. He took a deep breath in and released it slowly, “…I would’ve snapped and burned the world to the ground till everyone involved in your suffering knew the pain we both felt…

 

Mokuba it’s hard to express what I’m feeling right now…it feels like weakness even though you and Lillian have told me many times it’s not. I need to be strong, to be the best, to protect my heart…and that means that I have to protect you both because you two are my heart. And right now I need to ask you a difficult task…to be my strength while the other half of my heart is healing. So use this time to grieve and let out your sorrow…because the storm is yet to come and I will need my little brother at my side.”

 

Mokuba slowly let the walls break and he buried his face in Seto’s shirt, letting the tears flow freely as he silently cried. This was the brother he knew from long ago, the brother he thought he lost when they were adopted, the brother who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable, and the brother he knew lay buried beneath the person their step father had created. He was always there, hidden behind this egotistical and arrogant man. This was the side of Seto that would only show itself when he was with Mokuba and Lillian because they only ever wanted him to be himself and didn’t push any unrealistic expectations onto him the way Gozuburo had over the years.

 

Seto held his little brother as he cried, a single tear running down the brunet’s cheek, letting out a small ounce of the turmoil he was feeling deep within his mind and soul. He’s brother had been taken from him again but he returned to him faster than last time…but the woman he loved had suffered immensely. He knew the pain she had felt with the whip had licked her flesh with each strike, the scars on his back were a reflection of that same pain…only difference was that her wounds were inflicted to make Yugi suffer while his wounds were created to teach him to submit to his step fathers will.

 

The pain and screams were still the same…he heard it echoing in his mind even now while they flew over the city. She felt so fragile and small when he held her in his arms after the ordeal, so far from the girl who had snuck into his room every night since they found each other again after being adopted and had given him the strength to keep going, the girl who had consoled him every time he nearly broke from his step father’s abuse…even the night he did break…the one night the monster came into his room and held him down, doing unspeakable things to him while he struggled under the man…

 

He promised himself he would never speak of that night…he locked that memory so far back in his mind…and yet here he was thinking about it. He had never felt so violated and humiliated in his life. He had truly felt afraid that night…because if his step father could do something like that to him, then it meant he could do it to Mokuba. But he never touched his brother…and strangely enough he never touched him that way again after that night…and Lillian was to thank for that.

 

She had told him a few months after that night that she had seen what had happened to him. She arrived at the manor same time she did every night to patch him up, only she found someone else in Seto’s room with the boy that night. She had told him that she froze up as she watched, she felt ashamed that she didn’t do anything to make it stop but Seto was relieved she didn’t in a way…because if she had tried to stop his step father, the man would’ve hurt her, possibly killed her.

 

Lillian had explained that after he left Seto’s room she wanted to kill him…to end the abusers life…she had gone to the kitchen to grab a knife and ended up outside Gozuburo’s room, stopping when she heard the man enjoying a drink while boasting about what he did to his man servant Hobson. The man asked his employer what would happen if Seto exposed the man for the abuse…to which he responded that he had plans in place if anything were to happen to him, that Seto would be sent away to a mental institute and Mokuba would either end up back in the orphanage or be disposed of. She went back to Seto’s room, finding him curled up under the sheers…crying…a pillow over his head…muffling his screams of agony. She had never heard anything like it and she never wanted to hear it again.

 

If she had killed the man, Seto would lose everything, including his little brother. And she wouldn’t let that happen…so she came up with a plan. She stole some of her mother’s sleeping pills and mixed it into Gozuburo’s favourite bottle of bourbon, he would have a glass every night at dinner and would be dizzy and tired half an hour later. He would go to bed and sleep through the night, meaning he left Seto alone.

 

The beatings weren’t as frequent but they continued…however that night never happened again…

 

Seto was angry and grateful at the same time…she had prevented the worst night of his life having a repeat performance.

 

They never spoke about it after that, they promised never to speak about it again and he buried that night deep down, his personality shifted after that, becoming the cold indifferent person people saw him as today…it was after that night that he started plotting to take everything from his step father and make him feel as humiliated as he had made Seto feel…

 

Lillian respected his wishes and gave him the support and strength he needed to continue. She never pitied him for what happened and stood by his side every night, staying longer to help him deal with his nightmares. And she still loved him despite the change in personality and his behaviour, she still stood by him…even after he hit her she love him…he felt like he didn’t deserve her but he was selfish and would keep her by his side till his last day…

 

 

The helicopter landed in the stadium and the brothers disembarked, Mokuba hugging Seto one last time as he whispered, “I love you big brother.” The brunet returned the embrace and ruffled his hair, “Love you too Mokuba.”

 

They separated as the copter left and they waited for the finalists to arrive.

[rise-my-angel]

Its very interesting that we have three separate instances in season three of men being victims of rape at the hands of female perpetators, but we hardly ever discuss it as such.

I've gone into much detail before about how Jons experiences with Ygritte are a blatant case of rape and abuse, that gets romanticized in a very damaging and toxic manner. So I won't rehash my many points again here.

But then there is Theon. Who has been tortured and tormented for months on end, and one day gets bombarded with two women seducing him when he clearly has little agency to voice his discomfort. And considering this was all a ruse to mutilate him, it clearly strips Theon of a real ability to consent.

Then we have Gendry, who once more is brought to Dragonstone under false pretenses. Is seduced by Melisendre who takes advantage of his clear inexperience to hide her ruse of leaching blood from his body including putting a leach on his cock as he begs her not to.

One season and three instances of male victims of rape and sexual assault all comitted while holding the threat of death and mutilation over their heads. And all three men are never given the chance to properly reflect on how those experiences clearly changed and traumatized them.

Interesting that I don't think I've ever seen this trio collection of assaults examined in any detail in regards to the motifs or themes of the season.

[laughing-hellblazer]

⛥TIMELINE⛧

trigger warnings: suicide, violence, csa, death, child abuse, dark themes

the 50's

1953: John is born in a complicated birth that kills his mother and twin brother. His father, Thomas, refuses him for the first two weeks of his life, which are spent sickly in the hospital. A single nurse is put in charge of his care, and holds him to her chest to listen to her heartbeat. Because of this, John survives his infantile illness. The duty of taking care of the baby John is left to his older sister, Cheryl, who is only 8 years old.

the 60's

1961: John's father is sent to prison for seven months for stealing women's underwear, during which time John and his sister, Cheryl, are sent to live with their Aunt Dolly and Uncle Harry in Northampton, UK. John is accosted by three teenage boys who deeply burn his chest with cigarettes for being a Scouser.

1967: John casts his first spell, locking his childhood innocence away in a toy house, which he later buries in a time capsule at his school. John is later expelled from school, and his father blames this on his obsession with the occult, turning far more abusive. John curses his father by binding his soul to that of a roadkill cat corpse, but later halts the spell by storing the cat in formaldehyde. This doesn't break the spell, and leaves Thomas Constantine frail, but just as abusive.

1968: John runs away from home and gets to just outside of London. He stays with a woman named Estella, who teaches him how to use tarot cards and divination magic. He is later caught by police at a satanic party and sent home to his furious father in Liverpool.

1969: John runs away to London again, this time successfully arriving in the city proper. On his way he rides along with a serial killer ex-priest who attempts to assault and mutilate him. He meets Chas Chandler, who is a prisoner of his mother, Queenie, and her familiar, Slag. John murders Slag the Monkey, thus killing Queenie and freeing Chas. Chas owes him a debt that John never stops cashing in.

the 70's

1974: John attempts suicide at age 21, overdosing on sleeping pills with alcohol. During attempt he has visions of a purgatorial demon named Araethos, who tries to lay claim to his soul while he's dying. He is found and rescued by roommate and childhood friend Gaz Lester, who stays with him at the hospital. Gaz calls Cheryl, who comes to London for a night to visit him, even though the two are estranged. The two talk for a while and rekindle their relationship, with Cheryl and Gaz both encouraging John to take better care of himself.

1977: John and his friends Richie, Beano, and Gaz form new wave punk band Mucous Membrane. Chas becomes a roadie for the band, traveling with them across the UK as a struggling opening act. In their travels John meets Brendan Finn, a music manager who quickly becomes a close friend. The two part on good terms before their gig at the Casanova Club in Newcastle.

1978: After sensing dark magic at the Casanova gig, John investigates to find a girl, Astra, being used as part of dark rituals at the hands of the club's owner, her father. With a group of band members, roadies, and fellow magic users, John forms the Newcastle Crew, a group with the mission to put an end to the dark magic being cast over the Casanova Club. As they discover, Astra has been possessed by a demon se summoned, Norfulthing. Their mission fails when John attempts to summon a demon, but fails to bind it, and Astra is killed. John has a mental breakdown and is sent to Ravenscar Secure Facility for two years.

1979: John is tortured by the guards and doctors at Ravenscar for his assumed crime of killing a child, and he accepts all the pain as punishment for failing Astra. He is subjected to conscious E.C.T. and physical abuse every day until his release in 1980.

the 80's

1980: John wanders the North Yorkshire countryside and is taken in by traveling Brendan Finn, who then takes him across the country in a soul searching journey. John develops feelings for Brendan, but doesn't express them. The two return to England, where John meets Brendan's girlfriend, Kit Ryan.

1982: John meets and courts Emma, an American artist, the two become a steady couple, with Emma knowing about and accepting John's magic. She becomes the first girl John ever introduced to his family.

1983: John and Brendan steal the Ace of Winchesters, a demon-slaying gun, from Voodoo priest Papa Midnite for collector Jerry O'Flynn. Jerry and Brendan get into a fight, and John has to separate them. John, Brendan, and Kit have one last drink together before John sets out for London again. Once in London, John befriends a man named Seth before finding out he's abusing his girlfriend, Annette, who John then offers a place to stay and sleeps with. Annette uses his occult book collection to make a deal with the Third of the Fallen to kill Seth, then ends her own life from horror.

1984: Beano contacts John, desperate to have his house rid of ghosts. Taking Chas with him, John investigates, and he finds the ghosts of a little girl and the man who murdered her. John let's the girl's ghost go free, and she ascends to heaven, but the murderer's soul begins to fall to hell, and he drags John with him. John is able to escape from hell through a deal that he's never shared the details of, and shows up just in time to be at his own funeral. A succubus and angel turn to John for help when expecting a baby. John is able to hide Ellie, the succubus, but not Tali the angel, or the baby being born. Tali is killed by fellow angels, and the angels then take the baby.

1985: Able to sense the balance of the planet changing, and something dark approaching, John gets in contact with the Elemental Swamp Thing and enlists his help to defeat the Brujera. Over the next two years, several members of the Newcastle Crew are killed by the encroaching Darkness, including Emma.

1987: Eventually, John gathers a group of magic users including Zatara and his daughter Zatanna to form a magic circle. In this circle, two will die, including Zatara protecting his daughter. After returning from the circle, John finds his old friend and bandmate, Gaz Lester, in need of help after releasing the demon Mnemoth in New York. Turning to Papa Midnite for help , John manages to contain Mnemoth, but not without paying the price of Gaz's life. John begins to see ghosts of the Newcastle Crew haunting him, as well as his old lover, Emma.

1988: John meets Zed. The Resurrection Crusade and the Damnation Army both rise up as new gangs in London, and John finds himself entangled with the gangs through his niece being kidnapped. After rescuing her from the Damnation army, Zed goes missing. After jumping out of a moving train and nearly dying, John is approached by Nergal in the hospital with a deal to end a prophecy which would mean slavery under Heaven. Nergal gives John some of his own blood to regenerate him to perfect health. John finds Zed, now part of the Resurrection Crusade, and has sex with her. John is then possessed by Swamp Thing in order to conceive a child with his wife, Abby, who then becomes the host of the Sprout. This neutralizes the prophecy, assuring neither Hell nor Heaven have claim to Earth just yet. After finding out that Nergal is the same demon who kille dAstra in 1978, John uses his connections with the disembodied technomancer, RIchie, to destroy Nergal at the gates of Heaven. Richie then takes the body of Nergal and becomes a demonic entity who is trapped in hell.

1989: At the request of the Aspect of Dream, Morpheus, John tracks down the Bag of Sand, running into his old girlfriend after she's become addicted to the dreamstuff in the sachet. Morpheus repays John by temporarily relieving him of nightmares for the return of his item. While on the run from the police after a spurious article about him is published, he meets Marj and her daughter Mercury, a pair of Travellers who he befriends and lives with for a time. Mercury, a psychic, is drawn to a secret facility that is later found to be one of the locations for a covert operation known as the Fear Machine. This turns out to be part of a masonic plot to bring forth the God of All Gods, Jallakuntilliokan. Turning to Zed, who has become a Pagan Sex Witch, Marj, John, and Mercury are able to summon forth the feminine counteraspect to Jallakuntilliokan, and all of reality is saved by their union. John is unable to remember most of this in hie waking life, but still has vivid nightmares about it in the Dreaming.

the 90's

1990: John has a run in with a serial killer known as the Family Man, unknowingly giving him the names and addresses of his next victims. When he becomes haunted by the ghosts of those the Family Man killed, he begins to track the man down. The Family Man, in retaliation, kills John’s father, Thomas. John hunts the Family Man down and shoots him with a gun Chas got for him t put an end to his killings. At his father’s funeral, John notices Gemma is seeing the ghost of Thomas Constantine, and realizes it’s tied to the curse he cast when he was 14. John and Gemma burn the cat corpse, releasing his father into the afterlife. Accompanied by the other members of the Trenchcoat Brigade, John introduces a young mage, Timothy Hunter, to the occult. Timothy finds the time capsule John buried as a child, and John urges him to rebury it and keep the innocence locked away. Timothy reluctantly agrees.

1991: John finds out, after a horrific night of literally coughing up a lung, that he has terminal lung cancer. While touring a cancer ward he meets and befriends a patient named Matt, who is also dying of terminal lung cancer. He visits Brendan Finn in hopes that the older warlock can cure his lung cancer, only to find out that Brendan, himself, is dying from liver failure. To protect Brendan’s soul from the First of the Fallen, John tricks him into drinking holy water and breaks a bottle of sacramental wine over his head. The First of the Fallen lays claim on his soul by insult, damning him to hell. In a bid to keep himself alive and out of hell, he tries to make deals through Ellie and through the Archangel Gabriel, both of which fall through. As a final attempt, after saying his goodbyes to his loved ones, John makes deals with the Second and Third of the fallen, deadlocking his soul between the three Lords of Hell. The First of the Fallen cures his lung cancer in the most excruciating way possible, then remakes his entire body from scratch, without once killing or allowing Constantine to go unconscious. John is then made ageless to prevent him from dying and setting off a war in hell. He also meets Kit Ryan for the first time in 8 years. Matt dies from his cancer right in front of John.

1992: The First of the Fallen attempts to use Ellie against John, but she instead turns to him for protection. John carves a sigil into her soul that severs and hides her from hell. Kit and John begin to go steady with the promise that John’s magic work will not enter their relationship. Gemma attempts magic and Cheryl tells John to deal with it. He finds the boy who introduced her to it and gives him a fright, while Kit talks to Gemma about the seriousness of casting magic. In the end, Gemma decides not to pursue the same profession as her uncle, and stays away from magic. The King of the Vampires offers John immortality, but John turns him down and insults him. John and Chas go to visit Chas' uncle, only to find him dead from a heart attack. At the funeral, they discover body snatchers stealing his body, and in tracking him down, find a private militia operation testing ammunition on corpses. John releases the souls of the bodies, who then kill the director of the project.

1993: After crossing a noble-tied Neo-Nazi group, John is kidnapped and Kit is attacked. John’s friend, Dez, is murdered in front of him. John, seeking protection from the Lords of Hell, causes Gabriel’s fall and claims his heart. Due to trouble having come to Kit from their relationship, she severs ties with John and leaves him for Belfast. John spirals, having felt love for the first time with Kit, and enters into a six-month depressive episode filled with alcoholism and homelessness. During this time, he meets a young man named Davy, who is a male prostitute and homeless as well. The King of the Vampires finds them asleep together for warmth, and kills Davy. John gives in, and is fed upon by the vampire, who rejects his demon blood. As the blood dissolves his jaw, John drags him into the sunlight, killing him.

1994: After New Years Day, John has a contact encounter with the ghost of a WWII fighter pilot which inspires John to get his life back together and move on. John goes to New York for a holiday, and is poisoned by Papa Midnite and forced onto a Witchwalk through a pocket of Hell while his body is vulnerable on Earth. He’s able to escape with the help of Midnite’s sister, and the threat of her revenge forces Midnite to jump off the Empire State Building.

1995: Chas seeks John’s help with his daughter, Geraldine, who has gone into a coma since giving birth to her daughter, Trish. John finds that her soul has been severed from her body and taken to Los Angeles. Chas joins John on a trip to LA, where they confront Beroul, her captor. Beroul is keeping Geraldine’s soul inside of his own body, and demands that John hunt down a list of demons that are interfering with his business. John uses the ancient god Mictlantecuhtli to eliminate the other demons, but Beroul and Mictlantecuhtli instead make a deal behind his back. John later makes another deal with Mictlantecuhtli, who can stitch souls back together with their bodies. Restoring Geraldine back with her body, John then plays chicken with Geraldine’s soul using an ancient spell. Mictlantecuhtli relinquishes Geraldine’s body and soul in response, and John and Chas safely see her back to London.

1996: John is tricked by Ellie into opening and reading from the Fuhajd’haersk, or in human tongues, The Book of Mirrors. John is then trapped inside the pages of the book, each of which contain a gateway to another reality. For the next eighteen years, John is trapped inside of the book and the infinite realms and realities contained within its pages. Cheryl, after John's assumed death, takes in John’s belongings, storing them in her attic. These items include the Book of Mirrors, which is packed away.

the 00's

2008: During his travels through realities, John ends up in a magical realm where witches and wizards are commonplace. Here he meets a witch named Elias Blackburn, who turns out to be quite the dashing rogue. The two begin a torrid relationship and work together on a heist of the Academy library. They plan to steal a book containing a spell that could release John from the Book of Mirrors, but instead John is abandoned by Elias and captured by the city guard. Imprisoned, he slips through realities again, leaving behind nothing but the amulet Elias gave him.

2014: While emptying her mother Cheryl’s attic, Gemma’s children Sally (7), Topaz (5), and Cher (3) get into some of John’s things, including the Book of Mirrors. Through trying to read the book, they are sucked into the stories along with John, disappearing from their grandmother’s living room. John finds them and guides them through the dangers of multiple realities, protecting them from several dangers ranging from a fantasy novel’s dragons to a horror novel’s killer. Eventually, Gemma opens the book to a page they’re all on, and reading aloud from the book opens the gateway John needs to escape with all three kids in tow. Gemma is shocked to see the uncle who went missing back in 1996, and relieved that her children are safe and sound thanks to him. They try to burn the book, but flame has no effect. They wrap the book up and seal it away behind some bricks of the foundation. John stays with Gemma for a short time while adjusting to the missing years of his life, but eventually he moves back to London in search of Chas, who is now dying of lung cancer due to second-hand exposure.

[passportclown]

Overhaul's Punishment

Let's talk about Overhaul.

This post may be edited frequently with new information or new opinions.

(Hey! Here from the year 2024. Some of the info in this post isn't elaborated on well enough or doesn't have enough specifications mentioned. But someone in the reblogs pointed those things out if you want quick corrections. If I made this post now I would've changed a few things and mentioned other things, I just don't feel like doing that. Still wanted to mention that here, though.)

Content Warning: Discussion of torture and child abuse.

The United Nations set the max amount of time in solitary confinement to 15 days, which is more than enough to have permanent trauma. Let's assume that in the BNHA universe, these laws still hold up. When we see him appear again he's in a secluded cell, we can assume he was in solitary confinement or that's just where he resides.

Kai Chisaki was in Tartarus for months.

Tartarus is, from what we can tell, a glorified torture home. Patients like Overhaul aren't given prosthetics (the bare minimum for an amputee) nor healthcare for their quirks or mental state. From what we know, there wasn't even any investigation into how he lost his hands. He was already detained and no longer a threat when his hands were removed, there should've been an investigation.

He deserved punishment, to go to prison and pay for his crimes and realize why what he did was wrong. However, Kai didn't receive a psychiatrist or a psychologist, nobody who could officially diagnose him and help him repent.

Tartarus is a prison in which the prisoners never leave, they spend the rest of their lives there as punishment. We can assume from what we've seen that Tartarus doesn't cater to the prisoner's quirks [which should be a basic human right, even for 'bad' people. (Toga, Twice, Shigaraki, Dabi, and many more have been mistreated for one reason or another due to their quirks.)]

We've seen no accommodation to Overhaul's Mysophobia, in fact, he actually looks quite dirty when we first see him in Tartarus.

Let's list Overhaul's crimes, Mass murder [including child murder] Usurpation Gaslighting Mutilation Abuse [physical and psychological, including child abuse] Torture Drug dealing Attempted cultural genocide Destruction of property Assault and battery Jailbreak Organized crime [-Villain Wiki]

Crimes of this amount, would [in places in our world] result in the death penalty.

Speaking of penalties, in the universe of BNHA, we don't see any lawful punishments that include removing quirk factors, it actually seems quite taboo. Child abusers deserve immense punishment [nobody is arguing on that] but the actions taken towards Overhaul were illegal and objectively immoral.

He was assigned a life sentence [Which was deserved however you could also argue that he deserves the death penalty. I personally believe he should live with his sins and be punished for them but I can understand if your opinion differs.], repenting for his crimes and no longer being able to cause any harm. Shigaraki took his own revenge by removing Overhaul's hands. I feel as if only one of these punishments would've sufficed. In serving his life sentence he'd repent for his crimes and no longer be able to cause any harm. As soon as his hands were removed, he experienced immense distress that caused him trauma.

The current Overhaul is not a functional member of society, he's a broken husk, a shell of his former self. When Shigaraki made him an amputee, we could see that Overhaul was immediately broken. He'd no longer be able to use his quirk, to do basic daily tasks which accommodate his phobia [Cleaning, etc] or to heal his father.

Overhaul put his father into a coma that [supposedly] only his quirk can cure, it's either that or the doctors aren't putting much effort into waking up his Pops. [We've already seen the corruption in this universe, weaker people are afforded fewer rights and opportunities. Pops not receiving proper medical care could be because he has a weak quirk or his affiliation with a criminal.] With people like Overhaul, Eri, and the nurse I think it's safe to say there'd be at least one doctor able to attempt something. [We could just not be shown this but there is an actual effort being made, not just seeing him in a bed with doctors.]

More effort is put into restraining people with powerful and 'dangerous' quirks, Muscular, AFO, and Stain. But Overhaul is effectively quirkless. It wouldn't be far-fetched to assume they just threw him in a cell, made sure he was fed, and were done with it. [We can see from Overhaul's prominent muscles that he's at least been afforded exercise and a somewhat healthy diet.]

Even when serving out life sentences in our world, although the prison system is corrupt prisoners have some semblance of rights and access to mental health experts. These rights aren't given in the BNHA universe.

Opinions on Overhaul's treatment and punishment vary, if you think he deserves all of this then that's fair. He abused and permanently traumatized a girl who is almost definitely younger than 10 years old.

However, you can also see he is almost certainly not neurotypical [which isn't a bad thing]. Overhaul growing up in the yakuza [who we know weren't doing well financially, even if they were that doesn't guarantee he'd get any help.] wouldn't give him much if any access to somebody who could diagnose and assist him. Of course, nothing justifies his crimes, they are only possible explanations.

If you believe that his punishments were overkill, then it's not hard to understand why. He was effectively tortured and thrown into a cell. Without the context of who he is and what he did, you'd pity him and advocate for his rights.

I can understand and somewhat agree with the people who say he deserves it, but maybe I'm biased since he's my favourite character.

I'd like to see others' opinions and any corrections to any mistakes I may have made. I'm not at all an expert on any of these topics, I was just interested and did my own research.

[writing-to-nobody]

Aftermath - I

Every night since Andy brought Annemarie to live with him, he’s woken up to the sound of her screaming. This morning, things are quiet.

Content warnings (this story): implied incest, suicide

Content warnings (rest of the series): ableism, abuse dynamics, gaslighting, referenced sexual assault, unwanted pregnancy, referenced torture, referenced miscarriage, gynecological exam, transphobic violence (recounting a past event, not in the present), domestic violence, mutilation with a knife

Part 2

Rating: T

Words: 1,299

Andy awoke in the middle of the night to heavy silence. He looked slowly around the dark room through half-shut eyes, as if he might find the source of the strange, choking feeling that had roused him. He took a deep breath, but the pressure on his chest didn't ease. 

With a groan, he sat up and scanned the room again. Nothing was obviously out of place, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. It was too quiet. 

At that realization, he stiffened. That was it. It wasn't what he did hear. It was what he didn't. 

His eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand. It was two hours to sunrise, and the house was utterly silent. 

He was on his feet so fast that the room spun around him. His stomach churned mutinously. He was halfway across the hall before the sick feeling in his gut sharpened into a wrenching, vomitous guilt. He froze, his hand stretched out toward the guest room door. 

He swallowed back bile before it could wet his parched tongue and let his arm drop at his side. He took a step back from the door. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face her. Not after what he'd done. 

He slunk back into his room, his whole body feeling hot with shame. Skin prickling, he crawled back into bed and buried himself beneath the sheets. 

He lay there, waiting for the sound that was already far too late. It didn't come. 

When the sun began to peek in beneath his curtains, he finally dragged himself back out of bed. 

He looked warily out into the hall, but it was empty. There were no signs that anyone else lived in the house. The door to the guest room was still shut as tightly as it had been two hours ago. 

He grimaced and turned instead toward the bathroom. He scrubbed his teeth until his gums bled. 

He spent the rest of the day listening for the slightest creak in the hall, or for the sound of a door opening. Anything. But all he could hear was his own heart. It beat an uneven rhythm in his ears and did nothing for his nerves. 

Pacing the halls, the sound of his shuffling socks against the dusty wood floor joined his juddering heart. Still, nothing from the hall. Nothing from that room. 

He was being a coward, and he knew it, but no matter how he berated himself, his legs refused to carry him back to that room. Where his body would not go, his mind insisted on traveling. Flashes of memories banged on his skull like unwelcome visitors and he could not turn them away. They hadn't let him be since…

He felt sick to his stomach again, but he hadn't eaten all day, so there was nothing to throw up. Coward. The word repeated in his mind again and again. Coward. Coward. 

He was outside the door again, arm half-raised to knock. His hand was shaking. He lowered it slowly. Squeezed his eyes shut. 

"Annemarie," he called, before he could think better of it. "Are you in there?" 

Silence. 

He didn't blame her. He hadn't been able to face her since that night. He'd heard her screaming every night at midnight, or shortly thereafter, but he didn't go to her anymore. He couldn't. His shame trapped him in his room and condemned him to listen: listen, and do nothing. 

This had been the first night of silence since he'd brought her to live with him. 

"Annemarie, I am—" He broke off. What was he going to do: apologize? Words couldn't bridge the gap he'd torn between them. He sank a sharp canine into his tongue and felt his nerves screech in protest. "You do not have to speak to me," he said. "I do not deserve it. I just want to know that you are all right." 

No response. 

The choking feeling that had woken him that morning tightened its grip on his throat. At last, his hand closed around the doorknob. It felt like ice against his sweating palm. Cautiously, he turned it and pushed the door slowly open. 

Time seemed to stand still. Or perhaps it only stretched out. All he knew was that an eternity seemed to pass before his mind registered what he was seeing. 

He couldn't move. His brain was screaming at him, but his legs weren't getting the message. Finally, after what could have been minutes or hours, he stumbled forward like a sleepwalker and dropped to his knees beside his sister's too-still form. 

It couldn't have been an easy death. Her chest was hollowed out like a forest after a wildfire, singed at the edges. Her eyes were hollow too: dark as bloodstains and rust-dull. 

He rested a hand on the side of her head, his fingers brushing rough, splitting hair. His thumb came to rest on her cheek, and she was dreadfully cold. 

Oh how he'd hated her, once. It seemed foreign now, that feeling that had once burned in his gut whenever she was around. Like a memory of a story someone else had told. She'd always been stronger than him. Faster than him. Cleverer than him. He'd resented her for it. 

He'd been glad when she'd disappeared. It had almost been peaceful, going about his day without the possibility of her turning up to spoil it. He hadn't questioned where she'd gone. In fact, he'd rather hoped she was dead. 

She wasn't, though. Oh, no. The truth was worse. He'd found out just how much worse the day her ghost found its way to his doorstep. She'd still been alive then, in a manner of speaking, but the sister he'd known was gone. 

He didn't know why he'd told their father. He didn't remember anymore. She'd begged him not to. Maybe that was why he'd done it. 

The months that followed still haunted him. 

He'd tried to do right by her son. It was the least he could do, he thought, after their father tossed her aside like the week's garbage. Oh, how he'd tried, but the boy had had too much of his grandfather in him, and before Andy could stop it, he was gone too. Violent lives, violent ends. 

He'd lived, if one could call it that. Then, he'd died. 

Then, somehow, he had found her again. The sight of her, chained to that pipe in that dark, dusty warehouse had nearly knocked him off his feet. With shaking hands, he had cut the snakes from her belly and carried her home. He'd sworn he'd never let her down again. He'd promised himself that. 

The night he'd made that dreadful mistake, things had gotten so confused. He hadn't been thinking straight. He'd only ever wanted to comfort her. He would have given anything to see that smug smirk he'd hated so damned much in life, or hear one of her obnoxious verbal jabs she'd always thought herself so clever for. 

He hadn't been thinking. 

He couldn't face her after that, and so, he'd left her alone. He'd let her down for the last time. No more chances. 

He bent his head, eyes stinging, and pressed his forehead to hers: blazing skin against ice. 

"I am so sorry," he said, now that it was far too late. "I am so—" 

There was nothing else to say. He knelt, and shook, and no tears came. 

Time passed. He didn't know how much. Then finally, when the cold numbness had seeped from her into him, he rose. 

There was nothing else to do, except to give her the burial their father had deemed her unworthy of. He'd failed her in every possible way. This was nothing. This was everything. All he had left to give.

[infiniteglitterfall]

Setting aside the entire problem of cherry-picking opposing examples to make a false point: Here's a really good example of people misusing "Zionists."

In this usage, "Zionists" obviously does not mean "people who believe that Jews, too, have a right to self-determination."

Instead, it's been handily repurposed to mean "Israelis" - on the surface.

Between the lines, it's even worse.

First, it uses "Zionist" to connote "brain-rotted," "out of touch with reality," "colonialist" violence. Violence which exclusively destroys civilian lives, paired with standard ableist "crazy killer" images.

At BEST, the way people steal and redefine "Zionist" means there are two kinds of Jews: Good Jews and Bad Jews.

Good Jews exist solely outside of Israel, and are vocally anti-zionist - i.e., accept the new definition of "Zionism," repeat disinformation, and play Token Jew by defending their friends with statements beginning "As a Jew, I...."

Bad Jews means everyone in Israel (despite the fact that a solid quarter of the country is not Jewish), and "anyone who disagrees with me" outside of it.

This has been obvious for as long as people have been using "So what are your views on Israel?" as a litmus test the moment they discover someone's Jewish. But it's gotten REALLY blatant since 10/7.

Second, the post above deliberately juxtaposes that with "barefoot resistance fighters blowing up tanks." As in Hamas.

As in completely erasing the fact that Hamas is not "resistance fighters," it's a terrorist group that staged a violent coup in Gaza in 2007 and has actively oppressed Palestinians ever since.

You cannot pretend to support Palestinians if you support Hamas, the organization that has denied them freedom of speech, of the press, of assembly, access to the justice system, elections, and more for 17 years.

It also deliberately erases the fact that Hamas is not barefoot. It now has a military academy, a naval commando unit, and a military budget of $350,000,000 from Iran. Per capita, that budget is comparable with Ukraine's and Iraq's.

And, obviously, that what Hamas is currently best-known for is not blowing up tanks. It's for carrying out a two-day-long massacre, raping, killing, and burning everyone it could, across 22 villages. It's for absolutely burning some of those villages to the ground. Like Nir Oz, where Hamas killed 25% of the population and utterly razed the place.

I am absolutely certain that someone out there will commit rape denial. Probably coming in with "blah blah imaginary dead babies" for good measure. So for the record:

"Yossi Landau, regional head of the relief organisation ZAKA, said that around 80% of the bodies at Be'eri and Kfar Aza showed signs of torture, and that he found "two piles of ten children each were tied to the back, burnt to death" at Be'eri.

A survivor who hid in a bush at the music festival described seeing terrorists searching for people to kill, and raping young women. "And after they raped them, they killed them, murdered them with knives, or the opposite, killed — and after they raped, they — they did that. They laughed. They always laughed. It's — I can't forget how they laughed on the — in this situation."

The evidence suggests that "dozens of Israeli women were raped or sexually abused or mutilated during the Oct. 7 terrorist attacks. According to first responders, one was mutilated with a pair of scissors and another stabbed with a knife. The genitals of some men who had been killed were mutilated as well...

"During interrogations, captured Hamas militants talked about raping women and children as a Hamas tactic of war. “To have our way with them, to dirty them, to rape them,” said one Hamas militant during a videotaped interrogation."

And "Haim Outmezgine, commander of a special unit of Zaka, which collects the remains of the dead, told The Sunday Times it was clear Hamas terrorists aimed to sexually assault women. 'We collected 1,000 bodies in ten days from the festival site and kibbutzim,' he said. 'No one saw more than us. It was clear they were trying to spread as much horror as they could — to kill, to burn alive, to rape … it seemed their mission was to rape as many as possible.'"

In that context, just the line "Zionists think leveling civilian infrastructure is commendable" should be enough of a red flag that this is disinformation.

Even discounting the fact that Hamas has a LONG, detailed history of deliberately using schools, mosques, and yes, hospitals, as rocket launch sites, weapons storage, and more.

Hamas spent over a billion of Qatar's money alone building a network of tunnels that literally undermines the entire infrastructure of the Gaza Strip, to the point of causing buildings to collapse.

Demanding that Israel finance the rebuilding of civilian areas - or better yet, that it split the cost with the Palestinian Authority, which supported Hamas - would be reasonable.

Holding Israel solely responsible for that destruction, while calling Hamas "barefoot resistance fighters," is absolutely not.

[gcballet]

GCBallet 2024

Top Ten Reads

Reviews with spoilers below!

If All The World and Love Were Young by Stephen Sexton

TW: grief, parent loss in childhood

An exquisite poetry collection in the pastoral tradition, the practice of elegeaic idealising of a long gone past. For Sexton, this past is not a mythic Greece filled with old gods, but his own childhood, when he played Super Mario World, and his mother was alive and well.

Sexton has such intent and purpose. The genre and form are so fit to the content it is breathtaking. Blending millennial nostalgia with the pastoral is such a wild and yet brilliantly insightful approach, and this is one of the single best realised collections I've ever read.

Preloved by Lauren Bravo

TW: grief, sibling loss

Probably the most normie book I've read in years, I even bought it from the Sainsburys bestsellers shelves.

A love letter to the British charity shop, and the inherent sadness of secondhand.

Thirty-something Gwen is coasting and unemployed in London, and finds herself volunteering a day a week in a local charity shop. Lonely and struggling to connect to anyone, being surrounded by the ephemera of other people's lives allows her to examine for the first time how she came to be alone, and find meaning in her life again.

Paris Adrift by E.J. Swift

TW: depictions of migraine/seizure type illness, alcohol abuse, addiction

A clever and tightly written time-travel saga, Hallie has abandoned her graduate geology career to bum around Paris, and ends up working in a bar neighbouring the famous Moulin Rouge.

She is approached by a haunting and mysterious woman calling herself the Chronometrist, and soon finds herself experiencing vivid, hallucinatory months long timeslips into 19th century Paris, in which she is compelled to alter history to save a distant future.

I rarely enjoy reading sci-fi, but Swift has such a clear vision for her narrative, a certainty with her imagery, and time-travel as a metaphor for addiction works so much better than I thought. Geologist Hallie slips into one fugue state in which she envisions a long fossilised ocean beneath the bedrock, it's haunting.

The Wild by Esther Freud

TW: toxic family systems, child neglect

This is kind of the only sort of novella a member of the Freud family could produce, one in which a nine-year-old girl is so desperate for a father and a family, she is triangulated into a toxic blended family, tolerating tiny humiliations in hope of being accepted and loved by her step-father and step-sisters.

Much of the narrative makes sense only if you're aware of the half-hearted hippie communes common to the bored middle-class of Britain in the 1970s, and have a decent instinct for feminist theory.

Sweetpea by C.J. Skuse

TW: graphic violence, genital mutilation, murder, torture, rape, violence towards children, sexual assault, pregnancy

This five book black comedy follows a somewhat different narrative to the recent SkyTV series adapted from it, and I suspect is significantly funnier for taking the form of a serial killer's confessional diary. Rhiannon Lewis has been described as a cross between Bridget Jones and Patrick Bateman, and I can't describe her better.

In Sweetpea, book one of the series of the same name, local paper reporter Rhiannon learns her long-term boyfriend has been cheating on her with a work colleague, she steadily plans a vicious revenge on him, and any predator or paedophile unlucky enough to cross her path.

As the TW suggests, this is an extremely graphic book from the first chapter. Skuse is an experienced YA author, and the Sweetpea series is her first foray into crime thrillers, not a genre I usually go for, but her plotting is tight and fast and escalating, and I can see why people who love crime thrillers commit to the genre. I suspect if I go looking for another Sweetpea, I'll never find it. It took me almost exactly two months to listen to all the Sweetpea audiobooks, and now I have no idea who will accompany me on my dog walks, if not C.J. Skuse, and her wonderful voice artist, Georgia Maguire (she does all the voices. She's perfect)

Jill by Phillip Larkin

TW: incel perspective, implicit paedophilia, stalking, classism

For the longest time, I couldn't work out what I was missing in Larkin's only novel published in his lifetime. The first third is happy to pretend to be a campus novel set in Oxford in the early days of WWII, in which our author-insert hero struggles with class division and seeks the approval of his upper class roommate. It's around the 40% mark that John Kempe suddenly discovers the lure of fantasy in his lonely routine, specifically the fantasy of writing letters to an imaginary teenage sister, and leaving them for his roommate to find, in hopes of seeming less dull and lonely. He continues to weave stories about Jill, and the campus novel briefly becomes a boarding school novel. The snap back to reality turns Jill into a haunting study of obsession, stalking a real teenager named Gillian who becomes the subject of his fantasies.

With modern eyes, it's obvious that John Kempe shares the same patterns as Nice Guys, Incels, and fiction-reliant fantasists. Larkin wrote Jill while at Oxford, so it's important to remember he is not John Kempe, though there are elements from his own life, Larkin is aware that Kempe is a fantasist. The single most fascinating thing to give context to Jill is that Larkin wrote his own lesbian boarding school novels under a pseudonym, and even roleplayed these stories by post. It's such a contrast to the jmage of Larkin as a giant of Modernist poetry. I can't decide if he was born in the wrong time (he would have an anime schoolgirl RP account of some kind), or if the man is timeless.

The Familiars by Stacey Halls

TW: pregnancy, birth scene, domestic abuse, infidelity, historic violence against women, animal attacks

Halls uses this excellent research to tell a story of two women becoming friends against insurmountable class boundaries, and trying to survive one of England's darkest acts of femicide.

Set during the Pendle Witch trials of 1612, Halls follows the imagined relationship between gentrywoman Fleetwood Shuttleworth, and one of the accused, Alice Grey. Halls only request for our imagination is to suggest these two historic figures not only met, but were friends, with Alice Grey acting as midwife to Fleetwood Shuttleworth. While there is no historic evidence for these women ever meeting, beyond geographic proximity, every other detail of the text is impeccably researched and accurate, everything from laundry bills to trips to London can be evidenced in real historic record.

(I live in Lancashire, and the stories about the Pendle Witch trials have always been around, though they aren't taught in schools. Best I can describe is something like a Jacobean Salem.)

The Tiger's Wife by Téa Obreht

TW: war and conflict violence, sexual assault, domestic violence, animal attacks

Disclaimer: I read this one much earlier in the year, and my recollection is a little fuzzy.

Natalia is a young doctor running a vaccination clinic in a Balkan village, and her journey through war torn countryside brings her to confront the legacy of her grandfather, a man fascinated by The Jungle Book, and the tiger held in a local zoo. His stories become hers, threading all the way back to a near legend of an unmarried woman protected by an escaped tiger.

The threads of the novel are so rich and dense, the kind of lore which feels eminently true to life. You do pick up all these hearsay stories from your family, and they do accumulate into this generational narrative, whether you ask for them or not.

I lost my own grandfather this year, and I know that like Natalia, I'm holding a lot of stories and secrets of his, which nobody else was ever told. There's a lot of grief books on this list, but it isn't deliberate.

Practice by Rosalind Brown

TW: explicit sexual content

I read a review of Brown a few months ago, which said the radical thing she does is write a story where the main character is completely content with where they are, nothing needs to change, they don't have a greater goal or drive, they don't especially learn anything about themselves, or really develop.

And yet, Practice is bafflingly, immensely compelling. Annabel is an Oxford student of English literature, and living that dark academia aesthetic life without any irony. The novel follows a day in her life during the Christmas term, as she plans and works on an essay about Shakespeare's Sonnets.

Brown must absolutely adore the sonnets, because each chapter feels just as self-contained as one. The vivid, restrained, and precise imagery evokes Shakespeare in every line. It's a flawless debut. It's the book I dream that I had written. I will be on my deathbed thinking, I wish I could claim Practice as mine. It's just perfect.

I knew Annabel. At one point, she breaks from her monastic focus and enjoys a tangent about the slash ship OCs she came up with, never once using any tumblr terminology, but it's clearly the fanfic instinct, and suddenly you realise that she is embodying this flawless, precise academic, but she is truly just a girl in love with academia and with Shakespeare, and chooses to live deliberately in a condensed, self-contented studyspo reality.

An Infinite Pull by Taylor Simmonds

TW: fantasy violence, minor body horror, descriptions of blood

What do you get if you mash-up Treasure Planet, Tangled, The Little Mermaid, and just a hint of Doctor Who?

My 15 year old self was waiting for Simmond's beautiful An Infinite Pull. Half a lifetime ago, browsing the corner of YouTube home to Non/Disney Crossover AMVs, that's where shipping Jim Hawkins and Ariel was first a thing. Simmonds does so much with the concept of grand steampunk spaceships, honouring the Treasure Planet sequels Musker and Clements were never able to give us.

I rarely treat myself to brand new books in print, but I needed a physical copy of this smaller print number release from this year. I'm so happy with it I'm reading it only a chapter a night to make the experience last as long as possible. Call it slowmaxxing. It feels like a story a long time in the making, and I hope Simmonds goes on to great success - there's only 40 ratings for An Infinite Pull on Goodreads and it deserves to be so much more widely read!

And that's a wrap on my 2024 book recommendations!

I hope at least one of these is something you hadn't heard of, or has caught your interest! Happy reading 🩷✨️

GCBallet

[olive-branch-witch-library]

Lightbringer Book 2: The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks

Series Warnings: SA, non-explicit smut, violence, slavery, sex slavery, classism (the main villain wants to put magic-users above non magic users), assassination attempts, body mutilation (someone loses fingers, the antagonists modify their bodies with magic), drug abuse, large age gaps (19 year old with ~60 ish year old, used as a political scheme), PTSD, identity theft, fratricide, ceremonial killings to prevent insanity, Politics, lots of creepy men, betrayal, cheating, torture, insanity

Book Warnings: SA, non-explicit smut, violence, slavery, sex slavery, classism (the main villain wants to put magic-users above non magic users), assassination attempts, body mutilation (the antagonists modify their bodies with magic), drug abuse, PTSD, identity theft, fratricide, Politics, lots of creepy men, betrayal, cheating, insanity

Notable POV Characters: Kip Guile, Gavin Guile, Dazen Guile, Aliviana 'Liv' Danavis, Adrasteia, Karris White Oak

Ahhh I'm so excited! The plot twists and cliffhangers keep getting better! And there's more characters that I hate with my whole being!

First of all, Andross Guile? Can suck my dick. I hate him and everything he stands for. He made his grandchild play him in a card game to keep his friend from becoming his slave. Same with Teia's old mistress. The bitch gave her olive oil as a reminder she could become a sex slave in a brothel?? They both need to die and they need to do it now.

Speaking of Teia though, there's a new color on the spectrum! Paryl is completely invisible to everyone except paryl drafters and maybe superchromats (people who have perfect color vision), idk I don't think it was ever really explained who can see it. It's below sub-red on the color spectrum, meaning in our normal world it would have really long wavelengths.

Most of this book surrounds Kip's Blackguard training, and oh my god I adore these kids so much. I just want them all to be happy forever but I know that's not possible.

While Kip does that, Young Gavin takes a bunch of refugees and places them on an island that already has people living there. I'm sure that won't cause any problems. Anyway, after he does that he kills Old Gavin! And gets raped because he thought it was his room slave 'attending' to him after being around Karris constantly for 4 months. And then he thought it was Karris. He like immediately feels disgusted when he learns not only was it neither of them, but it was one of his students and I'm pretty sure a minor (by our standards). He did kill her almost the moment he got back to his room after trying to explain what happened (and failing), but then it's like... never talked about again? And I really feel like it should have been. Male characters are almost never assaulted like this in fiction, much less one who has as much power as Young Gavin does. Maybe it gets talked about in a later book, since there is currently a war going on and he's desperately trying to get the Spectrum (government) to help. He could just be pushing it down at the moment to focus on stopping the thing that will literally destroy the world because there's also giant monsters and the villains are trying to resurrect old pagan gods to tear down the Chromeria.

But then he marries Karris (he does explain what happened there and that he's really Dazen)!! I'm gonna be horny on.. not main really but you get it and say that I really want to be in a sandwich between them. Like both of them are my ideal concept of a partner. Young Gavin is smart, incredibly charming, and doesn't shy away from pleasure, and Karris is such a fucking badass and I know she could 100% kill me in like 10 different ways just with her legs.

I know how I said in my last post the author does the male fantasy author thing where he sexualizes women a lot, and it genuinely didn't bother me. But in this book a lot of the women being targeted are either underage or just barely legal. And that makes me really uncomfortable. For the most part Kip is the one doing the sexualizing, which is again acceptable because he's 15. But in the case of other characters doing it it feels gross. And I know this is a fantasy world, and their definition of an adult isn't necessarily someone who's over the age of 18 especially because it's wartime, but I still don't like it.

But back to the positives, the cliffhanger!! Kip and Young Gavin are both kidnapped on ships by separate people! Young Gavin is now completely colorblind! Kip killed a god! Liv is still a bitch and I hate her!

[hopefulatrocity]

From The Ashes Prologue

Gif credit: hellodollfac3.tumblr.com

Note: This prologue hasn’t been proofread, if you find any mistakes let me know please! I’m looking for someone who might be willing to beta read the story if at all possible. Also, this story is going along with my experiences as a trans guy. Everyone’s transition is different. For me, I have little bottom dysphoria, so I use typical terms for AFAB genitalia when writing smut between my oc and Daryl. I also chose not to use HRT, which is how I wrote Pheonyx as well. In regards to passing, I write sometimes about Nyx having some more “feminine” aspects to his appearance, because this is an issue I have with passing in public. If any of these things are a trigger for you, please proceed at your own risk. Take care of yourselves, lovelies! Remember, every trans person transitions differently and I’m simply trying to portray my experiences as a trans guy.

If you would like to be added to a taglist for this story, please let me know!

Summary: Pheonyx Greene is the oldest of the Greene siblings. He’s always been different than the rest of his family; having endured abuse from his biological father as a kid and growing up as bisexual/transgender in conservative rural Georgia. He loves his family but the past has made him weary of strangers and love. He finds himself on the family farm recovering from top surgery when the world falls apart. As the dead begin to rise, Pheonyx finds himself becoming the sole protector of the farm as his family lives in denial about the Shadows of loved ones past. His life is changed the day Rick Grimes shows up on the farm, and shortly after a certain gruff archer as well. Daryl is drawn to younger man but how does he deal with the internal prejudices he’s grown up with? As the search for Sophia ensues, Daryl is forced to group up with Pheonyx. Will he push him away? Or will Daryl allow himself to put the past aside and let Pheonyx in? 

Series Trigger/content warning: Homophobia/transphobia/biphobia, zenophobia/racism/sexism(Merle), age gap romance(11yr difference. Pheonyx is 28, Daryl is 39 ), sexual assault/rape, child molestation, canon character deaths, body mutilation, child abuse, torture, hunting, smut 18+( P in V, unprotected sex(please practice safe sex!), creampie, breeding kink, rough sex, marking/biting, oral sex, sub/dom undertones), animal deaths, scars, blood, corpses, depression/anxiety, body dysphoria, religious trauma, menstruation mentions

Chapter Content Warnings: Transphobia/biphobia, religious trauma, child abuse, depression/anxiety, childhood molestation, self harm/suicidal thoughts, puberty, bullying, menstruation talk, body dysphoria, sexism 

Next Chapter

Pheonyx Greene spent the majority of his childhood hiding. So much so, it became second nature to him. 

From the day he was born to the age of 8, he hid from his father’s fists and hateful words that he didn’t understand. Words he wouldn’t understand for years to come. Bruises and lashes were concealed behind baggy clothes. Practiced smiles and rigorous play with neighborhood kids disguising the pain of every movement. His mother, Annette, would stare at him with guilt. Guilt for not having seen the abuse for 5 years, not wanting to see what was going on when she wasn’t home. Guilt for not noticing the flinches at innocent touch. And guilt for letting it continue as she worked to pull away from the monster that held them under his thumb. She never spoke of it to Pheonyx. Simply holding him after each “punishment”, silently cleaning his wounds and wiping his tears. That silence hurt worse than the switch on his back. His eyes begged for just a word from his mother. Something to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That she was there for him or that she was going to do something to protect him. But those words never came. Annette gave birth to his brother, Shawn, when he was 6. 2 years later, they finally escape Pheonyx’s hell. The scars littering his body and the night terrors were always a reminder that he never fully escaped, though. 

At 8, Pheonyx no longer had to hide from his father, but he had to hide from other things. Schoolyard bullies tormented him. They asked him why he only wore jeans and long sleeves? Why did he play with boys instead of the “other girls”? Why did he cut his hair short using the scissors in art class? Why did he roll around in the mud while the girls were playing House on the other side of the playground? They would pull his pants down in the cafeteria, laughing about checking to see if he was a boy or a girl. It confused him. Why did it matter? Couldn’t he just be himself? But apparently it did matter. He would spend his entire schooling years, hiding from those bullies. 

     At 9, his mother married his stepfather, Hershel. He was a nice man. Much older than his mom, but he accepted and adopted, both Pheonyx and Shawn. He had a daughter, only a year younger than Shawn who had just turned three, named Maggie. Her mother died shortly after giving birth to her. While devastated about the death of his late wife, Hershel was strong and took on the role of a single father. He and Annette met at the local grocery store. A wailing Maggie in his arms, Hershel was trying to find the right formula product for his growing daughter. Annette was a godsend, taking Maggie and calming her before helping the man find the correct food for his daughter. They exchanged numbers and were married not many months later. The way Pheonyx’s stepfather tells the story, the older man fell for Annette the second she held Maggie in her arms.  

    Hershel was a good father to both Maggie and his stepsons. But Pheonyx was weary of the man at first. His only father figure was a devil of a man and the young boy waited for months for the other shoe to drop. It never did though. He would purposely break dishes or get bad grades at school, just trying to see what would be the final straw before his step father finally punished him. But aside from a small scolding and increased chores for his bad grades, Pheonyx was left unharmed. Hershel was kind and he treated his step children as if they were his own. He would often take the boys on house calls with him, whether it be helping birth a newborn calf or checking a swollen ankle on a neighbor’s gelding. Pheonyx loved the animals and looked forward to any time he could spend helping Hershel with his duties as a veterinarian.  The only thing Pheonyx hated about the man was how devout Hershel was. Pheonyx went from never going to church, to going every Sunday and Wednesday. Plus attending all holiday functions, youth group trips, and bible camps. He had lived in true hell for 8 years. The Christian version seemed like child's play compared to his father’s belt. It was at the church he also had to hide. Hide from the side eyed glances of older neighbors. Hide from the whispers wondering why he refused to wear a dress or why he didn’t act like a “proper young lady”. He had to lie when his mother asked why he didn’t want to attend Sunday School with Shawn and Maggie. He couldn’t explain that the teacher looked at him with evil eyes. That the man’s hands were cold as he slipped them under Pheonyx’s button up blouse. That the touches made him feel worse than when his father would make him kneel and count the lashes. 

When Pheonyx hit puberty, around the time his half sister(Beth) was born, he began to hide within himself. How did he explain to his mother and stepfather that the sight of his budding breasts made him want to claw his own skin off? How did he explain that when he got his first period, he contemplated taking all of his mother’s antidepressants and putting an end to the feeling of wrongness in his body?  How did he explain that everytime someone called him “miss”, “sweetheart”, or “girl”, he felt physically sick? What would he say when his mom knew that he kissed Caroline Allen under the maple tree at school? That same week he also kissed Jeremy Mason by the soccer field. Both of those kisses made his stomach flutter in ways it only should with a boy.  The preacher that previous Sunday had told them that any desire for people of the same sex was the ultimate sin. How did he explain to his mother and stepfather that, in their beliefs, he was destined to go to hell? He couldn’t. So he hid everything. The depression from not feeling at home in his body and from not being able to be himself at home. The anxiety of not fitting in with southern conservative values. The disgust with his own appearance as he let his hair grow and wore dresses to get his mom to smile. The weight of it all became too much. 

Maggie found him one day, crying in the barn, a razor held to his wrist. The 20 yr old thought Maggie would be mad, but she wasn’t. At just 13, the girl was wiser than most adults. She had seen her sibling struggling. She didn’t understand it, but she listened as Pheonyx explained what was wrong. Maggie held him as he cried and led him to the house. There, she helped Pheonyx cut his hair. The cut was jagged and patchy, as all they had were some dull kitchen scissors, but he loved it. She called him her brother and it felt like the cloud of depression and anxiety disappeared for a short amount of time. It was the first time Pheonyx felt truly accepted. That night, Maggie held Pheonyx’s hand as he told their parents and siblings everything. Beth was mostly too young to understand and Shawn was just confused. As were Annette and Hershel. They tried to tell him it was just a phase and that it was normal to be confused at such a young age. They refused to even consider the possibility of him being a boy. Of God having made a mistake when he was forming the child’s body. Despite their non acceptance, Pheonyx felt freer than he ever had. He had been working for 5 years at local horse stables and also as an assistant for Hershel at his clinic, so he used his savings to buy more masculine clothing. Maggie was the one who suggested the name “Pheonyx”. The meaning behind it felt right to him. From that day forward, he went by Pheonyx Archer Greene. 

The years following were rough. Maggie accepted him, never once misgendering or dead-naming him. But the rest of his family continued to have issues with it. Shawn and Beth picked it up faster than his parents. It took 3 years before the older couple even began to come around to the idea of Pheonyx being trans. They consistently pushed him to go to Church, to repent, or to go to “counseling” with the local preacher. This created a divide between the family and Pheonyx, one that still existed even after his parents began gendering and naming him correctly 75% of the time. 

He lost his innocence the day he turned 22. His body, that he had finally begun to love, became a broken shell. A layer of grime covering his already marred skin. No matter how hard he cleaned or tore at his skin, the filth never disappeared. The state of Georgia was suddenly a prison. The rolling pastures and never-ending forests that were once home suddenly held memories he needed to escape.

Once his physical body healed, Pheonyx took the first flight out of the Bible Belt and landed in Michigan. He took shitty jobs just to get by at first. Long hours with little sleep just to avoid the memories that haunted him at night. Solace came in the form of a friend, another trans guy that frequented the diner Pheonyx bused tables for. Small talk became long conversations over burnt coffee. The other man offered him a job at his tattoo shop, Zombie Ink, as a receptionist/custodian.  From there, he healed. Slowly. He had more nightmares and more scars than before but his skin finally felt clean.

He kept in touch with his family, but he avoided visiting. The memories were still painful. It took 6 years for the man to finally gain the courage to go back to his home state. His impending top surgery being the motivation to finally put his demons to rest. He would need some help after his surgery, and truth be told, he missed his siblings. Even his parents. So, he opted for a surgeon closer to his hometown. Afterwards, he would spend the next month healing on the family farm. Pheonyx didn’t realize that by making the decision to put his nightmares to bed, he was changing the whole course of his life. 

Maybe it was fate that brought him back home just shortly before the world collapsed. Or maybe it was just shitty luck. Pheonyx wasn’t sure. All he knew was that everything changed. 

Next Chapter