#☓ Puppets on Strings {Threads}

[chaostrainee]

Glamrock Freddy

Original pattern

I finished them!

… after 12h 🥲

[anemcreign]

Starter for @papilio-anima

Scaramouche grimaced as he tries to move his damaged body, stupid hilichurls and their weapons. He was stronger than some feeble mindless creatures, he continued to force his body to move as the puppet lines in the joints of his elbows slowly became visible.

He didn't have a heart nor normal flowing blood as his body was entirely mechanical, made by a Archon and highly durable to withstand even the hardest of blows.

The fact that he was 'injured' like this was pitiful, he ventures near a vast forest of sorts as there seemed to be wisps just floating.

What exactly was this place?

He scoffed as he continued onward, cautious of anyone or anything that might be lurking near him.

----⚡----

[deathsplaything]

A Puppet on Strings || Alistair & Zofia

Location: Streets of Oldtown Timing: December 8th, evening Parties: Alistair (@deathsplaything) & Zofia (@zofiawithaz) Summary: Zofia goes out to kill someone she swears is her captor, but Alistair stops her before she goes too far.

She had them pinned against the wall. To the odd passersby it would probably look like a lovers embrace. Except for the fact that Zofia’s teeth were firmly planted in the man’s neck, and his gurgled, whispered pleas. 

It looked just like him. 

Just like him. 

She’d been minding her own business, getting herself a damn drink and then there he was. Next to her at the bar, talkingtalkingtalking, offering to buy her a drink with that same smile- that same smug grin that had leered down at her as he dug and carved for answers she didn’t have and wouldn’t give. Talking, taunting, sitting next to her. 

She wished he’d been the one she killed when she escaped. But this was her chance. This was it- he was so foolish, following her outside, letting her get close, going into an alley with her. She didn’t care if it hurt, if the blood burned- she’d bite him anyway just because she could. She’d sunk her teeth in deep, surprised to find his blood didn’t burn. So she drank. Drank and tried to fill the Sofie sized void in her chest. The one that still thought of Cassius, of her clan of everything that came before. 

Then her jaw opened. And she was pulled away. 

She snarled, confused as to just the fuck was happening. Zofia went to launch herself back at him, but she felt stuck. Like a spider’s delicate webs had stuck to her limbs and were controlling her. 

Like a puppet. 

She felt like she was restrained again. Like she was back there. Had this all been a cruel dream? A joke? Had she never escaped to begin with? Fuck that, fuck all of that- she let out a scream, frantic to be free of the trap. 

____________

He had been walking home from making the bank deposit, something he didn’t do often, but Alistair had insisted after Melody had to tend to her daughter at home who wasn’t feeling well. So with Brutus in hand, he was simply walking home. The sun had already gone down and the bank was just about to close as he arrived. He had almost gotten home when he heard it. With his hearing better because of his loss of sight, he heard whimpering, and not the kind one wanted to hear. Not the good kind.

Using Brutus to see, he almost groaned aloud when he saw her. It was Zofia. Of course it was Zofia. He had to think quickly if he wanted to stop her from killing the man. He hesitated, and for a moment he wondered if he should stop her. No, he had to act. Closing his eyes, he channeled into the magic around him, feeling the surge hit him as soon as he tapped into it. Alistair put a hand out in front of him, and threads of a pale green smoke began to encompass Zofia, attaching to her body like threads. This magic wouldn’t last long, but enough to yank her away from the man. He pulled his hand back, and it yanked her away. The as soon as it had been cast, the magic disappeared. Alistair opened his eyes. He felt his own energy dissipate. 

“You can’t just kill people because you feel like it.” He called out to her, arms crossed over his chest. “And you’re going to get yourself into more trouble if you keep doing that.” He wagged a finger at her, advancing closer like a viper about to strike. The man had long since crumpled to the ground. Alive, but barely. “Dammit, Zofia. I took a chance on you and this is what you do with your time?”

__________

Him. 

She knew him. But he wasn’t from before, he was from after. Why was he here? Maybe it wasn’t a dream- she had gotten out, she was free. Emotions spiraled as she kept chanting the four letter word to herself in her mind: free. 

He was… scolding her? Why was he scolding her, she wasn’t a child. She was easily six times older than he was and he was wagging his finger at her like she was a naughty child with her hand in the cookie jar. “You knew what I was when you took a chance. And I can kill people if I feel like it when they-“

A groan sounded from the other end of the alley, and Zofia’s focus shifted back to the man on the ground. It was almost done, she could finish this. The vampire shifted, ready to strike again. 

But then she saw the man’s blood streaked face. She really saw it. 

And it wasn’t her captor. 

It was someone else entirely. Someone who had the same eyes, perhaps, the same smile…but other than those small details, there was no real resemblance. Her mind had been prepared to condemn him to death for a sin he hadn’t committed. Her eyes widened, and she stared at what she’d done. She pressed bloodstained fingertips to her mouth in horror. 

“Fix it.” She whispered, frantic eyes darting to the blind man and his dog. “I have to fix it. I’ll fix it- you should go. You should go, it’s not safe. Bad things are out this time of night.” She clearly wasn’t having a sane enough day to be around people, and she didn’t want to hurt someone who’d done her the kindness of offering her shelter. 

________

As Alistair held Brutus’s harness a little tighter, he waited. Thankfully, Brutus wouldn’t let harm befall him, but he wasn’t sure if the dog would have time to register it. “Take him to get help and then meet me at the flat. We have things to discuss.” His tone indicated that this wasn’t up for debate. This was a demand. “Don’t make me have to do that again.” He then spoke in a quieter, more desperate tone. It was strange that he was so hard-pressed about controlling the undead and raising the dead when he easily sacrificed people to save someone else. But even still, it was his line in the sand he didn’t like to cross. 

“I can’t fix this mistake. The best you can do is get him to a hospital and leave him there.” He turned around to leave, shaking his head. “Come on, Brutus.” He murmured to his dog, who began to guide him back toward home. Whether she would join him there remained to be seen. As he walked home, he couldn’t help but feel even more idiotic than before. A vampire was going through something, and he let her into his home. Alistair always knew his inability to leave people to struggle would do him in, but not this quickly. She needed real help, and he couldn’t give it. He didn’t know anyone that would be equipped to help her. Then again, he was sure the therapists in Wicked’s Rest had seen some serious shit. 

He needed answers from her that she hadn’t been willing to give in the past. But now, now that Alistair knew she was killing people? He had to do something. He just hoped it didn’t have to be in the form of her as a sacrifice. “Don’t be a fool,” he muttered to himself as he walked. No, he couldn’t do nothing. Not anymore.

Time passed Zofia in a blur. Her mind registered the words he said, at least partially. Dropping a man at the hospital unexplained wasn’t usually an easy task, but when his neck looked as though a hungry animal had gone in for a taste it made things more difficult. She’d made quick work of it, quick as she could. Moving quickly enough so that no one would pay too much notice to ‘the Samaritan dropping off the man’. The blood soaked Samaritan who’d been responsible for the whole affair. 

She left the hospital and made her way through the darkened alleys of town, trying to get her head on straight. It had looked just like him. Sounded like him. It was him, it had to have been- and yet it wasn’t. She should have known the instant his blood touched her tongue and she’d gone unscathed. And yet she’d just gorged herself. Zofia pressed herself flat against a cold concrete wall, willing her thoughts to still. And what if he had deserved it. If he had been a terrible person. She ought to have finished the job- it was a waste that she hadn’t finished eating, what was she doing ?! 

She was of two minds. One that felt remorse, and one that regretted the interruption. The interruption… How had she stopped, she wondered? Alistair. His words in the alley suddenly clicked into place. Turning on her hell, she changed directions, heading to his flat. 

She stood outside the door for ages, trying to decide if she’d knock. Cursing under her breath, she rapped her knuckles against the door and waited. 

_______________________________________

After waiting for what felt like years, Alistair finally heard a soft knock at the door. Yep, that was definitely her. He got off the couch and walked across the flat to open the front door wide enough to let her in. “Start talking.” He insisted as he shut the door behind the footsteps of those who had walked into the flat. His tone wasn’t angry, though it was tense. He was withholding judgment until she told her story. He did not explain his power or that he controlled her. 

In the center of the living room, the rug had been pulled away to reveal a spell circle. It was nothing special, just a large sigil drawn in white paint on the hardwood floor. “I won’t use it if you don’t give me a reason to.” He explained, knowing it would be the first thing Zofia would notice. “I’m sure you have questions for me as well.” He spoke with a huff as he sat on the sofa, Brutus lying down at his feet. He said nothing, only waiting for her to start talking. 

—————————————

Zofia barely walked into the flat. She crossed the threshold, but lingered near the door. She wasn’t about to allow herself to be trapped, not again. And the tension in the air made her feel like the cage was swinging overhead, just waiting for her to step on the trigger. 

Then she saw the sigil. She didn’t know what it meant, or what exactly it would do, but she figured she probably didn’t want to find out. Her eyes tracked him as he made his way to the sofa, sitting with Brutus at his feet. He was probably watching from the dogs perspective, making certain she wasn’t about to strike. 

She stood in silence, trying to find the words to explain herself. She wasn’t certain where to begin. Zofia swallowed, eyeing the door, debating whether it would be better for her to just flee. “I thought he was someone else. He was someone else- the same face. It was him, and then it wasn’t.” She knew she wasn’t making sense, but rational thought had long since parted ways with her. 

“He was sitting there pretending he hadn’t stood there with that smug grin for months- because he didn’t- but I thought it was him. I thought he was there, taunting me. I should have known, the blood wasn’t right. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t him.” She leaned back against the wall, the pressure of it there doing little to soothe the mounting hysteria. Zofia kept wiping her hand against her coat, willing it to be cleansed of the blood that stained it. “I just…. I was like a puppet… How?” 

______________

Before he could stop it, a frustrated noise escaped Alistair’s lips. “That’s not an answer.” He growled. “Who is this man you thought he was? What did they do to you?” He knew he was pressing into something that shouldn’t be pressed, but he was frustrated. “I can’t do shit if you give me nothing to work with!” He threw his hands up, then slapped his thighs as he brought his hands back down. He let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Something happened to you. You went missing long enough for your clothes to be in tatters. Start there, what happened?”

Alistair felt like he was trying to grab hold of air the way he was getting fistfuls of nothing from her non-answers. “Who is him?” He asked again, this time in a much calmer voice. “Sit on the couch with me. Take a deep breath.” He patted the empty seat beside him. He wasn’t going to get anywhere by getting angry with her. If anything, that would drive her right out of the flat and back into the night. He wasn’t about to have her hurt another person. 

When she began to get sidetracked by asking him about how she had been controlled, he felt his frustration rising again. “I’ll explain that later. After you tell me what caused you to attack that man.” Alistair raised a brow, silent and expectant. Brutus, meanwhile, seemed to be perfectly content at his owner’s feet, eyes closed as he snored softly. He couldn’t help but envy his dog, sleeping soundly through what was easily the most frustrating thing he had dealt with all month, and he dealt with a lot.

The more her panic grew, the greater Alistair’s frustration seemed to get. She knew she wasn’t helping him to understand, not with the fragments that her mind kept circling like a starved vulture. Zofia sunk her teeth into her lip, trying to distract herself from her racing thoughts with anything.  And then his tone shifted. Calm. Coaxing. She eyed his hand as he patted the empty spot beside him. 

Zofia slowly inched closer, until she was perched on the far edge of the sofa, keeping a healthy space between them. She figured from where she was, she’d only need a few steps to make it to the door. Or, if it went horribly wrong, she could try to go out the window. She sat still, breathing to center herself rather than out of necessity. 

“I don’t know who they are. I don’t have a name.” She sighed, rubbing at her face. The dog was asleep, so she didn’t need to worry about him seeing her streaked with a strangers blood and deciding she looked like a monster and that he should find a stake. 

“You know about vampires.” Her voice was hollow. As though she could give nothing but the facts of the matter. “So I assume you know about clans. I was part of one in France. Someone has been hunting us for years. I didn’t realize…” she paused, shaking her head. “I was a foolish young thing. You’re impervious to illness, to age… you cheat death and see empires rise and fall. You sit in the lap of luxury and enjoy, never wanting, never hungry, no need to hunt, to fight to survive. And you don’t see the curtain falling.” 

“They killed my sire and her husband about sixty or so years ago.” She closed her eyes. “They were like parents to me. I didn’t realize we had been in any danger until they didn’t come back. Henri- one of the other members of our little family, he and I ran for another ten years. We didn’t know if there was anyone left other than us, and if there were they’d probably gone into hiding. And then Henri vanished… I assumed they got him. I haven’t seen him in half a century.” 

“I was here in town. I had a life here, I was safe here. I had a new family here I had love.” Her voice wobbled. She smothered the sliver of Sofie that cried out as her story was told. Zofia continued, her voice carefully neutral. “In the summer, they found me. I suppose there are still others they’re chasing, others more dangerous than little Sofie DuPont.” She spat the name out. Like it had betrayed her. Like the kindness and trusting nature of that woman had been her downfall. “So they took me. And I sat alone underground, in the dark for months. They tried to get answers and I didn’t have any. They thought I was holding out. So they kept trying… new methods. Of getting me to talk. One day they made a mistake, and I got out. I took their numbers down by one when I left. I thought it only fair.” 

__________

In truth, Alistair didn’t know all that much about vampires. Just the basics: they were real, drank blood, and didn’t like the sun very much. He didn’t bother to explain this to Zofia but attempted to keep up all the same. This clan was a family, then. A family that had been hunted to extinction. He frowned as he took in the new information, head dipping as he processed it all. He didn’t interrupt her as she told her story. It tugged at his heartstrings and left him wanting to take her hand in reassurance. But who’s reassurance? He lifted his hand and slowly drifted it toward the direction of her voice and found it good enough when it landed on her shoulder. 

Sofie Du Pont was a new name that she used in malice. It differed from the name she had introduced herself with, Zofia Kowalska. “So this old you, this Sofie Du Pont.” He began, keeping his hand stead on her shoulder. “She was hunted along with the rest of her clan.” He began to repeat the facts back at her to ensure he was getting it all right. “And she was captured and tortured for information. Information she didn’t have.” His frown deepened, and he shifted his weight as he let his hand drop to hers. “Sofie Du Pont died then, didn’t she? That old life she had, it was lost with her innocence.” 

He knew what it was like to be hated for what he was. He hadn’t been hunted for sport, but he could understand it to a fraction. “Zofia Kowalska, your real name, then.” He deduced as he crossed one leg over the other. He focused on the sound of Brutus’s breathing momentarily before continuing. “So this person you attacked, you kept saying he was this guy he wasn’t. Your tormentor?” His voice was quiet, as if he feared saying the wrong thing. “I can’t say for certain if these hunters are still around. I’m sure you did a number on them.” He frowned, knowing that housing her could spell trouble for him in the long term. But he’d never turned someone away before. He always helped. “I’ll keep you as safe as I can here. Look into someone to do some basic protection magic around here.” 

Alistair sighed, realizing it was his turn to explain things. “I told you before that I wield magic.” He began, shifting his body in the direction of Zofia’s voice. “I’m a necromancer.” There, he had said it. No going back now. “Death magic, if you will. And since you are dead, I can control you if I need to. Because I saw you killing someone, I used it to get you off of him. It's not a big ritual. That comes with sigils.” He gestured vaguely at the ground, referring to the spell circle he had drawn out on the floor. The paint was raised, undoubtedly so that he could feel where everything was. “What I did back in the ally was a very temporary spell. The more complexities I put into it, the more effective it can become.” He removed his glasses, revealing the burn scars covering the top half of his face. “The glasses I wear are enchanted. They hide the sacrifice I gave to heal someone.” He didn’t mention that it hadn’t worked. “The way I use necromancy is to heal people. But like all magic, it comes with a big price tag.” He put his hands out before him, tipping them like a scale. “To heal someone,” he raised one hand higher than the other, “another must take on their wounds.” He lofted the other hand high. “Balance must be maintained. Necromancy is all about balance. To bring someone back from death, another must die.” He fell silent, waiting for her to say something. “Now we know each other better.”

————————————————————-

Her eyes opened as the weight of a hand settled on her shoulder. She flinched in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. It was like having a tether for a boat in a storm so it didn’t drift off and get dragged out to sea. “They were French, I lived in France for the most part… I was a new thing. I thought a new name fit.” Her eyes settled shut when his hand found hers, recounting the end of her story. Zofia let out a ragged breath, leaning back into the cushion of the couch, wishing it would magically open up and swallow her whole. “She did. She’s still in here I think… like a ghost in a haunted house. She drifts through sometimes. But I can’t be her anymore.”

“My birth name, yes.” She confirmed. They sat in silence a beat before he continued. As he spoke, Zofia’s heart ached in her chest. The gentleness is what broke her. She sniffled, pulling herself away from comfort she did not deserve. “It wasn’t him.” Guilt dripped from her words. “I thought it was him, but it wasn’t… it was so real though- I.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “He looked like who I assumed was the leader of the operation.” Her voice was void of expression as she fought to keep herself stead, hastily swiping at tears before they could fall. “I only got out because they’d only left one behind to guard. They didn’t think I was a threat. If it had been more than one. I’d likely be making my eternal resting place on the inside of some bastard's vacuum cleaner.” 

Her eyes darted over at his offer and she shook her head. “I’m more trouble than I’m worth. I may too by on occasion, but I will not stay long enough to bring trouble to your door. You don’t want to deal with these people.”

Zofia watched carefully as he explained his side of the story. Her heart ached a little as he half explained what had happened to his eyes. She hoped that whatever he’d saved for the cost of his sight, that the price had been worth it. “Could you have borrowed from me?” She asked, unsure of how it worked. “To fix him?  Or no, because I’m not alive, technically.” 

____________________

Alistair thought for a moment. It was easy to separate the person he was before he lost Mikael from the person he was after he lost him. After all, it had been defined by more than just losing him. The loss of his sight had defined it, and as a result, a loss of the career he had left his family for. “I get it,” he spoke, voice almost a whisper with how quiet it was. He didn’t talk about this stuff. Not even Melody knew much about his time before Mikael. All of it was just too painful for him. What he’d lost, the treatment given to him by his parents, all of it. “She’ll always be there, even if you don’t want her to be. She’s who you are, even if you don’t want to see it. She’s still you, but she’s been molded by trauma.” 

“No,” Alistair spoke as she recounted the man she had attacked. “He wasn’t. You have to learn not to trust your own mind for a little bit.” He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I had a partner. We were together for eight years. Not the point. Point is, he got taken one night by a deranged psycho who wanted the family secrets. He got hurt, and I couldn’t save him. I kept seeing the man who hurt him all over the place, but it was never him. I was so hung up on finding him that I lost myself for a bit. Took a while to pick up the pieces.” He blinked, eyes glancing over in her general direction. “It’s okay to take a while to pick up the pieces, Zofia.” His voice was gentle. He didn’t know if she would be receptive to his words, but he had to try at least to appeal to the part of her that wasn’t driven mad by bloodlust. 

“I know I don’t have to help you, and I know the dangers. But I took you in, I don’t intend on casting you out just because a spooky bad guy is after you.” Alistair waved a hand, the notion itself ridiculous to him. “If you’ll let me, I’m here to help. It’s kinda what I do.” 

He frowned as she asked if he could have fixed him. “No, when they’re that hurt, it takes a one-to-one comparison. If he were human, I’d need to use a human sacrifice. If he were a fae, I’d need a fae. So on and so on.” He took a moment, adjusting his position in his seat. “In the shop, I have a back room. I heal people there. Some don’t know the extent of the damage they do to someone else to heal them. Others do and just don’t care. I take the bad people and use them as sacrifices for the more mundane healings. When it’s more complex, things get dicey. Sometimes, I get lucky, and I have the correct species. Sometimes, I don’t. Sometimes people die anyway when a spell doesn’t go right.” He pointed at his eyes when he referenced a spell not going right. He slid his sunglasses back onto his face after pointing to himself. “I’m not letting you leave just because you don’t think you’re worth saving. I think you’re worth saving, which must count for something.”

‘I understand’ always felt like one of those things people said to be kind, but they didn’t really understand. Not this time, though. Zofia didn’t know what had happened to him in his life to know what it was like to be haunted by the ghost of who he’d been before, but he described it well enough to know it wasn’t just an attempt to make her feel better. The more he talked, the more pieces of his puzzle began to fall into place. She couldn’t imagine losing a partner in that fashion. But she knew what it was like to lose people she cared for. Knew that one day or eight years or half a century later, while it might become less sharp with time, that pain never really went away. Not fully. And there were still days where it hurt as badly as the day it had torn her heart apart. 

Slowly she began to unwind from herself, to come out of the corner of the sofa she’d tucked herself into. She didn’t know if this was magic too. He could control her if he wanted to, and she supposed that ought to make her angry. Angry enough to lash out at him. But then the image of an innocent man’s bloodied face appearing from the haze she had been in crept across her mind. Zofia could deal with being controlled a little, she supposed. If only to protect her from herself. 

She blinked, looking at him in surprise. “You just. Have a stock of bad people on hand? For healing purposes? What determines a bad person?” A soft, crazed giggle erupted. “If you didn’t know my story would I be bad? I’m certainly not good.” Her mind trailed to the handful of lookalikes she’d drained out of hunger and some half crazed attempt to get a message across. That was just her need for blood tangling with the pain that Cassius had seemed to move on without looking for a way to help her. And she still didn’t feel guilty about it. She didn’t feel much of anything about it, and she knew she ought to. 

Worth saving. Those words rattled something deep inside her. “Why?” She asked, her voice unsteady and thick. “What makes me worth saving?”

_________

Pulling a face, Alistair shook his head at her words. “I wouldn’t call it a stockpile. One at a time, really.” It was strange to talk about the truth of what he did. If the wrong person found out, surely he’d be run out of town or worse. He then thought for a long moment, frowning. “The people I deal with don’t have redeeming qualities.” He spoke bluntly as he got more comfortable in his seat. He didn’t seem to know how to sit properly in a seat without splaying his legs out and leaning back with an arm against the back of the couch. “They’re werewolves that constantly kill, vampires that have lost themselves in their bloodlust.” He raised a brow, expression pointed. “You haven’t lost yourself to it. You’re just…” he waved his hands in the air as he tried to devise a way to put it. “Just a touch traumatized.” He gave a wry smile, knowing it wasn’t an elegant way of putting it. But he was never one for elegance, anyway.

“What makes you worth saving?” He questioned back at her. He thought for a moment, wondering if there was a way not to say what he felt deep in his gut. “What makes you worth saving isn’t about you.” He confessed, knowing he was helping her for purely selfish reasons. “I helped you because no one was there when I needed help.” There, he had put it out into the open. She could either accept that or she couldn’t. Either way, he had spoken his truth. “Despite everything against her, I recognize someone who survived and crawled her way back out from six feet under.” His words were gentle as if he were afraid of spooking her. “So yes, you’re someone worth saving. You just may not see it. May not want to see it. And that’s okay. It’s something to work towards as you try to get yourself back on your feet.”

She wondered if he’d still say the same thing if he knew about the handful of Cassius look-alikes she’d left strewn about town. Zofia doubted he’d be able to find a way to call that redeemable. The first few days of freedom had been difficult. She’d been on edge. She still heard people that weren’t there, still felt eyes on her no matter where she went. Some primal part of herself told her to drink, and some scorned, betrayed part of herself told her to make a point. She shifted, uncomfortable as her train of thought led her to question what exactly about her was redeemable. She took the thought and stuffed it far away in a dark corner of her mind to address it some other time. 

And yet there he was, continuing to talk and taking that box that she’d hastily tucked away in the shadows of her mind and shining a spotlight on it. She let out a long, heavy sigh as she studied him. He’d clearly been through the darkness before. He seemed to have come out the other side in tact. The ghost that haunted her thoughts reached toward that, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t too late to turn back from the ledge she’d found herself at the top of. “If I found them,” She started slowly. “And I was certain I was right. Would you still stop me from finishing it?” From putting the damn nightmare to an end. Maybe then she could rest easier. Maybe then she could rebuild with the confidence that she wouldn’t have to burn the rest of the world down to protect what was hers.

____________________________________________________________________________

The necromancer fell silent for a long moment, expression unchanging as he digested the information that Zofia had given him. “I know you’re a vampire. I know you need blood to live.” He began, mulling the idea like a sommelier tasting a good wine. “But you don’t need to kill ‘em to do it, do you?” Alistair was trying to prove a point. “You can choose to fight what you’ve become or can’t. In which case, I feel a need to step in.” He decided honesty would be the best choice of action in this situation. He didn’t know what she could do, and maybe he was a complete idiot for taking the woman under his wing. He was projecting his shit onto someone who couldn’t even distinguish real life from her demons. “Fuck.” He muttered to himself as he made the revelation. 

“You tell me everything else you’ve done. Going to have more than just those hunters showin’ up on the bloody door.” Alistair grumbled to himself as he stood up to start pacing around. He was a fool for pitying someone he should’ve walked away from. She’d have more than just the slayers that wronged her in the first place if she didn’t begin to clean up her act. “Make an effort to stop yourself from killing innocent people like you did tonight. And you’ll tell me who else you’ve been killing while at it. Otherwise, you get the fuck out of my flat, and you never come back. Do you understand me?” He raised a finger toward where he thought she may have been, but it was a bit off the mark, pointing to the right of her instead of directly at her. 

He took a second to realize what he had just said and relaxed. “Sorry, I’m just. I’ve had a long day.” Of course, Alistair had a long day. Today was the anniversary of Mikael’s death. He didn’t talk about it. He never talked about it. Not even to Melody. “It’s a bad day for me. Memories of things best left to forget, you understand.” He fell back onto the couch, having half a mind to march to his room and hide for the rest of the night. “But I need you to understand that killing people won’t fix your problems. Killing the right people might, but you’re still going to have the same trauma. You might think it’ll fix you, but it won’t.” He swallowed, eyes a million miles away. “Trust me.”

—————————————————————

Zofia thought this must be how cornered animals felt. As he spoke, his ire seemed to grow. Moving as quiet as she could, she got back up off the couch and took several steps back to position herself in front of a window. He demanded the truth. Honesty. And yet he’d already said that the kind of beasts he kept caged away were ones that had lost themselves to bloodlust. If she told him the truth, there was a high chance she wound up puppeted into walking down to his shop and sitting herself down in his back room, waiting for some more deserving soul to have her life force siphoned away to heal their own. She’d go right back to being trapped. 

But he asked her to trust him. 

She hadn’t been able to trust anyone in so long. Not even herself. Some part of her still wanted to believe that maybe she could trust something. Even if it was a total stranger who’s dog seemed to like her for some inexplicable reason. 

“I couldn’t drink from hunters if I wanted to,” she muttered, eyes flicking around the space as she weighed her options. Out the window? Tell the truth? Risk the magic sigil on the floor? “Their blood is like acid to us.” Zofia didn’t know why she was explaining all this. Maybe she was just stalling for time. She understood having bad days, bad months, bad years- bad moments full of bad memories she’d love to leave behind in the dirt. But would rehashing them make any of this better? Would telling him what she’d done make either of their bad memories quiet down for a moment? Her eyes settled on Brutus, faithfully sat next to Alistair. Was she really about to tell him what she’d done because she trusted the dog? The vampire sighed. Maybe she had lost her mind. She pressed her back to the glass of the window, prepared to shove herself out it at the first sign of danger. 

“Three dead.” She said quietly. “If you think my state of mind is poor now, it was worse a few weeks ago. I’d been left for dead and I thought someone would have come looking for me but he-“ she swallowed, realizing there were so many missing puzzle pieces for him. “I had someone, before. They moved on in the months I was gone. They said they looked, said they’d tried, but they replaced me.” A chill crept into her voice, her eyes downcast. “I came back, and he’d moved on. And I…” she shook her head, not wanting to elaborate. “They looked like him. They weren’t. They never could be. No more dead after the hunter when I escaped and those three.” She held her breath, waiting to see if she’d have to run. 

_______

There was a long stretch of silence after Zofia told him the truth. He looked over to the window, able to see her outline because of the street lights that shone through, casting her silhouette. He could see light and shadow–Not well, but he could. He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It was a lot of information to swallow. “This man that you…” he trailed off, that wasn’t a good way to put it. Start over. “This man, is he in trouble? Do you think you’re capable of killing him?” Alistair needed to know the answer. He needed to know if he was boarding a serial killer or not. 

“Three,” he whispered, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head. Three was a lot. Hell, one was a lot, but he wasn’t about to admit that when he had a sizable portfolio of injured or dead people, all in the name of fixing someone else. “Three’s a lot, Zofia,” Alistair murmured, still rubbing a hand over his face as he took in the details. He lifted his head skyward, staring up at the ceiling for a long time. He said nothing, only stood there, lost in thought.

“I’m not innocent from killin’ people neither, but that doesn’t… that was in malice, not survival.” Alsitair's shoulders slumped, and his head turned back toward her as he continued to digest. “I’m not gonna make you one of my victims.” He spoke, deciding he needed to get that out of the way before he continued. “I’m not going to control you again unless you try to kill me or someone else important to me. Or another innocent.” He tilted his head side to side as if weighing his options. “Don’t. Make me regret helping you.” He finally said, voice serious. “Get help. Serious help. Talk to a therapist about what happened to you. Don’t tell them the vampire and murder details, but fuckin’ talk to someone. Because the more you bottle this shit up, the worse it will get for you.” His eyes were wide as he stared into space. “I…” he trailed off again, pursing his lips as he struggled to get out the words. “I’ll help you. But you have to help yourself, too.”“No.” The answer came out surprisingly easy. Even if she wanted to hurt Cassius, he had an Elder Vampire who’d destroy her before she could so much as touch a hair in his head. But she didn’t. She’d been scratching at her own hand like a tragic character from a Shakespeare play, wishing she could find a way to turn back the clock and take it back, or find some way to absolve herself of that sin. “No.” 

She watched him as he processed the information. Tried to determine if his breathing had changed, if he’d shifted, if his fingers had moved in any meaningful way. She waited. And waited. And then he said the words she needed to hear. 

Zofia’s tightly coiled nerves loosened a touch, slouching against the window. “I won’t hurt you.” She didn’t have the energy to sound offended or hurt at the implication that she’d aim for him. If they hadn’t met the way they had, it would have been possible that she’d set her sights on him for a midnight snack. But since she’d been back, he was one of the few glimmers of light she’d found. Him and that dog who sat and watched them both. They’d been kind. She needed that, after so long in the dark. She didn’t want to risk the little twinkle of light going away. 

“Okay.” It came out just above a whisper. She’d agree. If only to keep the speck of light. 

“Right,” Alistair spoke, un-crossing his arms over his chest and shuffling his weight from foot to foot. He could sense her mounting distress and unease. This man she spoke of wasn’t in danger so he could rest easy. “Come here,” he said, voice soft. He held his arms out, knowing that the last thing Zofia needed right now was to be pushed away further. He wouldn’t hurt her, and he wanted to show her that.

She’d agreed to go and see someone, someone that wasn’t him. He couldn’t help her like that. He wasn’t put together. He couldn’t even get to see a counselor, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. She’d see him as a hypocrite and not do what he told her to. His arms remained outstretched, and for a moment, he thought about dropping them. But if his hunch was correct, he expected her to reciprocate the hug he offered her.

Zofia stared at him. He was standing there, arms outstretched. His voice was gentle. Her eyes strayed to the sigil on the floor. She took a hesitant step toward him. He didn’t move to activate it. She took another step toward him. He made no move to control her. 

Trust me. The words rattled around in her chest before lodging itself somewhere behind her collarbone. She kept taking quiet steps toward him until she was a foot away. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe- waiting one second longer to see if he’d change his mind, to see if the little light would snuff itself out.

 He stayed, arms outstretched. 

Zofia stepped into the embrace, still poised to run at the first sign of a change of heart. It still didn’t come. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to settle into the feeling of letting herself be comforted again. The two words that had settled behind her collarbone felt warm. Like the truth. Like the right choice, for now at least. So she stayed, and trusted him. 

——-

Alistair began to channel magic into his grasp as soon as she embraced him. The tendrils, like smoke, began to converge towards Zofia. He could do it. All he had to do was cast. He swallowed, pushing Zofia away with a frown. “Step out of the circle,” he warned her in a broken voice. “And you should…” he frowned, quickly stepping out of the spell circle. ”You should probably find somewhere to live that isn’t with a necromancer that could control you.” 

His eyes flickered back and forth as he tried to get his head on straight. He didn’t want to control her, and every nerve ending in his body was screaming to cast that spell. “You have forty-eight hours to collect your things and find somewhere else to live.” Alistair gritted his teeth as he spoke, running a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, but it’s… it’s for the best.” He paced back and forth through the apartment, realizing he could be making a big mistake by not holding her back.

“I’m sorry, Zofia. You deserve to be in the care of someone who doesn’t have the potential to control your every move. I’m not good to be around. I didn’t think this through, and it’s on me.” He groaned, warring with the thoughts in his head. “If you need sanctuary at the shop, let me know. But I don’t think that you living here is a good idea.”

She was forced back, whatever brief comfort she’d found in being held quickly fizzling out like a candle in a rain storm. There it was. There it was. She smiled a bitter, sad thing. He’d witnessed the monster and no matter how many arrows the beast had in it’s hide, he was prepared to fire another volley at its heart. At her. 

Zofia moved out of the circle.”Save your apologies.” She didn’t bother to put any energy behind the statement. The words tasted bitter as they fell from her mouth. “I’ll be gone tonight. Won’t have to worry about whether or not the big bad beastie is lurking in your guest room any longer. 

The corner of her mouth ticked, and she stood up taller. “I don’t need to be in anyone’s care.” She hurried to the guest room and threw what little she had into a bag. She walked back out into the space, taking a good look at the man. He’d do it, wouldn’t he? Control her. And what then? She’d be trapped again. A different sort of trapped, but trapped nonetheless. And she had promised herself that she would not let herself be trapped again. 

“I hope you have a nice, long life, Alistair.” She said, anger coloring the edges of her voice. “Lovely meeting you Brutus.” She nodded to the dog. At least the dog had liked her. Before the necromancer could change his mind, she got out of the apartment as quick as she could. When she’d finally put a good amount of distance between herself and the flat, she let out a frustrated scream. Starting over, yet again.

[stageplayhero]

YOU KNOW, IT’S SUCH A SHAME THAT THINGS HAVE BEEN SO PEACEFUL AROUND HERE. CATERPILLARS? REALLY?

WHAT DO YOU SAY I UP THE ANTE? I HAVE PUT MARK TO SLEEP. ONLY FOR A LITTLE WHILE, SO WE CAN HAVE SOME… PERSONAL TIME.

:)

[entitytcken-a]

@chaosmultiverse || cont. from here

🎀Charlotte sighed softly, her hand lightly resting on Evan’s shoulder as she looked from him to the ground. Of course she couldn’t force Evan to tell her... After all, he was her friend, even if Mike had told her time and time again to not bother with him. “Alright... I won’t push, but you know whatever is bothering you; you can tell me okay? I promise I won’t tell anyone.” She even went the extra mile to hold out her pinky to Evan with a small smile to try and help reassure him.

[courtporatelawyer]

A friend and I came up with this really interesting TDI “red thread of fate” AU where Courtney’s soulmate (we chose Heather because in the context of this scenario it made the most sense) used the red thread like puppet strings, manipulating and using courtney’s undying love to get ahead. Because the two are soulmates, Courtney cannot escape her fate of being strung along for as long as she lives, until she meets Duncan, who ends up severing Courtney’s thread, causing her to defy fate, and truly fall in love.

(If you’d like to actually write a fic/draw something for this AU I would LOVE to see it, as I think it’s a pretty neat concept!)

[kaiidos]

A sun at night, a phantom in the light, as is the preordained fate of us all. That we may give and take for all and nothing, yet see no reward in our achievements and reflection. Never do we live for ourselves. How tragic it is, that we are predisposed to create, yet never hold the time to do so.

[thebigshotman]

*…WH4T 1S TH1S [[Trade Offer:]]??? 1T BETT3R BE G00D.

(As he waits for the voice to respond, he is suddenly aware that there is perpetually the sound of hands typing at a keyboard under her voice. Perhaps there’s some sort of truth to her words…

*I’ll…shut up. Or, uh, try to…we’re still connected, after all. But please…try to calm down and genuinely let these people change your mind. I can guarantee you, no one wants you to sacrifice yourself like this.

*4ND 1F I’M [[if not completely satisfied,]]???

*I’ll…oh god I can’t believe I’m doing this…

*I’ll…allow you access to the NEO body. One last time. That’s how certain I am that this is the wrong choice. But if nothing shakes you…I will bend my strings and let you do as you want.

*But please, please please please…let their words actually sink in. You don’t want this, Spaul. Trust me.

*…F1NE.FINE-FIN3-[[there’s nothing wrong!]]. I ACCEPT TH3 [[deal]].

*It’s not a deal ya silly-Ugh, I guess I have to shut up now.

*Please, everyone out there…don’t screw this up.

(All that remains of her voice is the clicking of the keyboard. Still there, but forcing herself to be silent.)

(Questions to The String Puller are still available, but she won’t be as talkative during normal questions now. Ask away!)

[radiance1]

Alfred Pennyworth has in fact, perhaps, in the slightest of chances.

Picked up his Master's habit of collecting children as if they were on sale.

He was spending his time on one of those rare vacations he decided to take, it was nice, to relax with only the vague overhanging worry of something going wrong back at the manor that he's gotten very good at ignoring.

Only to come across a child bleeding out in an alley, heavily injured.

He would not be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to help them however he could.

Such is how he acquired a child he later found to be a meta who whished to learn the ways of a butler.

---

Danny had escaped from a GIW compound, after having been handed over by his family a while after his reveal. He felt, completely and utterly betrayed, when it happened. His parents, while hurt, he was at least capable of actually seeing them do it, but never would he have thought Jazz would do so as well.

They did it so happily, that he wondered if letting him go really was the greatest thing to happen to this family.

He chained, muzzled, all the ways to bind him they pulled all the stops too, knowing how dangerous he was. He wouldn't have even done anything then, too stunned by his families apart willingness at handing him over to the government.

He hated them.

He hated them so much.

The GIW facility was a terrible, cold, unfeeling place. One where they drilled thoughts into his head again and again until he found himself unconsciously repeating them when his head felt empty, one where his body gained a new mark day by day and pushed through tests, he had no clue of even hoping to comprehend what they would gain out of it.

It was a cold, unfeeling place. Placed in a cell of white and nothing else, with low walls and chains binding his body in place until the time came for another experiment.

It was a room he grew used to. One he even held some kind of strange, twisted affection for.

It was a room that held a tiny piece of safety, of rest. It was a room that taught him to hate.

A deep, powerful, disgusting, twisting hatred that crawled from the depths of his cells, corrupting his blood and carving itself deep into his bones. Forcing it's out of his pores until it practically oozed from his flesh.

It drowned his mind, tainting each and every thought, every memory, every dream, every waking moment until he could feel nothing but hatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehatehate.

When he was taken out of that he could feel nothing, with the drugs swimming their way through his blood that snapped the thin string keeping him between a person and an emotionless puppet.

He thinks that's what the GIW thinks he is.

And when he was placed back in that room, he could only hate.

It was a cycle. Stuck between feeling either nothing or hatred.

He hated feeling nothing, it made him feel like he wasn't real. Like it snapped the thread that held him between what a real person was and a dream.

So, he allowed himself to drown deep into his hatred. Until the white walls of his far to small room seemed to fade, until whatever sound he could have heard became nothing but dull noise.

Until the passage of time seemed to become just a blink.

He didn't know what day it was, when he saw it. Saw them. He didn't know the time, the date, the day, the hours. He knew nothing.

But he could recognize his family. Recognize one of the objects of his intense hatred that he forced his thoughts too. The people who willingly gave him up just like that and one of the causes for his current life.

He didn't know why they showed him them, he felt it some sick, utterly cruel joke. A joke he didn't know the punchline for, a joke the universe sent his way to make his life all the more miserable.

There were multiple of them. Multiple clones of his family. Som within test tubes, some being pulled out from the tubes, some walking around in lab coats. A waste of talent, they called it in his dad's case, a waste of intelligence in his mother's, and a waste of intellect in his sister's case.

His original family was already dead, he was told. Replaced by clones, clones that took over the legal decision to change his guardianship. Clones walking around twisting and desecrating his family.

'At least it was painless.' One of the clones said, talking with his mother's face. 'Far more than they deserved for having keeping a thing like him' spoken by his father's imposter.

The drugs pumping through his system to keep him calm, to keep him feeling nothing was suddenly pierced through by an intense feeling of horror, hate and self-loathing.

He should've known it wasn't his family. He should've done more! More to protect them! To keep them safe! The could've still been alive if he just knew.

In that moment, watching imposters speaking, walking, talking, breathing, with his families faces. He exploded. Exploded with a power fueled by nothing but his intense hatred for every. Single. Living being in this goddamn facility.

He killed whoever stood in his way. Managing to get his hands on relatively newly designed weapon, an ectoplasmic scythe (that also apparently could revert into an everyday item). Which he used to rip and tear throughout the entirety of the facility. He got injured, of course, he couldn't dodge everything, but he didn't care.

A body stuck between life and death, incapable of fully going one way or the other no matter what happened. Gifted supernatural powers fueled by wrath and twisting hatred and a weapon made by man yet in the range of the supernatural.

They didn't stand a change. He killed them all. No matter who it was, man, woman, clone. He didn't, couldn't care. He could only kill, only maim, only hurt.

And that's what he did.

It was then, when the facility was blanketed with silence tainted by despair, death and hysteria. When previously white walls were covered by blood, and the halls turned into rivers of blood and corpses. That he broke down, the overwhelming hatred he felt replaced by relief then sadness then self-loathing.

His family didn't give him up! But they were killed. Kill because of him. He couldn't stand being in this place, anymore. His body felt as if it were moving on unseen strings as it walked through the halls, the scythe shrinking back what it was when out of combat, his mind too occupied by thoughts and feelings.

It walked through a portal, one to the ghost zone, and then promptly into another portal and spat him out into an alleyway. Which he then promptly collapsed and curled into a ball, curing the shrunken scythe in his palm and he was out like a light.

A few days after he woke up, he found himself growing attached to the human that found him in that alleyway. An old man, maybe, but a nice one. He didn't want to meet anyone, besides that man, so he turned invisible when anyone else come into contact with him.

Alfred Pennyworth.

It was a name he clung onto mentally and a man he clung onto physically as well. He wanted to be like that man, someone so nice and caring, someone who didn't mind that he turned invisible at the sing of another person, who let him cling onto him both invisible and not whenever he wanted to.

He did panic when he heard Alred saying his vacation was over, and such that he had to leave. He didn't want to be left alone again, he didn't know what he would do if he was left alone again.

Until Afred said we were going home.

We. As in, him plus another. Alfred plus Danny.

Home.

Heat blossomed in his chest, seeming to replace the constant, low hum of hate sitting beneath him skin.

Home.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ ⿻ ･ HOLY IS THE LOVE THAT SAVED ME ( part i. )

HOW DELICATE LOVE IS , THIS EBB & FLOW OF SERENITY.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ scaramouche ･ kaeya ･ diluc. genshin impact. title cr : juniper vale. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ scaramouche

a puppet is meant to be devoid of life : controlled by another, actions unknown and unwarranted through strings, all of them crimson and none connected to fate. a vessel birthed by curiosity, filled with anger and spite and selfishness and a yearning to be more.

"i don't think you're made of cruelty." your fingers thread through his hair, sweep the strays that cling to his face. your voice has always kept him grounded and safe, but there is something in the words that makes blood run cold with trepidation.

you are lying.

he wants to accuse you, deny you of this tenderness that resides inside of him ( but where does it go? where does it settle when there is no place for it? A PUPPET HAS NO HEART, AFTER ALL. )

he almost forgets this sometimes, the absence of a pulse. it is a dreadful thing that haunts him, makes him long for a heart, rid of the incomplete. but you-- you, who taught him what love is and what it is to be human even without the core of being. he wants to live, wants to be and not have to fear that he is empty and undeserving.

because love is something you share and it frightens him because it doesn't make sense. because he isn't worthy in the first place, because he shouldn't be capable of feeling something as kind as love when all he knows is fury and sadness unspoken.

your fingers run over his skin, linger on his neck-- you pause and feel the lack of a heartbeat. it scares him. he stills, waits for the repulsion. the disgust.

it never comes. ( of course it doesn't. in every moment spent with you, you have never expressed disdain at who he was. you are foolish and he is cowardly. how hand in hand you are meant to be. )

"it's okay." you remind him, time and time again, your lips gentle against his temple. "you are still human with or without a heart."

he frowns at the heat that rushes to his face, acts indifferent to your words even though he will remember them until the end of time.

"you lie too much."

you see through his facade, smile when he avoids eye contact with you.

"maybe you'll learn to believe it if i keep telling you."

( he is torn between the desire to believe in your words and heavy doubt that tells him of his unworthiness. but he'll listen for now, and hope that he will find the heart that deems him worthy of existence. )

❀ ﾟ. ༄ kaeya

kaeya will always be a mystery, you've come to realize, even in the hands of love. unreadable, unpredictable in his endeavors, words laced with silk and lies.

you don't expect to learn everything about him-- even in your familiarity, you've yet to know much about his past. vulnerability is too great a thing; he does not ever think he can allow himself it again.

( -- so he thinks, but how easily does he unravel in your presence. )

you think kaeya looks beautiful in the moonlight. the way it shines brightly on his tired features, the devilish facade only breaking the slightest bit in the night hours. you've always told him that he was beautiful and you remember the first time so vividly-- a few seconds of his utter bafflement followed by rambunctious laughter.

"admiring me so late at night? scandalous." he grins when you roll your eyes. "have you fallen in love with me again?"

"again?"

he's quick to grab you and pull you towards him, your laughter filling the bedroom when he kisses your cheek. kaeya has met many people before, remembered each and every one of them-- but you are different in all the right ways-- your first meeting a memory he carries so carefully with him.

"are you implying you're not in love with me?" he asks. you're almost impressed by the feign hurt on his visage.

"are you in love with me?"

the room goes silent. you pause, swallow hard as to brace yourself for the answer.

"you say it first."

"you--" you gasp in exasperation, the insults dying down on your tongue when he kisses you again. "fine, fine. i love you, kaeya."

it's quiet again. you expect him to return the words immediately, but there is something in his smile that makes your heart hurt just a little bit and you don't know why.

kaeya is very much in love with you and knows you reciprocate that love. he doesn't understand why -- because he knows that somewhere underneath all this happiness, that you deserve better, that you deserve to know who you love, rather than be in love with someone made of false pretenses and superficials.

but maybe-- one day, he hopes, he will be able to wear his heart on his sleeve with you, and he hopes you will love him all the same. a selfish dream-- likely unobtainable, but he will play the fool and consider the possibility of a happy ending with you.

"what a coincidence. i just so happen to love you, too."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ diluc

gentle are the hands calloused and scarred from battles unforgotten. diluc shivers when your fingertips gingerly trace the lines of his palms. you do not notice this ; your gaze dropped, mind elsewhere.

where did you get these, you wonder, a sickening tightness in your chest that worsens as you fall deeper into the rabbit hole, and how long did it take to heal from the hurt?

your mind treads to depths unknown, a dangerous spiral of worriment running rampant. you are in love with diluc-- an honorable man perturbed by his past and present, a lone vigilante. one who carries too much weight by himself, heavy shoulders aching and aching until the bruises sink deeper, overwhelming him with purple and blue hues.

diluc leans towards you, bows ever so slightly until he can meet your gaze. you look up-- just barely, enough to catch his worried visage under butterfly lashes, and you cannot tell whether your heart's burden lessens or grows at the sight of the person you love.

he has always understood you, even when words failed and silence reigned in its place. there is a subtle affliction of heartache in red eyes when you look away.

"i am here with you." diluc begins with a gentle reminder. "will you look at me?"

so you do. you look at him, eyes welling up with tears at the tender smile he greets you with. another step forward, a close intimacy, and the feeling of his forehead against yours. you do not think you have ever felt so safe before, the beating of your heart slowing when his arms wrap around your frame.

"the world could not take me away from the one i love." he tells you; in those words is a promise of forever and better times. "even when we're apart, you are always in my mind. i will always return to you."

you want to tear your gaze away, hide the tears, but they fall quickly at his resolve. you know this already. you know of diluc's promises and his loyalty and his love, and he knows of yours, through and through. there is nothing that could separate you.

he wipes the tears away and you murmur an apology out of instinct, but he's quick to dismiss it with a quiet laugh and gentle reassurances.

"you know i'll always find my way back to you, too, right?"

diluc kisses you with adoration and you feel him smile against your lips.

"i know."

[empty-movement]

Bud of the White Rose: EVERYTHING

HEY. HI. VANNA HERE. Yes, I've seen the countless messages, mostly on Tumblr, begging for links to download the musical, a static accessible copy of the script, and lyrics in Japanese for the main banger, Absolute Darkness: The Rose Garden.

I've procrastinated on this for many reasons! The script was worked out live in the subtitles, making it...kinda hard to translate back into a normal format. Thanks Notepad++ as always for that one. Also, I've felt like I should make a website for this content, and I still think that, but it also has impeded my sharing the content, and that sucks. But you know what? WE HAVE A FORUM. And unlike Discord, this will be archived and permanent! (Yes, I will do the 2019 Black Rose one as well, gimmie time)

2018's Musical Utena ~ Bud of the White Rose: Script & Everything Else!

(Oh, did you want the 2019 Blooming Rose of Deepest Black? Made that post too!!)

Ok fine, I know most of you want the banger lyrics and are too lazy to click for the thread:

M6: Absolute Darkness: The Rose Garden (plays after Saionji loses the duel) (Note, the romanization is via google, though I did check that it sounded right! The Japanese is from the program book.)

WAKABA: Wrapped in a nostalgic fragrance…​ 懐かしい香りに包まれた​ Natsukashii kaori ni tsutsuma reta​ NANAMI: …sealed with the wax crest of a red rose, a formal invitation arrives.​ 赤い薔薇の刻印に 飾られた招待状​ Akai bara no kokuin ni kazara reta shoutaijou​ MIKI: A white rose is pinned to the chest, this becomes the target.​ 胸に差した白き 薔薇を目印にして​ Mune ni sashita shiroki bara wo mejirushi ni shite​ JURI: The desperate search for you, a pursuit that begins on the night of the ball.​ 君を探し求める 舞踏会の夜​ Kimi wo sagashimotomeru budoukai no yoru​ SAIONJI: A heavy gate opens… and then! The sharp point of a sword—​ 重い扉は開き 鋭き剣先は​ Omoi tobira ha hiraki surudoki kensaki ha​ TOUGA: …plucks at the strings of destiny, and the music swells…​ 運命の音楽つま弾く​ Unmei no ongaku tsumabiku​

EVERYONE: The two of you begin to dance, and before long hurt one another.​ 君と君を求む者が舞う やがて互いを傷つける​ Kimi to kimi wo motomu mono ga mau yagate tagai wo kizutsukeru​ EVERYONE: A dance turned to a duel. Just like puppets…​ 決闘と化し まるで人形のように​ Kettou to kashi marude ningyou no you ni​ EVERYONE: …at the mercy of a god’s rhythm, two shadows suspended in absolute darkness.​ 神のリズムに翻弄される 漆黒に浮かぶ 二人の影​ Kami no rizumu ni honrou sareru shikkoku ni ukabu futari no kage​ EVERYONE: The rose garden… And you — the Bride.​ 薔薇の花園 花嫁の君​ Bara no Hanazono hanayome no kimi​ ANTHY: When the rose petals are scattered…​ 輪のバラの散らされた (As in the program, but not accurate to the sung lyric, which I will use from here on.)​ 一輪の薔薇の散らされた (Accurate to the lyrics, credit to barafubuki's initial Japanese script)​ Ichirin no bara no chirasa reta ​ ANTHY: …you turn up your face to the heavens…​ 天空を��上げれば​ tenkuu wo miagereba​ UTENA: …and there you see the illusory castle that will descend, someday.​ 幻の城いつか御許に 舞い降りる​ Maboroshi no shiro itsuka mimoto ni maioriru​

EVERYONE: At the mercy of a god’s rhythm, two shadows suspended in absolute darkness.​ 神のリズムに翻弄される 漆黒に浮かぶ 二人の影​ Kami no rizumu ni honrou sareru shikkoku ni ukabu futari no kage​ EVERYONE: The rose garden… And you — the Bride.​ 薔薇の花園 花嫁の君​ Bara no Hanazono hanayome no kimi​ EVERYONE: We’ll never be separated again!​ 二度と離さない…​ Nidoto hanasanai…​

M25: Absolute Darkness: The Rose Garden ~ Reprise ​ NANAMI: Grasping for control…​ 狂わされた運命​ Kuruwasareta unmei ​ MIKI: …of a mad fate…​ 支配された​ shihai sareta​ NANAMI: …a spirit bound without hope…​ 魂縛り付けて​ Tamashii shibaritsukete ​ MIKI: …to a vast world of emptiness.​ 広がる虚無の世界​ hirogaru kyomu no sekai​ SAIONJI: There in the smoldering fire is an indelible portrait…​ 炎で燃やしつくしても 消えない肖像​ Honou de moyashi tsukushite mo kienai shouzou​ WAKABA: …rescued by a shadow from inside the frame.​ 絵の中から救ってくれる あの人の影​ E no naka kara sukutte kureru ano hito no kage ​ JURI: Countless illusions of who you are, overlapping each other…​ 無数のあなたの幻影が 重なり合ってかつての​ Musuu no anata no gen'ei ga kasanariatte katsute no​ EVERYONE: …and painting over the real you.​ 自分を塗りつぶしていく​ Jibun wo nuritsubushite iku​ ANTHY: Even in absolute darkness, I feel your warm hands pulling me forward…​ 漆黒の闇もあなたの手の温もり感じ前に進む​ Shikkoku no yami mo anata no te no nukumori kanji mae ni susumu​ ANTHY: …toward the sunlit garden that's surely ahead.​ 光の庭にたどり着く日は きっと来る​ Hikari no niwa ni tadoritsuku hi ha kittokuru​ ANTHY: Then, you'll let go of my hand, and it won’t even matter if we’re separated…​ その時にあなたが手を離して 去っていっても構わない​ Sonotoki ni anata ga te wo hanashite satte itte mo kamawanai​ ANTHY: …because your warmth will stay with me, for all eternity…​ 温もり忘れない きっと永遠（とわ）に…​ Nukumori wasurenai kitto eien (towa) ni…​ ​ (dialogue cut - note that there is also dialogue occurring over and between the lyrics from here, so I will only note large breaks)​ ​ NANAMI: Grasping for control…​ 狂わされた運命​ Kuruwasa reta unmei ​ MIKI: …of a mad fate…​ 支配された​ shihai sa reta​ NANAMI: …a spirit bound without hope…​ 魂縛り付けて​ Tamashiishibaritsukete ​ MIKI: …to a vast world of emptiness.​ 広がる虚無の世界​ hirogaru kyomu no sekai​ SAIONJI: There in the smoldering fire is an indelible portrait…​ 炎で燃やしつくしても 消えない肖像​ Honou de moyashi tsukushite mo kienai shouzou​ WAKABA: …rescued by a shadow from inside the frame.​ 絵の中から救ってくれる あの人の影​ E no naka kara sukutte kureru ano hito no kage ​ JURI: Countless illusions of who you are, overlapping each other…​ 無数のあなたの幻影が 重なり合ってかつての​ Musuu no anata no gen'ei ga kasanariatte katsute no​ EVERYONE: …and painting over the real you.​ 自分を塗りつぶしていく​ Jibun wo nuritsubushite iku​ ANTHY: Even in absolute darkness, I feel your warm hands pulling me forward…​ 漆黒の闇もあなたの手の 温もり感じ前に進む​ Shikkoku no yami mo anata no te no nukumori kanji mae ni susumu​ ANTHY: …toward the sunlit garden that's surely ahead.​ 光の庭にたどり着く日は きっと来る​ Hikari no niwa ni tadoritsuku hi ha kittokuru​ ANTHY: Then, you'll let go of my hand, and it won’t even matter if we’re separated…​ その時にあなたが手を離して 去っていっても構わない​ Sonotoki ni anata ga te wo hanashite satte itte mo kamawanai​ ANTHY: …because your warmth will stay with me, for all eternity…​ 温もり忘れない きっと永遠（とわ）に…​ Nukumori wasurenai kitto eien (towa) ni…​

(dialogue cut)​ ​ EVERYONE: When the rose petals are scattered…​ 一輪の薔薇の散らされた​ Ichirin no bara no chirasareta ​ EVERYONE: …you turn up your face to the heavens…​ 天空を見上げれば​ tenkuu wo miagereba​ EVERYONE: …and there you see the illusory castle that will descend, someday.​ 幻の城いつか御許に 舞い降りる​ Maboroshi no shiro itsuka mimoto ni maioriru​ EVERYONE: At the mercy of a god’s rhythm, two shadows are suspended in absolute darkness.​ 神のリズムに翻弄される 漆黒に浮かぶ 二人の影​ Kami no rizumu ni honrou sareru shikkoku ni ukabu futari no kage​ EVERYONE: The rose garden… And you — the Bride.​ 薔薇の花園 花嫁の君​ Bara no Hanazono hanayome no kimi​ EVERYONE: We’ll never be separated again!​ 二度と離さない…​ Nidoto hanasanai…​ ​ (credits/cast walk-on)​ ​ UTENA: When the rose petals are scattered…​ 一輪の薔薇の散らされた​ Ichirin no bara no chirasa reta ​ UTENA: …you turn up your face to the heavens…​ 天空を見上げれば​ tenku wo miagereba​ UTENA: …and there you see the illusory castle that will descend, someday.​ 幻の城いつか御許に 舞い降りる​ Maboroshi no shiro itsuka mimoto ni maioriru​ EVERYONE: At the mercy of a god’s rhythm, two shadows are suspended in absolute darkness.​ 神のリズムに翻弄される 漆黒に浮かぶ 二人の影​ Kami no rizumu ni honrou sareru shikkoku ni ukabu futari no kage​ EVERYONE: The rose garden… And you — the Bride.​ 薔薇の花園 花嫁の君​ Bara no Hanazono hanayome no kimi​ EVERYONE: We’ll never be separated again!​ 二度と離さない…​ Nidoto hanasanai…​

(credits/cast walk-on)​

UTENA: When the rose petals are scattered...​ 輪の薔薇の散らされた​ Ichirin no bara no chirasa reta ​ UTENA: ...you turn up your face to the heavens...​ 天空を見上げれば​ tenkū o miagereba​ UTENA: ...and there you see the illusory castle that will descend, someday.​ 幻の城いつか御許に 舞い降りる​ Maboroshino-jō itsuka omoto ni maioriru​

EVERYONE: At the mercy of a god’s rhythm, two shadows are suspended in absolute darkness.​ 神のリズムに翻弄される 漆黒に浮かぶ 二人の影​ Kami no rizumu ni honrō sareru shikkoku ni ukabu futari no kage​ EVERYONE: The rose garden... And you — the Bride.​ 薔薇の花園 花嫁の君​ Bara no Hanazono hanayome no kimi​ EVERYONE: We’ll never be separated again!​ 二度と離さない…​ Nidoto hanasanai…

[yearningaces]

Thinking and thoughts here

Could you just imagine the impossible with me? Being in a loving marriage with your beloved husband -who you believe is human because why wouldn't you? He looks and acts like every other human and monsters aren't real. And he just adored you so very much, he communicates when he doesn't understand something or when a miscommunication is had. He never fights with you but you both work together to fix any problems, and focus on showing how much you care for each other. Truthfully he's the model husband. Almost to a scripted degree, but you've never felt so adored. Especially when he mirrors your affection and never seems to expect anything explicit, nor want it either. It feels safe, and comfortable... So why do you feel the sense of dread in your gut as you're looking at him right now?

Well, it might be how he's standing in the doorway, bag of takeout in hand, smile on his face. Mirroring how he always stands. But it's a brief moment, a flash of dark lines almost like thread wrapping around his joints, moving him like a giant flesh puppet.

And just as quickly as they were seen- they're gone again. Just your loving husband, Dorrin. Standing tall and gazing down, as though the mountain was watching the river below. Absolutely enamored and unyielding to everyone except you who he'd mold himself to better love as time goes on.

At your expression, his smile fades into a look of concern. His gaze follows yours, to his hand. And the brief flash of threading is gone but he knows exactly what you've seen.

His gaze returns to you, hollow. Slowly setting down the bag he was carrying and slowly crosses the room to get to you.

He seems... Empty. As if any signals for how he should be acting have been cut off. His looming figure almost listless as he gazes down at you with a dull gaze, no life behind his eyes. After a moment, his voice finally rings out. "Has this one displeased you, little love?"

You feel an inherent wrongness about how your beloved husband is speaking presumably of himself as if he isn't even here, with a slight stumble back it answers his question well enough.

Dorrin slumps, like a wind up toy who's finished it's final dance. The voice that drifts through the air is so familiar yet leaves your brain trembling at the sheer magnitude of the being behind it even if unseen. "I apologize, this puppet has proven defective for its sole purpose. Rest assured, such an oversight will be rectified promptly. Only the best shall be allowed closest to you."

With a horrified expression you can only watch as Dorrin- what you know to be Dorrin is... Folded away. Limbs snapping together into a ball not unlike when a child is ready to toss away their doll. And it's... Not there anymore. No blink of an eye, no noise or sight, it was there and it wasn't. And now you stand in the empty living room of a home you've shared with someone you thought you knew so very well.

What do you do?

What can you do?

You can feel gazes on you still, the same when that thing would watch you while you rested together. You can try to move towards a door or even a window and find them consumed in darkness. There is no threat here, but you are not allowed to leave at the moment.

You don't know it yet, but Dorrin just wants to keep you safe in the home he's so carefully crafted for you alone. Tonight he'll leave a new puppet at your door, identical to the last hundred that had done something leading to any inconvenience on you. You've never noticed before, and he doesn't know how to condense himself into a small enough form to be loved by such a miniscule creature he's so deeply fallen for. But that puppets strings weren't good enough to remain hidden. The new one will be better.

Only the best for you.

He will ensure it.

(Basically what happens when an endless creature of Eldritch being falls for a little bitty human? Why not craft a puppet to express his love for them on a scale they can comprehend! But those fickle puppets- never perfect enough for his little love)

[branwinged]

the magnus archives is a romcom—no what the hell it's not. it is, however, a gothic horror romance between jon and elias. because you see, the thing about jonelias is that their canonical dynamic is built around an absurd number of gothic genre tropes. jon sims obviously fits the mold of the tortured gothic protagonist quite nicely who's facing both external (the other avatars targeting him) and internal horrors (his progress as the Archivist weighing on his conscience). but he's also trapped in the gothic manor which is the magnus institute. there are secrets (the place being a temple to the eye), locked doors, forbidden chambers, and bodies in the attic which serve as evidence of past misdeeds (the panopticon; gertrude and jonah's bodies in the tunnels), the institute/archives is ultimately destroyed by fire - purging the gothic manor i.e. the symbolic destruction of the previous order with fire is a common motif in the genre. and jon's work in the archives is haunted by the figurative ghost of gertrude who remains a curious mystery he must unravel and will serve as a constant reminder to jon of his own inadequacies (just like du maurier's rebecca fr)

elias is then —

1) his personal bluebeard figure who murdered his predecessor, a comparison which only gets stronger with the jonah magnus reveal since he's been cycling through archivists for two hundred years, all having met gruesome ends in service to him and jon being his final and most notable choice. are you seeing the maxim de winter rochester imagery. are you.

2) his gothic double. doubles as a literary trope are your hidden self made manifest, the horror lies in the double (elias) revealing the gothic protagonist's (jon) hidden, true self to them. elias as an avatar of the eye is entirely unrepentant for his nature, he revels in it. which is a mirror to jon's own self-flagellation because despite how much he feels torn about his own metaphorical vampirism, he likes it. he admits as much to gerry as early as s3 when asked about his feelings on his ability to compel truths. and why wouldn't he! after being kept in the dark so long, why wouldn't he like it? and jon and jonah had in common their natural curiosity even before they found the beholding. elias is a mirror and jon looks in it and sees someone who is him, but not quite. someone who is what jon would be if he could simply let go, but jon can't. like most gothic protagonists he will kill his double because it is a reminder of a self-truth he can never escape.

and watcher's call. like what even is that. what do you mean that's a thing. what. literally wuthering heights. "why did you heed the call?" // "because this is the place i know i should be" <- normal dialogue to write for two guys definitely not starring in a gothic romance.

^ same genre of images. so the spider, the mother of puppets, the web which is the symbolic representation of narrative thread in the magnus archives universe WEAVED them together? red string fated, that's what they are? so they're soulmates. that's what you're saying. they're literally soulmates. soulmates as existential horror? just enough of an illusion of narrative agency for jonah/elias to claim, "the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose" but paradoxically joined by fate, which isn't a good thing! because no god-like powers of hope, or love, or indigestion, or whatever, only fear. because even though both help the other achieve narrative self-actualisation (elias making jon the archive and jon making elias the king of a ruined world), their union also irrevocably destroys their lives as they hurt each other in deeply personal ways which signify their greatest fears. elias manipulating jon, whose biggest fear is mr spider, i.e. loss of control and jon repaying by being the very thing that kills jonah, who has spent multiple lifetimes trying to escape the end. and that's romance <3

[teojira]

Running our fingers through their fur, either as grooming or being half asleep and looking for the blanket lol

[Noa + Caesar and touching their fur] [drabbles]

Summary: Touching an ape's fur is different, but not strange. Noa wants you to take your fill, Caesar offers you himself.

Word count: 900+ words

Warnings: Romance between you and the Apes, don't like? Don't read!

A/N: I hope this is good anon! Thank you for the prompt, I'm personally really proud of these so if it sucks, don't tell me 💀😭

Noa:

The Chimp will never admit just how much he loves when you run your fingers through his fur, but it's easy to tell.

Even before you two were mates, Noa found himself constantly wanting to be in your company. Lying to himself that it was just to learn and grow his knowledge, not because he felt anything for you.

That was ridiculous, you were his friend, a small Echo that he was in charge of to keep in check, to keep safe.

His staring wasn't because he so desperately wanted to explore what made you, you. To feel how different your skin would be compared to his, to feel your hands on him, taking in each other's differences.

Watching you run your fingers through your hair, gliding gently to get the tangles out, he remembers when he wishes you'd do that to him. Only to shake his head and try and go on about his day.

Noa would have never imagined himself here, sharing a space with you at long last.

In your nest, after a long day, he will press his entire body next to yours, body damn near shaking at the thought of being able to be all over you in private.

It was an adjustment he had to make peace with, when you told him that humans value their privacy and that intimate acts were to be away from prying eyes.

Noa did it for you, though, taking your word as law.

It made it even more exciting to see you at the end of the night, to know he didn't have to hold back.

Which leads us to here, Noa draping himself over you as he silently prays you'll start threading your fingers in his fur.

"....tired....stressed." He mumbles against the skin of your neck, aware that it's senstive, smirking when you shudder a bit.

"My poor baby." You coo, giggling at the huge ape curling into you, like he wants to be in your skin.

"I do..much work." a huff, lifting his head up to meet your teasing.

You bring a small hand up, moving to brush the fur along his nape up and down, smiling at your mate.

His reaction is instantaneous, his whole body dropping like a puppet with its strings slack. His head resting on your chest, nuzzling his face there until he's sure he may suffocate.

Every bit on tension floods out of his body. Any annoyance from dealing with the many issues of the rapidly growing clan is gone from mind.

"Noa, you're heavy." But you don't stop caressing him, instead bringing another hand up to brush at his head.

All you get is a grunt is in response. He's probably gonna knock out in your hold.

You pray you don't have to use the bathroom anytime soon.

Caesar:

It's hard being new, even more so when you're the only human in an entire colony full of apes, majority of which more or less don't like your existence. Only dealing with the choice their leader made because what he says goes.

You're grateful he let you integrate with them, instead of turning you away in to no doubt succumb to the woods, the snow no doubt lessening your chance in surviving.

You're forever grateful, but the isolation is almost too much, to the point where you think of leaving in the night, when the weather lets up.

Sitting next to your small fire, a little ways off from the rest of the group, you're stoking the fire absentmindedly, your head resting on your knees as you soak in the meager warmth it provides. The fish you caught earlier sitting by untouched.

You don't pick up on footsteps coming your way, and it isn't until you feel a new warmth by your side that you look up.

It's Caesar, hunched next to you, the size difference between you two, very much apparent. He's staring at you expectantly, though you're not sure what he wants from you. He's usually never this far out, eating and conversing with the others, namely Maurice and Koba.

"Oh, uh, Hi." You mumble you're not sure what to say other than that.

Eyes following the way his fur ever so slightly shifts with the breeze going by, wondering how it would feel, no doubt he runs warm due to it.

The Ape king shifts in his place slightly before he speaks finally.

"It is okay." He gestures his arm towards you, giving you ample opportunity. He wants you to, to trust him, to be comfortable in his presence.

"What?"

"You have never felt ape," He murmurs, moving his arm closer ever so slightly, not wanting you to fear him. He'd never lay a hand on you, but he knows how humans are, so he goes slow.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable." Is all you can say, curling your fists and placing them on the cold earth. He's being so nice to you, for no reason. It makes your head hurt, to see how kind his eyes are watching you.

"You won't."

With the added reassurance, you reach out your hand and gently brush your fingers along his fur.

It's course, but still pleasant to the touch, the heat radiating from him is an added bonus, warming your cold fingers.

While you're wrapped up in your mind, Caesar suppresses the feeling that works his way down his spine,  your touch sending off signals in his brain, some he hasn't felt since Cornelia passed.

He decides then and there that he will get you used to him, and maybe you'll be gracious enough for him to learn about you.

[entitytcken-a]

@chaosmultiverse || cont. from here

🎀Charlie shuddered, everything was getting so dark... and she felt so cold... Although the rain was probably was apart of that if she was honest. For a moment, she swore she heard Evan’s voice... which would have been impossible... After all... He... He died- A weak gargle of a whimper escaped her as she curled in on herself, not noticing the robotic form of the other until they saw the flicker of the glowing eyes.

“...But... I’m... I’m... not... ti...red...”

She managed to get out before her body finally succumbed to the wound, her body breathing its last breath as she finally went still; a hand laying over one of the security puppet’s. Her eyes becoming dull as the life was snuffed out... for now. 

[dark-konohagakure2]

Sasori and deidara rapeing there new female akatsuki partner after letting a jinchuriki get away 💕

tw: noncon, threesome, spitroasting, degradation, bondage, body control, abuse, slapping, face fucking

All characters depicted are 18+

Neither Sasori nor Deidara are very happy about having a third team member to their already functional duo, Sasori especially, but they concede nonetheless, believing that having a third person on their side will make capturing the Akatsuki's latest Jinchuriki target all the more easy, but in an unexpected turn of events, their teammate completely botches the mission and lets the Jinchuriki escape, much to the artists anger.

Deidara's anger is much more explosive than his master's, yelling at the girl for being so stupid as to let their important target run away, even threatening to blow her up as punishment, but Sasori steps in, saying that death by explosion would be too good a punishment for her, and he has something much more cruel in mind.

Before she can even react, Sasori's blue chakra threads are already wrapping around her body, allowing the puppet master to move it however he sees fit, manipulating her body into the perfect position for both him and Deidara to punish. Deidara is incredibly excited to have his way with her, seeing it as the perfect compensation for her failings.

While not as outwardly excited, Sasori is still going to take advantage of the lovely opportunity he has created for them, forcing his own cock into her mouth while Deidara takes her pussy, the threads around her both constricting and controlling her entire body, leaving her entirely helpless to the artistic duo's perverse desires.

"Fuuuck~! You might be terrible at being a competent Akatsuki member, but you're actually pretty good a being a cumdump! We've finally found something you're good at!"

Sasori will hold her head firmly in place between his legs with one hand while using his other hand to expertly manipulate the puppet strings around her body, forcing her to move her head up and down Sasori's cock and her hips to move up and down Deidara's own at a quick pace. The strong chakra threads around her are so thin that the encounter could look possibly consensual to the untrained eye.

While Sasori doesn't show any emotion on his face as per usual, he is undoubtedly feeling a great amount of satisfaction at the sight and sensation of her gagging and drooling all over his wood, and while it is very faint, he'll occasionally let out the occasional quiet groan or the smallest hint of a smirk.

Deidara on the other hand is much more open with how good it feels, moaning loudly and roughly slapping her ass and thighs as her bound body unwillingly pleasures him, and the blonde will be sure to let her know that a slut like her isn't fit to be their teammate, and that she'd be much better suited to being their own personal sex toy instead.

The artistic Akatsuki members will leave her a complete mess by the time they're finished with her, her body filled with and covered in cum, but unfortunately for her, this certainly won't be the last time she gets used like this, not after the abysmal job she did on her very first assignment as an Akatsuki.

"What a waste. Our leader put so much faith in your abilities, but it turns out you're nothing but a worthless puppet with some slightly useful holes."

After the utter failure of their mission thanks to her, both Sasori and Deidara will tell the other Akatsuki members that she isn't fit to be part of their organization, at least not as a member, and with her less than stellar performance, the others will be hard pressed not to agree.