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eryiss · 3 months

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[Fraxus] Multifaceted - Part 1

Or: The 5 Times Laxus Learned of a New Skill Freed Possessed, & The 1 Time He Fell Victim To Them

Summary: For the rest of the world, it had been seven years. For the members of Fairy Tail it had all been in the blink of an eye. But, for Laxus, that was more than enough time for his closest friend to seem like an entirely new person. This self assured, competent Freed was something new to Laxus, and he found himself enjoying it. Perhaps a little too much… Note: I’m back, probably only for this and then I’ll slink away again. It should have a new chapter every other day. Hope you enjoy. Links: Ao3, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

1: Cooking

Laxus was practically a dead man walking as he approached his apartment building, and wanted nothing more than to collapse onto a bed and sleep for the rest of the week. He couldn't, of course. When he and Freed had been forced to move into an apartment with only enough space for one bed, they'd decided they'd alternate each night on who got to use it, and who had to make do with the armchair. Freed was generous, but he wasn't so generous to give up the bed for a whole week.

God, Laxus missed having a bedroom to himself.

But when you're wiped off the face of the planet for seven years, and your bank decides your dead and absorbs your assets, you don't get to be picky. The jobs coming into the new, barely surviving Fairy Tail were not good. Whereas previously its members had been comfortable financially, they now all had to scrimp and save. Hence, sharing a tiny apartment with Freed.

It could have been worse; a lot worse. He and Freed had always gotten along well, and after a long talk on the boat back to Magnolia's shores, they had an understanding. Things had changed a little between them; Laxus had been humbled after the harvest festival, and Freed had come into his own. He seemed comfortable in his skin in a way Laxus hadn't seen before. He'd always been in control and able to dominate the room the moment he walked in, but now he made it look effortless. Like he was walking with his head held high not because he felt the need to, but because he felt no need not to.

Living together was going well, that was all. Laxus did wish they could afford a better place, and as he trundled up the stairs, he wished they'd found a place on a lower floor.

He forced the door open - it was stiff on its hinges - and it took a second for the scent to hit him. Rich and indulgent meat, thick and butter ladened potatoes, a cluster of vegetables all with the char of a grill, and the slightest whiff of red wine filled the room. After a month of eating bread and the occasional piece of fruit on his mission, the hit of flavour could have made Laxus weep.

"Ah, you're here," said Freed, looking over his shoulder from where he stood at the kitchenette, stirring a pot of something. "I was hoping you'd be back soon. I was a little preemptive with the vegetables."

"You cooked?" Laxus asked, dumping his duffel bag on the floor.

"It seems so, yes," Freed nodded, raising a ladle of cabbage to prove it. "How did it go? Did you get paid this time?"

"I did," Laxus shoved the door closed, half tempted to collapse into the armchair. He stank, though, and if he remembered correctly it was Freed's turn to sleep in the chair. It'd be a dick move to make it reek before Freed had to deal with it. "The guy tried to negotiate the price down after it was over, but I think I scared him."

"Wonderful," Freed hummed slightly. "I can see why no other guild will take them."

The only worthwhile jobs that Fairy Tail had gotten recently were S-Class and A-Class jobs that the bigger guilds would not post. They saw Fairy Tail as desperate and willing to overlook certain issues, some of which consisted of underpayments from the job poster. They clearly had forgotten how Fairy Tail functioned; the guild had always been paid in full, even if they needed to throw a few punches to get it.

"Yeah, it's ridiculous," Laxus agreed, deciding to take a seat at the tiny, rickety dining room table that had come with the apartment. The chair was uncomfortable on a good day, but not being on his feet was too heavenly for him to care. He took a moment to sink into his chair, and watched as Freed opened the oven, taking a steaming dish out. God, the smell! "You seriously cooked?"

"Yes," Freed said as he placed the dish onto the counter. He looked at Laxus with amusement in his eyes. He was so much more open with his emotions now, it was nice. "Why does that shock you?"

"I never knew you could. You used to make Bix do all the cooking on missions."

"Yes, well," he reached for a spatula and broke the surface of whatever was in the dish. "I had always wanted to cook, but for some time I didn't allow myself to learn. I saw it as a frivolity, or something… indulgent. I had other things to deal with."

Other things being Laxus' stupid ego trip, no doubt. "You mean the harvest festival?"

"Among other things," Freed waved off. "When you were gone, I had time to spare, and eventually picked up a cookbook. I got rather good at it, I must say. Though admittedly I had a more generous budget then. But, I've quite enjoyed the challenge of stretching myself. Hence: cottage pie."

He scooped a large pile of meat, veg and potatoes onto a plate. The rich scent that filled the room was drool inducing. "It smells amazing. Don't know what exactly it is though."

"Minced beef, onion, carrots, peas, a few herbs, salt, pepper, a sauce which for the life of me I cannot pronounce the name of - don't you dare tell Bix or Ever, they'll be insufferable - and a dash of red wine. And mashed potatoes on top, obviously," Freed filled two plates with the food, bringing them both to the table. A bowl of mixed vegetables quickly followed, and the already opened bottle of red wine - the cheapest Laxus has ever seen Freed purchase - was placed between them before Freed sat down. "Enjoy."

"I will," Laxus promised, and it wouldn't be a difficult one to keep.

He forked a generous amount of the food and bit into it, a groan of pleasure slipping out before he could halt it. It was simple food, and would have been easy to turn your nose up at if you were a pretentious dick, but it was amazing. The flavours felt exaggerated and brought to life, thick and heavy and so rich.

Freed's eyes were clearly on him, waiting for a verbal confirmation as to the quality. Laxus felt like his partial moan should have told him, and as such didn't rush to swallow. It had been months since he'd had a good meal, and he intended to savour it.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Freed huffed when Laxus immediately went to take another bite. Laxus grinned.

"What?"

"You very well know what," Freed snapped, watching the forkful of food, daring Laxus to try and bite into it. Laxus didn't say anything, but cocked up a brow to prompt Freed. Freed complied. "Validate my ego, you tedious man."

"Hm," Laxus hummed. "I don't know if I've had enough of it yet to come to a fair judgement. Hold on."

As Laxus took a very performative mouthful of food, Freed watched him with a decidedly unimpressed expression. He took a bite of his own food, which he finished significantly quicker than Laxus had. He watched silently as Laxus finally swallowed his second forkful of food.

"Maybe one more bite."

"I think I might actually stab you."

Laxus laughed, slowly placed his fork down and leant back in his chair. Freed faux glared at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Honestly, it's amazing," Laxus said, dropping the joking tone. "I genuinely don't think I've eaten anything this good since I was kicked out of the guild."

"There's no need to exaggerate."

"I'm not, this is amazing," Laxus assured him, watching as Freed started to eat his own food properly. "I'm not gonna pretend that I ate well for any of that time, but this is still so much better. Honestly, after the last couple weeks, this feels like the best meal I've ever had."

"Well then," Freed sniffed slightly. "Don't let it go cold."

Laxus complied, and the two ate their dinner in silence. The food really was amazing, and as cheap as the wine was, it felt like a luxury. All thoughts of collapsing into bed when he got home had been forgotten; this food was a much greater indulgence. That was why Laxus had no qualms about running his finger over the plate, licking it clean.

Freed must have seen that, because he wordlessly took the plate off Laxus and walked back to the counter. As he piled another serving on, Laxus complained that he could have done that.

"As if I'm letting you near my cookware," Freed huffed. "It's the only thing worth a damn in this place."

"What about our friendship?" Laxus teased, leaning on his hand with a smirk.

"Oh don't be tedious," Freed rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

In that moment, with Freed standing at the counter, serving the fruits of his labour, with a small smile on his face, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair tied back, Laxus realised something. Something he'd never considered before, but in that moment felt entirely obvious. Freed was a very handsome man.

Huh. That was something to think about.

But not at that moment. He had a second helping to devour, and he wasn't going to waste it on the weird fluttery feeling in his chest.

#fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy Tail #fanfiction #Writing #Multichapter #canon compliant #Word Count: 1.6k

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neoyorzapoteca · 30 days

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It’s clear that I’ve been (home-)schooled in the tradition of Audre Lorde’s warning: Your silence will not protect you. Her complex essay “The Transformation of Silence Into Language and Action” is often quoted as a way to encourage both victims and witnesses of injustice to speak out, with the implication that speaking out will result in a change in conditions. It can, and sometimes does. But this is not what Audre Lorde promises. She does not say that speaking out will protect you or anyone else from violence—she emphasizes instead a kind of double vulnerability. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t: “I have come to believe over and over again that what is most important to me must be spoken, made verbal and shared, even at the risk of having it bruised or misunderstood. That the speaking profits me, beyond any other effect.” Here, even if speaking fails to redress injury, it has a liberating value for the speaker herself. But the word “profits” makes me nervous in my own case: like the literary men I discussed earlier, do I profit from speaking at someone else’s expense? I’m hyper-educated and white-passing; what do I have to resist? Is “what is most important to me” important to others? I hear how the torrent of my talk can cut others off at the pass and scatter the fragile questions flocking in the air. Maybe my preemptive resistance to being silenced has become its own kind of violence. In The Argonauts, Maggie Nelson notes how “words change depending on who speaks them”; so too with silence. Since silence is relational, it registers differently in different rooms. The two places I feel freest to let my voice run wild in its “natural range” are at play with Caribbean women and at work with white men. In both cases I feel sure I’m not drowning anyone out; I better scream not to drown my damn self. But it’s another matter in more “integrated” environments—the seminar on colonialism, the cocktail party for the magazine’s special issue on African fiction—where I can’t help but hear the faultlines creak in polite tones, my ear tuned tight to every note of condescension, defense, correction. I try to listen: for the various volumes at which we’ve been pitched by our individual and collective histories, for what my brown voice in its white body will do here. What will it amplify. Who will it echo. How will it be quoted. In whose name. On behalf of what. Yet still I struggle to stem the anxious, desiring torrent of constant comment that rises in me. In striving for a Zen perspective, Lydia Davis wonders: “how does a person learn to see herself as nothing when she has already had so much trouble learning to see herself as something in the first place?”

On the Perilous Potential of Feminist Silence ‹ Literary Hub

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ariadnesweb · 11 months

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In contrast to the first movie, The second spiderverse movie places a lot of emphasis on Miles's Puerto Rican Heritage:

We are introduced to his universe while Miles is protecting a bodega, eating refried empanadas

The background music during this introduction seems to be inspired by the Bomba genre of music, in which dancers keep the beat to the drum.

The main victim of Miles's double-life as Spider-man seems to be his grade in Spanish, as he presumably skipped out on the language he was already familiar with. This is Very Much to his mom's dismay, as Miles's spanish is littered with spanglish.

(It's not that big of a deal, Rio's spanish is also mixed with spanglish, though it's very much a cultural pride thing.)

Rio's main conflict with Miles is that he's growing up away from her, moving away from Brooklyn, very much living a life she doesn't totally understand.

Rio herself lives in a world defined by familial relationships, in which she's brought to talk preemptively at Aaron's funeral by her family (though she would rather wait for Miles's to be there beforehand). She expects Miles to continue the family heritage and pride, and is confused at the idea that he would have to play up the American Dream Myth to get accepted into his chosen university, despite his own middle-class background.

Miles himself is gathering up the courage to break it to his mom that he is his own person, defined by his double-life as Spiderman, and not necessarily in line with her expectations of him.

Miles's own antagonist throughout the film is the alternate universe spiderman, Miguel O'Hara, a mexican and irish man who created and leads the Spider Society.

Miles slots Miguel in as another 'uncle/dad/older brother' parental figure in his life, ala his dad, uncle Aaron, Hobbie, and Peter B., calling him 'tio'.

Your Mileage May Vary on how Miguel connects to Miles culturally, since his main beef with Miles is tied to what 'Spiderman' represents, but I personally find him reminiscent to my own Cuban stepfather, as an older educated man who found his own place in the world at the cost of a lot of harsh life experience. Both his strength and tragedy is shaped by the loss of his 'old world' upon a new one, as well as personal experience with armed violence. These experiences have shaped Miguel to believe himself the 'lone atlas' holding up society, and whose principles as 'The Man' are to be imposed on the younger generations following him (ie, Miles).

(Miles's victory over Miguel is very much to Not Follow His Example, to carve out his own personality and family for himself.)

The movie ends with Miles-1616 being confronted with his world 42 self - a version of himself that didn't become Spiderman, and instead, followed his uncle's footsteps to become the Prowler. Coincidentally, this version of himself has a 'cleaner' spanish pronunciation of his own last name, with shorter vowels and softer sounds.

(Not to downplay Miles's Black Heritage - his relationship with fellow black teen Hobbie Brown is vital, as well as the smaller relationships like Miles & Spider-Byte.) (Or Miles's Brooklyn connections that connect him to New York specifically.)

(Or to stop anyone from relating to Miles and his difficulties becoming his own Spider-Man.)

#spiderverse #Across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse #why so many tags?#Anyways Latino Infighting Real #meta #soilai's labyrinth

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specterthief · 1 year

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so i just finished utena and it rewired my brain, as it does, and as i was watching i noticed some things:

i tweeted about this, but like. i already knew enough to have the impression before watching the series that there was probably a comparison to be drawn between maruki and akio but i can't get over the fact that the exterior shot of his palace looks like they just combined the staircase around the elevator to the dueling arena and akio's planetarium (which are really one and the same already) into one thing

and the whole nature of the planetarium, and what that reveals—that akio was always being dishonest about his work, that the planetarium wasn't about the stars as he claimed to endear himself to utena (and as it holds meaning to anthy, who says she wants to stay in the planetarium rather than see the stars outside in the real world) but about projecting the "fairy-tale illusions" to control the people within his walled garden—the same could be said about maruki's laboratory, and what's revealed about him. using cognitive psience to treat trauma was always a minor part of his goal. for a very long time—back to before he even first awakened his powers and used them on rumi—he wanted more than that, to preemptively control people deemed likely to commit crimes. controlling the cognition of all humanity was his expressed goal—a mission he thought he was chosen for by a god—before he had any idea that the phantom thieves would inadvertently grant him that much power. he can't even deny it when akechi accuses him of brainwashing sumire for his own self-satisfcation, merely argues that the ends justify the means if his reality is better for everyone. the "treatment" of sumi's specific trauma by destroying her real identity (and her being driven to such desperation that she'd attack the person she loves to stay in the false reality rather than face the truth) is just a byproduct, an experiment toward a greater end that places him in a position of godhood, of ultimate power to change the world in his image. to create his own garden of eden.

like, fuck, this certainly sounds familiar:

even on a more surface level—a member of the school faculty who's in the position with an ulterior motive, who the female students find extremely attractive (seriously, it's wild how often NPCs comment on maruki's looks or having feelings for him throughout his entire tenure at shujin—one even remarks on how good he looks in white.) a seemingly benevolent character who has a pre-established relationship with a young girl who's both the greatest victim of his schemes and violently devoted to protecting the fantasy he's created, who singles out the protagonist and bonds with them over time far more closely than would be appropriate for their positions, who uses that bond to try and achieve the power to change the world, only for the protagonist to refuse every temptation and take that power back...

and even looking at other symbols—in utena's duel with kanae, akio's fiancée (and the reason for him being in his position at ohtori,) she's surrounded by bouquets of white lilies that are identical to the one ella carries:

while in kanae's final appearance, she's shown catatonic as akio and anthy feed her apples—

—and apples are something that come up in relation to maruki constantly, whether the obvious presence of them as the fruit of eden in his palace (up yet another spiral staircase that resembles the path to the dueling arena):

or more prominently in the final boss fight:

or in his character art:

or references in various scenes, like in this bit of foreshadowing about making ryuji's "wish" come true:

or at more length with sumire:

and as the apples in utena can be compared both to the forbidden fruit of eden and the poison apple eaten by snow white, sumire, like kanae, is seen rendered unconscious (in a throne befitting a princess) in maruki's palace:

and despite her more obvious connection to cinderella via her persona, she has a weapon referencing snow white:

akio's obviously a much more overtly sinister character, as well an openly predatory one (which, to be clear, i definitely do not think is a supported read of maruki's actions in canon—manipulative, dishonest and terrible with setting appropriate boundaries with his teenage patients yes, acting with any legitimately predatory designs on anyone no) but the similarities are still striking to the point that they seem like they could be intentional, and i just wanted to try and get the coherent thoughts i had on all of this down in one place

and it is known both from statements from the guidebook interviews and from early content left in the final build of the game that significant amounts of maruki's story and palace were changed very late into development with the intention of making him more sympathetic and his deal more tempting, so i do wonder if this connection might have been even more clear in an earlier iteration of royal's story (though given they did have concerns about making him sympathetic from the outset, i don't think it's likely he was ever intended to be as clearly villainous as akio)

#mine #long post #persona 5 royal #revolutionary girl utena #meta #but not really #just a lot of rambling about similarities that might be coincidence and also might not #third semester brainrot #there are so many other random details just connecting to utena stuff in general that i could have gone on about #but i think this mess is long enough #utena brainrot

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carbo-ships · 7 months

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Ghouls' Night Out

Word count: 7816 [AO3 link] Co-authored with @limey-self-inserts! We answer the age-old question: "What if the ghouls had to drink blood?" There is biting. Lots of biting. This was so fun.

Papa Emeritus IV sat at his desk one Spring evening, his calendar laid out next to the latest Farmer’s Almanac. He flipped ahead to October preemptively then checked the small book to confirm his suspicions. October 23rd – a Monday this year, he noted with a bit of relief. Saturdays were the worst. How could he be expected to preach the following morning? He scribbled “Hunter’s Moon” in the designated spot in the calendar, circling it for emphasis. It was still a few months away, but it was time to start preparing.

The astronomical event was an annual source of headache for Papa. It was the one day of the year when the ghouls could not hold back their demonic tendencies. They became antsy, aggressive – even feral, at times. The only way to bring them back to their mostly-civilised selves was to let them fully indulge in their urges when the moon was high in the sky.

Simply put, they needed blood.

In Secondo’s days, the effect of the Hunter’s Moon had merely been a rumour. It was something the ministry very effectively kept under wraps. His ghouls would corner any curious church members they found wandering the church hallways after nightfall, take what they needed, and either send them right back to their quarters or, in Sodo’s case, occasionally keep them around for the night. It had been fairly discreet – the marks on their necks were easily hidden by the habits and high collars. Most siblings of sin never learned about the details of what happened those nights, and those that did were seldom believed. Popular opinion suggested it was nothing more than a ghost story meant to prevent new church members from wandering around after curfew.

Papa Terzo had changed all of that. His ghouls and their tendencies should be celebrated, he’d argued, not hidden in some dark hallway after-hours. No, they deserved a night of proper entertainment. The first year had been informal and chaotic. With Terzo’s blessing, the ghouls had rounded up any willing soul they’d found wandering the halls of the church that October evening and chased them down in the woods outside the churchyard like a pack of hungry wolves. It was fun, but the aftermath was messy. Word had gotten out and whispers circulated among the congregation. The next year, Terzo awoke to a crowd of willing victims waiting at the door to the ghouls’ den. He had to intervene for the sake of keeping the peace and preventing any accidents. In the years following, a system had been established – this took some of the fun out of it, Sodo always complained, but the ministry insisted it was necessary. There were sign-up sheets, consent forms, and medical checks to ensure those selected were physically fit for the task. Sister Imperator refused to have anyone bleed out just to entertain the band. It was the time of yearly reminders that “church members on blood thinners are not permitted to participate, regardless of how badly you want Mountain or Cumulus to manhandle you, as you will die”. The shortlist of viable applicants was then passed along to the ghouls, who collectively decided upon how many they would invite, and who they would be.

This was Papa IV’s second year managing the chaotic event. Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator had handled it during the period of sede vacante until the mitre and its responsibilities had been passed to him. He’d heard quite a bit about the evenings from Terzo and Secondo when they had still been around, enabling him to handle the first year with relative ease. It was more of a nuisance than anything else – excessive paperwork, a night of no sleep, and hours spent on edge as he tried to anticipate any potential mishaps. If it were fully up to him, he would sack the idea altogether. However, he knew the congregation would call for his immediate removal if he so much as suggested depriving them of the opportunity to have Sodo’s fangs in their neck.

This year presented an additional hiccup that he hadn’t foreseen – Aether, and his relationship with Ardis. He was fully committed to her, and he had expressed a bit of anxiety regarding this year’s hunt to Papa behind closed doors. There was nothing inherently romantic or sexual about the hunt, they both knew, but it still didn’t feel right. Papa was about to suggest that he invite Ardis to join the pack of volunteers, but the idea died on his tongue. The thought of his angel being hunted made him uneasy. They would have to find Aether an alternate means of making it through the night.

Papa was still ruminating over their options when Ardis came to visit one June evening. Aether had been doing some essential maintenance on his guitar, so Ardis joined Papa in his study to wait. His desk was littered with papers – waivers and medical reports with little notes scribbled all over them. The angel asked him about them, and after hesitating, he explained with no small amount of discomfort. Ardis listened attentively, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. “We didn’t feel it was appropriate for Aether to participate this year, given how the congregation tends to interpret these things,” he assured her when he’d finished.

“Then what’s Aether going to do?” she asked, concern on her face. “He needs it just as much as the others do, doesn’t he?”

The man sighed. “We’re… still trying to figure that out. But rest assured, we’ll come up with something. It’s still a few months away.”

Ardis held her tongue for a moment before speaking up again. “Does it have to be a human’s blood? Or would an angel’s be good enough?”

Papa nearly dropped his pen in surprise. “Wh– Ardis, are you sure? I’m not sure you understand what you’re offering, cara.”

She steeled her resolve. “I care about him. I don’t want him to suffer just to protect me.”

It took ages to convince Papa, but he finally yielded, saying that it would be up to Aether. That night, when Aether and Ardis were cuddled up between his sheets, Ardis brought the topic up. The ghoul, similarly, was stunned into a brief silence by her offer. Initially, he shut it down. He couldn’t possibly do that to her. Wouldn’t she be scared of him? Didn’t she know how much it would hurt? However, Ardis wouldn’t back down. Didn’t he need this? Weren’t they a team? He’d requested the night to think about it, and when sunrise came, he relented – under certain conditions. No one else was allowed to bite her, for starters. He trusted the other ghouls with his life, of course, but not with hers. Second, she had to pass the same health checks as everyone else who signed up. He wasn’t willing to take any risks. And finally, she needed to know that she could change her mind at any time. He would arrange to have some blood bags on standby. She was never under any obligation to continue. She agreed without complaint. It was decided. Ardis would join.

The fateful Monday came quickly. The ghouls were noticeably jittery when Ardis arrived that afternoon, their tails flicking side to side in anticipation. Aether kept Ardis close by all day. He was already feeling guilty about what he knew he’d do to her in just a few hours. Some protectiveness and gentle touches ahead of time would cushion the blow.

As the sun began to set, the couple made their way out to the church’s back garden toward the gate that led to the woods. A few people were already there, waiting for the event to begin. Aether’s hand rested heavy on her shoulder, gently tugging her in closer to his side. Letting go would take some effort on his part – he knew what would happen next, what would be taking place, what he was going to do. Of course, they’d both talked this over, assured each other that it would be fine. She’d said yes. It was going to be okay. He just needed to keep reminding himself of that.

Off to the side, the rest of the ghouls were gathering together. Cirrus leaned over to Sodo, murmuring something that made him sputter and laugh as Cirrus shook her head, while Sunshine rolled her eyes (still with a smile too). Swiss and Rain were in heavy debate, Petrichor looking up at them both and interrupting with a comment that made all three grin before Rain tugged Pet in closer to nuzzle the top of their head. The air of excitement rolled heavy through them all, watching their volunteers gathering. Aether joined them, catching their attention and briefly pausing the conversations bouncing back and forth. His fingers squeezed on Ardis again, and she hooked her own grip on his shirt. It was going to be okay.

“I’m going to see you later,” Aether murmured, turning them both so he could lean down to nuzzle her forehead. The tickle of his beard prompted a small giggle from her, and another blossom of warmth rolled through his chest. “I’ll come find you, okay?”

“Of course.” Trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks, Ardis found her hands being quickly taken by Petrichor, who gave Aether a cheeky wink and tugged Ardis along towards the group of mortals. Aether stood tall again, watching her go with a pang in his stomach (Affection? Hunger? Both?).

“Very cute,” Sodo purred. “What happens if one of us finds her first?” He raised an eyebrow, sending him a mischievous grin. He loved getting under Aether’s skin.

“You won’t.” Aether’s voice hit a new low growl as he fixed a glare on Sodo. “And if you do find her first, you’ll let her go, understood? The mortals and Pet are all free game, but Ardis is mine. She’s my prey. Got it?”

There was a brief pause of surprise and reflection, before the other ghouls began to voice their agreement, Sodo holding his hands up and stepping away. It was rare to see this side of Aether. There were few things he took more seriously than his devotion to Ardis. A grin reappeared on Sodo’s lips. The poor girl was in for the night of her life.

Ardis, blissfully unaware of Aether’s newfound aggression, looked up at Petrichor in confusion as they led her to the cluster of church members who had been selected as the evening's prey. "Aren't you hunting with the others?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. A couple of the church members were eyeing the ghoul in confusion too, but they gave a casual hand-wave.

“Oh, no, I’m on the meal list tonight too. You’re all off the hook,” they added to the volunteers, prompting a bubble of laughter from them all. Spirits were high, as was the nervous excitement. Returning their attention to Ardis, they continued, “It’s a thing between Swiss, Rain and I…okay, mostly Swiss and Rain. Basically they get a kick out of chasing me down and they’ve had this tally running for who can catch me first. This is like the, uh…the main display, since whoever catches me tonight gets the first bite.”

Knowing that Aether would be hunting her down was enough to give Ardis chills. But the idea of having two ghouls with their undivided attention on her sent a downright shiver down her back. Swiss was…Swiss. Rain was quieter but she knew well enough that quiet didn’t mean gentle.

“Aren’t you scared?” Ardis asked.

“Nah. See, I have this thing where I try to hunt them both down in return,” Petrichor replied, a wide grin spreading across their lips. Their wings shimmied, stretching out to their fullest, the feral mania that Ardis had spotted on the other ghouls showing clear on their face. All the ghouls were hunting tonight.

Pulling her hands in close, Ardis glanced out into the woodland beyond. Not everyone had arrived that had been approved from the volunteer list, which meant plenty of time to mull over the events to unfold. She trusted Aether more than anyone, but she was still nervous. Papa had been very reluctant to let her participate, after all. That alone was making her have second thoughts. The anticipated pain was also enough to make her face pale. She’d silently admired those imposing teeth of his on more than one occasion. It had never occurred to her that she’d find herself with them buried in her neck. She drifted in and out of her worries, occasionally picking up on chatter from the other volunteers as they discussed their plans or confessed who they not-so-secretly hoped would be the one to catch them. There were about fifteen volunteers in total, Ardis guessed, perhaps more – mostly women, but there were a few men as well. Some were dressed in their usual uniforms, while others looked like they were ready for the gym. They all looked as giddy as children on Christmas morning. She remembered Papa saying just how sought-after these few positions were.

Ardis was finally pulled from her thoughts when Papa approached her group, clipboard and pen in hand. He’d come to check the roster, ensuring that everyone was present and that no one had decided to tag along without proper authorisation. He called out each person’s name, making little tick marks as he went down the printed list. His heart still sunk a bit when he reached Ardis’s name, written in at the very bottom. He took a deep breath, pushing his nagging thoughts to the back of his mind. This was no time to show weakness. If Ardis could handle this, so could he.

Papa gathered both groups together by the outer wall’s gate once he’d confirmed that everyone was present. The dark forest loomed over them. He cleared his throat and flicked to another sheet on his clipboard. “Va bene, ascoltate,” he said, calling everyone’s attention. The excited chatter fell silent, and everyone listened obediently. “Let’s go over the ground rules before we get started. First, anywhere in the forest is within bounds – this extends from this wall, to the main road a few miles west of here. I don’t think anyone has ever made it quite that far, but if you do, turn back. Second, you all should have received a white cloth, yes? No? You need to go get one. If you need to tap out, you will tie it to your wrist and make your way back to the starting point. If you are lost, ask a ghoul. They will escort you before going back to their hunt. And finally, when you get back here, make sure you check in with me so I can keep track of who’s still in the woods. Then see the nurses in the sanctuary. Bene?” Everyone agreed. This had all been on the forms they’d signed. “Good. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” one of the new volunteers spoke up, slightly raising their hand. “What happens if they can’t find us?”

A few of the ghouls chuckled, clearly amused by the notion. “Oh, we will,” Sodo said, a dark grin on his face. The newcomer paled slightly, while some of the other volunteers giggled excitedly.

“You’ll get a fifteen-minute head start,” Papa reminded those who would soon be hunted. “The church bell will ring three times when those fifteen minutes are up. Then the ghouls will be on their way. We’ll start in just a few minutes – eight o’clock sharp.”

When Ardis finally took her eyes off Papa, she found Aether’s boring into hers. There was something unfamiliar and primal in his gaze. It made her feel warm from head to toe. Papa approached her, taking her attention back off of the hungry ghoul. “Are you sure about this?” Papa asked her quietly.

Ardis nodded. “I’m sure. It’ll be okay, Papa. I promise.”

He sighed. “Okay. But remember, if it’s ever too much, you can always change your mind.” He gently kissed her forehead. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Ardis, Petrichor, and the humans lined up at the gate. She could feel Aether’s eyes on her, but didn’t dare glance over her shoulder. She feared she would lose all her resolve if their gazes met again. It was nearly time. She could do this. As the seconds ticked down her group fell nearly silent. Papa cleared his throat to give the final countdown. “Three… Two… One…” The clock tower struck eight, and the volunteers all took off into the woods.

“See you soon!” Swiss called after them mockingly. Ardis did her best to ignore the chuckles from the other side of the gate as she pushed forward. The ghouls’ excited chatter soon faded into the distance. She and the others followed the dirt path for a minute or two until it disappeared, then all peeled off in different directions. Ardis was feeling a bit confident – she’d been practising her cardio a bit over the summer to ensure that Aether would get a decent hunt in. She would hate for him to wait all this time only to catch her the minute he stepped out of the gate. Traversing through the woods became more difficult as the brush became thicker and the last rays of sunlight faded. Twilight settled upon the forest. That alone was enough to dwindle her confidence. She was, admittedly, a little afraid of the dark. However, she did her best to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she put distance between herself and the church. She’d never been in these woods before, and had no idea how deep they went.

After some time, she paused to catch her breath. It had been a while since she’d seen or heard anyone else. She wondered how long it had been since they’d started. As if on cue, far in the distance, the chapel bell rang out through the woods thrice. The sound was haunting. It felt as if the entire forest held its breath for a moment. Picking up her pace again, Ardis focused on weaving through the trees, trying to stay fast and careful. There’d be no help to her if she accidentally left tracks or potentially tripped over a tree root. But knowing that the ghouls were out there now, that Aether was coming after her – it made her head feel woozy from the adrenaline.

A small rustle grabbed her attention, and under the moonlight a shadowed figure glanced back over, eyes reflecting empty white. Had the ghouls somehow made it this far into the woods already? Ardis reeled backwards, holding back a shout of fear, only for Petrichor to raise a finger to their lips before racing out of sight again. She heaved a sigh of relief, steadying her footing and collecting herself before taking off running again.

By the time dusk had settled over the forest, Sodo had already struck gold. He’d sent a sibling back to the gate with wobbly legs, puncture wounds in their neck, and a slap on the ass. After basking in the adrenaline for a moment, Sodo paused and took a moment to smell the air… Not much. The humans would still be hard to track this early in the night, he reminded himself. They hadn’t quite worked up a sweat yet. Sodo listened for any signs of movement as he moved deeper into the woods, trying to ignore the ambience of the forest. A faint rustling far off in the distance caught his attention, and he crept in its direction to investigate. Someone was walking slowly, carefully, trying to stay quiet as they manoeuvred across the forest floor that was covered in a thin layer of crisp fallen leaves. It was properly dark now, making it much easier for him to move about undetected. He could see fairly well in the dark – those he was hunting could not. Sodo found a suitable hiding spot behind a small evergreen and lurked in the darkness, waiting for his victim to pass by and come into view. Minutes felt like hours as he waited there in the shadows. Finally, they were close. The ghoul readied himself to pounce, then– “Shit,” he huffed under his breath. It was Ardis. All that stalking had been for nothing. The angel jumped at the little sound he made, looking around frantically in the dark for its source. Her gaze landed on two glowing eyes just a few feet behind her and she clapped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

“It’s just me, dove,” Sodo said gently as he stepped into a patch of moonlight that had filtered through the canopy above.

Ardis let out a heavy sigh of relief, her heart still pounding in her chest. “Heavens, Sodo, you scared me,” she whispered back.

His moustached lip formed an amused grin. “Mi dispiace. I didn’t realise it was you. Don't worry, I know the rules. Not even a nibble.” With one hand raised, he made a show of crossing his heart. She quickly looked him up and down as his bare skin caught the pale light, then suddenly became very interested in the ground. Sodo chuckled. He supposed this was likely the first time she’d seen his bare chest. “One less thing to launder in the morning, that’s all,” he explained dismissively. “Aether has likely done the same. Speaking of, you’re still in one piece. I take it he hasn’t found you yet?”

She shook her head. “You’re the first person I’ve seen since this started, aside from Petrichor.”

“Mmm, of course.” Sodo glanced about, head tilted as he almost seemed to sniff the air. Trying to find another source of warmth to go after. He stepped across through the puddles of moonlight that were streaming from above, and Ardis’s heart took another jump through her chest. She thought it’d just been the shadows of branches, but Sodo’s face, neck and chest were thoroughly streaked with black. The smell of iron wafted in his path as he paced past her, returning back to the treeline.

“Safe hunting, uccellino,” he called back over his shoulder, just before he vanished out of sight. Ardis took a moment to calm her nerves, which proved difficult. She clearly wasn’t as far ahead of the ghouls as she anticipated, especially if Sodo had already stopped to feed before he stumbled upon her. At least she hadn’t been the first volunteer to be caught – that would have been embarrassing. She could only pray that Aether had started his search in a different direction. Either way, outrunning the ghouls was clearly a futile endeavour. Her best bet for postponing the inevitable was to hide, she decided. Perhaps Aether would tire himself out if he had to search long enough and she’d get off easy. Armed with a plan, she made her way deeper into the forest.

Toward the southern edge of the woods, Petrichor lied in wait high up in the treetops. They listened carefully to the various footsteps that occasionally reached their ears, noting the gait, the speed, the volume. They were waiting for something in particular. A longer stride than Rain’s, lighter footsteps than Aether’s, faster than Sodo. Petrichor had learned to identify Swiss based on sound alone. Before much longer, the telltale signs of the multi-ghoul sounded in the distance. They peered into the darkness and just barely made out a silhouette there among the trees. Petrichor silently slinked out of their hiding spot, scaling down the trunk with ease. Swiss’s size would be his downfall. It offered him strength that vastly surpassed theirs, but it also meant he couldn’t sneak through the forest nearly as easily. The anticipation was making them a bit giddy. The hunt was on.

The leaves of the trees hadn’t all fallen quite yet, so they hadn’t gotten a very good look at their new target through the branches. However, with how loud the ghoul had been, visuals were hardly necessary. They crept towards where the sound had stopped, expecting to find Swiss pausing there to contemplate his next move. However, when they peered out from behind the tree they’d selected for cover, Petrichor found themself alone. There was no sign of him anywhere. They were confused. The footsteps had undoubtedly travelled this way. And knowing Swiss, he wasn’t stealthy enough to sneak off undetected. Petrichor sniffed the air for a moment, hoping that his musk would tell them which way he’d gone. They certainly knew the smell of him well enough. Instead, they caught a whiff of a different, although still familiar, scent on the wind.

It was too late. A slender arm wrapped around Petrichor’s waist from behind as a hand covered their mouth. Rain’s scent filled their lungs as they gasped. Petrichor heard a low chuckle in their ear as they were dragged back, colliding with Rain's chest. They fought against him, but their feet weren’t able to get proper traction.

“I’m surprised that worked,” Rain grunted as he tightened his grip on his prey. "I didn't expect you to be so easily lured out of hiding."

Grunting against the back of Rain’s hand, Pet squirmed hard, trying to flex their wings to break the other ghoul’s grip. It worked – Rain forced to loosen their grasp around their waist – but not well enough. Spinning them around, Rain took out their feet with a well-placed hooked kick to the ankles, the ground following up to punch them in the back. Petrichor coughed hard, feeling the sky and woodland roll around their field of vision as Rain crouched over them. One hand dug into their shoulders, his weight pressing them down into the dirt, the other covering Petrichor’s mouth once more.

“Shh, shh, let’s not get a crowd gathering,” Rain purred, leaning down towards his still-wriggling prey. “I want to surprise Swiss when we come back to the church and he realises I found you first, and trust me when I say the look of frustration on his face will be just as delicious as yo–”

He stopped. Petrichor also went still, breathing heavily against his hand. Rain abruptly sat up, looking around the woodland. Footsteps, getting closer, getting louder. Seconds too late, Rain realised what was about to happen and tried to brace himself. But Swiss barrelled into him without hesitation, knocking the leaner ghoul off Petrichor and the pair tumbling over each other. Petrichor quickly rolled to the side, out of the danger zone, but still laid on the ground mesmerised as the two ghouls wrestled each other furiously. Rain was doing his best to flip Swiss over and try to pin him down with his own weight, but Swiss was out-doing Rain’s best efforts purely on strength alone. Hisses spat back and forth between them as Swiss clearly showed signs of winning this contest.

Seeing as they were distracted, Petrichor quietly hopped to their feet, remaining crouched over. How amusing it would be for those two to go through all that effort only to realise they’d disappeared back into the woods. Turning, they sprung up and - a hand grabbed their ankle, dragging them straight back down with a nasty smack to their chin.

Swiss perched on Rain’s chest, sat fully on the other ghoul who was growling and gasping for breath interchangeably. One hand was tangled in Rain’s hair, keeping him pressed down. The other was gripping tight to Petrichor’s leg. He yanked on them, dragging them across the ground, claws climbing higher and higher as Petrichor tried to roll away but to no avail. Soon Swiss’s hand was gripping on their thigh, the pinned ghouls in a messy pile laying over each other and under his toothy smug grin. His eyes were wide, chest rising and falling heavy with each adrenaline-filled breath. Looming over them both, he settled a clawed hand on each sternum.

“So, which one of you wants my teeth in their neck first?” Swiss teased, his tail flicking back and forth in amusement. Neither ghoul volunteered, only glaring up at Swiss and at each other. Rain clearly blamed Petrichor for getting him pinned on his back, and they blamed him right back. “Perhaps my little pipistrello? I’m not sure I trust you to stay put while I show Rain who’s in charge, feisty little thing that you are. Best to subdue you quickly.”

He started leaning toward Petrichor’s neck, but they quickly stuttered something out to stop him. “What if– What if I proposed a truce?” A plan was formulating in their mind. It wasn’t too late. There was still a way out of this.

Swiss gave them a strange look, pausing and pulling back slightly. “What do you mean? You’re not tapping out, are you?”

“Of course not,” Petrichor scoffed, a mischievous look in their eye. “I just think you’d have an easier time with Rain if you had some help. You know how he gets.”

A hungry gleam flashed in Swiss’s eyes as he grinned. “An interesting proposal.”

Rain’s eyes widened. “What? Hey!” He unsuccessfully made another attempt at pushing himself off the ground, only proving Petrichor’s point. “I found them first, you bastard! No one should be biting me at all!”

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind the help holding him still,” Swiss chuckled, easing himself off of Petrichor to free them. The very moment he released them, Pet pivoted and lunged for Swiss’s neck. “Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t!” Swiss laughed. Moving in sync, Swiss’s hand left Rain’s throat just in time for him to help Swiss effectively pin Petrichor back into the dirt, a swift claw digging into their shirt and ripping it open. Before Petrichor even realised what was happening, Swiss’s fangs had embedded themselves in their neck. All the breath left Petrichor’s lungs at once. They struggled for a brief moment, but it was useless. Swiss’s grip on their hips was unfailing, and Rain had their arms immobilised. Swiss’s laughter rumbled against their neck, making Petrichor’s mind go foggy for a second. He took a satisfied gulp then pulled back, their blood trickling down his chin. “You’re so predictable, cucciolo. Trying to double-cross me? Really?”

Petrichor opened their mouth to answer, but the words stopped dead in their throat when Rain suddenly bit down on the opposite side of their neck. They winced, their head swimming. This hadn’t gone as they anticipated. Their goal of making it out of the woods without getting bitten had clearly backfired. Swiss quickly brought his lips back to their neck, determined to get his fill before Rain drained the smaller ghoul of everything they could handle. His tail instinctively wrapped around theirs, intertwined in the dirt while the air lifted the sound of eager drinking and cloth tearing further under Swiss and Rain’s hands. Petrichor let themself stop struggling and closed their eyes – it was pointless, and only made them dizzy. The boys had won. Pet would never admit it, not wanting to seem like the giddy mortals who waited with bated breath for the opportunity to find themselves in exactly this position, but they really did enjoy this. Swiss and Rain’s undivided attention, the sheer knowledge that both men had done nothing but look for them for the past hour… Petrichor could appreciate that, maybe more than was healthy.

Before long, the men decided they’d taken all they safely could and released the winged ghoul, letting them slowly down to lay on the ground. Panting slightly, Swiss sat back on his haunches. “So, that’s a point for me, then?” he chuckled.

Rain wiped his mouth with his wrist, just as breathless as he halfheartedly glared at Swiss. “Fuck you.”

He let out a sharp laugh, reinvigorated, and turned his attention back to Petrichor. “Better luck next year,” he tutted, carefully scooping them into his arms to settle in his lap. He cradled their head, holding them close as he waited for their eyes to peek back open. “There you are,” he cooed, “that’s it. Come back to us.” He pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead, leaving a small red stain behind.

“I’ll get you next time,” Petrichor chuckled weakly, words briefly slurring together. “Both of you. You’d better sleep with one eye open.”

“Whatever you say,” Rain said with a gentle smile. “Come on. We should get you back. How do you suppose Ardis is faring?” he asked Swiss. At the question, Petrichor promptly began to cackle softly.

Ardis, at that moment, was still creeping through the forest toward the northern edge. She’d heard more than one scream that night that had filled her mind with pure fear. She was desperate to find a proper hiding spot, and one soon revealed itself to her. A large moss-covered boulder sat among the trees, lifting out of the earth at one end to provide a small shelter. Ardis carefully slipped under it, deciding to wait there for the time being. She’d draw much less attention to herself if she remained still – her footsteps hadn’t been nearly as quiet as she’d hoped they would be.

A rustle of branches startled her, heart jumping up high. Glancing up to, what she expected, the sight of reflective ghoul eyes, instead Ardis recognised the sweaty face of one of the church members who had been at the starting line.

“Oh, shit,” the mortal murmured. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ardis said hurriedly, hands raised. Any talk seemed too loud right now. Despite the mortal being out of breath, she wore an excited smile.

“I’ll leave this hiding spot to you,” she whispered, giving Ardis a thumb’s up. Her head abruptly snapped up, something in her peripheral catching her attention. A nervous giggle erupted from her chest and she bolted, disappearing back into the undergrowth.

For a moment, silence again. Ardis stayed as still as possible, waiting for whatever had spooked the mortal to pass her by. It did not.

Sweat beaded her palms. The waiting started to dig into her muscles, sending them trembling. Had the ghoul snuck by? Had it been nothing? She couldn’t stay hiding here forever, she had to know. Cautiously she wormed her way out, crouching down beside the large rock.

Aether’s shadow loomed. Blocking out any ambient light within the woods. Her heart dropped to her stomach. All Ardis could see of him in the moment were the relatively small glint of moon shimmer from his pupils, his gaze burrowing into her. His breath clouded the air as he let out a heavy huff.

And then he started walking towards her. She knew Aether, she knew how he moved, the way he swaggered to perform and how he pressed through the corridors with his muscle and how he was ultimately, always, gentle despite it.

This was just hunger.

She told her legs to run, but they didn’t respond. She could only stare up at him, frozen with fear as he stalked toward her. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. Suddenly, he surged forward, pinning her to the forest floor beneath him. She let out a little yelp of surprise, the impact jolting her out of her trance. Squirming, she fruitlessly tried to escape his iron grip. She’d always assumed he was strong, solely based on his size, but this was the first time she’d experienced his full power first-hand. Every fibre of her being was screaming at her to break free, but it was impossible. He was an experienced hunter twice her weight, and gravity was on his side. This close to him, she could see the sanguine hunger in his cold stare. She was no longer his darling little angel. She was his prey.

He leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. The chuckle that rumbled in his bare chest sent a chill down her spine. A whimper escaped her throat as he gathered both of her wrists in one massive hand and pinned them to the cold earth above her head. His other hand tangled into her hair to tilt her head to the side, baring her neck to him.

“Well, well, well,” Aether purred, his voice deeper than she’d ever heard it. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. The fear she felt was primal and instinctive, as though she’d been pinned by a bear rather than her boyfriend. It was at times like this that she remembered he was a demon. “I admit, you lasted longer than I anticipated.”

His thumb scraped over her neck, finding the point of her pulse racing just below. Even that, the claw tip razor hot against her senses, made her flinch and gasp.

“Isn’t this so cute?” he murmured, trailing his hand down towards her collarbone. “You, helpless before me. Your heart racing for me. Isn’t this just…right?” Back up again now, along the underside of her jaw, his claws marked an invisible path that sent shivers up her back.

“Are you scared, angelo? Is this scaring you?” His head tilted to the side, leaning back enough that she could see his face. The teeth glinted in the faint light, as did his eyes.

For a few seconds, it was soft. Still Aether. Still her boyfriend. The breath caught in Ardis’s throat was released.

“A little,” she replied in a whisper. “But not too scared.”

Aether smiled, little and sweet. And then the hunger rolled right back in, his grip on her wrists tightening as he pressed up against her fully, making her yelp. He’d never been this rough with her before.

“Good,” he purred against her ear. “Fear makes it so much sweeter. The first bite. The blood. All the adrenaline and excitement and expectation – there’s always fear.” Her breath stuttered, another gasp falling free as she felt his teeth now, the graze of sharp points pricking at her skin. “Do it, my angel. Submit to me.”

His voice rolled down towards Ardis’s chest, her face truly ablaze and every limb trembling as he held her higher. Trying to steady herself, she opened her lips to speak, found them far too dry to form a word, and spluttered over the choked sentence. Aether let out a low growl, hand cupping underneath her chin to make her look him in the eyes.

“Yours,” she blurted out. “I’m yours.”

Aether grinned, so very hungry, and his eyes seemed to take on an extra glow as they widened with feral glee. Pushing her head to the side, he lunged down without further delay, biting through skin immediately. The pain was abrupt, causing Ardis to cry out, if only she’d had breath still to make a noise. Instead she writhed, the pain turning into a warm numbness that spread up and down her neck. Her halo glowed bright in place of a pitiful scream. Aether held tight to her waist, keeping her still as he drank. The heat of his tongue lapped over the puncture marks in her neck now, cleaning up stray droplets before he turned her head to the other side and bit down once more. The second time around wasn’t as startling and a little less painful, but just as breathtaking. A strange feeling of ecstasy started to pool in her chest. Ardis stared up at the night sky through the tree branches, somehow far too aware of how Aether’s teeth were buried in her shoulder, wondering how it was that the stars were brighter and floating more loosely than normal.

Someone was talking. Her shoulder was empty again. Her hands were down by her sides. Ardis hummed quietly, feeling a relaxation through her muscles that had been duly missed for a long time. The fact her body was responding this way punched another flushed heat through her neck and face, she’d just been bitten for crying out loud! Twice! She tried to lift her hands to hide her face as if that would hide her from the embarrassment, but her arms simply refused to move. Someone was talking again, a hand propping up her cheek.

“Ardis?” Aether cooed, his voice gentle and laced with concern. “Mi angelo? Talk to me.”

“Don’t look at me,” Ardis mumbled back. “Please, that was so… I’m embarrassed. I didn’t expect to like that.”

Slowly Aether relaxed his grip. That was his angel – so shy, so resistant to showing expressions of affection. And if she was blushing this much, then she still had enough blood in her. Although…oh yeah, he was going to need to apologise for ruining her shirt when she was more aware of her surroundings.

“Let’s get you back to Papa,” he murmured to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead and to each side of her neck. The ghoul carefully took her into his arms and stood from the forest floor. Her head slumped against his shoulder, her breaths warm and soft against his neck. “We’ll get you patched up then have a little cuddle. How does that sound?”

She gave a weak little hum of agreement. Thinking was too hard right now. She couldn’t even register the pain of the bite marks anymore. Everything was hazy and blissful. She was sure she’d be unbelievably sore in the morning, but that didn’t matter. For now, she was warm and comfortable and safe against his chest. She idly wondered if this was what being drunk felt like, but the thought left her mind just as quickly as it arrived. Aether praised her effusively for her performance as he walked – eluding him for so long, how bravely she’d taken his bites. In the twenty minutes or so that it took them to return to the gate, Ardis had regained some of her mental faculties – just enough to hide her blushing face in Aether’s neck when she saw Papa.

“How is she?” Papa asked apprehensively. “Is she alright? Did everything go okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine,” Aether assured him. “She’s just petite. I think getting bitten by a ghoul my size may have knocked her out a bit harder than I’m used to. She’ll need a little while to fully recover.”

The man let out a sigh of relief, checking them both off on his list. “Good, good. Get her checked out for me, and take good care of her. I’ll come check on her later tonight if she’s still awake.”

There was further rustling of undergrowth, a trio of ghouls flanked by a couple of church members with white cloth on their wrists and one with a giddy smile and blood on their shirt. Aether quickly recognised Swiss and Rain, with Petrichor mostly collapsed on Swiss’s back as he carried them along, Rain keeping a hand out to steady the smaller, blood-drained ghoul. Petrichor’s shirt was gone, probably the ruined tatters that Rain was carrying, and instead now Swiss’s shirt covered them up and showed off his wiry musculature. The one bit of confusion though:

“Rain, please” Papa said, a mixture of amusement and frustration tugging his face into a reluctant smile. “Please go inside and put some trousers on.” The question was there, glaringly obvious and begging for an answer. Rain shrugged, leaned across to kiss Petrichor on the forehead, and then headed through the monastery door. Swiss sidled up towards Aether and Ardis, Petrichor catching her eye from her hiding spot in Aether’s neck and giving her a wide, blood-stained grin.

“You two had fun,” Swiss teased.

“...Yeah, we did,” Aether replied, tilting his head to kiss the top of Ardis’s head and prompting her to hide her face even deeper. “So did you three.”

“We had to stop and get a snack on the way back, but I think it was very good.”

“Who won?”

“I did, of course.”

“Cheat,” Petrichor droned out behind Swiss.

“Once Rain is properly dressed and has had an extra bite himself, we’re going to take this one inside, pop a blood bag in them, and then go get a little clean together,” Swiss said. Aether hummed quietly, stepping back to talk to Ardis more privately.

“Would you like that?” he asked her. “To go get a bath?”

Ardis sighed. “I know I should, but I don’t know if I have the energy right now.”

“I’d bathe you, tesorina, don’t worry,” Aether assured her. “It’s my fault you’re a mess in the first place.”

It felt as if all the remaining blood in her body had flooded to her cheeks. “I– I, um, I don’t know…” she mumbled.

Aether gave her a sympathetic smile. “Let’s get you patched up first. Then we’ll see what our options are.”

Since Rain had excused himself to go make himself decent, Swiss and Aether made their way inside to have their victims inspected by the nurses who were stationed there. The physicians were armed with everything necessary to manage the bites – even prepared to stitch up any wounds that punctured deeper than intended – but also for any other injuries one might acquire out there in the woods. Scrapes and twisted ankles were common. Aether carefully set the angel on one of the examination tables, and Swiss set Petrichor on the other. The nurses examined the bite marks while Aether avoided their knowing glances. Swiss always handled this part with more grace than he did. Aether felt embarrassed to have others appraising his work, whereas Swiss took it with a sense of pride.

Ardis got cleaned up and released before Pet – the ghoul had a number of scratch marks that needed assessing. The nurses handed Aether some gauze and bandages, reminding him how to dress the wounds properly after she’d bathed for the night. He thanked them, shoving the supplies in his pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Aether said to the other pair as he scooped Ardis back into his arms and started down the hall. The effects of the bite were slowly wearing off, much to Ardis’s disappointment. She’d found herself enjoying the warm, foggy bliss which was gradually being replaced with real thoughts. Isn’t this so cute? You, helpless before me? It made her blush again. “Are you still doing okay?” he asked her as he turned down the hallway that led to his bedroom, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, my, um… my brain’s just starting to work again, that’s all.”

“Ah,” Aether stuttered out, seeming to understand what she was getting at. He imagined she felt a bit embarrassed about everything that had occurred that evening. His cheeks flushed as he thought back on those moments with her pinned beneath him. “I, uh, I’m sorry if anything I said was too… uncouth. I got a bit carried away,” he admitted.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I’ve never seen you talk to your dinner like that before.”

He let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, my food seldom looks or tastes as good as you did tonight.”

That was enough to make her go completely silent.

“Now, about that bath…”

#carbo writes #THAT WAS SO FUN THIS IS SO LONG #THANK U LIMEY I HAD A BLAST

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sorcerobe · 2 years

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Post Mortem

I really do not like to talk about my relationship with my ex, my accuser, because I refuse to let what I went through define me, but the truth is that it was an abusive relationship and I was the victim. My ex was demanding and controlling and repeatedly berated, humiliated, and isolated me. She broke down my psyche over years until I was unable to make any decisions or take any actions without her explicit direction. I was completely reliant on her to tell me what to do and completely unable to think for myself. It got to the point that shortly before she left me, I couldn’t even select a youtube video to watch together without bursting into tears from the stress of having to make a decision and the worry that she would judge me for it. I would spend hours in the bathroom just crying and trying to put myself together to face her in a positive way. she repeatedly manipulated and controlled my behavior with threats of breaking up, self harm or even suicide if I didn’t conform to what she demanded of me.

I moved to a country where I knew nobody and didn’t speak the language just to be with her and keep her safe. She wounded her hand and went to work without stopping the bleeding, got so drunk that she vomited and collapsed in a public bathroom and very nearly jumped in front of a train if not for my begging her to reconsider over the phone. This was when I promised to live with her. I took care of her cats for two years. I spent hours thoroughly cleaning our apartment every day at her request. I cooked meals for us almost every day. I did all of this gladly, I was genuinely glad that I was with her and could do these things for her. But my efforts were never enough and lead to constant berating by my ex.

I have a skin condition that makes me break out in hives in response to humidity and she was convinced that I was actually covered in an invisible fungus and was spreading it over the apartment despite a total lack of evidence of this, and to combat this for months alongside cleaning she required me to take multiple daily showers and spray myself all over with hydrogen peroxide, which is a mild bleaching agent. I think the period where I was doing this has caused permanent damage to my skin, but I went along with it because I wanted her to feel safe.

She was convinced that everyone in our friend circle was one step away from “betraying” her at every turn. Even the most innocuous actions would be interpreted as proof of this and nothing I could say or show would convince her otherwise, and she did her best to preemptively destroy any friendship I had because of this. This is not even to get into the way she tried to take over my career. I could fill pages and pages with anecdotes but it’s pointless. At this point people will believe what they believe.

When her career in Japan didn’t pan out because she was too sick to work, we moved back in with my family in Toronto. My parents were growing concerned with the relationship as they could see what it was doing to me, but they made every attempt to accomodate her needs and were nothing but helpful. I loved her and tried to do everything I could to be what she wanted but I just wasn’t able to do it. I wasn’t able to quit my career as a game developer as she demanded. I wasn’t able to abandon all of my friends & family as she demanded. These were all things that she saw as a requirement for us to continue our relationship, and ultimately they were why she left me. And, as best I can discern, because I have still not abandoned these aspects of myself, they are why she continued to try to quite literally ruin my life. She wanted to ensure that fight knight never came out, she wanted all of my years of work to amount to nothing to prove to me that I was nothing without her.

It’s been over two years since we separated, and almost a year now since she made her accusations in an attempt to ruin the launch of my game. unfortunately her actions opened a lot of old wounds that had only just begun to heal. I know her to be someone who never lets go of a grudge to anyone who she believes wronged her, and in her mind, truth doesn’t seem to matter, as long as people “get what they deserve”. And she’s surrounded herself with people who enable that behaviour and never push back on it in any way. I can identify this easily because I used to be one of the people in her circle doing just that. I don’t hate those people. I understand the situation they’re in. They want to believe that she is a good person, that she’s just had three decades of incredible bad luck and all she needs are some real friends to turn her life around. I wanted to believe that too, more than anything. I put my life on hold for almost three years and gave her everything I had to try to prove that to the world.

I genuinely don’t want anything bad to come her way. I hope she gets the help and support she truly needs to move on from this and I hope she finds happiness. But this is not that. This is pure vindictive malice. It’s completely unjust and wrong. I am a flawed human being like anyone else on the planet but I did not do the things she accused me of, and she knows this. I have proven that she’s lied repeatedly about everything she claims about me. She repeatedly opportunistically changes her story in ways that contradict herself and the evidence to try to keep up this charade, and she knows she’s lying, but she doesn’t care, she thinks I deserve this anyways.

Well, I don’t deserve it. I refuse to bend even a single degree to the pressure of people with nothing better to do with their lives than to try to ruin mine. I am innocent.

Thank you for reading.

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sokkastyles · 11 months

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This claim that it was actually the gang that abused Azula in the comics and that she and Zuko had a mutual toxic rivalry is so ridiculous. What do you think about how these stans will say that Azula was abused but then use abuse apologism rhetoric to minimize her actions?

Taken from this article, which focuses on domestic abuse so I edited a little to make it more generally applicable:

What might be perceived as mutual violence is often violent resistance—that’s violence in response to violence, not violence used to control [...] “They don’t initiate the violence, and they don’t use it with the motivation of limiting agency or controlling [...],” Mechanic says. “They’re using it either defensively or preemptively. But it can look on the surface like mutual abuse if you’re not looking at who’s initiating and who’s in control.” Self-defense is also not mutual abuse. Some survivors think they are in a mutually abusive relationship, especially if their partner, family, friends, or law enforcement push them to feel that way. But if you’re not the one starting the fight, it’s not mutual abuse. “If you’re fighting against someone who has their hand around your neck, then you’re just trying to save your life,” says Mechanic.

The devil walks in church, and anyone can repeat buzzwords to make themselves sound smart. Not that these people sound smart, they just sound like they think they do. I also find it disgusting that they pretend to be an advocate for the mentally ill and then describe a mental health institution as a "cage" and insist that she was put there to be abused and traumatized and that Azula only attacks people because she "can't tell what's real" and not because she's a violent imperialist.

And then the cherry on top is how much Azula has "risked and sacrificed for Zuko." Except they began by saying that it doesn't matter what crimes Azula committed previously. They are correct when they say no one deserves to be abused regardless of what they have done, they just aren't correct about who the abuser is. And if they really believed what they were saying, if they really believed Azula was being abused, by their own logic they would not NEED to talk about how much Azula sacrificed for Zuko and how she really did nothing wrong. The OP did not bring up Azula's previous crimes to say that she deserves to be treated badly, they brought them up to prove a pattern of behavior that is being denied and used to make the aggressor seem like the victim. Because every example of Azula being treated badly is actually Zuko and the gaang defending themselves from her.

Mutual abuse doesn't exist, and "mutual toxicity" can't exist if one person in the relationship is an abuser. Notice how these people always begin by saying Zuko is the abuser but then they say that actually, it's mutually toxic. Once again, if they really believed Azula was abused by Zuko or the gaang, they wouldn't say that both of them are at fault. They're just grasping at anything they can in the abuse apologist playbook.

#azula #zuko #abuse cw #the discourse

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loving-n0t-heyting · 1 year

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Appreciate you talking about antipsychotics stuff. Mine made me really stupid and also incapable of like, aiming while walking. I'd just drift and run into walls and shoulder check basically every door. I could only avoid this by maintaining physical contact with the wall while walking, a habit i find comforting even a decade later. But somehow I just didn't notice or care. Even after stopping I have trouble remembering that time in enough detail to make it feel real, to feel any non abstract injustice about. But hearing about other people doesn't have this problem and helps bridge that gap. Thank you.

every time i read shit about the cognitive deterioration from antipsychotics i thank my god for unaccountably sparing me by some neurological stroke of luck, bc i was given no warning when i started and it sounds like such a fucking nightmare. thats awful im so sorry

the self-obscuring effect you describe is really such a master stroke for preemptive deradicalisation id say it was planned if i didnt know shrinks have basically no idea what theyre doing and just throw stuff at a wall (yr brain) until it either quits or dies or "works." having just had the torture part instead of the worlds least sexy bimbofication does help me maintain a consciousness of the injustice; im glad im able to help transmit that to at least some other victims of the same coordinated attack

#ask #north-of-everything

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avaritia-apotheosis · 9 months

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Phantom Children: Redux | IX. Truth Be Told

A DPxDC crossover // Read on [AO3} or [FFN.net]

← Previous Chapter // MASTERPOST // Next Chapter →

◆◆◆

Present Day…

The first time Batman met the White Ghost—who may or may not be an actual ghost— was about one year ago. It was a brief encounter— barely one at all, really; just the statuesque image of a black-clad assassin standing at attention by Talia’s side, the full-white mask burnt orange in the setting sun. The White Ghost said nothing during Talia’s exchange with Damian, only parting with a brief nod before accompanying Talia onto the submarine.

Batman knew, vaguely, that the White Ghost was with them in Deathstroke’s underground research lab off the coast of the U.K. Though for unknown reasons, he never engaged with either Deathstroke, Batman, or Talia during the entirety of the event. The White Ghost’s contributions were the hoard of broken and bloody man-bats thrown over the high-walkways that hung from the cavern ceilings, and a strange sonic based attack that managed to take down swathes of enemies in a single turn.

When asked, Damian only said that the White Ghost was “the shadow of the Demon’s Head” and “a loyal member and protector of the al Ghul family.”

The second descriptor is what’s currently niggling on Bruce’s mind as he finished patching up his bruises in the cave.

Damian was back up in the manor, wrapped up in blankets and nursing one of Alfred’s signature hot cocoa. The boy was being uncharacteristically passive, when usually he’d be digging his heels into the cave and stubbornly insisting that he’s fine and more than capable with assisting with the case, father.

After their encounter with the White Ghost at the Royal Hotel, Damian’s been strangely silent.

It’s reasonable to assume that if the White Ghost was the “protector of the al Ghul family” that Damian would know the assassin’s real identity. But why Damian never offered that information up when he would usually be very willing to ‘prove his worth’ —Damian’s words, not Bruce’s— was the more interesting puzzle.

Much like how saying that the White Ghost was the “protector of the al Ghul family” as opposed to “protector of the League” was interesting in its deliberate specificity.

If the White Ghost was the main culprit of these ‘executions’ then that meant that Bruce had to reframe the motive. Since the White Ghost was the protector of the al Ghuls specifically, then that meant that all the victims posed in some way as a threat not to the League of Shadows, but the al Ghul family. The distinction was slight…but eye-opening all the same.

Bruce opened his case files again, combing over the list of victims. The majority of them were self-explanatory; not only did these people betray the League, some of them even abetted the murder of Ra’s al Ghul one year ago. A protector would seek to avenge their fallen master. The reframing of the motive, however, casts a different light onto the one outlier victim in that case. Well, two now, with the attempted murder of Vlad Masters.

All files on Freakshow reveal no connections to the League of Shadows nor any dealings with Deathstroke, so his death would be less motivated by revenge (as Bruce first hypothesized) and more preemptively cutting off a possible threat to the al Ghul family. What threat he posed would be the question Bruce needed to answer.

He paused, stroking his chin in contemplation before creating a profile for Vlad Masters to add to his case files. Bruce quickly typed down all the necessary surface details for the profile, then pulled up multiple databases to begin his research.

Vlad Masters inherited his family’s company at the age of 25 and since then has been involved in a streak of extremely lucrative business deals. No businessman in the Midwest wanted to face Masters from across the board room, his skills in negotiation and manipulation so great that even some of the more ruthless CEOs would walk out of that meeting signing away more than they intended. One of his lesser known ventures was his shell company— DALV Co. (Bruce had to pinch the bridge of his nose at the name. The only veneer of protection they had was the owner’s name spelled backwards. Seriously, he didn't know which was worse, this or Clark’s glasses.) DALV Co. dealt in more underground and…less than legal business ventures, things that Bruce made a note to look at later. While Masters’ assets did not seem to indicate any kind of dealings with the League of Shadows, there was something else that caught Bruce’s eyes. A specific area in DALV’s research and development division labeled Project Lemures.

Lemures… as in a reference to the spirits of the restless dead in Roman religion.

The files were heavily encrypted, but not the worst thing Bruce ever had to deal with. Within a few minutes, he was able to bypass its security and gain full access to the trove of knowledge Project Lemures had to offer. Weapons schematics, blueprints for some kind of containment device, cloning research, drugs— all things centered around spectrological research and ectoplasm.

Ghosts. The occult. Spectrology.

In his mind, he began tying a thread between Freakshow and Masters.

If Ra’s al Ghul was interested in learning more about these ghosts, then why would Talia order his right hand man to eliminate those knowledgeable on them? What threat did Masters and Freakshow have on the League?

Knowledge is power.

Bruce’s eyes lingered on pages and pages of cloning research on his screen. (It never said whether the cloning process was successful—)

He couldn’t say for sure what knowledge Freakshow guarded, but with Masters…

Did the League attempt to create their own version of the Amity Park ghosts? Bruce filed the hypothesis away in his mind. It required further proof. He pushed himself away from the desk, leaning back against his chair. One by one he cracked his knuckles in thought, letting his mind spin with possibilities, discarding pieces that fit, rearranging the ones that did. There were too many holes in this puzzle. There were too many uncertainties at the moment to say for sure.

Too many things that Bruce didn’t know about.

There was one thing he knew for sure: The League would come after Vlad Masters again.

◆◆◆

Bruce returned upstairs to the Manor, back aching and eyes weary from staring at the monitor for so long. He stifled a yawn. Running his fingers through his tangled hair.

He stopped as he walked past the doors to the manor’s grand library, spotting a shadowed figure hunkered down within the large leather arm chairs. It was Damian, dressed in comfortable pajamas, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his lap, and Titus curled up by his feet. There was an open book nestled on Damian’s lap, his fingers blanketed between one page and the next as if he was in the middle of flipping the page. But instead of being engrossed in his book, Damian’s eyes were elsewhere, head pointed towards the large open windows of the library that looked over the garden of topiaries.

Bruce cleared his throat.

Damian’s head twitched. He slowly turned to look at Bruce. “Father.”

“Damian.”

“It’s late.”

Bruce blinked, flicking his eyes to check the time. There, on the mantelpiece clock— 4:15 AM. “So it is. It means you should be in bed by now.” He tilted his head, expectantly. “Unless you finally decided to tell me whatever it is you’ve been hiding.”

“Hiding?” A wrinkle formed in the space between Damian’s brows.

With tired grace, Bruce took the seat opposite of Damian’s, settling into the old leather with a groan. “You’re not good at playing coy, Damian.”

Damian’s frown deepened. “I assure you I am not ‘playing’ at anything.”

“Playing dumb isn’t a good look on you either.” Bruce gave Damian a look. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped up on his knees, and fingers steepled together. “You know the White Ghost—”

“I don’t—”

“You know more about this case than you let on.”

“That’s—”

“The question I have is: why are you holding this information from me?”

Damian seized back, as if struck. Green eyes shifted away to look at some dark spot in the library.

It was easy enough for Bruce to let his eyes pick apart every little twitch and microexpression Damian gave off. Eyes shifting— going dark, going blank. The clench of his jaw as he ground his teeth, the tension carrying down to the tight lines of his shoulders. The slight increase in respirations. Thumb fidgeted over the corner of the page. Feet braced against the floor as if ready to run .

Damian’s stoicism was easy to read, if one knew where to look.

If Bruce let his mind wander, he’d be able to extrapolate from Damian’s body language and circle the truth. Damian’s willingness to talk about the League until the White Ghost appeared. The White Ghost was a guardian, a protector; Damian must have known him when he was young.

The League of Shadows valued many things. Chief among them are two traits: obedience and loyalty.

Children always loved the hand that cherished them.

Bruce tried to soften his gaze. To turn off the part of his brain that analyzes and calculates without end. “I hope you know that I’m not mad at you. That I won’t be mad at you. But, Damian, the League of Shadows is planning something and I need all the information I can to stop them.”

Damian bit his lip, shoulders hunched as he tried to shrink further into the chair. “I know,” he said, voice almost wavering.

“Will you tell me, then?”

Damian stayed silent.

Bruce sighed heavily. “People’s lives are on the line Damian. Perhaps even more than that, depending on what the League has in store.” He could see the way Damian’s fingers clenched the page, wrinkles forming on the pristine edges. “If I can’t trust you to be honest with me right now, then I can’t trust you to work with me on this case.”

“What?” Damian jumped up, book clattering to the ground. Titus reared his head up, ears perked. “You can’t— you can’t do that!”

“I can and I will. You’re off of this case and benched for a week. No patrols, no costumes, just monitor duty.” He rose from his seat, eyes shadowed. “The appearance of the League has compromised you, Damian, and until I know for certain that I can trust you, this is how it is going to be.”

◆◆◆

Batman perched atop the head of a hulking gargoyle, surveying the unsleeping streets of Gotham. It was a relatively quiet night, by the city’s standards. An evening of petty thieves and wannabe gangsters, easily frightened by the sight of a shadow that moved just a bit too unnaturally.

A flash of red in the air caught his gaze.

Robin.

Tim.

Robin swung from his grappling line, using the momentum to launch himself high into the air. As he reached the peak of his swing, he released the line, angling himself into a swan dive before his cape flared, the memory cloth charged with electricity as it became a functioning glider. Wind caught under his new wings, Robin glided across the rooftops, before rolling into a not-so-graceful landing on the rooftop behind Batman’s perch with a yelp.

Batman pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, turning to see Robin dusting himself off.

“That design hasn’t been properly field tested yet,” Batman stated. While previous renditions of their capes had included functions that allowed them to glide for short periods of time, the recent breakthrough with the memory cloth promised a longer and more sustainable glide while remaining lightweight when not in use. He and Lucious Fox had run simulations of the design but had only started field testing a few weeks ago.

Robin quirked his lips up in a cheeky grin. “It’s been field tested plenty.”

Meaning that he took one of the prototypes for a test drive.

Batman sighed louder. It was a small mercy that Lucius had yet to add the mini-jetpack to one of the prototypes.

“Well,” Robin said. “My route’s all clear. Only things of note were a couple of teens about to rob a convenience store— easy enough to scare off—and how much I miss doing patrol without the Demon Brat trying to one-up me every time.”

He leveled Robin a look.

Robin returned it with a raised eyebrow. “What? You know what he’s like. It’s honestly a miracle he didn’t come out of his room to gut me when he heard I’d be doing the rounds with you today. Whatever it is he’s hiding, he’s willing to sacrifice his pride for it.” At Batman’s downturned expression, Robin’s gaze turned inquisitive. “You know who it is.”

“I know who it is not. And it’s given me an idea of who it might be.” The previous White Ghost was Damian’s uncle, Dusan al Ghul, who was less loyal and more a fanatic. Whoever the current holder of the title was, they would have been equally trained to take over the role. “And your case, Robin?”

The pride in Robin’s voice warmed Bruce’s heart. He could already tell that Tim had prepared a ninety eight slide PowerPoint presentation on this case back at the cave. He made a mental note to clear his schedule for tomorrow.

“Brief me.”

“Yep,” Tim said, popping the ‘p.’ He adjusted his position on the gargoyle, setting down properly and letting his legs swing from fifty stories up. “I found a few of their off-shore bank accounts and saw a significant sum of money being deposited at around the same time frme, only a few weeks after the robbery. The money was deposited via a dummy account that pinged me around to a few other shell companies, but eventually led me right back here to Gotham.”

“The two culprits are Kiarra and Isadora Lee, two retired career criminals with a pretty impressive track record. They took the job as a ‘last hurrah’ before officially retiring, but there was a lot of incentive for them to hijack and steal government property than just for the thrill of it.”

“They were hired.”

Tim laughed. “Wanna know who it was? August Lupton.”

“Lupton?” Batman raised an eyebrow. “Their family deals in real estate.”

“I know. When I dug into their company’s files, I didn’t see any projects that would even hint at weapons involvement, and while the Luptons aren’t clean, their crimes are more towards the white collar variety than anything else. Which got me thinking that maybe they’re acting as an intermediary for another party. And that’s when I found August’s dirty little secret.”

He pulled out a small tablet and showed it to Bruce.

There, on the screen was a very distinctive owl mask.

A cold wind swept past them, their capes whipping like dark flags against the building’s limestone walls. It had been years since the Court of Owls first attempted to seize Gotham for themselves. Batman thought they’d disbanded after their failure, and their leaders were poisoned by one of their own

And now they dared try again?

He’d like to see them try.

But investigating the Court was a dangerous undertaking to do alone— especially if they’ve managed to successfully rebuild their Talon army. It might be better to pull Tim from the case and reassess the situation—

“I can do it.”

Batman blinked.

Tim looked at him with a knowing gaze. “You’re thinking that it’s dangerous to continue on my own. That maybe I should step back. But this is my case, B, and I’m seeing it through to the end.”

There’s a look in Tim’s eyes that Bruce is far too familiar with. A kind of fiery determination that burns through everything, consequences be damned. He’d seen it in Damian, when he ran off to rescue his mother. In Jason, when he took to the streets of Gotham as Robin. In Dick, who threatened to go after Zuco with or without Batman.

Every bone in Bruce’s body tells him to say No. To say Wait. But Robins rarely listen when they have their minds set on something, but better that they go with Bruce’s approvals and stipulations than have them disobey and go at it alone.

“Investigation and observation only. Assuming they haven’t caught onto us yet, we’ll have the element of surprise on our side. I want no direct confrontation with the Court until we’re certain of what their plans are.”

Robin grinned. “I might actually have a lead on that. The items were stolen enroute to a new Task Force X facility— four trucks loaded with government research and tech and escorted by a federal convoy, with seven potential routes to their destination. No matter how impressive the Lees were, they couldn’t have intercepted and stolen those trucks with just the two of them. At the very least, they would’ve needed an informant on the inside to tell them what route the convoy was taking, the arrangement of the trucks, and possibly how to disable any trackers.” He held up a finger with every item that he listed.

From his perch, Robin leaned in closer. Despite the white-lenses of his mask, there was a familiar conspiratorial gleam to his gaze. “And don’t you think it’s weird how…bloodless it was? While the Lees are usually pretty clean with their crimes, but with something of this caliber, you’d expect more casualties than a couple of knocked out agents and bruised egos. I had a hunch—” which in Tim’s language, meant ‘I took a wild leap in logic that I can’t explain’ “— and after a bit of digging I discovered a connection. While the two stolen trucks did have a couple of unreleased or cut military projects, the majority of the items that were taken belonged to a sub-branch of Task Force X: The Agency of Paranormal Investigation and Spectral Affairs.”

Batman’s mouth pressed into a grim line.

Robin narrowed his eyes. “I take it you know them, then, and that it’s not a good sign.”

“They were mentioned in my own investigations.”

“Well then, you’re not gonna be happy when I tell you that the majority of agents selected to guard the convoy were former APISA agents. All of them had gone underground when their employment ended.” Robin tapped his fingers against his arm. “You think there’s a connection?”

Batman’s silence gave his answer.

Robin let out a low whistle. “The Court of Owls and The League of Assassins? Gotham never has it easy, does it.”

◆◆◆

With an almost silent hiss, the top of the Batmobile opened up in the silence of the Batcave. Waiting for them in the hangar was Damian, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Looks like the demon brat finally got over his tantrum,” Tim huffed. He hopped out of the Batmobile and headed straight for the showers.

Bruce took down his cowl before approaching his youngest. “Damian.”

Damian looked away. “Father.” His grip over himself tightened, the fabric of his black turtleneck bunching between his fingers. “After much…deliberation…I came to see that it would be prudent to inform you about the identity of…the White Ghost.”

“Why the vested interest in him?”

Bruce stayed silent, sitting down on a nearby chair so he was eye-level with Damian.

“The White Ghost’s name is—” Damian paused to swallow a lump in his throat, eyes skittish. “He was once known as Danny Fenton, from Amity Park, Illinois. Grandfather considered him a person of interest for years, up until he came under the League’s influence about three years ago. He was personally taught by my uncle, Dusan al Ghul, and then eventually succeeded the title of the White Ghost upon uncle’s death.”

“I don’t know!” Damian exclaimed. He snapped his mouth shut, face drained of color. “No, I do know but— I’ve always been told how important it is to keep Danny’s secret, and if anyone found out what he was then he’d— he’d be…”

Damian’s shoulders shook, like brittle leaves of a dying tree. His fingers gripped to his sleeves like a lifeline, fingers wound tight that Bruce was afraid the fabric might rip.

He’s never seen Damian so distressed.

Not since…

Bruce pulled his son into a tight embrace, letting Damian bury his face in the crook of his shoulders. He rubbed soothing circles along the space between Damian’s shaking shoulders until he could feel his breath even out.

His son. His poor son, raised on secrecy and strict obedience. A lifetime of conditioning could not be so easily forgotten, and seeing Damian like this made Bruce’s heart ache. He almost regretted being so strict.

But this was information he had to know.

“Who is he, Damian?”

Damian let out a shuddering breath.

“Baba. He’s my brother, Baba.”

#dpxdc #phantom children: redux #my writing

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tapioca-puddingg · 2 years

Text

Four, the Goddess of Envy: A Drakengard 3 Analysis

Warning: Spoilers ahead! Read at your own risk!

EDITED 1/27/2024

Oh, hey. It's me again, your favorite over-analyzer. The more I look into the intoners, the more interesting they are. I should've said this in the last analysis, but I have to admit that I actually have not played any of the Drakengard games. However, I have watched all the Drakengard 3 cutscenes and DLC's online and have been re-reading all their novellas. I had a lot to say about them, so I dump all of that here. I gotta say though, Four's character is one that hits close to home for me personally, and I'm sure a lot of people would resonate with a character like this. Now let's get onto Four, the Goddess of Envy. You could say she's green with envy. (Ba-dum-tss)

"Once upon a time, many moons ago...There was a beautiful Intoner and a middle-aged man. The Intoner yearned for a world of peace and happiness and for evil to be banished forever."

INTRODUCTION TO FOUR

Four is the second youngest of the Intoner sisters and the ruler of the Land of Mountains. In this post, I'll start from the main game, to the DLC, and then the novella. Though to be honest, you don't get much of her in the main game. Before we even meet her, both Mikhail and Dito ask Zero about what kind of person she is. Zero claims that Four is "sleazy" and that acts sweet on the surface but is really evil deep down. When we actually see Four, she is seemingly one of the only normal Intoners. She seems harmless and doesn't want to fight Zero and just wants Zero to be her "old self" again. That doesn't stop Zero from killing her, though. Her being "sugary sweet" on the outside does match up with what Zero claimed, but we didn't get to see the whole picture before Four's death. If you only went by what you saw from her in the game, you'd think that Four is a kind, normal, unassuming girl. But the deeper you look, the more you see that Zero was correct in her claims.

FOUR'S PROLOGUE (DLC)

"Dragons can see the shape of a person's heart. And the heart of this beautiful intoner... was full of holes. A frigid breeze seemed to blow through it. What could have made it so cold? This dragon had no idea."

Four is given a task by One to eliminate the remaining troops of the previous lord in the Cathedral City. Gabriella, One's dragon, accompanies her a little later to help with this task. This is where we get to see the side of Four that Zero was talking about. While Four does want to do the right thing by maintaining peace and order, she is immensely self-righteous, perfectionistic, and condescending towards those that she thinks are less than her (i.e. all of her sisters save for Zero and One, and the elves later on). She takes every opportunity to throw her sisters, mostly Five, under the bus in order to make herself look better by comparison. She's definitely a "I'm not like other girls" type of woman. She considers herself to be morally superior and just, has a black and white mentality and does not think about the consequences of her actions (preemptively attacking the pirates for instance, more on that later.)

I think Decadus and Gabriella are foils in their relation to Four; Gab constantly calls out Four for being disingenuous and shallow, whereas Decadus enables her and coddles her ego. Going back to the quote, Gabriella sees that Four's heart is "full of holes" because of her many flaws and complexes.

"The screams of burning victims rang out from the downed vessels. The cries for help echoed far and wide. But none of it bothered the Intoner in the least. After all, they weren't civilians. After all, they weren't human. After all, they were the 'bad guys'. The Intoner was filled with sublime exhilaration."

The part of this DLC that I think is the most telling is the very end when Four insists that they go and slay the pirate elves. It is unclear if this was part of One's plan or if Four came up with this on her own, but it's probably the latter. Anyways, with Gabriella's help, Four begins slaughtering the elves and it doesn't sit right with Gab. She feels guilty and uncomfortable due to the screams of pain from the elves, but Four insists that she should ignore it and continue. Gab tries numerous times to tell Four that she thinks what they're doing is wrong, but Four doesn't bother to consider it. And now to the moment where everyone began to collectively hate Four; Gabriella calls their attack "manslaughter", which makes Four laughs maniacally. She says it can't be manslaughter because they're killing elves and not people.

This once again proves that she's apathetic towards those she considers less than human and justifies her slaughter. I should note that the elves are pirates and by that logic, they probably aren't innocent. We all know what kinds of things pirates do. However, she not only preemptively attacks the elves without any sort of plan, but she laughs and takes pleasure in doing so. She immediately resorts to violence instead of trying to form an intelligent strategy. She believes that she can do whatever she wants because she thinks that they're in the right and shows absolutely no remorse. This shows a very immature mindset.

NOVELLA

"I hate you so much! All of you! I despise you! I know I'll never be lovable like Two or beautiful like Three. I know that compared to Five I'm a pancake! I hate myself! I hate my face! My body! I'm not pretty or lovable and I have the most average face you can imagine. My arms and legs are gangly and I look like a twig that can never get my stupid hair to straighten out!"

Now THIS is really where we get to see who Four is. The novella lets us take a peak into her thoughts and boy, is it something. In this scenario, all the intoner sisters are living together in a house temporarily and some of the others are being rather irresponsible, mostly Five, Three and Two (unintentionally). She spends a majority of this novella complaining about having to clean up after the others while judging them harshly. She is extremely pessimistic, envious and resentful. Her cynicism reminds me a lot of Dito's novella. She points out the flaws of everyone else to make herself feel better, but she makes it clear that she feels inferior towards all of them. She projects her insecurities onto her sisters. While I can understand the frustration of living with careless and irresponsible people, she also doesn't do anything to change her circumstance. By that I mean she could've requested to live in a different house while her sisters sort out their own mess. When you always cover for someone else failing to be responsible, I feel like you're inadvertently coddling them, and they won't know how to solve their own problems. Or she could try to communicate more effectively.

Because of this, I think she has a martyr complex. By definition, someone who has a martyr complex "desires the feeling of being a martyr for their own sake and seeks out suffering or persecution because it either feeds a physical need or a desire to avoid responsibility....Other martyr complexes involve willful suffering in the name of love or duty." To sumarize, these types of people can seek out undesirable situations and continue to stay in them in the name of their victimhood. They also don't take accountability for their poor decision-making or actions.

Five makes an inappropriate comment about her body, and Four completely snaps, even throwing objects in the room in her fit of rage. While Five's comment was definitely inappropriate, Four's response was also inappropriate. Three was still asleep in the room, and she could've easily hurt her. She expressed her hatred, self-loathing and envy while hurling degrading insults when referring to her sisters. Once she's done, she does at least acknowledge what she did was wrong and that she needs to have better control of herself next time. Yeah no kidding.

NOVELLA ARTWORK

In the novella image, Four is standing in the center surrounded by dolls of her sisters. She is stabbing through the head of the Five doll specifically. We already know that Four resents Five the most because she's jealous of her mature body, so that checks out. While looking at the other ladies, most of them are a heap on the floor except for One. Maybe that represents how she thinks that they're beneath her, and that only One is at her level. Although, One is still upside down, which is curious. Zero is facing away from all of them, which shows that she's distant from them.

THE FINAL SONG

So, let's talk about Four’s dance in the Final Song. Just like the other even-numbered Intoners, Four’s movements are symmetrical. She had a desire for peace and order, so the symmetry makes sense in that context. This is also the “perfect” girl facade that she tries to put on in front of others. Her movements are limited and controlled, always within her line of sight. In her starting and ending pose, she’s covering her face with her hands. She’s hiding her feelings of inadequacy, or maybe it’s her true nature that she’s hiding. She also appears to reach out for Zero quite a bit, whom we know that she had always loved and admired. Idk if this has to do with anything, but Five’s song is playing during her dance. Which is ironic because Five is the one that she resents and antagonizes the most.

COLOR THEORY (GREEN)

I could go on forever about how important color theory is when it comes to fictional characters, but I'll spare you from that tangent. Four's signature color is green, as we can all see in her design. Green is associated with nature and is a soothing and relaxing color to the eye. Some positive traits include balance, harmony, vitality, renewal and restoration. Some negative traits include possessiveness, materialism, jealousy, selfishness, and greed. I referenced this earlier in my horrible joke, but I think when we think about green, the "green with envy" thing is one of the first things to come to mind. I also find it interesting that the positive traits are what she desires, but the negative traits are what she actually has.

TLDR/Personal Anecdote

In conclusion, Four is someone with a severe inferiority, saviour, and martyr complex. She also has an underlying twisted and sadistic side to her because of internalized anger and resentment. She has a desire to do the right thing and help people, but she has a skewed sense of what is "right" or "wrong" because of her black-and-white mentality. She is condescending and judgmental towards others that she deems inferior.

I'm gonna be outing myself by saying this, but I strongly identify with Four, as awful as she can be sometimes. I resonated with her character a lot as I was doing my research, and I think she's actually a well-written and relatable character. And realistic too, as there are many people in the world that are exactly like her. Over the course of the last few months, I've been in the process of healing from my wounds and acknowledging my own shortcomings. I only wish that Four got the opportunity to do the same. With time, surely she could've grown to be a better person.

Anyways, thank you so much if you've read this far. Doing this analysis was definitely eye opening and, again, reminded me of my own flaws and how much work i have to do. I can't say when my next analysis will be, but thanks again for your support. Until next time. ♡

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