☆ the dove
{☆} characters tsaritsa
{☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings violence, blood
{☆} word count 0.7k
Her hands are weapons, forged in a tragedy as much as a war of ash and blood that seeps into the earth and rots it from within. To them, however, she is salvation. Her hands are a kindness, not a threat. She sees it in their puffy, red eyes just brimming with tears, their fragile body so delicate and weak is still remains marred by wounds new and old – the gold still stains their skin, even long after it had been washed away.
She has seen it all – and she takes the injured dove beneath her wing with the sickly sweet promise that someday she shall mend its broken wings and teach it to fly again.
And in their stupor, they do not see her clip their wings.
It is for the best.
The wolves still salivate below the nest, waiting for her little dove to fall again – no, she shall not send her little bird to fly when it will just fall into their waiting maws once again.
This..this one is hers, she has decided.
Her little bird who dreams of the sky and the woman who clips their wings..what a tragic pair they must make, she thinks.
Not for her, of course. Yet not to them, either, unaware of the way she grounds them and keeps the key to their cage tightly in her fist.
"Tsaritsa?" The soft, meek lilt of the little bird draws her from her reverie, and she smiles – all teeth and little else, wolfish and predatory.
Yet the bird sees nothing but love in the sharp points of her canines.
As it was meant to be.
"Yes, little bird?"
She coos in honeyed tones, brushing her cold, cold hands against their skin, reveling in the way they shiver and shake beneath the ever present chill in her very bones. They do not fear the claws that ghost across their skin, and the smile they offer that illuminates their eyes like stars only proves her right – she wants to devour them whole. To see the stars in their eyes burn out beneath her teeth, their golden blood burn upon her tongue and down her throat.
"You promised to take me to the gardens today, remember?"
Her pearly, sharpened fangs peer out beneath her lips as she grins wider, unnerving to all but the little bird who sees not the wolf but the wool it wears, her hands finding their place upon their shoulders as she whispers into their ear.
She will guide her little bird where they cannot go, where their clipped wings cannot take them.
She will give them that bittersweet taste of freedom and then watch them try to catch the stars..
Just to drag them back down to earth where they belong.
"Of course, Creator – I am a woman of my word, am I not?"
Such sickly sweet lies come to her with ease – she lies and she lies and they do not see past the woolen cloak of the wolf until its jaw has snapped around its throat and its blood has painted the world a shimmering gold.
She will delight in that, too.
"If I may be so bold, Creator, you have been distant lately..have you grown tired of me already?"
Her words were as sharp as a blade, yet as dull as a rock, as sweet as they were dangerous. Like watching a mouse trap luring in its prey, she would snap it shut as soon as the little bird strayed too close.
"No! No, that's not..you've just been busy lately, I didn't want to intrude."
They remind her so much of a rabbit in those moments, and she so badly wants to know what would happen if she just took a small, insignificant bite..yet she restrains herself with a far too wide smile, her jaw clenched so hard she almost thinks they will hear it creak.
"Intrude? You could ever hardly intrude, Creator – what is mine is yours. Though, perhaps I shall have to lock you in my room to ensure you compensate me for depriving me of your presence."
In just a few short words, she snares the rabbit – her little bird, her Creator. They will see nothing but the sickly sweet lure of her smile, letting out a pretty laugh of their own as they press closer, like a bird wandering into the open maw of the beast lying in wait.
"As long as it has a nice view, I suppose I won't mind."
They jest, but she does not. And oh, how easy it is to ensnare an unsuspecting prey.
"Of course, Creator – just for you."
It won't be long until her little bird returns to its gilded cage, now. Permanently.
It is better that way.
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bro why did i have 3 seperate dreams last night about so much weird and stressful shit. i wanna sleep let me sleep
my dreams included:
1) being struck by a mysterious flux in reality where people go slightly nuts, and can control anyone around them for a short time. i was made to grab a knife and almost stab myself in the stomach and like. im often half aware of things being dreams when I'm in them, so i started screaming bloody murder so that someone could hear & come wake me up before i had to experience that dog shit. i got woken up by a ghost version of my husband???
2) dreamt i was in a crumbling marriage and my husband couldn't stop being mad at me when i was getting upset over small but mean things he was (very uncharacteristically) doing. and then forced to act normal around family, by him, and act so so lovey it made me wanna hurl.
3) me and a group of people being hunted by the government or some kind of shadow society or some shit and so we kept bouncing around different safe places and at one point we just strolled up to this really fancy home owned by a really large family of australian people, the mother of which de-chipped our car, sheltered us and let us eat and shower and gave us protection, and also covert sniped like 500 people who came looking for us outside of her home like it was just her daily hobby.
also there was a baby and an even smaller miniature baby paired with said baby, in every one of these dreams that i had to deal with in really rare but random intervals. like oh shit we're being chased through a warehouse by angry armed men. gotta go find baby+minibaby in one of these rooms ive never been in. cant leave those things behind.
im still sofucking tired but these dreams are almost tiring me out more than being awake.
what the hell
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Sméagol and the Gift
'Now!' said Sam. 'At last I can deal with you!' He leaped forward with drawn blade ready for battle. But Gollum did not spring. He fell flat upon the ground and whimpered.
'Don't kill us,' he wept. 'Don't hurt us with nassty cruel steel! Let us live, yes, live just a little longer. Lost lost! We're lost. And when Precious goes we'll die, yes, die into the dust.'
Devastated by this. Just a little longer, he begs. Even though his existence is a torment. Even though the will that holds him to life is barely his own anymore. He has long outlived his time but it's such a cruelty that now the only freedom for him is in death. I'm glad Sam didn't kill him but the whole scenario is awful.
When a mortal keeps a ring of power he does not gain more life, he continues, denied natural mortality as the fear of death is amplified and twisted into fear of separation, nothing matters anymore but the keeping, the continuing. In that miserable existence there is no peace, and at its end there is no graceful goodbye to life, there is only dust. Sudden, empty, and final.
It would take murder to spare him that. Or falling with the ring into the fire.
Bilbo let it go in time (did he feel anything when it was destroyed?) Frodo is freed of it now, though the toll it extracted for the separation was at very least a finger. It was too late for Gollum for the price to be anything other than it was, and that's brutal.
If you live long enough, death is no longer the enemy. What Sauron did to Gollum ensured that it would always be the enemy, to be feared and avoided for ever, once time and the ring had fashioned it into the only escape left. Evil.
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see i don't even disagree w you, it's the specific jikook brand of omegaverse that is rly just an excuse to write straight romance undetected. like you can't convince me that if you replace jm and jk from the average jikook fic with a straight couple something would feel different. and please don't feel included in this because you know how to write a great plot and establish characters ok!!! actually i think i read a bakudeku fic once! it was superr popular and short i think? i tried reading some jujutsu kaisen ff and yeah there's some good stuff out there but nothing compares to the emotional attachment i have to bts so 😞 i need to fixate on something else asap❗
you would not believe. how many times i've tried answering this ask before i dissolve into Yapping. sorry. i have a lot of thoughts about the type of fic you're describing i really do. it's bothered me for a long time. my general thoughts are that. bts ao3 fic is a very short walk from wattpad band fic. so a lot of those sorts of people end up over here that dont have that Shame the rest of us nerds do who grew up writing cringey ass book and anime fic when we were teens that pushed us to experiment with writing in complete anonymity and write fucked up and shit stuff and we started Caring abt what we wrote. and also the wattpad band fic environment is so different to the ao3 m/m. but if you know a little grammar and you actually finish the fic the story just gets so unbelievably popular on its own.
that being said there are good fics still in bts jikook. i havent found them yet but i know they're in there. there's gotta be at least one brave soldier left fighting against swathes of people who probably unironically read colleen hoover for fun. there's gotta be. i refuse to live in a world where there isnt
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