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#crueler than dead
maledictus-soul · 2 years
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atthequillsmercy · 2 years
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Lenni Reviews: "Crueler Than Dead" Vol 2, by Tsukasa Saimura & Kozo Takahashi
Lenni Reviews: “Crueler Than Dead” Vol 2, by Tsukasa Saimura & Kozo Takahashi
(Image Source) Maki along with Miura, Yugo, and Shota bring the last of a vaccine against the zombie virus to a supposed sanctuary called The Dome. When they arrive, they find it corrupt and disgusting, a place where the elite live in luxury and the rest life a desperate life of starvation and squalor. The leader, Colonel Shimamoto, believes the vaccine will save humanity but only in the way he…
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nowwheresmynut · 1 year
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draw maya graciously preventing me from showing miles a pic of his dad's dead body for no reason
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He'll be haunted forever by this knowledge.
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bruciemilf · 1 month
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It’s been exactly fifteen years, two days, 4 minutes, and 33.5 seconds since the Wayne murder. Bruce can feel time crawling under his skin, like filth under fingernail, like it’s a breathing, screaming thing.
It’s an endless, infinite supply. And yet, he feels like he’s running out of it.
The details are carved deep; Alfred’s cologne lingering on both his mother’s Stefano Cabbana fur coat, Snow White and fluffy, and his father’s sharp-looking leather jacket.
The gunsmoke. The pearls bleeding on the pavement.
“Your mother wore Armani, actually.”
The Waynes are known to cheat Death, but this is getting ridiculous.
“You’re not here.”
The Riddler, — Edward. His name is Edward Nashton, 29-years-old, forsenic accountant, Bruce’s former classmate at Gotham University.
He’s just a man, not a monster, — gasps, wide eyes confused, “Who are you talking to?”
Thomas watches Bruce’s, — Batman’s hands tighten around the swamp green jacket with mildly tamed amusement. Almost like Bruce is an infant again, shaking on his first steps.
“Pretty sure I am, chum. Also, you might wanna move Eddie here to a coffee table. That shit looks sturdy. YOU were made on one, I think,—“
He cringes, but does as he’s told. Edward’s coffee screeches when Batman slams him across it like loose change, “I’d rather not think about that.”
“Honey, it’s a very romantic story, and I resent Alfred for not talking to you about it. Now go grab a drill and some duct tape. Oh, don’t make that face, — His adrenaline levels are higher than a fucking drop head.”
Bruce doesn’t want to do it. Something just compels him to. Thomas scoffs but Bruce is too focused on the drill biting through bone to notice. Edward doesn’t feel any pain. He’s just under the illusion of it, which seems much crueler.
“You would’ve KNOWN that if you stayed in school. “
“Why are you here?”
“Now that,” His father’s smile is a serpentine, alluring and full thoothed and stained with Maverick cigarettes. His hair is slicked, crowned by red lensed sunglasses.
He looked for a dead man. “Is a smart guy question.”
He doesn’t sleep. He can’t.
“Your father was a hundred different things, “ Alfred sighs at him, stitching up his wounds in a tight, secure pattern. Thomas’. The ghost of the hour. “And I never understood any of them.”
Bruce is about to ask more, expand a stream of curiosity, when footsteps bang against the cave’s massive interior.
He knows each child by foot, by volume, by rhythm.
He’d know Jason dead or alive.
He’s about to greet him, choosing to ignore his father’s ghost flirting with an unsuspecting Alfred, when his baby bird beats him to it.
“Why the fuck is your dead mom following me?”
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etfrin · 4 months
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❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ cramoysin lips — coriolanus snow ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞
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☆ Warning: NSFW | blowjob, mentions of blood, blood play if you squint, coriolanus is his own warning | lmk if I forgot anything
☆ Pairing: young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader
☆ Summary: reader has a habit of peeling of dead skin off her lips and Coryo doesn't like it
☆ A/N: wanted to get this out of my drafts so i can fully focus on my new series!
masterlist | bc: @cafekitsune | navigation
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Coryo doesn't notice at first. Your obvious nervous tick that you only do it around people you're comfortable with. Like your boyfriend (Coriolanus). He hates it. He hates it because he can't get you to stop. He even begins to carry chapstick for you and yet no change whatsoever.
When he begins to notice it. He thinks it's harmful behavior, but he realizes he likes seeing your lips swollen and bloody. However, he prefers that it was his doing not yours. Now with realization washing over his bones, he thinks about how to turn this habit of yours around.
He hates it because it shows a clear weakness. He hates it when you do it around other people like Sejanus (how dare you be so comfortable around him?) He hates how pink the flesh underneath the layer of dry skin is. He hates how swollen it makes your lips with your constant peeling. He hates how sometimes your lower lips begin to bleed due to the abuse. Your lips get crimson red and you ignore the flash of pain. If anything you like it and that infuriates him.
It begins with words, how concerning it was. How harmful it is. All of it. That doesn't work despite the frustration he feels. He begins with actions next. Holding your hand every time he sees your lips cracked up, handing you a chapstick from his pocket. You pout but use it.
In the end, however, you ended up the same, your fingers pinching and pulling the taunt skin causing your lips to bleed without care. And it frustrates him and drives him to madness because no matter how much he molded you with his manipulation, he can't seem to get it out of you.
As if this painful action was an echo of your soul. Well, he certainly couldn't let anyone else know of this. If he can't change it, he will reserve it for himself alone. So he makes sure of that.
It starts by kissing you on your lips, freshly soft and hurting too even if it's in public, PDA is good for his reputation even better if Sejanus was present. In the beginning, you used to flinch, overstimulated by the feeling of your lover’s lips against yours. However, just like your habit, it turns into a habit too. The innocent pecks in public turn into dirtier kisses in private.
The dirtier kisses turn into wet, sloppy, bloody make-outs with you being pinned against a wall or on his lap. His hand is woven into your hair, keeping your head in place. His other hand is hooked under your chin, moving your face to whichever angle he wants to control the kiss. He was much more crueler towards your lips than you ever could be.
His teeth dig into your flesh, making the bleeding lip of yours paint his lips red. His tongue savored the taste of iron. His mouth groning into yours. Your blood is consumed by him, with a kiss that is reserved for lovers. It was such a debased manner of claiming you, thinking about it made no sense whatsoever but fuck, it did get his dick hard.
“Fuck,” he whispered as he sucked on your lower lip, letting the blood flow into his mouth. He loved it. He fucking loved it so much being able to do this. He puts you on your knees, your lips smeared red and glistening mostly due to spit. Your pupils blow, your hair messy and your lips swollen.
His love. His pretty love.
You looked stunning with your lips being stretched around his cock. The crimson of your blood being transferred to the skin of his cock, the blue of his veins turning red on the surface. It was mildly disgusting but he felt ecstatic so it didn't matter much.
You take his cock well, despite tears welling in your eyes. You make sure that your tongue worships his cock, especially his tip. You pay special attention to his slit, your tongue licking his dick like the best-flavored lollipop. Your mouth hallowing to give him harsh, blissful sucks that had him gasping, his mind trying his best to grasp reality and not lose himself in pleasure.
You always made it so hard for him to tether to the harsh reality. That's why he has to punish you plenty, to remind himself of what he is, but he doesn't do it without reason. Of course, the reasons are his hypocrisy.
It's your fault that you suck him so good. It's your fault he loves your dick inside your mouth. It's your fault that he loves to fill your tummy with his seed. And it's certainly your fault how good the color of red looks good smeared around his dick.
It's. Your. Fault.
You swallow his cum, tears running down your cheeks as he roughly thrusts into your mouth. His hands are in your hair and he coos at you condescendingly, “That's a good girl. Take it all, don't let it spill, doll.”
He grins at the sight of your tears, he chuckles when he pulls his softening dick out of your lips and you gasp, trying to inhale much-needed air.
He pulls you up on his lap again and kisses you. He gently wipes your tears away, a big contrast from before. He whispered, his lips brushing against your swollen ones as he did so, “You know I won't be mean if you stopped peeling your lips. It's such a bad habit, you shouldn't do it, sweetheart.”
Even though you nod at his words. Teary eyes and throat sore, you know you will do it again. He will make sure to kiss your lips and make you suck his cock when you do so.
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dewdropdinosaur · 1 month
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Go Heavy on the Red
ALASTOR x (F) READER
Summary: SOULMATE AU. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. Till you died and met him
Warnings: Mentions of death, drunk driving, dugs, alcohol, and sex. Rating: PG-13
For the lovely @anon-of-the-void
Requests are OPEN
In the chaotic realm of Hell, where demons and lost souls roamed endlessly, there existed a peculiar demon named Alastor. With a penchant for mischief and a flair for the dramatic, he ruled over his domain with unmatched charisma and power. But beneath his imposing exterior lay a longing, a desire for something more profound than the endless cycle of torment and chaos that he so loved. 
All his life, Alastor’s wrist had been adorned with perfect neat red cursive spelling out the words ‘Going heavy on the red, huh?’. Whoever you were, your handwriting was pristine, perfect for someone like him. Yet, despite this, Alastor never truly believed that he would ever find the soulmate behind the words inked upon him. His tattoo was in red…his soulmate was alive or not yet born. A strange phenomenon for a soulmate not to be born within one’s time but then again Alastor was a strange phenomenon in and of himself. 
You were no different. To say that you never thought you were made for love would be an understatement. All your life, black was all you knew. Black ink and a faded tattoo. ‘New to the whole being dead thing my dear?’ Your soulmate was dead, you always wondered how. You were born with the ink so black and murky that it looked like a void space. The handwriting was a fine print, definitely from a time long past. It looked as though it was printed by an old typewriter or someone who had an orderly and steady hand. Crisp and clean. Maybe your soulmate was like that too?
But fate is an even crueler mistress, and despite laying on the load of soulmates from different eras - your mortal thread was also fragile. As the years passed, your time on Earth drew to a close and when you closed your eyes for the last time after being slammed into by a drunk driver - you awoke not to pearly white gates but deep dark brimstone ones. Your bearings were slim and despite trying to orient yourself to your new environment, nothing was working. 
Slowly working your way along the smoky streets, you peered upon an ad for a hotel - the Hazbin Hotel to be precise. The ad was clearly hand drawn with what seemed to be childish crayon but nonetheless the happy picture seemed to stand out amongst the dismal exterior. Following the directions, the streets you walked were perilous. Screaming, crying, the heavy smell of alcohol, sex, and sin filled your nose. Holding your stomach, you convinced yourself that expelling the contents of your stomach right before you approach a hotel didn’t seem like the best idea. You would at least wait to find a decent bathroom…if there was such a thing in this place. In fact, where were you anyway? 
Soon, you came to gaze upon an older structure with a giant vacancy sign. Entering the Hotel, you observed your surroundings. A…cat…stood at the bar with a…spider demon there too? A shorter hyperactive woman ran around with a knife…and were those walking eggs?! 
“OH MY GOSH!! Hello~! Welcome to the Hotel, my name is Charlie!” Without warning a younger woman with blonde hair and a red suit came up and shook your hand furiously. Dazed and confused, you shook back slowly. 
“Oh, hello.”
“So wonderful sinner, would you like a room?”
“Wait, um sinner? I..I am not a sinner.”
“But you are—oh. OH. I see. You’re new!”
“Umm..new to what exactly?”
“Oh, this…this is Hell. You…died?”
“Oh.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. You saw the headlights, he sped through the red light. Crash. Now..now you’re here. Not in your car where you were. But here. In Hell. Hell, the supposedly a fiery pit of destruction and seduction that held the most enigmatic and psychotic of characters.
“Well, let’s get you settled in! Come on, I want to introduce you to everyone!”
Grabbing your arm and dragging you around the Hotel, Charlie introduced you to everyone in an effort to get your bearings and settle down. Little did you know that from the shadows a figure lurked. Watching with glowing red eyes, Alastor peered and sized up this newcomer to the Hotel. Fresh meat was always a good idea and especially with all the changes going around, he felt a need to grasp onto some entertainment. Distract himself with unworthy souls who would fail here spectacularly. 
His soulmate tattoo had turned black this morning and his mind began to reel with all the possibilities. Would his soulmate be in Heaven or in Hell like himself? Would fate be too cruel again and separate them not only across time but planes of death? Throughout the day, his wrist started to burn with a fiery pain. They were close…and as this newcomer approached the Hotel, his interest peaked. Maybe they knew something, he would find out sooner or later.
“Alastor, where are you? We have a new guest for you to meet! Oh, he may be a bit creepy but just don’t try and focus on that.”
With a flicker of shadow, Alastor appeared in front of you in all his 1930s red pinstripe radio glory. His voice was static with radio waves, he extended his hand to you.
“Going heavy on the red, huh?”
Static crackle. His grip tightened around your own as he heard your words. With an evil crackle he spoke with a smirk.
“New to the whole being dead thing my dear” 
Alastor's grin widened as he reached out, grasping your hand and drawing closer to his wrist.
 "Look closely, my dear," He started tracing the intricate patterns etched into their skin. "Do you see it?"
Your eyes widened in awe as you beheld the tattoos adorning their wrists, glowing softly amidst the darkness of Hell. "It... it's...," you trailed off, breath catching in your throat.
"Our soulmate tattoos," Alastor finished, his voice softening with an unexpected tenderness. "Fate's cruel joke on us my dear has come to an end."
For a moment, you were speechless, heart pounding with a mixture of wonder and disbelief. "I... I never imagined..." you began, voice trailing off as you searched for the right words. 
But before you could speak further, Alastor locked his gaze with yours in an unspoken promise. Manipulation has its place and it was Alastor’s preferred tool. 
"In this realm of chaos and despair, we may have found each other against all odds," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the din of Hell. "But together, my dear Y/N, we shall defy fate itself."
And as they stood there, their souls intertwined in a bond that transcended the boundaries of Hell, you knew that they had found not only their salvation, but also your truest companion amidst the darkness. Alastor knew that he had found his only weakness, the tinge of his dark black heart beating once again. Feelings he knew were real despite his aversion to such moments. Maybe hiding and indulging in this one weakness wouldn’t be so bad after all. 
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daylite-writes · 8 months
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Traitor readers always hit different! How about traitor reader with all of the harbingers (but I got a special bias for Pierro) 😫. Like betraying one is bad enough betraying and hurting all? Oh boy
Oooh I like this! I am gonna split it up into separate little instances of what I think they’d be like though for my sanity. I may expand to a few other full traitor fics (esp the Pierro one I really popped off on that damn) later on if I get ideas!
Certain characters take it MUCH better than others, varying from a scale of “Oh that’s Lowkey Hot” to “DIE”.
cw: yandere (?) behaviors, murder, manipulation, imprisonment, forced marriage, forced experimentation
~~~ Harbingers reacts to Traitor!Reader (ordered best to worst ~~~
Childe definitely takes it the best. In fact, this is honestly preferable for him. He’ll let you escape back to your leaders after you find out, giving you a head start before chasing you across Teyvat. The adrenaline is the hot part. He can’t get enough. He’s so easily bored. Come on baby, run a little faster. Make it fun. And after he follows you to your master’s base of operations, he’ll slaughter them and offer you an official place within the fatui’s ranks. Under him, of course! He won, after all, and the winner takes all.
Pantalone doesn’t see this as the worst thing. He’s very familiar with traitors, spies, and secrets. Though how you got around him for so long is a mystery. Once he finds out he’ll just be so sweet. Come on, treasure, just tell him everything and he’ll protect you. No? Oh well. A pretty enough price—or a favor from his more violently inclined coworkers—will have them abandoning you forcefully or not. Then he can scoop you up and… convince you to come home with him. It’s just more leverage to have over you, and it’s perfect for a man with control issues.
Pulcinella just… drops you. He has a nation to run, and his proximity to important information is too valuable. Unlike many of his colleagues he is not willing to bend the rules for feelings. He’s old, and he knows whatever feelings he feels towards you (platonic, romantic, familial, whatever) will pass with time. He reports this information to the proper place, and trusts the people he commands to take care of you properly. It hurts, but most things do at first.
Signora really thought you loved her. She hasn’t felt passion in centuries, and now as soon as her frozen heart thaws it’s revealed you're a traitor? Her heart can hardly take it. It hurts so much. Leave. Go now before she changes her mind and kills you. She cannot bear to have another lover dead in her arms. So take this chance and go, if you don’t, ice will encase her heart and she will slaughter you.
Columbina goes the kidnapping route essentially immediately. You can’t be a spy if you can’t report back to your masters! She’s very gentle though, running her fingers through your hair, humming happily, showering you with beautiful outfits and clothes. Even if you’re paralyzed from her haunting melodies, and feathers and eyes unfurl from the corners of your vision. Like a bird in a cage. It’s really your fault for catching the attention of someone so insane and powerful.
Arlecchino reacts similarly to Capitano, she is very proficient at breaking people down, ruining them, and turning them into what she thinks you ought to be. How dare you? This is a betrayal she will have to remedy. Loyalty is necessary. She’s crueler than him about it. Less patient. You will not be coming out of this unscarred. It’s better to just give in quickly, convincing her you learned your lesson, that you’d never betray her again. Reguardless of what you do though, several house of hearth members will be stalking you whenever you’re away from her, so don’t even bother trying to get back to your masters. It will not end well.
Pierro. Oh Pierro. You’ve never seen the man so sad. For a second, he looks almost pathetic. That is, before he motions for his men to drag you down to whatever dungeons are within the palace. He doesn’t visit you for weeks, but as soon as you start to think he’s never going to look at you again, he’s there, outside your freezing cell. The sadness so heavy in this man is wiped away by fury. He, personally, drags you from your cell. You can’t even walk as he pulls you along, stumbling every time you try to get your footing. He drags you for what seems like forever, ignoring you. Eventually, you’re in the Tsaritsa’s cathedral, with the ice goddess herself standing where the priest was. She smiled at you, and fear floods your body as he forces you down the aisle. He mutters something about how lucky you are. How many strings he had to pull with his god to allow this. You’re married there, ice freezing your ankles as you stand where a bride would, heart heavy in your throat. You know then that the only option is to say “I do”.
Scaramouche does not and will never take this well. Another betrayal? Typical of humans. He will go into a rage when he faces you, and chances of you escaping that rage in one piece is slim to nothing. If you don’t, ice floods his veins as he curls around your body, just asking why why why. If you do, he’ll drag you to the infirmary, force some poor healer to fix you, and then toss you in the dungeon similar to Pierro. He won’t visit you, thinking that this is a proper punishment. You abandon him? He’ll abandon you. He’ll come around sometimes though to yell at you or sob on your lap. Other than that, expect a life of imprisonment with mild favoritism and some physical scars.
Sandrone doesn’t take it well at first. When faced with your crimes, she immediately lashes out, destroying several of her newest machines and scarring you physically. After she calms down, though, she’ll calmly figure out everything that you leaked, who you leaked it to, and begin to work while you stay in a cell in her lab. She comes back to you a few days later, in which you’ve been completely abandoned, with some sort of mechanical collar and a tracking chip. Oh calm down, she’ll say as she rolls her eyes. The surgery is quick, but done without any anesthesia. The collar records everything and will shock and paralyze you upon exiting her laboratory. The chip is for tracking, but it can also release poison into your bloodstream. There! She was being so nice, not turning you into a machine. Say thank you, it might make her more likely to feed you.
Dottore has a breakdown almost immediately upon hearing this. He’d cackle, pacing in front of you, rambling on about how bold you were to try this shit with the cruelest of the Harbingers. Really? Playing with his heart is probably the worst mistake a person could ever make. He’s never been too enamored with human bodies, but monsters? Abyssal creatures? He finds them so beautiful, and he’s been needing a new subject. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt! Just be quiet and let him make you into the ideal version of yourself. He’d never dare do this to you if you weren’t a traitor, he loved you, but all bets are off as soon as you sabotaged his work and smuggled information. And the worst part? You’d still be his lover. Forever bound. Just more monstrous than before.
~~~
Lowkey I can’t believe I wrote for all of them. I didn’t think I do them all but then I had IDEAS. Which is somewhat uncommon for me. Everyone clap!
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In case of their death, each Bat has a dedicated spot where they keep their will/private messages to different members of their family/their friends.
It makes sense in their line of work.
Tim's is a hard drive, no surprise there, but he made sure the code to access it was just stupid enough that most of the family would have to come together to crack it (and even then, they still have to call Bart for the final clue) - it’s something stupid and sentimental, something Bruce would never have guessed Tim would choose as a password. Maybe Quadruple Summersault. Or Short Pants. Or Second Mask. Or Always Be Prepared. Or maybe just I Love You.
Babs has a lot of video messages just in case. She wrote code that would automatically send her last words to everyone she cherished (her dad, the Bats, the Birds of Prey, her co-workers at the library) should she forget to enter the I'm Still Alive Code. (she has to stay at the hospital once without her phone and accidentally sends her last words to everyone - Gotham is chaos for a day until people manage to check in on her).
Cass has already hidden all her goodbyes in the rooms of those she thinks deserve it. Once she is gone, she hopes Bruce will find the letter in her nightstand. The one that says "my words are still here, you just have to look for it" - which is a bit ironic, considering most of her letters consist of funny cartoons and nice memories captured in the chicken scratch of someone who might never be a portrait artist but can undoubtedly catch a moment in time with just a few strokes of a pencil.
Dick updates his will every couple of months, just to be safe. And his letters? His final words? Those are usually stored with a civilian friend or two. One batch is definitely kept at Titans Tower. All of these people have instructions to send them once the news of his death has hit the public. His letters are unusually long, filled with jokes and anecdotes, and a lot of things he never quite managed to say before. For someone who likes to talk, Dick is awfully good at saying nothing. But that's not how he wants to die - at least not this time, so long letters it is.
Jason doesn't have a lot of letters, or a lot of anything really. He just has a very detailed will. A binding legal paper that explains exactly what the family is supposed to do with his body. He's not gonna take any more chances with this. At the end of his will, there is only one addendum: I love you. Please let me be dead. Nothing more - nothing less.
Steph is a bit obsessed with the details of her death, maybe because her first close encounter resulted in a complete loss of agency. She wants to plan it down to the smallest bit, and since she knows she cant do that, she plans everything else. Where she wants to be buried, what songs should be played, what kind of food should be offered... and in each of these instructions there is a personal message hidden just within. She wants Bruce and Tim to carry her coffin, carry her one last time. She wants Cass to dance at her funeral, and Babs and her mom to write the speeches. Small love letters hidden in a search for control.
Damian is needlessly good at compartmentalizing, or maybe its because he's just twelve. He should think of himself as immortal, and nothing is crueler than the fact that he doesn't. He has a will, hidden underneath his mattress because he's too young to actually request legally binding documents. And he has letters and paintings and notebooks - in the hopes that when they find them they'll remember him as a boy and not a weapon. For someone so desperately striving for the title of Robin, Damian mostly wants to be remembered as a son.
For a long time Duke didn't partake in this "family tradition". Because he saw himself as outside of them, as someone with parents, as someone with a home. But a dozen close calls, and suddenly mortality becomes something else. So he saves his will on the Batcomputer, addressed to his parents but protected by Bruce. And he writes small notes. Thoughts. Ideas. Things he thinks they will appreciate should he be gone one day. And he leaves them lying around. Maybe the mark he makes is hidden in the small things. The post-it notes and exploded overhead lights. Duke would be fine with that.
And then there is Bruce, who - in a way - cannot die. His legacy is the Cave, his brain a part of the mainframe they use to fight crime. And he knows that. He knows that no matter where he goes, he will never be really gone. So he makes sure that one day - long after he has passed - the Batcomputer destroys itself. To set them free. To leave them with the physical memorabilia of Bruce Wayne, and no longer with the desperation of the Bat. It's the biggest love letter Bruce can imagine writing - the possibility of being free.
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maniacwatchestheworld · 2 months
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DPxDC story idea prompt thing #12
Dr. Victor Fries had swore both to himself and his precious wife, Nora, that he would find a cure for the both of them. He would do anything to save his wife from her terminal illness and had been keeping her in a frozen state until the day he could cure her. His precious snow angel. His most beloved ice princess.
But time is a crueler mistress than even the cold. Victor had been apart from his sweet Nora for years now, and he was no closer to finding a cure for her. For his part, Victor Fries was hardly the same man he had been when he and his wife agreed to have her cryogennically frozen until he could save her all those years ago. Victor- better known as Mr. Freeze these days- understood the cold that Nora was trapped in all too well now... But where she rested in her timeless winter slumber, Victor stayed awake.
It had been a freak accident that forced Victor to have to live this cryogenic suit or die. And he would not die. Not until his wife could be saved from the grips of death. He may have been doomed, little more than a frozen corpse spurred on to keep living for the sake of his wife, but if there was even a chance of his wife being cured and able to lead a normal life again, he would take it. There would be no cure for him. No. He didn't want one anymore. Once Nora's life had been saved, that would be enough for him. Once Nora was safe and healthy once more, he would be happy and permit himself to die at last. He often dreamed of feeling that warmth again. The warmth of Nora's hand against his skin. A feeling he could only experience when death finally came for him.
Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, in the reaches of the Realm of the Far Frozen, something was forming. A core of ice, touched with an undying love that had never ceased nor hesitated for a moment over the long, frozen years. And from that core formed a woman, her frozen form in death just as beautiful as she was in life.
She collapsed into the soft, powdery snow, groaning as she slowly opened her eyes for the first time. "Victor...?" She asked into the air. She may have just formed, but she could feel that something was... Wrong. Like she wasn't entirely there... She shivered. She was cold. She was so, so cold... Why did she feel cold? Somehow in the center of her being she knew that this was her element... And something so dear to her shouldn't be able to hurt her... Right...? And yet she felt cold...
She looked up, but found that only one of her eyes could see. It somehow felt as if her other eye was closed and she could not open it no matter how hard she tried, even though she could feel with her fingers that her eyes were both open. No matter. "... Where am I...?" Nora asked aloud as she searched around her for her Victor. Where was he? Where was her Victor...? Had he found a cure? ... A cure for what...? ... Who was Victor?
Note: Just an idea that I came up with. Basically, Mr. Freeze is still doing his Mr. Freeze things in Gotham, but Nora has been frozen for so long in this pseudo-dead state that she half forms as a ghost in the Ghost Zone. I don't know how ghosts get born (or what the fanon says about that), so I'm making shit up here. Just roll with it. :p Nora is technically still "alive" where Victor is storing her... Or rather, she can be brought back to life relatively easily. But her illness isn't gone either, and by all accounts, she's technically dead as all of her biological functions have been perfectly frozen and are inactive. So she's both dead and not dead, you get me? So since she's technically half dead pretty much, I just wondered... What would happen if she somehow managed to form as an at least partial ghost while in this state!!!? Please use this idea and play with it all you like. I just... love Nora so much. Nora my beloved.
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ladyofthenoodle · 4 months
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this christmas i’m thinking about “it’s a wonderful life” and adrien agreste. imagine plagg coming over to marinette’s to talk with the kwamis. he’s concerned about adrien, who hasn’t been himself since he learned the truth about his father. maybe it’s after season 5, and he wasn’t even there to help defeat monarch. and he learns he’s the reason his mother is dead, and now his father too, and his father terrorized all these people to bring his mother back. and he sits on this and thinks maybe things would be better if he’d never been born. maybe there’d be no monarch. maybe his parents would be happy together. and it’s not like ladybug ever needed him, anyway.
plagg came to ask tikki and marinette for help. but it’s fluff who suggests giving adrien what he wants.
immediately, adrien can tell something’s darker about this new world. his mother is alive, but she’s not happy with gabriel. she’s not even in paris anymore—she went back to live with her parents and her sister—who doesn’t have a child, either. his father is even colder than adrien remembers, and he treats nathalie more like a servant than a partner.
still, there’s no monarch. so adrien thinks this world could still be better than one with him in it.
but no monarch means no ladybug. as he walks down the street, he sees mister ramier getting arrested. at school, damocles is nothing more than a puppet that follows andre bourgeois’ orders—which are still chloe’s orders, here, and without adrien or ladybug, she’s crueler than he’s ever seen her. he barely recognizes his friends. nino sits in the back of class and doesn’t speak to anyone. alya reads superhero comics alone with her head down. mlle bustier is gone—fired in within the first few weeks of the school year at chloe’s behest.
and marinette… isn’t there.
he finds out she’s been expelled. no one knows where she is now—alya doesn’t even know her name and no one else has bothered to check on her. he runs to find her, but the bakery’s been shut down—orders of the mayor. he can see the lights on above, though, and that someone is still living there. but when he transforms and lands on marinette’s balcony, its bare. no plants, no decorations, nothing. she’s there in her room though. when he looks through the window he can see her studying with sabine. her desk has nothing but textbooks. no design sketches, no bulletin board of friend pictures, nothing.
when sabine leaves the room, marinette curls into a ball and cries.
that’s when adrien begs fluff to take him back. when he says, “i want to live again. take me back to my lady, please.”
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atthequillsmercy · 2 years
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Lenni Reviews: "Crueler Than Dead" Vol.1, by Tsukasa Saimura & Kozo Takahashi
Lenni Reviews: “Crueler Than Dead” Vol.1, by Tsukasa Saimura & Kozo Takahashi
(Image Source) Maki Akagi wakes up half-naked and injured in an underground bunker with a young boy who seems ill. Unsure of where she is, Maki is shocked by an injured soldier who tells her that the boy and Maki are the last results of an experiment to cure the zombie-infested city above them and this place has the last of an experimental vaccine. Maki takes the boy with her to deliver the…
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mswyrr · 6 months
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Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes makes the main series of The Hunger Games hit better because it's bookended by these two young people at the birth and death of the Games. Coriolanus choosing to become part of this thing, keep it alive when it was waning in power, and make it the effective tool of media/social control it became and Katniss choosing to use her one arrow, her one shot, to end the Games and Coin rather than take personal revenge on Snow.
Both young people are, in their own ways, ordinary. Collins never leaned into the super special YA lead trope. But Katniss is a young person whose inner compass points north and her inner "no" is so strong and that (at the right moment) enables the death of the Games and the whole social order they embodied and reflected. And Coriolanus is someone who (at another key moment) chooses to harden his heart and take the easy path and walking that comfortable path over decades is the mundane seed of evil.
I think it's important that both young people are living in wartime and influence the direction of things in a postwar moment, when where things will go is up in the air. I'm sure tons of other folks had similar choices to make--perhaps people who were even more exceptional in certain ways--but they weren't standing at just the right tipping point and Katniss and Coriolanus were.
As Katniss puts it when Coin invites her and the other surviving Victors to vote for a new Games using the Capitol's children:
Was it like this then? Seventy-five years or so ago? Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games? Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts’ children? The scent of Snow’s rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair. All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hunger Games in an attempt to avoid wasting life. Nothing has changed. Nothing will ever change now. (315)
And that's why Katniss kills Coin rather than Snow at the end. His 75 year old world is gone. A new world is coming to birth (like it was when he was Katniss' age) and she knows that it must not be the world Coin wants. She doesn't know a lot, but she knows that and acts on it.
The timeline of the books isn't of Panem's government in general, but of the Games itself, and it is bookended by these two young people and their choices, to bring it alive or to shoot it dead. Which is why Collins told the story that she told in Ballad - it's not about Haymitch's games or whatever else people want, because that's not the origin story of this thing that Katniss ends, it's not the other bookend of the story, it doesn't reinforce or enhance Katniss' story the same way. Coriolanus' story does.
All of this is why a "born evil" interpretation of him or saying he and Lucy Gray didn't actually love each other compromises the themes of the series IMO. Coriolanus and Katniss have to have real choices made as people who could have chosen another path, and that means he has to have an actual conscience he chose to sear and numb and Katniss has to be someone capable of walking a crueler path, which is why the commonalities she has with Gale and that side of her needs to be clear as well.
They're both kids who are ordinary in some ways and exceptional in others, but not superpowered, they're human. And they both have ordinary human capacities for good and evil. And they both fall in star-crossed love. But then they choose very different things. And so it goes. Coriolanus helps bring a monster to life; Katniss slays it.
Ballad makes the main series ending even better:
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I love the two of them looking across time, across these different deciding moments, at each other, and Katniss making her choice.
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°•°•° dark!rhysand x reader
•°•°• rhysand always gets what he wants. sometimes, it takes longer than others. after finding something of yours, he gets the perfect opportunity to make you his
You never lost your journal. The leather-bound brown notebook was tucked under your pillow, under your arm, or under a loose floorboard in the servant's quarters of Hewn City. That morning, you put it safely under the floors at the base of your small bed. It had every horrible thing you'd done, every ill-thought, and worst of all, how much you hated Prince Rhysand. As his personal servant, you knew more than you should about him. You criticized him, his friends, his sexual escapades with males, females, lesser fae, and High Fae alike.
Hewn City was not kind. Even less so for the servants. Born into it, there was never any chance for you to do anything else with your life. From the time you could walk, it was decided that you would take over for your mother once she decided to step down. She'd had you in her later years, far past the point expected for females to carry. Her own father had put her in a life of debt, and she was expected to work it off. She wouldn't have children until it was dead and gone. She wouldn't put that kind of strain on you.
But, shit happens.
Now, here you were, standing over the open floorboard, the space empty. Your fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging into your skin. You thought you should just leave while you can. High Lord Rhen would take it as an act of treason. For writing those things about his son, he'd surely take a finger. Maybe even your tongue. Whoever had it wouldn't hesitate to turn it in.
Oddly, you felt numb. For now, there was shock, the full scope hadn't hit you. You thought you were clever. You thought no one would find it.
That calm feeling didn't last long. Not when he started reading in a low, mocking voice. Ice practically filled your heart. He found it. Maybe this was the worst outcome of all. "He thinks we all don't laugh at him, that even though we may be beneath him, we will never have to live with his shame and disgrace–"
You cut him off with a whimper, whirling around finally to stop him. He leaned against your wall, sleeves rolled up his arms. His hair had been messy, alcohol wafting off him. His purple eyes tracked you, a predator looking at its prey moments before it strikes. When he did, you knew it would land. Gods, you didn't think you would survive it.
He snapped the journal closed, holding it above his head. Against all rhyme or reason, you lunged for it, body pressed against his as you clawed for it. With ease, he has the two of you swapped, hand on your throat with your back against the wall. You blinked, gasping, as you wondered if he had winnowed or if he was simply that quick.
His wings appeared, spreading wide. The tips just barely missed the walls of your room. It efficiently cut you off from the rest of the room. Light didn't peek above his shadows. It was like Rhysand has suctioned all the light and warmth from around the two of you.
He was furious.
You held your chin higher. So be it. Those words you wrote were true. Maybe if Rhysand were a better male, you would've been able to tell him what you thought. If he were a better male, then maybe he never would've been snooping in his private servant's room.
Rhysand could be good when he wanted.
He could be even crueler when he felt like it.
"Be done with it," You said finally.
His lips pulled upward, his smirk sending chills down your spine. "I'm not going to kill you, darling. Rather, I'm going to make you regret every fucking letter you wrote. Be in my room tonight at midnight," His wings flared once more before they vanished entirely.
He laughed, grin pulled wider like he'd gotten the best idea. "Don't be late. Hell, maybe you should. What's one more thing I get to punish you for?"
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tired-fandom-ndn · 1 year
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Like a low chaos Corvo is objectively crueler than high chaos. He didn't just spare his targets, he went out of his way to learn everything he could to ensure that he destroyed everything good about their lives. He gave them no mercy and felt no remorse, determined to make them suffer just like he and Emily are.
Killing is easy. Stab a man and he's dead and that's that. But Corvo forces them to live after tearing apart the foundations of their worlds, ruining them in every possible way, ensuring that they had no escape from the consequences of their actions and that they would never regain any sort of power or prestige or happiness again.
Compared to all that, a sword through the gut is a mercy.
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jerefishvr · 1 year
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hyde catching
.*.。ଘ xavier thorpe x reader ଓ。*゚
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SPOILER ALERT !!
trope : enemies to lovers <33
summary : when a monster,certainly a hyde, appears and messes up the academy of nevermore , two enemies are determined to find out about the truth and uncover dark secrets, all while fighting and almost sinking teeths into one another.
Xavier Thorpe was a well known student, mostly known for his impressive art and his beautiful face structure, along with his long hair. Yet, there was a girl that despised his guts so bad she almost thought she loved him. Judy Addams. No, she wasn't named after a week day. No, she wasn't as emotionless as her sister Wednesday Addams, but she sure was worse and crueler than her. She craved for something, someone, and the need was urgent.
Judy was walking down the halls of Nevermore in hurry to search for clues of who was the monster that haunted the academy when she bumped into the tall brunette long haired boy, making her roll her eyes while he had an annoying smirk on his face. She looked him in the eyes, no emotion seen on her face whenever she looked at the boy. Something about her made Xavier feel sparks but he didn't know what exactly was making him feel so small in her deadly gaze. Maybe it was her droopy eyes and cherry like lips along with her long black hair that was fixed into braids, just like her sisters, or maybe it was the way her long black skirt would fly around gracefully whenever she took a step forwards as her boots touched the ground.
"Move it Thorpe, you're disturbing my peace and quiet." She said as she walked past him, making sure to shove his shoulder as she did so. This took Xavier by surprise as he chuckled teasingly and turned around to face the dead looking girl.
"And why should i, Addams?" He said while putting emphasis on the Addams. This made the girl roll her eyes and simply ignore him as she continued walking around searching for Tyler, she knew he was the Hyde but she couldn't prove it yet, but she had to.
"I'm looking out for the academy. There's a monster out free and im not interested in any of us getting killed, even your pathetic self whom i hate." She paused and looked at Xavier's reaction before continuing.
"This academy needs proof and im here to provide it and do my best. Now excuse me but i believe i have to go somewhere" venom dripping from her voice as she looked at Xavier, suddenly feeling a tingle in her heart as she saw his beautiful smile. Her own reaction causing her to be surprised, her eyes suddenly softened and her voice now was soft like a melody now, no longer sounding like she could cut thin air. Xavier noticed this and almost panicked when he saw that she didn't look like the living dead and that her eyes suddenly were filled up with stars.
"I won't let you go out there by yourself,you know that right?" He asked the girl, watching her pale face burn up and her hair sticking on her forehead cause of the sudden anxiety she got from just looking at him.
"I don't need a man to protect me from a hyde, the worst it could do was kill me, which i wouldn't mind as id feel death's cold, comforting embrace. And most certainly, I don't need you to protect me" Judy said, not even believing herself as she had disbelief written all over her face as she noticed how her tone wasn't cold and neither did it send chills down Xavier's spine, but it only caused him to smile even more and shake his head.
He grabbed her shoulder and got close to her face, his thumb brushing her bottom lip.
"I'm not that bad as you think i am Addams" He said while smirking and getting closer to her, he could hear her heartbeat which he swore he would never hear as she didn't have one, or that's what he thought.
"Yeah, you're worse" She said and quickly turned around her head while making sure to dust off her skirt and continuing to walk.
He grabbed her hand and spun her around while putting a hand on her waist.
"Why do you hate me so much Judy?" His voice soft, yet broken. He pushed a piece of hair behind Judy's ear and stared at her lips.
"I hate how you're always top one at everything, the way you show off your skills, that stupid smirk you always have whenever you talk to a girl , but you know what i hate more about you? Your stupid smile." She listed like it was just a school project, not caring if she'd hurt him or if she'd make him the happiest man to walk on earth.
The brunette smiled and took her emotionless face in his hands, seeing a spark light up in her eyes as his lips connected with hers. She smiled a little bit and took his hair out of the bun he put it in and hugged him like there was no tomorrow.
Her soul finally felt complete, her black aching heart was now, still black but filled with planets and different types of stars dancing around.
Xavier smiled and caressed the top of her head while closing his eyes and enjoying the moment, before it got interrupted by Judy's sudden gasp.
"I saw something out there, come on we need to go now" The girl said while grabbing his hand and
a / n : i fucking hate the fact i can't find 3 pics from the same scene and have to keep using the same umbrella ones like omfg shut up I'M DONEE, anyways, my crush gave me her chuuya plushie im gonna scream
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jewish-skitter · 10 months
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Didn’t want to derail on a post about Sundancer, but this quote:
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is also pretty notable from a Tattletale perspective. Despite the fact Sundancer hasn’t exactly gone out of her way to be empathetic to the Undersiders and that she stood by even when she found out about Dinah and might very well have stood by if the same thing happened to Tattletale herself, Tattletale is choosing to be kind and reassure her. It’s not entirely selfless— things are easier in Brockton Bay if all the Travelers leave — but there are crueler ways to get her to go.
There’s some parallels there, Sundancer going so far to save someone who’s already dead. A best friend she loves past the point of sense.
Also interesting to me— Sundancer is incredibly hypocritical about Taylor, being disgusted by her brutality in carving out eyes when Sundancer has definitely already killed people by that point and has stood by while worse things have happened. Sundancer ~doesn’t~ turn against Coil (from what I remember, though it’s been a while), even though she feels bad about Dinah. She’s willing to use Dinah and Tattletale’s knowledge if it means fixing Noelle. I almost want to draw comparisons to how Taylor is disgusted by Alec despite/because of their similarities. The biggest difference being that Alec is more upfront about being a bit of a bastard than Taylor is, and Taylor is more upfront about it than Marissa is.
I need to reread some more Traveler-Undersider scenes, but Coil is in most of them. Ugh.
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