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rocorambles · 3 years

Note

fwb with an hq boy of your choice who recently went thru break up, no strings attached but they catch feelings for their dear fwb so reader breaks up the agreement then hq boy turns yandere bc they just cant get enough of them and no one can ever make them feel sososo loved and appreciated like reader hhhhh <3

This immediately made me think of a Yandere Iwaizumi.

Warnings: Yandere, Non-Con, Delusional Mindset, Implied NSFW

Iwaizumi doesn’t date easily, so he takes his breakup badly, wallowing in self-pity, wondering where it all went wrong as he drowns himself in cheap alcohol and the grinding sweaty mass of bodies at college frat parties.

And that’s how he finds you.

You’re just another body in the crowd, another sexy thing rubbing against him, coyly looking up at him from underneath fluttering lashes, just another distraction from the pain, so he lets himself fall in bed with you, lets his body tangle with yours in the sheets.

So when he wakes up to yet another empty and cold bed, yet another girl who’s used and thrown him away, he’s not surprised.

But he is surprised by the cute little note left on his bedside table with a name and a phone number.

He’s nowhere near ready for another relationship and he politely texts you that, not wanting to lead you on, but he gapes at the forward response he gets.

I’m not trying to marry you, Iwaizumi. I just want to fuck~

It’s admittedly very appealing, the thought of having someone at his beck and call, having a more reliable source to relieve his heavy emotions on, and from what he does remember of your night together, his body definitely wouldn’t be opposed to having you underneath him again. An easy decision with one rule.

Don’t catch feelings.

It starts off simply enough, tipsy flings after parties, quick “study breaks”. Fuck and leave. Fuck and leave.

He doesn’t know when that began to change. He doesn’t know when he started waking up with your body still curled up next to him as the sunlight came trickling in. He doesn’t know when the two of you started hanging out more during the day in public, joking about something at the campus coffee shop, spending hours just being together, not touching each other even once. And slowly but surely, he can feel his hurt and closed off heart unfurling tentatively once more, hopeful of a new chance at love.

Unfortunately you’re not on the same page and he grits his teeth as he remembers the tense conversation the two of you had, the way barely polite sentences became the two of you baring your fangs at each other as neither of you backed down from your stance.

You weren’t ready for a relationship, didn’t want a relationship, just wanted to have fun. You’re sorry he felt like you had led him on, but you had been clear from the beginning. No feelings involved.

He thinks you’re too stubborn, too scared to accept that this is more, that you’re in denial of what’s clearly something more than just a casual relationship. Why won’t you just give him a chance?

But it ends with both of you storming away in opposite directions.

You just need to clear your head. You’ll come around. You’ll come back to him. When he’s gone from your life, you’ll realize he was right, that the two of you were meant to be together.

That’s the mantra that repeats itself in Iwaizumi’s head everyday after that night and he patiently waits by his phone, positive your name will pop up on the screen.

But days pass, weeks pass and he never hears from you.

Fine, he’ll be the bigger person and take the first step in repairing your relationship.

It’s easy to find out where you’ll be this weekend. You’ve always had the habit of looking for the biggest party on campus and Iwaizumi shoves through the raucous crowd in search of you, looking for the group of girls he knows you’re always joined to the hips with.

So imagine his surprise when he finds you pressed against a very masculine body with a tongue shoved down your throat, a large hand squeezing and kneading your ass in the middle of the dance floor?

He can feel his heart shatter as he rushes out the door and back to his dorm, betrayal, anger, jealousy twisting nauseatingly inside of him as he collapses on his carpeted floor.

How could you? Had he imagined the connection between the two of you after all?

But as the turmoil inside of him begins to lose its intensity, to lose its razor sharp edge while he lays awake in bed, he remembers. He remembers the way you looked at him, the way you smiled at him. No. He hadn’t imagined it. You did love. You DO love him. He just needs to show you.

He’s thankful for the timing as finals wrap up, as students begin to escape campus, excitedly making their way back home to reunite with old friends and family. He’s thankful that your specific major’s exams always tend to be on the tail end of final weeks. He’s thankful that you’ve always liked to linger around on campus when it’s emptier, never immediately going home after your last final.

He sends a long overdue text your way, asking if you could meet him at his dorm to talk privately, to end things on a better note than the garbage fire your last conversation had been.

He just wants to make things right.

And he smiles when you agree, something warm fluttering in his chest when you hesitantly sit beside him on his bed, telling him you also regret how things ended between the two of you. But he scowls when you stare at him with hopeful eyes.

“We can still be friends!”

The sentence is barely out of your mouth before lips are crashing against yours and the two of you are a flailing vicious knot of limbs. He doesn’t want to hurt you and he won’t seriously hurt you. But God are you infuriating sometimes and his hands tightly grip you, fingers digging into your arms to keep you still, teeth harshly biting your lip in a demand for you to stop squirming and twisting, and you obey, little whimpers of pain escaping you and the beginning of tears glistening in the corner of your eyes.

He hates it. He hates knowing that you’re hurting, that he’s the one inflicting it on you. But he knows better than anyone after years of dealing with Oikawa that sometimes stubborn people like you need tough love, need someone to knock some sense into them. And who better or more qualified than him? The man who loves you, the man who you love?

#yandere haikyuu #yandere iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #tw: noncon #tw: yandere

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brinnygetsstabbed · 3 years

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[ NO LIES.]

This Trial isn’t what she wanted it to be. Countless times, Brin had literally just thrown herself at him. He only downed her once, and even then, his reluctance to do so was infuriating. He had no right to seem so put-off with hurting her. He’d spent months doing that. Again and again, the slowest mori ever, Trial after Trial. She’s standing now, but barely.

Everyone else is gone, the last teammate- Tapp- dead on hook.

Well now at least she’s got some privacy to give the prick a piece of her mind.

Her whole body aches, her side is still bleeding, crimson stains the sleeve of her shirt. One arm simply dangles at her side, her shoulder marked with a deep cut. No one had bothered healing her completely, but that’s probably because she wouldn’t let them.

Brin has to take a second to lean against a stray wall, her breath hisses when more pain jabs into her side. Moving her hand off the wound, it’s still bleeding. That’s expected, really. Things just kinda keep bleeding until someone patches it up. The only time you can bleed out is when you’re down.

She’s so tired. She’s exhausted, running off of fumes, burning the smoke of the fire that is what feels like years of rage just to keep going. There’s something in her pocket, and it’s not the note she took with her here. Tensely, her hand fishes it out, not expecting to see a straight up envelope in her hand. Blood stains it, possibly seeping into whatever is inside. She’s propped up enough on the wall to open it, pulling a… Polaroid picture from within.

From through a window. It’s Jed. He’s… Cooking something.

Brin’s heart nearly drops through the very fabric of the Fog itself. Red hair. That face. She knows it, but her mind refuses to give it a name until tears cloud the image she sees.

Sam.

Like a knife to the back, the lifeline that the older survivor had attached to her was cut. The dying flame in the kid’s chest reignited with toxic gasoline. It burns so hot, so unbearably red that it invades her vision worse than her tears do. A bloodied hand wipes them away, her face contorts into the most determined, loathing snarl she can manage.

It takes just maybe ten seconds to find the source of all her pain.

Jed.

He spots her, and for a moment he looks relieved, until he doesn’t. He probably feels the air of wrath around her before he sees it on her face. Brin’s approach doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of him, shoving the photo into his chest, “What the fuck?” Is all she spits at him, voice hoarse from emotions she can’t control.

He doesn’t say anything, taking the picture and looking at it. The blood drains from his face, shock flickers to anger, then shock again. Silver eyes glance to the young survivor, no words leave his lungs.

“What the fuck!?” Brin shouts at him through a muted sob, her hand going back to hold the wound in her side.

“I-” He stutters, giving the photo another thorough scan as if it were faked, “Listen… Brin, I can explain, ok?”

She doesn’t want excuses, she doesn’t want an explanation, “Bullshit.” Her voice is so acidic, it even burns herself, “So what is it? Are you still playing with me or are you fucking with Sam instead? Oh- no, y’know what? I bet it’s both of us, you asshole.” Sam is the only person she really went to, these days. But now, even that doesn’t happen as much anymore, “What are you telling her?”

Jed takes a step back, as if to escape Brin’s anger. So she takes a step forward. There's no escaping what he started, “I’m not- Look, Brin, I know it looks bad, but I'm not hurting her.”

Without even thinking, she takes the letter out and gives it to him, slamming her fist into his chest just like she did with the photo, “I know you’re not fucking hurting her. That’s the problem.” Brin is angry. She’s jealous of the fact Sam gets a free pass. At least, that’s what she’s assuming, because that’s what it looks like, “You don’t just get to up and act better, Jed. She fucking- she knows you’re my goddamn killer and yet she still-” Her words are cut short with a sharp inhale, combating more tears. So maybe some of her rage is directed at the redhead, she just doesn’t want it to be, “Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid mental bullshit. Fuck you for making me think you were ever getting nicer.”

He has no right to look at hurt as he does, “Brin, c’mon I can explain, just… I know where hatch is, I can-”

“No.”

She doesn’t want his mercy. She wants the clarity that his brutality brings. To know she’s right, and to have all this confusion erased. Indigo eyes stare right into silver, hateful and pained, “Do your fucking job and kill me.” She demands it.

His expression drops to mortified, “Wait, Brinny, please believe me, I’ve… Things are different, we just need to talk.”

Different? Is he really going to stand here and tell her things are different? She’s barely standing, her face is slick with blood and tears and now he has the audacity to say things are different. She’s almost speechless for a moment, before the floodgates of raw hate open.

“Don’t you Dare lie to me!” She screams at him, throwing her hands at his chest. She wants to hurt him, to piss him off enough so that he hurts her. So that he kills her. Fucking end it, “Fucking kill me! Do the one thing you do best.” She’s not thinking clearly anymore. She’s not thinking at all, just feeling. Feeling everything, reliving feelings she buried. All of it hurts so bad.

He stands there, just taking the hits, avoiding her gaze like the plague. It’s so infuriating she’s seconds away from collapsing in on herself. She wants to implode, but she can’t. Her mind is done with imploding, it’s done with laying in a pool of its own blood. Death isn’t a release, death is the answer.

Trying to talk is impossible, all that comes out is just yelling and crying, incoherent demands of a mori or even a goddamn hook. She doesn’t care, she just wants to die.

But he won’t do it. Even with her hitting him and screaming at him, he refuses to act.

She doesn’t understand. And it hurts even more.

Her body is slowly giving up, and he knows it. Without a word, he slings an arm over her, turning and walking with Brin in tow. She tries so hard to wriggle away, she’s trying to do something she isn’t sure of.

The odd howl of the hatch comes closer, Jed is still silent. Weak protests are all the survivor can manage. Why is he letting her go? She doesn’t understand. She just wants to die.

He just kinda… Nudges her down, both kneeling beside the hole in the ground. Jed stays for a moment, then he gives a quick, maybe reassuring touch to her shoulder before leaving her. She watches him walk away, disappearing into the Fog in the distance.

She feels so alone.

Brinley crumbles forward, falling into the hole, escaping the Trial. The Trial she was desperate to die in. The Trial she started.

She’ll stay in this darkness for a moment, to let herself break. She’ll be back, she always comes back.

#Moments from the Fog;; oneshots/shorts #;;shrouded-jed #Young and scorned;; triggering content #;;tw suicidal thoughts

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thran-duils · 7 years

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You’re Now Mine (Part 5)

Title: You’re Now Mine (Part 5) Summary: I’ve decided to continue the drabble request into a three part series considering the requests to write more of it!

“Fulfilling a request for @lets-personofinterestontumbir! – “Could you do a drabble for the Persephone AU I don’t know If you’ve seen once upon a time but the episode 1x07 reminded me a lot of this story when the evil queen ripped out the huntsmen’s heart if you could do something like that it would be awesome. Thank you.” “ Words: 1,714 Warnings: DARK AF, Emotional/Mental abuse

Masterpost || Persephone || Part 4 || Part 6 || Fanfic masterpost

Lucifer had gotten a hint about a Hand of God from one of his demons and went directly to the source. He had been filled with elation at the possibility of getting his hands on another one until he had appeared in a circle of holy fire.

His demon had betrayed him. For some unfathomable reason, the demon had thought that being killed by the Winchesters was worse than the possibility of Lucifer escaping this holy fire and ringing them across the racks for the rest of eternity. What a useless sod.

It was almost satisfying seeing Sam kill the demon regardless of the fact they had brought Lucifer.

Lucifer decided to play it cool, smirking at the pair of them. “Well, you two seem to have a worse reputation than I do. I’m kind of insulted.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Dean demanded, ignoring Lucifer’s snide comment.

The grin on Lucifer’s face grew. “That’s why you set up this little trap?” He let out a chuckle. “You don’t have to worry about my delicate little flower. She’s perfectly alright. Gorgeous and lively as ever. In fact, we are going out when I get back.” He emphasized the last part, his eyes piercing the two of them. It was a threat to let him go.

“The hell are you playing at Lucifer?” Dean spat at him.

Lucifer noted Sam was holding back, looking pissed but not riled up and frothing like Dean.

“Not catching your meaning.”

“Cut the bullshit and let her go!”

Mockingly, Lucifer acted as if he was considering it before he gave a curt, “No.” Dean made to move forward, a murderous look in his eyes. But Sam reached out, stopping him. The expression on Lucifer’s face changed to something menacing as he snapped, “I think you know this fire isn’t going to last forever. I’m going to get out of here. And you aren’t going to kill me because you need me – for more than one reason. And also, the issue of poor, baby brother Castiel being in the same vessel.” He raised his head, staring directly at Dean, who was returning a similar burning stare. “You won’t find Y/N without me. And to be honest… I don’t think she’ll be too keen on going with you even by some miracle you found her.”

Dean sneered, “And why’s that?”

Lucifer looked bashful, “I think she likes me.”

This riled Dean up again and Lucifer smirked as Sam stopped him charging forward again. Dean’s upper lip curled as he spat, “When we find her, you son of a bitch, I swear to God I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

“That’s cute, Dean. But I think we all know the more likely scenario of me gutting you from head to toe.”

“You won’t kill Y/N though, will you?” Sam tested, finally speaking. Lucifer’s eyes flashed and Dean sent Sam a worried look, not knowing what he was playing at. “I know you won’t.”

Lucifer cocked his head to the side and studied Sam for a few moments. His eyes narrowed and he drawled, “I would leave. You’re gonna have a big problem in a few minutes.” Dean scowled as Sam looked around quickly before his eyes landed on Lucifer again who was smirking, “Can’t stifle all my powers in here, Sammy. Still got my radio to my little minions.”

Dean’s jaw set and Sam’s hand clasped him again. “Dean, it’s time to go.”

Staring Lucifer down, Dean vowed, his voice low, “You can’t keep her prisoner forever.”

With a condescending smile, Lucifer responded, “I wouldn’t bet on that, Dean-o.”

“Dean!” Sam demanded, giving his arm a yank. “Let’s go!”

Unable to tear his eyes from Lucifer, Dean finally let Sam drag him away and they both left through the side door of the building, leaving Lucifer in the holy fire.

Lucifer cursed to himself, finally letting his fury out at being trapped. And even more so that it was by Sam and Dean.

<> <> <>

Lucifer was in a fury when he returned to you. You were sitting on the couch, your feet tucked underneath you, your dress pooling despite the fact it was knee length. The full tulle skirt was to blame.

You placed your book in your lap, watching him advance on you.

The fire was still in his eyes as he leaned down, his lips crashing into yours. His hand moved behind your head, fingers wrapping up in your hair, holding you in place. You were caught off guard by the rough, dominating feeling of his mouth on yours.

He pulled away from you enough to stare you in the eyes. He moved his hand down to cup the side of your face, his thumb caressing. His eyes weren’t leaving you.

“What?” you asked finally, your voice quiet. There was something off.

Lucifer’s eyes ran over you again and he finally said, “Nothing.” You didn’t believe him in the slightest. He straightened up and told you, “We’re going topside.”

The way he said that put you on edge. “For?”

Eyeing you, Lucifer stated sounding slightly annoyed, “You beg me for a week to take you topside and when I finally agree to do it on a semi-regular basis, you’re now hesitant?”

Stammering, you responded, “No, I-I-I… you just seem weird today.”

“I’m feeling off,” Lucifer said curtly. He held out his hand for you, impatiently waiting for you to take it. You placed your book aside and took it. You saw him visibly relax slightly, and you let him help you off the couch, your eyes not leaving his.

<> <> <>

Lucifer wasn’t lying when he said he was feeling off. It wasn’t just the infuriating as fuck incident with the Winchesters. There was something stirring in him and it was annoying him that he couldn’t figure it out. And it only amplified when he had come back to Y/N.

He had taken Y/N out to a park, like she had originally asked for the first time she had confronted him about going top side. She was meandering along in front of him, throwing bread crumbs to the birds on the pond.

This was the same pond he had killed one of his brothers at. Same pond he had thrown bread crumbs into, trying to relax himself into the vessel with Castiel. He didn’t know what had compelled him to bring Y/N to this particular pond but he had.

Lucifer ran his eyes over the white crystal decorations weaved through Y/N’s carefully curled hair. His eyes trailed down. The white, sheer, lace top complimented the blue skirt well. He loved seeing her in blue, especially light blue. His anger flared again at the thought of Dean threatening him earlier. And Sam questioning whether or not he would killed Y/N. He still hated this feeling of attachment to her but the risk of someone taking her away was even more maddening than his feeling of powerlessness to his feelings towards her.

Zoning in on the feeling, Lucifer tried to pinpoint where exactly inside him it was originating. It was fuzzy. It came in and out. Like a heartbeat. He stilled his walking, Y/N moving lazily in front of him, her eyes trained on the pond. This pulsating feeling stopped him in his tracks and his eyes pierced the back of Y/N’s head before his eyes snapped downward to her middle.

(gif)

<> <> <>

You reached out, trying to grasp a frog but it jumped into the pond. You cursed under your breath. You had just wanted to hold it.

Straightening up again, you turned suddenly feeling someone right next to you. Lucifer was there, looking on the burst of emotion. You stepped away from him, caught off guard. “What are you doing?” you blurted without thinking.

The grin on Lucifer’s face was somewhat unsettling as he advanced on you. His eyes were zeroed in on your abdomen.

(gif)

“Admiring,” Lucifer breathed out. He seemed entranced, his hand finding your stomach, touching it gently. You narrowed your eyes, watching him with apprehension. “What a wonderful thing…” He trailed off again. His eyes met yours again and he seemed to be looking past you. Cupping your face, he smiled manically happy again. He leaned in suddenly, giving you a deep kiss. As his lips left yours, it left you breathless. When you zoned back in on him, your vision clearing, he was fixated on your stomach again.

“A wonderful thing. But not now…” he murmured. “Not with you.” He pressed his hand a little more against your stomach and you felt a slight twinge. You let out a startled gasp and he met your eyes. He gave you a reassuring smile. “It’s fine, princess. Just dealing with something.”

“What?”

“Nothing you’ll have to worry about again. I’ll be more careful from now on,” he informed you.

You had a sinking feeling you knew what he was talking about and the thought crossed your mind. Lucifer’s eyes were piercing and you knew he had heard it loud and clear.

“I’m glad it happened,” Lucifer mentioned, seeming unbothered that you knew what had happened despite him trying to brush it off. “It gives me a good idea…” He patted your face. “But, don’t want to put you through that. You know… death and all.” He kissed you again. “No, that’s not for you. I plan to keep you.” He pulled away, leaving you still in a daze.

You had been pregnant. You hadn’t felt it. It hadn’t even been 48 hours since the last time you and Lucifer had had sex. But he had known. It must have been a powerful Nephilim to bring about its awareness to Lucifer so soon. And that didn’t surprise you considering the father. But, what he said to you regarding it is what was really knocking you off your feet.

Lucifer inhaled deeply before ordering you, “Go on, princess. I was enjoying watching you enjoy yourself.”

Swallowing sharply, you gave him a little nod before pulling away from his grasp. You grasped your basket of bread crumbs and turned away from him, hiding the tears pricking your eyes.

No wonder Castiel had never wanted to have a child with you. He didn’t want you to die.

~~~

Castiel Tags: @prince-halfblood, @splendidcas, @klaineaholic, @letsthedogpackandthecats, @alexastacio, @winchesterforever12 @seirensou @tacos-and-trenchcoats @the-amaranthine @intheir-dreams @study-me-misha @marisayouass @demonicguardianangel @lizziebearrawrrawr2728 @kcam1621

#lucifer!cas x reader #casifer x reader #casifer #spn fanfic #lucifer!cas #my shit

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kiryuva · 7 years

Text

Wires

[Author’s Note: I wanted to post trigger warnings just in case this would be a bit too much for others! Slight torture and blood is described in this drabble. It is a light amount, but proceed with caution!]

Trigger warnings: Slight torture, blood

A deliciously wicked smile appeared on the hacker’s face as she stood before your person. Her hands glowed a vibrant hue of purple as she watched you through the holograms and detailed screens she created in the air, the neon lights the only source of light you’d seen in awhile. The room you were held in was dark, dry, and cold — all the more unfortunate as it seemed to sap the energy from your body with every aching moment.

You were held in an advanced type of captive area — that much you knew — with an abundance of technological parts and networks. At the same time, it was unforgiving and mostly barren. You don’t remember when you first arrived here, or even how long you’d resided; everything was one big blur. Dried blood caked around your left temple, and you tasted blood in your mouth. It hurt too much to swallow at this point, and your breathing became harsh.

Through the transparent purple codes, you watched with strained vision as she connected the images together. “I must say, you do have quite the fight in you,” she swiped the screen away, causing it to form into a cube of assorted colours, “too bad you just don’t work with us. You know why you’re here, right, amiga?”

A playful, mocking giggle came from her as she watched you struggle in your restraints once she said ‘amiga’. You coughed, spitting blood onto the floor and immediately shot a deathly glare at her. She was unmoved, and looked to the device that was keeping you in place. Your arms were spread apart, legs dangling to the floor below. The machine that held your wrists in place dug into your skin harshly, and seemed to become tighter the more you flailed.

Her expression was unchanging, and she found entertainment in watching you use what little energy you had left to undo your restraints. The more you tried, the more amusement she found. Her violet orbs focused on your feeble attempts at prying your hands free from the device, and she walked closer to you. The way you were positioned, you were slightly taller than her, but she could still easily ascend to meet your gaze.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Don’t be so upset, cariño. I promise, we’re not doing this because we want to.” Tilting her head, she examined your bruised face and damaged attire, her eyes seeming to caress your features in your unhealthy state. “Well.” She couldn’t help but snicker at her own comment.

“Shut up, you b-“ You began to speak, but right as the words left your mouth, you felt a harsh shock travel through your body, causing you to cry in pain. You bit your lip, whining, your body trembling as the shocking ended. Light, electric disturbances would occasionally tug at our body, resulting in more twitching. Panting, you lowered your head and did your best to stay conscious in addition to keeping your vision straight. Your body writhed in pain, and you could do nothing but weakly glare at the ground.

She crossed her arms, watching your limited movement while captive. “Remember, I do the talking here.” She lightly pressed her hand on your face, feigning a nurturing caress. She lifted your chin to meet her gaze directly, peering into your conflicted eyes. Her voice became soft, and she cooed, “All of this will stop if you just tell us where he is.”

You jerked your head as best you could from her grasp, coughing as she stepped backwards. She groaned, as if she were annoyed, and your [colour] eyes did their best to focus on the little light the room did have. You were loyal, and refused to give up your team — more specifically him — because of your predicament. Perhaps your pride amplified the occasional adrenaline burst you would receive while confined.

“Look, trying to play ‘hero’-“ she rolled her eyes and used air quotes, “-isn’t going to end well for you. Keep being defiant and you won’t be able to return to your friends and family.” The end of her sentence seemed to hold a caring tone, but you knew better than to trust this woman. She murmured something in Spanish, something you couldn’t readily translate, and you grunted.

“Kill me, then,” you narrowed your eyes, trying to get a good visual of her. Her figure was blurred, as were many things, and you felt you had to squint just to get a clear image in your mind. But from the highlighted purple accents and faded traces of blue, you could somewhat piece together what she looked like.

Black hair? No, it had to be lighter. Purple eyes, yes. Brown skin? You think? Everything was melding together. Due to you only having the bare minimum to keep you alive, your conscious began to wear on you. Your eyesight had been drastically affected by the darkness, and this machine lowered your reaction time. Despite all this, you let your pride do the talking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, anyway.”

For once, the hacker didn’t have a grin, or even a smirk on her face. She simply observed you, looking towards your direction as if she were studying you further. Turning her back to you, she chuckled and examined the object in her hand. She tossed the cube in the air over and over, and her silence made you question if she was planning to do something further to you. Exhaling once more, she shrugged, and decided to face you. “Well, from the little information we got from your files, it won’t be a complete waste.”

“We need you to talk, and I can only be entertained for so long,” she lifted her free hand at you, coded lines of electric violet wiring reaching out and attaching themselves to you. Like a puppeteer, the strings attached to you, causing you to go even more limp, and you were completely unable to move. in that instant, you felt as though you were barred on how to do the most basic of things. You knew you couldn’t fight, but why were these attachments so damaging to you? “Heh, but don’t worry, I’m not the one you need to worry about.” She winked at you, glancing at the machine before averting her attention.

To this point, you had only encountered her, and other Talon agents that had apparently dragged you here. Or kidnapped. You had no clue at this point, and didn’t want to recollect the details if you didn’t have to. Her cheekiness only infuriated you, and you hesitated on speaking. You hated that you were here, like this. Anything you would give to get away, but you would be damned if you sold your family out to scum like her.

You blinked slowly, watching as the woman waved at you as to her departure, a rather nefarious smile drawing itself on her face as her figure faded in a burst of neon purple. You were confused; why hadn’t she killed you? Why leave? You couldn’t do anything, only remain still in your suspended state as the darkness of the room began to eat at you even more.

A coldness crept through the room, the shadows growing with every second the longer you stared ahead. Though you were underground, you didn’t understand why you felt a gust of what appeared like wind pass over your person. It didn’t make sense. You were sore, and once the ‘wind’ hit against you, it only made your person burn more. Pathetic whimpers escaped you as pain pulsated throughout your body in the cold. You became anxious, unsure of what was going on, all the while trying to regain control of your body.

Just then, you realized what she meant. You could feel your heart beat faster, your eyes widening as far as you could make them. Weak breaths left your mouth as, in the place of her, you saw a bright, blood-splattered owl mask staring directly at you.

#tw; blood #tw; torture #sombra #reader #reaper #overwatch imagines #overwatch drabble

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preserving-ferretbrain · 5 years

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Cassie Clare and the Canon-Sue Debate

by Dan H

Thursday, 19 February 2009

Dan talks around the subject of Cassandra Clare's City of Ashes.

Ferretbrain readers should remember from my last review, I hated Cassandra Cla(i)re's City of Bones so much that I could barely express myself. It went around the “Bad/Funny” wheel so many times it gave me motion sickness. It also read rather a lot like Harry Potter fanfic.

So as you can imagine, I was overjoyed when our illustrious editor presented me with a copy of the second book in the trilogy (carefully informing me that since she had bought two other books on a three-for-two offer at Waterstones she had not, in fact, paid money for it).

It's still bad. It's bad in pretty much all the ways it was bad the last time.

Thanks for reading. 'Night.

Okay, there's more. Once again, this is going into disjointed subheadings, because Cassie Cla(i)re just does that to me.

Chapter Headings

Just in case you were in any doubt what kind of book this was, I thought I'd start off by giving you a full list of the chapter headings:

Prologe: Smoke and Diamonds, Part One: A Season in Hell, Valentine's Arrow, The Hunter's Moon, The Hogwarts High Inquisitor, The Cuckoo in the Nest, Sins of the Fathers (do you see, it's a biblical reference), City of Ashes, The Mortal Sword, Part Two: The Gates of Hell, The Seelie Court, And Death Shall Have No Dominion (yes, that's right “And Death Shall Have No Dominion”), A Fine and Private Place, Smoke and Steel (supposed to echo the prologue maybe?), The Hostility of Dreams (okay, seriously Cassie, you're taking the piss), A Host of Rebel Angels (because Valentine is a bit like Lucifer), Part Three: Day of Wrath, Fearless, The Serpent's Tooth, A Stone of the Heart (no, I don't know what that means either), East of Eden, Darkness Visible, Dies Irae.

I should probably add that these self-aggrandising, portentous titles pretty much exclusively come in front of chapters in which very little actually ... y'know ... happens.

Basic synopsis of City of Ashes: Valentine is back, zomg. Referring to the Ministry of Magic Guide To Resurgent Psychopaths, the Clave (the international organization of Shadowhunters in charge of stopping the world going to shit in a shoebox) decide that the most sensible thing to do is to (a) victimize his son and (b) sit around with their collective thumbs up their collective asses.

The Pesky Kids from the first book return. Cassie Claire “Clary” is slowly discovering more about her precious Mary-Sue powers, and is now dating Everygeek Simon, Draco Jace has been locked up by “The Inquisitor” because they think he's spying for his father (spying, presumably, on the Clave's secret plans to do nothing the fuck about Valentine), Alec is still being tokenistically gay and Isabel is ... not in it much actually, having been relegated to the place where girls who are hotter than the protagonist get sent in the second book. It's the pesky kids who work out that Valentine is planning on taking the Mortal Sword and performing the Ritual of Infernal Conversion to turn it into an evil sword that will allow him to summon Demons.

The Ritual of Infernal Conversion

Okay, so here's how it goes. Valentine has stolen the Mortal Sword, one of the titular (is it titular if it's the title of the trilogy, rather than the book?) Mortal Instruments. He steals this in chapter – like – six and the Clave pays no attention whatsoever because after all, it's not like the powerful psychopathic genius would have stolen the awesomely powerful mystical artefact for a reason is it?

In order to complete the Ritual of Infernal Conversion Valentine must drain the blood of a child of each of the “Downworlder” races. “Child,” by the way is defined as “anybody under the age of eighteen”. Clary objects to this definition later on on the book, on the grounds that sixteen year olds aren't children but teenagers, and somebody corrects her by pointing out that “teenagers are a modern concept” whereas of course the RoIC is deep and ancient magic.

Now ... you probably know where I'm going with this, but yes, I know that the idea of “teenagers” is a modern concept but that isn't because in ancient times you were considered a “child” until the age of twenty, it's because you were considered an adult from pretty much the moment you hit puberty. I would have been just about okay with the fact that the “children” Valentine was targeting were actually people who were all old enough to hunt demons for a living, had Cla(i)re not pulled the infuriating “aaaah do you see ... it's a modern concept” thing. If you're going to play the sub-Gaiman “ah, but in the old tales” card, at least get your old tales right. Idiot.

Anyway, Valentine attacks a couple of Downworlder kids and drains their blood (right there and then in the street, this will become important-slash-infuriating later), it comes right down to the wire and he needs only Vampire and a Werewolf.

Shockingly,

Cassie

Classie

Clary's best-friend-slash-pity-fuck Simon gets turned into a Vampire just as Valentine is looking for a Vampire Child to kill for his ritual. Not only that, but he winds up being sorta-romantically-involved with a werewolf who is also conveniently old-enough-to-be-sexy-while-falling-under-the-arbitrary-sacrificing-age.

Side note: how do you even define a Vampire “child” anyway? Is it vamp age, total age, pre-vamp age?

Anyway, Valentine captures Simon and the Werewolf who fancies him (oh, by the way, in a shockingly original twist, Vampires and werewolves in Cla(i)re's mythos don't get on with each other) and locks them up in a cage without doing anything. Because, y'know, you can't rush evil rituals. Except that he did the last two times. And now he knows the Clave are onto him. He really shouldn't be beating around the bush with the whole “army of demons” thing is what I'm saying.

So Valentine prevaricates, meaning he only has enough power to raise half an army of demons, because his sword isn't fully evillified yet (so presumably at close of play he has a terrifying sword of Neutrality ... what makes a sword turn neutral?). He drains Simon of blood (which doesn't kill him, because he's a named character) but leaves the Werewolf girl untouched (named character also). This gives our heroes the opportunity to totally brock his shit ap.

Did I say “our heroes”? I of course meant “Clary”. And Jace, a bit.

But I'm a Creep

I'm going to quote something now.

“I think the Queen meant I can draw new runes that are more powerful than ordinary runes, and maybe even create new ones.” Jace shook his head. “No one can create new runes-” “Maybe she can, Jace.” Alec sounded thoughtful. “It's true, none of us have ever seen that Mark on her arm before.”

And something else:

A soft voice spoke inside her head: Who are you, to think you can speak the language of heaven? The pencil moved. She was almost sure that she hadn't moved it but it slid across the paper, describing a single line. She felt her heart skip. She thought of her mother sitting dreamily before her canvas, creating her own vision of the world in ink and oil paint. She thought, Who am I? I am Jocelyn Fray's daughter.

And now something else:

She smiled slightly as she sat down on the stool, placing her left leg across her right and then placed the sorting hat on her head. 'This should be interesting' she thought. The whole hall was silenced in anticipation of which house she would be put in, each person wishing that it were his or her house. 'Strange’ said a voice in her head, 'there are parts of your brain I cannot get into.' 'For good reason' 'Care to tell me those reasons, and where and how you learned such control over your mind?' 'Lets just say there’s more to me than there seems and all will be revealed later.'

And finally:

Kuro chuckled 'kids are so funny now a days. Have to remember I’m supposed to be sixteen so I have to act like them. Damn.' Kuro then waved her had and a small section of table appeared between the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables at the opposite end of the hall from the head table. She waived her hand again and a black throne like chair appeared there. Kuro then turned to face Dumbledore. "Is that acceptable kocho?" "Yes it seems to work." "As you can all see I don't use a wand,” said Kuro as she turned to face her classmates. "I hope that won't be a problem. Now I bet you all wish to eat after that long train ride so I will take my seat." With a final wave of her hand Kuro transported herself to her chair.

Okay, I know it's a cheap shot to compare published novels to PotterSues featured fics but there is, in fact, a similarity of type there. In fact, having read the last section aloud to our esteemed editor, I'd go so far as to say that you'd be hard pressed to tell which was the published work of original fiction, and which was the bad HP fic if it weren't for the specific references to canon.

Cassie Claire's protagonists are some of the biggest sues I have ever encountered. Clary has what seems to be unlimited power, constrained only by the demands of the plot and the author's wishes. If she had been a character in HP fanfic who had the ability to “cast new spells that are more powerful than ordinary spells, and perhaps create new ones” she'd be laughed off of fanfiction.net. But of course it's okay here because she's the “main character” of this totally “original” work of fiction.

I'm going to go off on a sideline here, because I find this rather interesting. Fanfiction is a strange beast, with a lot of peculiar ideas and conventions attached to it. One of the most interesting and abiding rules of Fanfiction (in my limited experience) seems to be “thou shalt not attempt to upstage thy source material”. No HP villains who are more evil than Voldemort or heroes more powerful than Dumbledore. No Lord of the Rings characters who are immune to the power of the ring. No House characters who are better at diagnosing stuff than House.

The interesting thing about this rule is that actually it can be applied pretty readily to original fiction. It's a bit more fluid, because the same person who sets up the rules gets to set up the exceptions to those rules. On the other hand, a writer who breaks the rules which they explicitly and personally created is one of the most infuriating things in the world. Cheap examples of this include Harry Potter's Magic Love Powers and Wand That Acts By Itself, Tom Bombadil's immunity to the ring, Auraya's ability to keep her powers even after the gods have abandoned her (much as I love Trudy Canavan, that one went a bit too far).

Put simply, here's a piece of advice for people writing original fiction: if you couldn't get away with it in fanfic, it probably sucks hard.

I've done the “Clary” / “Claire” / “Clare” joke to death by now, but I'm going to have one more crack at it: Clary Fray, whose first name sounds suspiciously similar to Cassandra Cla(i)re's adopted surname, is a horrible, horrible sue. Leaving aside the “name that sounds a bit like your name” thing, she gets the ability to make up new runes. This is, in fact, functionally equivalent to a Harry Potter character being able to make up new spells (indeed the runes in the Mortal Instruments trilogy – hey! I've just realised that the acronym for that is “TMI” - function rather a lot like potter spells. There's the shielding one, the fast-healing one, the one that opens doors that conveniently fails to work half the time...) it just screams “speshul” at the top of its lungs.

Of course the “defence” of all this stupid speshulness is that there are totally plot reasons for it (which is the defence that people trot out after “it's my story!” and before “if you don't like it don't read it!”). Clary and Jace (who gets awesome jumping powers I shit you not) have apparently been experimented on by Voldemort Valentine, because he wanted to ... well actually we haven't been given a reason yet (it will presumably come out in the final volume City of Glass). Either way I just plain don't care. If you make your protagonist teh super speshul it doesn't matter what half-arsed justification you give for it. You made the decision to write about a character like that. You. Not your muse. Not the harsh necessities of your secondary creation. You.

“I can create new runes that are more powerful than normal runes”. For fuck's sake.

Comments:

http://miss-morland.livejournal.com/ at 16:51 on 2009-02-19Hee! Those chapter headings almost deserve their own article. At first, I was a little impressed by the literary references ('A Season in Hell' seems like an allusion to Rimbaud, for example), but then it just became too much. Also, whiel naming the first chapter of the second part 'The Gates of Hell' is sort of repetitive, it's nothing in comparison to naming one chapter 'Day of Wrath' and another 'Dies Irae', which means EXACTLY THE SAME THING. Love this site!permalink - go to topDan H at 17:07 on 2009-02-19Hiya! Literary references in this sort of book always annoy me. It always feels like a cheap attempt to legitimize your work by saying "look! I've read famous stuff! That means I must be an intelligent person with interesting things to say!" It's sort of like a chef plastering his restaurant with pictures of other people cooking him dinner...permalink - go to topViorica at 17:12 on 2009-02-19On the one hand, I like titles that allude to the classics. On the other . . . she's writing YA urban fantasy. She might as well just title each chapter "This is Deep and Meaningful and Intelligent!"permalink - go to topRami at 17:59 on 2009-02-19naming one chapter 'Day of Wrath' and another 'Dies Irae', which means EXACTLY THE SAME THING Ah, but the second one is in Latin which means it is super-speshul, because everyone knows Latin is the language of the Catholic Church All Magic Evar.permalink - go to tophttp://miss-morland.livejournal.com/ at 23:13 on 2009-02-19Yeah, I agree. She's making it more difficult for herself, too, because evoking the classics just serves to remind people that her own work isn't all that great... (Which I'm saying without even having read the book, but this is a case where I think some amount of prejudice can be justified.) Haha, yes, Latin makes everything more super-speshul. Especially when it's obvious that it's only there to impress the reader (as long as said reader doesn't know/care about what the title actually *means*, that is).permalink - go to topWardog at 12:31 on 2009-02-20(Catherine Morland was always one of my favourite Austen heroines - she is so terribly sweet) I would like to put forward a vote for "And Death Shall Have No Dominion" has the best-worst chapter title ever.permalink - go to topWardog at 12:36 on 2009-02-20At first, I was a little impressed by the literary references ... but then it just became too much. I think you're right, it's excess of desperate literariness that completely sinks this. I mean, I'm all for a few relevant chosen references but this looks like nothing so much as an indiscriminate spree in wiki-quote. Let's see ... let's play the reference spotting game... off the top of my head .. Rimbaud, as you say, The Bible, Dylan Thomas, Milton, Marvell, Steinbeck ... oh pulease, give me a break! permalink - go to tophttp://descrime.livejournal.com/ at 22:19 on 2009-02-20I'm okay with breaking world rules as long as breaking them results in at least some negative consequence for the exception. The protagonist who has powers no one has ever seen before/in centuries is a common trope in YA stories; the good stories just balance that out with something that gets taken away in exchange for that power. The second problem I see from the two sections you quoted is that Clary's new power isn't the result of hard work or persistence in studying this magic or even an innate understanding of the nature of runes or just natural brilliance. She doesn't even seem to be aware of what she's doing. In that passage, they just come to her without thought because she's someone's daughter, and that's just ridiculously cheap in my books.permalink - go to tophttp://miss-morland.livejournal.com/ at 13:23 on 2009-02-21I would like to put forward a vote for "And Death Shall Have No Dominion" has the best-worst chapter title ever. I think you're right. *g* Although now I'm sort of curious as to what chapter headings she'll invent for her next novel...permalink - go to topWardog at 14:42 on 2009-02-21I'm not sure Dan will survive her next novel...permalink - go to tophttp://rudecyrus.livejournal.com/ at 04:02 on 2009-02-22When did books for young adults and children become so damn mediocre?permalink - go to tophttp://katsullivan.insanejournal.com/ at 09:53 on 2009-02-22Isabel is ... not in it much actually, having been relegated to the place where girls who are hotter than the protagonist get sent in the second book" Ha ha! That's funny. But don't forget that according to Jace, Clary is more beeyootiful than Isabelle and Isabelle is jeluz of her. Clary's Sue-nature gets even better in Book 3 when a 3rd character - a hot dude called Sebastian - also falls in love with her. You will be interested to know that the chapter titles from the 3rd book - City of Glass are just as pretentious of the other books. This is from her Livejournal, with explanations from where she got the titles from: Chapter One: The Portal Self-explanatory, especially if you've read the first chapter. Chapter Two: The Demon Towers of Alicante “Those are the demon towers,” Jace said, in response to Simon’s unasked question. “They control the wards that protect the city. Because of them, no demon can enter Alicante.” Chapter Three: Amatis In which we meet Amatis, a character mentioned once, briefly, in Ashes. Chapter Four: Daylighter Well, what else are you going to call a vampire who can walk around during the day? Chapter Five: A Problem of Memory In which the Inquisitor would like Simon to remember something that never actually happened. Chapter Six: One of the Living “A true vampire knows he is dead. He accepts his death. But you, you think you are still one of the living," said Raphael. Chapter Seven: Bad Blood "“Everyone seemed to blanch when your name came up earlier," said Sebastian. "I gathered there was some bad blood between your brother and you.” Chapter Eight: Where Angels Fear to Tread “Fools rush in/Where angels fear to tread” — Alexander Pope Chapter Nine: This Guilty Blood “I am ashamed/of these foul deeds;/Nor with this guilty blood/Sprinkled, would I pollute the innocent.” —Euripedes, Hercules Chapter Ten: Fire and Sword “Their state The noblest-born must abdicate; The fairest, while with fire and sword Come Spoilers--horde impelling horde.” — William Wordsworth Chapter Eleven: All the Host of Hell Milton. “the hollow abyss Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell With deafening shout returned them loud acclaim." Chapter Twelve: De Profundis De profundis: In Latin, "out of the depths.” Psalm 130 is known as "De Profundis;" it begins "Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord." Chapter Thirteen: Where There is Sorrow Oscar Wilde. “Where there is sorrow, there is holy ground.” Chapter Fourteen: In the Dark Forest Reference to the beginning of Dante’s Inferno. “I found myself within a forest dark” — the narrator, Dante, wanders in a dark forest of confusion and grief. Chapter Fifteen: Things Fall Apart Yeats’s famous poem “The Second Coming” : “Things fall apart/The center cannot hold” Chapter Sixteen: Articles of Faith Articles of faith is a general expression for statements of faith-belief all across Christianity and other religions. The Nicene Creed ("Credo in unum Deum, Patrem omnipotentem, factorum coeli et terrae") is an article of faith. Chapter Seventeen: The Shadowhunter's Tale This mirrors The Werewolf’s Tale in book one. Chapter Eighteen: Hail and Farewell From a poem by Catullus. Ave Atque Vale, means hail and farewell. Shadowhunters say it when someone dies in battle. Chapter Nineteen: Peniel Peniel is where Jacob wrestled the angel in the Bible. Chapter Twenty: Weighed in the Balance “Mene Mene Tekel Upharsin” : “You are weighed in the balance, and found wanting.” From the book of Daniel. Epilogue: Across the Sky in Stars TE Lawrence: “Because I loved you, I took these tides of men into my hands, and wrote my will across the sky in stars.” permalink - go to tophttp://athread.livejournal.com/ at 14:15 on 2009-02-22A group of girls in my school have become obsessed with Cassie Claire (the new Twilight? I live in hope.) and read/analyse her books over and over again. If I hear CC called "a modern genius" in French class one more time, SOMEBODY WILL DIE, seriously. I flicked through the first book in Easons a few weeks ago and could tell from the one page I read that it was crap. I'm also a bit shocked that she actually named one of the chapters A Season in Hell, since, you know, one of her most famous H/D fanfics is called that. She's not even trying to get away from the whole fandom thing.permalink - go to topViorica at 18:19 on 2009-02-22Of course she isn't. That's why she got a three-book contract; it's why she had a built-in fanbase. Moving away from it would be bad for her career. When did books for young adults and children become so damn mediocre? Since authors decided that kids and teens were too dumb to appreciate quality, so they could churn out pages of crap, an it's be eaten up by the target audience. Sadly, they aren't wrong. It irritates me, since I'm a part of the target audience, and I'm sick of getting lumped in with people who think Cassie Clare's or Anna Godberson's stuff is the height of literary genius.permalink - go to topDan H at 20:06 on 2009-02-22Yeats’s famous poem “The Second Coming” : “Things fall apart/The center cannot hold” Hooray! One of the many things I would absolutely *love* to see in a modern fantasy novel somebody quoting the *first* line of the second coming. "Turning and Turning in the Widening Gyre" or possibly "The Falcon Cannot Hear the Falconer" would make excellent pretentious chapter titles. Also, I'd like to add that I actually scrolled *up* to your post from below, so I looked at it, laughed, then read it again and went "wait, those are the *actual* chapter titles, I thought she was making this up". permalink - go to topWardog at 20:14 on 2009-02-22When did books for young adults and children become so damn mediocre To be fair, YA is *also* producing some of the most exciting authors my jaded heart has encountered for many a cold year. For every Cassie Clare, there's a Melinda Marchetta, for every Anna Godberson a Catherine Fisher.permalink - go to topSonia Mitchell at 22:05 on 2009-02-22Theresa Breslin, Stewart and Riddell, Charlotte Hatpie, Philip Reeve... there's a lot of decent stuff out there. But like other genres, when authors start imitating each other things spiral into crap. I think on the whole YA is doing better than thrillers and fantasy in that respect - it's a genre I'm more willing to take risks in because the chance of a pleasant surprise seems a lot higher. (As an aside - is YA a genre as such? Or something else? Marketing category maybe? I'm hazy on the boundaries)permalink - go to topWardog at 11:26 on 2009-02-23Oh my God, the chapters for book 3 are even worse - thank you for, err, sharing the pain =Ppermalink - go to topWardog at 16:34 on 2009-02-26Also am I the only person who finds the tagline a little bit amusing? The Shadowhunter war rages on ... shouldn't it just be "the shadowhunter war rages". The addition of the "on" makes it sound like its tediously extended. You might as well say "the shadowhunter war drags on" (and on).permalink - go to tophttp://mary-j-59.livejournal.com/ at 04:40 on 2009-02-28Hi! I can comment at last! About Cassandra Clare: I have refused to buy or read these books because I discovered she had plagiarized Pamela Dean. That was enough for me. But, Dan, I'm a huge Tolkien fan, and I actually think Tom Bombadil's power over the ring works. It works because it's made quite clear that Bombadil's powers are constrained by space - he is the ruler of a tiny kingdom - and because it's also clear that, as Gandalf says, he would be a most unsafe guardian. He cannot remember the ring exists *because* it has no hold on his mind. And if he can't remember it, he can't guard it. Which is like something descrime said above. If someone has a superpower, it should have constraints. Bombadil is constrained, and Clary apparently isn't. Just my two cents-permalink - go to tophttp://disdainful-soul.livejournal.com/ at 10:16 on 2009-03-16I'm also a bit shocked that she actually named one of the chapters A Season in Hell, since, you know, one of her most famous H/D fanfics is called that. She's not even trying to get away from the whole fandom thing. If you think that's bad, the trilogy takes its name from a Ginny/Ron incest fic. If she was trying to get away from fandom she would publish it under a name that wasn't so close to her fandom one (removing the "i" does not make the change clever, Cla(i)re) and stop putting in references to fandom and fandom people all throughout the book. Other fic authors have gone on to be published and don't ride on the coattails of fandom to get there.permalink - go to topWardog at 09:32 on 2009-03-18I think the point is that once you've made a claim to having read Rimbaud you want to make that claim as often as possible :)permalink - go to topWordless at 07:58 on 2009-11-10From a poem by Catullus. Ave Atque Vale, means hail and farewell. Shadowhunters say it when someone dies in battle. sorry but i had to know, do they do it in a funeral procession afterwards or do they do it in battle? does every one stop fighting and do the whole latin tellytubby "BYYYE bubye byee!!!!" thing. if so that totally rocks.permalink - go to topWordless at 08:03 on 2009-11-10Also I noticed that half the titles have absolutely no relevance to what happens in the chapter....is there a rule somewhere that says quoting original literature somehow makes you original??? Bah!

#Ferretbrain #The Mortal Instruments #Cassandra Clare #Fanfiction #City of Ashes #Dan H

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