#his whole hate and desire for revenge was about that eye and now it’s just gone??

[fate221]

AU: where Lucerys managed to escape from the Storm’s End, but never told anyone about what’s happened there. He didn’t even know why, but later he understood he actually felt guilty in front of Aemond because of the child fight. After that time passed, the situation between families was still tense and the Dance of Dragons has been just delayed. But before that every part of family had to deal with its own problems. And during one of the battles for Driftmark already adult Lucerys was hardly injured, he lost his eye but survived once again. Aemond finds out about this only when they meet in the Kings Landing once for a while.

[bonefall]

For the cat who takes out Juniperclaw, maybe if any of Leafstar's kits are still alive besides Harrybrook (or just him idk how you characterize any of the three), perhaps one of them would go with it? Leafstar might not have liked "an eye for an eye" and she'd probably teach them it's wrong to seek revenge, but I do think one of them can be talked into it, in the name of SkyClan and Leafstar. Make it more personal when Juniperclaw is told who they are in relation to the cat he killed, making it click in his head what is about to happen.

Oooo, great idea, I GOTTA do that... hmmm. Much as I wish I could cash in another chip for Firefern, since I adore her name, it's gotta be Harrybrook.

In-canon, his character is consistently harsh and distrusting and he's got it even worse in BB. It could be like his mother is the only thing actually holding him back. If anyone is going to end up being Waspstar's "Cleaner," it absolutely has to be him.

Harrybrook: We had a good thing, you stupid son of a foxheart! We had Leafstar, we had a camp, we had everything we needed and it all ran like woodwork! You could have shut your mouth, hunted, and caught as much prey as you ever needed. It was perfect! But no! You just had to blow it up! You, and your pride and your ego! You just had to be the man! If you’d known your place, we’d all be fine right now!

A little recap of BB!Harrybrook, since it's been a while since I've mentioned him or any of his fragments;

Harrybrook is the son of Leafstar, Echosong, and Billystorm.

SkyClan does not have the Cleric's Vow.

This is because SkyClan was exiled at the beginning of the Ripple Era; before Larkstripe's Strike which resulted in the unofficial vow being codified.

it is actually a positive in their culture if their Cleric previously raised kittens. Echosong probably did have other litters in her long life.

Echosong is also alive to the current arc; Frecklewing joined with The Kin. Fidgetflake is still around, but he's probably still the "junior" Cleric of sorts.

Important point being that Harrybrook has personal stake in SkyClan's unique customs. His only surviving parent is a Cleric.

I wouldn't be surprised if this is what makes him such an effective killer. He has a knowledge of poisons and anatomy.

All cats know where the carotid artery is, they find it all the time when they put the killing bite in the wrong spot. Habr knows where else a single blow can bleed you out.

As a little kitten, he was named after Harry, who helped to save his mother.

What no one knew at the time was that Harry was being courted by an ancient monster. Sol, the God of Autumn, Change, and Tricks, wanted to play a game.

The rules were simple; Sacrifice three kits.

Sol wanted to see how far Harry, once baring the name Cinders, would go in pursuit of the power it could offer him. Sol HATES a boring vessel.

Harry JUMPED at the chance, offering two of his own kits as the last one got away. He just needed one more.

SkyClan almost tempted him into tucking his ambition away. Here, he was safe and accepted for the first time... but his desire for power won out in the end.

Sol offers immortality, the ability to mould reality like clay, the whole world could be Harry's toy.

(WIP SECTION)

In some way, Sol was able to manipulate Billystorm. I'm still working out how severe this manipulation was.

He likely got to Leafstar too. Possibly intentionally driving a wedge between them-- convincing Billystorm that SkyClan was unsafe and he'd raised the kits more than either his mate or his mate's girlfriend. He had a right to keep them safe, even if that meant taking them from everything they'd ever known.

And to Leafstar, he told her Billystorm was plotting against her. That she needed to be as firm with him as she is with the cantankerous Sharpclaw. If she's not, he might take those kittens back to his humans, and who knows what they'd do?

In any case, a fight between them causes Billystorm to leave. I'm not sure if I'm keeping Leafstar exiling him.

(Note: I don't really like how either character acts in the canon story. Or the framing. Or... anything about it really. It's bad Todd.)

In the past, I'd made it so Billy ended up trying to take the kids to his human, and then the human was the one who decided to get rid of the kits. INSTEAD it works a LOT better if Billystorm went back to his humans, and Harry then used this as a lure to get the kittens out of camp.

"Let's go visit your Ba, kittens. I know where he is. Just follow me."

While living in the town, Billystorm meets up with the child of Harry who got away, and learns that they've all been set up.

Billystorm deserves to go run save his kids and punch a God in the face I think.

DAYLIGHT WARRIOR MORE LIKE LIGHTS OUT WARRIOR! KAPOW!!

(Much as I will miss the gutpunch brutality of Billystorm realizing that his human can't be trusted. I'll just use the idea someplace else.)

(WIP SECTION END)

Stormkit was unable to be saved. There was only Firefern and Harrybrook.

Harry has been terrified of water since then. It represents everything awful that's ever happened to him.

He doesn't even like when it rains. Storms always seem to bring terrible things.

Firefern ended up dying on the journey to the Lake. I'm leaning towards changing it to infection, during the time that Echosong is missing (taking Frecklewing's arc).

Her other mother wasn't there to help her, and she died of something preventable. Something Harry knows she could have healed.

Harrybrook hates his name. I think he was too quiet about it, though, to the point where his family wasn't aware of it.

They probably figured it was overwriting Harry's memory. It's Harrybrook's name now, instead. Harry just feels like it's a reminder of being tricked.

I think at one point he should get an honor title, but I'm still working it out. He might just be keeping Harrybrook as a grim reminder.

If it's him who kills Juniperclaw, I know for a fact he'd take Waspstar's orders very seriously; "Please be discreet and professional." It's only mostly personal, you see. More importantly, this is for SkyClan.

Leafstar wouldn't have approved. But she's not here now.

He'd quietly intercept Juniperclaw as he approaches the camp, standing in his way, looking him up and down without a twinge of emotion on his face. Juniperclaw's hackles are raised immediately. He lived with SkyClan before Heartstar reformed ShadowClan-- everyone knows who Harveybrook is.

"I've- I've come to pay my respects," He says proudly, standing tall and noble. Even after that he did, he has the boldness to hold himself as a brave warrior. What he knows he did, and to who he's talking to. Harrybrook shouldn't fault him for not knowing how arrogant he comes across-- but does anyway.

"Yes, we've been expecting you," He flicks his tail and dips his head respectfully, "Right this way."

The trail doesn't lead to camp.

When Juniperclaw begins to realize that they're taking a strange path, he just waves it away as an odd feeling. It's been a while since he's been here, after all. But the tickle doesn't go away. It gets stronger and stronger, until he recognizes the northern border of what used to be ShadowClan's full range.

And that's when he halts, "Where exactly are you taking me?"

"Not any further if you don't want to," Though Harrybrook's eyes are wide like he's about to pounce on prey and his massive body is buckled low, prowling, sizing up the distance between them, his tone is soft. Like he's gently explaining something to a fellow warrior. "This would be far enough."

The ex-deputy swallows on a dry throat, frozen in place. Harrybrook relaxes his stance. Juniperclaw seems to be very good at taking orders, just like he is. He knows exactly what to do to keep this discreet and professional.

"If you'd like, we can finish the long walk. It's a place my mother used to like. It has flowers, butterflies, it's a lovely haven," He relaxes his stance, meeting Juniperclaw's terrified eyes with a calm, dutiful look.

The panic distills into a resolve. Like something clicked in his mind, and he was coming to one of those unspoken conclusions that these Forest Four cats all seem to have figured out between them. "All right. I... I think I know the haven you're talking about. We can have our fight there. There's no need to make a scene."

Harrybrook's ear flicks, but Juniperclaw doesn't see it as he brushes past him. It seems he misunderstood what this is. He thinks this is an invocation of the Right to Challenge. That this is going to be a fair fight between warriors.

It's the last mistake he ever made. But he doesn't feel a thing. Back turned to his killer, he hears the snap before he learns in StarClan that it was the sound of his own neck.

[sexydoffyman]

LITTLE MAN P.2

genre: suggestive

characters: König

A/N: Hope it’s good!

P.1 P.2 P.3

It has been a week since he noticed that you made him feel some kind of way. He hated it with his whole heart, but he couldn’t contain himself in your presence. He was supposed to be the one who mocks people. He told himself countless times that it was wrong and he has to get his shit together. Nothing helped. With no hope, he decided to do the only thing on his mind.

It was late at night and you were just sitting around relaxing. He walked to your side. Although you already noticed him you pretended you didn’t. You wanted to see how he would approach you. You thought that he was there to tell you he was going to report you or something like that. You surely didn’t expect it when he said that he wants you to fuck him up.

König realised that if he wanted to get you off of his mind he had to take care of his desires first.

You were in bis room. You were a bit jealous. It was way bigger than anyone you met. He even had his own shower. He sat down on his bed. “Do your thing.” He said he felt almost defeated. You looked him in the eyes. “So you think you can just say that you want something and you’ll get it?” He looked at you surprised. Before he could say anything you cut him off. “You got to earn it if you want it.”

You found it fun to mess with him but to see him give up felt so demotivating. You turned around to walk away. “And what is the thing that I’m supposed to do?” You gave him an almost disgusted glance. “Figure it out.” He felt bad and good at the same time. You managed to put him down despite his rank.

That night he thought about the whole interaction and about just how pathetic he was. This time he didn’t want your attention. He wanted you. He wanted to put you in your place. He thought about it, thinking about all the ways he could humiliate you. Many ideas came to his mind but he ignored all of them. He wanted to win this fair and square. The biggest problem was your size, but he would deal with that easily.

You were eating your breakfast when you were informed that you were going to clean the toilets for at least a week. You were pissed, but you could deal with it. More men with a higher rank than you were ordering you to run laps for no reason. By this time you forgot about the situation with König so you couldn’t possibly think that it was him.

That was until you were running laps again when you noticed that the captain who was supervising you was missing. You found it strange. You kept running for a bit and realised that König was standing just a few meters away. He was watching you with a smirk on his face. You quickly remembered all that happened. Filled with anger you ran to him. You were about to speak, but he interrupted you. “You still have two more laps to go.” You looked at him defeated.

You didn’t even say anything and started running again. Your size made it way more exhausting. By the time you got to end it, you were drenched in sweat. You finished your laps and layed down on the ground. He walked to you and looked at you. That gave you the motivation to argue with him once again.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” You were so exhausted your voice cracked. “Of course, I am.” He responded. “Oh, so mister here couldn’t take it and had to get revenge?!” You said in a mocking tone. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He paused as you looked at him puzzled. “You are exactly how I want you to be.”

He grabbed you by the collar and shoved you against a wall. You fell on your ass and he just crouched to get on your level. You only huffed exhaustedly. “Now you are the smaller one.”

He spoke suggestively as he started to unbutton his pants.

[paint-it-dead]

I googled the Belladonna of Sadness and: “To take revenge, she makes a pact with the Devil himself who appears as an erotic sprite and transforms her into a black-robed vision of madness and desire.” (Femto, the blessed king of longing) “The spirit visits Jeanne once again and rapes her in exchange for more riches“ (Gennon and Griffith) ”the baron offers to make Jeanne the second-highest noble in the land, but she refuses, saying she wishes to take over the entire world.” (Ok Miura HAD to have seen this, right? Wtf…Griffith…)

omg if you havent watched it check it out, check it out, check it out!!!!!

i think i read somewhere that Miura was inspired by it in writing Berserk? but i cant say that with full confidence...

but the parallels!!! the story goes even deeper than what you said! its been almost a year since ive watched it, so my memory of it is not 100%, but ill talk about what i can remember!

(spoilers ofc)

it contains incredible artwork and its set in pre-revolution France(remind you of another manga berserk was inspired by?) and it talks about a beautiful woman- The Most Beautiful Woman Alive!!!- who has just gotten married to the love of her life! but the marriage can only be made legal by the king/ the baron of the lands(an aristocrat of sorts i dont recall properly) who immediately as he sees her, takes her and rapes her. what should have been the happiest night of her life spent with her lover, is spent being defiled, helpless as she is to fight her fate; a poor powerless woman against the all powerful aristocrat. she becomes someone else; traumatised and desperate and her husband cannot look at her the same anymore. but amid all the grief regarding what was taken from her and how she was changed, arises a new emotion: rage. she wants power. she wants vengance. for every petal of hers that was wilted, she wants to birth a new thorn.

now if you're trying to draw parallels, ig this can be a perfect parallel with griffith getting tortured by the king. the helplessness and the toll of it all. the way how it affects his decision-making in the series.

but now as our beautiful woman is stuck in her bottomless desparate anguish, a new character appears before her: a small evil spectre! he looks her straight in the eyes and says. i am you. and you are me. give everything you have to me and i will grant you what you wish for: a chance to make things even. she is poor, she has nothing to give. so the spectre takes her body. defiles her the same way. and she is granted success. she is granted money. her husband and her reap the benefits of her new powers. now the aristocrat is feeling threatened by her status, tries to appease her-offers her lands and riches beyond a simple commoners imagination. but she, unbothered, responds:"money? lands? im not interested in something as small as that, beacuse im going to take over the world." appalled by her ambition, the aristocrat orders she be exiled as a witch, never to return. this whole time the spectre just grows bigger and bigger. stronger and stronger. the more she hates and gains and succeeds, the louder it roars. the more angry and resentful she becomes, the hungrier it grows. its goal: to break her strong spirit piece by piece, little by little. and when she is exiled and thoroughly broken, it reveals himself: he is actually the devil. he asks: what do you crave? he knows what she wants: power. she asks him to make her into a devil, into a wicked, ugly, wrathful woman who will strike fear into the hearts of anybody who crosses her. she doesnt want to be desirable anymore. her beauty was her cage, her curse. and thats what the specter does. transforms her into an all powerful demon.

but as she aweakens from the transformation, she notices that she has become lovlier, more desirable than she ever was before, an otherworldly, overwhelming type of beauty. she anguishes over this. asks for explanations. she wanted to be terrible, scary and full of rage and anger. to this, the devil responds: "who says that anger and rage cannot be beautiful?"

in berserk, this could be a parallel with the godhand offering griffith his option to sacrifice at his lowest point, and griffith's transformation into a devil -femto- and later into an otherworldly beauty - neo-griffith. there is nothing lovely or lovable left in him anymore, but he is the most lovely and beloved character by everyone in the show after his neo-griffith transformation. his power knows no equal and he strikes fear into the hearts of all who dare cross him. nothing will ever touch him again and nothing will ever be taken from him again, unless he wills it.

so she lives in exile, her otherworldly powers making her a diety of sorts, one people love and worship. one day, her husband, mad at himself and sick with love for her, goes to her to ask for her forgiveness. he couldn't save her when she needed him, and he couldn't protect her when she was taken from him, so all he does is ask for forgiveness. and amid her power-hungry, hatered spinning days of rage, she blooms with love for him, everything else thrown aside or forgotten. he was all she had ever wanted once after all. they fall into each other, one last time before tragedy strikes.

the aristocrat, terrified of her, her power, the support people gave her, orders for her to be burned at the stake. as the flames overwhelm her and she cries out one last time, the people witnessing the scene, cry out in uproar. they kill the king, avenge her and become a lingering flame in the calamitous fire of the french revolution. even though she is no longer there, she achieves exactly what she wanted- vengence against those who wronged her, and world domination, as the uproar from her tragedy, is what kickstarts the world to change.

now the whole parallels with griffith i made clear in italics, but there i dont think that thet is where the parallels with berserk end. there is another character, whose case could be argued, might have been inspired by this movie: casca. the unfortunate fate of the woman, the defilement and heartbreak she experiences because of conditions she cannot control, her story is drowning in them. i believe, if Miura was indeed inspired by this movie, that casca's story takes root in this unfortunate fate this character suffers through, but the only element present in casca's story is the heartbreak and pain, the rage and vengeance part is yet to be seen.

this movie seems to overlap both of these characters journeys, emotions and characterisations. if i have made a post about their alikeness before, this movie would be the main thesis for it. they switch roles and imagery within this "belladonna" character to the point where you cant make a case for one without mentioning the other. he becomes a demon, she becomes a witch. he falls in desperation, she falls into her lover's arms. he takes over the world, she gets burned at the stake. he gets the purpose, she gets the tragedy.

overall, berserk or not, belladonna of sadness is a beautiful story and 100% worth the watch. it contains some of my favourite lines of dialogue and scenes ive ever seen in animated media. its experimental and different, but man, isnt it captivating. WATCH IT!!!

[oh-shtars]

Hello flick’s cool alternative blog! Can I christen it with a prompt? Give any random thing you’re excited to explore in your AU

Heeeyy!!!!! ✨✨

You know, I was planning to accompany this ask with doodles but I’m going to have a busy week and most likely won’t get the time. But then I didn’t want to keep you waiting for a while so. DAMMIT-

For now, I’ll answer this with words. But keep an eye out for the RFTS!Drawing Dump I’d be posting here on @oh-shtars. (Friendly reminder to follow this RFTS!Blog if you haven’t already.)

But yeah, some random things I’m excited to explore in the Reach for the Stars!AU! :)

1. Valentino

Okay, I know what you’re thinking. “wtf Flicker-?” Hear me out first.

I did attempt to make Valentino (or ‘Tino’ for short) a lot more endearing than his canon version. And honestly, I grew to like the little guy.

He’s just a 1 month old kid who views Asha as his parent after his actual mother rejected him. (Some animal moms tend to do that.) Once he was bottle-fed and grew stronger, he’s ready to face the world head-first.

No really, he would headbutt anything that bothers him or Asha, regardless of who they are. She even adorably dubbed him her “loyal protector.” Don’t worry, the headbutts don’t hurt as much and the worst they can be is annoying. Tino is impulsive and brave but cares a whole lot about Asha.

He didn’t like Star at first, even when the latter tried to ensure him he’s no threat. Tino disliked him for scaring Asha at their first meeting and over the story, gets a little jealous and bratty that he’s getting a lot closer to her. Like a lot… Idk, I find it funny that their first interaction is something like:

But eventually, Tino grows to like him and comes to become protective and endearing to BOTH of them now. Just imagine this scene, but instead of Canon!Star, Tino was more than ready to charge at Magnifico while RFTS!Asha and Star lunged to stop him:

So yeah. I, Flicker, had gotten to love RFTS!Valentino more than I expected. Not only would he be a little comedic animal sidekick, but he’s going to play a neat role in the final battle and have Asha’s back the entire time, while not letting his size stop him.

Tino’s going to be fun to write :))

………

2. Magnifico’s Character

Remember when I said RFTS!Magnifico is just brimming with unresolved trauma/issues? Well, then he projects all that towards people that don’t deserve it. He’s sour and furious on how the universe turned its back on him as a little kid when he watched his village get destroyed.

And under being raised by his adoptive father, who just never seems to listen to him, Magnifico thirsts for revenge and thinks he deserves to get the world that he and Amaya were denied from. So he would step on other people to get his way.

Another thing about him, is that the moment Magnifico discovered Wishing Stars exist, he genuinely thought they ignored his pleas for help and downright hates it. He unleashes that frustration onto Star and his whole kind.

Frustrations like how people only really care about you for your potential and the things you can offer. Mag had a belief that King Oliver had only took him in just so that he would have an heir for the throne, but didn’t actually loved or cared for him like a son. (Which wasn’t true.) So Magnifico projected that onto Star for the past decade he was caged, stating that:

“You know people only value you for what you could offer…. In your case, it’s your ability to grant wishes. For mine, it’s being a sorcerer AND an heir... But without all that..Well, you can really only imagine…”

So guess where Star’s insecurities came from:

RFTS!Magnifico is going to be an interesting villain, that’s for sure.

……..

3. Asha’s Wish

Asha, before and through the story, has a little habit she does every night before going to sleep. She whispers to the sky her wishes and desires and some of her concerns.

It’s a little thing her father used to do with her before he passed away, and she holds onto it as a memory of him. Tomás used to say that if she does this every night, then she wakes up the next day feeling refreshed and start the morning new. Maybe, just maybe, the stars above would be listening and would try to help.

Present Asha now believes that all those stories were just fairytales but she still hung onto them dearly since it’s one of the remaining things left of her dad. She also has this one wish:

“For everything to go back to the way it was. When dad is still here and that I never drifted away from my 7 friends. To wake up and see that the incident was just a mere dream.”

Welp….I sure hope that one wish doesn’t come back to bite her in the arse anytime soon-

…….

4. The 7 Teens

Somehow, I found a way I could make each of them have a part to play. Each friend that Asha had gotten estranged from ever since the “incident with her dad,” share a bit about themselves and rekindle their relationship with Asha. These short plots would be scattered at certain times throughout the story as Asha and Star encounter them on their journey.

And at the same time, each teen presents a positive trait of theirs that shows a very cautious Star, how not all humans are terrible people. Each show an example of an admirable trait:

Safi - Selflessness and integrity. Helping others even if it inconveniences him (Allergies)

Simon - Protectiveness. He means well but it doesn’t always show up right.

Bazeema - Consideration and kindness for others. (Doing small things to make them comfortable)

Dahlia - Determination + Loyalty

Dario - Patience + Forgiveness (Especially since he’s hard of hearing)

Gabo - Justice and hatred towards prejudice (it’s why he’s grumpy)

Hal - Helpfulness and the happiness received from doing so

Asha - Empathy and Love for others

Basically, these group of friends revive Star’s wonder and slowly help him become more trusting and open. In Star’s eyes, it’s amazing how they do all these incredible things for others even without the need for magic!

Idk, I think all this would be a very sweet thing to brainstorm. Haven’t finished developing this idea yet but I’m loving it so far 💖

[fivewholeminutes]

there’s a part in take me back to Eden that says “i’m in a waking hell and the gods grow tired.” do you think it’s referencing the origin of vessel and sleep? as in, vessel was in “a waking hell” (reality/earth) before he shifted away from his previous life to believe in sleep (a ‘tired’ god)?

Hello there, Anon! This is a goooooooood one, let me roll my sleeves up for an answer-

This is a delicious perspective I have not considered before, however! I do believe he says "I'm a waking hell" there and I will explain later why, but for that I would have to leave the interpretation of the whole song here. And it will kinda mix the being in waking hell and being a waking hell, because I overdid it again. Apologies in advance.

For me, this song refers to the beginning of it all, to an event which was perhaps the final straw for the trilogy (or even the general idea of Sleep Token) to exist. There are parts of this song that feel like a reminiscence of a catalyst for the whole sleepy business and parts that describe the present, after Vessel got a taste of what the whole sleepy business is about. I'll try to explain that now!

I dream in phosphorescence Bleed through spaces See you drifting past the fog But no one told you where to go

We dive through crystal waters, perfect oceans But no one told me not to breathe And now the weightlessness recedes

Okay, for me, the first verse is him dreaming of the times before, of his Eden (a person, a "better" time in his life, whichever suits you). He bleeds through spaces (in the Dreamworld?) to see what he has lost and craves to come back to. But the dream turns into the moment it all went wrong, where they got lost/drowned. He comes back from the dream-turned-nightmare to the present with the chorus:

My, my, those eyes like fire I'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre Come now, bite through these wires I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher Grow back your sharpest teeth, you know my desire

(Oh god let me be feral about the chorus for a second here, ok. GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH, HOW CAN YOU WRITE POETRY LIKE THIS AND HAVE THE AUDACITY TO DELIVER THOSE LINES SO DELICIOUSLY. WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT. IT'S BEEN ALMOST 8 MONTHS AND I AM STILL EXPERIENCING EMOTIONS UNNOWN TO HUMANKIND WHEN I HEAR THIS- okay I am back to being normal now.)

He wakes up and remembers how cruel being under Sleep's influence is. That no matter what he dreams of (hello, The Apparition), he is always waking up to the reality, which is still terrible, despite Sleep's promises. The eyes (probably 6 of them huh) are Sleep's. Sleep continues to lure Vessel in, even when Vessel knows, after being with/serving/worshipping Sleep for quite some time now, that Sleep is going to be his downfall. But he stays, cause he has no better options, mayhaps?

And we're finally getting to the waking hell part which you've asked about!

He is in waking hell still, even if he thought he's going to escape from it. He knows he cannot/will not separate from Sleep now, but it's not like he's going to make Sleep's life easier with completely giving up. He:

isn't happy about the sleepy business (anymore);

has an attitude and WILL bite back;

will make his suffering everyone else's problem now.

Which brings me to the gods - in many interpretations I've seen, Sleep is an outcast in some sort of pantheon. He needed Vessel as much as Vessel needed him and together they are more powerful. Sleep helped Vessel in his lowest moment and Vessel, while gathering more and more worshippers, gave (and is still giving) Sleep enough power to make other gods' lives miserable as a revenge or something. Or just, you know, grow in power in general, it doesn't have to be a revenge. The other gods will be pissed off either way, because one thing all gods hate is other gods/entities growing in power.

The symbiosis with Sleep has worked for a while, but due to various reasons (Sleep getting too greedy, as gods do, not all Vessel's problems being magically fixed by Sleep's presence, miscommunication, different expectations, broken promises etc. etc.) Vessel started to rebel. He's in waking hell still (despite Sleep's promises that lured him in in the first place), so he will become one for the ones he can lash out on now (Sleep and the other gods). He embraced the become ungovernable meme. Isn't there a saying "hell is other people"? He took that literally. While he's awake, he is insufferable to all who he thinks is at fault for his current state now.

I will travel far beyond the path of reason Take me back to Eden

And he's happily going to continue to be insufferable to get what he wants (what Sleep has promised him when they've made their pact or whatever it is they did tbh), even if it's not reasonable to do so. He's beyond caring at this point.

And we're back to flashbacks, baby!

Well yeah, I spit blood when I wake up Sink porcelain stained, choking up brain matter and makeup Just two days since the mainframe went down and I'm still messed up Room feels like a meat freezer, I dangle in it like cold cuts Missed calls, answered phones from people I just don't trust Mirror talk, fake love But I'll take a pound of your flesh Before you take a piece of my paystub White roses, black doves, Godmother, rise up I need you to see me for what I have become

I really think this depicts the catalyst for going under Sleep's influence and the very moment they became entangled. Something happened (accident, death? and the aftermath of it, the lowest point, depression, becoming wary of people around him, aggression etc.) and that's when Sleep took an opportunity that would benefit them both (with the hidden agenda for later, of course). Now imagine the magical girl transformation with the roses and doves flying around and from Just Some Guy he becomes a Vessel and in the last moment of realisation of what he has done, he's crying out to the Godmother (whoever she may be!) that he's changed and probably irrevocably so.

Back to the present!

I guess it goes to show, does it not? That we've no idea what we've got until we lose it And no amount of love will keep it around If we don't choose it And I don't know what's got its teeth in me But I'm about to bite back in anger No amount of self-sought fury Will bring back the glory of innocence

He's realising that no matter what, he cannot turn the time back. Not even with Sleep's "help". He's not going to give up though, just for the sake of having something to do out of spite.

I have traveled far beyond the path of reason Take me back to Eden

Ok, with this one I am frankly not sure if it's "I have travelled" or just a repetition of the previous one. Can't hear it clearly and we don't have official lyrics (i am side eyeing Vessel so much rn). But. If it's "I will", it's just repeating of the things he'll do to piss the gods off. If it's "I have travelled", then maybe he's just confirming the past won't come back, even though he tried everything (has travelled far beyond the path of reason) or maybe he is still hoping the possibility to get back there physically, when everything was fine, and will fight for his Eden still. And not just out of spite.

[slasher-jax]

Don't Come Crying

Warnings: Gore, OC piece, robot!0C, FNAF, FNAF animatronic!OC, evil!OC, afton!OC, Ellie's twin sister!OC, evil twin!OC Type: Songfic Fandom: FNAF|slasher_jax Commission: Nope! This came from my own fucked up little mind A/N: Yea idk, don't ask. My oc Winifred "Winnie" Afton, everyone!

Song:

Winnie never had clean hands. Maybe it was because of her fathers psychotic-ness, maybe it was because of her mothers neglect. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she had her own sick desires. Maybe she got this weird tingly feeling in her gut when her knife plunges into the chest of a body. Adult, child, it didn't matter, as long as it was human, she was satisfied for a while. Her father loved her the most, just because she shared his same sick desires. Her mother, however, hated them. Her mother preferred her twin sister, Elizabeth. She was always the little sweet heart, given the utmost care while Winnnie sat idly next to her. She was the unwanted twin it felt like most of the time. The black sheep, the evil one. It used to hurt her, when her mother would turn her back on her. Turning down her bone necklaces for Ellie's flower crowns. She never understood it. The flower crowns were so fragile, but the bones, the bones would last a near lifetime. She would paint horrifyingly gorey pictures that not even their older brother Micheal enjoyed. She eventually gave up on her mother, and began basking in the sweet sweet attention of her father. The man who wore the bone jewelry she made him, the man who appreciated her gorey drawings, the man who fed her hunger, the man behind the slaughter. William Afton, her father. She was obsessed with being like him, She started dressing like him, acting like him, and even cut and dyed her hair too to look like his. After a while, she got a little too crazy. She was beginning to think for herself. She was acting a lot less planned out, and more sporadically. William was beginning to loose control of his prized daughter. In a last ditch effort to keep her under control for the rest of the horrify duo's existence, he had her help him design a robot. Winnie, now a teen, thought nothing of this, figuring her father was just running out of ideas. After designing and helping create the suit, Winnie, was killed. William killed the light of his life, his favorite. He then trapped Winnie's body in the very suit they designed and built together, hoping that her soul would transfer over. And it did, but she was more malevolent then ever. She remembered what happened, much to Williams dismay, however she said that she held no grudge against him. She lied... Eventually she got her revenge on her back stabbing father, let's all see what happened on that fateful night. The night in which, the man behind the slaughter was killed. The night in which Winnie got her delicious revenge.

Winnie walked slowly through the attractions, her heavy footsteps leaving everyone cowering in fear. The new night guard had overstayed his welcome. He had managed to stay out of trouble for four nights, but he wouldn't get past this final night, Winnie would make sure of it. Elizabeth had been toying with him, not fearing her father or her sister. Ellie thought she would've had him killed by last night. But she failed to get him into the scooper room, therefore, Winnie and their father were called in to take care of him.

Winnie acted as an attraction the whole day, only stopping to lure a few people, kids specifically, to a different room for her father to kill or restrain. After the long day was finally over, she went down into the underground with the rest of the animatronics. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their stages, keeping an eye about until the night guard came, knowing how unpredictable Winnie is and can be. Winnie stood silently next to Elizabeth, staring forwards into the room the unsuspecting night guard would be in soon, staring menacingly.

Everyone else were sitting in their places quietly, even her mother. Mrs. Afton stood on her stage, knowing better than to disobey her youngest daughter. She had became a monster since her father began enabling her.. quirks. Everyone held their breath when they heard Winnie's undeniable scream of pain as she received a control shock. Music began as Winnie's scream slowly came to an end, the sound coming from Winnie and Ellie's stage. The lights around there began flicking on as the clowns and rabbit was revealed, the clown with red and white as the it's main colors, and the rabbit with purple and black as the main colors.

"Hey, hey, now, everyone! We have a new guest." Winnie began, moving like she had done all day, moving the mic to her robots teeth that moved up and down, imitating her singing.

The nightguard nodded slightly, walking away, the song echoing off all of the walls as it began raining outside. The rain began pelting against the windows, lightening cracking, and thunder shaking the entire place.

"There goes another one that I put to rest. Here in the underground, I have to confess, there's no place, no-o-ohh, quite this dark, noh-o-oh." Winnie's voice began getting louder and creepier. As the nightguard slowly began making his way through to the room with Funtime Freddy and BonBon. (spare me, I haven't played Sister Location yet). Winnie dislodged her feet from the stage, slowly following him by the vent, making her voice rattle off the sides of the vent.

"But I'll be here with you, along for the ride. Where nightmare's are all real, so try not to cry." Winnie danced along the wall as the guard stood, noticing her. "Okay, I take it back, I really don't mind, no escaper, no-o-oh, from your fate, no-o-oh." Winnie began taking steps towards him. He quickly turned and ran, locking himself into the room Winnie came out of, Circus Baby's stage. Winnie followed him in, pushing the door open just as Ellie tried to hide him. "Makes you, wonder, doesn't it, which one of us oposites is the weak baby here, I think, it's pretty clear." Winnie said, grabbing Ellie's arm and slinging her to the other side of the room. The music slowly cut out and the lights cut off as the guard cut them off, thinking it would make Winnie stop.

Winnie growled, a rare noise from a robotic rabbit, not so rare for a malevolent soul. Winnie slowly made her way up, shifting down to her soul form. She walked up the steps, her now smaller form making less noise than the large robotic rabbit one. Winnie yelled in anger as she made her way up, seeing the trail of blood and already knowing William had gotten to the guard before her. She also noticed a disregarded bloody kitchen knife that she picked up, the reminder of what her own father done to her reappearing in her head as she made her way down the hall to the side room. She busted into the side room and threw the knife she was holding at William, blood immediately spewing from his arm.

"W-Winnie?! Why?!" William yelled in anger and pain as the, now lifeless, nightguard lied mangled and blood on the floor between them.

"Oh, you thought, that you could control me? You can cry, but you listen closely." Winnie sung, stepping closer and closer, snagging another knife from the bloody tool belt that was around their waist when she died. "Father, I'm sorry, I'M NOT SORRY!" Winnie grinned like a maniac as her voice turned demonic and creepy, her horns popping up from her hair causing more blood to run from her head and down her face as she jumped on top of William, stabbing him relentlessly.

That was the last known clip of the girl named Winifred Iris Afton, or more commonly known as Winnie by her father and siblings. Her father, William Vincent Afton, was later found to have murdered five children on the evening of June 26, 1985, and later went on to murder his fifteen year old daughter Winnie. His body was found at 7:15 on July 17, 1998 with several stab wounds and bite marks, which were later compared to dental records and showed perfect resemblance to Winifred's last known dental exam. This clip was found mere hours after the police search began causing questions to rise in the media. Is Winnie really dead? If so, then who killed William Afton? And if not, then where will she strike next? The only things that were amiss in the underground storage area, aside from the dead bodies of 28 year old Micheal Afton, and 54 year old William Afton, was the disappearance of the beloved black and purple rabbit animatronic, Raven Inkwell. Later investigations showed a trail of blood leading out of some sort of escape hatch. The trail was followed to an old beat down Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The place was also thoroughly checked, but the trail of blood was gone, and no sign that Raven or Winifred were ever there.

Taglist: @zeroisreallygood @th3-r4t-48 @puppet200

[fireflykaizoku]

Vampire!Kid x Reader | Red Eyes

i started writing this for halloween, so let's pretend it's still halloween pls thank you! i also thought this would be a multichapter, but let's be honest: i often forget to update the multichapter fics. i may post some special chapters

You came from a family of vampire hunters. So ever since you were a child, you remember seeing your parents, sometimes even your grandparents, go out for long travels to hunt those “awful and vile creatures”, as they said. The feeling was mutual, naturally. Vampires hated you and all the hunters.

Your family held a long time grudge for them due the fact that decades ago, a vampire turned a family friend into one of them. They wanted revenge, and finding the creature that took your friend wasn’t enough for them, and it wasn’t enough for you either.

So that’s how you lived your whole life until now, having an aversion for vampires, and it felt like it was your duty to keep the “family business” and hunt as many as you could. So when you turned fifteen, you started to hunt with your family as well. 

Honestly, and you didn’t really want to brag, you became one of the best at your job. You knew you wouldn’t rest until you exterminated each vampire that crossed your path. 

While some of them used to fear you, one of them mocked you. He was sarcastic and annoying. Your encounters always turned into a fight and a cat and mouse chase, and whenever you met for another battle, it was hard to tell if both of you lost or if both of you won.

The fights were always cut short, because of course, the vampire with red eyes and pale skin was powerful, but the sun was still one of his weaknesses. 

So you both always left with the promise of a rematch. The two of you were equally strong and smart, that explains why there was never a winner.

But how come the two ended up here, so close to the creature you used to hate? The first time you were so close to him was during one of the battles, you were challenging each other, mocking each other even. Eustass Kid, the strongest vampire you’ve ever met, found amusing and admired how you didn’t fear him.

You were the first vampire hunter that didn’t run as soon as you both met. Maybe that’s how it started, the mix of passion and hate; how exciting it was to challenge each other and the whole battle for power. Even though the crucifix around your neck made him feel uneasy and irritated, the redhead couldn’t help finding it amusing to be face to face with you.

Eustass Kid knew he had to conquer you.

And he did.

It took him a long time, but it was worth it. He became so irresistible, maybe because he was the first man, human or not, not to fear you. He challenged you.

And while Eustass Kid only wanted something physical, with hate and desire in the same proportion, the strongest vampire started to feel weird. To feel irritated without you and hate whenever you had to leave.

Your encounters happened very often, but suddenly you stopped meeting him. It had been a week, two… A month even, and Eustass got worried. What a joke, a vampire worried about a pathetic human.

His worries were confirmed after he found you. Kid looked everywhere for you, searching for information of your whereabouts. And when he finally found you, you were weak in bed. The vampire sat on the window, looking at you.

— Why haven’t you told me? — he asked as soon as you laid your eyes on him. — Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?

You rolled your eyes, making them hurt for a second.

— Hello to you too, Eustass. — the silence lasted so long. He was still waiting for your answer. — I didn’t want you to worry. But my situation isn’t the best. I assumed I’d just stop appearing and you’d… Forget about me.

— Great fucking job! And how did that work, huh? — he exclaimed. — Invite him to come in now.

Oh, yes. Sometimes you forgot he was still a vampire and had to be invited.

— Don’t you want to come in, please, Eustass Kid? — you asked.

The red haired vampire entered your room, sitting by your side on the bed without saying a word. He was analyzing your situation, seeing your fragile body.

— I can help you. — he started, making you raise an eyebrow. He knew many things, but for sure he wasn’t a doctor. — If you turn into a vampire, you…

Kid didn’t need to finish the sentence for you to reply right away. What an awful joke was that? 

— No! — you tried to say as loud as you could. — Are you insane? A vampire? Seriously, Kid? — you coughed.

— You’ll be able to live! — he got up, raising his voice. — Or you’d rather want to suffer to death?!

You coughed, covering your mouth with your hands, only to notice the small droplets of blood all over it. It was hard not to freak out at this point.

Fuck.

You were definitely getting worse.

— Yes. — it was all you could say, your voice sounded almost like a whisper at this point, unable to say a full sentence without feeling the air leave your lungs. — I’d rather…

Your stubbornness used to amuse Kid when things were funny and not a life or death situation, but now, when you were so sick and who knows what could happen to you, it started to piss him off. Even though you both used to be rivals, enemies even, trying to kill each other whenever you could, the redhead vampire couldn’t lie, he didn’t know what he’d do without you.

— I don’t want to turn into something… — you started, closing your eyes, feeling your chest hurt from taking a deep breath. — That I spent my life trying to kill. It’s against my morals.

— Your morals? — he mocked without even wanting to, it was just too ironic to talk about character and morals now. — With what we have? Seriously, do you think we can talk about morals?

You grunted, trying to move away from the vampire, but your body was too weak to even move. Kid sighed.

— Alright, do you really want to know why I want to do this? — he asked, walked around your room until he stopped, turning his back to you. He, the strongest vampire, wasn’t supposed to have any weakness or feelings, but there he was. — Because I’ll live forever, and knowing that I’ll have to live for the whole eternity without you makes me feel… Weird.

You widen your eyes, not expecting these words to leave his lips. It was the closest to a confession that you’ve ever got in all this time that you were together.

  — Weird… How? — your weak voice asked, not trying to get more romantic and cute words from him, but genuinely curious to know.

— It’s a weird sensation, alright? — Kid asked, already about to get defensive. — I don’t like it!

In other words, he’d miss you. He’d miss you so much, he’d hate to live so many years without your company. Your annoying company and your weak little human self.

Silence, awkward and long silence, dominated the room. Kid felt stupid and weak, while you felt surprised and started to think, and maybe you’d regret your choice. And if you did, you’d have to live forever with regret.

— Will it hurt? — you whispered, making him turn to look at you right away, with his eyes full of surprise.

He gulped. Kid tried to remember how he felt when he turned into a vampire, but it was so long ago. 

— I don’t know. — his answer was honest, just like he always was.

— Will you stay here with me? — you asked, making him nod. —Alright... Make it quick. Kid moved closer, sitting on the bed and pulling you into his lap. The movement your painful, after all, your body was still sensitive and in pain. Your lover was trying to get you as comfortable as possible. You closed your eyes shut and gulped, preparing yourself for the pain of the bite. Your mind was racing, wondering if it’d hurt or how it’d feel. Doubt crossed your mind at some point, but you had no choice now. For some reason, you didn’t want to die now.

Maybe Kid was right, turning into a vampire was better than death. Maybe being with him for the rest of your life was better than death.

Kid’s rough hands tried to be as gentle as possible while caressing your neck, finding the perfect spot. He moved even closer, feeling the delicious smell of your flesh, making you shiver. His tongue found your neck, licking the right spot before placing a kiss. The redhead was too tempted. Your smell and the taste of your soft skin were making him lose control. But he obviously couldn’t drink too much of your blood. 

After all, you weren’t his prey, you were his lover.

Trying to be as careful as he could, the vampire sunk his teeth into your soft skin. Surprisingly, the vampire bite didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. However, the transformation wasn’t as magical as you assumed it’d be.

It felt like you could hear everything, even a low noise from far away, and it felt like something weird was running through your veins and the foreign sensation was making your stomach do backflips. Your eyes got more sensitive to the lights, and you could feel the slight fangs growing. You closed your eyes shut, trying to make the feeling go away.

While you were trying to get used to the sensation, Kid held you. His strong arms reassured you, letting you know you weren’t going through this alone. It felt like forever, when you opened your eyes, that turned into a bright shade of red now, just like his.

— So, what do we do now? — your still weak voice asked, looking at your lover with big curious eyes. —  Do we turn into bats and just fly around scaring people? — you giggled, yawning, as if your body got too tired, trying to still recover.

Kid clicked his tongue and sighed. Looking at the window, the first rays of light were about to invade the room through the curtains. 

— You’re very funny to someone who was almost dying. — he paused, getting up and taking you in his arms.

The vampire made his way to the coffin bed made of dark brown mahogany wood and burgundy insides. It was still small, after all, even after all these years, Eustass never expected to have someone sleeping by his side. Maybe he’d need a bigger bed eventually.

He gently placed you inside, entering and making himself comfortable soon after.

— First, you need to rest, brat. — he whispered, placing an unusual soft kiss on your forehead. A quite out of character attitude of his, but he couldn’t help it. All he could feel right now was relief to know you were okay. 

You smiled, closing your eyes.

— For the whole eternity sounds like a long time now, right, Eustass? — it was the last thing you remember before feeling your body almost drifting into a calm sleep.

[ladycry19]

Villain AU ramble.

Im not fully caught up with mango yet but based on what I've seen ima write my thoughts on where Morgan is through the final fight.

I think she ends up getting pushed with Toga. This may be subject to change the more I catch up with the mango. Either way, she's separated from Tomura but that's fine, they've got important matters to tend to.

Background: Oboro and Morgan are childhood friends. That stays the same in both villain AU and Canon. Shes dropped out of UA after their first year, so she isn't around when he actually dies, but she does hear about it, and it tore her apart. She goes to his funeral and everything, and it all just Makes her hate the hero system more now that it has rejected her and killed her best friend.

But she has NO idea about Kurogiri. After the PLF attack, Morgan gets arrested. since her, Aizawa, and Mic all were in the same class together in their first year, the police ask them to help interrogate her, hoping they can get her to talk. But she refuses, and if anything she says spiteful and mean things at them.

After some time, Aizawa tells her about Kurogiri. About how he's a Nomu, with Oboro, their friend, her childhood friend, is the base for the the Nomu, created by Garaki and AFO

And Morgan is distraught and disgusted and horrified. Horrified that her dear friend couldn't rest properly, horrified that she's been WITH him this whole time, and she never knew...

It tears her apart, and she spirals. But eventually Tomura saves her from police custody, and she focuses on the matter at hand, Helping and support Tomura.

So back the current fight, when Kurogiri suddenly appears, he asks Toga what she wants, and he asks Morgan what she wants.

As soon as she sees him, she feels that disgust and horrid feeling come back, and she remembers everything Aizawa told her.

She KNOWS she should ask to be taken to Tomura. She should be supporting him, by his side and helping him in the fight... She should be helping her friends in their fights, helping Toga.

But instead, she let's her anguish and despair and desire for revenge choose for her.

"Take me to Garaki." She says instead. To everyone it seems like she plans on rescuing the good doctor. Even Kurogiri doesn't question it.

And when she appears, the doctor is all smiles and joy and he's like "Morgan, my dear! Come to save me? Did AFO send you? How kind of you guys to think of me during your big fight."

And she doesn't say anything to him, but she has this look of utter malice in her eyes. As soon as she sees the good doctor, she attacks him and just starts stabbing him, multiple times, harshly, practically torturing the man and k!lling him slow and in the most painful way possible.

For Kurogiri. For Oboro. Her dear best friend who couldn't rest properly because of Garaki.

[darkpoisonouslove]

I said I was going to talk about Fallen Love and I will. Mainly because Valtor's mental state during chapter 3 is thoroughly fascinating.

He has just achieved all of his goals - freedom from the Ancestral Witches, destroying his enemies (aka the Company of Light) and getting Griffin back. The high of that victory is undeniable; he's completely drunk on the rush of power and the security of finally being in control of himself. Having Griffin match him in his excitement and eagerness over their reunion only makes it all the more heady. He's on top of the world and she's finally back at his side where she belongs. Everything is right with his world; he's gotten all he wants (though there's always room for improvement once he's finished celebrating his current success). And then...

He wakes up the next morning with Griffin in his arms and he's completely mesmerized. To the point where it scares him how hard it is to think about anything else. He is free for the first time in his entire life. He has worked for this moment, has craved it so badly for centuries and now that it's finally here... It's completely overshadowed by his desire, his need for the woman that betrayed him and joined his enemies. It instantly sours his mood but what's more terrifying is that even that doesn't make it easier to tear himself away from her.

He could be anywhere right now, working only towards his own goals for the first time since he was created and he cannot be bothered to think about anything that's not her. In fact, all he wants is to stay in bed with her and make sure neither one of them remembers those three years they spent separated, that neither of them remembers there was ever a time when they weren't together. It's like his whole drive and ambition has completely crumbled at the sight of her in his reach. It's positively terrifying.

He manages to force himself out of the palace but before he can get anything done, he's compelled to return by Raina's meltdown over the destruction Griffin has caused to her palace and the threat she poses to the security of her Very Special device. And this is Fine; it's a little bit of revenge even when Griffin got to feel for herself what it was like for him to find her gone when he expected to see her where he'd left her. Her desperation to bring him back is reassuring - she matches him in her need for them to be together and he can use that to his advantage.

It's all well and good until Griffin tries to vanish on him again, testing him as if he's the one that has to prove something, as if he's not completely justified in feeling some vindication at her reaction. He deserves emotional compensation for the years that she was on the side of his enemies and fought against him. She should be remorseful and apologetic instead of trying to get under his skin, get a raise out of him just to make herself feel better for what is totally righteous retribution.

It only gets worse when her jealousy starts to rear its head. Because THAT was never a part of Valtor's plans. It's an insult to him that Griffin would doubt his feelings for her and his devotion after she was the one who left him, betrayed him only to join people that were beneath her and hated both of them. He absolutely doesn't think that she has the right to be mad at him about anything he's done since she left him, especially when she's wildly misinterpreting his intentions.

He never meant to replace her with Raina. He only wanted her to see how he sees her alliance with the Company - like the waste of time that it was, like the insult that it was to the relationship between the two of them. That is sacred and he was aiming exactly to make her realize that through the anger he knew his alliance with Raina would spark in her. It was meant to make her open her eyes and come back to him, not doubt his feelings for her in any capacity. Raina is nothing to him despite the plans and agendas he might share with her - just like the Company should have been nothing to Griffin. He was simply demonstrating how getting others involved in the relations between the two of them demeans them both and the sanctity of their bond. And Griffin went completely off the rails but not in the direction he had predicted. Her refusing his offer to be partners again is just the cherry on top of a huge, tall cake of offenses against him.

[knownangels]

rot

wc: 6.8k

He thinks that maybe Dunwall is a place built on grief. One quick glance into the pages of its history is marred with plague, with suffering, with tragedy and loss and horror and subjugation and hate. It must be built upon the bones of something ancient and angry; or worse, exhausted. 

Maran teases when he insists all of this one evening, when they’ve broken into his father’s liquor cabinet and sit together, alcohol-leaden and curved backs slumped together. Maran leans over more, draping himself over Benji’s shoulder. His prickly scalp scrapes against his cheek, and it’s about as comforting and familiar a texture as he’s ever known. 

Perhaps the last swig had been one too many, though. 

“The whales,” Maran repeats, a sullen and soulful impression of Benji, his deeper tone. “Mar, the whales.” He giggles high and mad, hiccups at the end. “Whale revenge.”

Benji scowls, although Maran can’t see it, and plants his feet to push back against his best friend’s weight. He’s liquid in his limbs, though, and accomplishes little more than toppling them both in a laughing heap to the ground. The upending of the world makes his head spin, and when his doubled vision shimmies back into something he can parse, something whole and relatively steady, they’re shoulder-to-shoulder and gazing up at the sky. 

The garden is cool and quiet this time of year, buds opening to blossoms with every slow-creep day of warmth. Soon, everything will burst forth. Soon, the color and smell of new life. 

Despite that, beyond the yard and far walls, the bustle and toil and stench of the city remains. For all potential of goodness, the beauty and loveliness that might happen within the confines of the city, it still is there. It still lingers. 

Benji wonders how long things linger. Like poison. 

“I’m not saying it were them,” Benji slurs in a way that only a handful of people in his life can parse. Maran is, fortunately, one of them. “M’saying s’another thing. The whales. But another fuckin’ thing.” 

“You drank too much.” Maran points out, though his words mush together just as sloppy. “Leave ‘em out of your fuckin’…your melodrama. What’d they do?”

“Nothin’ but get ev- eve—eviscerated.” 

“Evi—Eviscerated?” Maran pushes himself to his elbows. When he leans over Benji, he obscures the stars and the moon. HIs eyes gleam, liquid and syrupy as off it as he is. “Fuck’s sake, man. You are sloshed.”

“Wiped out!” Benji insists. “Gone. What’s left, anyway? Shoulda left the oil where it was, in ‘em — now we’ve got it in the land and the water and the lungs. Y’know people are gettin’ sick? N’it’s all worry about the plague come back. Ery’body old’s wringin’ their hands.” Benji blinks. “Dunwall’s fucked. Not just the whales.” 

Maran laughs again. It sounds less humored. More concerned, a little higher in his head. “You’ve got to get a grip, mate.” 

But Benji has seen what comes from the desire for a fist around something, even if that something is one’s own mind. He’d rather it unspool and worry and panic than keep himself properly contained. So few people talk about the struggles of the city in the way they sometimes do, when off a few glasses. Like a tattered, tragic history, suffering is a staple of Dunwall. A simple fact of reality. As unavoidable as the seasons, as the river’s currents, as the month of harvest. Nobody talks about why. 

Benji thinks there’s a reason. He isn’t afraid to share it: 

*

Dunwall is a thing rotted. To the quick, to the core. 

And he doesn’t just say that now, because he’s stood in a line slowly shuffling. Each quiet occasional (never quick enough) shhhf of boots on tile is a machination of bureaucracy; that, to him, is just as evil as eviscerating an entire species. 

Slightly less evil than the price he’s got to pay just for a copy of a piece of bloody paper to be put in his waiting hand — but only very slightly. 

“That’s it, then?” He asks, staring down at the parchment. It’s got a neat roll of twine, an official shiny red wax stamp of the Empire’s symbol embossed.

“That’s what?” 

He glances up at the official, seated on the other side of the window in a little clerk’s station. She’s old, but not ancient, with golden spectacles perched on her upturned nose and smile lines around her pursed, bored mouth.

“I mean —” Benji lets out a laugh, although it’s more huff than anything amused. Air in, air out.  His hair messes beneath a clammy palm; they keep this particular government office so warm it’s stuffy. “Fuck. Oh, sorry — I mean, fuck.” 

“Have I given you the wrong document?” She leans forward in her seat, peering back at him from behind glass so clean it’s nearly invisible. A long finger taps at the desk her side of the window, near the shiny metal slope beneath that allows them to pass things back and forth. “I’ll gladly check, but I’m sure that’s the correct one. The deed? I’ll check, but it’ll cost another two hundred to have it resealed.”

His eyebrows hitch. “Two — no. No, it’s right. Sorry. I just, it’s a big deal, isn’t it?”

The woman looks at him for a moment, then casts a glance over either shoulder. Then she leans forward until her breath softly fogs the glass. 

“You’re holding the line up for me, lovey, but this bit—” she taps the desk, finger pushed into the groove where the rolled parchment has just been passed to him. “It’s been the talk of the office this week, do you know that? Good bit of land you’ve got, abouts Poolwick even? That market’s been nasty for decades, so few of us were privately — privately, love, it don’t bear repeating— excited to see it given back to family. Whatever strings you managed to yank to have this done, well. They must have been more ropes, yeah? You’re entitled to enjoy it.”

He beams at her properly now, unable to help the expression from slipping forth. “I intend to.” 

She points a slim finger at him. Perhaps fighting a smile of her own: “And you keep it out of the hands of those industry beasts, you hear me? Won’t hear nothin’ about another factory being built on that pretty lake.” 

Benji has no plans to build a factory, and assures her as such. He’d like to return his family there. He’d like to invite another family to join, and Maran, and maybe whoever Maran would like to invite, and maybe — well. He has time to figure the specifics out. 

*

Only when he’s back in Maran’s room at the estate does he fully accept the reality of what he’s just managed to do. The clerk had no way of knowing how right she’d been, with that off-handed remark about pulled strings. The paper, wrinkled now from being excitedly clutched in his fist the whole trip back, holds more than just a bequeathed acreage sold to the empire several generations back. It’s years of work, of saving every single coin he could find, of picking labor shifts after a day guarding, of meetings and letters and delayed appearances before magistrates and solicitors. 

The latter of which he only managed to successfully hire as representation for this goal (to sort the language of the law, something he’s never had neither desire nor respect nor time to pick apart) is Maran’s father. So, the man’s grandiose office of mahogany and golden trinkets and shiny lacquered imported trim should really have been his first stop. 

Gabriel, as only Benji’s internal thoughts flippantly refer to him, is sat at the massive desk when the guards usher him inside. He knows firsthand how heavy that piece of furniture is — on more than one occasion, the duke had insisted someone “help” move it to catch light when his manic whims decided the sun was necessary to accomplish his day’s tasks. Or, task. Benji has only ever seen the man judging with hands tucked behind his back. Or signing a document. Or flipping a coin between his slim, tan fingers. 

Benji knows this man hails from the western shore of Serkonos. Maran’s mother — the thought of whom pains him — from the east side of the island. Both had been pushed from these places with the northern islands’ settlement, vacationing elites, and Gristol’s upperclass. He thinks this is the reason the man had any interest in helping Benji secure his own family’s land once more. He knows it is the reason for Gabriel’s iron grip on Dunwall politics, his cultish drive for possession; for more and better and greater than what had been taken from his own lineage. He’d known power and prestige, had it taken. 

Maran has his will. His stubborn, spiteful sense of accomplishment without the ugly tarnish of ambition. Benji hopes he stays that way. Benji wants to help him stay that way. 

“It all worked out, then.” Gabriel says, even before Benji has taken the paper from behind his back and relaxed his dutiful, respectfully tucked pose. He makes himself smaller in the presence of this man — not because he’s scared for his own safety, but because Benji knows hate. He knew it far longer than before he’d met Maran’s father. And yet it had been Gabriel, his cruel and authoritarian reign on his own family, who made Benji understand hate. 

Benji had been just eight the first time he witnessed one of the old bastard’s punishments. Just twelve when he realized: a father was not always the man who tucked the blankets to your chin, who retold an exciting bedtime adventure story with new details each time it was spun, who gently kissed your mother’s fever-hot forehead before tying an apron around his waist and happily undertook both share’s responsibilities of the house during the week she rested. 

“In the end.” Benji says. He slides the paper across Gabriel’s desk. Although it hurts to watch, although he’d like to have the honors, although it’s his family and their acreage, he allows that wax seal to be broken by the duke’s thumb. He knows what Gabriel wants — what he expects. Benji will work the land back to baseline and then, because it’s a lovely plot in a good location near a burgeoning neighborhood of Poolwick’s growing enterprises, and because Benji has so far only ever been a grateful, loyal boy who follows the rules, Benji will sign over the property.

But Benji is only a loyal, rule following boy with certain eyes on him. And for certain strings to have pulled, ropes to be hefted, money to be made, his deal to be closed….Benji had moved outside the range of vision. It had required a path outside the constraints of legality and politics and respectful citizenship. 

Benji had lied. Often. Benji took dubious jobs requiring hired muscle to move in the little hours of the night. Benji had smuggled, and stolen shipments of weapons, and rooted himself into some of the deepest, most rotted-through parts of Dunwall. And some of it, he had enjoyed. 

The trickery the most. 

So he smiles when he watches Gabriel unfurl the piece of paper. He thinks only of his plans for that land, and the look on the man’s face — far in the future — when Benji denies him the luxury of a purchase. Getting one over on this bastard will feel so good.

*

He keeps the secret for months. He’s saving it for a specific, special day. One that is always warm and golden in the height of summer. It’s one of his favorite days of the entire year, and for the past ten, he has never spent it alone. 

Until now. 

Gabriel has plans to open a resort in the hills above Karnaca, a sprawling vacation estate in which he can conduct business during the warmer months, when Gristol is even morewet and depressing than usual. Benji suspects it’s also being constructed as a destination to which he can send potential allies and partners. Only those, of course, with sway both social and material. Guests who will, by coercive wooing or outright threat, ingratiate themselves into a one-sided deal with a clear favor.

In true ruthless fashion, he’s offered hefty bonuses and leave to any of the current estate staff willing to travel for the summer and help see the Karnaca grounds is developed to specific, strict standard. Few of those who have this offer extended, including Xavier, decline it. It will put a sea between them for far longer than Benji is ever wiling to part from him, but —

“It’s fine. It’s fine. It will be fine.” 

Warm hands clutch his cheeks. Xavier holds his laughing form in place while an absolute barrage of kisses are sundered over his face. There are wet tear tracks there, because despite the words, it will be the longest they’ve spent apart in years. 

“It’s not fine.” Xavier says, rapid-fire between each of Benji’s assertions. “I’m going to wither away and die. I need to get these in —” he interrupts himself to smack a few more loud, wet kisses to Benji’s mouth. He squirms half-heartedly, squeezing Xavier’s ribs and shaking him as if this isn’t exactly where he wants to be.

“It’ll be good money.” Benji assures him, because that — it will be great money — is one of his few comforts. He wish he could say in addition to Xavier’s guaranteed safety, traveling in such a large and affluent group with familiar faces from the estate who care for him nearly as much as Benji himself. But nothing is assured in the isles but suffering and the need for money. 

Fuck’s sake, he’s been in Dunwall too long. Maran is right about the melodrama, although he’ll die before he admits that.

*

They spend the week before Xavier’s departure largely in bed, of course. But also in their favorite places. Their chosen pub in the Financial District that boasts a chunk taken from the southern wall, weathered by age and rumored to be from the age of the last dynasty. Xavier, secretly, is a great fan of that particular tale; its romance and intrigue, its stalwart yet compassionate empress, and Dunwall’s victory over plague. 

Xavier is hopeful like that. Benji is reminded of this again and again as they travel between their familiar roosts. The pub, the park, a botanical garden, an occult shop that serves as both an exhilarating terror to Xavier but unignorable temptation to his curiosity. They hold hands as they walk, or hook elbows together, or otherwise touch in ways previously deemed too intimate for public. 

Xavier is hopeful, but when Benji is tugged laughingly down an alley for kissing (different, of course, then two warm palms slid together and must be private), he doesn’t feel that way at all. In fact, he feels quite the opposite. So stiff and panicked is he, even with Xavier in his arms and free with affection, that the kissing tapers off. The sweet, needy noises that he lives to hear slip into something questioning. Then, concerned. Benji doesn’t realize there are tears on his cheeks until fingertips touch to them, all the gentleness contained in his lover poured into that gesture. 

“What?” Xavier smooths a hand up his chest. It becomes a gentle, comforting pressure around the back of his neck

Their noses nudge together and Benji takes a shuddering breath. It does nothing to help the strange tightness in his chest, the vice clutch of unsourced panic crawling up his throat.

“I don’t know.” He admits in a whisper. He moves his hands from their lusty grip to a slim waist in favor of a more chaste embrace. It feels good, maybe even better in the moment, to be held that way instead. And he’s so grateful for this — Xavier’s understanding, his desire and compassion alike — that the tears start afresh. 

“Crying because I didn’t give you the last piece of taffy? Manipulative.” Xavier teases. They’re aside a busy street. The bustle of the crowd is a din of vendors and traveling merchants, out-of-towners and city natives alike. No one can hear them, but still Xavier pitches his pretty voice low. Just for Benji. Just for them. 

The sweetness gets to him. He’s properly crying about it all, now. 

“Shut up.” Benji rasps. His fists are locked in the back of Xavier’s jacket. “You like that shit better.”

“You like it better.” He argues, broad shoulders rounded and spine bent to put their faces together. He’s smiling. That wonderful, messy thing that flashes teeth whiter than any working class city boy has a right to have. Something like grief stabs strangely into Benji’s chest; he has no idea why, no knowledge of its source. He feels silly for it. There’s nothing darker there, nothing other than the vague looming he’ll be out of reach soon, a whole sea away. There’s nothing darker there, even though they stand on a paved Dunwall street, and there is always something darker, deeper, disgusting in Dunwall. 

So Benji lurches up to bring their mouths together, a quiet sort of sob lodged silent in his throat. 

This can’t be healthy, he thinks as they kiss and kiss, but he’s satisfied to find that another pair of hands clutch as desperately to him. And even when Xavier begins to make noise into his mouth, that fear in his chest stays tight and present. He can’t shake it. He chalks it up to the simple fact that they’ve never been apart this long. Not since they were young, not even for visits outside the city to family, on jobs, on other trips. 

He wants to say something romantic, then. Something like I’ll miss you or I’m going to be here waiting or Did you know the fee to have a marriage certificate officiated in Gristol courts is only a little bit cheaper than a whole fucking land title? 

Instead, he’s silent as they kiss again. It only lasts a few more seconds; sometimes, the way they come together feels too intimate even for this sort of tucked away privacy. 

*

Xavier spends his final day in Dunwall with his family, and takes his final meal in Dunwall with his family, and sleeps his final sleep in Dunwall with his family. Much later, in his bitter recollection of those twenty four hours, Benji will reflect on the irony of these facts: it is his final day, final meal, final sleep at all.

And at this realization not yet to be had, Benji will experience something new — aside grief, that is. In time, the rot he knows infects the city will creep from its resting place beneath the cobblestone streets he strides. The choking miasma of suffering and tragedy and loss and horror will twine from the soles of his feet up, traveling like poisoning of the blood. Inside to out, always to follow, always to be a part of him. 

One day, soon, Benji too will become victim to whatever lingering legend or curse has slithered into Dunwall’s being. 

He’ll be worse for it. He doesn’t know that yet, though. 

For now, sitting in the parlor with Maran, their shoes off and liquor once more uncorked in the absence of his father (gone ahead to Karnaca, as if he’d ever travel with the staff), all Benji knows is the sweet rush of alcohol.

“It’ll pass so quick.” Maran assures, not for the first time that evening. “And I’ll only have to deal with your moping for a season.” 

Benji offers him a loopy smile and raised middle finger in response. Then, just as quick as it flit to his face, the grin falters. 

“I—”

Maran groans loudly, fists pressed into his eyes as he tips his head back — and chair, so severely on its wobbling legs that only Benji’s heel hooked around one keeps him upright. “Don’t fuckin’ start! You kick off again and I’m in this state and then we’re both here weeping on the floor, worrying like hens.” 

Benji sniffles to contain himself, at least for Maran’s sake. “You’ve stressed yourself more worried about him than you are bein’ in charge of this absolute shitshow.”

Maran makes a face then. A contrite, bratty twist of his brow, a bullish and annoyed pull to his mouth. “Xavier’s more important than any of this.” 

Benji agrees. Benji scrubs his eyes with the back of his fist, and then opens his arms for Maran to crawl into. They fall asleep in the middle of the floor just like that. 

His back hurts in the morning when they see Xavier off at the docks.

He wheezes when Benji squeezes around his waist, holds them tight together. And even though he’s the one leaving, doing something new, it’s Xavier who rubs a firm, soothing pet up and down Benji’s spine to ease that sleeping position strain. 

Maran stands to the side, teasingly whistling and not making eye contact with the rare display of affection. 

“Bring me taffy,” Benji mumbles into his chest, uncaring for the rain-slick fabric beneath his cheek. He can’t say anything else dancing around his skull, and it feels a silly thing to settle on, but:

Xavier response is a hearty, sweet laugh. The rumble of it vibrates into him. He holds that feeling until the ship disappears over the horizon, across the sea. 

*

He wishes he could say that the moment it happens, he knows. That he feels it. That there is some deep and preternatural awareness that travels him, heart to veins to limbs and digits, of Xavier’s own steady beat. Of when it ends. 

But he doesn’t know. 

He isn’t there to see the flash of knife through the wind churning, ever constant currents, above Shindaerey Peak. He isn’t there to comfort the sting of it to Xavier’s cheeks, wet with tears and pale with fear. He isn’t there when blood pours between cracks of ancient stone to trickle down below, where the thin, corrupted veil separating the weak remnants of the void drink from the red rivulets. He isn’t there when the magic of the world sings anew, when a new entity is chosen, or when this age’s new cult discover there is no body to cart away into an accident scene worthy of covering their sacrifice — their crime.  Benji isn’t there for the crackle of ozone in the air. For the way the wind stops, just briefly; the way the turbines still, and the way a burst of energy sends a ripple of outages throughout Karnaca’s upper district.

But only for a moment. There is profit to be made, and so there are backup generators and staff to see that they’re kept in good maintenance because it’s power, after all, that runs it all. And it’s power that leads Xavier, sheep to slaughter, and it’s power that slides the knife through flesh that ought to be kissed lovingly, and it’s power that ensures control remains in the fists of those this choice benefits. 

Someone must be chosen, after all. It’s worked that way for as long as anyone can remember. Longer than the whales, the boy who came before, the one before that, the one before that. Even the deepest, oldest slate of the mountain itself forgets. 

Benji isn’t there in those final moments, doesn’t feel the moment it happens although he will wish he did, and he isn’t there to know that the truth of this is revealed to Xavier in his final seconds. 

What would you have become, if not this? Someone asks him, petting hair from his face as the blade descends. A dockworker, doomed to die of injuries at too young an age? A feeble, crippled thing with nothing to offer except burden? You’ll save us all this way, you know. The void is everything, holds us all in its cradle, and there must be someone to reign over its domain. 

Benji isn’t there to know that this simple city boy is told he’ll be more, this way. Worse — he isn’t there to assure him that all he had been, prior to his death and rebirth, was good and wonderful. 

Perfect, even.

*

The news comes in the form of a letter to the Wolffe family. It is Xavier’s eldest sister who brings the news to Benji. He will respect her forever for delivering it in person, rather than parchment, and suspects that the lack of tears in the moment are nothing more than a drought of them after an initial torrent. 

There is a month left to Xavier’s contract at the Karnaca estate. Per its terms, the remaining money due goes to his family. They have plenty to put it towards, the number of mouths in that home. 

One less, Benji thinks, and feels the threat of manic laughter so severe that he has to excuse himself immediately.

But, even as he withdraws to his quarters and locks the door and wedges a chair beneath the handle, the laughter never comes. In retrospect, he doesn’t recall what does: whether he cries or wails or tears chunks of his hair or mourns however gracefully or violently is lost to those initial few hours. They’re a blur of nothing when he reaches for them in his memories, and so he eventually stops trying. 

He remembers Maran’s grief well enough, anyway. 

*

Like his initial mourning, Benji can’t recall the first clue he had that something more foul than an unfortunate, reasonless tragedy had taken place. Surely at the instance that there was no body. Surely the quiet, guilty averted glances of the surviving staff that returned at the end of the summer. Surely it’s something. Surely there is a clue. 

He is unwilling to admit that it’s a gut feeling, that sense of suspicion. Because what does it say, that he holds within him some knowing of something terrible, something rotten having taken place— and not a knowing of the exact moment the most important life to him was snuffed out?

*

A little over a week after the remaining staff returns — and one month after Xavier’s death — Maran catches him in the estate’s east wing, leg slung over an open window ledge. 

Benji freezes and glances over his shoulder. They stare at each other for a long, long moment. 

“If you fucking toss yourself to the yard, I swear —”

Benji snorts, even though he has felt devoid of humor for so, so long. Devoid of anything but…well. Nothing, really. He’s only felt empty, and so the recent wash of rage and suspicion and paranoia had been welcoming. Like a warm, familiar embrace. 

“M’not killing myself, you arse-faced bastard.” He fires back, tugging the dark cloth from around his nose and mouth so Maran can better hear the insult.

Maran crosses the room in a few strides, bare feet padding across parquet without any thought to how loud he’s being. His skills of stealth and diversion are only so honed to the point of occasional sneak-outs and late night trysts off the estate require. Maran isn’t like him. Maran doesn’t know how unalike they have grown to become. And he might have his own suspicions, but Benji doubts they run as deep and vile as his own. 

As he’s enfolded in a tight hug, Benji imagines the rot of Dunwall creeps from him onto the edges of Maran’s soft sleep shirt. Stains it and the little thread of embroidered vines gracing its edge. 

He drops his head to Maran’s shoulder, squeezes his eyes shut, and then shoves his best friend away by the shoulders. 

It’s so strong and unexpected a motion that Maran doesn’t just stumble backwards; he trips toe to heel, arms pinwheeling, and falls on his hip with a loud, sharp cry. 

Hate me, he thinks. Hate me, hate me, hate me.

“What the fuck?” Maran hisses, maimed more to the heart than anything else. He stares up at Benji from his prostrate place on the floor, brows pinched in annoyance. Otherwise, his expression is nothing but wounded. 

“I’m going to Karnaca.” Benji blurts. He hadn’t meant to reveal anything. He’d meant to slip out, unseen. But — 

Maran gapes at him. He starts to gather himself, to get to his knees — and if he does, if he comes forward, if they touch again, Benji knows — Benji knows himself. 

“Benji —”

The stars no longer twinkle above the city skyline. Although luminous, they’re distant. They’re muffled by the smog and smoke and ever-flickering lights. When they were children, before oil was replaced by a new wave of technological innovation, the constellations could be easily picked out. Now…

“Finally sorted my shit. Bucked up enough this year. I was gonna—” He thinks about a piece of parchment crammed into a fireproof safe beneath the floorboards of his mother’s home. He has resigned himself, perhaps out of some sick sense of duty, never to step foot on that land. He can’t bring himself to walk it alone. “I told Saha and everything. Had a script. Made her read it, wanted to be sure it didn’t sound —” he chokes up then, clears his throat. “I was going to ask. I — I have to go.”

Maran has fallen silent. And Benji knows he shouldn’t, but he casts another look over his shoulder as he swings both legs out the window. Maran kneels, hands uselessly loose in his lap. His eyes are shiny with rapidly welling tears, and now Benji has to look away. 

“Please don’t, Benji. Please.” 

And that plea comes so, so close to enough. 

*

Benji’s determination is all that it takes to begin unweaving the underbelly of Dunwall’s shadier dealings. He grew up in the city, already aware of the shadows — but now he has reason to delve into them, reach in and pluck specifics. He has suspicions that need dragged into the light of day, and it’s only the fierce (perhaps mad) drive to accomplish this that allows him access to criminally-adjacent interworkings. 

When he catches the Rhoades girl around her slim throat, he has to temper how hard he shoves her against the ugly wallpaper. She’s a sleight thing, gracefully and fragile in that birdlike way some noblewomen tend. He doesn’t want to hurt innocents, no matter how intwined they are in this work. It’d be hypocritical. It’d be wrong.

(And still, he isn’t sure how long that line will remain uncrossed. He has to know.)

There’s nothing meek or caged about the way she angles her chin and clamps down on his wrist hard enough to draw blood. Benji clenches his jaw against the sharp pain, waiting for the bluff — and she cedes first, if only to make a disgusted face at the metallic taste on her tongue. Benji has never dealt with this broker of information before, in his occasional black market dealings, but she has a reputation. 

He spots the source of those rumors in the fierce, narrowed judgement aimed from her pretty eyes. 

“Name your —”

“I’ve no price you can match.” Benji interjects. He lets her go and steps back so that she can slump to the ground with at least a bit of dignity, but she doesn’t do more than wobble on long legs. A slim, well-manicured hand wraps around the flushed skin of her own neck, but that soothing touch is the only weakness from their encounter she displays. Benji is, begrudgingly, impressed. 

“If it’s blood you’re after just make it quick. And make sure to arrange me some way nice. There’s a chaise I like in the library — but I’m telling you now, if I’m not found dead and pretty, I’ll haunt you until you wish it’d been you.”

Alright, fine. He likes her.

“One of your little network’s agents is working for Giarrizzo-Cohn. She’s better at pretending to be a skilled maid than keeping secrets, bless her.” Benji holds his palm flat, even between them; she’s taller than him by several inches. “About here? Curly hair. From Tyvia, I think?” 

He’d tried to fuck someone from Tyvia, recently. Auburn hair (wrong shade). It had gone no further than a hand (wrong size) on his shoulder for Benji’s stomach to turn enough to make him flee. 

At the mention of Odette (and probably the cruel insinuation of her safety at stake), Matilda Rhoades’s face shifts entirely. The bravery fades into obvious concern, although the rage still simmers beneath the surface. 

“What do you want.” 

 Benji shrugs. “I’m headed to Serkonos. I need to know where Lethe holes up.” 

She snorts, which seems to him a very unladylike thing to do. And yet it makes him think of Saha and her freely given amusement; it’s a flash enough of recognition to soften him more. She’s dangerous, if not the way brutality is — but charm.

“Do you understand how very upset a broker of Lethe’s caliber will be if I give out information like that?” 

“So you know.” 

Matilda opens her mouth then closes it. “I just woke up. You pulled me from bed.” She squeezes her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose.

Benji raises his hand in cheeky apology. “Not at your best. Things slip.”

Matilda gestures towards a little folding desk in the corner of the room, and Benji goes to it — without turning his back. When he returns with a dull, sharpened-short pencil and notepad, she scribbles on it before tearing the paper and smacking it into his chest.

“There.” She waves her hand at the door. “Close it on your way out, you sad fucking goblin. And say hello to Maran for me, will you? He owes me gossip.” 

*

Benji makes the mistake of falling into fitful sleep on the ship over. Just one quick, short nap. One snap of his eyes shut. When he wakes, his pack is gone from between his ankles. He had tied the strap tight around one calf, and still the thief had managed to finesse it without waking him. If he were in a better state of mind, he might respect it. But he isn’t — and because he knows only one contact on the whole accursed isle, because the fears them, Benji winds up in a tavern with the only coin lining his pockets. He’d been traveling light, after all; he’d embarked on this trip with little thought as to where it would lead him, if anywhere but the grave, when it was over.

He can only face Lethe several drinks in. 

Until now, they have exchanged dealings through only written correspondence. The letters come coded; he takes them to Dr. Sullivan for a price. 

When Benji drops through the skylight into the messy studio, it seems that his arrival is expected. He had no idea what to expect of this strange and mysterious merchant of information. He is not expecting an artist, and he is not expecting the fantastical array of gore on canvases scattered about the room. Some of them span from floor to ceiling; others are no larger than his palm. All of them are stomach-churningly detailed, rendered with care, skill, and a suspiciously precise amount of detail. These are works with love in every brush stroke 

“Kitschy.” Benji comments into the darkness of the studio. “How much d’you budget for red pigment, I reckon?” 

“More than your life is worth.” 

Benji turns to the voice, which sounds to him as androgynous as its owner. Lethe, or the person he assumes has taken that moniker, steps from the shadows like a wisp, a phantom. They are as light as one; a blank canvas to be projected upon, to be painted by others. Benji is no painter. He has no idea which colors he’d used to begin to render them. In the low light, he sees only the glint of silvered skin and hair, and eyes a muddy ruby-red. 

“Rude. Haven’t done anything to you, have I?” 

Lethe spreads their arms, striding into the slice of moonlight. They seem to disappear, plains of a wide nose and full lips only visible in slight shadow. Anonymity makes sense, considering their — condition? He’s never met anyone that looks the way they do. 

“You broke into my studio.” The broker says, gesturing with one hand to their surroundings. “If you had good intentions, you’d visit the gallery like the rest of my patrons.” 

Lethe rounds the diameter of the moon’s spill. Benji mirrors it slowly, keeping them at the same distance. The hair on the back of his neck is standing on end. 

“What do you want?” 

“Just like that?” Benji fires back, masking twinging nerves with as much cheek as he can muster.

Lethe glances towards the wall behind him, and stupidly, he looks too. A clock ticks gently, both arms pointed upright. When he turns back, Lethe stands directly before him. He finds a step back impossible. It isn’t often Benji has felt…cornered. 

“It’s late.” Lethe correctly points out. “And I have a showing in the morning.” He must imagine that twitch of their mouth. “If you don’t mind.”

“I’m looking for someone.” Benji admits, and winces. He hopes not too much is betrayed there, in that look, because somehow it feels as though all of the pain he’s held onto since Tess visited  bleeds in. “Or, uh. I’m looking into what happened to someone.” 

*

The mystery unravels quickly, once Lethe pulls that initial thread for him. What he discovers in the subsequent weeks, is done in a period of depraved obsession that he spends either in a rented room, researching into the long hours of the night, or roaming Karnaca’s backstreets and hovels and paved streets in neighborhoods of wealth alike. The whole story is a bit more nefarious than the murder of one poor boy from Dunwall. And, if perhaps he had a bit of distance from the details, it would be downright horrifying. A cult intent on restoring controversially powerful magic — the weavings of the world — seems an awful children’s story. The sort meant to sway little ones onto the right side of morals, of society. 

A fantastical notion, in of itself. It’s a bit late for Benji anyway. He stops recognizing the face in the mirror. Soon, he’ll stop looking at all.

The first one — a proper cultist, judgment bequeathed by way of the myriad of writings in her office and the vast amounts of books on the void stacked in the adjoining library— happens to be one of Lethe’s many patrons. He’s expecting a shadowy cloaked figure. A beautiful witch, maybe. Someone kept forever young by dealings with the powers of the void. Someone more concerned with their own life than that of an innocent. 

She isn’t any of that. She’s a kind looking old woman with pictures of grandchildren in golden frames tacked to the wall and knots in her gray-touched hair. He suspects it’s because several of her fingers are curled towards her palm, gnarled by the touch of arthritis. It must make it hard to hold a brush, and the pride of her upbringing must make it difficult to ask for help. He discovers later that she was from Tyvia. Same town as Odette, it turns out — he wonders if she moved for the warmer air. Better for the joints, he’s heard.

When he corners her in her sprawling estate’s quaint study, she drives a knife tucked up her lacy sleeve into Benji’s side. He pulls it out with a grunt and pushes it through her heart. 

It certainly isn’t painless, but he makes it quick. It’s the only one of the subsequent six lives he takes that is. By the end of it, on the other side, Benji returns to Dunwall and wishes he had saved that mercy for himself. He’s only sick that first time, emptying his stomach in a back alley several blocks from the Tyvian elder’s estate. He’s only sick the once. That first life. He’s heard it before, and is only a little horrified to find it true: after one, the rest are easy. 

He thinks that maybe he was right, in the end. There is something rotten in the city. It corrupts, and it takes, and it kills, and it is horror. It is suffering, inescapable; and rather than fear it has seeped into him, Benji knows. Benji knows a lot, now. Namely, that there is something rotten in him. 

The worst of it is maybe the secret he keeps tucked closest to him, only to him. It isn’t one meant for brokers, or traded for coin. It is the sort of secret whose worth is more precious to him than any amount. Because it would do more than devastate Maran to know the role his own father had in a ritualistic sacrifice, one of his friends. It’s the kind of secret he can’t carry. It’s the kind of secret Benji can. Better the rot is shouldered by him than someone else. Someone innocent.

But then again, his mind winds to him late at night, curled and knees-tucked alone in a bed that had once barely fit two, what had innocence done for Xavier?

[jax-z-author]

Don't Come Crying

Winnie never had clean hands. Maybe it was because of her fathers psychotic-ness, maybe it was because of her mothers neglect. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because she had her own sick desires. Maybe she got this weird tingly feeling in her gut when her knife plunges into the chest of a body. Adult, child, it didn't matter, as long as it was human, she was satisfied for a while.Her father loved her the most, just because she shared his same sick desires. Her mother, however, hated them. Her mother preferred her twin sister, Elizabeth. She was always the little sweet heart, given the utmost care while Winnnie sat idly next to her. She was the unwanted twin it felt like most of the time. The black sheep, the evil one. It used to hurt her, when her mother would turn her back on her. Turning down her bone necklaces for Ellie's flower crowns. She never understood it. The flower crowns were so fragile, but the bones, the bones would last a near lifetime. She would paint horrifyingly gorey pictures that not even their older brother Micheal enjoyed. She eventually gave up on her mother, and began basking in the sweet sweet attention of her father. The man who wore the bone jewelry she made him, the man who appreciated her gorey drawings, the man who fed her hunger, the man behind the slaughter. William Afton, her father. She was obsessed with being like him, She started dressing like him, acting like him, and even cut and dyed her hair too to look like his.After a while, she got a little too crazy. She was beginning to think for herself. She was acting a lot less planned out, and more sporadically. William was beginning to loose control of his prized daughter. In a last ditch effort to keep her under control for the rest of the horrify duo's existence, he had her help him design a robot. Winnie, now a teen, thought nothing of this, figuring her father was just running out of ideas. After designing and helping create the suit, Winnie, was killed.William killed the light of his life, his favorite. He then trapped Winnie's body in the very suit they designed and built together, hoping that her soul would transfer over. And it did, but she was more malevolent then ever. She remembered what happened, much to Williams dismay, however she said that she held no grudge against him. She lied... Eventually she got her revenge on her back stabbing father, let's all see what happened on that fateful night. The night in which, the man behind the slaughter was killed. The night in which Winnie got her delicious revenge.

Winnie walked slowly through the attractions, her heavy footsteps leaving everyone cowering in fear. The new night guard had overstayed his welcome. He had managed to stay out of trouble for four nights, but he wouldn't get past this final night, Winnie would make sure of it. Elizabeth had been toying with him, not fearing her father or her sister. Ellie thought she would've had him killed by last night. But she failed to get him into the scooper room, therefore, Winnie and their father were called in to take care of him.

Winnie acted as an attraction the whole day, only stopping to lure a few people, kids specifically, to a different room for her father to kill or restrain. After the long day was finally over, she went down into the underground with the rest of the animatronics. Everyone was sitting on the edge of their stages, keeping an eye about until the night guard came, knowing how unpredictable Winnie is and can be. Winnie stood silently next to Elizabeth, staring forwards into the room the unsuspecting night guard would be in soon, staring menacingly.

Everyone else were sitting in their places quietly, even her mother. Mrs. Afton stood on her stage, knowing better than to disobey her youngest daughter. She had became a monster since her father began enabling her.. quirks. Everyone held their breath when they heard Winnie's undeniable scream of pain as she received a control shock. Music began as Winnie's scream slowly came to an end, the sound coming from Winnie and Ellie's stage. The lights around there began flicking on as the clowns and rabbit was revealed, the clown with red and white as the it's main colors, and the rabbit with purple and black as the main colors.

"Hey, hey, now, everyone! We have a new guest." Winnie began, moving like she had done all day, moving the mic to her robots teeth that moved up and down, imitating her singing.

The nightguard nodded slightly, walking away, the song echoing off all of the walls as it began raining outside. The rain began pelting against the windows, lightening cracking, and thunder shaking the entire place.

"There goes another one that I put to rest. Here in the underground, I have to confess, there's no place, no-o-ohh, quite this dark, noh-o-oh." Winnie's voice began getting louder and creepier. As the nightguard slowly began making his way through to the room with Funtime Freddy and BonBon. (spare me, I haven't played Sister Location yet). Winnie dislodged her feet from the stage, slowly following him by the vent, making her voice rattle off the sides of the vent.

"But I'll be here with you, along for the ride. Where nightmare's are all real, so try not to cry." Winnie danced along the wall as the guard stood, noticing her. "Okay, I take it back, I really don't mind, no escaper, no-o-oh, from your fate, no-o-oh." Winnie began taking steps towards him. He quickly turned and ran, locking himself into the room Winnie came out of, Circus Baby's stage. Winnie followed him in, pushing the door open just as Ellie tried to hide him. "Makes you, wonder, doesn't it, which one of us oposites is the weak baby here, I think, it's pretty clear." Winnie said, grabbing Ellie's arm and slinging her to the other side of the room. The music slowly cut out and the lights cut off as the guard cut them off, thinking it would make Winnie stop.

Winnie growled, a rare noise from a robotic rabbit, not so rare for a malevolent soul. Winnie slowly made her way up, shifting down to her soul form. She walked up the steps, her now smaller form making less noise than the large robotic rabbit one. Winnie yelled in anger as she made her way up, seeing the trail of blood and already knowing William had gotten to the guard before her. She also noticed a disregarded bloody kitchen knife that she picked up, the reminder of what her own father done to her reappearing in her head as she made her way down the hall to the side room. She busted into the side room and threw the knife she was holding at William, blood immediately spewing from his arm.

"W-Winnie?! Why?!" William yelled in anger and pain as the, now lifeless, nightguard lied mangled and blood on the floor between them.

"Oh, you thought, that you could control me? You can cry, but you listen closely." Winnie sung, stepping closer and closer, snagging another knife from the bloody tool belt that was around their waist when she died. "Father, I'm sorry, I'M NOT SORRY!" Winnie grinned like a maniac as her voice turned demonic and creepy, her horns popping up from her hair causing more blood to run from her head and down her face as she jumped on top of William, stabbing him relentlessly.

That was the last known clip of the girl named Winifred Iris Afton, or more commonly known as Winnie by her father and siblings. Her father, William Vincent Afton, was later found to have murdered five children on the evening of June 26, 1985, and later went on to murder his fifteen year old daughter Winnie. His body was found at 7:15 on July 17, 1998 with several stab wounds and bite marks, which were later compared to dental records and showed perfect resemblance to Winifred's last known dental exam. This clip was found mere hours after the police search began causing questions to rise in the media. Is Winnie really dead? If so, then who killed William Afton? And if not, then where will she strike next? The only things that were amiss in the underground storage area, aside from the dead bodies of 28 year old Micheal Afton, and 54 year old William Afton, was the disappearance of the beloved black and purple rabbit animatronic, Raven Inkwell. Later investigations showed a trail of blood leading out of some sort of escape hatch. The trail was followed to an old beat down Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The place was also thoroughly checked, but the trail of blood was gone, and no sign that Raven or Winifred were ever there.

[writersmilex]

Sour Connection

Murphy Pendelton X Fem | Reader

Summary: (Y/n) still continues to show herself in his life and he can’t understand why. Why doesn’t she leave him like everyone else has? Even when he is directly faced with the consequences of his misdeeds. (A/n): This story can be seen as a continuation of Bitter Revenge, but it’s not directly that.

______________________________________________________________

“You’ve got a visitor, Pendleton.” Officer Coleridge appears at the bars of his cell. Murphy’s eyes drop from the drawing on the corkboard and meet the Officer’s hopeful gaze. A visitor, that could only be one person… Without another word, Murphy stands up with a huff and reaches his hands out the open space in between the bars to get cuffed by the officer.

“You still have contact with someone?” The officer starts to make small talk with the prisoner. Murphy snorts, (Y/n) is still as stubborn as she used to be and is still trying to reach him. “Childhood friend…” Murphy replies to the officer, “She… won’t let go, never has.” Coleridge grins at the prisoner’s reply. “That means you mean something to her. She cares for you, and you should cherish that.” He smiles as the two reach the visitation ward. Once the two entered the ward, there was a separate space for each visit, Coleridge wordlessly directed Murphy to one space. Murphy swallows nervously, ready for a scolding from his friend. He doesn’t look at the other side of the wired glass until he sits down. Looking up, he finally looks up and makes eye contact with the only person willing to see him from outside, (Y/n). Her gaze is less scolding than he has assumed, but still stern. She looks more disappointed than mad or hateful. Her movement is smooth as she picks up the receiver from her side, moving it to her face without breaking eye contact. Murphy mirrors her movements, bringing the receiver from his side to his ear. “(Y/n)?” He calls her name quietly, but despite her facial expressions, he still prepares himself for a scolding.

"What have you done, Murphy?" She asks, desperate to understand his situation.

Murphy's feeling of nervousness sinks away, replaced with determination.

"What I have. to do…" His answer is cryptic, keeping his motives vague for both her and the officers monitoring him.

"No, you don't." (Y/n)'s gaze turns sorrowful, causing him to feel a pinch of hurt in his tormented heart. He is sure she is smart enough to come to the conclusion of his plans on her own, she knows everything that happened that led to this.

"Yes, I do." He argues, that his desire for revenge is greater. "He has to pay. People like him don't deserve to be coddled by prisons." he tries to reason, but by the look on her face, she doesn't seem to budge.

She lets out a deep disappointed sigh, "I kept your space on my sofa, you know." (Y/n) confesses to missing him. "I'm not giving up on you, Murphy…Please reconsider. I'll be waiting for you." She says, placing her hand on the glass. Murphy hesitates but returns the gesture, touched by her words.

"Time's up." An officer calls and the two are separated again. ~~~~ As she promised, (Y/n) didn’t give up on him. Showing up for visitation every week, and sometimes two days a week. And she even got gifts for him on his birthdays! For three whole years, this kept up. Murphy was sure that one day (Y/n) would eventually grow tired of waiting for him. That she'd just stop showing up and abandon him, but she didn't…

But she never left him throughout their history. Minimizing contact was his idea when he got married. She was never happy about that. But losing a few friends when getting engaged is a normal occurrence.

But now, she is almost all he has left. And he is growing paranoid. Murphy’s thoughts are scattered, unsure if what he is doing is the right thing. On one hand, he wants to get his revenge on the man who took his son’s life and subsequently his as well. And on the other, he wants to stay with (Y/n)... or at least to be able to go back to her and then stay with her. And in his wildest fantasies, maybe start over… Murphy opened up to Coleridge about the “mysterious lady-friend” as Coleridge puts it. He described her as a “long-time friend who has been there for him through thick and thin. And she is not letting him go, even now.” Officer Coleridge seemed pleased to hear this. “That friend of yours, (Y/n). You shouldn’t keep her waiting for any longer than necessary, right?” Coleridge speaks up while escorting Murphy to his cell. Murphy’s gaze remains downcast, he slightly regrets telling him (Y/n)’s name and now he won’t stop talking about her resulting in Murphy being unable to stop thinking about her.

“Such forgiving people as her are rare to come by. If you find one, you should keep them close.” Frank wisely states, Murphy cringes inside. He is drowning in conflicted thoughts and desires. ~~~~ Murphy has a journal in his cell to write down his thoughts, having your freedom taken away really does something to a person, and certainly when you have such a difficult situation as Murphy has. Every night just before lights out, he’d jot down his thoughts to keep them organized. Murphy eventually decides to go through with what he has planned from the start. Accepting Officer Sewell’s offer for help and getting to Napier, he is going to get what is coming to him for sure. He can’t help but wonder what (Y/n) would think of it. She understands why, but doesn’t know how, and not when either. She made a promise to him, would she live up to it? Surely, she is not one to break promises, even if it involves Murphy’s revenge fantasy coming to life.

Taking a seat at the side of his cot, Murphy pulls the dusty journal from under his pillow, along with a pen. Opening to an empty page to put his mind on paper for all to see. Dear, (Y/n) I’m still surprised that you’re around. You are really not letting go of me, are you? Typical (Y/n). Even when we worked at the cinema as rowdy teens you stood up for me even if it meant getting punished unjustly. And I admire you for that, how forgiving you are.

Would you still forgive me for what I’m about to do? I cannot rest until that monster gets what he deserves. I can't lose you either, you're all I have left, (Y/n). Please don't leave me…

Murphy's writing comes to a halt when a droplet falls on the paper, smudging the ink. He leans forward and rubs his face and lets out a heavy sigh. Emotions running high.

He can only ponder what is coming to bite him in the end, even if he can't go unpunished for the misdeeds that are yet to be committed.

~~3 weeks later~~

“What do you mean transferred?” (Y/n) asks the desk sergeant in astonishment. The officer lazily pushes his glasses up his crooked nose, “I’m sorry ma’am… But due to alternative events, the prisoner under the name, Murphy Pendleton is being transferred to a maximum security prison." He explains with boredom evident in his voice.

(Y/n) is desperate for more answers on what is happening to her friend. "Was there a riot or something?" She questions with her voice raised. She really doesn’t wish to make a scene, she wants to know what is becoming of her friend. "I'm afraid that's classified for you ma'am." The sergeant replies in the same monotone voice, only frustrating (Y/n) more. Surely, she is not the first to react like this if his reactions are so minimal.

To refrain from screaming, (Y/n) takes deep calming breaths and rubs her eyes. "Can you at least tell me where he is being transferred to? I'm his emergency contact." She asks with a much more controlled attitude.

The Sergeant's shoulders drop, finally relenting. "Fine, he and a group of inmates are being transferred to Wayside Maximum Security Penitentiary." He replies slowly. His eyes ghosted over the screen of his monitor. (Y/n) sighs, triumphant in her answer. Then (Y/n) doesn’t waste any more time, thanks the desk sergeant and leaves the premises to her car. In her car she takes a few deep breaths, Her friend is going to a maximum security prison, meaning that she can't visit him any more than she wants to. (Y/n) has to do her best not to cry, She has been trying so hard for Murphy, to be there for him as much as she can. But it’s getting difficult to do so the longer she is apart from him, separated by steel bars.

She leans her head against the back of the car seat, closing her eyes to calm down. She made a promise to him, and he’d be all alone if she left him now, and that is the last thing she’d wish upon him. No matter how hard it gets. Leaning forward again, (Y/n) turns on her GPS and types in the name of the penitentiary to make sure she knows where it is, then she can fill out the paperwork regarding being Murphy’s emergency contact. Hopefully, it is not too far from the previous prison. Whilst driving towards her desired location, (Y/n) can feel her mind reeling with unanswered questions and mysteries. What on earth happened in that prison that required Murphy to be transferred to Maximum Security? The desk sergeant did say anything, so her best assumption is that Murphy got involved in something, which doesn’t surprise her much with him being high on the desire for revenge, she had feared this all along. (Y/n) becomes a little distracted while thinking hard, not very safe if you’re driving in this growing fog. Just in time (Y/n) spots the large crevice that completely cuts off the road. startled by the road suddenly missing, she swirls her car off the road into the ditch, the vehicle tumbling down the hill and finally coming to a stop at its side at the bottom. ________________________________________ That’s quite a cliffhanger, isn’t it? The ending is terribly rushed, I know. But I think it highlights the separation between Murphy and the Reader's Character.Thank you for reading.-Smilex

[system-of-alya-story-blog]

Having a strong fixation on Zenos right about now so we absolutely need to write out our vauge ass headcanond of WoLs we've never made (yet? Maybe, we dislike the idea of doing ARR all over again) so we can actually be normal and have normal thoughts for the time being. This won't be tagged as it's not anything in specific, just said WoL being obsessed with Zenos in a way the other scions either see as increadibly unhealthy or downright terrifying.

Am I doing this right? Is this how you make "below the cut" posts? Maybe

Concept 1 (inspired by a comic we saw where the WoL takes Zenos' eye. Seemingly for differijg reasons), the WoL sees Zenos fuse with a dragon for their "final" fight, and being an Au Ra who is constantly compared to the wyrms and often being criticized as "weaker" and not cut out to be the hero of this world, our WoL seeks to do the same. This sheer fury the WoL harbors causes them to completely ignore her fellow scions, she keeps Zenos from taking his own life, and then fights him, again. Due to his weakened state it only lasts mere seconds, several of the Scions are more than confused. Why would WoL do this? They've never been one to kill for the sake of killing? Was it a prusuit of revenge? Was she proving a point to him? Does he have some influence over them? They do not know.

Shortly after the WoL begins barking orders, telling her fellow Scions to leave her be and that she has "Business to attent to". When they hesistate the WoL in their hazed state threatens them right there, with no thought for what will come after. She *needs* this power he has, she pines for it, obsesses over it. In what felt like an eternity staring down at Zenos' corpse she succumbs to her deepest desires.

The WoL, using a method she thinks will work, this needs to work, and relieves him of one of his eyes. If Nidhogg's was the eye of hate, anger, and revenge, then Zenos' was the eye of obsession, yearning, and most of all... power. She needed this power all for herself, but was not in such a trance as to take both lest she simply become a vessel for Zenos. She also was not enough of a fool to leave any evidence behind of the tampering. She drank of the blood that seeped from his socket before placing her now discarded eye into his head. Using glamour, both eyes were made to look like they were there the whole time.

The WoL, silently showed herself amoung her comrades once more, but without a word, had teleported elsewhere. Where she chose to go off to is a mystery.

(And for the sake of storytelling let's say that it is now at a time where Zenos is back alive and seen near the WoL, or relatively near considering they aren't actively fighting, by the scions.)

Something seems off about the two, something oh so present to all else in the area. They have what seems like a connection, as if both parties are wordlessly speaking a thousand tales that they're absolutely enamoured by.

Later in combat with unrelated foes, it was as if the WoL was bending to the will of an unseen force. From Fandaniel's prespective, Zenos did not seem entirely himself, this obsession with the Warrior, it was not one born of hate or even a yearning for battle. It was one born of seeking, seeking as if she had taken something from him, but also seeking for other, unrelated reasons. Both Zenos and the Au Ra knew what she had done to him, and both knew why.

Zenos was utterly fascinated with this revelation. He could see into the Warrior's intents, see into her very soul, she could keep no secrets from him. Though.. the same can be said both ways. It's as if they can speak to eachother at any time, through their very thoughts. As if they resided in eachother's heads. That is because in reality thanks to the WoL's impulsive actions, they did.

Zenos sought to use this to find out what truly made the Warrior tick, what could without a doubt grasp her attention, what could get her crawling back to him and willing to bend to his will. Did he wish to have his eye returned? No he wished for her to keep it actually. For how else would he have such valueble insight into the ever elusive Warrior. No carefully selected words, no barriors behind one's own mind, nothing could keep him from finding out what he wanted, and being able to feel the WoL's emotions, being able to read her soul so intimately would make this next bsttle all the more interesting. No, he would get her whatever her heart desired at the small cost of one more battle... one to blot out even the brightest of stars in the flames of their passion. One where even those on the opposite sides of reality could feel their entire lives being poured into this very battle. This wasn't too costly was it? After all she has done so much to achieve true dragonhood, her greed almost causing the fall of an entire nation in it's wake. Such a simple solution and all she had to do was rid the world of Zenos once more, then the Warrior could finally become a dragon as she wished to be, could finally ascend to what the world she had once sought to protect wished of her.

Though he wouldn't be one to admit it, he saw this as a weakness. Just another distraction in the coming battle, would she really be giving it her all and more if she wasn't only thinking about him, and destroying him? If the thought of finally getting what she wanted stirred ever present in the depths of her being? Could he settle for such a thing? No, he could not.

He needed to battle in the deepest pits of their souls, he needed to battle the wyrm within the warrior. He needed to have this dragon on a short leash. But just how would he do that? Blackmail? Threatening? Bribery? No... no... he would give her the very thing she sought before the battle even began, he would transform her into the wyrm of her dreams, ever mighty, without equal, and unkillable. All she would need to do is ask, ask, listen, and OBEY.

[ginnsbaker]

Hi. I'm finally able to sort my thoughts about the last 2 updates.

I don't like R very much rn. I don't condone R's treatment of Wanda at all cost. I have previously expressed my desire to see Wanda suffer the results of her actions. But I never meant it to be this way. It was established that R did it purposely because she actually wanted to hurt Wanda. In all honesty, I think that's just fucked up. R is no different to Wanda as some point. I'm not the "I'll do my own revenge" kind of person irl, I'm more like the I'd let the universe/karma do it's own thing. When you hurt me, I'm the type of person who would flee and never see you again lol.

With Pietro, I understand his rage, I really do. Wanda is very important to him so it's normal for him to have that reaction (personally, as an older sibling, I'm VERY protective of my younger sisters too). Still, I won't let his words slide easily. If there's something I hate about someone, it's their hypocrisy. Pietro is no saint either so 😏🤷‍♀️. I do agree to some if his points tho. R is indeed toxic lol.

R needs to stay away from Yelena. Yelena is too good for us 😭. She's so precious and needs to stay away from R's broken and toxic life. I stand with my opinion that R needs a friend, not a new lover. Yelena deserves better no matter how much she insists that she's fine with us or how R will be happy with her. You can't be happy with someone when you're obviously broken. One needs to heal first. R needs to have therapy as soon as possible. Also, R is bound to have a huge breakdown when she learns about what happened with Wanda.

"It hurt Wanda to know that she’d be the one to bring out the worst in you." I'M GONNA BAWL MY EYES OUT 🥹💔😭

Sorry it took me days to sort things out. I got scared after seeing your warnings in part 8. I lost someone I loved dearly to u know (sorry can't even type the word but u know what I mean) just last year. It was a different scenario but that word was enough to trigger something in me. It hurts to lose someone you loved over that. I can't even put it to words how fucked up it was. Anw, thank you for the warning and for clarifying that you won't use what happened to Wanda to get back R. Great job with the last 2 updates. I genuinely felt like the pain and suffering lol. Hope you have a great day :)

- 🦄

First of all, I am so sorry to hear that you lost someone dearly due to that. My heart breaks for you. I hope you heal from it soon if you haven't...

I don't like her too, even as I write her now in Chapter 11. No buts, just that she's acted out of the negative feelings she has repressed for a long time caused by Wanda's infidelity. If you recall, her reaction to the whole cheating things was considered "soft" by a lot of you and the divorce came swiftly because she was just so eager to run away from Wanda and the pain she caused her. She never really dealt with it properly. She was experiencing delayed PTSD. She had wanted to hurt Wanda, to convince Wanda and herself that she doesn't love her anymore.

My friends are friggin cheaters, but they are chosen family, and I will never ever let anyone hurt them in any way. I will fiercely protect the people I love. Yes, same as you, i'm the karma type of person, i leave it to the universe. maybe i'll put in a hurtful word or two but that's it.

R needs to stay away from anyone whose name is Wanda or Yelena lol. But at the same time Yelena also needs to stay away from her. I'm glad I made the right decision to stay away from someone like R in my life, because 2 years later, I found out she cheated on her next girlfriend because she couldn't get over the previous girlfriend who cheated on her. that could've been me, lol.

Therapy will happen. Yes, it's gonna break R when she finds out, but it's a plot device that's not gonna be used in a way that some of you are thinking....

Again, sorry for the trigger. It's going to get mentioned one more time in Wanda's therapy session, so that's one more warning.

Thank you for reading and staying with me. And sharing your thoughts as always. They are precious to me. I hope you have a great week ahead. Take care as well :)

[circus-babe]

Fuck him! | One shot

Synopsis: An advice your friend gave you, that you might of have heard it wrong. Which made you end up doing the unexpected.

Pairing: Taehyung x reader 

Warning: Mature language, Mature content.

Genre: enemies to benefit, smut, somewhat fluff

Word count: 3,8k

“I hate him, I really do namjoon. He bothers me so much. What can I even do?” you yelled while getting up from the couch for the tenth time in the short period of five minutes, making namjoon flinch.

Putting your hands in your face, you groaned. Feeling the irritation flow through your whole body. To which was nothing new to Namjoon.

“You can start by calming down” he quickly replied back, giving you a death glare that made you sit back down on his couch.

Kim Taehyung, your biggest enemy. The person you hate with your entire guts. There’s no time when you don’t express the hate you have for him, the amount of annoyance you get whenever you see him, and well he does the same. He always makes sure to tell you and show you just how much he hates you as well.

Taehyung has made it his goal to bother you every single day, every single morning, afternoon and even night time. But you can’t complain, mostly when you do the same. The hatred has been going on back and forward. You both refuse to talk things out, or even see different solutions to the problem.

And no matter the advice, you both have been like this for 3 years. Ever since your first year of college.

And today he just had the greatest idea to spill water all over your clothes in front of so many people, making you look like an idiot and a fool. You hate him, but you want revenge. And for the past 30 minutes you've been bothering your bestfriend Namjoon about it. For him this is normal

You coming to his dorm and talking about how much you hate Taehyung, you asking for advice that you will never take which you end up following your own thoughts. Nothing about this is new to him.

“Namjoon, help me here” you motioned with your hands. He’s tired and frustrated with the same conversation over and over again. He tells you one thing and you do the opposite.

For him you’re like dora. Asking useless and retarded questions when he knows you’ll do the opposite of what he says. He doesn't even take you seriously at this point. Yet he still loves you with his entire heart.

And even if he hates this stupid conversations, for your he will sit down and listen to them even if you never listen.

“Well...I don’t know. Yell at him?” he quietly responded. Making you throw your head back. Frustration flowing through your body. You want to mess with Taehyung big time, making him feel lost and even like the idiot he is.

Something you haven’t thought about before. But you’ve done everything. You have spilled paint on him, got him suspended, cut his hair as well as eyebrows, thrown eggs at him, spilled water as well and more you can’t remember. Just what now?

You need new and better ideas, things that will be far much more mean than all of the pranks you have done to him so far.

“No namjoon, I did that already, I always yell at him. Give me new Ideas.” you patiently waited for his answer. Rolling his eyes at you, he carefully thought about it.

You just want to win, you want Taehyung to say sorry to you in front of everyone. And until you don’t get that, you won’t stop.

Crossing his arms, he stared at you. Giving you an ‘enough’ face. Looking away, you knew exactly what he meant.

You’ve been bothering Namjoon about this for too long. Now thinking about it you feel bad. It’s all you ever talk about with him. Nothing new. Ever since Taehyung started messing with you, conversations started filling with his name. Taehyung this, Taehyung that.

All you have been focused on was what you thought, the desire of winning that you totally forgot about Namjoon and his emotions. What he thinks of this.  

Sighing to yourself, you were about to tell him something, but he was quicker than you.

“Just fuck him y/n. Give yourself space” he yelled out loud, standing from the chair as you looked at him with wide eyes. But you only focused on the first part. Fuck him....that doesn’t sound bad. He would stop once and for all. And you could get your sexual frustration off. That's perfect. The greatest idea he has given you.

Quickly getting up from the chair,  you gave Namjoon a big smile, one that he found very suspicious. “Thank you! You’re a fucking genius” you smiled, going up to him as you kissed his forehead multiple times, making him smile.

Once you gave him a last smile, you walked towards the door. Confusedly, he watched the sudden change of mood you just had. “And where are you going?” he asked.

“Out” you smiled, walking out the door. Leaving him looking at the door dumbfounded.  

You waited a whole week to get ready, to get your plan in action. You didn't bother Taehyung at all the entire week, just stayed quiet, not trying to gain any attention, nor trying to do anything to him yet. To which he found it suspicious, but didn't say anything.

Even though you didn’t bother him he still continued to keep bothering you, making you angry and so ready to prank him, however you kept calm.

Once Friday hit, you knew you were ready. Fucking your enemy wasn't on your list, it was never on your thoughts to begin with. But you don't mind it at all.

Taehyung is attractive, which you sadly have to admit. You know he’s the talk of the town, the guy all the girls want on their bed. The person they want to fuck so badly, you didn’t think of him in that way. The only thing you thought when you saw him was hate. Which you still do.

However, his good looks could be something, but his attitude is another thing. It’s something that makes him look ugly, rotten. So you didn't pay attention to his looks, not when you got his attitude on display.

Although, you would be lying if you said you wouldn’t date him though.

Focusing back on the corner, you kept looking at the hallway and back at the door. Once he enters his dorm you’ll run towards the door and stop him, you'll confront him in another type of way. One that you aren’t used to. And from there you don't want to imagine it, but feel it.

Your heart suddenly started beating quicker than before, the plan had you nervous, scared even. But you were ready, you won’t coward down, you haven’t done it before and you won’t do it now. Once you saw him walking towards his dorm, you felt your palms become sweaty.

Your eyes slowly lingered on him, watching the way he was on his phone, scrolling through what seemed like instagram. For a second he stopped in front of his door, taking his keys out of his bag, and with that he opened the door.

This is your golden chance, the only chance you would have in a while. You’ve been waiting for it. Make your move.

Once he fully opened the dorm you ran up to him. Pushing him inside the dorm with all force, when you and him were inside you closed the door behind you. Good thing he lives alone in his dorm, to which you investigated before doing this.

Turning back to look at who pushed him, you’re met with a surprised look on his face. The way he looked so surprised was boosting your ego, the way his widened eyes stared down at you. Finally you had him on your knees.

Slowly, you started walking closer towards him.

“You really thought you would escape me” you smirked, putting your hand under his chin. With wide eyes he looked at you, not knowing what to say.

This was just making your ego grow bigger. “What are you doing here?” he asked, something you ignored. Slowly he started walking back, to which you walked closer towards him, once you got your aim, you pushed him into his bed. To which he was surprised, not just at your strength but at your dominance and boldness as well.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” you answered, slowly crawling on top of him. Putting your hand on his bulge, making him softly groan.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” you asked, passing your hand softly while he nodded, throwing his head back on the bed.

“You’re crazy” he said, something that made you stop. You are more than aware of how crazy your decisions could be and this one is proving it.

“Yet you aren’t stopping me” you said, unbuttoning his pants as you stood up from the bed pulling his pants down.

What you said was true, he had the choice of stopping you once you entered his dorm, when you pushed him, yet he didn’t. And for the annoyed face he was giving you, you knew he wasn’t going to stop you any time soon.

Once his pants were down, all you were met with was his boxers, to which you bit your lip to, already seeing the bulge forming on his boxers. Something about having him like this was making you close your legs, it was making you already wet without doing anything yet.

It was hot the way he sat up knowing what you were about to do, giving you that stupid smirk of his that made you always want to punch his face, yet right now you just want nothing more than suck him off.

“With the way you act I don't even know if sucking you off is the right way to go” you said, making him look up at you, giving you a small chuckle before he pulled you closer towards him.

“And with the way you act i don’t know if i want to yell at you or fuck you until you can’t verbally speak” he answered back, staring into your eyes for a few seconds before he pulled you into a kiss. A rough, yet needy kiss.

God the way his lips felt in yours were making you desire him already. It was making all kinds of dirty and filthy thoughts appear in your head. The idea of you bend down on his bed while he roughly thrust into you was already making you weak.

Once he pulled away, you motioned for him to take his boxers off, to which he did, not even disagreeing with you whatsoever. Although the only thing you could focus on was the way his cock looked, the way it came out so perfectly.

Going on your knees, you immediately grabbed his cock, sliding your hands on it. You hate to admit it, but he has a fucking big dick, something you didn’t expect. You thought of a lot of sizes but this one was just right.

“You like it, huh?” he cockly commented, making you roll your eyes at him. He always knows what’s in your head and you hate it.

Once you tested the waters for a bit, you finally gave in, putting his cock on your mouth, making him quietly groan. The idea of you sucking him off was not oddly weird, it felt normal. God your sexual desire wasn’t helping this situation.

Although his cock was big, you got used to it. Sliding your hands up and down while your mouth sucked him off from his tip to all the way down, sometimes gagging but you were doing it.

“Fuck” he quietly said, having his head thrown back while you looked up at him, now licking his cock on the sides all the way back to his tip. Your hands were doing a lot of moments, while your mouth was doing something different, both working together to bring him to the edge.

It wasn’t the way his cock was looking that was making you turn on, but the soft sounds he was doing. The way he was groaning at the way you were sucking his cock, it was making you close your legs tighter than before.

Picking up your pace from your hands and mouth, you started feeling him coming to his edge, the way his thighs tighten was giving you all the signs that he was about to cum in your face. There was never a time you let a guy cum in your mouth, the idea of it going into your mouth didn’t seem pleasant.

So you would either tell him to cum in your chest or something else, but this time the idea didn’t seem so bad, until.

“Fuck stop” he said, something you did. Immediately feeling worried. Have you done something he didn’t like?

“Get the fuck up, i want to cum inside of you” he said, standing up from the bed as you excitedly followed his orders. You didn’t realize just how excited you were, until he pushed you into the bed, pulling your pants down, while you took your shirt off.

“Look at you wanting me to fuck you so bad” he said, leaning closer towards you as he started kissing around your neck, leaving soft wet kisses all the way down to your breasts that were nicely hugged with your bra.

“This has to go” he said, pointing towards your bra, sitting up a bit. You gave him enough space for him to take your bra off, to which he easily took it off. Laying back down on the bed, he continued his trail of kisses, giving your breast more than just a kiss.

He started swirling his tongue around them, giving them kisses as he squished them. Once he was done with your breast, he started making his way down on your stomach, giving you soft kisses that were giving you chills all over your body.

He was making all kinds of desires in you, all kinds of thoughts running through your head. All you wanted was for him to fuck you. For the only noise to be heard to be your moans.

When he finally stopped kissing your stomach, he looked back up at you, giving you a faint smirk. His eyes stayed in you, while his fingers played with the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Having you like this is my weakness now” he admitted, giving you a wink before he grabbed your panties, holding them tightly in his hand, something that made you feel shy. “I’ll keep this” he smiled, putting it somewhere on the floor.

“No you won’t” you said, something he just chuckled at. “Maybe i won’t, but i can give them back to you the next time we fuck” he said, bringing you closer towards the edge of the bed. Hitting your clit with his tip, you gasped.

“You’re so wet and just for me” he said, making you roll your eyes even though he was right. You were indeed wet for him, your panties were literally soaked with your wetness. It was embarrassing to admit just how wet and ready you are for this man to fuck you.

Out of all the times you have had sex, this was the first time you were this wet. This ready for someone to just shut you up and fuck you. You were determined and so needy for him. Something you never were, a thought that was never supposed to occur.

And now you are laying down on his bed, with your legs spread for him.

“Turn around” he said, no more like demanded you. He was demanding you to turn around and who were you to not obey?

Quickly, you turned around, your ass being up in the air. Grabbing your hip with his hand, he positioned you closer towards the edge, making you arch your back down.

“I like to go rough” he looked over to you, trying to see your reaction or if you were comfortable with it. Yeah maybe you were the one that came to him already looking to fuck but above that he would still ask for your thoughts. To see if you were comfortable enough.

“So do i” you said, something he laughed at. Exactly what he expected from you. A girl that is stuff in the outside, yet likes to be fucked roughly in bed. He didn’t expect less of you.

“If i would’ve know that, i would fucked you long ago” he said, making you feel these sudden butterflies in your stomach. His words were leaving this weird feeling inside you. They were causing a different type of desire.

Grabbing his cock with his hand, he pumped it for a few times before he started sliding his tip up and down your stripes, hearing your gasping.

Although he was ready to fuck you, he wanted to tease you a bit. He wanted to play around a little, wanting to see what your reaction would be to his actions.

“Just fuck me already” you irritability said, hearing a chuckle from him. “Oh don’t worry baby, i’ll fuck you for sure” he smirked, aiming his cock exactly at your entrance and without giving you a warning, he thrusted himself inside of you, making you and him gasp.

The way he slammed himself inside of you made your walls immediately wrap around him, while he started feeling the tightness. Shutting your eyes, you threw your face in the pillow.

He didn’t say much, instead he pulled himself out, just to thrust himself back inside you. Filling you up to the brim. He continued to slowly thrust in, making you adjust to his size, and even if he was impatient he would wait.

“Whenever you want to move faster tell me” he said, something you just nodded at, feeling the way his thrust were both slow and deep. Deep inside of you, making your legs already wobbly, that if it weren’t for his hand that was holding onto your hip then you would’ve fallen over.

He continued to move at his pace, and once you told him to go faster his way of thrusting fully changed. What were once slow thrusts inside of you, had nothing compared to the way he was thrusting now.

The rough and fast pace he had was showing you just how needy he was for you like you were for him, the way his hips were crashing onto yours once his cock entered fully inside you. All of this was making you moan louder than you thought you would.

“Fuck, taehyung don’t stop” you yelled onto the pillow, gripping onto the sheets as he continued his on thing, slapping your ass once he had the chance. You were completely lost in the lust, in the desire, in the foggy mind.

All that mattered to you was him, his cock, and the way he was roughly thrusting into you. Nothing mattered more than that. There was no thought that was more important than that.

“Shit you feel awesome” he groaned out, reaching to one of your breaths as he took it with his hand, caressing your nipple with his finger. The knot that had been forming inside of you was ready to burst, to finally explode.

It was embarrassing to admit how close you were to your orgasm, how close you were to cumming on his cock. Feeling him raw inside of you made those birth control pills so much more worth it, it was like a reward for you taking them.

You didn’t think of taking birth control, you thought of condoms better than that, until you decided to try it and did it raw with one of your past exes. The idea of having them raw inside of you felt so much better than a condom.

The sex felt better, the experince was more intimate doing it raw then with a condom. At first there was a fear inside of you, that maybe it wasn’t the right mood or for pregnancy issues, but over time the fear went away.

The sound of your skin and his clapping together, your moans and the rocky bed was what brought you back to your senses. Feeling the way his thrusts become faster because he was going to cum just like you were.

“I’m cumming” you yelled out, gripping even tighter on the sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching, reaching you bit by bit until you came hard on his cock, feeling your body worn out. Once you came, he continued to thrust inside of you, even if it was sloppy he was still going in hard.

“Are you on the pill, i forgot to ask” he said, slapping your ass as you flinched. “I am” you said, barely being able to let those words out. Nodding he continued to thrust inside of you and once he reached his limit he came inside of you, fully covering your walls with his cum that was now mixed with yours.

“Holy shit” he breathed out, kissing your back, as he stood up again. Pulling out of you, he watched the way his cum was dripping down to your legs, feeling exhaustion wash over him.

Picking you up, he carried you to the left side of the bed, placing you down slowly as he made his way to the other side of the bed. He could care less for the mess, or for how sweaty he was, all he cared about was to let you rest.

Pulling the blanket, he covered your body as he covered himself as well. With a sigh coming from him, he pulled you closer towards him, making you groan.

“We are definitely fucking again” he said, making you softly laugh on his bare chest. You didn’t get to see just how well built Taehyung is. The way his body had more muscle than you have seen, not that you pay much attention to his body.

“Are we?” you said, looking up at him as he nodded. “Fuck yeah” he said, making you laugh, while you closed your eyes, his arms wrapped around you, having you closely towards him.

“We can even fuck in the shower” he said, winking at you a couple of times. The idea of having shower sex didn’t seem bad, the only thing there was, it was a public bathroom. A bathroom all the boys in this hallway used.

“No, not that” you said, making him laugh. Giving your head a kiss, he placed his chin on your head, closing his eyes as he started feeling tired.

“Then my dorm will do” he chuckled and with that you both slept away. Crazy to think a plan like this went over your head.

Thank you, Namjoon.