#Worl War A

[aqueouserbium]

Me being normal and thinking about digging a hyperfixation on D3-09—the fun and sexy logistics droid they have as a room assistant at Disney World's Star Wars hotel.

Me wanting a fanfic that's D3-09/Reader, but the reader has social anxiety and stays in their room most of the voyage, mostly hearing about the events from D3-09 instead of experiencing them.

Me craving the moment they actually meet during a climatic rescue that's not even at the end of the hotel's story, where the reader frantically runs through the ship to save D3-09 from First Order stormtroopers.

[maid-of-the-golden-deer]

corrin to the random villager they saved: its extremely dangerous but if you want to come i cant stop you

chrom to the random villager he saved: he can come we need more teen soldiers anyway

[annahudyka]

SKOŃCZYĆ Z ZARAZĄ NIM ON ZROBI NAM APOKALIPSĘ!

Wiem, że część z Was na pewno uważa się już za „gnębionych” TYM tematem🙄, jednak ja zostałam zmuszona, by poruszyć go po raz kolejny🤬. Wierzcie mi, też wolałabym napisać o czymś innym, przyjemnym i poprawiającym nastrój (a serio sporo takich właśnie postów mam przygotowanych❗), ale wyłącznie głupi, całkowicie pozbawiony rozumu, bezmyślny nie boi się, nie ma obaw, czytając o zagrożeniu jakie światu może „sprezentować” Rosja w postaci ataku terrorystycznego na elektrownię atomową w Zaporożu❗🤬

...

Czy czasem, w jakiejś konkretnej sytuacji, gdy zagrożone byłoby życie, zdrowie potężnej liczby ludności, dosłownie części naszego globu takie działanie, podjęcie takiej decyzji byłoby usprawiedliwione❓

Czy, gdyby tylko zrzucenie takiej bomby stanowiło ratunek przeciwko eskalacji czegoś bardzo, bardzo złego byłoby nakazem dla tej sytuacji❓ Jak to się chyba w takich przypadkach mówi: wyborem „lepszego” zła❓

Dzisiaj ponawiam właśnie to pytanie❗

...

Dzisiaj, niestety nie jestem w stanie odpowiedzieć jednoznacznie: nie, nie, absolutnie nie wolno tego powtórzyć. 

Dlaczego❓

Ponieważ przyszło nam żyć w sytuacji determinującej nasze myślenie, przemyślenia, ocenę świata, sytuacji. Po nocy z 23/24.02.2022 żyjemy już w innym świecie. Dzień 24/02.2022 nie jest już takim samym światem, jak ten z ranka 23/02.202❗❗❗❗❗❗❗🤬😥

[gyutopia]

worls of sinners ii | sim jaeyun

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: your parents are the head of one of the nation’s most lucrative syndicates and your older brother is heir to the throne which leaves you free to leave this world of evil behind. you’ve been waiting for this day for twenty years of your life, you can practically taste the freedom. what will you do, however, when your parents arrange a marriage for you to bind together their empire with the Lee’s to stop a full on gang war?

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: sim jaeyun x f!reader ft brother!sungchan

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: mafia!au, arranged marriage!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 8.0k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: dark themes, mentions of drugs, mentions of violence, vulgar language, mentions of death, forced marriage, corruption, consumption of alcohol, possessiveness, mentions of blood.

| masterlist | previous | next |

The reception was just as beautiful as the wedding. The soft procession of violins and cellos filled the hall as your guest roamed about the spacious room talking amongst themselves. You secluded yourself to the high table and refused to leave your position to meet any new faces.

You could clearly see the distaste written across your new father-in-laws face as you made it your goal to avoid his business associates but you could’t find it in you to care. While the mobsters scattered around the room drank away their inhibitions and partied like no tomorrow, you sat alone nursing a flute of sparkling cider mourning the loss of your freedom.

Jake tried his best to play the role of a doting husband but gave up an hour later when you did nothing but give him the cold shoulder, you said nothing as he slinked off to go congregate with his close friends, you watched them talk amongst themselves, feeling biter at how easy it was for Jake to let loose and enjoy himself. You bring the flute glass up to your lips and finish it off before placing the glass back onto the table only to be met face to face with Heeseung who stands on the other side. You raise your eyebrows curiously, “May I help you?”

He smirks and scans your face, “I'm sure you can doll.” Your face remains passive, even at the pet name he bestows upon you, you watch him with a blank face as he rounds the table to sit beside you. “Why do you look as if you’ve been shot? Shouldn’t you be happy, it’s your wedding day afterall?”

You scoff, “I’m sure you know why.”

A puff of air escapes Heeseung’s parted lips as he leans back in his seat and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Jake won’t hurt you if that’s what you’re thinking, that boy couldn’t even harm a fly. I have no clue why our father chose to hand over the clan to him. Besides, you have far more pressing matters to worry about”

An eyebrow shoots up at that, “such as..?”

He smirks over the rim of his glass, “producing an heir.” You cringe at the reminder of what is expected of you. You can’t stand even being in Jake’s presence for more than an hour let alone letting him bed you. “I don’t know how things are run over at Jung Empire but the Lee clan is quite old fashioned, the women are expected to look after the children and make sure there is peace between the mafiosos while the men control the bigger things such as the business aspect. Think of it as a game of chess, you may be the queen and Jake is the king but you hold the power on the board, he is nothing without you.”

You frown at his analogy, “I'm not sure I understand.”

Heeseung’s face is void of any emotion as he looks away to stare intently at the back of his younger brother's head, seemingly calculating “I’m sure you will soon.” He turns back to you and offers you one last vibrant smile before standing and walking away.

You watch him walk away, lost in your own mind that’s working in overdrive. You sigh and stand to walk towards the bar to get yourself a glass of whiskey.

As you pass Jake, the song draws to a close and your mother-in-law starts tapping her butter knife against the rim of her cocktail glass, the chatter around the room abruptly dies down. Your eyes locate her by the end of the hall, near the live band with her burgundy nails wrapped around a flute of a dark red wine.

“May I have your attention for a moment please,” she asks, her voice delicate yet firm. Jake makes his way over to you after excusing himself from his friends, he places a warm hand on your shoulder and leans over to place a kiss on your cheek.

You can’t decide what you hate more; the way Lee Yerin stares at you with her hawk-like eyes, scrutinizing your every move or the way Jake slides his arms down to grab you by the waist to assert his claim on you in the presence of his men.

It bothers you how comfortable he seems to be getting with you already but you know better than to brush him off. In your world, possession is everything. It wouldn’t be wise to send a message of strife so early in your marriage.

You’re barely listening as Yerin goes on about how proud she is to finally see her youngest son become a man. You wonder if she means her words, with Jake being the living breathing proof of her husband's infidelity you can’t help but wonder if she harbors any hate for the male. She finishes by thanking the guests for their attendance, before turning back to the two of you with a red-lipped smile that reaches her eyes.

As her speech draws to a close, the room erupts into polite applause, but the tension in the air remains palpable. Jake's grip tightens around your waist, his touch possessive, as if daring anyone to challenge his claim over you. It's a stark reminder of the role you've been thrust into – a pawn in a game of power and ambition.

You glance over at Yerin, her smile still plastered on her lips, but there's a glint in her eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. She may be putting on a show for the guests, but you know better than to underestimate her.

As the crowd begins to disperse, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. But before you can slip away unnoticed, Yerin's voice cuts through the air once more.

"____," she calls out, her tone sweet yet commanding. "A moment, please."

You exchange a wary glance with Jake before reluctantly stepping forward to face his step-mother. Her gaze is piercing, her scrutiny leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

"I hope you're settling into your new role comfortably," she says, her voice laced with thinly veiled authority.

You force a polite smile, nodding in response. "Of course, Mrs. Lee. I'm doing my best to adapt."

Yerin's smile widens, but there's a hint of something sinister lurking beneath the surface. "Good," she says, her tone dripping with insincerity. "Because there's much expected of you as Jaeyunie's wife."

You swallow hard, the weight of her words sinking in. You're well aware that your position comes with its own set of expectations and obligations.

Before you can respond, Jake steps in, his voice firm but gentle. "Mother, perhaps this can wait for another time. ____ must be tired from the festivities."

Yerin's gaze flickers between the two of you, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Of course, my dear," she says, her tone saccharine sweet. "We wouldn't want to keep you from your rest."

With a final nod, you and Jake make your escape, the weight of Yerin's words lingering in the air like a dark cloud. As you slip away into the mass of people, you can't help but wonder what other secrets and challenges await you in this new chapter of your life.

As you and Jake make your way through the crowd, the weight of Yerin's expectations hangs heavy in the air. Despite the celebration, a sense of unease settles over you, casting a shadow over the lavish celebration.

Jake's grip on your waist remains firm, his touch a silent reassurance amidst the chaos. You steal a glance at him, finding a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a stark contrast to the confident facade he wears for the world.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, your voice barely audible over the din of the party.

He offers you a tight-lipped smile, his expression guarded. "I'm fine," he replies, his tone lacking conviction. "Just... adjusting, I suppose."

You nod in understanding, knowing all too well the weight of expectation. It's a burden you both share, a burden that threatens to consume you if you're not careful.

As you reach the outskirts of the crowd, Jake’s grip loosens slightly, allowing you both a moment of respite from the suffocating atmosphere of the reception hall.

"Thank you," you say softly, meeting his gaze with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "For stepping in back there."

Jake offers you a small, genuine smile, his eyes softening with warmth. "Of course," he says, his voice gentle. "We're in this together, ____. No matter what."

As you and Jake navigate through the dispersing crowd, a sudden hush falls over the room, drawing your attention back to the center of the hall. Your heart skips a beat as you see Heeseung striding confidently towards you, his presence commanding the attention of everyone present.

With a flourish, he raises a glass high, the tinkling sound cutting through the silence like a sharp blade. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, his voice ringing clear above the murmurs of the crowd. "I believe it's time for our esteemed mafia leader to take his beautiful wife home."

A ripple of laughter and applause erupts from the guests, their cheers mingling with the strains of the fading music. You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, a sense of discomfort settling in the pit of your stomach as all eyes turn to you and Jake.

Jake's grip tightens around your waist once again, his jaw clenched in irritation at the spectacle unfolding before him. You can sense the tension radiating off him, a silent warning to Heeseung to tread carefully.

But Heeseung pays no heed to Jake's silent threat, his gaze fixed on you with a predatory gleam. "Come now, my dear brother," he continues, his voice dripping with faux sincerity. "Let's not keep your wife waiting any longer."

You feel a surge of resentment bubbling within you, disgusted with the way Heeseung chooses to carry himself and address you as if you’re nothing more than a prize Jake has won to bed.

"I'm sure your wife is eager to get home and enjoy your company in a more... private setting," Heeseung drawls suggestively. This is met with a drunken roar of approval from the men in the room, a few of whom lift their glasses in Jake's direction and laugh salaciously. Yerin observes you carefully over the rim of her cocktail before stepping in. “The car outside is ready to go when you are, my darlings." she adds in, arching a perfectly-shaped eyebrow before raising her glass to you with a smirk. "Welcome to the family, ____."

A lick of ice runs through your veins.

In the next moment, you find yourself flanked from all sides by your bridesmaids, giggling as they pull you from Jake's clutches and shove you towards the exit. Jake groans as his friends do the same to him, trying and failing to get them to stop.

The cool night air hits you like a slap to the face when the double doors are flung open. A black SUV awaits you outside, the suited driver standing to attention on the curb, and the bridesmaids shove you into the back seat.

Next thing you know, Jake is being wrangled into the seat beside you. He sends his best man one last glare before the car door slams shut behind him. The car engine hums to life, and a heavy silence falls upon you as the driver pulls away.

You gaze out of the window for the entirety of the ride to your new residence.

When you finally turn in through the large automated gates of the Lee/Sim residence, you don't even wait for the driver to come around and open the door on your behalf, all but throwing it open in a bid to drag some fresh oxygen into your lungs.

You hear Jake's murmured thanks as he exits the car behind you; however your eyes remain fixated on the modern-style mansion that looms ominously before your eyes like a great, architectural monster.

Wordlessly, he moves past you with keys in hand. He knows you'll follow. After all, what other choice do you have?

The journey upstairs to the bedroom is a quiet one. Several of Jake's maids bow at ninety-degree angles as you pass, their hushed greetings of “Welcome, Mrs. Sim" directed at the expensive carpet beneath your feet, but given no indication that you should acknowledge them, you carry on in silence.

The master bedroom is pristine. So much so that it looks unlived in. As you step inside, you inhale the faint scent of fresh linen, a stark contrast to the lingering perfume of the evening's festivities.

Jake's voice breaks the silence, his tone surprisingly gentle amidst the chaos of the night. "This is your space," he says, gesturing around the room. "I'll be across the hall if you need anything."

You meet his gaze, gratitude mingling with the exhaustion etched into his features. “Okay, thank you.”

He stiffly nods before promptly exiting your room. Once he’s out of sight you huff out a sigh of relief before throwing yourself onto the large mattress. You know you should begin to get ready for bed but you feel drained in every sense of the word.

Just as you’re about to stand to remove your reception gown you feel your phone buzz on your bed. You look up from your seated position to find an incoming facetime call from Haru. You perk a bit, noting you hadn’t seen her or Anton on your way out of the reception.

You quickly answer and prop your phone up against a nearby pillow, adjusting it so you can see the screen while you start getting ready for bed.

“Hello.”

Haru smiles brightly and then turns the camera a bit to show Antons face before they both brightly answer you, “Hi!”

You smile at your two friends. “I miss you guys so much,” you say, letting out a tired sigh. “It feels like ages since I saw you.”

“We miss you too,” Haru replies, her voice filled with genuine concern. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Anton nods in agreement, his expression serious. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to call. We’re always here for you.”

You start to unbutton your gown, feeling a bit more relaxed. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it. Things have been... intense.”

As you step out of your gown, Anton's voice comes through, a bit hesitant. “How are things with Jake?”

You shrug, momentarily forgetting they can’t see you. “We haven’t really spoken. We’re sleeping in separate bedrooms.”

“At least he isn’t a creep who expected you to sleep with him on the first night,” Haru says, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a small laugh, nodding. “True. That’s one thing to be thankful for.”

You slip into your pajamas and pop back into the frame, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “But something is off. I don’t know what it is yet, but I can feel it.”

Anton leans closer to the camera, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

You take a deep breath, deciding to tell them everything. “I was cornered by an FBI agent at the engagement party. He hinted that they know about the dealings of Jake and his family and they have a solid case. I’m going to find out what’s going on and use it as leverage to get out of this marriage.”

Haru and Anton are silent for a moment, processing your words. Finally, Haru speaks up. “Are you sure about this?”

“I have to do something,” you say firmly. “I’m not going to be a pawn in this game. I need to get out of here and join you guys in Paris. My father would have never agreed to this marriage if he knew that the FEDS have a solid case against Jake. I’ll snoop around his office tomorrow and see what I can find.”

Anton’s face is filled with worry. “Please be careful. If he catches you...”

“I know,” you say, nodding. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

There’s a moment of silence as your friends exchange worried looks. Then, Haru smiles softly. “Just remember, we’re always here for you.”

You feel a surge of gratitude for your friends. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After a few more words of encouragement and promises to stay in touch, you finally say your goodbyes and hang up. You place your phone down, feeling a bit more at ease after speaking with your friends.

You lie back on your bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, you’ll start your investigation. You’ll get yourself out of this, it’s you against everyone else. Nothing new.

The next morning, you wake up feeling surprisingly well rested. You dress quickly and make your way downstairs, the quiet of the house almost unnerving. As you enter the kitchen, you find your new husband sitting at the kitchen island. He’s engrossed in his iPad, looking over company spreadsheets while sipping on his coffee.

A maid appears, her presence soft but attentive. “Good morning, ma’am. What would you like for breakfast?”

You offer a polite smile. “I can make myself a bowl of cereal, thank you.”

Jake glances up from his iPad, his expression firm. “No. I’m paying them to take care of you, so you should have a proper breakfast.” He turns to the maid. “Make her some waffles, please.”

You don’t put up much of a fight, knowing it’s not worth the effort. As you try to leave the kitchen to head to the massive dining room, Jake stops you. “Why don’t you take a seat beside me?”

Reluctantly, you sit down next to him. He looks at you, his eyes softer now. “I had all your art supplies moved into the studio down the hall. Thought you might want to get back to painting.”

You’re taken aback by the gesture. “Thank you, Jake.”

He nods, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I have to go to the company for a meeting with the shareholders, so I’ll be gone most of the day. But once I’m back, we can discuss the creative department I plan on opening for you.”

Surprised, you thank him again. This side of Jake is unexpected, you didn’t think he was being serious when he offered to open up a creative department for you when he proposed. You thought it would be yet another empty promise, his kindness leaves you momentarily off balance. He gets up to leave, grabbing his briefcase from the counter. “See you later.”

As he exits, the maid places a plate of waffles in front of you. “Anything else you need, ma’am?”

You look up at her, suddenly curious. “What’s your name?”

“Rose, ma’am,” she replies, her tone respectful.

“Thank you, Rose,” you say warmly. “Would you like to join me for breakfast?”

Rose shakes her head, a faint smile on her face. “It’s not proper, ma’am, but thank you for the offer.” She then moves off to clean the kitchen, leaving you to your meal.

You eat the waffles slowly, trying to gather your thoughts. The house is quiet, and the sense of isolation is almost tangible. Once you’re done, you make your way to the studio Jake mentioned. It’s a spacious room with large windows that let in plenty of natural light. Your art supplies are neatly arranged, and a blank canvas stands on an easel, waiting.

You sit down, picking up a paintbrush, but no inspiration comes. The paintbrush feels foreign in your hand, and you find yourself staring at the canvas, lost in thought. The events of the past few days swirl in your mind, making it hard to focus. You remember the FBI agent’s warning, Jake’s unexpected kindness, and the looming uncertainty of your future.

Minutes turn into hours as you sit there, the paintbrush hovering over the canvas but never touching it. Your mind is too cluttered to create, and the weight of your situation presses down on you. You think about Haru and Anton, wondering if they’re almost done with their preparations to leave Korea, wishing they were beside you now.

Eventually, you set the paintbrush down, realizing that you won’t be able to paint today. Instead, you decide to use the time to start your investigation. You remember Jake mentioning that he would be gone for most of the day, which gives you a window of opportunity.

You leave the studio and make your way to Jake’s office. The door is slightly ajar, and you peek inside to ensure no one is around. Taking a deep breath, you step into the room and begin your search. You open drawers, sift through papers, and check the computer for any clues. But the office is meticulously organized, and you find nothing out of the ordinary.

Just as you’re about to give up, you notice a locked drawer in Jake’s desk. Your heart races as you consider your options. You could try to find the key, but that would take time. Instead, you decide to try picking the lock, a skill you picked up in your younger, more rebellious days.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, you hear a soft click. The drawer opens, revealing a stack of documents. You quickly skim through them, and your blood runs cold as you realize just how cruel your husband can be. You thought your father was bad, but Jake seems to be the devil himself.

As you read through the documents, you uncover records of people Jake has killed, debts he plans on collecting, and bribes that go all the way up to the president. Each piece of paper details horrifying acts—the ruthlessness with which he eliminates anyone who stands in his way, the meticulous planning of each murder, and the extensive network of corruption he maintains. Your hands tremble as you come across a supposed hit list with names of people from Parliament.

Just then, you hear a voice outside the door. Heart pounding, you quickly put the documents back in place and lock the drawer just as Heeseung walks into the room. He looks surprised to find you standing behind Jake’s desk, a smirk curling on his lips.

“What are you doing in here?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with suspicion.

You straighten up, refusing to let him see your fear. “I was looking for a ballpoint pen to sketch with,” you lie smoothly.

Heeseung’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “Is that so?”

You nod, “And what are you doing in my home?” you ask, deflecting the attention away from yourself.

He scoffs at your use of the word “my” and steps closer, his smirk widening. “Your home? Has Jake fucked you well enough for you to be content with being his trophy wife?”

Your eyes narrow in anger as you slap away his hand that was reaching for a stack of papers on the desk. “If you came here to insult me, you can see yourself out. Otherwise, you’ll have to answer to Jake.”

Heeseung lifts his hands in mock surrender, his eyes sweeping around the room as if looking for something. “Jake doesn’t scare me,” he says, his voice low and menacing. “And neither do you. I’m not like Jake. I play rough, so you should watch where you put your hands.”

You glare at him, trying to keep your composure. “I’m not afraid of you, Heeseung. Now, if you don’t have any business here, I suggest you leave.”

Heeseung takes a step closer, invading your personal space. “Or what? You’ll run to Jake? You’re just his pretty little plaything, and you don’t know the first thing about the business we’re in.”

Your pulse quickens, but you refuse to back down. “I’m not just a plaything, and I won’t be intimidated or undermined by you. If you have any respect for Jake and me, you’ll leave now.”

Heeseung smirks, reaching out as if to touch your face, but you swat his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” you snap, your voice steady.

Heeseung chuckles, clearly enjoying the power play. “Feisty. I like that. But remember, Jake isn’t always going to be around to protect you.”

You take a step back, putting distance between you and Heeseung. “I don’t need Jake to protect me. Now get out before I make you.”

Heeseung’s smirk fades slightly, and he seems to reconsider his approach. “Fine,” he says, lifting his hands again. “But this isn’t over. I’ll be back to talk to Jake.”

“Goodbye, Heeseung,” you say firmly, watching as he finally leaves the room. The door closes behind him, and you let out a shaky breath. The encounter has left you rattled, but you can’t afford to lose your nerve now.

You sit back down at the desk, trying to calm your racing heart. Jake and his family truly do rule the underworld, it’s no wonder your father was so quick to wed you off. They’re involved in crimes that go far beyond anything you could have imagined. But this information is also your ticket out of this nightmare. If you can find a way to use it, you might be able to escape and start a new life.

For now, you need to act normal and keep up appearances. You leave the office and head back to the studio, your mind racing with plans and contingencies. Once inside, you pick up a paintbrush and stare at the blank canvas, hoping to appear absorbed in your work should anyone come looking for you. But your thoughts keep drifting back to the documents and Jake. He seems nothing like what those papers claim. He’s been nothing but sweet to you, to think he’s touched you with the same hands that have taken the lives of others makes you want to get up and shower.

Minutes turn into hours as you sit there, pretending to paint. Eventually, the sound of the front door opening and closing signals Jake’s return. You take a deep breath and put on your best calm demeanor, ready to face him.

Jake finds you in the studio, and his face lights up with a smile. “There you are. How was your day?”

“Good,” you reply, forcing a smile. “I spent some time in here, trying to get inspired.”

He nods, walking over to you and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m glad to hear that. Let’s have dinner, and then we can discuss the creative department.”

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety. Dinner with Jake means more time to play your role and gather information. As you follow him out of the studio, you can’t help but glance back at the canvas, the blank space mirroring the uncertainty of your future.

At dinner, you sit across from Jake in the dimly lit dining room. The table is set with fine china and a sumptuous meal prepared by the household staff. Jake starts the conversation, his tone light and conversational.

"How did you spend your day?" he asks, cutting into his steak.

You take a sip of your wine, trying to maintain your composure. "I spent the day in the studio."

Jake nods, chewing thoughtfully. "I'm glad to hear that. I've been thinking a lot about how to integrate your talents into the company."

You raise an eyebrow, interest peaked. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

He leans back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips. "We could start by setting up a small team to work on special projects. Maybe some unique advertising campaigns or custom artwork for our high-profile clients."

You nod, your mind racing with possibilities. "That sounds wonderful, Jake. Thank you for considering my passion."

He smiles, seemingly satisfied with your response. "I think it will be a great addition to our company. Plus, it will give you something to focus on and keep you busy."

You force a smile, trying to hide the unease that bubbles beneath the surface. "I appreciate that. I've always wanted to use my art in a meaningful way."

Jake takes a sip of his wine, his eyes studying you. "I want you to know that I won't hurt you," he says softly, his voice sincere. "We were both forced into this marriage, and I understand how difficult that can be. I won’t take any anger out on you. I want you to be comfortable here, to feel safe as my wife."

You’re conflicted, Jake’s words sound comforting but the papers hidden in the depths of his office scream otherwise. “Okay.”

Jake sets his wine glass down and looks at you with a seriousness that makes you lean back in your seat slightly. “I want to make something clear, though. I didn’t choose this life because I wanted to. My father chose me to take over even though it was Heeseung’s birthright.”

You frown, genuinely curious. “Why would your father choose you over Heeseung? And why would you even accept? You seem so different from him. Why would you want to be involved in such horrid crimes?”

Jake hesitates, clearly not used to talking about his family dynamics. After a moment, he relents. “Heeseung wasn’t ready to take over. He abused the fact that he was the heir. He partied, made reckless decisions, and endangered our entire operation. I thought stepping up would show our father that I was capable and might even fix my broken relationship with Heeseung.”

He pauses, his eyes distant. “I’ve always been undermined because I’m the bastard son. People are finally starting to take me seriously now that my father has given me full reign.”

He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “You must find me pathetic, doing all of this because of daddy issues.”

You shake your head, empathizing with him. “Not at all. I understand more than you might think. Growing up, I was always in my older brother’s shadow. No one took me seriously because I was the youngest and a girl. I did everything I could to get our father to see me, to recognize my worth. But eventually, I gave up. It wasn’t worth all the pain I inflicted on myself and others.”

Jake looks at you with a newfound understanding, a bond forming between you. “I guess we’re not so different after all.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, processing the vulnerability you’ve just shared. Then, you remember the FBI agent from the engagement party. “Jake, what do you plan on doing about the case the FBI has opened?”

Jake shrugs, his demeanor calm. “I’ll deal with it.”

“How?” you ask.

Jake pauses, then looks at you intently. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Yes,” you say, taking his hand. “That’s all I’ll ever want from you—honesty.”

He nods. “I’ll have the lead investigator, the one who threatened you, killed. We’ll make it look like a suicide. Then I’ll pay off the president to close the case.”

You nod slowly, having expected such a response. “I figured as much. Thank you for being honest with me.”

Jake squeezes your hand. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.”

You return the squeeze, feeling a complex mix of emotions—relief, fear, and a strange sense of solidarity. “Thank you, Jake.”

With the heavy conversation behind you, you both return to eating your dinner. The atmosphere between you has shifted; there’s a newfound understanding and mutual respect. As you finish your meal, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you and Jake might find a way to navigate this treacherous life together.

After dinner, Jake stands up and reaches for your hand. “Let’s go to the living room. We can talk more about the creative department there.”

You nod and follow him, feeling a bit lighter. Once you’re both settled on the couch, Jake starts outlining his vision for integrating your art into the company. You listen intently, offering suggestions and ideas, and for the first time in your life, you feel a glimmer of hope that you might be able to carve out a small piece of this world for yourself.

As the evening wears on, the conversation shifts back to more personal topics. You find It isn’t hard to relate to Jake the more you talk to him, surprisingly finding yourself enjoying your time with him. You’re more similar than you expected, and it dawns a new sort of appreciation for him. It was like this entire marriage would seem easier than you thought, especially with an understanding partner like Jake.

Jake shares stories from his childhood, and you find yourself laughing at some of his more outrageous ones. In turn, you share some of your own, and by the end of your last story, there’s a comfortable silence between you.

Jake looks at you, a small smile playing on his lips. “Are you tired?”

You shake your head and sip on your wine before answering. “Not really. Why?”

He grins, looking almost boyish. “How about a movie night? It’s been a long day, and I think we both deserve a break.”

You nod, feeling a sense of relief at the normalcy of his suggestion. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

You begin to get comfortable on the large, plush couch while Jake turns on the tv and scrolls through his streaming service before deciding on ‘10 Things I Hate About You’

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his choice. “Seriously?”

He defends himself, his grin widening. “It’s the best movie ever made. Don’t knock it until you’ve watched it with me.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Alright, you’ve convinced me.”

Jake hits play and sits down beside you, draping a cozy blanket over both of you. As the movie starts, you find yourself relaxing more than you have in days. The lightheartedness of the film and Jake’s occasional commentary makes you forget, even if just for a while, the dark reality of your lives.

About halfway through the movie, you start to feel your eyelids grow heavy. You fight to stay awake, not wanting to miss any part of the film or the rare moment of peace. But before long, you find yourself leaning against Jake’s shoulder, the warmth and comfort lulling you to sleep.

Jake glances down at you, a soft smile on his face. He gently shifts his arm to support you better, careful not to wake you. “Pretty,” he mumbles under his breath, almost to himself. He reaches up and softly caresses your cheek, his touch tender and protective.

As the movie continues to play, Jake finds himself more focused on you than the screen. He watches you sleep, marveling at the trust you’ve shown by falling asleep on him. The weight of the day’s revelations and the growing bond between you settles over him, and he feels a strange sense of contentment.

Eventually, the rhythm of your breathing and the comfort of the moment lull Jake into sleep as well. The two of you sit there, wrapped in the blanket, a small bubble of warmth and peace in the midst of a tumultuous world.

In that quiet, shared slumber, a tentative connection begins to form. It’s fragile and new, but in the darkness of your lives, it shines like a small, precious light.

You wake up the next morning wrapped in Jake's arms, his steady breathing a comfort against your shoulder. As you gently shift, his eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you both just stare at each other, unsure of what to say. This closeness is new to both of you.

Jake clears his throat and slowly separates himself from you. "Good morning."

"Good morning," you reply, sitting up. "I’m sorry for falling asleep on you last night."

Jake waves off your apology with a soft smile. "Don't be. What else are my arms for if not to support my wife’s head?"

You laugh softly, appreciating his attempt at humor. "What are your plans for today?"

He stretches and then looks at you, his expression turning serious. "I have another meeting today. It’s for our... other business."

You catch on immediately, realizing he means the mafia. Nodding, you decide to take a bold step. "Can I tag along?"

Jake looks hesitant. "I don’t know if that’s a good idea."

"Think about it," you reason. "It would be a good look if we showed up together. It might help if no one thinks there’s any strife in our marriage."

He considers your words and finally relents. "Alright, but stay close to me. It’s not the safest place."

As you both stand from the couch, Rose enters the living room with a polite smile. "Good morning, Mr and Mrs. Sim. I'll take care of the living area while you get ready."

You nod and head to your room to shower. The warm water helps clear your mind, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Jake and the strange new dynamic between you two. After your shower, you find a dress laid out on the bed—a tasteful yet elegant piece that you can tell Jake picked out to match his own attire.

You dress quickly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. When you walk out, Jake is waiting, he gives you an approving nod. "You look perfect."

"Thank you," you reply, feeling a bit flustered under his gaze.

Jake leads you to the car, opening the door for you.

The car ride goes by smoothly and in no time you arrive at the outskirts of Seoul. The warehouse you pull up to is surrounded by extravagant cars, a testament to the wealth and power of those inside.

Jake places a protective arm around your waist and guides you into the building, and you’re met with familiar faces—associates of Jake’s clan and big-time mafiosos. He takes a seat at the head of the table and pulls you onto his lap, a clear display of possession and protection.

Sunghoon, Jake’s right-hand man, stands to give his report. “The situation with the baggie boys is getting worse. They’re stealing cuts of our product, and now men from the Lee and Jung borders are going missing.”

You tense at the mention of your family name but stay quiet, tuning into the conversation with more interest.

Jake’s frustration is evident, but he lets Sunghoon continue. “Also, the FBI knows about the illegal acts, not just the corruption within the government. This investigation might be harder to navigate.”

Jake hums in thought. “Have we spoken to the president?”

Sunghoon nods. “The president is keeping a close eye on the case, but it will take time before he can act.”

One of the mafiosos, Byun Baekhyun, speaks up, his tone accusatory. “Is there a rat amongst us?”

Jake’s eyes flash with offense. “You dare question my men?”

Baekhyun doesn’t back down. “It’s a fair question, Jake. How else would the FBI know so much? Someone must be leaking information.”

Jake’s grip tightens on your waist, his anger barely contained. “My men are loyal. Perhaps you should look at your own house before making such accusations.”

Baekhyun leans back, smirking. “I’m just saying, it’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”

The comment lingers in your mind, you make a mental note to discuss it with Jake later.

The meeting continues, filled with more bad news. Sunghoon informs the group that the police are cracking down on the remaining baggie boys, and they’ll likely need to pay another visit to the police lieutenant.

By the end of the meeting, you can tell Jake is out of it. Instead of heading straight home, you suggest, “Would you like to grab lunch with me?”

Jake agrees, and the drive to the restaurant is filled with conversation. “That meeting was intense,” you start.

He nods, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Yeah, things are getting complicated.”

“What about the possibility of a mole?” you ask carefully.

Jake sighs. “It’s something I’ll have to keep an eye on. Baekhyun’s comment wasn’t completely off-base.”

You nod, sensing his frustration. “How’s your dad handling all this?”

“He’s not thrilled,” Jake admits. “He’s been cracking down on me, questioning my decisions. This new info Sunghoon mentioned is definitely going to make him question my leadership abilities even more.”

“I’m sure he knows you’re doing your best,” you offer, trying to comfort him.

Jake glances at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Thanks but my dad doesn’t care about effort.”You frown, trying to think of something to say. “What about the rest of the team? Do they support you?”

“For the most part,” Jake replies, his expression thoughtful. “But there’s always someone ready to step up and point out your mistakes. It’s a competitive environment.”

You nod. “Yeah, I get that.” sielcne settles between the two of you for a moment before you add, “how’s Sunghoon holding up with everything?” trying to shift the focus slightly.

“He’s stressed, but he’s handling it well. He’s been a great support, especially with all the new information coming in.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say. “It’s important to have someone like that on your side.”

Jake’s expression softens. “Yeah, it is. I’m lucky to have him and the rest of the team.”

The car ride continues with a mix of silence and small talk until you reach the restaurant. As you step out of the car, you look at Jake and say, “Let’s try to forget about the meeting for a while and just enjoy lunch, okay?”

He nods, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Sounds like a plan.”

As the two of you get out after he parks, Jake surprises you by taking your hand as you walk down the street. The gesture feels almost normal, like you’re a real couple. You blush but indulge in the rare moment of intimacy.

Seated outside with Jake beside you rather than across, you tell Jake to surprise you with the order. While he speaks to the waiter, you glance around your surroundings, trying to absorb the peaceful atmosphere. Across the street, a familiar figure catches your eye—your brother Sungchan. He’s sitting at an outdoor bar with another man, engaged in a heated discussion. You recognize the man as the chief of police.

Sungchan slides an envelope across the table before standing and leaving. You shrug it off, assuming it’s just work, and turn back to Jake.

He’s placed the order and looks at you, curious. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a smile. “Just saw someone I know. It’s nothing.”

Jake nods, accepting your explanation. The conversation shifts to lighter topics, and by the time your drinks arrives, you feel more at ease.

The waiter, a young man with a charming smile, returns with your meals. He seems overly attentive to you, his eyes lingering longer than necessary. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asks, leaning closer to you than Jake finds appropriate.

Jake’s jaw tightens. “We’re fine, thank you.” He subtly points to your wedding ring, hoping the waiter will catch on. “My wife and I are just enjoying our lunch.”

The waiter doesn’t seem to catch the hint and continues to hover, making small talk with you. Jake lets it go, expecting you to shut him down. But when the waiter comes back with the bill and you still haven’t said anything, Jake’s patience snaps.

He grabs your chin and kisses you sloppily in front of the waiter. The kiss is possessive, a clear statement of ownership. You’re embarrassed yet turned on, feeling a mix of emotions.

The waiter clears his throat awkwardly and leaves. You pull back, looking at Jake with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. “What was that about?”

Jake’s expression is calm, but his eyes are intense. “He was hitting on my wife. I don’t like sharing.”

You nod, understanding his possessiveness but also feeling a strange sense of comfort in his protectiveness. After lunch, you head back to the car, and the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence. As you approach the house, Jake breaks the silence. “Thank you for today. It was nice to have you there, despite the circumstances.”

You smile, “I’m glad I could be there for you. Besides, think of it as a thank you for yesterday.”

Jake parks the car and turns to you, his expression serious but warm. “We’re in this together now. I want us to be a team.”

You nod, feeling a newfound sense of partnership. “Me too, Jake. Two’s better than one, no?”

Jake gives you a small smile, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "Who knows, maybe one day we can be more."

Taking a deep breath, you offer him one last smile before saying, "I'm going to head to the studio and try to paint for a bit. It helps me clear my head."

Jake nods. "That sounds like a good idea. Do you need anything before you go?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks." You give him a reassuring smile before heading towards your studio.

As you walk down the hall, your mind buzzes with the events of the day. The meeting, lunch, Jake's protectiveness-all of it swirls together, pushing you towards your creative sanctuary. When you step into the studio, the familiar scent of paint and canvas immediately calms your nerves.

You set up your easel and prepare your paints, letting your mind drift. The blank canvas in front of you feels like a challenge, urging you to pour out everything you've been holding back. You start with broad strokes, not fully aware of what you're creating until the image starts to take shape.

Hours pass as you lose yourself in the process. You paint with a fervor you haven't felt in a long time, each brushstroke a cathartic release. The image that emerges is raw and intense-a naked girl on a bed, covered in blood and semen, her eyes shut in pleasure. A male hand tightly grabs her right breast, the possessiveness and violence palpable.

As you step back to examine your work, your breath catches in your throat. The hand you've painted is unmistakably Jake's. The realization sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of embarrassment and arousal flooding your senses. You can't believe how deeply he's affected you, invading not just your thoughts but your art as well.

Feeling flustered, you clean your brushes and put away your supplies. You need to clear your mind, to stop thinking about Jake in such a sexual manner. Deciding it's best to get some rest, you leave the studio and head towards your bedroom.

Once in bed, you can't help but replay the day's events. Jake's protectiveness, his vulnerability during your conversation, the way he held your hand so confidently—it all stirs something deep within you. As you lie there, staring at the ceiling, you wonder what the future holds for you and Jake. You turn off the light, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of paint and passion.

taglist: @dreamiestay @sumzysworld

[drunknillawafer]

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader | part 4

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you've joined the Gaang and plan on doing your part in ending the 100-year war.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

helloo here is part 4... thank u for the support so far! i can feel my writing getting better... hopefully you guys like this part hehe... the next one is going to be so... angst... so... zuko... so stay tuned! again i do not own these characters or the atla world >.< enjoy! about 2,491 words & not really proofread at the end sorryyy

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

It was unbearable those first few months, before the move to the Earth Kingdom village. Previous defiance of locking myself in my chambers was a reactive solution to a persistent problem: The Fire Nation. No, I would need a more permanent answer to my problems if I craved peace of mind.

Since the moment Zuko’s screams embedded themselves into my brain, constantly replaying in a cycle of distress, I had not been able to sleep. I would lay down on the large bed with a wine-colored duvet and matching pillow-sheets, hoping the softness would swallow me whole. Take me to a different place than my home.

A lot of things would stop me from the bliss of sleeping.

One of them being my father. He was never one to share a lot with his daughter, let alone exchange kind words or attentive praises. He’s an important man with serious tasks, as he would put it. He doesn’t have time to watch my new fire-bending move or sword progress or whatever it was he most definitely didn’t care for. Over the years, I grew accustomed to our silent agreement. Happily, even. He’ll provide for me, give me everything I ask for, and allow me the freedom of my personal life if I excel in everything that it is I do, surpassing the royal heir’s skills in bending, swords, and education. I suppose it’s why he didn’t care for my special relationship with Zuko. He’d only see it as a move to get ahead in life.

It's what made him such a good General to the Fire Lord.

It shouldn’t have been surprising that he would force me to go to the agni kai. It shouldn’t knock the wind out of my lungs every time I relive the memory of realization that I’d be watching Zuko.

But it does. I couldn’t wrap my head around why. Why did he make me witness such an awful thing?

When sleep did come, I was rewarded with solace. Dreams of flashbacks, a time when I foolishly believed my father cared about the only child he had. There is this one recurring dream that I close my eyes and wish to come every night when I attempt to rest.

The first thing I see is the shamrock grass, crunching beneath my feet. Slowly, the environment pieces together as I fall deeper into my slumber. I see the stone as I walk forward, trading in the pasture for sleek, grey pavement.

Three more steps, and I reach the pond I know so well. This is when comfort finds its way back into my body. I take a deep breath and sigh; I am at the Royal Palace’s turtle duck pond.

Zuko walks up beside me in my dreamland, interlocking his fingers with mine. We stand side-by-side in silence, soaking in the seconds we are in each other’s hands. For a moment, I can believe this is my reality and there is no waking up from this.

Tears form in my eyes and the world around me is suddenly becoming foggy. The green washing away with the grey, becoming blurs in the distance. I can only see Zuko, and he is looking at me, and we are so beautiful.

I wake with a gasp from the one bliss in the round ‘o’clock torture I receive and begin the cycle again. Sometimes I lay back down and wish to return, other times I just lay awake and contemplate what I’m going to do about the pain. The truth.

Years of propaganda washed away in a single decision of the brutal man that calls himself my father. I can finally see clearly. The Fire Nation is a plague to the world, we’re not sharing our greatness. We’re a disgrace to life, and we deserve every bit of shame at our doorsteps.

I’m ashamed to be from this nation, and a fire-bender. A gift that could be warmth is destruction and chaos and terror. Who would ever want to be all those things when we could choose to be soft?

What is one girl’s opinion against a whole nation. A melancholy, depressed, broken-hearted girl at that. They’d never take me seriously. I’d have to try my chances with the outside world. Maybe I could hide my bending, pose as a swordswoman, find a group of some kind. A group who sees things as I do.

My body relaxes at the thought of a solid plan. I don’t know how I’m going to manage it but, I’m leaving the Fire Nation. And I am not looking back.

Jeong-Jeong’s headquarters were built on a piece of land peeking through a steady river. It was a small, tan-colored shack with many similar structures built around it. It was a sort of community of Fire Nation deserters who did not wish to be found.

Katara, Aang, Sokka, and I were taking a pit-stop here to let Master Jeong-Jeong teach the Avatar how to fire-bend.

While the rest of them were by the river, fishing, water-bending, or learning from the Master, I was alone, pacing back and forth from tree to tree deeper into the forest, wondering what to do.

If things here don’t work out for Aang, who would be left to teach him? Fire Nation deserters are not common and those who are fire-bending masters less so. My original plans no longer worked. It wasn’t about hiding my identity and being with the Freedom Fighters anymore. Now, my mind is set on helping Aang take down the Fire Lord.

I just kept stalling it. I hadn’t practiced my bending in front of people for years and suddenly I had to help a twelve-year-old take down an empire. Maybe Jeong-Jeong could do it for me, maybe not.

But one thing was clear: it was time to come clean to my friends. The days keep moving and the nights keep passing, and I’m becoming a part of their group just as quickly. I was never meant to keep this all to myself.

They aren’t like Jet. They can handle it, they can see. They would understand because they’re not here to cause more pain, harm, or war. They know me, they know I want to have peace as much as they do. The worst thing that could happen was I’d be off on my own again, but at least this way, I’d be honest.

Walking back in the direction of Jeong-Jeong’s hide out, I spotted Katara and Sokka by the river on their own. They were giving Aang his own space with his teacher, a few hundred feet away.

“Hey, Y/N, where’ve you been?” Katara asks, as she practices a bending move she’s working on. The water moves gracefully knowing it’s safe in her hands.

“Just… over there…” Awkwardly, I gesture with my hand to the forest.

Holding his fishing pole, Sokka raises his eyebrow at my poor attempt at a smooth reply. “Right… over there.”

I sit down on a log stump between Sokka and Katara and stare at the water for a moment. Is it really necessary that I do this? Do they have to know, I question in my mind.

Yes, of course, the sane part of my brain answers. Anything to stop the Fire Lord, anything to put an end to all of this. Remember? My conscious tells me. I do.

“I have to tell you something.” I finally say.

Sokka and Katara glance at each other, confusion radiating out of their eyes.

“What is it, Y/N?” Katara asks. She allows the water to flow back into the river, pausing her bending practice to sit down on the log stump next to me. She nods in encouragement. Sokka’s standing on my left, waiting patiently for my words.

“I want to start with, I didn’t mean any harm by this. I made the decision a long time ago to hide when I was hurt and lost,” I pause. Sokka tilts his head, still confused. “When I was thirteen, I saw my best friend get burned by his own father in an agni kai. An agni kai is a traditional fire-bender duel and is won when one opponent burns the other. We were 13.” Trembling, I let the words come out. “It shattered me. I was never the same.”

“So, you’re fire nation?” Sokka asks. I look up at him and see his face. A new kind of hurt was washed on it.

“Yeah. And a fire-bender.” Looking back at the river, I confess. “I ran away from home a few months after it happened, when my father and I moved to an Earth Kingdom village. The same village you helped save, Sokka.” The compliment does little to distract him from the truth I just spilled. “I found Jet and the Freedom Fighters, and they helped me. They gave me a bed, food, and a home. But then Jet turned out to be…” Katara winces. It goes without saying how my former leader betrayed his values. “You guys know he would never accept me, so I hid my true self. And I don’t want to keep secrets anymore. We have the chance to stop the Fire Lord here, and I want to do everything I can to help. As someone born in the Fire Nation, it’s my duty to help restore our honor.”

The two siblings remain quiet for a moment, processing the information. “You’re a victim too.” Katara is the first to speak. “They’re just as violent with their own.” She puts a hand on my shoulder, comforting me after rambling out my past. Sokka walks away, barely letting the dirt and sticks make noise under his steps.

“Sokka!” Katara calls out to him. She gets ready to get up on her two feet, but I stop her.

“I’ll go.” I reassure. She nods and sits back down, watching her friend and her brother walk away.

After we’re out of Katara’s sight, Sokka stops in his tracks with a couple of feet in between us. I want to give him the space he needs.

Sokka turns around, his eyes instantly meeting mine. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He says, calming the stampede of anxiety in my veins.

“I’m sorry too.” Softly, I reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I… was so used to hiding. It’s my first time telling anyone since I left.” I explain. His arms are folded, creating an imaginary barrier between us.

“I should know that the girl I like is Fire Nation! I’ve never liked anyone from that place!” He exasperates. We both let the blood rush to our cheeks about the nature of his feelings.

We hadn’t really talked about it since he told me back at Aunt Wu’s village. There were small things. Miniature movements and gestures that told me things had changed. Like when he brought me a rock that reminded him of my eye color or brushing his hand against mine when we walk side-by-side. Sokka and I could train in swords while Katara teaches Aang what she knows. He’s learned some of my sparring tricks, I’d have to switch it up on him soon. But it was diverting. Being around him felt like all the molecules in my body lit up. At the sight of his ocean eyes, I’d turn into a softer version of myself. One I lost amid the chaos.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve been there recently! Maybe that’s why you didn’t detect me!” I say, keeping it playful. He shoots a direct glance at me, letting me know he’s being serious. I drop the jokes. “I hope we can still be… okay, though.”

“We’re okay, it’s just going to take some adjusting. I mean, you used to be our enemy… But I trust you, ever since Jet.” He uncrosses his arms and plants them by his side. “Is there anything else? I’m not going to find out you have a pet dragon, right?”

“No,” I reply, walking toward him. “Not that I know of anyway.” My footsteps stop a few inches away and I smile up at him. The tension from my confession has dissipated into the air, becoming part of the clouds, and now there’s just a little bit of space between us.

“Good, I couldn’t handle that.” A smile is fighting to erupt on his face.

I swear he’s about to lean in when-

Katara screams in pain from the direction of the river. Our bubble of infatuation is popped, and we dash back to Jeong-Jeong’s hideout.

As we rush in, I see Katara holding her hands close to her chest and a fearful Aang. Jeong-Jeong’s face says it all. He burned her.

“Look at what you did! I told you we shouldn’t have come here!” Sokka’s overprotective nature kicks in. He runs to his sister’s side, but she hides her hands away from him. Probably to protect the wound and… Aang.

“Katara, I’m sorry!” Aang pleads.

In a crying hurry, she runs away. Sokka motions to follow her but I stop him. “I’ll go, you calm down. Be easy on him.”

He huffs at me. “Fine.”

☆

Katara’s leaning over the river when I first spot her. Her hands are in the water, flashing a white light as her cries soften. She doesn’t notice me.

I step closer and closer as I watch her witness the glow. Once the light dims and she pulls her hands out, I’m close enough to speak.

“That’s a healing ability.” I let her know. My voice catches her by surprise, but it doesn’t affect her any more than her new-found talent. “Water-benders are gifted with the ability to heal wounds. It’s like a medicine.” I explain.

“How do you know this?” She asks. I sit down next to her as she’s resting on her ankles, both of us facing the continuous river. If we followed it in the other direction, we could find Jeong-Jeong’s hideout again.

“My father always told me to fight your enemy, you must know your enemy. So, I learned a lot about the rest of the elements. Your basic aristocratic education at home. Didn’t someone teach you?” I question.

“No.” She looks down at her hands. “My mother died in a Fire Nation raid. They took all our water-benders.” The pain contorts her face. I see.  

“Is that why Sokka reacted like that?”

“Yeah.” She nods.

“Oh.” Seconds of silence pass, letting our recent exchange process in our minds. I attempt to make her feel better. “Water can heal, it’s lucky. It’s ethereal. All fire seems to do is destroy.”

“It’s powerful.” Katara says.

“He didn’t mean to hurt you, yaknow.” I defend the young Avatar. “Without proper control, it can get out of your hands. Then, all you can do is sit and stand. It’s not like the other elements.”

“I understand. Maybe Jeong-Jeong was right, maybe Aang isn’t ready to fire-bend.”

“I don’t think he is.”

[elderflowergin]

A little rant about MBC My Dearest, purity and men who weaponise it:

(Trigger warning: sexual assault, rape as a war crime)

Fusion sageuk or not, this world has some set rules around purity, even in the relatively loosey-goosey Neuggeunri, where women and men can and do commingle, chat and meet in groups. The last barbarian invasion hangs over them; the old ladies in Gil-chae’s hometown tell the girls that death is better than allowing the barbarians to touch you and that if they do, you should kill yourself for the sake of said purity. Death is preferable to lost purity in this time/place; that’s firmly established from the beginning of the show. (It’s reinforced midway when Injo’s court reports of women who jumped off cliffs into the sea at Ganghwa rather than be taken by barbarians, no doubt perceived not as an avoidance of pain and torture, but a praiseworthy act designed to retain and restore purity).

Gil-chae and Eun-ae have to grapple with this when Eun-ae is attacked by a barbarian. Eun-ae was violated and felt violated by what happened. They know what they are supposed to do, what the old ladies told them to do; and yet Gil-chae holds Eun-ae close and says, nothing happened. We were hurt and our clothes were torn because we rolled down a mountain. Nothing happened to us. She rewrote that story, in the face of everything that said Eun-ae didn’t deserve to live anymore. Consummate survival requires rewriting stories, even the ones that are the hardest to paper over.

Because it appears again in Hanyang, in relative peacetime, when Eun-ae feels she cannot accept Yeon-jun’s proposal, because even if Gil-chae rewrote that story, it’s harder to reconfigure shame when it’s under the skin, when it’s attached to the thing that makes you valuable as a woman. Yeon-jun may never know what it took for his future wife to survive, and that ignorance too, is a privilege. But Eun-ae knows, and perceives her value differently now than before. It’s Gil-chae who persuades her again, who reminds her that they rewrote this story together, two women who survived against all odds.

In this postwar, still somewhat vulnerable time, the possibility is high that there are assault survivors around, just as there are women who may have had to sell their bodies to feed their families, or broken any number of rules around purity for survival. It’s foreseeable that women survivors have been through or seen unimaginable things happen to other women, to their friends and have experienced it themselves. I’m not saying this to undersell the general trauma of war on men - just to say that war crimes hurt women in a very different, very intensely long-lasting way* as compared to theatres of war and fighting.

All of this to say: it didn’t take Jang Hyeon very long to go from “you’re not as pure as you think you are for loving a taken man” a few episodes ago to “you couldn’t live without a man for a day? If you were going to give it away you might as well come to me at least once.” I am truly horrified that he pretty much gets away with it; Gil-chae moves with the punch and gets in a hit of her own, but that’s a bone-chilling thing to tell a woman, any woman. It would be a terrible thing to say to a woman now, let alone in a time when that mattered so much to women, let alone in a time and place where it was forcibly taken from so many women, many of whom died so it wouldn’t be.

This callous attitude continues later when she’s run away with him and they’re in a room for the night. She tentatively asks about marriage, saying that it would be hard for her, since she’s almost a married woman, and people would consider her “used”. (Her fiancé later tells Yeon-jun that he is permitted to kill his partner and the adulterous lover, so this isn’t a gossip without consequence.) In essence, Gil-chae put her life on the line for a man who still says “Husband, no. I am your servant and my body is yours”, a promise that carries little substantive meaning in their world. Marriage isn’t a luxury good that she’s asking for as a whim. It’s what protects Gil-chae and her family from harm; it’s what will allow her sister to find a suitable match later on.)

Jang Hyeon is shown from the start as a man of his own ideas, someone who who doesn’t truck with traditional Joseon morality. He can and does reinvent rules for himself, and clearly doesn’t think that much of notions of purity, but he’s fine using them against Gil-chae.

Yes, Jang Hyeon saved her life during the war, but Jang Hyeon also had the choice of participating or not, the luxury of stepping back if he so chose. Gil-chae had no such luxury, no such choice, an open target on the run. He no doubt understands that the barbarians are raping women, that to survive as a woman is fraught, that sex has become fraught. To use purity to attack a woman he claims to love, to reduce her momentarily the way those old women did - to express his anger by lashing out in this way, in a way calculated to hurt, to violently pierce at the foundation of what it means to be a woman in this time and place is a cruelty that is hard to countenance. It’s telling that his anger at her leads him there, that it escalated with all that time, because he knows that’s what hurts. He knows it’s valuable, knows it hurts when he strikes at it, and yet will do little to protect it for her. I don’t know if there’s any amount of growth that will change this, whether it’s something he can change at all.

There are many upsetting things about this episode, but Gil-chae’s choice to stay at the end is the least upsetting part of it, and the most conceivable, intelligent choice she could have made in the face of a man who - in her perspective - can only offer her fervent words and a feverish gaze, things that will not feed her family or protect her reputation, her business or her heart.

[spotaus]

Orchid-doodling!

Daughter of Destruction and Negativity, heir to Nightmare's title, and the most delicate flower in the multiverse. (More lore ramble under the cut)

Orchid is, in fact, an errormare ship-kid. She was created after a multiverse-wide battle left Night at a disadvantage. He made a deal with error, that they'd worl together for a time to create an "ultimate weapon" from their combined magic.

Of course, the moment she fully formed, Night was enamored. It didn't take long for him to deem her his pride and joy (internally of course). In his base, he constantly doted over her whenever he could.

She was meant to be a secret, though. He intended to raise her to be his heir, but he also wanted her to take the multiverse by surprise. She never left his base, and only close allies knew of her existence. Still, Night was a good father to her, if not new and inexperienced.

Then there was the accident. Orchid had been running around, playing with her magic and getting out her little-kid zoomies. The rest of the base was busy, but not too far off. It was still not close enough, and she tripped *really* badly down the stairs. Full tumble, and her bones were more thin than the average skeleton. Her right leg shattered and broke off at the femur, and half her skull smashed open.

Of course, she cried loud enough that everyone heard it, but Night had already rushed away at the first sense of overwhelming fear coming from her general direction. He'd healed her as thoroughly as he could, buy her leg had dusted much too quickly, almost instantly. He'd underestimated how fragile she really was.

She survived, but she struggled with memory problems and getting used to the new lack of mobility for quite a while. All her childish energy seemed non-existant for like, almost two years.

Then, just as she was hitting her teen years, Night was drawn into a truce. He decided to allow more allies, and more people to visit his domain. Orchid was oblivious to the first war that occurred. The one that ended with an innocent person's death and the wrath of Death himself.

So, when Reset (son of Reaper and Geno) shows up and finds her, she's found herself with a new friend that she honestly didn't want but did in fact need in the long run. (Upper right doodle portrays these two.)

After meeting Reset is when Orchid's depressive stage ends, and she becomes determined to get stronger. (Strong enough that Night will let her leave the base and trust her on her own). Reset effectively kicks off her villain arc hehe~

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #18 – Montress Volume 3: Haven by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

I have been reading one volume of this comic a month, in part as a way to force myself to take it a bit slowly and appreciate the issues and volumes as distinct arcs and works in their own right instead of archive binging, and in part because a volume of comic books being more than ~20% of my reading goal for the year feels like cheating. This has accomplished both of those goals splendidly, but it is making it increasingly hard to come up with different ways of talking about the basic premise of the story. So I’m just not going to.

The plot picks up fairly directly where the last plot dropped off – with Maika having escaped the last maratime city-state she’d found refuge in (now wanted fugitive) and settling into the next one. To secure safety for herself and her little crew of misfits (eldritch god-monster her mom bore and raised her to be a host for, adorable fox-child she treats like shit, terrible cat who betrays everyone, improbably hot noble magic assassin whose technically supposed to be murdering her), she’s conscripted by the royal engineer to assist in repairing the ancient magical shield which protected the city during the last war – which, due to her heritage and the aforementioned eldritch god, she might be the only one capable of safely accessing. That (literally) blows up in everyone’s face just about immediately, and the remainder of the arc is spent scrambling to deal.

Dramatically the volume works very well as a self-contained narrative, though a decade of marvel movies have left me kind of incapable of taking a big climax involving an apocalyptic glowing hole in the sky that seriously. Beyond that though, this is definitely a Lore volume, digging deep into the history of the Shaman Empress, her relationship with Zinn, and what the other Montrum are or want. It also, if my memory is right, marks the point where Zinn finishes transitioning from this terrible quasi-unknowable parasite ruining Maika’s life and turning her into a walking atrocity to just, like, Some Guy. They’re a little shit with an improbably amount of flattering amnesia and also murder a bunch of people but like, they’re a character now. They banter with Maika constantly, and also keep fucking up and being wrong about things. Deeply endearing tbh.

This also marks the point where The Doctor and Maika’s paternal family more broadly starts being a lot more plot-relavent which, going to be honest, I’m kind of dreading. Can’t remember any real details but my memories of the whole upcoming arc basically boil down to ‘at least Maika got that badass clockwork prosthetic out of it’.

Kippa and Ren are basically irrelevant to the actual plot this time, which is totally fine because I love them both dearly and would have happily read an entire issue of them going shopping and having a nice day in the market. Kippa, besides being adorable, does actually get some pretty meaty scenes providing the view from the gutter here though – Maika gets scooped up by a scheming vizier engineer as soon as she walks into town, and also hates people, but Kippa is absolutely the sort of person to go wandering through a sprawling refugee camp doing whatever she can to help. Which is both good worldbuilding and characterization and provides some desperately needed grounding to keep the whole story from vanishing entirely into mythic freudian psychodrama.

Speaking of preferring the social and political storytelling – I’m not sure they ever actually matter, but I do love the two bit characters who occasionally get scenes of their desperate heroic spycraft and diplomacy as they try everything they can to prevent another war breaking out. Their little bit in this volume also does a great job illuminating what a broken mess the politics of the Federation is – given the incredibly vague 1930s-East-Asia analogy underlying the story’s geopolitics, I like that the genocidal power about to plunge the world into war is riven with internal contradictions and five minutes away from a coup with the army and navy barely able to stand in the same room without gunfights breaking out).

Anyway yeah, it’s still Monstress. Still good! I probably sound like a broken record saying it at this point, but the character design remains just sublime, even for very thoroughly secondary characters. Speaking of, my favourite one has now shown up!

[mariacallous]

The title card that opens 1979’s original Mad Max places the action in a very near future, looming just “a few years from now.” George Miller’s cult action-thriller captured the edginess of a world teetering on the brink. The film depicts a not-quite-postapocalyptic Australia, where gangs of high-octane galoots rove the roadways on motorbikes and souped-up muscle cars, attempting to outrun the last of the lead-footed policemen: Mel Gibson’s Max Rockatanksy. Revisiting the film is exceptionally rewarding—and not just because of the grit, oddball humor, and verve of Miller’s directing. It reflects something of the ambient tensions of a world of potentially perilous fuel shortages, which threatened the whole petrol-and-plastic framework of our modern world.

Miller recalls this era with no particular fondness. He remembers, in the mid-’70s, all of the gas stations in Melbourne shutting down. Save for one. The mood was sour. The tension was thick. “It only took 10 days,” Miller says, “in this very peaceful, benign city for the first gunshot to be fired. Someone got ahead of a long queue, that went on city blocks, to get fuel. If that could happen in just 10 days, what would happen in 100 days?”

Across five films, including the new Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, Miller’s franchise tracks this decline. In the original picture, the world is still fairly intact. There are diners and hospitals and happy families. People even dress more or less normally. It can feel a bit like our world: one which is collapsing but hasn’t yet totally buckled. By the time of 1982’s Mad Max 2 (released in the US as The Road Warrior), any vestiges of civilization have been blown away by an accelerated period of resource warring, nuclear conflict, and ecocide. Humanity survives in clans and roving bands, dressed in feathers and dusty leathers.

By 1985’s Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, civilization relies on bartering for commerce, harvesting pig shit for methane, and conflict resolution by way of gladiatorial combat. In the smash hit 2015 long-gap sequel, Mad Max: Fury Road (which recast Rockatanksy, putting Tom Hardy in the lead), things were almost cartoonishly bad: Fertile women were ferried across vast wastelands in tanker trucks, access to fresh water was hoarded by tyrannical dictators in skeleton half-masks, and all of humanity seemed to exist in a state of berserk, whooping madness. If that first film was warning—against the fetish for speed and power, against excessively extracting precious riches from a planet that could scarcely afford to give them up—the newer pictures feel not so much prescient as present: sado-comic visions of our own maddening, resource-starved world.

The Mad Max films are driven by a guiding incoherence. They offer a critique of car culture, resource scarcity, and the very things that may well have our world motoring toward its own demise, no matter how many EVs we buy. Denizens of the desolate wastelands exalt automobiles, motorbikes, engines, and especially gasoline as fetish objects. But at the same time, the films’ pleasures are guilty of this same exaltation. The thrills derive from high-octane racing, dangerous automobile maneuvers, body-mangling crashes, and the whole vroom-vroom of it all. They’re like war movies that ask us to thrill at the violence and daring of combat, while all the while muttering, “This is actually really awful, you know.” There is no effort to reconceive a world doomed by its pathological obsession with machines chugging on crude oil. Rather, the apocalyptic backdrop only furnishes fantasies of further decline.

Perhaps it’s a mistake to take films with characters called “Pig Killer,” “Rictus Erectus,” and “Pissboy” too seriously. But the Mad Max pictures underscore a deeper absurdity that undergirds the genre of postapocalyptic, ostensibly environmentalist (or at least environmentally sympathetic) entertainments that are often referred to as eco-fictions, or cli-fi, for “climate fiction.” “The climate crisis and grotesque climate inequalities are things that we are really struggling to process,” says Hunter Vaughan, an environmental media scholar at Cambridge University. “These films are touching on our collective inability to adapt to this crisis.”

Vaughan is the author of Hollywood’s Dirtiest Secret: The Hidden Environmental Cost of the Movies. His text analyzes the environmental impact of the film industry, from early Hollywood to the present. Understanding the industry as inherently (and devastatingly) resource-reliant, he has come to view the very idea of “environmentalist movies” as a bit of an absurdity. “Films like Mad Max and Avatar,” he explains, “are just doing what Hollywood has always done, which is rely on choreographed violence and the enticement of spectacle. But they get to offset that to some degree by coming across as having some sort of environmentalist message.”

The whole notion of “cli-fi” as a genre suggests something a bit ominous: that the well-meaning parables of early climate fiction have now become subservient to the demands of the genre. Take Denis Villeneuve’s Dune pictures. While perfectly competent as pricey pieces of blockbuster cinema, they barely engage with the novel’s ecological concerns. Author Frank Herbert was originally inspired by the historical ability of certain indigenous civilizations to live in harmony in even the harshest environments—a noble idea that, in the Hollywood version, takes a backseat to woolly ideas around interstellar jihad and the sheer pageantry of the proceedings. Likewise, Mad Max's original warning siren has waned a bit, as the films developed their own generic language. The collapsing world is now just a canvas across which (wildly entertaining) action scenes unfold.

However absurd it may seem to scholars, Miller seems to come by his environmentalist sympathies honestly. Even outside of the Mad Max movies, many of his pictures touch resonant themes about global warming (Happy Feet), vegetarianism (Babe and its sequel), and the essential destructiveness of the modern world (Three Thousand Years of Longing). These realities have directly impacted his films. Fury Road’s production was long delayed, in part, because the Australian desert where Miller planned to film was suddenly swamped—a direct result of unpredictable climate patterns. “I see it myself,” the director says of climate change. “It’s all around us. I’ve seen both the hard statistics, and just in my own experience. So it can’t help but seep into the story.”

Furiosa is unique among the Mad Max films in that it offers an alternative to the arid, violent, boiling wastelands that dominate the franchise’s topography. The origin story of Charlize Theron’s fierce road warrior from Fury Road, the film opens in “the Green Place”: an Edenic garden governed by a tribe of warrior-women, which stands out as a lush oasis in the desert. For Miller, Furiosa offered an opportunity to one-up himself. Fury Road proved he could make a hit Mad Max movie without Mel Gibson. Now, he hopes to show he can make another without Max (though he does appear, very briefly). “If you just do the same thing again and again, there’s hardly any point,” he says. “There’s an inherent cynicism to it.”

Snatched from safety, Furiosa (played by Ayla Browne as a child and Anya Taylor-Joy as an adult) is raised among a motorcycle death cult, led by the madman-prophet Dementus (Chris Hemsworth, sporting an impressive prosthetic schnoz). In time, she’s traded away to Immortan Joe, Fury Road’s big bad, and learns to survive and thrive among his clan of face-painted, aerosol-huffing cultists. Building out the world of Fury Road, Furiosa traces the fragile trade dynamics between three strongman leaders, each hoarding a key resource: fresh water, fuel, and bullets. As Furiosa navigates these violent trade routes, she hatches her own plan to avenge herself on Dementus and burn rubber back to the Green Place.

In actually bothering to imagine what some alternative to the wasteland might look like, Furiosa moves past the typically narrow horizons of most cli-fi. Nicole Seymour, who teaches environmental literature at California State University, Fullerton, notes that most environmentalist narratives stop short of actually conceiving of what a new, better world might look like. “I think that would require you to do more implicating, and more work,” she says, “which no one wants to do.” She notes that most utopian environmentalist literature tends to buck the mainstream, foregrounding more diverse characters. “Do they want to make a movie about a Puerto Rican transgender person who time-travels?” she asks. “I would watch that!”

There’s a shopworn quote attributed to the late critic and theorist Mark Fisher, about how “it's easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism.” Certainly, in the Mad Max movies, the basic systems that led to our destruction—resource hoarding, the primacy of tribal violence, the fetish for power and speed—remain intact. The sinister logic imparted to the audience is that, well, ecocide is inevitable, and so there’s little left to do than revel, laughing mad, in the explosive spectacle of our own destruction. To which an admirer of these films (like this writer) may sensibly, or cynically, respond: OK, sure … but what a spectacle.

For his part, Miller maintains that there’s a deep humanism at the core of these films, buried beneath the scrap heaps of twisted metal. “I’ve been to places where there is a lot of trauma and poverty,” he says. “I’m always impressed by the ability for survival. This is about our survival.”

[gerec]

any of these d/s universe fics?? I mean not exactly bdsm fics, but those fics that take place in a universe where people are born subs or doms (like something genetic, I don't remember this verse lore do much... ) do you remember? This used to be popular in the fandom but I can't find it anymore.

Lots of great d/s verse fics in this fandom, Anon! Here you go - happy reading :D

Nation Building and other Diplomatic Negotiations by Pookaseraph

With the recent passage of a submissive registration law in the United Kingdom, there are now only two industrialized nation with a relatively stable government to have neither a mutant nor a submissive registration law. Erik Lehnsherr, the newly minted King of Genosha, and his Prime Minister Emma Frost intend to take advantage of this turn of events to bring the Xavier Institute to the island nation of Genosha. They both know bringing Charles Xavier, the noted activist of mutant and submissive rights, to the island will necessarily politicize the man, and create all manner of complications. With a constitution not yet finalized and external threats to Genoshan security all around them, Erik, Emma, and Charles will fight for what they believe in to shape Genosha into what it should be.

Put me in the backseat, and they took me for a ride by tahariel (Backseat 'verse series)

When Erik enters the bedroom, pausing on the threshold just to look, near shivering with excitement, his new sub is waiting for him, laid out on top of the bedclothes like a present. He’s draped with a length of rich black silk, which clings to his naked body and hides nothing, accentuates everything.

Erik’s mouth runs dry.

Coax me out my love low by tahariel (Frontseat 'verse series)

It's hard enough waiting a year to meet the man you're engaged to, but harder still when that man doesn't even want to stay bonded to you. Charles is determined, however, not to let Erik get away.

Unbound by Cesare, helens78 (Bound and Determined series)

Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Imprint by PoorMedea

The moment of imprinting: overpowering, irresistible, and most importantly, uncontrollable. As Charles and Erik are about to find out.

Never Need to Make You by Pookaseraph

Erik had always been alone, and he never expected to find a Dom that would suit him. He certainly never expected Charles Xavier to claim him just minutes after he failed to kill Schmidt in Miami, his mind in turmoil. He hated it, but at the same time he couldn't deny that Charles seemed to know exactly what he needed.

Homeward Bound by Cesare, helens78 (Homeward Bound 'verse)

An alternate version of the Charles/Erik story from the Bound and Determined universe, in which (with Edie's help) Charles and Erik meet as young teenagers.

Support Your Local Claiming Center by Not_You

Erik is a sub who has quite literally been to the wars. He's older and more damaged than he thinks anyone wants. Charles proves him wrong.

surrender doesn't have to mean defeat by deacertes

 In a world where partnerships between Dominants and Submissives take place under the watchful jurisdiction of The Institute of Designation, Charles Xavier is a kindly, cardigan-wearing Dom who opposes many elements of the official system. Meanwhile, Erik Lehnsherr's past has taught him to struggle against his Submissive inclinations.

When the two are placed together by the Institute, Charles has to find a balance between his conscience and his desires, whilst trying to teach a conflicted Erik that surrender doesn't have to mean defeat...

Hold Back the Rain (front!strict mashup) by euphorbic

Charles Xavier: society darling, powerful political activist, well-known professor, and Dominant. Erik Lehnsherr: anti-social, international motorcycle racer, and defiant submissive.

Erik is at Sepang in Malaysia for the fourteenth leg of the International World Championship. After doing poorly in qualifying, he's furious to find he has to take another VIP around the track instead of meeting Charles at the KL airport.

By Your Side by motleystitches (furius)

Charles plays chess with Erik as often as possible in the evenings, but Erik is Cain's sub and Charles is planning to leave Westchester for Oxford at the end of summer.

[joyouzz]

LU/ATLA: Hyrule

Nation: Earth Kingdom

Bender: Water Bender

Sub-Bending Skills:

• Healing

• Plant Bending

• Blood Bending(???)

Hyrule grew up in the swamps of the Earth Kingdom. Growing up, Hyrule began to travel outside of his swamp home.

When traveling, he adapted to the dangers of the world, a feature that can be seen through his clothing. Keeping details of his swamp cultures yet also gathering more Earth Kingdom clothing.

I refused to draw a shirtless Hyrule and threw his pants and a proper shirt. Hyrule keeps some elements of his culture’s clothing, like the arm bands, wood board, and leaf hat, but adds more to it to blend in.

Wild absolutely has a traditional swamp clothing set.

Here are some other details about LU/ATLA Hyrule:

• Hyrule grew up in the humid swamps, therefore never encountering ice

• No ice = No ice bending

• Instead, swamp benders bend plants such as the vines around them

• Debating if Hyrule should learn blood bending, on one hand it be flipping cool for him to learn a powerful ability to use only in the most desperate situations

• But on the other hand, would it fit Hyrule?

• When Hyrule was six, he discovered he had healing after he fell from the trees and scrapped his knees pretty badly

• Ever since then, Hyrule offered to heal the people of tribe whenever someone gets hurt

• No matter how big or little the wound is, he would heal it

• This led him to passing out when he was ten after a group of tribal warriors came back injured, exhausting himself too much

• When Hyrule was thirteen, he joined his tribe in warding off spirits and unwelcome visitors

• To keep the swamp and their people safe, the tribe creates a swamp creature using plant bending

• Much like what happens in Avatar: The Last Airbender

• This keeps the tribe safe however it also spreads a rumors that creatures that live in the swamps are cruel spirits wearing Hylian skins to blend in

• At the age of fifteen, Hyrule left the swamp for the first time when he was wandering the swamp

• This creates a desire to explore the world and see what wonders are outside of the swamp

• Try has they might, his tribe tries to discourage Hyrule by saying it’s too dangerous

• When the tribe realizes their words will not stop Hyrule, at age sixteen, Hyrule leaves the swamps and sets off

• Least to say the first weeks were terrifying

• Between being mistaken for an ‘forsaken swamp spirit’ and running into hostile earth benders, Hyrule was thrown into prison for ‘stealing’

�� In his cell, Hyrule met an old kind man who too was wrongly accused

• There, Hyrule learned of war torn countries and how many people nowadays were too wary of any strangers in fear of bandits, Yiga in disguise, or angry spirits

• It is also there, where he learned the dangers of being an water bender outside of the tribes after he bender in front of his elderly friend

• Learning of how water benders were kidnapped from their homes, sold off to the Yiga Clan, other cruel governments, wealthy men for protection, and as war prisoners was horrifying

• Hearing the ruins and dangers of this world, Hyrule saw no choice but to break both him and his new friend out of prison

• If someone told Hyrule he would be leading a prison break years before, he would just throw a wave of water in their face

• Yet there he was, following his friend to his home in a cave after successfully leading a prison break

• In his way of showing how gratitude he was for being rescued, the old man gifted Hyrule a sword

• At first, Hyrule declined the gift, only accepting it after the old man explained how not only could it help defend Hyrule but also to help disguise his water bending abilities

• Continuing his journey once more, Hyrule had a new mission

• While yes, his prison time showed him the horrors and cruelty of the world, it also showed him that good people like his friend are in the world, suffering due to cruel greedy people

• It only fueled Hyrule into exploring more of the world, meet the good people who are out there

• It fueled him to help those who are suffering, no one deserves to be falsely accused or be captured from their homes and forced into a fight against their Will

• Even at the mere thought of anyone from his tribe being captured and traded around simply because they are a water bender makes Hyrule shiver

• His entire life, Hyrule grew up hearing about how the Avatar was suppose to bring peace and balance to the world

• He is no Avatar, but that does not mean he is just going to sit aside and watch as people suffer knowing he could do something

• Taking his new sword and waving his friend goodbye, Hyrule took off

• But first, he must commit a crime

• One pair of pants, shirt, and a good pair of shoes later and Hyrule is off

[deadpresidents]

How might the U.S. invasion of Iraq have been avoided? Much of our post hoc investigation has focused on the false and manipulated intelligence about Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction, President George W. Bush’s choices, the selling of the war and the media’s complicity. Another central question has rarely been examined: Why did Mr. Hussein sacrifice his long reign in power — and ultimately his life — by creating an impression that he held dangerous weapons when he did not? The question is answerable. Mr. Hussein recorded his private leadership conversations as assiduously as Richard Nixon. He left behind about 2,000 hours of tape recordings as well as a vast archive of meeting minutes and presidential records. The materials document the Iraqi leader’s thinking at critical junctures of his long conflict with Washington, including his private reactions to Sept. 11 and to the Bush administration’s plans to oust him. And they clarify the complicated matter of why he could not persuade U.N. inspectors, multiple spy agencies and many world leaders that he did not possess weapons of mass destruction.

Wow.

[cattyanon]

Sonic but Undertale Souls: Forces Version 3 Sonic

If you aren't aware, this is one of many Sonic AUs about if the Sonic world has Undertale Souls in it. I explained how all that worked in a separate post and it's recommended you read that to understand some of what I say- and don't worry! It's not a long read!

Anyways this is specifically about Sonic Forces and version 3 of of the other two possible outcomes, all having something to do with Sonic's soul getting fucked up. Anyways, there's more about him and how I came up with the idea below the drawing!

He's finally here, and now I get to rant about what I came up with for him! >:)

You can probably skip this part but if you're curious how I managed to come up with this here's the story behind that: It came from me rewatching Jacksepticeye playing Undertale- specifically from the True Lab section and onwards. During his fight with Asriel I was thinking about how I wanted to do some cool design stuff like Asriel's God of Hyperdeath, but how? If the death rate for absorbing a soul is super high then how on earth could literally any of the characters absorb enough souls (not to mention why and how they'd absorb that many) to gain a form at least somewhat as cool looking as Asriel's? Then version 3 of my Sonic Forces AU came to mind and... well... I'll explain the rest below.

So idk the specifics but during Sonics imprisonment on the Death Egg not only was he tortured but Eggman did all kinds of unethical experiments on Sonic's soul, eventually causing it to turn a color nobody has ever seen before: Black.

With such a corrupted soul and many months of torture he eventually breaks and instinctively kills Infinite (the reason he's got that tail) and eats his soul. Not absorb. Eat. And in this way he gains soul power without absorbing another soul. (Note: He only has this ability due to the corrupted nature of his soul. If a regular person were to try and eat a soul one of two things would happen depending on how fast it breaks: 1 is that nothing would happen, 2 is that the souls attempt to combine and inevitably kill that person's own soul) He ends up repeating this process with Eggman and, deciding he's a monster, stays up on the Death Egg. But eventually he gets hungry. He tries eating the food on the Death Egg but it just doesn't fill him. There's still this cold, empty, and hungry feeling inside of him. And he has a bad feeling the only thing that'd satisfy him is a soul.

So he goes awhile without food, probably about a week, and eventually he's so damn hungry that ends up going down to earth to look for some animal souls to sustain him. He sucks the soul out of the animal's body and basically just secludes himself in the forest. He feeds on the souls of animals, getting ever so slightly stronger with each one, even if he has a feeling that human and mobian souls would be much more fulfilling.

But eventually a nearby village starts finding these untouched corpses left behind when scavenging for food in the forest since the war only very recently ended and get concerned that there's a monster in the forest. So they send a few hunters out and... well... they found what they were looking for, but died in the process.

As for Sonic he's having major issues after consuming a bunch of souls (also causing him to look like the drawing) that had murder on their minds. He tries his best to resist but he ends up wandering close to the edge of the forest near the village, just barely keeping himself from going on a murderous rampage. But then the village sends out a rescue party and he snaps. He ends up consuming every person he finds which is like almost the entire village cause he can see souls that are close by to him.

Although thankfully for literally everyone he ends up staying in that area and basically claims it as his own. The few survivors tell their horror stories and very few people (basically idiots thinking they can kill him with simple weapons) ever go there. But once the world kinda gets back together enough to establish communication again the Resistance Restoration hears about this monster and, of course, want to help. They've got super powers and Sonic has taken on plenty of monsters. All they gotta do is find the Chaos Emeralds and kick this thing's ass!

Thankfully the monster can't absorb their souls in their super forms, but it doesn't take them long to realize who said monster is. And given time the 'monster' might just find these people to be strangely familiar...

Anyways that's it for now! Feel free to ask questions while y'all wait on me to design the form they find him in. Might be hard since I don't wanna make it look like Asriel as much as possible but hey, we'll see.

[aomori-division]

-Aomori's division Howling Moon is the rap group consisting the amnesic toymaker Aoi Yamamura,the toystore clerk and part time violinst Hisui Meguno, and the young radio personality Ruka Shiina, and the secret member, fight pit boss Akai Bara

-the group colour is the lilac blue to reprsent the nature more reserved and at the same time supernatural of the group

-the group symbol is a wolf howling to the moon

-the four have a moon or a wolf on their person, Aoi has a wolf tattoo on the arm, Hisui has a moon chocker,Ruka has a wolf as a bracelet and Akai has a moon chocker matching Hisui

-they hand sign from rhyme anima is make a claw with the hands

-when the leader Aoi received a hypnosis microphone for any reason, whatever for the rumors about a supposed "werewolf" or his past as war arsonist/bomber his adoptive children Hisui and Ruka and his good friend Akai decided to join him. but the four has their own goal related to DRB...and the supernatural worl

[elliepassmore]

The Sins on Their Bones review

4/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy, historical fantasy, LGBTQ+ characters, political intrigue, Russian Revolution

Big thanks to Netgalley, Random House, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

TW rape/SA, spousal abuse

This definitely seems to be a book that you absolutely love or that you struggle with. I obviously thought this book deserved 4 stars, but I did struggle immensely with getting through the book. The pacing is very slow and it takes a while for the plot and the characters to really warm up. I do feel like a good portion of the first 50% could be cut without damaging the story.

Without a doubt this is a story about suffering and about healing. Dimitri, one of the MCs and narrators, is in terrible amounts of pain after what occurred with his husband and the revolution. He's the one we see suffering the most, but the book does follow his journey as he begins to heal and discover who he is on the other side of those things. Vasily, another one of the narrators, has pain in his past that is alluded to over the course of the novel. He's at a different stage of the healing process than Dimitri, but that pain and healing is still there.

I think part of the problem with the book's pacing is that Samotin strives to show a realistic journey of pain, depression, and healing, and that path is not a quick one. Dimitri does not recover over night or in the span of a chapter. He first needs to recognize that he can heal and then he continually needs to make that choice. I do think it's a realistic depiction, and I applaud Samotin for showing that. However, I think time jumps could have, and probably should have, been used.

Setting aside the pacing, I was fascinated by the setting of this book. It takes place in a fantasy, Jewish-majority version of Russia circa the Russian Revolution. The setting is rich with architecture and clothing and traditions. I liked the interplay of the different sects of religion in the novel and how that was used to create tension between characters who followed Ludyazist mysticism vs. those who followed the (not-so) Holy Science. I also thought it was interesting to read a book where a fantasy version of Judaism is the predominant religion instead of having it be a fantasy version of Christianity.

Dimitri is the main character, imo, even though there are three narrators. As mentioned above, this is very much a healing story, and Dimitri has a lot to heal from. He was the Tzar of Novo-Svitsevo prior to the revolution and he desperately loves his country. He also desperately loves his husband, who overthrew him and is just generally a not great (read: abusive) dude. Dimitri is grappling with the consequences of war and the feeling he let his country down, as well as the guilt associated with helping place his husband, Alexey, in a place to do that in the first place. But he's also recovering from the abuse Alexey put him through and coming to terms with the fact that it wasn't his fault. Beyond all of these things, Dimitri is extremely loyal and it's clear he loves his friends dearly.

Vasily might be my favorite narrating character. He's Dimitri's spymaster and fled with him into hiding after the end of the war. He blends humor and seriousness well and is able to stabilize situations fairly well. I liked seeing him work, I always think it's fascinating to see a character become someone else as a spying/manipulation tactic. He has his own past trauma that gets revealed a bit throughout the book, though he's further along on his healing journey than Dimitri is.

Alexey is the last narrating character and he was Dimitri's husband. Through experimentation with the Holy Science, Alexey has become immortal and is impossible to kill. He was already tempestuous and abusive, but post-immortality and post-war, he's only become more volatile. He strives to create and control an army of demons in order to make Novo-Svitsevo the strongest country in the world. But despite his delusions of grandeur, most of his court is terrified of him and he has little patience for what it means to run a country. Alexey is not portrayed as the good guy in any way, but his POV is one of an abuser, so keep that in mind.

I enjoyed the side characters on Dimitri's side of things. Other than Vasily, there are three other members of his court who fled with him and they are Annika, his general; Ladushka, his strategist; and Mischa, his physician. They each felt like well-rounded characters with their own pasts and idiosyncrasies. I would've liked to know a bit more about them but the pacing of the book makes that difficult.

Overall I think this book had a lot of potential. The pacing definitely got in the way of the plot and I think a good portion of the beginning of the book probably could've been cut. I liked the side characters more than the main characters as well, so that could've contributed as well. That being said, the characters have a lot of depth to them and the setting + magic system were interesting.

[mealvaan]

Lend an Ear

Under the banner of Garlemald, the Decurion would commit all manner of atrocities. It was here in the privacy of his bedroom that he indulged in his most shameful act, one that he could no longer justify as a sacrifice for the greater good.

There were curtains, he made sure of it; he penned with an inconsistent hand and still hid behind his mother's name. He found it made his heart all the easier to bear.

As a final precaution, he made sure to always start his letters with a lie.

Dear Gale,

Thank you for the garments. My little sister greatly appreciates them. We've not much to our name, and it's nice for her to have something for special occasions.

He indulged his quill in another dip. He couldn't even imagine what a sister of his would look like, or if he even had one. It was difficult to conjure the image of himself fresh-faced, inkblots in place of features. The lies died short and he moved onto the next paragraph.

Advice from Garlean political philosophy: If your negotiators show you what they want, you'll find out what they need. Not many people understand what they need, truly. You could apply this to your suitors. If you're able to glean why they want you in their words, you can glean what there is to offer in lieu of your hand. This way, it's also not as if you're giving something back. They remain ingratiated to you because unlike marriage, a favor is not a two-way street.

Alternatively, there is always the option of your more embarrassing suitors suffering an unfortunate 'accident'. In a hypothetical, of course.

He wondered what Gale Amante looked like to earn the admiration that they did. It was difficult to glean an attractive Ishgardian in his mind; those he'd met struck an unflattering silhouette in bulky chainmail uniform and square helms, making it all the easier to knock their heads around. Perhaps under the helms there were pretty faces. Unfortunately, no face was pretty in the throes of war, nor with glassy, dead eyes. The real star they lived in was not a romantic frame of reference.

He imagined Gale penning this letter. Perhaps girlishly, kicking their feet towards the ceiling and smiling puckered. Hiding his letters in their bedside drawer or under their pillow, then retrieving them moments later just to read them again. It was an indulgent, fluttering thought, one that he knew to plague only the hearts of schoolgirls.

Forgive me. Killing has become such a recurring thread in our lives that it's become part of my comical lexicon. I trust you understand that I'm not truly suggesting it.

Though, sometimes the sinless acts of man become their own kind of violence. We often speak ill of the common traumas: those wrought in red, black and blue. However, I find the trauma of social expectation to be far more permeable, and profess far more damage to the soul.

What of the systematic trauma we impose on our Viera young, that they must conform to a path of solitude for characteristics only developed epochs into their lives? What of the trauma of religion, where one's life is considered only valuable when it suits the mold of a particular philosophy's law? Do these not also kill in a way more permeable than the mercy of death? Have they not killed historically?

A deep breath wracked through him to stay his shaking hand. This was hedonism, and as monastic as he acted, he knew it well. A terrible pall took hold of him as he scribbled.

In the face of this suppression, is killing truly the worst that man can commit? Amid the trauma of societal ills, the imposition of a false truth in the name of culture, violence is the most direct translation of our inner will to worldly form. Death may be our only way to overcome these impositions. Certainly, the change of the guard is inevitable, but to tie the pace of change to the slow roll of the generation is wilful ignorance.

Philosophy aside, it feels good, cathartic, an instrument of closure, does it not? To impose your will? Make a tangible mark upon the world where words fail to?

It was as if at the end of the sentence he came to. This letter could not be sent. It was more akin to a diary entry or a confessional. He couldn't burden his mark with thoughts he wouldn't even express under his own name.

Yet as his eyes met the nearby candle, he couldn't bring the letter to bear. He had to send it. He had to understand if anyone felt the way he did. If Gale understood him as they had time and time again.

He buffered the missive with what he thought was a lie.

I am still saddened to see so many fall to the Empire, though.

And he signed it.

Sincerely yours,

Nerva aan La'phir

And he sealed it.