#listen. i take most lore as a suggestion

[begay-doocs]

Well well well, look who's art tablet adaptor got lost.... I've noticed that traditional art doesn't do as well on the internet, but eh. I post mostly for myself. and also because I think a blog will be a neat experiment.

This is My Version of Marc!! otherwise known as Apollo, the holder of the Wolf Miraculous. (new name pending, because lucy and I have decided to do that I think) He's so very dear to me, and I'll probably ramble about him so much more on the alcohol marker pieces im working on.

there is so much lore based on this au, and I can't decide if I should put it all here, or in a new post. either way, lore will be posted soon. Because there is Much To Ramble About. The show lore is a Suggestion and only somewhat considered.

(@lucydoodlessometimes)

showing off the gold pen shinies under the cut

[astrow0rldx]

PAC Tarot: What is your seductive power🫧

COUNT LEFT TO RIGHT NOT VERTICALLY. while writing, the moon is in leo, time to shine!

pick an image it can be whatever your intuition calls to, the photography you find most aesthetically pleasing, or just the one that reminds/looks most like you (doesn't have to).

these were so random on my Pinterest homepage, and don't fit into any category, i chose them before the reading to. but lets get into the reading.. Listen to your song to understand your muse & extra messages. Click the link to understand the Seduction Type for your pile.

Pile One type: the natural

TAROT: 3 of pentacles, 3 of wands. ORACLE: Root chakra: Resilience + "enslaved, surrendering control"

Unpredictable, exciting, adventurous.

Besides your type as the natural, which is the least toxic archetype and basically about being genuine, playful & having a emotional connection that connects them with childhood nostalgia. Read more about it on the link + listen to your song.

Your seduction power is your strength to overcome things. Cope with hardships. Your deep lore, and trauma. People probably are seduced by the thought of you "taking it" & surrendering yourself to them. You having that strength. With the double 3 also signifying this growth & resilience, you seduce people by maturing kind of. The strength and confidence you come with from it.

People may be seduced when you are with groups of people too. 3 of wands is also about traveling, & expanding experiences. Heavy on the adventure part, adventures with you, your forward thinking & openness seduces people. Seduced by going places and exploring with you, like field trips, dates, parties, plans. The more you grow in life, that seduces people. Sexually people might be seduced by the fact that they can try new experiences with you, and grow/expand.

You definitely seduce people in school or work areas. People are seduced when they are working with you, again in a group. How you work with them & build connections and your teamwork that you put into it. The way you can collaborate and the way you make other people feel collaborating with them.

Pile Two type: the rake

TAROT: 3 of swords. King of Cups. ORACLE: Third eye: Merlin + Dominator

I did not talk about the rake in my seduction type post, because that seduction type is mostly used by men. I mean if you are a masc, or like women then hey. But at the end of the day the rake isn't as masculine. It's just the rebel, player bad boy type. But when he wants a girl he love bombs her to make her feel desired. So if your a feminine that dealt with that, you really can play the game on them. I suggest you look more into the rake archetype, & listen to your song! (yes it was shuffled, ironic how it's "promises")

3 of swords & King of cups, literally sound like your archetype. Heartbreaker Lover. King of cups is very emotionally intelligent, which most manipulative people have, but king of cups is not alwaysss manipulative. Very compassionate & understanding. They are emotional creatures, but balanced. Romantic, Charming, Sympathetic. Merlin is an old wise mediator. Very mature but balances people emotions. Emotionally intelligent asf.

But 3 of swords, takes 3 shots to heart and is betrayed, depressed, separated. Which is the effect you give to them. But you could also seduce people from the complex pain you been through, and your big heart with it. So your seduction power is definitely the rake. With dominator your probably the one that dominates the romance and affection within the relationship, so you can have the control to take it away and heartbreak. Sexually, people are seduced by wanting you to dominate them & take control.

I feel like you might accidentally give people false promises from just your vibe & when you separate, it breaks their heart and seduces them.

Pile Three type: the star

TAROT: Ace of wands, Page of Wands. Oracle: Solar Plexus: Centered + Sex toys

Your seduction type, which I hope you go to the link to really understand, the star is a blank canvas for people fantasies & dreams. They are idolized and put on a high pedestal and attract people who want to watch them. Listen to your song!!!! (Another song I channeled which is ironic because the one I shuffled is Homiesexual. the other song is Homie Bitch by Lil Durk) I bet you pull groups of men, and all their homies or something. Listen to the full song of both tho for extra messages.

Magnet, Magnet, Magnet. I know your sexy, get a lot of attention, or seduce people. If you don't think you do, you do & have a lot of present potential to. Your seduction power is turning people on. Your seduction power is quite literally in you in your sexual energy to. People like when your freaky. People might be seduced by the fact you using toys on yourself. Or quite literally look at you as a sex toy. You put people in that carnal, raw, curious, adrenaline, playful, thrilling sexual energy. You are looked at as a good fuck.. because page of wands is pretty immature and thinking with whatever they have between their legs. Are you like a hoe, or a thot?? If so, to my "thots" you seduce people that way.

Your seduction is you, just you shining in your energy, centered in yourself, your exciting self, your sexual self. Your vibrant, fiery self. EXPRESSING YOURSELF & BEING BOLD. spontaneous, playful, creative self. You seduce people by the way you spark excitement in others, or them.

Pile Four type: the dandy

TAROT: The Hermit, The Empress. ORACLE: Throat Chakra: Inner truth + Face

Go to the link to really understand. But as a dandy you are seductive in your individuality, uniqueness, weirdness, REBEL & DIFFERENT, ambiguous, gender fluid side. Dandy gives me a lot of Aquarius, Uranus Prominent energy.

By the picture you chose, the face & the empress card, your probably pretty and have a nice face card. That's a way you seduce people. The empress is a queen of all queens, top model energy so your femininity or just how people see you as a high valued woman is seductive to people. The way your out the mix, and go with your inner truth, and your OWN shit is seductive. People respect you a lot & your independence. Your loner vibe can seduce people, in a mystique, puzzling type way. People love to hear what YOU have to say & are seduced when you speak your mind. They love your honesty & transparency.

Pile Five type: the charismatic

TAROT: 10 of cups, 9 of cups. ORACLE: Third Eye chakra: Ancient Knowledge + Doggy

Since I didn't write about this one in my seducer type post: "A charismatic seducer is someone who is exciting and self-driven, and who can come across as someone most people want to be like. They may be leaders, visionaries, public figures, or great orators. Charisma is a presence that excites us. It comes from an inner quality, self-confidence, sexual energy, sense of purpose, contentment that most people lack and want. This quality radiates outward, permeating the gestures of Charismatics, making them seem extraordinary and superior. They learn to heighten their charisma with a piercing gaze, fiery oratory, an air of mystery. Create the charismatic illusion by radiating intensity while remaining detached. compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others."

Listen to your song for extra messages. Another lyric i channeled for this pile is "Is this the thanks that I get for putting you bitches on" by Nicki Minaj.

Your seduction type, with the tarot you got + your song is like your their ultimate ecstasy, wish fulfillment, need, satisfaction. Everything they want. You seduce people by the idea of worth you have, like if this was mine I would be soo happy. Your everything. You may be thick, don't have to be just a nice booty, & people are seduced by the idea of putting you in doggy. They like that idea of you, even by the picture you chose, your arch pics, the way you sit, or stuff like that that symbolize that position can seduce people.

You might be witches, tarot readers too. Or your special, ancient, or inner knowledge that you have to bring to the table seduces people.

Pile Six type: the siren

TAROT: 3 of wands, Page of wands. ORACLE: Sacral Chakra: Inhibitions + Dominator

The siren is the one that is so sensually appealing to all the senses, irresistible allure, and captivating. While also having a dream like experience on them from their push-pull manipulation tactic. Go to the link to understand more, & listen to your song for extra messages.

For this pile you might have been going back & forth on which one to choose. But a siren definitely has multiple archetypes anyways and is very seductive so that makes sense. You seduce people when having fun, Idk if you have life of the party energy, but when you are in that energy or just in your spontaneous energy that brings them back to maybe that age of 15-27 year old energy you know what I mean. Your adrenaline, or the adrenaline you give people. When you guys take trips and have fun that seduces people. The downtown vibe from your picture adds to it. Sacral Chakra is all about our joy & pleasures. But Inhibitions is someone who's shy & self conscious, reserved. This could be you, or how you make people feel that just seduces people.

People are seduced by your playful sexual side, maybe when drunk, twerking, dancing, thirst traps, etc etc.

Your dominance, and the way you take charge seduces people. Im channeling this song i seen used for a Kamala Harris Edit 246 something party girl, brat something. LMAO. But maybe Kamala Harris is a sign she's this fun easy going party girl, who's our future president of the USA. She's connected with her sacral chakra, inner child. But she can Dominate a room. Even the song choice of Nicki Minaj gives similar energy. Sexually, people are seduced when you do dominate them.

Pile Seven type: the coquette

TAROT: 4 of pentacles, The World. ORACLE: Face, Throat chakra: Divine Messenger.

The coquette as a seduction type, is not all lolita, baby girl aesthetic. Even though it could be. It's the ultimate female manipulator. Look at the link to learn more, but she seduces by making people jealous to compete. Distancing once it gets to good to delay gratification & make them obsessed with her affection. etc etc. Listen to your song for more messages to.

Going with your seduction type, you seduce people by making them feel whole with you. Like with you their complete, and your someone they want to hold on to, not let go & posses. With the divine messenger, people could feel like your meant to be, sent to them, wether its literally spiritual or they just have that emotional feeling. You also seduce people by your air of independence and the fact that your complete & whole in yourself and that you are very self-assured. You seduce people by being stingy, and fulfilled. You seduce people with everything you have, and how valuable you are and the things that you value. 2nd house/taurus energy. You could have a lot of material things, or things going for your self, you seem very achieved and that seduces people.

Your probably pretty, and your face card seduces people, or just your facial expressions, eye contact, etc etc.

Pile Eight type: the charmer

TAROT: 3 of wands. Ace of cups. ORACLE: Solar Plexus: Wholeness of self + Red Flag.

Charmer is the funny but empathetic inviting charming person. Look at my link to really understand the psychology behind this archetype. I channeled a lyric, "Come & touch me, let me know that your real". And it just goes with your archetype + red flag. People are seduced by the fact they can't trust you but want to trust you, because you seduce them. Listen to your song!! (Its so ironic how the most emo song got shuffled for the most emo picture)

People are seduced by the adventure & experiences you expand them to. Your thrill, and newness. Seduced by the love you have to offer and give, people are seduced when you first come in, your honeymoon stage or just they feel like that a lot because your affection and love/care you give is so seductive. People are seduced by the fact that your secure and safe within yourself, and you let loose with people. Your probably a calm, in the moment person. People are seduced by your too good to be true charm, and its like your a red flag.

Pile Nine type: the ideal lover

TAROT: ten of cups, 3 of wands ORACLE: crown chakra: spiritual awakening + spooning

The Ideal Lover archetype is a seductive who can mold into people ultimate soulmate fantasy. Look on my link to understand more, and listen to your song for extra messages.

okay so many piles get 3 of wands & i shuffle really good. 3 of wands might be an extremely seductive power, the way people can expand experiences, have adventures & escape. That's definitely your power. The fact that you got 10 of cups as a Ideal Lover Archetype. You are the Ideal Lover, people feel happy ever after, marriage, kids, ecstasy with you. You literally bring them to a whole new world. Especially with the spiritual awakening card. Your song picture perfect, its like your literally a walking fantasy. People are grateful to have you, but with seduction power you can use that to your best advantage that you have a gift to morph into being your target soulmate romance fantasy. Spooning is such a romantic sexual oracle card. People just want to be under you, hug you. Your like marriage material!

[circeyoru]

collection of overlords??? I love it so muchh 😭💗💗. I have some questions for this, does reader have any connection to Lucifer? By that i mean are they close and does he visit them from time to time. Or does he just ignore them as long as they don't bring harm to his family and to most of the residents of the ring? I feel like for someone like reader that owns all of the overlords soul, Lucifer would at least be acquainted with them (all of your writings are so addicting, I've already read all of them twice by now)

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Collection of Overlords}.

Thank you for liking this newest story!! And my writings!! I can't believe there are part 2 requests. Now there's ask!! AHHH!!

Anyways. Back to the topic at hand~ A bit of lore too

Simple answer yes. (ok end of this post, just kidding)

Okay, essentially, I see Reader/you with this background. You were the Ruler of Hell, before Lucifer and Lilith's arrival. Since Lucifer was a powerful angel then fell, you let him hold the title of King of Hell since you saw him to be the one with more power. And the fact that if he used holy magic on you, there wasn't much of a way you could counter it. However, Hellborns still see you as a royal of the highest rank, but they don't rebel against Lucifer or Lilith's reign so it's all okay.

You were the one to help Lucifer and Lilith rise to power once they arrived, nothing like what you did to the Overlords. You introduced them to the demon nobles and the sins of different Rings of Hell. Naturally, they were stationed in Pride where you were formerly. The Overlord system wasn't in effect yet, it only started when Lucifer and Lilith's reign became less public and their focus shifted. You suggested a new hierarchy ranking that was specific to Sinners since there were a vast number of them and they do aim to stand in power. There can't be a rebellion and the Hellborns were in line because of their respective Ring's Sin. What of Pride? Because either the King or Queen were taking their duties, you took the role of maintaining a balance.

Your relationship with Lucifer in the beginning was a mentor and mentee type, since you had more experience with ruling, you showed him the ropes. Then it turned to friends when he was in his Kingly position. While others may see you two as rivals with your 'army' of Overlords and Lucifer's angelic powers, you two respect each other on serious matters. Plus, Lucifer understands that you basically still hold authority over Hell like back in the old days, but you just don't show it. Your history as the Ruler of Hell was painted as a legend that the Hellborns passed on to their children from generation to generation.

You notice how there are eyes everywhere? I'll adapt it to you being everywhere and nowhere at the same time. That's how you keep an eye out for things and know when to act.

Fun fact: Lucifer makes you ducks too, it's basically like a private phone between you two. It's still a bit awkward when you hold up the ducky to your ear. You're also his unpaid therapist when it came to listening to him rant and whine about missing his daughter, Charlotte all the time.

[cheemscakecat]

Red team built different? [Surprise, it’s Dadspy lore]

Meanwhile RED Scout:

I’m just now realizing that BLU Hoovy would have been low health if he was eating his sandvich, but still.

Whether Hoovy had lower health or not, RED Scout still seized an opportunity in battle, which is one of his strengths. And if he’s knocked out, that’s one less danger to the rest of RED.

It’s just funny to me that BLU Hoovy is such a threat in Emesis Blue, getting bigger and coming back over and over, meanwhile RED team just kills him like everyone else.

This is your friendly reminder that RED Spy killed BLU Soldier and BLU Heavy on his own.

And took Joey Murders’ makeshift knife out of his burly hand and stabbed him dead in one hit. In a matter of seconds.

Another thing that’s relevant:

*Gets private moment with the missus ruined by teammates invading their space*

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Run.”

Ya notice how Soldier and Medic -two of the most insane, unpredictable RED mercs- ran away in fear? From RED Spy holding a golf trophy like Scout with a baseball bat? It is made of metal… but so is Scout’s grey bat, so like…

This is why I’ve been saying Spy put his stats into upper body strength, and Scout put his stats into speed. [It’s also not like Scout got a good chance to slow down and learn to hit harder with his brother situation].

Scout’s legs are thicker, especially in the thighs. It’s harder to tell with the baggy pants, but if you look closer, all the loose folds are below his knees. Jeremy’s muscle is concentrated in his thighs, that’s why they fill out his pants like that. Maybe that’s the real reason why we haven’t gotten a shorts cosmetic for him that isn’t just femscout legs or on top of his pants.

Femscou legs [the skin tone doesn’t match]

It’s even harder to tell where Spy’s muscle mass is since his clothes are tailored with that in mind, but Valve made a model for Meet the Spy, and someone created a more polished cosmetic.

The Valve version is way less polished, but he still had abs and more muscle up top. While also not skipping leg day.

One of the reasons why Scout is weaker despite working at RED for so many years is because of his diet.

Bonk is radioactive, and if Medic didn’t keep healing Scout on the regular he’d probably end up with the same horrible health problems as the Radon girls. [BLU Medic has probably shown pictures of them to BLU Scout, to try to convince him to quit].

But on the off chance that Jeremy was willing to listen to Spy’s advice, he could get better quality food and start gaining upper body muscle. They are both skinny legends though, so it would take longer than he’d like. Little bro is not patient.

[an0ma1y-th3d0ma1y]

Other Tactics

(A/N: This fic doesn’t take place in the canon ATSV lore but rather a lil delusional AU where Miguel is chill with the spider teens and is like a father figure to em :] hope you enjoy!!)

“AAAAAHH IM SORRY IM SOHORRY!!”

A young voice echoed through the halls of the Spider Society HQ. The voice leading back to Miles who was currently running for his life from the one and only Miguel O’Hara, but not for the reason you might assume.

“So you think you’re so funny sneaking up on me like that, huh?”

“Mahaybe!”

The two went back and forth, the young spider backed up into the corner of the ceiling like a frightened tarantula. Immediately diving past the older man when he attempted to grab him. Quickly turning invisible, which was really dramatic for a situation like this, letting out a small scream when Miguel’s glowing red web suddenly wrapped around his waist.

In a moment of pure panic and excitement, he zapped Miguel. Quickly pushing himself out of his arms and into the go-home-machine room. Miguel calming his nerves from the sudden shock followed by a small chuckle as he walked into the room.

“Ay, you little arañas thinking you can get away with everything..” He growled deeply through a smirk, listening for any hints at where the spiderling might’ve ran off to. And sure enough, his ultra-hearing picked up an ever so slight giggle. Taking in a deep ‘annoyed’ breath, Miles nearly jumped out of his skin when Miguel’s web was all of a sudden wrapped around him. Yelping and failing at grabbing at an object for support when he was pulled from his secret hiding spot. His invisibility wearing off, revealing himself to Miguel who had a firm grasp on the boy to assure he wouldn’t wiggle off somewhere else.

“Miguel! We can talk about this, right man?? I mean, I-It wasn’t even my idea! Hobie suggested it to me and I just followed along-“

Miles continuously ranted while Miguel casually walked out and towards the database room. Rolling his eyes at the amusing nervous stammering of the young teen. “Doesn’t change the fact you executed it.. I’ll get that little pest later, right now you’re gonna have to face punishment.” Miguel brushed off his stammering, stepping onto the aerial platform with the squirming spider still in his firm grasp

“Well, taking your watch away obviously doesn’t seem to get my message through now does it?” Miguel raised an eyebrow, looking down at Miles who had a nervous grin. “..Whaaaaat?? O-of course it does!” He retorted, but he already knew where this conversation was going.. “Last I checked, no it doesn’t.” He commented, unsheathing his claw. “Perhaps I need some more.. extreme solutions. Since you little pequeños don’t seem to get the message.”

A small squeak escaped Miles’ lips when Miguel’s clawed finger ever so slightly dragged along his midsection. Tracing little shapes into it while it flinched and sucked in at every little small touch. “..Thihis reheheally isn’t necessary, mahahan..” He tried to protest through his small giggles, struggling to wiggle out of the firm hold Miguel had him trapped in.

“Oh, it most certainly is.”

Miguel winced a bit at the teens loud scream near his ear when he clawed at his belly. Kicking his legs and squirming like a maniac even if they had barely even started. “AAHAHAAA!?- MIhihiHIGuhehel please I-I’m- I’m sohoHOHORRY!!”

“Are you though? Or are you just saying that to get free?” Miguel questioned teasingly. Without warning, he switched his tactics to instead drag his claw up Miles’ side and ribs before descending back down. Resisting the urge to break out laughing at his hilarious response.

The kid cackled and squirmed, even snorting a little in between his laughter. However, their little lighthearted interaction was quickly interrupted when Miles suddenly shot his elbow up, not paying attention to who was behind him.

A sickening POW silenced the rest of the noise, Miles being dropped on the floor by Miguel who cupped his cheekbone in pain. Miles’ eyes widening, immediately assuming the worst. “Crap- Oh shoot I’m so sorry are you okay, man!? Did I do any serious damage d-do you need to go to medbay I can- AA!!—

Miles was cut off from his nervous ranting when he was suddenly grabbed by the older man. Before he knew it, he was shrieking and cackling like a mad man. Miguel scribbling furiously at his underarms while Miles had his biceps glued to his ribs.

“GYAHAAHAAHAHAA!!!— *snort* NAHAHAHA IHIM SAHAHARRYY!! *snort* *snort*” The young spider cried out, getting a chuckle from Miguel. Soon enough, the older spider gave mercy to him. Gently holding him under his arms and letting him get some breaths in, especially after having squirmed and thrashed like crazy..

“Ohoh gohod.. Look ihim sorry, ohokay!?”

“..Are you though?”

“..nope. Wahwahait nononNAHAAHAHAA IHI AHAM I AMM!!”

[seelestia]

— 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔. (𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑)

SUMMARY. playing a silly pick-me-up game with the wanderer is all it takes for him to realize that he is a liar and he hates you (this is a lie). (1.0k+ words)

CHARACTERS. scaramouche / kunikuzushi / wanderer + GN!reader.

GENRE. fluff.

CW. set after the events of sumeru's archon quest, reader says one attempted corny line, scara is called kunikuzushi here, light references to scara's lore.

THOUGHTS. an offering to scaranation because this man has been on my mind without paying rent (disrespectful btw /j). also, this work is inspired by this tiktok! <3

(+ tagging @medeaheartly aka the most persistent scara stan i know. ily, jae <3)

✰ masterlist.

"This is stupid."

KUNIKUZUSHI has lived for half a millennium and this is, by far, this is the stupidest thing he has ever heard — or rather, the stupidest idea that has been suggested to him.

After all, who even thinks that sitting down together and saying what you like about yourself is a good idea?

Not that he has heard many in his life; the Balladeer was known for coming up with his own ideas and executing them to perfection himself. If a subordinate even dared to utter any sort of suggestion, he'd make sure those were their last words. What, did they think he was incapable of thinking for himself?

...Or at least, until now after the Balladeer became a discarded identity, a fragment of his past. But still, it doesn't mean he is fond of this particular idea and what is more stupid is that he can't even object to it.

Well, he can just outwardly say no if he wants to. There is nothing here that is stopping him technically... Oh, but there is one obstacle, you see.

You are holding his hands in yours — and the most mortifying part here is that he doesn't want you to let go.

Ugh. Holding hands is such an unnecessary and useless step, he scoffs to himself.

Although Kunikuzushi said all that internally, he doesn't do a spectacular job at concealing his annoyance well. It is portrayed there so clearly across his face like a stroke of bright color on a blank canvas that you can't help but frown.

"Well, Nahida said it'll help. So, it won't hurt to try once, right?" You then give his hands a gentle squeeze, just a little gesture to pass on a sense of encouragement through your linked fingers.

But it is more than just "a little gesture" to Kunikuzushi because for one moment, he almost wants to retract the last statement he said about holding hands. Almost.

"...Fine," he mumbles sharply.

"Good," you nod in response, but he doesn't miss the hint of enthusiasm in the way you do it. "I'll start first," you say, the ends of your lips starting to curl into a smile.

Is that smile supposed to be intentional or not? He can't tell, but what he can tell is that he already dislikes this stupid game.

He dislikes it because he can't understand why he is holding onto your every word in anticipation. Kunikuzushi can't fathom just why exactly is he so curious about what you like about yourself? Whatever, it isn't as if he cares that much, hmph.

"I like..." You trail off and the male listens intently, way more intently than he expects himself to. "—Your smile," you end your sentence with an ounce of satisfaction so evident in your tone.

All the amount of focus he invested gone to waste just for you to say that? "Tsk, you're the one who wanted to play this game so much. At least, stick to the rules, idiot," he grumbles lightly.

He wants to come off as indifferent, but the way the lightest shade of red begins to graze his cheeks betrays him. Kunikuzushi averts his gaze away from you behind the pretense of rolling his eyes. By all means, he thinks your attempt was terrible; after all, he rarely ever smiles but you've seen him smile before, even if it was once in a blue moon.

...You can't actually mean that corny line in a genuine way, can you? No, that must be a ruse to catch him off guard, he is sure of it.

"Okay, okay," you seem to find enjoyment in his reaction, letting out a chorus of amused giggles. At this point, Kunikuzushi doesn't even dislike this game anymore, he hates it now — and that stupid lightness in your voice as you laugh, he hates that too (what a weird thing to point out).

"I'll do it for real this time," you stifle another giggle before eventually retiring from your fit of laughter. "You better," the male in front of you scrunches his nose in, what you assume to be, a menacing way.

Intent on keeping your promise, you take a deep breath, "I like..." For some reason, your gaze just lands on him as if on instinct as you continue, "—My eyes."

And to Kunikuzushi, too, it is on pure instinct when his own pupils suddenly look up to meet yours. Your eyes, you say? He examines the subject of your words closely, indigo irises clashing against [E/C] ones.

There, inside them, his reflection almost seems to drown completely in the colour of your irises. A brilliant [E/C] color surrounds his figure at the sides, not as if it wants to consume him but to douse him in that very same color. Kunikuzushi used to despise looking into a mirror; he despises looking at his face, the very product of what his creator constructed... but not right now.

He waits and waits for that same feeling of hatred to resurface, but he can't feel it. It's still there, but subdued. Subtle, as if a lid was placed above it. Why? Is it because he is looking into your eyes and not a mirror? What an irking conclusion. Just what kind of sorcery are you and that little forest god casting on him?

But how ironic, he can't find it in him to look away from you. His brain is shouting at him to make a remark about how "irritating" your eyes are — yet, in the end, the only thing that escapes his lips is a confession murmured under a hesitant breath.

"...I like your eyes too," he murmurs quietly.

You can tell that those words are meant to be taken away by the wind, never meant to be discovered again. Perhaps, Barbatos isn't on his allogene's side today because you can hear those words as clearly as day.

"I heard that," you smile softly.

Embarrassment instantly takes over and Kunikuzushi snaps out of his trance in the snap of a finger. He looks away with that disgruntled look again as he says, "Ugh, I hate you so much."

"Is that a lie? Do you really hate me?"

"...Shut up."

(Yes, it's a lie.)

─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─

✰ TAGLIST: @meimeimeirin @hcikazu @tsuk4sa-yug1 @catcze @semi-orangeapple @yuuki4646 @d-a-r-k-s-w-a-n @daisydkj @omgscaramouche @coquettemaiden @lemontum @herdrops — [ bolded names are unable to be tagged + register here to be a part of my taglist! ]

© SEELESTIA, dec 2022. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.

[aitadjcrazytimes]

It's been a good run

But it's time to bring this to a close!

The saga is over, C, T and I are all together. T and I are in the swing of it, C approves as much as it is possible for him to approve of anything, everyone knows about the blog and is chill.

C is back at his rightful place of walking his sister down the aisle.

I'm getting everything I want, and we're all free to make each other miserable until the day we die.

I'm not going to be updating this blog anymore! Nobody else involved with the situation will be submitting any more AITA posts either, because they are either not on tumblr or agreed it would be annoying.

I will say that there is some stuff on here that I've alluded to that isn't necessarily 100% in the spirit of things, so I've included some stuff below the cut for the folks who have caught onto that. I would not suggest reading it if you like how all of this played out and want to keep it that way. I know that's incredibly vague, but I'm not sure how to phrase it without making it weird?

Thank you all for listening and talking to me over the past few days! That's where I'm leaving it!

...

...

...

...Is everyone who wants to keep believing in the disaster polycule gone? Yes? OK!

So, this was fake. I made up the whole thing. TK and C and T and everyone else are fictional characters. Did I lie? Yes. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Q: All of it? Even the og AITA post? The followup AITA post? The screenshots?

A: All of it.

Q: Wh... Why did you do this...?

A: Well, first this all started as a Red vs Blue fanfic for the ship Chexer (Church/Tex/Tucker)-

It started as a fanfic for Chexer. However, I was already working on a different fanfic for RVB that was totalling about 15k words at this point (+ at least 90k to go), and I knew I would never have the time or energy to write this one. I thought: yknow. this would be really funny as an aita post.

Q: It was a fanfic of a Halo fanfic series.

A: Yep!

So, I submitted Tucker's perspective. I did not expect for it to get more than maybe 100 notes at most. I totally thought someone would call it out right away.

The funny part is, if I'd dedicated all this energy to a fic instead of this blog, I'd probably have about 15-20 thousand words of fic already, but whatever, can't ruin my personal day!

Also, I wanted to see how many people would figure it out/how long it would take for it to become too obvious that this was a fandom thing. I was dropping names and RvB lore since the beginning. A few people did figure it out, and I DMed them in private to let them know.

Q: But why make the blog then?

A: Because I love to lie and be a nuisance to the general populace! <3

It was always my intent to wait until Carolina's perspective got posted (i am honestly still shocked i got away with "Carey/Georgia/West Virginia/Alabama/Miss Louisiana 1988"), let it simmer for about a day, then come clean. Which is what I'm doing now!

The reason I'm coming clean now instead of dragging it out is because I don't want anyone to feel stupid or like they got duped. You're not stupid! You were a part of this story! This was, as one anon said, a creative writing project. It was a collaboration! Thank you so much for helping me!

That said, I'm sorry to anyone that finds this disappointing! I had a blast doing this, but I will not be doing it again. I have gotten my fill. I have had my taste of being an influencer, and now I can go on with my life without ever feeling like I need to start a youtube channel.

Q: How did you keep up with a consistent timeline?

A: I didn't, especially at first. But in my time as a liar who lies about things, I have found that usually people are willing to believe you when you say "yeah, i lied about that".

Q: Wait, what about the thing with your kid?

A: Yeah, I fucked up on this one. In the other fic I was/am writing, Tucker was around 33. So, when I was saying what Junior's age was, I subtracted it from 33 and got 18. It wasn't until I was showing my partner the blog and they said "Wait, he had his kid at 13??????" that I realized I had fucked up. Oops!

Q: Was it really ALL fake?

A: For the most part. I will say that I did actually drop chocolate cake all over my tits that one time and had to shower by myself like a fucking loser. That one was true. I did also get my nails done for the first time ever, which did actually affect my typing. And I am in a band (but so is Tucker, canonically)! There are a few other things as well, but I don't want to list all of them.

Q: DID you ever read homestuck?

A: Nope. And I never will.

Even the title, though I will say that the title I came up with was "Leonard "Alpha Bitch" Church's Decidedly Not Lo-Fi Beats to Get Nasty and Get Clean To: The Movie"

Q: So there was never a combination sex/bathtime playlist?

A: Maybe! But perhaps more accurately: the combination sex/bathtime playlist was inside of you all along. You can make it. There are only three songs on there that are canon to the lore of this blog. Those are No Children by The Mountain Goats, Take It Out On Me by Thousand Foot Krutch, and one unknown song from the album Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV by Coheed and Cambria (Yep, the call was coming from inside the house, I gave Church my music taste). I had intended this to be Wake Up, but it's out of my hands now. The rest is yours to fill in.

Q: What's your main blog, so I can follow you?

A: Hi, this is aitadjcrazytimes. You're not getting that.

Q: Your AO3 handle?

A: Nope, not that either.

You will never find me. And that's the way I want it. You will see me in every blog. Every new follower. Every stranger you meet on the street. You will look into your discord kitten's eyes, and you will absently wonder if he was the one behind aitadjcrazytimes. And you will never know for certain.

Q: But-

A: Let me live on in your memory. The only person who knows both who I am and the fact that I did this is my partner, who is not into RvB or commonly on tumblr. I am not a RvB blog. I am not a writing blog. I am a nobody on the fringes of tumblr society who's been here long enough to know how to remain in the shadows.

And, even if you do manage to find me, against all odds:

No one will ever believe you.

I am closing my askbox. I am also closing my messages. If you have anything to say to Tucker or Me (tumblr user aitadjcrazytimes), you are welcome to do so in the replies or reblogs, but you will not be receiving an answer. I'll keep this blog up for anyone that wants to go through after the fact and do a deep dive or what have you.

Thanks to everyone who made this into the wild ride it was! Live long and get fucked or whatever! Xoxo <3

[stoutguts]

First time posting something like this so I hope people will like it! 👉👈

Gaming (💀🧼)

chock full my own personal HCs and ideas, mostly unhinged rambling about Ghoap if they were into video games/gaming habits because brainworms and rot

Ghost is a complete fucking nerd, he's autistically obsessed with DND, Skyrim, Bloodborne, Dark Souls, etc. Their eyes will light up whenever someone asks him about these games/interests in particular, and whenever they get the chance to geek out and talk about them/it he will of course talk your ear off about it. Soap always listening to it's nerdy rants with equal enthusiasm, as he just loves to hear Simon talk no matter what it’s about, but also because he’s always so eager to learn. Ghost also occasionally likes to play fifa or rocket league or something along those lines, but it gets major game rage when it plays those games because he sucks ass at it. Also, they've probably got like 2,500+ hours in Skyrim alone. Even if sports related games aren’t their strong suit, he’s really good at other games, with being so fucking sweaty when it comes to Bloodborne, Skyrim, Dark Souls, etc, it's no surprise that it's like god-tier at it. He's very good at rhythm games, but particularly they enjoy Guitar Hero and Project Diva and has perfected all songs across multiple games on maximum or higher difficulties. It also positively dominates on games like Overwatch (they are a Diva/Moira main), Super Smash Bros. (he's a Donkey Kong/Bowser main), and practically any first person shooter with online play. When it comes to first person shooters, they strictly play with other players and doesn't care about the campaign/story mode. Every now and then it'll get Johnny to join them for a round of DND or play Skyrim with him, and even though Soap isn’t nearly as experienced in the game as Ghost is, they still both have a lot of fun. Soap listening to Simon’s autistic rants pays off in some instances, like when faced with different enemies or characters he can name them or knows what they do, or he can even recall certain lore that's interesting to him. (Soap being hella ADHD, and even though he tries his best to listen he struggles with processing information, (APD gang), and often has people repeat themselves, or he just totally forgets stuff unless he's makes it a point to commit it to memory).

Soap is the complete opposite from Ghost he’s really not that much of a gamer at all, he's certainly not any good at most competitive-based games anyhow. He's into the more casual or feel good kind of games, like Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons, or any cozy life simulator type game—he even plays the Sims every once in a while. Where he’s virtually created his ideal life with Simon, a nice two story house, a couple of kids running around (two daughters).—Has meticulously outfitted and created him and Simon to be as accurate to real life as possible, as well as their two kids (Scarlett and Bonnie), (or at least what he would imagine them to look like). Even though, he absolutely loves what the two have, a man can dream. He has Ghost give their own input on the little life that he’s built for them in the Sims, and Simon will gladly give suggestions and tell him what to do with certain things, whether it’s their house, pets, clothes/accessories, etc. Johnny also always asks for name suggestions when it comes to new pets or sims. Soap has like at least 5000+ hours in Animal Crossing, on New Leaf, New Horizons, and City Folk each. With his island/towns completely decked out and decorated—with everything you can possibly think of unlocked. He’ll whip up Animal Crossing in order to destress at the end of the day, and always makes sure to login and do his daily tasks and chores on all three games (or at least when he can). He'll even take his 3DS with him on long missions (if he's able to), and if he has the time and is not too exhausted he'll play New Leaf for a bit before going to sleep. He's 100%'d Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons and Stardew Valley, his farms being as fancy as can be, though he doesn't play them nearly as much.—He'll only play for a little while before getting off. In a similar vein, Ghost will play Animal Crossing or Stardew Valley with Soap (as Johnny’s created multiple profiles across all games for them so that they can play together) every now and then. Ghost always half-jokes that he’s gonna kill Soap’s spouse in Stardew, (Harvey, because in Johnny’s eyes he’s the bachelor that looks the most like Simon), getting all jealous and possessive, and Soap thinks it’s adorable. Ghost feels like a kid again when he’s playing Animal Crossing. It's favorite villagers/characters being Stitches and Celeste, Stitches because it reminds them of an old beloved teddy bear he had as a child, and Celeste because she's adorable and because making constellations is their favorite thing to do in City Folk, plus, the zodiac themed furniture is their favorite furniture set in New Horizons. Johnny being particularly fond of Shep, and CJ/Flick, because Shep reminds him of one of his childhood dogs growing up (an Old English Sheepdog named Mack), and CJ and Flick because they remind him of him and Simon.

Another game the two will play together is Wii Sports or Wii Sports Resort. Johnny and Simon are both incredibly competitive, and will talk shit to one another during the entirety of a game—start to finish. They’ve gotten into petty spats over wounded pride or some “bullshit play”/“cheating”.

It always seems to slip Simon’s mind to put on the fucking wrist strap for the Wii remote before they start playing, so they've chucked it full force into the TV on multiple occasions. Shattering it or severely damaging it, because he’s too fucking strong for it's own good. 💀 Johnny will sometimes yell at them, and is naturally always upset, because most of the time when it happens he has to go out and buy a brand new TV, which is expensive.

"Si, baby, I love you, but please remember to put on your bloody wrist strap", he sighs.

But Soap despite his frustration can't stay mad at it for long, and forgives him shortly afterwards.

"I know ye didn't mean to", he feels horrible, because he knows that Ghost has a lot discomfort and even trauma when it comes to people yelling or screaming at them. Johnny always tries his best not to raise his voice at it, though sometimes it just comes out.

Simon starts crying, which makes Soap feel even worse and like a total dick. Though Ghost understands that sometimes Johnny can't help but raise his voice, it still triggers them. Soap goes to them almost immediately and takes him to the couch, wrapping his arms around it in a tight, but warm embrace. He holds Simon and tries his best to comfort them, whispering sweet words into his ear and telling them everything they need to hear in the moment—

“I’m not mad or anything, you know I could never stay mad at you mo chirdhe.”

“The last thing I’d ever want to do would be to hurt you, I’m so so sorry.”

“I love you more than anything, I’d give you the world and then some if I could.”

Ghost eventually calms down, its face still flushed and wet with tears. He kisses Johnny. Oh so, passionately.

“Then why don’t you prove just how much you love me?”, they say with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

“There’s nothing I’d want to do more, my sweet”, Soap chuckles. [END]

...

Oh yeah, also Johnny and Simon's favorite games to play together in Wii Sports and Wii Sports Resort respectively are golf (because they're both white as hell), and swordplay (because it's more violent and action-packed compared to the other games). Soap's favorite sports to play on his own on Wii Sports/Wii Sports Resort are baseball and archery, while Ghost likes boxing and basketball.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Wildest dreams, pt. 27

Summary: While Y/N takes a walk with Bella, Paul discovers the truth about his worst fear.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, talking about death

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

At first, it felt weird eating while the Cullens carried most of the conversation. Y/N listened to their banter and memories of their latest trip to Antarctica because Emmett decided to pick up photography as his newest college course. For such a big, confident man, Emmett shyly offered Y/N a peak into his work which she gladly accepted. 

Unlike Emmett’s photography interest, Rosalie was much more interested in talking about writing, another one of Y/N’s hobbies. She’s barely had time to write or read in years, but it’s still a dream she once hoped would come true. If she didn’t become a doctor, she’d have been an author.

Inhaling deeply, she knew the Cullen’s did their homework on her. Whether it was Jacob spilling the beans, or if Paul tried to give them solid ideas for conversation, it was painfully obvious they’ve done their best to make her comfortable in their home and she’s grateful. She didn’t know what to expect when they agreed to this get-together, but she’s put at ease now. Vampires aren’t quite as bad as movies and lore would have her think, at least vegetarians aren’t.

Placing a hand on Paul’s thigh, she takes a sip of water as she glances at him. Realizing his gaze is on her, she gives him an earnest smile of reassurance, igniting hope in his heart. He’s been more anxious than Y/N, especially whenever he felt the fear swirling in her body that kept him on edge for days now. That fear is subdued now, whether it’s real or due to Jasper’s meddling, Paul couldn’t quite tell. Either way, Paul’s relieved. Perhaps Y/N won’t be so quick to say no now.

“The food is spectacular”, Y/N dabs her lips with the napkin, “honestly.”

“Esme trained in France for a while”, Carlisle gushes. “Every winter, for ten years to be exact.”

Smiling, Esme places her hand into Carlisle’s. “And so did Carlisle. It was our favorite winter pastime.”

“And the salad was really good too”; Y/N adds quickly, glancing at Rosalie’s emerging smirk.

“I see Paul presented me in the best light.”

Chuckling, Y/N nods as Paul rolls his eyes. “Had to warn her. If she can survive hurricane Rosalie, she’ll do well with everyone else”, Paul states.

“I’m not that bad”, Rosalie argues.

Giving her a pointed look, Bella speaks up. “You terrified me!”

Grimacing, Rosalie stands. Picking up her plate, she shrugs. “I didn’t like you then”; Rosalie defends. “Her”, she points at Y/N with a smug smirk upon her face, “I like.”

“Shots fired”, Emmett exclaims, cackling.

Sharing a quick look with Paul, Y/N smiles lightly as he takes her hand under the table. “Thank you”, he mouths and she nods, wanting to tell him she loves him enough to do this for him a thousand times over but instead, she remains quiet.

“Let’s help clean up”, Renesmee says as she and Jacob stand.

“We’ll help too”, Y/N volunteers.

“I have a better idea”, Bella suggests. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Alone?” Paul frowns as Bella nods in confirmation.

“Sure”, Y/N manages a smile. Leaning in, she pecks Paul’s lips gently. “I’ll be fine.”

Swallowing thickly, Paul sighs. “If you need me”, he begins.

“I’ll call”, she smiles. “Don’t worry.”

“Impossible”, he reminds her. He always worries, awake or asleep, near or far, Paul worries.

Letting go of Paul’s warm hand, Y/N and Bella leave the kitchen.

“Would you like Jasper to follow us?” Bella asks.

Shaking her head, Y/N glances at Paul over her shoulder. He’s still looking at her with uncertainty. Despite every argument they’ve had recently, Paul barely left her side. Each and every minute only brings him more anxiety over her uncertain fate and no amount of reassuring words on her behalf will ever quell his thundering heart.

“It’s okay”, Y/N states. “Jasper doesn’t need to accompany us.”

Content with her answer, Bella leads the way. She wonders if she should have told Y/N that even though they’re going off alone, any of the Cullens wanting to listen in would be able to do just that. Their hearing is unmatched and it’s impossible for Y/N’s human legs to ever walk far enough in a simple walk to escape their abilities. It used to scare Bella as a human, having little to no privacy gets tiresome after a while, but it’s the most mundane part of her life for a long time now. In the end, Bella decides not to warn Y/N, hoping for an honest conversation. After all, didn’t Paul ask her and her family to convince Y/N to make the same choice she once made? Even if she fails, discovering reasons behind Y/N’s reluctance can only help Paul do the job himself.

Walking out onto the back deck, Bella walks down a path leading into the woods. Letting out a shuddered breath, Y/N clenches her jaw and follows after. She’s never been in the woods without Paul. Since she came back to town, Paul made certain she didn’t trek around the woods alone, even when they were still in their frenemy phase. Despite her spewing hate every chance she was given, Paul protected her.

“I’m sure you have questions”, Bella starts, “and I’m more than willing to answer anything you ask.”

Nodding, Y/N sighs. “You seem to be the only one.”

“It wouldn’t be fair otherwise”, Bella notes. “I knew what I was getting into when I asked join the family. I chose this life so I could be with Edward. I don’t regret it.”

Clearing her throat, Y/N looks at her feet. “You always knew you wanted to be one of them?”

“Since the moment I knew what they were, yes. Edward was the one who didn’t like the idea.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Y/N licks her lips. “How come?”

Smiling, Bella pauses. “He seemed to believe his kind…our kind, have lost our souls. I had a different opinion on the subject.”

“Do you still have the same opinion?”

“Becoming a vampire doesn’t change who you are”, Bella continues to walk. “Your senses are stronger, your thirst for blood is…difficult but manageable. You get a lot more time since you lose the ability to sleep, which allows you to do all you’ve ever wanted to do. Any hobby, any activity”, Bella smirks, “for however long you want.”

Pulling down her sleeves over her hands, Y/N nods. “Jacob said you didn’t have a lot of issues with controlling your thirst for blood.”

“It’s not easy, not even for me, but I had a good support system. Besides, my daughter is part human, I have no choice but to control myself.”

“And your feelings for Edward didn’t change?” Y/N looks at Bella, her eyes glossy.

“They did”, Bella smiles. “I loved him even more. Every emotion you have ever felt feels like it has no bounds once you become one of us.”

“I worry it would be different for me and Paul”, Y/N admits. “We’re bound by an imprint bond. What if feelings and memories of our past are affected by the bond? What if I say yes and become a vampire only for that bond to be severed and”, Y/N closes her eyes, covering her mouth. “I would never give up on what we have now. Death would be kinder than to find out it was all a lie.”

“Is that truly the only reason you’re hesitant?” Bella asks, her golden eyes seem almost empathic. It’s hard to tell what emotions lie underneath the surface, but she seems to care.

“I want kids”, Y/N says quietly, as if her desires are a sin. “To be there for my dad as he enters the last stages of his life and care for him”, Y/N pauses as her lips quiver. “I want to get married and to travel the world and watch as Paul grows older too. He had such a good grip on his anger and now he’s shifting again and I feel like every time he does it I lose a part of him I can never get back.” Sniffling, Y/N looks up at the sky with a lump at the back of her throat. “If I turn, he’d shift every day to keep himself from aging too and I know he hates it. So he’d spend an eternity doing what he hates? How will that not be a reason for him to resent me down the line? And not to mention me hunting animals and drinking their blood? He’d be disgusted with me! And what happens if I kill someone? If I can’t control myself and someone gets hurt, he’d hate me! I’d hate me! I spent so much time learning how to save lives, I don’t want to be a killer!”

Placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders, Bella gives her a light shake to stop her rambling. “You really gave it some thought.”

“Of course I did”, Y/N admits. “I thought of his solution before he did. But if becoming a vampire means risking what he and I have now and losing everything we both wanted our future to be…is it truly worth it?”

“You know we can ask Alice”, Bella reminds her. “She can try to see the future if you get past your fears and make a firm decision now.”

Scoffing, Y/N feels the familiar sting of tears forming in her eyes. “I can’t.”

“But you’d be okay if Paul dies when you do?” Bella gives Y/N’s shoulders a tighter squeeze before releasing her, choosing to fold her arms over her chest.

“No one knows if that’s real. It doesn’t have to be death, it could mean a million different things.”

“Sometimes, death is kinder.” Bella signs before continuing the walk.

“Was your brush with death kind?” Y/N asks. “Paul told me how it happened, but”, she pauses, “how did it feel for you?”

“Painful”, Bella answers. “I was scared and in so much pain that I’d black out several times before my heart stopped. All I remember is the smell of blood and a cry before my heart gave out.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N nods. “And the process? When the venom was in your system?”

“Far worse than anything I’ve experienced before.” Looking at Y/N, Bella smiles. “And I’d still go through with it.”

Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, Y/N blinks fast as she twirls her engagement ring over and over again. “I’m scared.”

“The pain is temporary”, Bella comforts her.

“I’m scared of what Paul’s seen”, Y/N interjects. “He has this look”, she rubs her temple before huffing. “It’s like he’s haunted by this image of my body and he barely told me what happens, only that it’s violent and”, Y/N shakes her head as a panicked giggle passes her lips. “No matter what I choose, apparently violence and pain is guaranteed.”

Frowning, Bella allows herself the freedom of wrapping an arm around Y/N, pulling her closer in an awkward side hug. “That’s true. But only one of those two options ensure you’ll live to tell the tale.”

“Bella seems to be making progress”, Edward notes.

Pacing up and down the living room, Paul nods in acknowledgment. “If she gets her to agree, tell Bella I’ll let her punch me. Without wolfing out on her this time.”

Smiling, Edward shakes his head. “She can hear you just fine.”

“Eleazar is back”, Carlisle warns Paul, showing him to the couch. “I’m sure he’d prefer the less known wolf to be seated and calm before he comes inside.”

Paul doesn’t argue, taking a seat next to Edward immediately. As soon as he sat down, the door opened. The vampire doesn’t speed up as he walks into the room like Paul’s used to. Instead, his eyes darken and focused on Carlisle.

Glancing at Edward, Paul frowns when he sees even he has lost the playfulness from earlier and his lips are pressed in a thin line.

“What am I missing here?” Paul dares to ask, his heart roaring as a new wave of anxiety rushes through his veins.

“Y/N can’t be turned”, Edward states, his eyes still glued to Eleazar.

“Speak, friend.” Carlisle sits on the couch across from Paul, watching his friend do the same.

“She’s a healer”, Eleazar spits out, as if in agony.

Almost fearful, Carlisle asks, “Like Cassandra?”

“Yes”, Eleazar confirms.

“Who the fuck is Cassandra and what does she have to do with my Y/N?” Paul raises his voice ever so slightly, his hands beginning to tremble as Carlisle turns to him.

“She was a friend with a very rare ability.”

Scoffing, Eleazar continues. “So rare that she’s the only one that’s ever had it…until now.”

“What’s so wrong with healing?” Paul furrows his eyebrows, clasping his hands in order to calm their shaking.

“Healing abilities mean being a cure all for everything in this world”, Carlisle states. “Even vampires.”

Blinking fast, Rosalie’s lips part. “She could cure vampirism?”

Swallowing thickly, Carlisle nods. “Which is what happened with Cassandra. She cured a Volturi guard by accident. She didn’t even know she could do it and when Aro found out”, Carlisle pauses, closing his eyes as Edward continues for him.

“They killed her”, Edward says. “Ripped her to shreds while she begged for mercy.”

“Then burned her so she couldn’t heal herself”, Eleazar explains bitterly. “As if she could. Truth be told, she was a cure all for humans and vampires, but she was unable to do it for herself. Cassandra never wanted to be a vampire.”

“Hold up”, Paul stands, unable to keep himself calm. “Why would they kill for curing a vampire?”

“Because she’s a threat”, Jacob sighs. “And they’ll see Y/N as a threat too.”

“A threat to what?” Paul growls. “Y/N wouldn’t go around curing vampires!”

“It’s Y/N”, Jacob reminds him. He still remembers how insistent Y/N was in helping every single animal she encountered, despite the danger to herself and she certainly never shied away from helping strangers no matter how often Jacob got mad at her for it. She’s always done the illogical, dangerous thing as long as she believed it would help someone. Sighing, Jacob continues, “She’d be unable to walk away from humans she could help and if someone”; he glances at Rosalie, “anyone asked her to cure them from vampirism, Y/N would do it.”

“Then we make sure the Volturi never find out about her”, Paul exclaims. “We would be the only ones aware of this healing ability she might have in case she chooses to turn.”

“Arlo would know”, Edward remarks. “Even if you tried to hide it and all of us managed to escape him reading our minds, eventually someone Y/N decides to help would tell another living soul and you’d have a wildfire of rumors spreading across the world and Arlo would be at your door within a day.”

Slamming his fist on the table, Paul shouts, “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

“Live whatever time you have left to the fullest”, Eleazar says, earning himself a glare from Jacob.

"No," Paul mutters to himself, his voice a low growl, as if the very act of denying it could change the truth. How can he accept this?

He glances around the lavish room, his gaze landing on the grand piano by the corner, the ornate furniture, and the exquisite artwork on the walls. None of it means anything to him, it can’t anchor him as his thoughts are running rampant. All he can think about is her, his imprint, the woman he would do anything for.

His heart pounds in his chest, a mixture of fear and desperation twisting his insides. He can hear the faint sound of his own breath, rapid and uneven, as his thoughts race. He wishes he can just phase into his wolf form, let the transformation release some of this overwhelming emotion. But he can't do that here, not in this place.

The realization hits him like a wave crashing against the shore—he’s helpless. There is nothing he can do, no way to save her. He’s always prided himself on being strong, on being the protector. But now, faced with this situation, he feels powerless.

He closes his eyes, his hands trembling. Images of her flash in his mind—her smile, the sound of her voice when she talks about him, the way she looks at him with eyes full of love, even when he makes her angry. He feels a lump form in his throat as the weight of his emotions threaten to overwhelm him. He had imprinted on her, their souls forever bound, and yet he can't save her.

A growl of frustration rumbles in his chest, the sound barely contained. He wants to throw this table he’s gripping straight out of a window, to unleash his anger in a physical way. He wants to let his wolf instincts take over, to tear through the room, to howl his pain to the heavens. But he can't. Not here.

With a deep breath, he tries to steady himself. He knows that losing control won't help her, none of it will change the situation.

“If you want to and Y/N is willing to join our family, I don’t see a reason why we wouldn’t try”, Rosalie states, shocking Paul to his core. She’s likely doing this in order to have a promise of a cure for herself, but he still appreciates it.

“It would be like a putting a target on our backs for an eternity”, Emmett argues with her.

“Renesmee, Edward, Bella and Alice all have exceptional abilities that already put targets on our family. What’s one more?”

Emmett shakes his head, giving Rosalie a pointed look. “There’s a real chance it could be one too many.”

“Leaving her to this fate would be cruel”, Esme argues.

Desperate, Rosalie looks at her sister. “Alice?”

With a blank look, Alice shrugs. “I can’t see anything. As long as Y/N is undecided, we”, Alice pauses, her eyes widening as she gasps loudly. “NO”, she shouts at Rosalie who takes a step back.

Edward grabs her forearm firmly, stopping her from running off. “You can’t.”

“What is it Alice”, Jasper asks, rubbing her arm up and down.

“Rosalie made the decision instead”, Alice frowns. “If she were to turn Y/N, it would start a war with the Volturi. I don’t know how, but they’d know of her abilities. Soon.” With a shiver running down her spine, Alice looks to Paul with sorrow in her eyes. “Even if Y/N doesn’t turn, the mere promise of what she could become will be enough for the Volturi to act with lethal force.”

Covering his face, Jacob shakes his head. “Are you telling me that she’d have been fine if we didn’t try to convince Y/N to become a vampire?”

Paul remains quiet as he can't shake off the gnawing realization that his actions, his reckless words, have set in motion a chain of events that will ultimately lead to the very thing he's been desperately trying to prevent. He’s the reason she dies.

His fingers grip his hair in frustration, his dark eyes burning with a mix of anger and fear. Every step she takes now feels like a countdown, each heartbeat echoing a haunting reminder of the impending danger. He never meant for any of this to happen, never intended to put her life at risk.

Out there, in the woods, Y/N walks alongside Bella Swan, unaware of the storm that rages within Paul's heart. He can almost hear her laughter, a sound that's both beautiful and agonizing. He pictures her smile, her eyes lighting up with joy, and he can't help but let out a guttural growl. How can he bear the weight of knowing what's to come?

It’s my fault.

“It’s not your fault”, Edward tries, but it’s of no use.

His hands ball into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms as if the pain might help him focus, might offer some sort of release from the torment of his thoughts. He wants to reach out to her, to grab her and pull her away from the path that leads to danger. His instinct is to be her shield, her guardian, to keep her safe at any cost.

I killed her.

Paul's breath comes in short, ragged gasps as he struggles to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. He's barely holding it together, his emotions a tumultuous whirlwind that threatens to consume him. He wants to break something, to let out the howl of agony that's building up inside him. But he can't. He can't let anyone see the depth of his pain. Edward and Jasper feel it, they share his agony unwillingly, but the rest will not see him fall apart.

I did this.

He closes his eyes, and for a moment, he imagines holding Y/N in his arms, comforting her, protecting her from the darkness that looms ahead. His heart aches at the thought, a deep ache that resonates through every fiber of his being. He wishes he could be there with her, to whisper in her ear that he's here, that he'll always be here.

I’m so sorry.

As the minutes tick by, he fights the overwhelming urge to phase, to run into the woods and find her, to be with her and shield her from the world ending, because that’s what it feels like. But Paul knows that he can't, he’s not safe to be around now as his body trembles violently. He’s a coward, allowing himself to succumb to the need of shifting, abandoning Y/N in this mess of his making.

Forgive me.

Without a word, Paul rushes to the door. Slamming it behind him, he runs toward the woods as his human bounds are ripped apart and the wolf takes over once again.

_________________

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A/N: I promised angst, didn’t I? Let me know what you think about this one, and as always if anyone wants to be tagged (or have their tag removed) just send an ask or leave a comment, just make sure your blog visibility settings are on and that your blog hasn’t been flagged (blurry pfp is usually your clue that you have been flagged) as those are most common reasons why tumblr won’t let you be tagged. Also keep in mind changing your @ might mean you lose your tag since I can’t track everyone down when that happens. 

PART 28

[shalomniscient]

sevchino on the brain again !! kind of obsessed with my self-insert lore as arle’s adjutant like… it opens up so many opportunities for a lot of fun moments, i feel. like for example, imagine arle on a business deal.

she sits across from the other party on a lavish red couch, one arm resting on the back of the couch and the other on her lap, her legs crossed over her knee. she watches with cold, bored eyes as the man before her rattles on about how it would be beneficial to her to partner with him. he’s a minor noble of fontaine, but dresses like he’s iudex himself.

actually, no. the iudex dresses with more class. between the ridiculously elaborate top hat and the golden monocle chain, the man looks horrendously tacky.

she cuts off his prattling with a single raised hand. “that’s enough. the fatui will take 75% of the profits, and you will take remainder.”

“y-you—“ the man splutters, turning red, “that’s ridiculous! do you hear yourself?”

“it is perfectly reasonable,” arlecchino drawls. “you wish to do business under the protection of the fatui. this does not come cheap, nor easy.”

“what i can give you is invaluable—“

“a minor standing in the court of fontaine, and a few agents of the maison gardenniage in your pocket,” she sighs, glancing at her nails. “a pitiful exchange, in truth. our relations with the spina di rosula are far more rewarding for far less cost.”

the man’s face goes from red to purple with rage, and arlecchino wonders how amusing it would be to see the veins on his forehead burst. it would be the most interesting thing she has seen from him today. instead, he makes the stupidest mistake he possibly could.

“listen here, you fatui cunts—“ he spits, like a fool.

thankfully, you are there to swiftly correct him.

BANG

the sound of a gunshot thunders in the room, but arlecchino doesn’t flinch. you hold your gun steady from where you stand behind arlecchino’s couch, the smoking barrel only inches away from her cheek. she tilts her head back to look at you stare the man down the nose of your gun, murder in your eyes, and arlecchino thinks you have never been more beautiful.

once over his initial shock, the man manages to strangled laugh. he is not dead, and he seems to have foolishly taken it as a victory. “you missed,” he sneers, but the sweat collecting on his brow is telling of his fear. though, it wasn’t as if arlecchino couldn’t smell it off him in the first place.

arlecchino only hums, and the man’s brow furrows. he shifts in his seat—and then his monocle falls right off his eye and into his lap. he freezes properly then, staring at the piece of eyewear—but most importantly, the cleanly severed gold chain.

arlecchino grins as the man’s face morphs into one of abject terror once he truly realises how close to death he had come. only a few milimeters off and that bullet would have been lodged in the artery of his neck, and painted the couch he was on even redder with his blood. he swallows, hands trembling now as arlecchino leans forward, the red crosses in her eyes seeming to grow as she looks down on him.

“i suggest you remember to watch your words next we meet, monsieur. because my adjutant will not miss a second time.”

[kcwriter-blog]

Another Take on Solas' Conversation About the Dalish and Other Things

I know I’m preaching to the choir, but I’ve been seeing enough negative takes on Solavellan and Solasmancers in general on my dash that I feel the need to vent a little. I realize that most negative takes boil down to “I hate this ship and there is something very wrong with you if you like it” and I mostly ignore them but this time I have a few thoughts to share under the cut.

As far as I can tell, the dislike starts with the conversation between Solas and the Inquisitor about the Dalish. Apparently, this comes off as condescending? I’m pretty sure the people that use that word don’t know what it means. The way Vivienne speaks to the Inquisitor is condescending. Solas is just angry and bitter. 

If he were being condescending, the conversation would be more along the lines of “My dear, I understand that having grown up among the Dalish, you are going to be a bit biased, but really you can’t possibly believe that the Dalish know everything there is to know about their history.” Condescension is being simultaneously polite and catty. It’s The Game.

Back to the conversation. Solas tells Lavellan on the way to the Temple of Ashes that his dealings with the Dalish did not go well. He tried to tell them about their history, they didn’t like what he had to say because it contradicted their beliefs, and they tossed him out on his “flat” ears. He also says that the Dalish did not believe he was one of them. 

He’s understandably bitter but not entirely for the reasons we think. Yes, part of it is about ego, but mostly it’s about how closed-minded the Dalish are. Solas hates closed mindedness. He values curiosity and he is willing to debate ideas. He went to the Dalish because as the self-proclaimed keepers of elvish lore and the people searching to reclaim their lost history, he thought they would not only listen but be excited to learn more. They weren’t.

When Lavellan asks about his views on elven culture, he lashes out. Not because he thinks she’s stupid but because he expects her to be as closed-minded as the Dalish he has already met. 

Lavellan for her part can react in several different ways. People that don’t like the romance assume that the top option where she calls him ha’ren is her agreeing with him. It isn’t.

I used to work in human resources back in the dinosaur age. My job was to listen to employee complaints and keep them from suing the company. I was taught how to make an employee think I was on their side without actually agreeing with them. That’s what I think the top response is. She needs his expertise. She needs him to be on her side. Antagonizing him doesn’t help her so she decides to diffuse the situation. 

She addresses him respectfully. Then she says, “If the Dalish have done you a disservice.” She isn’t saying, “Yeah dude they were jerks.” She is saying If (a conditional) which roughly translates to “I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened, but you seem pretty upset.” She isn’t agreeing just acknowledging his feelings. 

She continues with “I would make that right.” She knows he’s upset because they didn’t listen to him. It costs her nothing to say, “I’m willing to listen and keep an open mind.” That’s all she is saying. She doesn’t say she is going to believe him. She is not going to go out among the Dalish and preach the gospel of Solas. She’s just willing to listen. 

She then turns it back on him. She asks a question. “What course would you set for them?” Again, she’s not agreeing with him. She’s simply asking him to stop bitching and figure out how the Dalish could do what he is suggesting.

The end result is that Solas apologizes, recognizes that there isn’t a way for the Dalish to do what he wants them to do and settles down. Is he still salty? Sure. He also recognizes he shouldn’t take that out on Lavellan. 

Most of Solas’ conversations with Lavellan run along the same lines. He tells her about the pre-Veil world, she says “It sounds like it would be wonderful.” Again, not agreeing that it was, just that the way he describes it sounds wonderful. There are a lot of other examples. 

Basically, Lavellan is smart and canny. She can meet Solas as an equal on his own ground. She is willing to admit he knows stuff she doesn’t and to take his advice if it seems sound. She doesn’t have to, and yeah, he can be salty about that, but the only reason we don’t know if your other advisors disapprove of you disagreeing with them is that their approval system is hidden. 

You can disagree with him and still gain enough approval to trigger the romance etc. All you have to do is ask questions, keep an open mind, help other people and be merciful when you sit in judgement. It’s not that hard. 

I’ve heard it said that he treats her like a child who doesn’t know anything. Hello? Is there another Fade expert in the house? Does your Lavellan know everything there is to know about The Fade, spirits and demons? No. No more than she knows about spying, the nobility or directing an army. No one thinks what Cullen tells the Inquisitor is condescending or treating her like she is a child or an idiot. Also Solas does know a lot of things she doesn‘t because he was there. He is sharing that info. He won’t share it if you don’t ask him questions about it. 

Another charge. Solas is cold. He is certainly aloof but in his post-Fade kiss conversation with Lavellan he is almost playful. He is concerned about where it might lead but he is almost happy. He admits he isn’t usually thrown by things that happen in dreams, but he is “reasonably certain we are awake, now and he would enjoy talking.” That’s not someone cold and aloof. That is someone reaching out.

Another charge. Solas makes Lavellan chase him. Nope. As attracted as Solas is to Lavellan he would much rather she focus her attentions elsewhere. That’s why he asks for time to think. He’s hoping she will wander off and flirt with someone else. Lavellan drives the relationship. He gives in against his better judgement. It isn’t a game to him.  

Another comment is that you have to work hard and break down a lot of barriers to romance him. Um, yes? He is constantly saying he has trust issues. If Lavellan wants to pursue a relationship knowing that, then she only has herself to blame for the outcome. 

I’ll just end by saying I was in a truly toxic, emotionally abusive relationship. Not the kind of relationship where you get a drink with friends and say “Yeah he was totally toxic.” The kind of relationship where you need professional therapy to deal with it. If anyone is going to be triggered by that romance it would be me. I’m not. I know what it is like to be condescended to, to have someone constantly say or imply that you are incompetent and worthless. Solas doesn’t do those things. He is impressed by her, he admires her, he thinks she is competent enough to go to when he needs help. He tells her that. Trust me, an emotional abuser does none of those things. 

Anyway, thanks for listening. 

[noxturnalpascal]

What's at Stake

(Vampire!)MaxPhillips x (VampireHunter!)F!Reader (7.8K)

Fic Exchange - Request Suggestion:  readers a vampire hunter, one night she’s killed a bunch trying to take down Max, he casually strolls into area “All that blood looks good on you, brings out your eyes.” Hate fucking/ enemies to lovers esque, have fun with it 

Merry Christmas @xdaddysprincessxx 💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers. Slow Burn. Made Up Vampire Lore. Monster fucking. Talk of blood, biting, sucking, and bleeding.

Struggling against the bindings holding you to the office chair, you try to ignore his whining voice prattling on about how you ruined everything. Sat in the middle of an abandoned office building, you look around the room for any kind of weapon, for an exit, for a way out of your predicament. Suddenly his breathy chuckle is right at your ear. 

“I told ya that if ya kept fuckin’ sniffin’ around, the Boss wasn’t gonna like it, didn’t I?” he whispers.

You turn your head away from his hot breath fanning across your cheek, smelling like cinnamon and nutmeg.

“But you’re too goddamn stubborn to listen to me, aren’t ya?” he continues as he rounds your chair and grabs your face.

Fuck you, Max. You mutter between his squeezing palm. You’re pretty sure he understood you by the way he devilishly grins.

“We don’t have time for that unfortunately sweetheart,” he lets out an exaggerated sigh, “and what a shame that is.”

He rakes his gaze over you from head to toe. You feel the urge to shudder, but resist. However, you can’t stop the goosebumps from breaking out all over your skin. How is he doing this? Letting go of your face, he turns towards the guys behind you, the same ones who brought you into this room. He speaks to them in rapid Romanian. Your Romanian is pretty shit but you’re pretty sure you hear the words “deep” and “water.” 

This doesn’t bode well for you. He’s been pacing back and forth along the floor, chastising you for not listening to him, since you were brought in here hand-cuffed, leg-cuffed, and dripping red from head to toe. You think he might be a little angry that you just took out a small cadre - only two dozen human men - of his boss’ protection detail. Or maybe he’s mad about the way you hacked their security system so easily. 

Now that you're thinking about it though, he’s probably mainly pissed that you killed no less than eight of his family - vampires - just to get the necessary information on where his boss was holed up. It’s not your fault the first seven were so loyal that they didn’t give you what you needed. Maybe if he had more disloyal family members, you wouldn’t have had to kill so many of them. 

He brings his face towards yours again, wafting his scent over you. He smells like crisp air, a warm hearth, and baked goods. Max leans his face in so his lips are just brushing the skin over your jugular and inhales deeply. He lets a low mmmmmm rumble from his mouth before he slowly licks a stripe up the side of your neck, tasting the blood drying on your skin.

“You come in here, trussed up and marinated like a fuckin’ Christmas Goose, and what? You think I’m not gonna take a bite?” He grazes his teeth over your neck. “Cuz sweetheart, ya really look good enough to eat.”

You let him continue on with his little charade. You know this is all for show, more a display of dominance for the men behind you than anything else. He’s not going to drink your blood. You both know that your blood, like the blood of the long line of Vampire Hunters before you, tastes disgusting to him and anyone like him. That’s not to say he couldn’t drink it. But most vampires - Max included - are far too vain to drink five pints of something they can’t stomach.

Honestly you’re more worried about this whole “deep water” thing. 

“Can we skip this part and just get to the part where you reluctantly let me go only for me to inevitably find you again later?”

You hope the smug sarcasm you laid on covered up the desperation in your question.

“Not this time sweetheart,” he murmurs, digging through some paperwork on his desk. 

He picks up a single file folder and shouts more orders in Romanian, causing five men with garbage bags to come into the room. They open the file cabinets and desk drawers and start removing any and all paperwork, stuffing them into the bags. The three men behind you grab you out of the chair and you can’t help the surprised squeal that escapes your lips. 

“Hey, take it easy!” Max barks at them. Gripping you tight, they lower you to stand on the ground in front of him.

“I tried to warn ya sweetheart, I really did,” He brushes his thumb over your lips, gathering some still wet blood drops, and brings his thumb into his mouth to suck on the tip of it. “Goddamn, you look so fuckin’ good all covered in blood like this. It really brings out your eyes.”

He winks.

You sit up in bed in a sweat, panting heavily. You look around the room, eyes straining to focus in the dim light coming through the windows. You check the alarm clock. Just past 3am. Same as yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. No big deal, you just have the same fucking dream every single night. 

It’s probably fair to classify it as a nightmare at this point. The worst part isn’t the dream - one of your biggest failures. It isn’t who’s in the dream - arguably your arch nemesis. It isn’t even the memories it evokes - you struggling to fight for your life after being pushed off a cliff into a deep quarry lake and left to die. No, the worst part is that every night you wake up with soaking wet fucking panties. 

Max Fucking Phillips. How is he still doing this to you, all this time later?

You get up to check your email and for any replies to your posts on dozens of internet message boards. Nothing. The trail is cold. Ice cold. You have no clue where to look, you’ve been wandering aimlessly for months. The only thing warm are your thoughts of Max, plaguing your dreams each night.

Most vampires measure their age in decades, fewer measure it in centuries. But not Max’s maker. Zeno, or “the Boss,” as he’s affectionately called, measures his age in Millenia. You once heard that he’d bragged about hanging out with Alexander the Great, so it wouldn’t surprise you to learn that he saw the beheading of Kings and Queens, fought in the crusades, or gave military advice to Attila the Hun. 

He’s probably not even the oldest vampire to exist, if you think about it. He’s not the richest, not the most powerful, he’s not even the most evil. But he is the bane of your existence and the target of every one of your hunts. He’s also the fucker who killed nearly every relative of yours that ever tried to take him down, including your parents.

He’s the vampire that your family has been chasing for generations, ever since a failed turn rendered your great-great-great-great something into this - thing - he’s passed down the line. Not quite vampire, not quite human. Not a drinker of blood, but always thirsty. You aren’t immortal, you don’t have powers, and your regular teeth get regular checkups at the dentist. 

But your family is driven by a deep-seated hunger, both destined and cursed to seek out Zeno. Led by deep, instinctual urges, you’ve all stalked him across the ages, longing and needing to draw yourself closer to him. It was once explained to you that the craving you constantly feel is a vampire’s way of keeping those he’s fed on - both his victims and those he sired - close to him. 

It’s a false sense of loyalty. One that you and your family stopped feeling a long, long time ago. You especially, having been orphaned at 13, felt nothing but fury and hatred for this monster. He killed most of your family in one fell swoop. One night he came for vengeance and found it by taking your grandparents, 3 aunts, 4 uncles, 7 cousins, mother, and father away from you. Your Uncle Oz, maimed and having barely escaped the carnage, hasn’t left his house since.

It took you over a year to convince him to complete the training your father had started, giving you a chance to stand against this creature. In the last 15 years you’ve chased him around the globe, always catching his shadow as he turns a corner, never actually catching him. The closest you ever came was nearly five months ago, in California. 

After spending nearly two years searching the web, running down leads, questioning entranced villagers, and staking any vampire you came across, you’d finally gotten the lead you needed. A mid-level leech in an expensive suit had sung like a canary - turns out he had an unfortunate intolerance to allium in his mortal life that was severely exacerbated after his transformation.

His tip had landed you in a remote area south of San Francisco just after sunrise. You easily disabled the complicated security system, having spent months preparing for this exact moment. The next part you also planned for, taking out his human guards with well-placed, simple improvised explosive devices. Daytime afforded you some protection against dealing with his army of vampire followers while outside of the compound.

Once you got inside though, it was a different story. Your half-year of preparations went out the window when you were promptly overwhelmed by the loyal little fuckers crawling out of their coffins to protect their master. You’re not sure where your planning failed you, if it was their supernatural strength or just their sheer numbers. Either way, it landed you right where you didn’t want to be, in front of Max.

You’d dealt with Max before, he’d caught you sneaking around about a half dozen times now, sniffing around for a trail but still far behind your main target. He’d snatch you up by the scruff of your neck and give you a bonk on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. At least that’s what it felt like. It felt like a fun little game the two of you played.

He’d always been flirty with you, dripping with smarmy charisma, but you didn’t let yourself fall for him. He was the enemy. You hated the way a dimple on his right cheek would come out when he gave you his signature smile with a wink. You hated the way he would make you forget about your dead parents for a while. You hated the way it would burn after he’d drag his fingers across your skin.

Hate him as you may, you felt like he understood you better than most people could. He knew what it was like to feel an uncontrollable urge. He also seemed to have a soft spot for you. He’d listened to you break down in tears once about your family and, to your surprise, didn’t judge you. He even once drove you to the hospital himself, dropping you off outside the ER after you fell two stories and broke your leg.

You actually thought he might be impressed last time with how close you got. Zeno was in the building, you were in the building. You’d never been so close. And yet, you accomplished nothing. Max shook his head at you once again, but this time he didn’t let you off with just a warning. He ordered his goons to execute you. It wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t a game.

Fuck him for ever making you feel playful. Fuck him for making you feel anything. Definitely fuck him for invading your dreams. Fuck. Him. The next time you saw Max Phillips, you were going to kill him. One less bloodsucking bastard standing in your way.

Several weeks later you find yourself in a seedy area of Moscow, dodging down alleyways and avoiding passing cars. You’d enlisted your Uncle Oz for help and he finally, reluctantly agreed, going so far as to hook you up with some old contacts of his. You’d been told about an increase in vampire activity in Russia, which of course the police and the news media would call something else; Missing Persons, Psychotic Slashers, Animal Attacks. 

You knew better. These were the telltale signs of Zeno’s army of bloodthirsty assholes moving into the area and eating their way through the local population. Typically they’d show up in waves and begin fucking, sucking, killing, and turning, strengthening their bodies and their numbers. You had no way of knowing if the Boss was among them, but it was your only lead.

Avoiding the streetlights as best you can, you continue to dart down side roads, struggling to read the signs and addresses in an alphabet so different from your own. Finally, you come across a building with the same number on the front as you have scrawled inside your palm. No business name on the outside, two stories tall, with every single window painted black.

This has to be it.

You zip around to the back, keeping your head on a swivel, looking around and above you for any kind of security detail. You don’t see anyone. There’s not even any security cameras on the building. Your confidence starts to wane. Reaching the back loading dock you easily pick a lock and throw the door open.

Slowly padding through the largest of the rooms, you no longer quiet your footsteps in the clearly abandoned building. You hear a phone ringing but there’s no one here to answer it. There hasn’t been anyone here in a while. Chairs lay overturned on the floor, several of the lights flicker with dying bulbs, and an acrid smell still lingers in the room.

At least 30 desks sit empty, computer monitors on every one but all of the CPUs yanked away, their cords still stretched out on the floor. A large garbage bin in the middle of the room, filled with what was once the computers, is the source of the smell and also a large black ring burned into the floor below and ceiling above.

Following a scant trail of papers left on the floor, you’re led to an office at the back corner. The still-ringing phone sits on an empty desk with nothing else but a single piece of paper. Scrawled on the sheet are the words answer me. This is a new game.

You pick up the phone. Silence. You say nothing. Then you hear several clicks.

“Hey sweetheart, ya there?”

Fucking Max, of course. You say nothing. You’re not giving him the satisfaction-

“S’okay, ya don’t have to answer me. I already know it’s you.”

You grind your teeth.

“Good job catchin’ up with our little operation there in Moscow. Unfortunately you’re about three weeks too late.” You can almost hear his fake pout. “Also, the Boss? He was never even there so I’m not sure where you’re getting your information from. I’d be questioning the allegiance of my sources if I were you, cuz they seem a little unreliable.”

You shake your head. Smug asshole.

“Anyways sweetheart, I won’t keep ya. I just thought it’d been a while since we last talked so I wanted to see how you were doin’. I guess you could say I missed ya.”

“I’m doing fucking great considering you tried to have your idiot henchmen drown me,” you bite. You can’t help yourself. You’re pissed off at him and proud of yourself for surviving at the same time. You want to rub it in his face. He failed. He wants to rub your failure in your face? Fine. Two can play that game. “Too bad I’m a better swimmer than you thought, huh?”

“You’re absolutely right sweetie. It was such a disappointment to find out you survived that night, instead of dyin’ in that deep water that I told my idiot henchmen to throw ya in. It’s not like I could’ve known what a strong swimmer ya were. How could I know that?”

Your brows knit. There’s no way.

“I obviously would have no way of knowin’ that ya won a state championship two years in a row on your high school’s swim team.”

Your jaw drops open.

He says your name. Your heart stops. He never calls you by your fucking name. 

“Stay outta trouble.” The line goes dead. 

You jump as the remaining lights turn off, shrouding you in complete darkness.

It’s been nearly a year since your not-so-near miss in Moscow. Your uncle, scared for your safety, convinced you to come back home and take a short break. You’d planned to stay for a month and when it turned into two and then three, he didn’t comment on it. Although once you hit the six month mark, he started calling you his roommate, no matter how much you rolled your eyes.

You’d never taken this amount of time “off” your hunts before. Sure, you were still scouring message boards and chasing down leads but you were doing it all from a computer chair. You used to actually chase them down, using planes, trains, or automobiles. You didn’t mean to sit still this long, it wasn’t in your nature, but you keep hearing Max’s words buzzing in your ear.

Stay outta trouble.

Your dreams have lessened in frequency since Moscow, though not in intensity. He still has the same effect on you, waking up with your body screaming for his touch. Now the dreams aren’t just of the night in California, the dreams have evolved. You thought that you’d welcome a change, any change, to the monotony. But since the dreams are basically just sex-dreams now, you’re slightly annoyed by them.

You’re not really as annoyed as you pretend to be, but it is disturbing that you’re fantasizing about an undead monster; not that it’s interfering with your non-existent social life. You actually downloaded a dating app and went on a few dates. You’re a quirky gal, so that’s what you attract. And you don’t mind it. But even peculiar guys get weirded-out when you try to explain what you do for a living. Several first dates, zero second dates.

So you spend a lot of time alone, or with your Uncle Oz, who is terrible company - sitting in his living room recliner in a stained shirt, eating TV dinners and watching reruns of NCIS. He tells you to get a real job - as if you were even good at anything else. He tells you to go out and make friends - as if anyone would understand you. He tells you that the clawing ache you feel deep inside ‘gets better’ with time.

You don’t believe him. You know he still feels it just as strongly as he always did. It’s just that he’s scared now, and the paralyzing grip of that fear is stronger than the pang of vacancy that sits deep in his core. Sometimes you think you can feel the fear too, prickling at the edges. It feels like icy-cold fingers reaching around the edges of your mind and body, freezing your thoughts, holding you down.

Every day you stay up until 3, sometimes 4 in the morning, fighting against that fear. You practice your Romanian, earning little rewards in your DuoLingo app. You message back and forth with other hunters, working together designing new weapons in the fight against these monsters. You hack into local cameras around the world, using every tool at your disposal to search for that face in the dark. Max. No, wait. Zeno. You’re hunting Zeno. 

It's a sunny late-September morning, just after noon, when you’re awoken by a strange ringtone. You sit up in bed, fumbling to reach your cell phone only to find it tucked under your pillow in silence. The ringing continues. What the-? A memory springs to your mind - of your uncle trying to throw his old phone in the trash but you grabbing it instead - just in case. 

You throw open the bottom drawer of your nightstand and grab the phone just as it stops ringing. You consider calling the number back but the low battery warning is flashing and you don’t remember where the old charger for this thing is at the moment. You wait a moment longer and when the voicemail notification flashes, you dial in to listen.

What you hear is a choppy message left with a bad connection. The person speaking has a thick accent but you’re sure you hear them say the name that makes your blood run cold - Zeno. You run out to the living room and make your uncle listen to the message no less than nine times before he can tell you anything about it.

He’s pretty sure it’s an old contact of his named Mo, who used to live in Cairo. 

Less than 36 hours later you find yourself in a bustling area just outside of Cairo. Tired from the lack of sleep in the tiny budget airline seats, you give the cab driver the wrong address. This is how you find yourself pushing your suitcase down the street, fumbling with your phone to get to your uncle’s emails. 

Unable to reach Mo back and not wanting to lose any time on the lead, you got on the next flight that would eventually land you in Egypt. Concerned with your safety, Oz had promised to stay on the case from back home and update you. Unwilling to wait until you get to the hotel, you punch away at the phone screen, trying to connect to a local mobile network.

You blame your exhaustion for the way you don’t even hear the motorbike riding along the sidewalk behind you. Three people jump off it, point a gun at you, and grab all of your stuff. They snatch your luggage, your phone, they even take your airplane pillow. They’ve piled back on the bike and ridden away before you even process what just happened.

You blink slowly and before you can begin to panic, you remember the emergency cash you keep stuffed in your pockets. You are too exhausted to think or do anything right now. Tomorrow you can get a new phone, you can call your uncle and get money wired, you can continue on with your chase. Tonight, you just need to check into your hotel.

Not surprisingly, you have a fitful dream, but what does surprise you is the subject of the dream. You’re not being tossed around in cheap economy seating. You’re not being mugged at gun-point by strangers in the night. Hell, you’re not even being seduced by a disarmingly attractive vampire in a three-piece-suit. 

You’re being chased. Like the kind of dream-chase where you run endlessly but make it nowhere. He bears down on you and you scream the kind of dream-scream, where your mouth is wide open but no sound comes out. He grabs you with his bony hands and you throw the kind of dream-punch where it feels like you’re fighting underwater. There is no escape.

You can’t see the face of the creature running you down in the dark, but you already know who it is. You would know him anywhere, anytime, even with your eyes closed. It’s Zeno. You know because even though your dream-legs are running away as fast as they can carry you, everything else in your body is screaming to turn and run the other way, to run towards him.

Max steps off the private plane onto the tarmac and almost immediately plops into the waiting SUV. It wasn’t a long flight but he’s not in a great mood, even the in-flight-meal - he thinks her name was Yulia - didn’t lift his spirits. He isn’t used to being summoned in the middle of the night like this by his boss, especially when everything has been going so well. 

The boss had been traveling around the Mediterranean, visiting some of his old stomping grounds, while Max had set up their new operation in the Greek Isles. Beautiful country with a rich history, and his office had a killer view - even at night. He was almost glad you blew up their spot in San Francisco. All was going according to plan, every i was dotted and every t crossed.

But now the boss was calling him to Egypt for an emergency meeting. It’s probably some kind of promotion, also known as ‘more work’. Max was one of the younger members of Zeno’s family but his keen nose for business and his shrewd sensibilities quickly made him a favorite. Even before you were killing off his competition, he was rising quickly within the ranks.

He checks his phone again for the hundredth time in the last day and a half. He’s been tracking you for the last 16 months, ever since that night in California. For the last year he’s watched you barely leave a five-block radius… until yesterday, when you traveled to your local airport. He’s been watching but hasn’t seen your signal pop back up since.

Where the fuck are you? 

He knows you haven’t found where he is, none of your internet searches have pointed you anywhere near his trail. He’s also positive that you don’t have the faintest clue where the boss is. Hell, until he was beckoned by private jet several hours ago, Max wasn’t even sure exactly where he was. Max has worked hard to make sure he’s ten steps ahead of you. It makes it easier this way. Easier to keep the boss happy. Easier to keep you safe. 

Max is led inside an old, abandoned temple, lit only by the near-full moon streaming in through the unglazed windows. The structure was built into the side of a rock formation that clearly wasn’t as close to the river as it is now. Now, water weeps from the rocks that form the walls, dripping down and creating undulating rivers across the uneven floor. 

Zeno stands in the center of the room, tall and gaunt, bent slightly over an altar.

The Boss starts talking, Max assumes to him, about ‘purpose’. They’ve had conversations like this before. When Max isn’t meeting the boss’ expectations, this is how he frames it. The shuddersome creature believes that all of his creations - the vampires he’s turned - are a reflection of him. Therefore, they must all be willing to ‘achieve greatness at any cost.’ 

He turns around and steps towards Max, cradling a figure in his arms covered by a black shroud. Max looks down at it, waiting for the boss to speak. When he says nothing, Max decides to ask.

“What’s this?”

“This is to remind you of your purpose,” the boss whispers, his voice a rasp, barely audible in the empty, echoing chamber.

“I already ate on the plane.”

“This isn’t for you, this is for me. I have plans.” His voice carries the final consonant like a hiss.

Whenever Zeno has plans, that means Max has more work. As if he doesn’t have enough work to do already, running the boss’s entire empire practically by himself. The ancient monster has lofty expectations, but is completely uninterested in the day-to-day mundanity of maintaining a global undead supremacy.

“What do you need, boss?”

“Complete the turn,” his voice scratches against Max’s eardrums, “make her your own.” 

Max has turned vampires before, always at the behest of Zeno. He doesn’t relish doing it, nor is he consumed by the same desire his boss has to build up an army of loyal followers. He reaches over and pulls down on the shroud, revealing the pale face beneath.

Your face.

Max tries not to react but he’s sure his pupils dilate, betraying him.

“What’s this?” Max asks again, attempting but failing an even-toned voice.

“You don’t recognize her?” Zeno asks, already knowing the answer.

“I recognize her.”

Of course he recognizes you. Your face, your smell, even the twitch of your lips as you sleep is familiar to him. You occupy his thoughts constantly, and have for quite a while.

“You told me you took care of her.”

“I did.” Max looks him in his cloudy, lifeless eyes.

“I understand ‘taking care of someone’ to mean that they’ve been e-lim-in-at-ed,” Zeno slowly draws out the last word.

“It wasn’t... I had her under control,” Max hates that he even has to explain himself right now. It’s all been handled.

“had?”

“Well…. I’m not sure what she’s doing here.” He looks down at your face, watching you take shallow breaths. “I thought-”

“I called her here. It was so easy,” the fiend lowers his face to yours, running his pointed nose along your cheek. Max winces. “She wants to be here with me. She craves it.”

Max tries not to shudder at his words. He hates the thought of you being beholden to Zeno in any way. He had been trying so hard to keep you out of his clutches. In the silence he hears a dripping noise, closer than the drips coming down the walls. He looks down at his feet and notices a pool of dark liquid, rivulets of water running through it.

He pulls at the dark shroud and it falls off your legs, revealing a steady stream of blood dripping down your inner calf. He continues to pull away the fabric and sees the white shift you wear stained deep red at the source of the blood. What appears to be a bite wound, barely concealed by the thin material, sits high on the inside of your thigh.

Max has to tamp down the rage inside him about to boil over. Zeno has taken it upon himself to drain you of blood in preparation to turn you and he did it by putting his mouth where only a lover’s mouth should go. He had no fucking right to touch you like that. He has no fucking right to touch you at all.

“I think she’s your weakness, Max,” the elder one scoffs.

“She’s nothing-”

“Don’t lie,” Zeno growls. “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

Max grits his teeth, unable to respond. 

“Turn her. Turn her and then she’ll actually be under your control. And then we’ll have some real fun.” The moonlight glints off the demon’s teeth and Max meets his dead eyes once again and he knows. He knows that the boss wants to make you immortal so he can hurt you over and over until the end of time. So he can punish you. So he can order Max to hurt you. So he can punish you both.

He knows he has no other choice.

You remember falling asleep atop the crisp sheets of your hotel bed, a warm breeze gently blowing through the open window. The next thing you remember is waking up with a splitting headache. A grating noise in your ears, starting out quiet but getting louder and louder - like nails dragging on a chalkboard - scraping around the inside of your skull.

The noise slowly forms itself into a voice, whistling like a tea kettle, stabbing the backs of your eyeballs. The voice enters your ears like the hissing of a snake, all tongue and teeth, unable to comprehend the words. You feel ice-cold pressure on your legs, then a sharp pain inside your thigh. You try to scream from the hurt but there isn’t enough air in your lungs to cry out. 

You think you’re dreaming of Max again, but it’s not how it usually is. Pain creeps up your spine. You smell rot, wet earth, and copper. You feel shame. A warm flush burns your cheeks, the tips of your ears, down your neck to your chest. You don’t want to be thinking of him like this, not now, not as the ache in your head increases, not as your leg throbs. Wait, why is Max hurting you like this? He’d never do this. Why is he doing this?

You hear slurping noises and finally understand the word ‘sleep’ in your ear, and so you fall back asleep.

You’ve never been more tired in your life. You’re so tired that no matter what you do, you can’t wake up. You hear Max speaking now and smell warm caramel sauce. He’s in your dream again, but you can barely understand his words over the pounding in your head. A noise cuts through the constant buzz in your ears, a piercing howl, a throaty laugh that claps repeatedly against your eardrums.

Suddenly, an inhuman shriek rings out so loudly that you’re sure your ears are going to bleed, and then you’re falling. Falling, falling, falling into an endless pit of black. You’re never going to land, you’re never going to know peace, you’re never going to survive this. A wave of warmth splashes over you and suddenly you’re on solid ground. You’ve never felt so good in your entire life. You drift back into a hazy unconsciousness.

You awake when you hear all of the voices, it must be six or seven people, all shouting over each other, harried and barking. The voices clash like cymbals in your brain but you hear one voice distinctly above the others. Max. You know you hear Max. You hear him say don’t let her die, his voice almost melodic in comparison to the rest.

You think you open your eyes but it can’t be real because everything is red. Everything. 

The smell of warm apple crumble fills your senses, and you’re pretty sure that’s what wakes you up. Not the incessant beeping of multiple hospital machines, or alarms blaring from speakers above you, or the yelling of the medical staff in a language you don’t understand. No, it’s the apple, brown sugar, and butter that invades your nose, your mouth, your brain. 

You feel the warmth of it on your face, hot out of the oven. You’re pretty sure you can even taste it. Eventually you gather the strength to open your eyes and you see Max Phillips. You watch him prick his fingertip with his fang, gathering a drop of blood on his finger and moving it underneath your hospital gown. His eyes move to your face and he’s surprised to find you awake.

“Sorry, I-” he starts, and retracts his hand slightly. “This is just-”

His hand continues up the thin garment and you gasp when he smears the blood on his fingertip over a very sore spot on your leg. It’s high inside your thigh and you can’t remember how it got there. You’d be more embarrassed or shocked that Max was putting his hand there if it didn’t hurt so bad and then almost immediately feel so much better.

He then brings his hand up to your face. You see his fingertip still leaking a bit of blood.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, his words a song in your head.

You know he’s using his hypnotic vampire powers on you, but you know they don’t work. By now he should also know they don’t work. Whatever you are, whatever this thing is that you carry in your blood, vampire powers don’t work on you. Wait, why the fuck is your tongue sticking out of your open mouth? What is happening? Why is your body obeying him?

He slowly lowers his finger to your tongue, dabbing the remaining drop of blood on it.

“Swallow.”

You do. You don’t understand why, but you follow his command. 

“Sleep,” he whispers, his hot-cider-scented breath wafting over you. 

Your body obeys him again and falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next time you opened up your eyes you were back in your own bed. Your uncle said you'd been knocked out for the better part of a week but you felt like a million bucks when you woke up. It's finally over, he’d said. Finally over. You asked him what he meant and he said Don't you feel that? Feel what? You didn't feel anything. Exactly, he said. Don't feel anything. 

Gone was the constant hunger, gone was the clawing emptiness, gone was the magnetic pull towards a minion of death. 

Zeno was dead. That much you knew. You could feel it. Oz could feel it. How, why, or by whose hand he had no idea. He just knew that he woke up two days after you’d left for Cairo and felt the best he'd ever felt in his life. You were inexplicably back in your bed, and all his fears were miraculously gone. 

You saw Oz laughing for the first time in years. He’d even felt up to planning a vacation to make up for lost time, though you declined to join him. You knew he was somewhere in Peru according to his latest email. You stayed home, trying to adjust to your new life as well, but there were still questions in your mind that seemed to be holding you back. Maybe just one question.

Where was Max Phillips?

You get your answer two nights later when you hear a knock at your front door, finding him standing in his trademark three-piece-suit on your front steps. He smiles at you before sniffing the air. He skips over the salutations and small talk.

“Where’s your uncle, sweetheart?”

“He’s back in his-”

“No, he’s not,” Max interrupts with a sly smile. You roll your eyes.

“Somewhere along the Amazon.”

“There’s the truth,” he looks across your face, taking you in for a moment. “You look…..” he trails off, then brings one hand up in sweeping motion, wafting the scent of butterscotch towards you. With a toothy grin he asks, “you gonna invite me in?”

Several hours later you’re standing in your kitchen, cheeks warm from drink and sore from laughter, pouring the last drops of your second bottle of wine into both of your glasses. He’d told you what he’s been up to for the last month - traveling the world he said. You lied and told him you’d been looking into doing the same.

You tell more lies when he asks about how your job hunt is going (good, just waiting on some call backs), if you’ve been making any new friends (meeting people every day), and how you’ve been feeling (totally great and not sad at all). You even think he bought the fake new hobby you made up (Knitting? Is that what you’d said?).

“You look well,” he huffs out, finally finishing the thought he started on your doorstep.

“You too,” is your awkward response as you turn, setting the bottle down on the counter behind you, hoping he doesn’t notice you cringe.

“Well, I always look this good,” he quips, never humble, “but you were in pretty rough shape last time I saw you.”

Memories that you had subconsciously pushed down come flooding back into your mind. Max was there. He was in Cairo. He saved you. What had he saved you from? You couldn’t really remember. You hadn’t been able to remember for weeks, the fuzzy images retreating further and further from your grasp with each passing day.

“You were there,” it’s not a question. You remember that much.

“I’m always there,” he says immediately.

“You saved me…”

“I always save you.

“You saved me from him, didn’t you?” A beat finally passes without an answer. Barely a whisper, “You killed him.”

“You remember that?” He tries to hide his smile.

“I remember your voice. I remember your smell,” you admit.

“My smell? What do I smell like?”

“You don’t know?”

“It’s different for everybody. What do I smell like to you, sweetheart?” he leans forward and tucks his face into your neck, inhaling the heat coming off of you as his own scent invades your nose. Pumpkin pie, mulled wine, and line-dried flannel.

“You smell like fuckin’ autumn,” you manage to get out before he catches your lips with his own.

He grabs your face in both hands and continues kissing you as he walks you backwards down the hall towards your bedroom. How does he know where your bedroom is? His tongue licks over your bottom lip and you feel lightheaded. All thought processes are interrupted when - unhappy with your slow pace - he picks you up and carries you bridal-style into your bedroom.

Tossing you on your bed, he undresses with inhuman speed, completely naked before you’ve even stopped bouncing on the springs. He prowls towards you, crawling on the bed overtop you, his legs slotting between yours, his arms caging your shoulders on either side.

“Why did you choose me over him?” Your words are barely audible to you over your own pounding heartbeat. He dips his head so his lips brush against the shell of your ear. You smell his sweet honeyed breath and hear him sigh your name.

“I always chose you,” he kisses a path along the line of your jaw until he reaches your chin, placing a long kiss on your lips. “And you know why.”

Your eyes fall closed as he continues his trail of kisses down your body, gently removing your clothing as he goes. Max firmly pinches one nipple until it is tight and stinging, then he brings his mouth over it to draw soft circles with the tip of his tongue, soothing the pebbled flesh. He sucks at the sensitive peaks, laving his tongue along the curve of your breasts and mouthing the underside, dividing his attention equally between them.

Unable to take much more of his torment, you grab his hair with both hands and moan his name. Understanding your message, he moves down your body, divesting you of the rest of your clothing. You can’t stop the shiver that shoots up your spine when you look down and see him, fangs bared, between your thighs.

“Don’t be scared, sweetheart,” he coos, placing kisses on the soft places inside your legs.

“I’m not.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums.

His fingers spread you open as his flat tongue licks you with delicate strokes. He starts small but as you begin to moan and writhe underneath him he is soon reaching his tongue from your asshole to your clit, lapping at your arousal in between. When you grab at his hair again and your cries become insistent, he doubles down on his efforts on your nub. 

Max has you seeing stars only minutes after entering the room. Before you can feel any kind of embarrassment for how easy it was for him to wind you up, he’s latched his mouth back on to you. Still sensitive from your climax, he’s careful to apply only gentle pressure to your core. Easily pushing a finger into your entrance, slick with your release, he begins to massage upward.

If the first orgasm came quickly, then the second one could be called instantaneous. You’re hoarsely crying out his name as it washes over you, tears spilling out of your clenched shut eyes and running down your face. You watch as Max pushes the finger that was inside your cunt into his wet mouth, wrapping his tongue around it for an especially lewd view.

Max Max Max. You repeat his name over and over. 

“Max, please.”

“Please what, baby?” his voice is back at your ear

“You’ve been torturing me for so long, please just fuck me already,” you notice how whiny your own voice sounds but you can’t help it.

“We haven’t even been in this room for ten minutes and I’ve made you come twice, how exactly am I torturin’ you, hmm?” As if he doesn’t know.

“The dreams Max, the dreams.”

“You’ve been dreamin’ about me angel?” He drags his lips down your neck and across your collarbone, moving his face back up to your other ear.

“You know I have, you put a spell on me.” You feel him chuckle in your ear.

“That’s not a spell. That’s just called you being in fuckin’ love with me.”

“No I-” 

You’re cut off by his mouth on your lips again. You watch him kiss you, his eyes closed, his fangs retracted, gentle at first and then growing more needy. You close your eyes too and lose yourself in the movements of his mouth, his tongue, the taste of you, the taste of him. Your hands roam his body, and it hits you suddenly… maybe he’s right. He pulls back to look at you.

“I love you too,” he responds to words you didn’t say.

You feel him then, pressing hard against your entrance and you spread your legs to open up for him. He pushes forward and finally, finally, begins to ease himself inside of you. You gasp, looking into his eyes as he stutters his hips, moving into you inch by inch. You think you must sound pitiful, but you can’t do anything about the breathy moans that leave your mouth now. You’ve been thinking about this moment for so long and now it’s happening, and it feels better than you ever imagined it could.

Your arms are wrapped around him, pulling him tight tight tight against you and you can’t stop kissing him. He seems more than happy to oblige as his mouth meets yours over and over. You hear him say baby, say sweetheart, say your name. You hear him tell you he loves you, breathing it into your mouth repeatedly. He pulls your body up off the bed a bit, holding you tight in his arms as the tempo of his hip thrusts increases.

Your head lolls back now, unable to keep kissing him while you groan louder and louder, telling him that you’ve dreamed of this, that he feels so good, that you need him. Spurred on by your praise, he snaps his hips into yours harder and faster, moving his body away enough to reach his hand between you. He rubs his thumb up and down over your hooded bud and brings you to another explosive peak in his embrace. 

You spend the rest of the night taking your time with each other, bringing each other to orgasm after orgasm, so many that you lose count. It becomes clear to you that Max has been just as enamored with you as you have been with him. All of his bravado and even his superhuman abilities fall by the wayside when you take him into your mouth and tell him how much you love him, how much you love his dick.

In the quiet moments of recovery you take deep breaths, talk about your shared past, and even make some plans for a future that includes each other. At one point your curiosity gets the better of you, as you recall several moments over the years.

“What do I smell like to you?” You ask as your head rests on his chest. He leans his face down and buries it in the crown of your head, sniffing you, and placing a kiss there before he pulls away.

“You smell like home, sweetheart.

🖤

(that got so sappy at the end I'm sorry it turned into a vampire love story)

[metal-and-machetes]

The Downward Spiral

—

Jed Olsen isn’t who he says he is.

Ghostface has a thing for the young reporter.

Danny Johnson always takes what he wants.

—

This is a dark Ghostface DBD fanfiction. Content warning:

Stalking

Torture

Sexual violence

Knifeplay

Dubcon/Noncon

Blood kink

Graphic descriptions of violence

A very mean Danny Johnson

Some wound fingering

Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. If the above are triggers for you, do not proceed. DBD lore does not suggest Danny is fun or nice, I wrote him as such.

Originally posted on my AO3

—

Listen, I’m not going out tonight. I’m already in my pajamas and I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh c’mon! Look, I know you’re bummed about your boyfriend breaking up with you, but I really think a girls’ night would do you good!” You sighed. Cass had good intentions, she was just trying to help, but you were just not in the mood tonight.

“It’s not just that. I still think that call was out of character for him. He just sounded… something wasn’t right.” You sighed. “He sounded scared…”

“Need I remind you that he’s the same man who made you cry, on like, multiple occasions. He was a piece of shit, babe. He really isn’t worth your time, he’s not worth any woman’s time.”

She was right. He wasn’t very nice to you. He blew you off, he was always late picking you up for dates, and he was just a jackass. Still though, something just felt off about his message. And then he just… vanished.

“Hellooooo?”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, and not only that, what about the curfew? Roseville PD will be crashing parties, and I don’t think an office party is an exception.”

Cass huffed. “We’re the newspaper. I don’t think they’ll shut us down. You know Jed’s supposed to be here too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Jed Olsen. He showed up a few months ago with a stacked portfolio and a ‘winning attitude’ according to the editor in chief. Jed Olsen with his confident smile. Jed Olsen with his dark hair and deep brown eyes. Jed Olsen with the entire office head over heels for him. You weren’t any different. Jed was nice to you, if not a little flirty, Cass pointed out that he seems to hang around your desk and chat with you the most. Jed was, in every way, miles better than your ex boyfriend.

“Tell him I said hi.” You replied. “I’m not leaving my house tonight.”

Cass sighed, defeated that her master plan didn’t get you to leap into your car and speed off to the party. “Okay, we’ll miss you tonight.”

“Have fun, let me know when you get back home.”

The line cut out after you exchanged goodbye and you were once again left in silence. You opened the microwave and tossed a bag of popcorn in, leaning against the counter as the machine heated the snack up and you went through the mail. Junk, junk, junk, bill, bill, coupon. You paused when you got to the Roseville Gazette.

TWO FOUND SLAIN IN ANOTHER HORRIFIC GHOSTFACE MURDER by Jed Olsen.

The screaming ghost mask stared back at you, taunting you, watching you. Jed’s career took off when the Ghostface killings began. The exclusive photos, taken by the murderer himself, certainly helped. But so did the interviews Jed conducted, you’ve seen them, he was so sympathetic and kind to the victims’ friends and family. And he wrote like a god. No one seemed to question how Jed’s ‘insider’ gets him the photos, you don’t think anyone even cares.

You tossed the paper aside and stopped the popcorn, dumping it in a bowl and making your way to the couch and pressing play on the video you rented tonight.

Twenty minutes into the video, the phone rings. You huff and press pause to pick up the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello there.” The voice was male, albeit a little mechanical, but it was over the phone.

“Um, who’s this?”

“Who do you want it to be?”

You scoffed. Seriously? A grown man prank calling? “Okay, you’re either some random man who picked my name out of a phonebook, or you’re one of his friends being a jackass.”

“Can’t say I know who that is, doll.”

“So you just call random numbers? Or did Cass give you my number?” You found a smile pulling at your lips, starting to have a bit of fun with the stranger. Who’s to stop you, really. “Can’t imagine that isn’t something she’d do.”

“What can I say? The curfew had me bored, must’ve dialed the wrong number, but I’m not complaining. What are you up to?” Fuck it. You’ll entertain this.

“Just watching a scary movie I picked up from the video store after work.”

“Oh really? What’s your favorite scary movie?” He inquired. I was practically blushed at the smoothness of his voice.

“Halloween. Personally, I think John Carpenter makes the best horror.”

“Well, he is the Master of Horror. So, you got a name, doll?” I laughed.

“What about your name, mystery man? You called me first.”

The voice chuckled on the other end. “Well, tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine.”

You jumped up onto the counter. “Why should I do that?” A giggle rose in your throat.

A pause.

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Time seemed to freeze. Your heart rate picked up and your breathing became quicker. The giggle died and became bile rising. There was a roaring in your ears and you began to stammer in fear. “Wh-what did you just say?” You misunderstood him, you must have! No one would say that, and if they did, it was just a cruel joke.

“You heard me, sweetheart. I saw you reading the front page. Do you like my work? You’re talking to Roseville’s biggest celebrity.”

No fucking way…

“I’m calling-“

“The cops? They wouldn’t make it in time, they’d find you gutted and I’d be long gone by then, just pictures of me and your pretty corpse.” His voice changed, it wasn’t flirty or sexy anymore, it was downright terrifying. It was aggressive and harsh, no more seduction. He wasn’t toying anymore, he had begun his hunt. “The only thing calling the cops would stop is how long I plan on playing with you.”

“What the hell do you want?” You growled, flinching when a flash went off out of the corner of your eye from the small window above the sink, but when you looked at it, no one was there.

“Heh. Pretty picture. But, won’t you smile for me, doll? I’ll be sending these to the paper in the morning, I want you looking your best for the obituary they write for you.” Ghostface teased.

“Quit playing around, fucker!” You pulled a knife out of the drawer and crept out of the kitchen and into the living room. “C’mon, asshole. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

The man laughed on the other end of the call, tsking at you as if you were a fool. “Well… then it’s a good thing you left the garage door unlocked.”

The dial tone blared in your ear as he hung up, leaving you in silence, the only thing scoring your last few moment was the soundtrack of Halloween 2 playing quietly. You lowered the phone, gripping the knife as your fingers began to sweat. It was too quiet. You scoffed and began to dial 911, but before you could finish dialing, you were tackled by a large figure.

“Fuck!” You thrashed as the two of you wrestled, your foot connecting with his chest and shoving him off of you. You sat up and cursed as the soulless black eyes of Ghostface’s mask bore into you before grabbing the knife and swinging at him, just missing his hand. He tilted his head as you two circled the couch, his hunting knife at the ready like yours.

“You’ve got spirit, doll. I like a challenge. I like a little fight.” His voice was distorted by a modulator, sounding the exact same as the mechanical voice over the phone.

“Fuck you!” You screamed, lunging at the killer and landing a cut on his forearm.

He yelled furiously. “You bitch! If you would just cooperate and lay down and die this wouldn’t be so bad!”

You turned and made a break for the door, hoping, praying, that you could open it and scream and your neighbors would come to your rescue. Instead, a sharp pain bloomed in your back and a scream ripped from your throat as the sharp pain was torn from your back and renewed in your flank. Ghostface’s hand tangled into your hair and your head connected with the wall, leaving you engulfed in darkness.

—

When you came to, your head was pounding. You could feel a dull pressure in your flank and something warm and sticky was running down your scalp, and was the room spinning? What room where you even in? What day is it? Shit… what happened to you?

“Oh look, you live.” You groaned and turned your head towards the mechanical voice. Ghostface was lounged in a plush chair, legs spread as if he were right at home. “You know, you’re a tricky one! Who knew you’d put up a fight!”

Oh right… he caught you…

“What do you want from me…” You slurred, trying to focus on stringing your words together. How concussed where you? Ghostface tilted his head. “Are you going to murder me?”

“Aw, don’t be scared, sweetheart, that part will be quick.” He stood and casually made his way to the side of the bed, gripping the knife that was still jammed into my side. His unoccupied hand clamped over my mouth as he slowly twisted the blade, my muffled screams having little affect on his sympathy as I thrashed and began to cry. Ghostface chuckled. “The part before however, I’ll be taking my sweet time.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you!” You barked, squirming as he ran his leather clad fingers down the column of your throat.

“Sucks that your boyfriend broke up with you, huh?” He teased. “Maybe you wouldn’t have been alone tonight, huh?”

“Wh-How do you know that?”

“Speaking of, have you heard from him lately? I think I saw somewhere in the paper that there were two bodies butchered beyond belief.” Your eyes widened. “Maybe you should’ve gone to the Gazette’s party, but I was counting on you being a recluse instead. You’re so predictable, doll. And a dumb bitch too. You really shouldn’t just go around telling people so much about yourself. That’s dangerous, you never know who exactly you’re talking to.”

“How do you know all of this? The party, the break up, who the hell are you!?” Tears spilled out of the corners of your eyes as Ghostface stroked your hair and stared at you, seemingly taking in your pathetic, half dead state. “Why are you doing this?”

Ghostface remained silent, but his hand rose up towards that mask and you knew what it meant. It meant whatever chance you had of getting out of this alive. It meant you were doomed to end up on the front page of the Gazette. You could see it now, ‘The Ghostface Killer Strikes Again, One Dead’. What you couldn’t foresee was the face behind the screaming plastic mask, because you would have never guessed that Jed Olsen’s brown eyes would be staring back at you. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“No… No, no, it’s not y- it can’t be you, Jed!” You sobbed as he ran his fingers through the blood on your cheek and examined them. You thrashed against the restraints on your wrists and ankles, desperate to run from him.

“You’re even prettier when you bleed.” You groaned and shake your head as he cleaned the blood away from the leather with his tongue. “Way more satisfying than the look on your ex-boyfriend’s face as he made that phone call to you with a knife to his throat, thought I’d let him go too! Hah!”

“Jed… please don’t do this, please let me go, I won’t tell anyone!” You felt so pathetic begging, but it was all I could do. Jed looked back down at you, a short laugh escaping his lips.

“You won’t tell anyone, huh? I can’t risk it, sweetheart, you’ve seen my face now.” You yelped when he grabbed the knife and ripped it out of your side, examining the way your blood dripped from it. “But our fun is just beginning.”

“Please… I- I’ll- I’ll help you cover up the murders! Please Jed!”

He shushed you softly, stroking your cheek with a gentleness that was almost cruel while his other hand pressed against the wound on my flank. “The more you fight, the harder this will be. You’re going to do everything I tell you, you’re not going to fight, and you’re going to be a good pet. Do you understand?”

“Fuck- Fuck you!” Jed scoffed and jammed his fingers into the wound while holding his hand over your mouth, pulling a weak scream from you. “Jed! Stop! Stop, it hurts!”

“Do you understand now, bitch!?”

You nod reluctantly, gasping when his fingers left the wound. This was it, you were going to die and there was nothing that you could do about it. Worst of all, you liked Jed. He was always nice to you, he was gorgeous, he was smart, he was everything you wished you could have in a man. And even now, even as he played around with you in the cruelest way, he looked ethereal with the eye black and the hood of his outer layer pulled back just enough to let his hair peak through.

“Good pet.” I winced as he patted my cheek a little too aggressively.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? I thought you liked me?”

“Oh doll, I do like you! I think you’re interesting and fun to be around. Why do you think I would hang around you so much at work?” Jed circled the foot of the bed, looking eerily similar to a wolf stalking its prey. “And you were so eager to have my attention.”

“I was being friendly!”

Jed scoffed. “Give me a break, sweetheart. You think you hid it so well, but I didn’t miss the way you blushed, or smiled, or pressed your thighs together when I would lean down over your shoulder to look at what you were working on, my breath on your neck as I praised you. You really enjoyed that.” You gritted your teeth and spat in his face, earning a flinch and an unamused chuckle as he wiped it off. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought.”

He moved like lightning, throwing himself over you and straddling your hips, his buck knife pressed hard against your throat as your eyes went wide in panic. One pull on the knife and you were a goner.

Except there was a part of you, some sick and disgusting part of you, that fucking liked this. Liked the cold, sharp steel biting your skin, liked his weight holding you down, and really liked the press of his bulge against your body. And even more fucked up, you rolled your hips up against it.

“Oh my fucking god. Are you really into this?” Jed leaned down, nearly nose to nose with you. “You little slut, you are into this! Rolling your hips up like a needy little bitch. Want me to take care of that little problem down there for you?”

You whimpered at his cruel words, or maybe you were whimpering because that damn leather felt so good as it glided up your shirt. There was a loud rip as he sliced it off of you, a sadistic grin lighting up his face as he slowly raked his eyes down my body. “Jed I-“

“Danny.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “S-sorry?”

“Name’s Danny. Not Jed.”

This gave you pause, you had so many questions. What else had he lied about? How did he wind up here? Why Roseville? Why choose the Gazette? Why you? “I’m scared… Danny.”

Danny smiled softly and traced your jawline with his knife before stabbing it inches away from your head. “Fear makes pussy taste better.”

You didn’t even get to think before his hand was in your hair and ripping you upward to crash his lips to yours. You whimpered, but didn’t fight, instead you opened your mouth when he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You were sick in the head. You had to be. But it felt so good when his fingers slid down your body and pinched your nipple between them.

You let him grope you, you let him run his tongue over yours, you let him do whatever he wanted. He lied to you, he tricked you, and goddammit, he was still the single most sexually appealing person you’d ever laid eyes on. He parted from you and pushed you back down, grinning as he rips the knife out off the pillow and cuts your underwear.

You blushed as he raised it to his nose and inhaled before laughing as his knife slipped back into its sheath. “Pretty fucked up that you’re turned on by a stalker with a knife. I’ll be keeping these.” He stuffed them into his pocket before removing his hood, the shroud, and finally his shirt. Your breath caught in your throat as he stretched and ran his fingers through his hair, locking eyes with him. He was lean, not overly muscular, his chest had various scars, scars from when victims probably fought back. He clearly worked out, you presumed he had to with his… line of work. Danny sighed and leaned down. “You gonna be a good pet for me and be still?”

“Yes…”

“Good.” He nipped your earlobe before he began the torturously slow descent down your body. “I’ve been pining after you for months, sweetheart. But that damn boyfriend of yours…” he sucked a harsh bruise onto your neck. “Always getting in the fuckin’ way. It was so annoying.”

You gasped as he reached your breasts, running his tongue over your nipple, the softness briefly interrupted by the coolness of a ball. You looked down to see a silver ball, a piercing. Because of course he would have one.

Danny continued his descent, kissing and biting your hips until he got where he wanted to be. “And what do we have here, hm?”

Your breath hitched as he slid his hands out of the gloves by his teeth and dragged his cold, bare fingers up your thigh until he was just shy of brushing your vulva. Danny watched your legs tense and your body twitch as he finally ran his fingers between your slit.

“I wouldn’t have guessed being strapped down by a stalker would get you so wet, it’s adorable.” You whimpered as Danny leaned in close to your face and circled you clit slowly with his index and middle fingers. “Such a pathetic slut.”

“N-no!” you protested.

“Oh? You’re not a pathetic slut? Is that why you’re trying to grind on my hand?” he taunted.

“Danny please… I won’t tell anyone, we can be done here!” You felt pathetic begging him for mercy. It was weak and pitiful. “Please.”

“Oh do I love hearing you beg. Tell you what, doll, you play nice and cooperate, and I’ll consider… other options. Deal?” You swallowed, biting back a moan as he pressed a little harder on your clit. That was still Jed’s face hovering above yours. You could pretend it was still him. But pretending would involve ignoring the dull ache in your head from when Ghostface slammed you into the wall. Pretending would involve acting as if the pain from the stab wound on your flank from when Ghostface impaled you didn’t exist. And pretending would involve you looking up at the man with eyeblack and Jed’s face was truly Jed. Jed and not Danny. Jed and not Ghostface. “Tick tock, sweetheart. I’m getting an itch, and I don’t think you want to know what kind of itch it is.”

Danny pulled his fingers away from your clit and pressed them into the stab wound, grinning as a scream fell out of your throat. “Okay! Yes! Yes! I’ll cooperate! Please stop!”

He pulled them back out and shoved them knuckle deep into your pussy. Your eyes widened as your blood mixed with the wetness between your legs, a soft moan falling from your lips.

“You like that don’t you, baby?” He grinned in a way that would have been charming, but with all the eyeblack and blood that splattered on his cheek, it was simply sinister. “Maybe you’re sicker in the head than I thought.”

“That’s- fuck- that’s a lot of talk coming from the man who- mmh- who stalks people like a pervert!” you snapped, back arching as he stroked his fingers in that delicious come hither motion.

“I know I’m sick in the head.” Danny leaned in close, breath ghosting over your lips as he growled. “But you’re the one loving every second of this pervert fucking your hole with my fingers.”

“Shut up!” you snapped, gasping as his fingers spread into a v-shape and stretched your walls.

“You act so prim and proper at work.” Danny kissed your jaw bone with a laugh. “You put on this facade of the young and perky reporter with a great boyfriend and a great life. But I know what you need, Princess.” You cried out as his fingers left your pussy. “You need it filthy. You need it rough. You need me.”

Your breath heaved in your chest as he spread his fingers, streetlights gleaming against the juices that webbed between his long fingers.

“Open.”

“Wh-“ he shoved his fingers into your mouth with so much force you gagged. Danny laughed like a maniac.

“That’s it. Lick them clean and I might give you what you want.”

Fuck. His fingers tasted like your pussy and the copper of blood. This was unhinged. What the fuck were you thinking?

“That’s a good pet.” Danny’s fingers slipped from your mouth and he smiled. “Keep it up, maybe I can find a new use for you besides adding to my body count.”

“Danny-“

He ignored the weak cry of his name as he pushed apart your legs, groaning at the slick folds of your pussy, spotted with blood from his handiwork. Speaking of…

You cried out in pain as he brushed the stab wound. “Fucking hell! Stop!” Your cries were only fuel to his desperate longing and lust as his fingers played around in the wound. How long had he dreamed of this? How many days had he gone home, jacked off in his chair, went and killed, only to be back in the shower beating his cock again to you. He was obsessed.

“When I’m through with you, doll…” Danny growled, “I’m going to have you screaming my name, I’ll infect your brain like a parasite. You won’t be able to even comprehend what happened to you. I’ll have you completely cumdrunk.”

You felt breathless when he finally stopped digging around in the wound, your vision was fuzzy, your head was pounding, and yet still, fucking still! Your pussy was soaking.

“Pathetic, really, how wet you get when I play with my marks.” His dark eyes rose to yours. “I think it’s time I get to taste that sweet pussy.”

You whimper as he pressed his lips to your knee, trailing his tongue and that piercing down, down, down until he bit down on your inner thigh. “Fuck! Ow!”

Danny let go and pressed and open mouth kiss to the bite mark. “How I wish I could feel you pull my hair but… I wouldn’t want you thinking up any ways to start fighting.”

He laughed at your anger before his tongue was running up your slit in the blink of an eye. Oh god it was so warm. You gasp and let out a long, low groan as Danny focused his attention on your clit. You moved your hips best you could as his bloody hands gripped them, leaving red stains on your skin. His eyes lifted and he smiled wickedly.

“That’s it baby…” he lapped as your clit. “Make those pretty noises for me.”

You sighed and arched as tears formed in your eyes. Why did you like this? He was a murderer, a psychopath, he was a liar who created this persona to charm and hypnotize. And you fell for it.

Danny growled and nipped roughly at your clit. You look down with a yelp, locking eyes with him as he slightly lifted an eyebrow in a silent warning before fingers slipped in as he circled and massaged the tongue piercing over your clit.

“You,” he began, looking down at his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy before resting his head on your thigh. “better keep your mind from wondering. I’m all you should be fucking looking at.” He punctuated his point with a deep shove of his fingers. “Understand?”

“Fuck! Yes…” Danny grinned and nodded.

“You wanna cum don’t you?” You didn’t respond, just moaned as he stroked your G-spot. “I asked you a question, bitch!”

“Yes… fuck, yes I wanna cum…” Your cheeks burned as you admitted it. He was hot. This was hot. This was gross. He was gross. You reached that point, your legs began to shake and your body tightened as you exploded, cum flowing out onto his fingers. Danny grinned like a wolf, leaning down as his fingers withdrew.

You whimpered as his tongue touched your asshole, dragging all the way up to catch what dripped out. “God fucking damn, you taste so fucking delicious.” His fingers smeared your cum down your chest as he tweaked one nipple, then the other to illicit cries out of you. “I’m going to fuck you so good, you won’t be able to think straight.”

He stood and slowly unzipped his black pants before working it all down and narrowing his eyes at you. “If I take off those restraints, are you going to behave?”

The black around his eyes made them more intense as he sent that threat to my core. “Yes…”

“Yes, what?” he growled.

“Yes sir?”

He smirked and found the knife again, slicing your restraints off your legs before stealing you and cutting the ones from your arms. You hesitated then brought your arms to his shoulders. How could he look so good with your blood splattered on him? You couldn’t deny it any longer, you were grossly into this. You were into him. Even if he wasn’t Jed. Even if he was Ghostface. You were into everything about this. Sure, the blood loss made it easier, but you accepted your fate.

Danny leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was softer, more chaste. His hand drifted down your torso, lifting to grab his cock in his hand, pumping it before he teased the head against your slit.

“Please…”

“Look me in the eyes and try again, sweetheart.” he whispered.

You sighed, lifting your eyes to his and murmured “Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.”

Danny laughed then thrusted deep into you. You cried out as he began a brutal pace, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist and your nails digging into his chest. “Fuck, so tight… god dammit!”

You whimpered and arched your back. The wound in your side still bled, you could feel it smear as his hand passed over it to pull a brief cry of pain from you. He grabbed the knife again and pressed it against your throat.

“You’re so lovely, covered in blood.” He purred, pressing harder, eyes darkening as he grinned. Your own eyes widened as he pumped faster, fear taking over as you. Danny groaned. “God, you slut. You just clenched at the thought of his knife slicing you right open.”

Danny moaned as you clinched again, then his eyes sparkled with an idea. He pinned you down at the elbow, exposing your inner bicep, the soft flesh exposed as he brought the hunting knife to the skin.

“No! Danny no please don’t cut me again!” You screamed when the blade bit into the skin, a sob wrenching from your throat as he carved at your arm. Each scream drew a moan from him, for every cut forced a squeeze from you. “Stop! Please! It hurts so fucking much! Fuck you!”

“Aw baby. But you’re squeezing me- fuck- so good.” He thrusted unevenly, clearly close to an orgasm. “Fuck, c’mon sweetheart…”

With one last deep slice, he came, cumming inside you as he practically roared with relief. You started sobbing, blood pouring from your arm and side, that headache that you forgot about coming back with a vengeance. The room was getting fuzzy. It hurt. You didn’t know exactly what it was that hurt the most, but it all hurt.

Danny smiled, slowly pulling out of you, sitting back on his heels and looking down at his handiwork, almost admiring it. He stayed straddling you, then started laughing again. “You know sweetheart… I think I can make a deal for you.”

You gazed up blearily, vision going in and out. “Deal…?”

“I’ll keep you alive… but not here. No… no Im taking you with me.” Danny’s breathing picked up. “It needs you. It needs a survivor. A sacrifice…”

Your brows creased as he raised the knife. “No… you… you said I’ll live!”

“I’m taking you where I’m going. We’re you will be mine forever.” He stabbed down and pierced your heart, ripping the knife out to slash your throat. Blood filled your lungs as you coughed and choked. Your eyes widened as your head lolled, eyes registering what he marred into your arm. ‘MINE’.

As the world faded, Danny’s fingers stroked your hair. “I’ll see you real soon, sweetheart.”

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hi slug! You read and listen to all the drama tracks, right?

I was wondering if you personally had any specific lore branches you hope are expanded upon in the future? Or things that got brushed over you want to be addressed again?

Like, mine is how the Buster Bros traumatic events affected them, more specifically Jiro and Saburo.

I have a ton of plot points I'd be fascinated to learn more about, even if I think the likelihood of some of them showing up is very small. An incomplete list from off the top of my head:

Jirou is far more of a people person than either of his brothers, but I'd like to see how he developed that more outgoing streak. In particular, what led to him developing a friendship with Urumi? It's implied he has other "contacts" as well, and it'd be nice to someday see those.

What led Juuto, a person with such a unique sense of justice, to becoming a police officer in the first place? How did his friendship with his older cop buddy influence his approach to policing, even before drugs became a factor?

We already got a scene of Riou's time in the war and why he respects Major Iojaku so much, but I would eat up more of that any day.

I'd love to know more about why Gentarou respects his brother so much to the point that he (appears to, at least at this point in time with our understanding of canon) take on his brother's identity in the wake of his hospitalization.

I have the sneaking suspicion it was mentioned at least offhand in a drama track (which I don't usually listen to... at least not more than once), but I would like to know more about Dice and Otome's falling out.

I know I'm a broken record about this. I'm sorry. But even for all the lovely headcanons people create, I really, really, really want to know the canon reason Jakurai, a character with deep moral convictions to save as many people as possible and one who remains torn for years on end about hurting people, became a hired killer. Maybe KR wants to backpedal on this and sweep it under the rug in the hopes they can retcon it. Maybe they think we'll all forget. Yet much like Pepperidge Farm, I remember. And I'm still waiting for an answer.

Obligatory Hifumi and Honobono backstory bullet point

Similarly, it's been mentioned a couple of times that Doppo doesn't really have friends outside of Hifumi and Jakurai (and his work colleagues, I suppose) which I find a little odd. Especially prior to working at EL Medical, there's nothing about his behavior that would suggest he struggles to make and maintain friendships. Why doesn't he have old college or high school buddies? What's the deal there? Would love to know.

Not lore-related, but I think Kuukou would have been the most god-awful toddler imaginable. I would like to see it.

We actually probably will get (at least some of) Rei's rationale behind his more questionable decisions in canon, which I welcome. I'd like to know what led to him becoming the person he is today, and I have quite a few questions about what his relationship with his wife was like if Sasara and Roshou remind him of him and his wife. (Presumably, they must have been very poor communicators lol)

Also not lore-related, but I sincerely hope Jakurai keeps finding opportunities to regale impressionable ears with stupid shit Hitoya did in middle school. Hitoya's great, man. He thinks he's so cool--and he IS cool, in a great many ways--but all the things he thinks are cool are actually just him being a giant dork. God bless.

[ghostyclay]

Since yall seem to like my other AUs/headcanons, I've decided to rant a bit about my 'main' one :3 (kept vague to avoid spoilers)

Small summary: (more indepth rant below)

it's a villan & hero hermitcraft / life series / empires au, focused on bad boys (at least during the first arc). Joel creates a bar as a cover for a fighting ring/information selling business, joined by pearl effo gem grian and jimmy. Grian refuses to participate in the criminal activities at first, but doesn't rat them out either. (inspired by his resisting the resistance thing in s9)

However, as u can probably guess, this doesn't last long and he slowly gets more n more involved, especially once random people mysteriously start getting "the red curse", which he recognizes from his past... (hehe watcher lore) Grian continues to pretend to stay uninvolved while trying to keep the Watchers at bay behind the scenes, even going as far as creating multiple alter egos / secret identities in order to hide his involvement.... (poultry man, cute guy, mother spore,...) Sadly, the Watchers think identity reveals are incredibly amusing and make it their mission to reveal Grians secrets... :)

Now, lil poll bc i wanna know yalls preference:

Im not a very experienced writer, so I can't guarantee the fics would be any good- while i def prefer comics, it would take a long ass time and I'm not sure whether its a good idea since i tend to loose interest in projects p fast wkdhakdj

Still debating what to name it, I think ill call it "Web of lies", "Wolau" for short LMFAO. Im not very good at naming things 😭 suggestions are welcome!!!

Some more background info:

Joel is a fairly new villain who has decided to start a business focused on fighting rings, selling information and just generally doing criminal stuff. (inspired by his secret fighting club in s10). He hires Gem and jimmy, two ex-vigilantes who became a bit more... Villainous. Their cover is a normal bar, which ofc means they also need normal employees who won't snitch. Jimmy suggests Grian toJoel, since he's a retired informant. He basically started out as an investigative journalist in another city, but got more n more involved with both villains and heroes (which is how he knows jimmy) before joining a cult (watcher lore watcher lore watcher lore-) and suddenly dissappearing.

Although he went missing a few years ago, they manage to track him down. He joins, but tells them he's not involved in the world of villains anymore and that he wants to stay out of everything (so hes basically working in the bar that they use as a cover as a 'normal' employee and turns a blind eye to anything criminal going on)

That's kind of the start of the story? Afterwards, Pearl, a villain who used to be a vigilante that worked with Scott (<-number one hero), then got betrayed by him and is now plotting his murder, joins in. Later on etho joins, who is originally sent by the hermits as a spy (<- p big villain&vigilante alliance in the city) but ends up deciding to side w/ them. (BOAT BOYS BOAT BOYS BOAT BOYS-)

(pearl & Scott's conflict is ofc a double life ref and etho is a mycelium resistance ref, he also ends up finding out about some of grians secrets and helping him behind the scenes)

Although its focused on the members of the bar, later on it focuses more on other hermits (since they get more involved w/ the villain group "hermits" which most of the hermits are a part of) but there's also some side stories that focus on other ppl (there's a whole side story about Ren and Doc getting to know each other after Ren gets infected by the curse, or martyn whole listener thing & how it's connected to renchanting/ren getting cursed and the Watchers showing up in the first place... But i dont wanna spoil too much :3)

Oh also! Hermits r mainly criminals(vigilantes, villains, big salmom mafia,...) and Empires members r usually heroes! But there is some exceptions to this rule. (jimmy n martyn for example)

ANY KIND OF QUESTIONS OR SUGGESTIONS R WELCOME!!! might not be able to answer everything bc of spoilers, but ill def try to do some foreshadowing instead :3

[theforbiddeneden]

Metal Hammer Magazine December 2023 Enter The World Of Sleep Token - Revista Metal Hammer Dezembro 2023 Entre no mundo do Sleep Token

"We'll never see the band at this level again" Sleep Token fan Benji Purdy

A deep, distorted voice is coming through the PA of Los Angeles’ El Rey Theatre.

“Do you think they want you to cry?” it’s saying. “Do you think they like it?”

A second voice, lighter in tone but still distorted and oddly inhuman, replies.

“Not as such,” this one says.

“I think they just want to know that I am feeling something, feeling what they are feeling, perhaps.”

The audience in this ornate, 800-capacity venue stands silent, entranced by the voices. The band onstage are masked metal sensations Sleep Token, tonight playing their first headlining show in the City of Angels as part of their month-long North American Rituals tour.

The dialogue that is playing out around us is hugely significant to everyone in this sold-out crowd. It marks the first time crowned frontman Vessel – the lighter voice – has broken his silence in public. The deeper voice he’s communing with belongs to Sleep, the god-like entity at the heart of the band’s lore. As the conversation continues, you could hear a pin drop.

“Do you think that this amount of crying is healthy for you?” Sleep asks.

“I don’t know,” comes Vessel’s response. “But at least I feel something. If I don’t feel anything then why would I even do this?”

At this, the crowd lose their minds and a wave of mania ripples across the floor. That the voices are pre-recorded doesn’t matter. Nor does the fact that this isn’t, strictly, the first time it’s happened – Sleep Token have been doing throughout this tour. But modern metal’s most enigmatic band have done something they’ve never done before: they’ve cracked open the door and given us a tantalising glimpse into their inner world.

This show isn’t the biggest Sleep Token will play this year. In December, they will headline London’s Wembley Arena. But Los Angeles, together with New York, is one of the epicentres of the US music business, and the buzz that’s surrounding the anonymous band suggests that America is paying attention to them.

More than that, La La Land has always had a thing for cults, from the Manson Family to Scientology, as well as the countless smaller ‘spiritualist’ groups that operate in the city today. An anonymous, masked British band with their own mysterious, quasi-religious mythology? LA never stood a chance.

“There is a new atmosphere at these live shows, an electricity,” says Benji Purdy, an American fan who also acts as moderator on the band’s official Discord server. He first saw Sleep Token when they supported metalcore act Issues on a 2019 US tour. After witnessing their headlined show in Portland, Oregon a few days ago, he says they’re an entirely different beast this time around.

“We’ll never see this band at this level ever again,” says Benji. “They are catapulting themselves.”

2023 has been the year Sleep Token’s cult success went fully overground. On January 5, the band released Chokehold, the first single from then-upcoming third album Take Me Back To Eden. Twenty-four hours later, they chucked in another new song, The Summoning. By the time the track hit TikTok, videos of listeners reacting to the genre-defying sound were reaching users around the world, with some even hitting a million-plus views.

Their social media profile was helped by celebrity boosts from Slipknot frontman Corey Taylor, Architects singer Sam Carter and Lorna Shore’s Will Ramos. And in May, they announced that Wembley date. All 12,500 tickets sold out in just 10 minutes. Sleep Token had officially become a arena band.

Chris Lody, a Sleep Token fan based in Coventry, set up a subreddit for the band back in 2018 after discovering they won their nomination for Best New Band at the Metal Hammer Golden Gods. The same year, he saw their first headline performance at St Pancras Old Church in front of 150 people. He’s had a front row seat to their dizzying rise.

“To go from that to Wembley in December, it’s incredible,” says Chris. “Creating the subreddit was a bit opportunistic really. Nothing like it really existed and I wanted to see what other people were saying about the band.”

It took a while, but fans eventually began to head to Chris’s Reddit page to share their own interpretations of Sleep Token’s music, art and lore. After the release of Chokehold and The Summoning, the page exploded with new users.

“The volume of people posting day-to-day is massive now,” says Chris, adding that it has grown from around 6,000 users to 34,500 at the time of writing. “We’ve had to take on more moderators just to maintain a bit of order.”

Much as the fandom has expanded, so too have the opportunities afforded Sleep Token. This summer, they stepped up to festival headliner status in the UK, with appearances at Portsmouth’s Takedown in April and Manchester’s Radar in July. Radar organiser Joe James admits they lucked out with the timing of the band’s booking.

“We got them at that sweet spot that every promoter dreams of,” he tells Hammer. “We’re a festival that wants to book progressive, contemporary music. Sleep Token tick all those boxes: they’re doing something fresh and are at the top of their game at the moment.”

Headlining the first day of the festival gave the band a full “limitless” rehearsal time, which in turn resulted in a truly headline-worthy performance.

“It looked and sounded amazing,” Joe enthuses. “They are so massive now, but they don’t behave like they’re blowing up just yet. I truly think they’re the next Download headliners of the new breed.”

It’s 4pm in Los Angeles when Hammer arrives at the El Rey Theatre, and queues are already stretching around the block in both directions. Some fans have brought chairs and blankets to sit on, while others are propping themselves up against the walls of the venue, clinging to the scant shade to avoid the glare of the Californian sun.

Amy McLaurin and her friend Sarah Hibbert are standing at the venue barrier. They’re from Virginia, and arrived at the El Rey at 9am, despite having fast-track passes that guarantee them priority entry.

“I found them on TikTok,” she says of how she discovered Sleep Token, with a nervous smile that suggests she’s worried any gatekeepers will leap out and chase her away at any second.

The pair saw Sleep Token for the first time a couple of weeks earlier in Baltimore, but couldn’t risk booking flights to come more than 2,000 miles to repeat the experience. It’s doubly impressive because Baltimore was Amy’s first ever gig, full-stop.

“I’d never really found an artist I loved enough,” she says. “Right now they’re everything I want in music. I listened to rock before Sleep Token, but not much metal – I’ve actually discovered more metal through them. I also met Sarah at the Baltimore show and we both decided to fly here.”

“They make you think about things you otherwise wouldn’t want to talk or be open about,” adds Sarah. “These songs can mean something different to everyone, a universal pain we all feel but some might be less able to express that.”

Vessel famously doesn’t do interviews – the only one he has given was to Hammer in the band’s early days – but their fans have been more than happy to pick up the slack. Sleep Token’s official and unofficial social media channels are full of running narratives, memes and jokes.

It hasn’t all been deadly serious, either. In April, a fan-filmed clip of an audience member at a gig in Sydney letting loose a “sinister” fart during the quiet part of the song Atlantic went viral. Similarly, after the release of The Summoning, a section of their fanbase dubbed Sleep Token “metal’s sexiest band,” largely thanks to lyrics such as

"THEIR MUSIC TRANSCENDS THEIR PERSONALITIES" SLEEP TOKEN FAN CASSIE KNOX

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“THERE ARE SECRETS LEFT TO BE UNCOVERED”

Daniel Owen is the man behind the artwork of Sleep Token’s first two albums, 2019’s Sundowning and 2021’s This Place Will Become Your Tomb.

WHEN DID YOU FIRST COME INTO CONTACT WITH SLEEP TOKEN?

“Around early 2018. I ended up becoming one of their lead visual creatives from [that year’s single] Jaws through to This Place Will Become Your Tomb, and some initial development on Take Me Back To Eden.”

HOW MUCH OF A BRIEF WERE YOU GIVEN IN EACH CASE?

“The briefs behind each project have varied greatly in scope, but usually only restricted to a few lines – in the case of Sundowning per song - or a paragraph to explore the central idea of This Place Will Become Your Tomb. Symbolism throughout history has always been a communication method that encapsulates a sense of power and reverence; my work for the project has always aimed to champion atmosphere while masking a considerable amount of intention below the surface. “One example would be the Sundowning sigils as a whole: being informed by the passing of time and mirroring the positions of a clock face, referencing the namesake of the album. Individually, each sigil was a cipher I'd developed that represented a hidden selection of elements relating to the singles that later served as artwork – eventually all would be removed from streaming services and become an intentionally forgotten to reflect one of the central themes of Sundowning and its primary cover. A beautiful part of working with a band is that there's an unparalleled level of bravery involved with taking the kinds of creative choices that many are too hesitant to pursue.”

SLEEP TOKEN PUT HIDDEN ‘CODES’ IN THEIR SONGS AND IMAGES. ARE THERE ANY SECRETS IN YOUR ARTWORK THAT FANS STILL HAVEN’T DISCOVERED?

“There’s certainly some things I’ve left seeded within my work that’s ready to be pulled from the future if I’m called upon. There are still some secrets left to be uncovered.”

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‘Or are you really here to cut me off? Or maybe just to turn me on’ and ‘I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t think that I could be your man / Or maybe make a good girl bad,’ combined with a raunchy bass drop in the song’s second half. This sexiness is something the band have leaned into on this US tour. During The Offering, members have been seemingly kissing through the masks, reportedly prompting a suitably ecstatic reaction from the crowd each time.

There are other, more wholesome displays of fandom, from fluffy crochet plushies to homemade necklaces. A video of guitarist IV putting on a cowboy hat given to him by an audience member at a gig in Dallas has yielded close to two million views on TikTok. Back at the barrier at the El Rey stands Cassie Knox, who has come to LA from Houston, Texas. Cassie has now seen the band eight times, including at Radar in the UK.

“Sleep Token have a big thing about community,” she says matter-of-factly, when we ask whether it gets lonely following the band on tour. “I met two girls last night in San Diego, they’re here with me and we’re also going to Anaheim [the next gig on the tour].”

While every fan has a personal answer for what Sleep Token mean to them, Cassie’s response seems to be shared by many. “They taught me self-love,” she says, holding a sign stating as much.

In May, shortly before the release of Take Me Back To Eden, several select fans were invited to an exclusive listening session for the album in London. Chris Lloyd, who runs the Sleep Token subreddit, was one of them. He won’t divulge too many details of the event, but offers an anecdote that highlights the band’s dedication to keeping their enigma intact.

“We got there and there was just this stage with curtains,” he says. “They opened at the start of the album and we thought there was a Vessel mannequin just in a chair. It was really dark and there were loads of smoke, but it was really exciting. Then right at the very end of the session, the ‘mannequin’ stood up and it was actually Vessel – he’d just sat perfectly still the whole time! It was insane.”

The band show no sign of changing their minds when it comes to preserving their mystique. Hammer’s request for an interview with Vessel is, predictably, turned down. But this anonymity is something that their devotees embrace. The golden rule of Sleep Token fandom is to never, under any circumstances, divulge or speculate on the members’ real-life identities. Still, that hasn’t stopped some people trying.

“The mystery surrounding the band will always be a key element that draws people in,” says Discord mod Benji Purdy. “It’s a rabbit hole and people love diving into them. But I have found that since [2021 album] This Place Will Become Your Tomb, there has been a culture shift within the fanbase between those who want to respect the band’s wishes to stay anonymous, and those who have a general lack of respect and think the band don’t care.”

This ring of secrecy is intact today. Before the show, Hammer is sitting at a table in the taco restaurant adjacent to the El Rey. We can hear and see the security manager briefing in front of the venue.

“Tonight’s show is Sleep Token,” the security manager says, marching along his ranks like a general on the eve of battle. “Their whole deal is that they are anonymous. If anybody – anybody – tries to go where they shouldn’t, you MUST. STOP. THEM.”

In reality, transgression seems to be the furthest thing from anyone’s mind. The people queuing outside the El Rey are here to Worship, after all.

“Their music transcends their personalities as individuals,” Cassie Knox tells us. “Everybody has a part in this music, and from the messages that the band have put out, it seems like that’s exactly what he [Vessel] wanted.”

By the time the doors open, the excitement is palpable. Airport-style security gates mean everyone is thoroughly searched before entry and it seems half the audience has brought along trinkets, gifts and signs in their own expression of Worship. One fan has turned up with a bouquet of roses so big it is seen engulfed her head. They all make it through security without issue.

While some fans have been dressing up in full Vessel cosplay elsewhere on the tour, there’s no such regalia tonight, although many have covered their faces with painted Sleep Token sigils. Equally, it’s striking just how youthful the crowd is as a whole.

“It’s been like this the whole tour,” reveals Matt de Burgh Daly, guitarist/keyboardsist with support A.A. Williams, as he sits down next to Hammer to grab a bite pre-show. Williams and her band previously supported Sleep Token on their 2021 UK tour, and now they’re on these US dates, suggesting they’re within the headliners’ circle of trust.

“It’s funny actually,” Matt says between taco bites. “This is actually one of the smaller shows on the tour, I think. But we’re pretty nervous.”

Oh?

“Yeah, our drummer’s broken his arm – he’s having to play Def Leppard style!”

With its art deco exterior, crystal light fixtures, chandeliers and blood red decor, the El Rey Theatre feels more like it should be hosting a seance than a metal show. It’s not your typical dive venue. But where Sleep Token aren’t your typical metal band, sonically or visually.

From Hammer’s vantage point, a dark balcony overlooking the main floor, it looks like nearly everyone is adorned in some kind of Sleep Token memorabilia, be it t-shirts, hoodies, or even smaller items like necklaces or homemade earrings. A queue stretches from the merch stand to the barrier throughout the entirety of A.A. Williams’ set and right up until Sleep Token themselves appear.

Sure enough, the headliners’ arrival elicits a frenzy of activity. An extended shriek of pure ecstasy greets the band as they march onto the stage, and it’s not long before the audience is singing along ardently, tears literally streaming from some fans’ eyes.

Detractors may point to the prevalence of piano ballads in Sleep Token’s sound, but there’s no shortage of heft in tonight’s set. Chokehold is explosive, its pendulum riffs cutting through the air like a buzzsaw. Hypnosis has the booming, almost floating menace of a great Deftones track, fans waving their arms wildly throughout.

Even in terms of physical presence, there’s a marked difference from the band that toured in support of 2021’s This Place Will Become Your Tomb. Back then, Vessel seemed like a solid, rooted entity, his movements stiff and minimal, clinging to the mic-stand like he was tethered to it. This time out, he’s a ball of kinetic energy, bouncing, dancing and stalking his way backwards and forwards across the stage, even dropping to do push-ups during The Summoning. Bassist III and guitarist IV are similarly lively, headbanging furiously and commanding circle pits and walls of death with finger gestures and head nods.

The Take Me Back To Eden songs are especially visceral live. Vessel skitters across the stage during Vore like someone having an ancient entity, switching between howls and soulful melodies before intoning the song’s key lyric: ‘I want to give you all, but nobody else will ever go?’

For all the excitement, background chatter falls away completely when segments of conversation between Vessel and Sleep play out. The distorted voices discuss everything from the fandom to the role the masks play in their mythology.

“In order for all of this to work there has to be a certain boundary in place,” Vessel says, his unearthly, pre-recorded voice spilling from the speakers. “They need to be able to project themselves onto this, without anyone else’s identity getting in the way. In turn, I need to be able to show my true self to them in a way that does not compromise their ability to connect.”

There’s certainly no shortage of connection as fans roar along to the likes of The Summoning, The Love You Want and Alkaline, some moved to tears as the music takes on new dimensions, the closing rave-metal thrust of The Offering ending the night on an exultant and triumphant note, before Vessel clasps his hands in thanks as Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me) plays incongruously over the PA.

So where next for Sleep Token? In a year where they have notched up a Top 10 album in the UK – Take Me Back To Eden peaked at No 3 – and sold out venues around the world, it’s hard to say exactly where the ceiling could be for them.

“I could easily see them playing arenas here in the States within two years,” Benji states. “The demand here is insane – as seen by the number of people who’ve lined up at every almost every show of this tour.”

For a British metal band to break into the US market is no mean feat, and the buzz and excitement Sleep Token are generating here is starting to catch up with the noise that surrounds them back home.

Equally, their pop sensibilities enable them to serve as a gateway, their success on TikTok showing they don’t just appeal within the metal sphere, but to wider audiences whom then tumble further down the metal rabbit-hole after discovering them.

Uniting newcomers and dyed-in-the-wool metalheads alike, Sleep Token are a new breed of band, transcending genre boundaries by simply refusing to stay in one, and backed up by a mystery and spectacle all their own. They are as at home supporting Slipknot and Architects as they are appearing at festivals like Reading and Leeds – testament to just how influential and breakout they’ve become.

Crazy as it may seem, 2024 will likely be an even bigger year for Sleep Token, and they’ve already booked some of the world’s most iconic venues in that period. With Wembley Arena and Alexandra Palace shows in the diary for next April, Sleep Token will be looking to cement their place at the top of the mountain. How long before the Worship of Sleep Token becomes a religion?

SLEEP TOKEN PLAY WEMBLEY ARENA ON DECEMBER 16. TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN IS OUT NOW VIA SPINEFARM

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MASKS REVEAL THE ARTIST’S VISION

Mario Garvera and Beatrice Rebondi are MysteryStar, an art studio specialising in masks, costumes and accessories. They also created the Vessel mask

WHAT IS YOUR BACKGROUND IN MASK-MAKING?

“We’ve always been drawn to the dramatic and theatrical aspects of expression, along with our shared love of music. We have produced thousands of pieces together over the decades. We never make replicas of our masks; they are, and always will be, one-off characters, created especially and never to be repeated.”

HOW DID YOU BECOME INVOLVED WITH SLEEP TOKEN?

“In early 2019 they were looking for a workable mask, as they hadn’t found anything wearable that could work onstage yet. We provided [Vessel and Sleep Token’s management] with several sketches and worked out together how to keep Vessel’s character essence and vision, while creating something that could work on a human head and be practical onstage.”

WHAT WERE THE BIGGEST CHALLENGES?

“It took several modifications, especially around the shape of the head. We had to accommodate certain parts of Vessel was adamant were integral parts of the full-face mask for the photoshoots and a mouth - less one for tge stage perfomances. These were the first two masks that we made for Vessel.”

WHY DO YOU THINK WE FIND MASKED BANDS SO FASCINATING?

“Masks have always been important to humans since perhaps the beginnings of civilisation. Ancient tribes created masks, for recounting their history and transmitting knowledge of their young; for healings and for warding off their enemies. In addition, it could be because masks are a created expression of the artist – the one - who created it, as well as the one who wears it – and as such reveal something of the artist’s mind and their vision.”

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Transcription English Version from theforbiddeneden