#( i am an innocent flower and a child free of sin )

[b-sozoku]

man i wonder who said that

[imslowlydisintegrating]

you look a mess, ho,

broke dick got you lookin’ real stressed, ho.

FREE PALESTINE, HAITI, SUDAN + THE DRC!

you can call me evvy, teo, dorian, ruth, rhiannon, or any variation of those names. i use they/he/she pronouns (in order of preference) and i am genderfluid, sapphic and maybe ace :)

◘　who let the dope boys out?　◘

i do have some personal obsessions on this blog that you’ll find

music (as on record): abba grandes exitos vol. 2 (abba) ✦ the returner (allison russell) ✦ outside child (allison russell) ✦ aretha’s gold (aretha franklin) ✦ self-titled (carpenters) ✦ “awaken, my love!” (childish gambino) ✦ visions (grimes) ✦ self-titled (hozier) ✦ wasteland, baby! (hozier) ✦ grace (jeff buckley) ✦ self-titled (kc & the sunshine band) ✦ be the cowboy (mitski) ✦ bury me at makeout creek (mitski) ✦ greatest hits (queen) ✦ i am the dog (sir chloe) ✦ sawayama (rina sawayama)

tv/movies: bullet train ✦ arcane ✦ spider-verse trilogy ✦ knives out film series ✦ brooklyn 99 ✦ jurassic park ✦ the brothers sun

what’s the screen playing? [bottoms.]

i spend my time writing, playing drums, pacing around my room, listening to music, and doing fuck-all with my life ❤️️

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 you do it to yourself, you do, and that’s why it really hurts 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

my official unofficial bandmates: @literatureisdying ✦ @bassguitarinablackt-shirt ✦ @gently-decaying-flowers

★ say i ain’t the guy, they must be smoking ketamine ★

my tagging system:

#ruth speaks — answering asks/joining tag games

#dorian talks to the void — random (usually) text posts

#evvy still uses wired headphones — music related posts

#ruth engages in media consumption — posts about what i’m enjoying at the moment

#teo is typing — stuff about my writing projects

#innocent sin — band stuff

we’ll wait with knives after class (becky!!)

eventually i will have a sideblog for writing, but for right now just know that i have two WIPs, Made Of Our Own Storms (#mooos) and Way Down On The River (#wdotr).

mooos is about a group of teenagers doing their best to survive 100 years after the apocalypse while also struggling to balance their mental health and the burden that comes with being alive in the post-apocalypse. tags: (#mooos, #art o’cahan, #arun nidhi, #cy segal, #daya da silva iglesias, #azi tyali, #domi larieux morais, #naia zorita.)

wdotr is about a collection of serial killers that all manage to find themselves on the same riverboat, heading to the same destination. it only gets complicated when they set their sights on each other as their next victim. set in an almost-Earth, wdotr takes place in a steampunk-y world with parallels to earth, but it’s not exactly the same. tags: (#wdotr, #anastasia marie, #cheli malviya, #sam malviya, #zexi malviya, #the triplets, #akachi moriai, #moriai toyoko, #the brides, #ruhi arana, #don nekvasilová, #ash vanich.)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

lyrics used in this post:

‘you look a mess, ho, broke dick got you lookin’ real stressed, ho’, nissan altima by doechii.

‘who let the dope boys out?’, buzzcut by brockhampton ft. danny brown.

‘you do it to yourself, you do, and that’s why it really hurts’, just by radiohead.

‘say i ain’t the guy, they must be smoking ketamine’, sticky by tyler, the creator ft. glorilla, sexyy red & lil wayne.

‘we’ll wait with knives after class (becky!!)’, becky by be your own pet.

[fantasykim]

fake religions

I am a freak, and I know that, but I like to spend my free time creating worlds, cities and religions from scratch. here is a religion I put way too much work into for literally no reason.

Physisism-

the belief in which there is one true Goddess, Mother Earth. She is known by many other names, including but not limited to:

Heavenly Mother

Mother Gaia

Mother Nature

Mother Earth

The seven laws of Physis are and as follows-

All things must return to the mother

If the mother gives then man must give back

Anyone touched by the mothers hand of Disaster or Disease is paying their pence for the crime of a past life

Respect thy Mother, Wife, Sisters, and Daughters (Respect all women)

Strive to better and strengthen thy body, mind and spirit

Correct sin when seen and safe

One can never be reborn again if an unforgivable sin has been committed

The three unforgivable sins are and as follows

Laying thy hands upon a woman or child in a violent or unwanted sexual manner

Disrespecting mother nature

Taking without giving back

Killing an animal for food or clothing and not using every last bit of the animal

Taking the life of an innocent person

-----

I also created holidays, places of worship, a style of worship and prayer, I wrote their scriptures and everything- here is some of the Physis sacred word------

Passage one-

In the beginning, there was nothing. When all came together in a cosmic explosion creating the universe, and thus The Mother was created along with it. By thy Mother's hand, the earth was pulled together. The Mother perfectly sculpted matter into mountains and oceans. Her godly touch brought life to the surface. By the brush of her hand up sprung trees, and fruit they did bear. 

And by thy Mother's grace, she built life, animals to walk her land, each sculpted to perfection without flaw. 

Passage two-

The mother watched her land and sought to add to it’s beauty. She took up her brush and painted leaves of red and gold. She started a circle as her living things passed with beauty. She called it Autumn. 

Then she brought up her knife and cut flakes of iced silver, each perfectly crafted and not two alike. She draped blankets of white over herself and called it winter.

And when the mother smiled upon the world it brought up the sun, and it melted away the snow. And thus she reached out and pulled flowers up from the soil and thus she called it spring.

And when the mother wished it, all things flourished and grew, returning them as they once were and she called it Summer, and thus the circle was complete.

Passage three-

In her days of watching the mother grew lonely, and so she brought up

from the earth a woman, liken to herself, and called her Eve. As Eve was given many sisters they lived in peace with the mother.

And she sculpted each of them by hand, and painted each with brushes made from her own hair. She perfected each and every one before she had them live.

And thus women roamed the earth among the lions and sheep, and among the bushes and trees. And nevertheless, there was peace.

Passage four-

And therefore the mother created another, and it was known as man. And

thus the mother created a counterpart for each of her daughters to love and adore. 

And man was created to love women back. So thus they did. And the mother gave unto them the power to create, and bring forth the new souls to which the mother had crafted.

--------

I created ranks within the established religion of Physis, leadership roles, laws, commandments and all kinds of other stuff... in the end the story I was writing with this got scrapped and I did all that work for nothing, I might re use it in another book someday, but until then I'll put it up here for you guys to appreciate!

[rpking99]

Digimon Digital monsters

But first! Quick summory on Digimon.

Digimon is short for Digital Monsters. They are digital life forms that, like Pokemon, can evolve and change shape. However they have the ability to go back and forth along their lines.

So each Digimon can be any one on their respective listed lines, but their preferred forms will be made larger and coloured. The higher the form, the stronger they are.

Also, they are essentially OC characters so they will have small descriptors of their personalities and names

Here we go!

Also, if you guys remember my old blog. Well... I am gonna be doing it a LITTLE different this time. I am only showing their MAIN form in this thread. And each girl will have a link to their full Digivolution line, so check it out to go and see all the options avalable~!

Lila

LadyDevimon

Level: Ultimate

Lila can be summed up with two words 'Dommy Mummy'. A sensual beauty who spent her life seeking the thrills and darkness of the world, from dark sensual kinks to the power of the shadow world. Eventually she gained the power of the Code Crown of Lust, the power of sin itself, and became Lilithmon. Queen of lust, queen of the dark world, she now lives seeking more thrill and pleasure with sensual excitment

She is sensual to the bone. Loving the embaressment others have, as well as the pleasure of the flesh. She can also be very cruel and sadistic when the mood suits her

Lila's Digivolutions

Sasha

Sakuyamon

Level: Mega

Sasha is a shrine maiden in the Digital World. A warrior shamen who has spent years training herself. She has trained long and hard to resist the temptations of sin and desire, even as her body has grown sensual and hungers for it.

She is very serious and confident.

(I am also fine as using this as Rika's partner Renamon, who uses the exact same Digivolution line)

Sasha's Digivolutions

Daisy

Rosemon

Level: Mega

Daisy was once an innocent child. Growing up gentle and naive. But then... she uncovered it. BDSM. And her life was changed forever. She fell in love with the fetish, she felt at peace and at home. Confident, sexy. It was fun like she had never had before.

Her love influincing her Digivolution until she became Rosemon.

When as Rosemon, she is a dom through and through. A little cold and a bit of a bully, but only because she knows her pet loves it. The sensual flower is more than willing to reduce herself, to enter her Ultimate stage and be a very eager little pet for her lover.

She is a very chill person at the end of the day. Confident in herself and her desires.

(I am also fine with using her as Mimi's partner with the classic Digivolution line)

Daisy's Digivolutions

Bella

BeelStarmon

Level: Mega

Bella has a little sister, Angie, and grew up protecting her. Bella was always a bit of a trickster.

The two where part of a religious school, a school that taught them of the mighty Yggdrasil system that governed the world and ran it. Bella was once a beliver of this 'truth', even if she did not follow the rules exactly. She was a free spirit after all. But as she grew older, more confident, she started questioning it more and more.

Until eventually, she left.

Finally freed she now rides the roads of the Digital World, sometimes crossing paths with Lila and having some 'fun'. But if she gets even a hint that her sister was in trouble, well... the assholes better be ready for a couple bullets in the back.

Bella's Digivolutions

Angie

Angewomon

Level: Mega

Angie is Bella's little sister. While her sister was a trouble maker, while her sister questioned the teachings of Yggdrasil, Angie never faultered. She prayed for her sisters salvation, knowing she followed the principals and ideals even if she did not follow the truth directly.

Angie rose up the ranks. All the way up to becoming one of the Three Great Angels who's mission was to spread the word of Yggdrasil protect the world.

Even though she was now as good as a queen, Angie was always kind and compassionate and helpful to all those around her. Sweet, sensitive and loving. It was why she preferred her Angewomon form, she was no better than anyone else.

Although, there was a darkness brewing inside her. A darkness she refused to admit to. A darkness born from her repressed desires...

(I am also willing to use her as Kari's partner with the standard Digivolution line)

Angie's Digivolutions

Minerva

Mervamon

Level: Mega

Minerva is the oldest of the three sisters. Angie had two older sisters, Bella and Minerva. And while Minerva and Bella are twins, Minerva is still older.

Like her sister Bella, Minerva did not agree with the teachings of the school… but Minerva did not even try to hide it meaning she was often in trouble. Trouble… that she embraced.

Pulling pranks with her twin sister was one of the few things she enjoyed. But as they pranked more and more, Minerva felt herself becoming absorbed by the excitment of it all. Escalating the pranks more and more, to the point they quickly became dangerous… and she was kicked out

Minerva told Bella to look after their baby sister before she went out into the world… and the world basically drove her insane. Her pranks, the thrill she got from them, soon where not enough… races, fights, drinking. She became a wild chaotic force, just looking for the next thrill.

Some Digimon just ran on sight as they saw her, much to her annoyance.

She gets along with Lila well, the two chaos incarnate in very different ways….

Minerva's Digivolutions

Cleo

Bastemon

Level: Ultimate

Cleo is the Queen of the kingdom of HarDrive. It is a rather large kingdom on an isolated island of the Digital World. Cleo was raised from birth to rule, family and servants alike making her seem more and more important

And then she took over the kingdom at the equivilant of 15. She... wasn't ready, but she didn't know that nor would she want to admit it.

In her own eyes, she is perfect. And she had convinced her kingdom the same. And while the kingdom flourishes, it also has some heavy drops.

Cleo loves to go out and have fun. To dance, to be pampered. She is a queen, after all~!

But she does not know she is part of the Olympos XII. Destined to be Dianamon, Goddess of the Moon... and how achiving that power will make her realise her failure.

Cleo's Digivolutions

Jeanne

D'Arcmon

Level: Champion

Jeanne was born in HarDrive, the daughter of one of the castles knights. She was even childhood friends with the, then Princess, Cleo. Seeing the Salamon as her only friend, even to adult hood.

Eventually Jeanne followed in her families footsteps, becomiong one of HarDrive's knights... even if she hated fighting. While she did fight, it was always in the name of peace and love.

One day she saw a corrupt member of the court trying to betray the the kingdom so he could hand it over to the Demon Lord of Lust, the Lillithmon Lila as a way to try and win her approval so she would sleep with him (it would have failed), and reported it... only to be kicked out. Stripped of her title. Called a trator for accusing a member of the court. Cleo, now the Queen, had known nothing of this nor the banishment that followed.

Jeanne traveled the world, eventually becoming a seemingly weaker form as she continued her travels. Of course as Sirenmon she was an Ultimate, but many thought she was a weakling because of her size. However it taught her that strength... pure strength meant nothing. That all a person needs in life is love, and the support to keep going.

She Digivolved into Venusmon, the first member of the new Olympos XII. The Goddess of love... ready to be there for her friend when she finally ascends.

Jeanne's Digivolutions

Violet

Lotusmon

Level: Mega

Violet was just a random citizen of HarDrive. An orphan who grew up alone, but she idolised the many doctors in the kingdom who helped and looked after each other and the citizens. She also idolised the, at the time, Princess Cleo.

She wanted to be as beautiful as the Princess, as many called her a weed. Bullying that only increased when she became Vegimon. When the kingdom was in termoil, caused by the council member who betrayed them to try and win Lila's affections, she ended up in the woods. Chased out by the invadors.

She spent years in the woods with just some medical books... and so she studied. And she studied hard. Surrounded by light and nature, she bloomed. And one day... she came across an injured Jeanne, healing the sick D'Arcmon back to health. After that Violet grew more confident.

Still feeling comfertable in the woods, she still missed her home. And so, she set up a house on the outskirts of the kingdom. Helping any injured Digimon she came across, legends of the mysterious and kind plant witch spreading.

That small bud had bloomed into a beautiful doctor, who onlt wanted to help....

Violet's Digivolutions

Rana

Ranamon

Level: Champion

Ranamon is the Warrior of Water. Basically a low level water god in the Digital World. And she is also an idol. She is a diva, a brat and thinks very highly of herself. Perfect for bullying.

Rana's Digivolutions

Miyu

Jellymon

Level: Rookie

A real bratty girl. Miyu is a very big fan of Rana and her shows, Miyu loves exploring the oceans. A free spirited ball of chaos who just enojoys teasing and panking people

Miyu's Digivolutions

Sky

Sanzomon

Level: Ultimate

Sky was a simple Digimon. She enjoyed flying, being free. That was her life. Eventually that freedom even leading to her becoming a sage who helped others with their spiritual freedom

...

And then she found out the truth

She was one of the Olympia XII. She was Junomon, goddess of love. And now... she was shackled. To a duty she did not as for. ... And an eventually marriage to a Mon she had never met.

(also happy to use her as Sora's Biyomon)

Sky's Digivolutions

Boudica

Kinkakumon

Level: Champion

Bousica was a princess of a small kingdom, sat in the Continent of Router. When she was young her kingdom was attacked and ravaged by bandits

And so... She trained

Never wishing for that pain to repeate itself. For herself or her kingdom

She is a mighty warrior queen, to her very core

Boudica's Digivolutions

Sakura

BanchoLillymon

Level: Mega

Sakura has been a loner... possibly her entire life. She did not remember a time when she was with others.

She spent most of her life trying to survive in the jungle, having been saved when she was young. Leading to her trying to do the same whenever she arrived in a new jungle.

However one day she fell into a depression after failing to save innocents during an attack that sent the current forest abalze. Regressing into herself, she stayed like that. Time having no mean.

Until she was needed again. Despite failure, despite the laws, despite what others saw, she would fight for what was right.

She was a bancho, ready to kick the ass of anyone who would mess with the weak...

Sakura's Digivolutions

Kai

Mermaimon

Level: Champion

Most of her life she had just been.... Normal. And she hated it. All her life she'd been jealous of the great stories she had heard, of other Digimon being seen as more beautiful and desirable than her. But she did have a dream of singing...

Then Ranamon entered the scene. The beautiful singer who stole hearts across the Digital World....

She snapped. She became a Demon Lord. She hated that she didn't have it all!!!

Although now her envy was directed at Lila. Jealous the Lust Demon Lord's mega level was osnmuch more beautiful than her own...

Kai's Digivolutions

Arachnee

Arukenimon

Level: Ultimate

Arachnee was just down bug, in the forests deep in the Digital World. Where most Digimon where almost just mindless animals. Survival of the fittest.

Starting as a scavenger, scared and alone, she slowly grew. Becoming a predator in her own right. Life... Meant nothing to her. Other lives didn't matter. She needed to feed. She needed to live

These mindless animals didn't

Her life, her enjoyment, was all that mattered

She didn't know she was Plutomon, the goddess of death. Of course she didn't. But the Olympos XII will regret abandoning her in this hellscape of a jungle....

(Fine to use her as the 02 Arukenimon as well)

Arachnee's Digivolutions

Mei

Meicrackmon

Level: Ultimate

Angels are pure. Angels are justice. Angels are light.

That is the lie that is spread across the Digital World. It is the story many know.

But Mei? Mei knows different

Because SHE is an angel... And she is vile.

Yggdrasil, the Digital Worlds god, made her with a single purpose. Kill evil. Slaughter any threat.

She was an angel

An angel of death

Maybe that's why she looked so different. So animalistic

This 'holy mission' wears away at her. But she does it

For peace.

(Willing to use her as Meiko's partner as well)

Mei's Digivolutions

Fiona

WereGarurumon

Level: Ultimate

Fiona was an orphan. Alone. She eventually fell into a bad crowd, becoming a punk. But she refused to let the gang go after those weaker than them, or the innocent

Even taking over the gang.

They delt with assholes and the worst of the worst. In a way, idolising the Bancho Digimon she had heard about across the Digital World

Own day her gang was all deleted when they where caught in the cross fire of hellfire. As a giant beast of flames and death damaged the land.

She helped the Royal Knights defend the cites, the people's. And when it was over... She was accepted into their ranks.

But she was still a rebel at heart. Who she was, truly was, never breaking. If the knights did something she disagreed with, deciding the greater good was above helping people, she'd do what was right.

She was a punk, after all.

(Am fine with using her as Matt's partner)

Fiona's Digivolutions

Gaia

Ceresmon (Medium)

Level: Mega

Gaia has always been a kind, motherly figure. Gentle, loving, supportive. That did not change when she found out the truth about herself. How she was one of the Olympos XII, Ceresmon, goddess of nature and life

Using her giant rocky bird-like mount that is formed via her will, she travels the Digital World. Taking in orphans on her travel while also feeding and restoring the ecosystem wherever she goes

Gaia's Digivolutions

Celeste

Antylamon

Level: Ultimate

Celeste was chosen and trained to be one of the Three Great Angels... and they trained. No peace, no kindness.

An angel raised like a tool. To be the messanger of Yggdrasil and to gover its laws to the Digital World.

Almost emotionless, Celeste sometimes wonders if this could be called living. Now joining the table of three Angels alongside Ophanimon and Seraphimon, the negatives of their life threaten to unleash themselves at any time...

(Celeste has their bio written with gender neutral terms because the idea is for them to be raised to be 'so pure and angelic' that they are 'above gender', so Celeste is a non-binary character)

Celeste's Digivolutions

VeeVee

Flamedramon

Level: Champion

VeeVee was raised by the knights from a young age, knowing they could be any number among their fates 13 warriors

Very trained. And trained. And despite being a playful youth, cheeky and flirty, they lacked a childhood in pursuit of their destiny, and the chance to make their family proud

(VeeVee's bio written with gender neutral terms as they can be a femboy muse it a female one. The default is femboy, but the option is there. Because of that, pics of both are avalable/used)

(I am also happy to use VeeVee as Davis or Rina's partner Veemon with their spercific Digivolution lines)

VeeVee's Digivolutions

Gali

Guilmon

Level: Rookie

Once there was a mighty beast of the apocalypse. The terrible dragon of the end that was threatening to destroy the entire Digital World

It had appeared out of nowhere. And all life was threatened... Until it suddenly stopped

The Royal Knights had searched the location the beast had vanished in... and found a small Guilmon. Quickly putting the pieces together, they knew what the monster was.

But they could not kill such an innocent creature, with no memories of it's past actions

Gali was raised by the knights. An innocent and pure soul, childish she could be at times. Not knowing of her own darkness.... she eventually left them, and becoming her own kind of knight

(I am also fine playing her as Takato's partner Guilmon)

Gali's Digivolutions

Total Muses: 22

[cryptiql]

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

[sp00kworm]

Under the Old Oak (The Lord of Darkness x Reader)

Pairing: The Lord of Darkness x Reader

Warnings: Adult Content

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The forest was vast in the Kingdom. The Princess had her champion, even if he was not truly hers, and the realm was restored to peace and warmth. The winter, however, still arrived, though it was not as brutal as it once was. The snow was light, and the air was bitter, but no gales battered the lands. It was almost a peaceful winter. You’d spent the winter mornings breathing the cold air, wandering the woodlands in search of foxes and squirrels as you scribbled ditties into the journal. Music was perhaps the only joy you had anymore, and even Princess Lili was amused by the folk tales. The winter, however, was gone, and so spring had overtaken the trees, bursting forth bluebells heavy with flowers and delicate snowdrops which swayed in the breeze. The trees were bursting with new buds of growth, light, new green leaves bursting from curled up shells, but there was not yet enough of them to block the sun and create a canopy. You let out a breath of warm air into the cool morning and watched it drift away into the trees before you avoided a fairy circle of toadstools and tutted.  

 “You are mischievous and rude.” You uttered to the giggling sprites which had laid the trap on the route they knew you took every morning, “And to think I bring you cakes!” You teased as you threw your lunch muffin in the air.

The sprites gasped and darted for the muffin, their sparkly magic light glowing as they each took a sniff and a nibble at the candied fruit decorating the top, “It was a joke!” They giggled as they dragged away the muffin into their mossy homes, “Thank you!” They jeered together as crumbs fell into your hair. You brushed the mess out of your hair before continuing down the mossy path, bouncing around the poisonous toadstools and circles of stones before you reached the stream. It was shallow with the lack of rainfall yet, and you hopped along the deep-set stones, wetting your boots as you went across to reach the soggy bank on the other side. The mud slapped against your boots and you laughed as you headed towards the old oak tree. It sat away from the bank; its roots protected from the constant onslaught of water which would cause it to rot in the silty dirt. With a sigh, you tugged your scarf tighter and sat back against the mossy bed at the base, breathing in the fresh air as the stream trickled on in the background.

 After a few more moments of peace, you reached for your satchel and pulled free your journal from the leather bag with your pencil. Your hand harp came out next and you undid the cloth around it to play a little tune, filling the air with a simple set of scaling notes to check the tuning of the instrument. With a twist of one string, it was into the correct range and you opened your notes to look at the new song you have been working on. It was an old ditty, something that your grandmother had sung you as a child before she passed, and you were determined to rewrite the lyrics for the new legend. The old one was a sad tale, of the darkness being born and spreading sadness throughout the land, but you figured the new tale should be something joyful, with an ending that reflected the new era of light that had been bestowed on the world.

“What have I written?” You asked yourself as you opened the page the song was scrawled on, barely able to read your own writing half of the time. With a squint, you started to pluck at the strings, softly, letting the notes gently hang in the air as you opened your mouth to hum the words quietly.

“Under the old oak tree, boughs cast shadows of dark and silt.” You swayed softly, “In the shadow sits eyes of glittering green, watching a maiden of white and snow.” The harp sung with you as you gently continued into the old verse and rolled the words around in your mouth, thinking about how to change them.

 “Darkness, temptress, wanted one true love. The Maiden’s honour was not his to tempt, and hero slayed him with the sword.” A couple of sprites listened quietly in the branches over your head before glittering and dashing down into the water to pluck at the new water clovers growing in the silt. With a hum and a flourish, you continued, “The fairest maid denied his request, leaving him in shadows and dust, only for her handsome champion, to part ways when the sun rose up.”

A rabbit snuffled at your boot as you continued, “Daylight blinds her heart, when demons sit afar.” With a soft whistle you continued on, tapping your foot to the beat as you blended into a soft, harp solo and finished with a gentle smile. The rabbit sat quietly, chewing on bluebells before it twitched, its eyes wide with fright as its ears flicked. It twitched again before bolting for the trees and its warren. You jumped with fright as a fox tore past you, hot on the creature’s tail, its teeth snatching at the cotton tail of the rabbit. With a gasp you looked away as the fox caught it by the back legs and tried to ignore the scuffle as it continued into the grass and plants away from you. There was a rush of fur and you looked on sadly as the fox carted its kill past you, dripping with blood. There were squeals in the brush and you tried to take solace in the fact that the mother was feeding her new pups.

 Silence stretched out as you scribbled in the notebook, singing soft lines as the air grew warmer and warmer around you, stretching past midday. A few sprites came along to sit on your harp as you continued to sing about the end of the Darkness.

“Darkness sleeps in hearts of man, cruelty and hate combined he thrives.” You whispered, “Yet light blinds and he sleeps he sleeps.”

“A beautiful ditty.” A voice rumbled from behind you, “In details, however, it is wrong.” A beautiful timbre caressed your ears, deep and filled with wisdom of a thousand ages.

You clutched your handheld harp close and looked around the clearing, “Who are you? Where are you hiding?”

“Nowhere. I do not hide. You are sat in the shadows.” The voice purred, “Here I am.”

You flinched as you peered at the long shadows of midday, “The shadows? No creature is shadow.”

“I am no creature.” It purred, “I am the shadows. I am the darkness you are sat in.” It promised, “Can you not see me?”

 You looked at the floor and then peered hard at the shadows of the roots before two burning green eyes appeared in the darkness followed by a great smile, pointed fangs snapping before the smile melted away again.

“I am weak here, but I listened to your song. I heard you speak of me, sweetest thing.” The green eyes burned as they watched you.

“Why are you listening?” You asked, fear clutching at your heart, “I’m singing a song of what happened.”

“And your song is beautiful. You speak of the Darkness. I am he.” The Darkness purred as though his mouth was pressed to your ear.

“The Darkness is dead and gone. He was destroyed.” You whispered to the green eyes, “Everyone knows he is dead.”

“Dead?” The creature laughed, “Darkness cannot die, for the folly of man is where I reside. Every human is cruel and foul, and so I will never see an end.” He promised with another hiss, the teeth snapping in the shadows and disappearing once again as he moved along the shadowed roots, peering out from another hole.

 “Are you here to goad me…Am I to face the pits of your foul home?” Resolve held your words together as you peered into his burning eyes.

A great, deep chuckle resounded in your ears, and you felt the exhale against the hairs on the back of your neck. He laughed again at your shivering.

“Do you think me a liar? I have told you. I heard your song and came here to listen closer.” A black talon peaked from the shadow before curling back into the darkness.

“Isn’t lying your speciality, oh Lord of Sin.” You spat as you took a step back towards the sunlight.

“Lying? It is a sin, but I do not lie. Witches have pacts with me, I do not lie to them about power. I did not lie to the oh so fair maiden in your tale. She was to be mine. If she did that, she would have been a Queen.” He hissed from the shadows, “Do not twist my words, mortal. I too was lied to in that story.”

“Did you not deserve it? You corrupt the innocent and wanted permanent darkness and death. Those are hardly good things.” You took another step towards the light and the Darkness hissed at you with scorn.

“Think of another tale to sing. Your telling of mine is foul.” The eyes receded back into the shadowed roots before glowing, then disappearing, as the creature closed his eyes. There was silence. You rushed into the sunlight and peered around the clearing as you tried to catch a glimpse of the green eyes burning in the shadows. You rushed back for your harp and bag before making sure to run into the trees and back towards the town.

 It got warmer as the week progressed, the leaves on the trees were beginning to unfurl properly and soak up the warming rays of the new sun. After a week you dared to enter the woods again, taking the same path you always did, jumping toadstools until you reached the base of the sprites’ tree.

“I brought you a biscuit.” You offered up into the branches, “They’re lavender and honey, you said you all liked that last time.”

The sprites chittered before taking the biscuit from your fingers and letting crumbs fall into your hair. You brushed at the crumbs and smiled.

“Have you felt anything weird lately?” You asked, “Anything untoward?”

The sprites paused in their eating to look at you confusedly, their little pointed faces confused, “We sense all manner of things. Black and white, light and dark. All are normal in our woods.” One sang before another grinned and tugged at your ear, “White as the unicorn, black as pitch. All is the same to the Fae.” She giggled and the rest sang a soft little rhyme about the fox and the hare.

“You’re all so useless sometimes.” You sighed.

The sprites paused in their dances, “We told you the answer. No lies we speak.” They sang again as they took the food and disappeared back into the moss and birdhouses.

You huffed at the branches, “Useless Fae and their riddles.” You kicked a pebble into the small stream as you slowly moved across the steppingstones.

 The water had made new pond weed and sludge grow over the steps and you yelped as your boot slipped and landed in the stream, filling with icy cold water.

“Oh, by the Gods!” You cursed as you hopped along the rest of the stones. When you reached the bank, you hopped a little further, into the dryer dirt before standing on a great pile of moss and upturning your boot. Water splatted onto the dirt and you huffed again as you hopped to the oak and tucked your boot against the trunk along with your other, hoping the warmer air would dry the inside of it.

As usual, you opened your bag and plucked your hand harp from inside the fold, unwrapping the cloth from it carefully before listening to its gentle noise. The soft plucking of the strings rose up into the canopy and you smiled at the noise you had always loved. Your grandmother was the finest harpist you had ever met, and you wished you had her level of skill as you plucked at the notes for the song she had first sung to you as a babe.

 “Darkness see the Light, on the break of day. Season turn cold to warm, with her never ending sway. Once the dawn doth break, the dreams are chased away. Darkness see the Light, on the break of day…” You hummed softly, plucking in a gentle cadence as the sunlight worked through the new green leaves, dappling across your face. Soaking in the glow, you let the song die on your lips as the birds sang high above, hidden in the mass of leaves from predators and prying eyes.

“Such a wonderous song.” A dark voice rang out from behind you. Once more, you startled and peered into the roots beneath the giant tree, “Sweet thing, have you come to sing for me again?” The Darkness purred from the depths, his green, burning eyes morphing into the burning orange flames of fire, “Or do you sing of me again to tarnish my name?” He teased as he raised a single claw before curling it back into the shadows, begging for you to come closer.

Fear curled along your spine, “I don’t sing for anyone. I sing for myself.” You promised as you turned on the moss to see the eyes burning into your skin, looking as though into your soul, “I would not sing of you if it were not the song’s lyrics. I have to play this for the town festival.” The confession ran like water and you covered your mouth with a gasp.

“Lies cannot be spoken to me.” The Darkness chortled, “Your songs are tales. Beautifully woven to enchant even the deafest of ears.” He complimented, “I would like to hear another, if you would be so kind?”

 “Why should I play for you?” You asked, spitefully, “You almost ruined the world.”

The Darkness laughed again, “Ruined? I merely changed the order. There is balance in the light and dark, and one day that balance will be mine to destroy. The shadows will have their time once again. It is the order of things.” He observed mildly as you held your hand harp closely, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“Would you destroy everything to have it?” You asked, curiosity burning away at the anxiety in your gut.

The Darkness hummed, “Perhaps. But perhaps it would be best to turn the humans to my own side.” He grinned, as though a new nefarious plan was forming in his mind, white teeth glittering in the roots of the tree before he spoke again, “Play for me little harpist. One more song, I beg of you. The sound is like nothing I have below.”

“And what is it you have below, Darkness.” You asked as you opened your book.

His smile faded, “Screams and bellows. The sound of the foulest torture. There is some music in my power, but it is not that of…” His mouth moved before he spat the word, “Innocence…or purity. There is little joy in it.”

 “You do not lie…do you?” You whispered as the eyes burned.

“Why would I lie about such things?” He spat, “Sing for me, please. Play a song.” There was tiredness in his voice as his mouth disappeared into the blackness of the shadows and dirt.

“I can sing for you.” You nodded gently and sat before the shadowed roots, ignoring the burning orange gaze as you remembered the next line of the song.

“Behold the singing song bird, watch the bubbling stream. Before the dawn breaks, naught can be seen. Dreams of sorrows past, chased by the burning light. No more will they bother you, despite the aching blight. Darkness see the Light, on the break of day.”

The Darkness’ eyes lowered with the song, his gaze low and tired as his claws slid back into the roots, disappearing into the dark chasm of his own shadows.

Your voice came to an end, and you opened your eyes not to see the Lord of Darkness nor his gaze. There was silence as the leaves rustled over your head, flapping against one another as you sat, staring into the roots, wondering where the creature had disappeared to during your tale.

 A groggy noise of discontent sounded, “Why did you stop singing, song bird?” He asked, a single eye peering out from the shadows.

With a smile you chuckled, “I thought you had fallen asleep.”

The Darkness smiled, fangs exposed as he laughed, “I was close. Your music is gentle, like a Mother’s song to a babe.” He complimented, “You surely sing for the court?” He asked.

A blush graced your cheeks, “No, I sing for myself.” You reaffirmed, “One day I will maybe share my songs with the world…but not for now.”

The Darkness watched you for a moment, “I could make it happen.” He tempted softly, “There would be no one that didn’t know your name.”

“I won’t fall for your temptation.” You huffed, “I would rather sing and make the children happy than be forced to entertain the King and his finicky court.”

“Then perhaps a world without a King is what you truly desire?” He asked with another purr.

“Don’t twist my words against me. I want nothing from you.” You told him as you laid your harp back in your bag.

 The Darkness opened his other eye, “Nothing? After such a graceful performance…” He tutted to himself before he twisted a finger into the dirt and you watched your boots wiggle, as though there were invisible feet within them, “Consider this a small token.”

You watched as your boots marched their way over, under the influence of some sort of magic, before jumping and landing in your lap, cosy, lined with rich fur and utterly bone dry. They shined bright with wax polish and smelled as though they were new.

“I…” You stuttered, “I can’t accept these. They’re made for royalty.” You brushed the fur inside.

“Take them. It is payment for your music and for your craft. Wear them well, little bird.” He purred before you watched his eyes grow tired again, the orange turning green and disappearing into the roots randomly before he hummed and disappeared entirely, “I will see you again.”

“Yes…See you next time.” You whispered as the roots twisted and knotted back into place, the Oak hiding where the creature had once been beneath it, “Maybe I’ll have something new for you.” You pulled on the heavy boots and smiled at the warmth and the fit before rushing back over the stream.

 You jumped from the rocks and smiled as you looked back into the trees. The sprites bolted from their homes.

“Darkness clings and darkness takes hold.” They whispered in your ears, hidden along your coat collar, “Temptation is the beginning of sin.” They rushed before ripping through your hair, “Careful little one. Darkness tempts in other ways.”

“What do you mean?” You asked but they disappeared up into their homes, leaving glittering dust behind them. You looked up and listened to the silence of the birds before rushing to make your way home before the darkness decided to set in. The sprites cowered in their moss homes as the night rolled in that night, and the wolves howled beneath their trees.

 “Does the bird’s song ever wake you?” The Darkness asked from his shadowed hole, his eyes watching your fingers move over the harp, “You only come to sing as the Sun raises to its highest point.” He observed, “Does someone else occupy your time?” He asked with a hiss.

“No.” You plucked a string particularly forcefully, “I’m busy in the mornings.” You confessed, “I have to cook and clean for myself now.” You felt tears well in your eyes.

“What troubles you?” The Darkness asked, the tips of his claws peaking from the roots.

“My Mother passed.” You confessed, “She was all I had left.” You whispered and the Darkness reached out before recoiling from the sunlight with a howl, forgetting himself as his eyes flared with anger.

“Does her passing not anger you. Such sorrow is ill-fitting. I have heard your song in the night.” There was a flicker of something in the shadows, “Can I not offer you some solace, bird?”

“I want nothing of your tricks, Darkness.” You spat, “I want to remember her in her chair, not as a walking corpse.”

The Darkness recoiled at your spite, “I offer no such thing…Only my company. If you would have it?”

You did not keep your shock to yourself, “Truly? You won’t trick me and drag me away into your hellhole?���

He laughed, “No, sweet thing. Where would the fun in that be?” The creature teased before tugging at your bag, “Sing your sorrows. Soon, your heart will not feel the pain anymore.”

You took hold of your bag and took out your hand harp, tightening one string with a watery smile before you sung late into the afternoon, beginning the process of healing your own heart.

 “Will you stay a little longer?” The Darkness asked as the sun reached to dip below the horizon. You’d been visiting for so long that you couldn’t remember the time before you did. Your days creating were much more fun with someone to critique your lyrics.

“It will be night-time soon.” You muttered over the rain which pattered against the Oak’s leaves. You were protected underneath it’s canopy, huddled in your fur, your boots tucked against you as you looked out at the rain. The stream bubbled with fresh new water, rushing harshly against the rocks.

“Night is just the day without light. What troubles you so that you cannot walk in it? There is nothing to harm you in these woods.” He offered, eyes flickering with green jealousy.

“There are wolves and mean sprites at night. Even forgetting that, I can’t find my way back without being able to see where I’m putting my feet.” You joked as the Darkness’ fingers tested the space outside of the roots, his claws curling into his own palm.

“Wolves are not after prey such as you.” The Darkness rebuked, “If I were here, no evil is greater than I. We would be alone, to enjoy the silence.”

You noted the whimsical tone of his statement, “Alone?” You asked gently, “Alone to do what? I have no songs about the night.”

He did not miss the joke, “All I would ask is that you sit, and talk with me.”

 The rain hissed as it poured against the trees and greenery. You were both quiet for a moment as you digested his request.

“Perhaps not tonight.” You replied, “I…”

“I do not need an explanation.” The Darkness’ tone was harsh, “I understand that your kindness does not go that far.”

“This is not a kindness. I do not pity you.” Taking a handful of leaves, you began to peel them from their stems.

“If not pity, then why do you still come?” He asked with a snarl, his pointed teeth clenched.

Peeling another leaf apart, you wondered why you still entertained his request, “I suppose that I have come to enjoy your retched company.”

“You flatter me, harpist.” The anger seemed to dissolve from him, “Then why not come, entertain me in flesh, tonight?”

 “Not tonight.” You smiled as you stood up, gathering your harp and shaking the sticks from your coat, “I heard there will be a storm soon.”

The Darkness moaned softly in the shadows, “Yes. Such a wonderous event. The fear, the agony and the unrest to the land. A time for my shadows to spread further.” He purred inside the roots before his burning gaze rested on you, “Meet me then, in the thunderstorm, I beg of you, my sweet.” His claws peered from the shadow before receding.

The taste of blood covered your tongue from biting your cheek, “When?”

“The day after next.” He whispered as you dipped your hand into the roots. The cold touch of the shadows made you shudder before there was a press of something to the back of your hand, “Wear something to dance.” The Darkness hummed before his lids grew tired and he disappeared into the roots. You jumped and took your hand back as the oak tree groaned and moved back its old roots, hiding the opening once more.  

 Thunder crashed for most of the next day before the real storm swirled over the land, black clouds twisting in on one another, rolling and spewing torrents of hammering rain. Wind blew down the mountainside for most of the morning. Carefully you chose and outfit in the afternoon, shuddering as the rain bounced off your windows, twirling in the fine silks and singing with the harp clutched in your hand about angering the mother of the skies. You watched the sun set as you ate, spooning your food into your mouth as fast as you could manage before you stole away into your room to grab at the large coat. The rain lightening as you stepped outside, your harp protected in your bag from the torrents. With a smile, you bounced into the woodlands from the cottage’s backdoor, mouth open wide as you sung once more.

“Rain and wind, thunder and howl, across ye plains. Birth of life, green and root, into the soil ‘gain. As the sun sleeps, douse the land, with water o’plenty. Watch and wait for Mother to sing, about when the larder was empty.” You sang as you rushed into the woods, listening in fear for the wolves as the rain slowed to a drizzle. Your hood flew from your head as you rushed beneath and over the homes of many animals, hunkered down away from the foul weather.

 Suddenly, you were laughing, twirling into the stream as the rain soaked your hair and the water filled your pumps. A great thunderous crash made you face the sky, looking into the clouds as blue electricity singed across their surface. Another crash was accompanied with a flash of light and you grinned at the power of it before jumping from the stream and throwing your coat off, the silks attached to your shoulders flaring as you plucked your harp from your bag and played over the rain and thunder, spinning in the moss beneath the Old Oak.

“Sweet harpist.” The Darkness purred and you opened your eyes as black silk and cloth rippled in front of the tree, the roots closing with a groan of upset behind his giant figure. The clothing covering him draped over his giant, ebony horns, falling in waves that rippled with the wind. You peered into the hood and saw his orange eyes. His eyes watched you, panting, sodden with the rain falling from the sky. His clawed hand reached from within the cloth covering and you span from his reach with a gentle pluck of your harp.

“You tease me.” He offered before another thunderous crash sounded, along with his laughter. The cape hood and cape around him billowed again in the wind, the encrusted jewels clinking, and you looked to see as the silk around his arms in two cuffs ripple gently. His form was interchangeable, and you watched him float before two cloven hooves thudded to the ground from beneath the bottom seam of the cloth.

 “Are you going to dance with me, my lord?” You asked as you span to play your harp away in your bag, thrown beneath the tree.

The Darkness nodded from within the hood and offered his red, clawed hands once more, “Let us celebrate this night.” He rumbled; his voice distorted as the thunder rumbled again overhead.

In his palms, your hands were dwarfed by his own, and you held onto them tightly as the Darkness drew you in closer to him, his silks blending with your own before he led you around in a small circle, one arm outstretched and the other placed at your hip. The cadence of the rain grew louder and louder as you both twirled past the oak tree and through the woodlands, trampling flowers and brambles as you span around in each other’s embrace. Rain soaked you as you laughed and ducked beneath his arms, and the Darkness howled with laughter as the thunder crashed and boomed overhead. A lightning flash revealed his red face, sharp, angular, and long with a mouth of white teeth, his incisors long and sharp. He leaned over and you reached to catch his face, pausing your dance in a great meadow which was soiled and boggy with water. Gently, you took hold of his cheeks, running your wet thumbs over his boiling skin. His hooves sunk in the mud as he leaned closer to you, staring into your eyes as the rain dripped from his great horns.

 “I suppose you think me a monster?” He asked as the thunder rolled above you both, drowning his bitter laughter from your ears.

“You’re the Darkness. You are not man nor monster.” You whispered close to his lips, “You are balance and sin.” It seemed like your tongue was loosened, “The sprites warned me…about temptation but you have given me nothing but comfort. There has been no agony, only laughter.” You reached to his pointed ears and closed your eyes as the rain rushed over you both.

The Darkness raised his great cloak and shielded you both from the downpour as his lips pressed against your own. It was gentle at first, hot and intimate, before his teeth nipped at your lower lip and his pointed tongue pressed into your mouth, hot against the coldness of your own mouth from standing in the rain. The Darkness wrapped you tighter beneath his cloth, the silk brushing your damp skin as one large hand cupped your face, his thumb tipping your head higher, and his other skated down your chest before cupping the small of your back.

 The kiss was long and passionate, filled with the decadence of the night, some things that the light simply could not offer to you. He pulled himself away from your lips, leaving you gasping for air as you recovered, wrapped in his great cloak.

“I feel…many things, when I am with you, little one.” The Darkness confessed into the folds of his cloak, his eyes looking into your own, meeting them with a confidence you had never seen before in an courter, “I would make you my ruler.” He confessed as he pressed your hand to his hot chest, underneath the cloth.

You looked up at him as rain dripped from his horns and over your own face, dripping down the bridge of your nose in speedy tracks, “I don’t want to be a master.”

“Then play for me, for all time. Play music and inspire my name into those once more.” He begged softly, clutching your hands before he hissed, the thunder crashing overhead once more.

“Can we be together?” You asked in a whisper, fear making your fingers tremble.

“For eternity.” He promised, “Beyond and after the ends of time. Sing songs of Darkness and Love for me.”

“Eternity…”

 There was another rumble, and you took his hands again, before the lightning struck a tree in the distance sending fire and wood exploding into the sky. His hood disappeared with a gale of wind before the cloth and silk wrapped around you once more and the Darkness hefted you into his arms, bleeding black with shadows and darkness as the storm and its plight fed him power. You leaned back in awe of the sky, rain burning your eyes as the clouds rolled above you. A great growl sounded from your lover’s chest before he laid you back against a great stone tablet, made for the harvest ceremonies of the fae. Your back met the stone gently before the silks slapped and stuck to the rock and you moved backwards as a furred leg rested against the edge. Red and black merged on his skin as he took hold of the silk and pulled you to the lip of the table, his eyes hungry for a taste of you.

 “Can we do this here?” You asked, breath escaping you as his huge form covered you, the black material shielding you from the rain as he stole another deep kiss.

“Yes. Anywhere. Whenever. I adore you.” He heaved as he pulled away, his words heavy in the air as he leaned back to tear as your clothing, exposing perfection to his gaze, “You are temptation.” He uttered with another heavy groan as lightning struck the earth again, “Glorious Sin.” He moaned as his tongue laved at your neck, tasting the flesh, “Surely this is what innocence tastes of. Purity and…” The Darkness broke off into another guttural moan as he kissed down your chest, pressing his tongue to your nipples, enjoying them as they hardened into sharp peaks. His hot breath pebbled your cold skin and he moved over your stomach, squeezing, and enjoying himself as he reached the dip of your hips. His tongue dipped to wrap around you, and you writhed against the table as rain crashed against the hillside.

[noyashighlight]

The Villianess who lived

Chapter one

“ And for the crimes of trying to harm another noble not only in public but in the vicinity of the royal family I summon you to death Y/n Villarreal.” The executioner’s voice boomed through the crowd of people gather in town square.

The one accused of the Horrendous crime was nothing more than a young girl, but not just any girl the daughter of Duke Villarreal who had just been beheaded this moment in an attempt to save his beloved daughter. Though she was vain and jealous of the baron's daughter for managing to steal her love the first prince, poisoning tea wasn’t her thing. Speaking of her beloved first prince, Tooru Oikawa was the one who sentenced her to this harsh death. He loved Maryanne Barlowe and not y/n, only being engaged to her for political advantage to be the crowned prince. He watched from his seat a daunting smirk on his face, his hatred for the girl ran deep to the point where the announcement of her death made him chuckle.

Next to him stood his best friend and personal knight Hajime Iwaizumi wearing his usual poker face. Though she was annoying with her unexplained love for the one he served and her cruel attitude towards women, the knight didn’t believe she deserved this punishment.

And on his other side sat Maryanne Barlowe the eighth and youngest child of the Baron, known as the sunflower of high society thanks to her friendly attitude she used to social climb. No one saw her as a threat due to her title, but now she would be the future empress. Soon she would reveal her true self as this was all an act for her, from pretending to be nice and weak to poisoning her own drink at a tea party Y/n hosted.

Y/n’s eyes shook with rage, hatred soared. Everything was taken from her, she was an accused villainess whose only real crime was falling for the wrong man who thought of her as a disposable object. “Any last words Lady Villarreal?” Tooru said standing from his seat, making sure he could get a good view of her in her last moments.

“ I hope that in my next life, I’ll be the one to place your head on a stick and parade it around the capital.” She still held her head high as if she wasn’t who just defamed the future self-proclaimed king.

He let out a loud chuckle that would send chills down anyone’s spine, “ Those who have sinned don’t get a next life, I hope the heavens forgive you my dear.” To think the only time he called her my dear was in a sinister setting. He nodded his head as cue for the executioner to do his job, “ May your damned soul find peace in the after life.” He whispered before swinging the sword down.

Her throat felt cold and burned as she shot up in her bed holding her throat letting out a scream of terror. “ My Lady are you okay?” Her personal maid Olivia burst through the double doors of her room. Y/n looked around horrified, she was back in her room. And Olivia was alive and well? This couldn’t be, the maid had died after taking the fall saying she had poured the tea thinking it would save her master.

“ I-I’m fine, how old am I?” It all felt too real to be a dream, was she given a second chance? Or was this the peacefulness of the afterlife being with the ones she loves? “ You’re about to turn 17 in a week, are you sure that you’re okay? You look pale and sweaty my lady.” The maid worried checking her head for fever or any signs of one. She was interrupted when Y/n pulled her down into a hug.

“ I’m fine Liv, I’m just happy to see you that’s all.” The young girl was never this gentle on any subject but that prince. Ah, that bastard who dared to cross her after devoting her life and body to him. She had a year until her death so she hadn’t done anything stupid yet. But to change her fate she had to change the future. “ What’s my schedule for today?” She hummed, if they wanted a villainess she would play the part but for her own benefit.

Olivia looked at y/n like she had lost her mind, “ You’re having tea with the first prince, you had to wait a whole month to get him to agree since he said he was busy.” Ah, that was right Tooru did all he could do to ignore and shun his betrothed. What a cowardly man, she thought getting out of bed.

“ I want to wear a light orange dress today, the more innocent the better. I’ve got a crow to catch.” She smiled to herself as sat in front of her vanity. Her maid was distraught by the sudden change of dress. “ But my lady! You’ve had that revealing aqua dress you were planning to wear since it’s Prince Tooru’s favorite color.” Maybe her mistress had finally lost her mind.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, love was such a blind curse. “ Throw it out, and anything else that color it makes me was to puke. Now pick me out something simple for breakfast so I can have breakfast with father. The maid nodded and quickly got her ready.

“ Father!” Y/n hugged the stern Duke, his face automatically softening. She hadn’t clung to him like this since he told her that he got the king to accept her engagement to Prince Tooru. “well hello to you too sweetheart, what did I do to deserve this?” He was curious, he hadn’t brought her anything over the past few days due to him being gone.

She couldn’t believe that her father was standing before her alive and well. “ Nothing I’m just glad to see you, now let’s have breakfast together before I have to go to the palace. “ she clung to his arm as they walked to the table together, she was going to make sure her father didn’t die in vain this time.

“ And we're finished, you look gorgeous Lady Y/n. No Lady’s beautiful rivals yours, the prince will definitely fall in love with you this time.” Olivia gushed at her handy work, as y/n stared at herself in the mirror astonished at her reflection. “ Olivia I will reward you when I come back home, now I must go I don’t want to be late.” She smiled making her way to her carriage, it didn’t matter if she was late or not because the prince would always arrive an hour late just to show the true distance between them. In this hour of free time she would set her plan into action.

“ Lady Villarreal.” Her knight Wakatoshi Ushijima said, holding out his hand to help her on to the carriage. “ Toshi I told you not to be so formal when no one is around, I get enough of that already.” She giggled at him taking his hand and getting on. Not only was he the best knight of the Duke but also her childhood friend.

“ My apologies lad- y/n, I’m used to you always having one of the noble ladies with you.” Those ladies weren’t here friends only using her for her high status, in the past, she was just too dumb to see but now it was clear as day.

The second she arrived at the palace she told wakatoshi to wait for her, as she wanted her alone time with the prince. Aha if only they knew which prince she was talking about. Y/n was headed to the crow garden, where the second prince Tobio Kageyama would be since it was a garden dedicated to his late mother. Once aprincess from another kingdom before becoming the empress while Tooru’s mother was only a queen. Sadly Tobio’s mother died at a young age, this palace was deadly yet somehow he was still alive. She was taking a real gamble coming here trying to meet him, it could even cost her life but whether she dies now or a year later made no difference.

The garden was filled with orange and black flowers that seemed almost otherworldly, the girl looked like she was a part of the garden with her dress blending into the flowers. No sign of the second prince at all, maybe her plan was going all to waste. The girl crouched down gently touching a flower. Just then she felt a cold sword on her shoulders threatening to cut her neck. “ Your highness prince Tobio has forbidden anyone from picking the flowers. Stand up slowly and turn to state your name.” Y/n gulped as she followed instructions meeting eyes with Shoyo Hinata, the orange-headed prince’s guard. He usually wore a playful smile but when ordered to can become deadly in seconds.

“ Lower your sword, I’m very aware of who she is. Though I have no idea why you’d show your face in this part of the palace.” A low voice ordered from behind Shoyo. prince Tobio finally came into the picture, but he didn’t look too happy.

Y/n bowed after the sudden shock, “ Glory to you your highness, may you prosper.” She spoke humbly, he was almost taken aback that she was bowing in his stead. Yes, she was in a lower position than him, but rumor had it that the duke’s daughter thought of herself as a prince who would only bow below the king and her beloved. “ You may rise, Lady Villarreal, why have you come here?”

He was itching to find out why she was here of all places, was she sent by his brother to kill him? Tobio had never formally met Y/n only the rumors that she was an evil being. There was no evil being that stood before him just a lovely woman who looked innocent. “ I’m sorry that I’ve intruded, I’ve heard about this garden since I was little but was never able to come. Also I heard that you would be here.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, with Knight Hinata still here she couldn’t reveal her true plan yet.

She came here for him? What business did she have him with anyway? Maybe he had done something to offend her, Shoyo often told him that his face was scary and made ladies cry. “ Why would I be interesting enough for the lady to come all the way here just to see me? Does my brother know that you are here?” He and everyone else knew Tooru didn’t love Y/n but if he knew one thing about his brother is that he is possessive. Just knowing that his fiancé came to see him would drive him crazy.

“ Ah I can’t say, your guard is scaring me.” She lied straight through her teeth, Tobio took the bait nodded his head to dismiss his knight. “ Now you may speak freely.” This whole encounter was strange for him and what she was about to say was even stranger.

She took a deep breath, worse comes to worse she would be sent to jail for offending royalty. “ I’m going to cancel the engagement with the first prince.” She looked up to meet his eyes that just went wide with concern and confusion.

“ Why would you do that? And why would you be telling me this as if it mattered to me?” He questioned as his eyes narrowed with suspicion, maybe she wasn’t as weak as he had thought when he saw her.

Y/n smiled as she had just won a prize, he was asking questions which was a good sign. “ Well, it’s clear that Prince Tooru doesn’t love me, and is only with me for ties to the Villarreal Dukedom. Without me lowers his chances of being king, being with Maryanne Barlowe who can’t give him a status raise will be his downfall.”

“ You know speaking of a future king while the current one is still alive is a crime right, yet you refuse to bite your tongue. Go on and continue, I’ll decide by the end of this if you’ll end up in the dungeon or not.” Tobio advised causing her to gulp, she must not falter to his empty threats. 

“ My birthday ball Tooru will bring lady Maryanne instead of escorting me, excuse me but that bastard is going to embarrass me for that woman publicly. I do not wish to stay by his side, I do not wish to love anymore. So please be my escort to my birthday, I will back you and make you king. Just don’t let me die.” Her eyes began to water and gloss over which she didn’t intend to happen, the thought of repeating the past scared her.

Tobio was taken back by the sudden emotions she held, she was shaking like her life was in danger. How was her fiancé being unfaithful going to end in death? His brain swirled with theories and answers but nothing made sense. This offer was too good for him to decline also too risky in the same sense. “ Keep your word that you’re going to cancel the engagement, then I’ll send you a message on what my answer will be.” This was the only acceptable answer he could give fearing this could all be a trap, something in her eyes was crying for him to help. If Tooru did become king he was as good as dead since he had hate for Tobio. With that he left without another word, he couldn’t take in any more information at the moment.

Y/n sat in the indoor garden sipping on her tea, she had been here for two hours, her fiancé was running extra late today not that she minded. It gave her time to practice speaking calmly instead of jumping over the table and brutally murder him for the trauma he had caused from her death. When the door opened Tooru arrived with Hajime, this tea was informal as ever how did y/n of the past look forward to meeting this rude man.

“ Sorry for being late, I had some stuff to take care of. “ he sat down expecting her to whine about how she had waited so long to see him. “ I didn’t mind, I was enjoying being in my own company. I’m starting to prefer spending time with myself instead.” She said calmly not even bothering to look up from her tea.

He smirked at her attitude, he wished she was always like this instead of drooling all over him. “ Your birthday is next week, I’m guessing you’re here to ask me to escort you? I’ll be wearing blue so you have to match me.” He loved toying with her emotions and getting her hopes up, yes he would agree to go but not with her.

Y/n hated the way he was so cocky and sure of himself, “ You don’t have to worry about us matching, I’m not wearing blue at all.” She simply stated finally meeting eyes with him. “ Is this your way of telling me that you want us to wear a different color? How rude you know I love blue.” If she wanted to wear a different color he would comply since it wasn’t his party but usually she agreed with whatever he said.

“ No not us, I will be wearing a different color since you won’t be escorting me.” She dropped the bomb on him even making his knight flinch at her harsh words. Tooru most definitely thought she was playing hard to get now. “ Why wouldn’t I be? I’m your loving fiancé aren't I?” He wore a playful smirk on his face, she was going to cave in if he played the part of a lover.

She chuckled at his ignorance, he just wasn’t getting it was he? “ Prince Tooru we both know you don’t love me, and I’ve decided to stop loving you now. So why don’t we do each other a favor, and stop this? I y/n Villarreal am annulling this engagement.” She stood up from her seat shucking the prince who could only grind his teeth. Lowering herself she got close to his ear, “ Why don’t you ask Maryanne Barlowe to be your betrothed, or you might be better off marrying a commoner.” Y/n stood up straight as she made her way to the door.

Tooru could barely react in time, “ If you leave right now Y/n, I will never take you back no matter how much you or your father beg me.” He stood up quickly making his chair topple over with a slam, their was no way this weak-minded girl changed overnight.

“ Your highness please refer to me as Lady Villarreal in public from now on, I don’t want people to get weird ideas.” She smiled politely before exiting, leaving the prince to flip over the tea table in anger. Though she had escaped from that death doesn’t mean she escaped from death completely.

A/n: it took me awhile to place the characters! Thank you to everyone who submitted stuff, I’m sorry if I didn’t get to use the character you wanted but I’ll be making some headcannons for the ones y’all sent. P.s I don’t hate Oikawa at all but you can’t tell me he doesn’t play his part well lmaooo. See you next time <3

[salvejoon]

Life is Beautifully Ugly (At Times) - pjm | 01

⇒ Warnings for this chapter: Death of minor characters, mentions of a car accident, losing a loved one, a child being orphaned, cursing, Jimin being an ass, reader being a bitch.

⇒ A/N: Hey lovelies! I’m back-ish! I’ve been working on this project for months now and I’ve finally found my muse again and so I got to writing more and more chapters for this. Please enjoy the first chapter of hopefully my first series (but not my last). xoxo

“Imo!” Your head shot up at the happy squeal and you bent down to one knee, opening your arms, almost toppling over at the force your niece ran into you.

“Oof!” Your arms closed around her and she buried her nose in your hair as her arms went around your neck, “Hello my pretty little flower.” You drew back and nuzzled her nose with yours to which she frowned. 

“I’ve grown 1 inch so I’m not little anymore.” 

“You’ll always be my pretty little flower, Hyejin. No matter how tall you get.” You picked her up as you stood, groaning briefly as you adjusted her on your hip, “But you are getting a little bit heavy.”

Hyejin giggled, “Appa also says I’m getting heavy. Says his back hurts.” 

“That’s because your Appa is getting old.” 

A hum came from the doorway and you saw Han, your brother-in-law, standing there, looking dapper in a black and white tux, his natural black hair swept back from his face, “You’re the one to talk, Y/N. You’re closer to 30 than I am.” 

You rolled your eyes, “No need to remind me, Han.” You said just as your younger sister, Charlotte gently pushed Han out of the doorframe, looking a little bit frantic, “Missing something?” You asked her as she walked over to the vanity, opening several drawers.

“My watch.”

“The one laying right in front of you?” 

Charlotte sighed heavily as her eyes landed upon her watch, “Thanks.” 

“What would you do without me?” You smirked as she walked over to you and took Hyejin from your arms and her daughter protested with a small whine.

“Can’t I go with you, Eomma?” She asked and glanced longingly at you and her father, “I also want to go to the ball and look pretty.” 

Charlotte chuckled and kissed her forehead, “Another time, baby. This is for grown-ups only.” 

“Why is it always only for adults? I want to go too!” She protested loudly, crossing her arms and pouted.

You ruffled her hair, “How about you and I play dress-up tomorrow, hm? How does that sound? I’ve bought new shoes you can try.” You winked at her and Hyejin’s pout slowly vanished. 

“Can I put make-up on you, Imo?” 

“Sure.” 

Charlotte put her down and bent down just as the doorbell rang, gently wiping her daughter’s hair back from her face, “You be good to Mrs. Shin, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yes, Eomma.” 

You absentmindedly stared out the window as the limousine drove through one of the high-end districts of Seoul. Closed off ground containing High-Rise buildings towered the streets and in between, they were grand mansions. 

You felt out of place here, in this part of town.

You preferred Han and Charlotte’s apartment in the more affordable part of Seoul. 

“Y/N.”

You hummed at the sound of your sister’s voice.

“Promise me you’ll be nice.” 

You shifted your gaze to her and raised a brow, “When am I not nice?” You asked and shook your head when Charlotte sent you a knowing look, “Oh please. Just because he’s going to be there doesn’t mean I won’t be nice.”

Han snorted, “The last time you saw each other, it ended up in the tabloids.” 

You glared at him and tch’ed, “Your brother called me - me - a prude, and I simply wanted him to teach him some manners.”

“You don’t teach someone manners by threatening them, Y/N.” Came the rational voice of Charlotte. 

This time you snorted and rolled your eyes, “Wow, you two really take his side.” 

“We are not but you two should bury that hatchet, whatever it is. He is actually nice once you get to know him.” 

“He’s a conceited asshole that needs to be beaten down a peg or ten. There is nothing nice about him.”

“Y/N…”

“Yeah, yeah.”

There was once a time where you would have taken in the beautiful surroundings of the ballroom with all it’s marble and gold, tall doors, and crystal chandeliers and would have felt like a princess. 

But this wasn’t your first rodeo at a gathering such as this nor would it be your last. 

You hated them now. Well, not hated but found them so superficial because all it was was rich people prancing around with their noses in the air while they had a pissing contest of who had the most money, the fastest car, the grandest of mansions, or the youngest wife.

“Smile.” Charlotte noted as she sat down next to you, followed by Han who had finally managed to break free of one of the old ladies' claws, no doubt talking about finances.

You plastered on a fake smile but said smile quickly vanished when you spotted a familiar face approaching the table. 

You tried to hide your scowl as the man came up to the table, dressed in a burgundy-colored suit that cost more than what you earned in a year, his ears adorned with silver dangling earrings with matching diamond rings on his fingers. The last time you had seen him, he’d donned blonde hair but now it was gray and it was swept back neatly, showing off his face. 

And he had a new chick on his arm.

No surprise there.

Park Jimin was one of the biggest fuckboys you knew, if not the biggest. 

He dragged his eyes from his date to you and a knowing smirk spread on his lips when he saw your scowl. No doubt he was already planning various ways to piss you off. 

“Jimin. Nice of you to show up…” Charlotte glanced at her wristwatch, “20 minutes later than we agreed upon but it’s better than an hour like last time.” 

Jimin removed his eyes from you and looked at your sister with an innocent smile, “I apologize, Charlotte. Things dragged out at the board meeting.” The woman on his arm tugged at it, “And may I introduce Jisoo. My date.” 

Han bowed his head and your sister smiled sweetly at her and you… Well, you ignored them. 

That was until Charlotte jabbed you in the ribs, “Ow! Hi, whatever.” You grumbled, glaring at her before meeting Jisoo’s smiling face and forced your lips upwards. 

“As formal as ever, Y/N.” Jimin drawled before sitting down across from you, his smirk back on his lips, “Where is your date?” 

“I came alone.” You answered stiffly. 

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, “As usual.” 

Arrogant asshole. 

“At least I’m not fucking my way through the female population of Seoul.” 

Jisoo opened her mouth to object but a tap on the mic shut all of you up and you just aimed a glare at him. He met you with one of his own. The tension rose at the table and you heard your brother-in-law sigh softly. 

“It’s going to be a long evening.” You heard him murmur. 

The hours dragged on and so far you’d listened to four long speeches, three performances by some musicians you had never heard of, and had Charlotte remind you of your promise ten times.

You found yourself sitting alone at the table, date-less while your sister was out dancing with Han and Jimin had vanished. 

Probably aiming the money-shot between his date’s breasts.

The image of that left a bad taste in your mouth, so you focused on the dancing people on the floor.

You could easily find a willing dance partner. There were loads of young bachelors at such an event like this but they were so boring to you. You didn’t care about numbers, board meetings, or future merges. Charlotte had given up trying to set you up long ago since you scared most of them away. 

You deemed your independence a part of your charm. Charlotte didn’t agree. 

The ironic part was that the only man here, that could keep up with you, was an arrogant dickwad with a stick so far up his ass, he could pick his teeth with it. 

And he was probably fucking his date at the toilet. There you go again with those thoughts. 

“Ugh.” You shuddered and willed the images away as you picked up your wine glass and took a sip. The best thing about these events was the free booze. 

Too bad you weren’t allowed to get hammered because the last time you got shitfaced, you had dragged Jimin by his collar, trying to get him outside so you could ‘rearrange that stick’. The tabloids had a field day with that instance. It hadn’t been the first time you had threatened to kick his ass and you doubted it would be the last. 

Jimin just knew how to push the right buttons. 

“No one has asked you for a dance yet?” 

Your left eye twitched in annoyance, “No. Not yet. Are you offering?” You asked as you looked at Jimin with a raised brow. 

“No. I prefer my dance partners to be more… graceful. I don’t like getting stepped on.” 

“But I can be graceful, Jimin.” 

“Oh? When?” He asked as he sat down in the chair and crossed his legs. 

“When I step on your throat, choking the life out of you.” 

“Kinky, Y/N. I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

You scoffed and leaned back in your chair, “Where’s your date? Recovering from having your filthy hands on her body?”

“And if she is?” 

“Then tell her I know a therapist.” 

Jimin threw you a glare, one you returned with an unimpressed, bored look, “She’s in the restroom.” 

“Trying to wash away her sins, no doubt.”

“Are you jealous, Y/N? You seem oddly fixated on my sexual interactions.” 

You picked up your wine glass and shrugged, “For me to be jealous, Jimin, it would require I had some sort of feelings for you, which I do not other than absolute disgust.” You downed the rest of the wine that was in the glass, deciding you were done entertaining him, “And I’d undoubtedly get more satisfaction by watching old men dance with their young wives than having sex with you.” With that you rose from the table. You flicked a strand of hair over your shoulder as you put your bag on the table, “Now be a good boy and look after my belongings.” 

“Where are you going?” He asked stiffly. 

“To dance, of course. Might step on a toe or two but what the hell.” 

Your escape from the table hadn’t gone as smoothly as you had hoped because Charlotte and Han were nowhere to be found, the men that had approached you were either 60 and above and the bartender hadn’t seemed particularly keen on entertaining you with small talk. So you opted to venture outside instead. 

The air was chilly and you shivered a little, rubbing your arms to regain some heat as you looked up. The sky was clear and the stars twinkled while the moon showered the ground in it’s white glow. It was a pretty evening, really. You had the sudden urge to just lay down on the grass and stargaze. 

You felt something heavy being draped over your shoulders and you turned around to see a pair of dimples and a bright smile. 

You knew those dimples.

And that smile.

Those kind, warm, honeyed eyes. 

Your heart sped up. 

Before you could open your mouth to greet him, Namjoon booped your nose, “Thought I saw you dash outside. Are you avoiding me?” 

You shoved his shoulder, albeit gently with a smile on your lips, “Duh. Of course, I am avoiding you.” 

He frowned, “The sex can’t have been that bad.” He pouted.

You rolled your eyes, “It was terrible. Absolutely terrible.” 

“You really know how to hurt a man's pride, Y/N.” He chuckled and enveloped you in a tight hug, “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Joonie. I haven’t seen you in, what, 3 months?” You drew back, “I didn’t know you were attending the fundraiser.”

Namjoon kept his arms around your waist as he sheepishly smiled down at you, “I wasn’t planning on attending since I am so busy lately but when Han told me you’d be here, I had to come.” 

“Aw, my little Joonie bug.” 

He let go of you and you stepped back, “So how is the partnership coming along?” You asked, standing next to him, “Charlotte told me you’ve been super duper uber busy.” 

He sighed, “I have been so fucking busy and work has just been taking up all of my time and I am so tired of it.”

“Oh, Joonie.”

“But I can now call myself partner and a board member of Kim & Co Lawyers.” 

You squealed, your arms finding purchase around his neck as you jumped up and down of excitement, “OH MY GOD! CONGRATULATIONS!” 

Big hand engulfed your face and squished, “Thank you but calm down, sprout. No reason to entertain the whole neighborhood.”

“Buf u gos te parfership.”

“Yes.”

“lso yo ar ruinf te makuf.”

“I am fully aware of that, sprout.” 

“Le gof.”

He chuckled and let go of your face, placing his hands on your shoulders instead, “Thank you. But how are you? Charlotte told me you’d be expanding the brand soon.”

You grinned and nodded, “Yes! I am so excited but at the same time also a little sad. That shop has been my bread and butter for 4 years now but it was about time I listened to my sister and expanded… With the help of some investors, of course.” 

“Well, I am looking forward to seeing you take over the world, Y/N.” 

You snorted and grabbed his hand, “Pfft, I think I’ll just deal with getting my designs on the interwebz first and see how that goes. Now let’s go get some wine and talk shit about other people.” 

“There you are!” You and Namjoon halted your conversation as Charlotte appeared between you, “We’ve been looking for you.”

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sis.”

She glared but there was a teasing glint in her eyes, “Joonie has a habit of stealing your time.” 

“I’m like the most important man in her life, what did you expect?” Namjoon rolled his eyes as Charlotte bumped his shoulder, “Not in the way you want, woman.” 

Your sister huffed and shook her head, “What do I have to pay you to marry Y/N? Seriously, you’re like the only guy that can keep up with her shit and not want to run away.”

“Who says I don’t want to run away?” 

You slapped his arm that was draped over the bar counter, “Fuck you. You love me.” 

“I do but not enough to get my dick wet.” 

“That monster you call a dick wouldn’t fit anyway.” 

“Thank you, I guess, for calling it a monster, Y/N, but I would have made it fit. Preparation is key.” 

“That’s what I keep saying. Foreplay is an important part of-”

“Alright, I clearly interrupted something here so I would just like to give you the heads up and Han and I are going home.” Charlotte interrupted you and leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, “He’s drunk and I was getting tired anyway.” 

“Sure. I’ll see you back home.” You said, wiping at your cheek before turning it towards Namjoon, “Do I have a stain?”

He shook his head before accepting a peck on his cheek from Charlotte, “Nope. Looking smooth as always.” 

“You make sure she gets home safely, Joonie.”

“You have nothing to worry about.”

“And not too late, okay?”

“Bye Charlotte! Love you!” You called as she wandered off, dragging a swaying Han with her towards the entrance.

Jimin sat at the table, Jisoo at his side. He had tuned most of her blabbering out, finding the topic ‘what shoes to wear to her friend’s wedding’ quite boring. Instead, his eyes were trained on the dance floor where not many people were dancing. 

More specifically you and Namjoon that was talking more than dancing and he saw you smile, laughing at how your dance partner seemed to trip over his own feet. 

He scoffed. 

“Are you listening to what I’m saying, baby?”

“Of course, Jisoo. The red pair of shoes sounds good.” 

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, eyes narrowing at the number, he swiped his thumb across the screen.

“Yes?” He said. 

“Jimin, hey, it’s Seokjin.” 

“I could see on the caller-id.”

There was a brief pause and Jimin held up a hand to silence Jisoo when she yanked at his arm. Then there was a beeping sound and the sound of doors being banged open, “Jin, what’s going on?”

“Sorry about that… I don’t know how to say this but you need to come to the hospital.”

“Why?” 

“It’s your brother. Jimin, you need to come and quick.” 

His throat felt as dry as sandpaper as he stood up and hung up, eyes darting to your dancing and laughing form on the dancefloor. 

“Jimin, baby, where are you going?” Jisoo asked him as he took a step, her hands clinging onto his wrist. 

“S-Sorry, I have somewhere I need to be.” He answered, his voice shaky, “I’ll arrange for someone to take you home.” 

“Wait!” She called out as he ran towards you.

You were laughing so hard at how Namjoon had just tripped over his own two feet again when Jimin appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist, “What the fuck?” 

“Fun time is over.” Jimin said and tugged you with him as he headed towards the exit.

You yanked your wrist free, Namjoon appearing at your side, “Um no, it isn’t. What’s with you?” You asked him. 

Jimin looked at you and Namjoon, “Y/N.” You raised a brow at the tone of his voice… He sounded scared, “We have to go now.” 

“Did something happen?” You immediately grew worried because Jimin never sounded scared. 

“Seokjin just called me and… Something happened with Han and Charlotte.” 

You had never felt such fear. 

The ride to the hospital was tense and quiet. Jimin drove like a maniac through the streets of Seoul while Namjoon had tagged along as support. The two men sat in the front of the car, exchanging no words whatsoever, leaving you to your thoughts running rampant. 

Then you arrived at the hospital and everything happened so quickly.

A drunk driver collided with their limousine.

Their driver was killed on impact. 

Charlotte and Han were in critical condition.

You had no idea how much time had passed from when you had arrived to when you were sitting on the chair outside the ward, Jimin prancing back and forth like a caged animal.

Then the doctor appeared from the ward and Namjoon was quick to leave your side, going to talk to him.

You stood up, watching as they talked and you felt Jimin’s presence next to you.

Time seemed to slow down when your eyes locked with Namjoon’s, the sadness in his eyes conveying the message you had yet to receive but you knew. 

They were gone. 

You could feel someone wrap their arms around you as you tumbled to the floor, your own piercing wail deaf to your ears as you felt your chest implode on itself with heartbreak. 

Jimin struggled to keep you upright as you collapsed, your cries so very loud in his ears but it didn’t matter. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to hear why you had broken down. It was clear as day by the way Namjoon looked. 

His brother was gone. Your sister was gone. Both of them were gone. 

You cried out her name and Jimin tightened his hold on you when you tried to crawl away from him. 

He might not like you and you may not like him but he knew that you should not go through this pain alone. So when you clutched his shirt so tightly in your balled fists, your cries finally lowering to whimpering and you buried your head in his chest, Jimin held you tight.

The feeling of time was lost on you when you entered Han and Charlotte’s apartment. Your mind was empty and you were pretty sure your heart had stopped beating. 

Mrs. Shin appeared as you took off your shoes and placed your purse on a small table. She looked puzzled upon seeing you, and only you, return. 

“Where is…” She trailed off as you grabbed her hand. 

“They’re gone.” Was all you said and her shoulders sagged as she moved her free hand to cover her mouth, “Is she sleeping?”

“She is.” 

You nodded and walked past her, down the hall, towards Hyejin’s room. The door was slightly ajar and you slowly opened it, finding her room dark except for a small lamp in the corner. 

She hated the dark.

Like Charlotte. 

You felt tears stream down your cheeks at the thought of your sister but willed them away. You had to be strong now for Hyejin. 

Nothing else mattered.

Hyejin woke up when her mattress shifted and she turned her head, rubbing one eye, “Eomma?” 

“No, honey. It’s me.” 

She sat up, looking puzzled, “Where’s Eomma? She always comes to kiss me goodnight.” 

You opened your arms and closed them around her tiny frame, “I know.” You placed your head upon hers and took a deep breath, “Listen, sweetie…”

[puckrph]

HOZIER SENTENCE STARTERS

taken from hozier’s first album & his ep from eden. feel free to change pronouns, etc!

TAKE ME TO CHURCH

‘ you’re the giggle at a funeral. ’ ‘ i should’ve worshiped you sooner. ’ ‘ if the heavens ever did speak, you’re the last true mouthpiece. ’ ‘ the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you. ’ ‘ i was born sick, but i love it. ’ ‘ i’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ’ ‘ i’ll tell you my sins, and you can sharpen your knife. ’ ‘ let me give you my life. ’ ‘ if i’m a pagan of the good times, my lover’s the sunlight. ’ ‘ that looks tasty. ’ ‘ there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin. ’

ANGEL OF SMALL DEATH & THE CODEINE SCENE

‘ we’re shaking the wings of our terrible youths. ’ ‘ i lurched like a stray to the arms that were open. ’ ‘ with your sweetened breath and your tongue so mean, you’re the angel of small death and the codeine scene. ’ ‘ i lay my heart down with the rest at your feet. ’ ‘ it’s bloody and raw, but i swear it is sweet. ’

JACKIE AND WILSON

‘ so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. ’ ‘ you found me just in time. ’ ‘ i never felt young. ’ ‘ you’re gonna save me. ’ ‘ call me ‘baby,’ run your hands through my hair. ’ ‘ we’ll steal a lexus, be detectives, ride around picking up clues. ’ ‘ it’d be great to find a place we could escape to sometime. ’ ‘ i’m happy to lie back, watch it burn and rust. ’ ‘ i tried the world; good god, it wasn’t for me. ’

SOMEONE NEW

‘ you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ’ ‘ would things be easier if there was a right way? there is no right way. ’ ‘ i fall in love just a little bit every day with someone new. ’ ‘ there’s an art to life’s distraction. ’ ‘ some like to imagine the dark caress of someone else; i guess any thrill will do. ’

TO BE ALONE

‘ i never feel to good in crowds with folks around. ’ ‘ all i’ve ever done is hide. ’ ‘ when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, i feel like a person for a moment of my life. ’ ‘ you don’t know what hell you put me through. ’ ‘ it feels good to be alone with you. ’ ‘ now at last the worst is over. ’ ‘ i know you hate this place. not a trace of me would argue. ’ ‘ we should run away. ’

FROM EDEN

‘ there’s something tragic about you. ’ ‘ there’s something so magic about you. ’ ‘ there’s something lonesome about you - something so wholesome about you. ’ ‘ get closer to me. ’ ‘ you’re familiar. ’ ‘ idealism sits in prison; chivalry fell on its sword. ’ ‘ innocence died screaming - ask me, i should know. ’ ‘ i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door. ’ ‘ there’s something wretched about this. ’ ‘ there’s something so precious about this. ’ ‘ to the strand, a picnic planned for you and me - a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree. ’

IN A WEEK

‘ i have never known peace. ’ ‘ i have never known hunger like these insects that feast on me. ’ ‘ we’ll lay here for years or for hours - thrown here or found, to freeze or to thaw - so long we become the flowers. ’ ‘ they’d find us in a week. ’ ‘ i’d be home with you. ’ ‘ i have never known colours like this morning reveals to me. ’ ‘ you haven’t moved an inch; such that i would not know if you sleep always like this, the flesh calmly growing cold. ’

SEDATED

‘ just a little rush, babe, to feel dizzy, to derail the mind of me. ’ ‘ my veins are busy, but my heart’s in atrophy. ’ ‘ you and i, nursing on a poison that never stung - our teeth and lungs are lined with the scum of it. ’ ‘ free and young, and we can feel none of it. ’ ‘ i’m somewhere outside my life. i keep scratching, but somehow i can’t get in. ’ ‘ i’m a slave to any semblance of touch. ’ ‘ i should cool it, but i love it too much. ’ ‘ don’t you stand there watching, won’t you come and save me? ’ ‘ don’t you join in, you’re supposed to drag me away from it. ’

WORK SONG

‘ i’m so full of love, i could barely eat. ’ ‘ you give me toothaches just from kissing me. ’ ‘ when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth. no grave will hold my body down; i’ll crawl home to you. ’ ‘ i didn’t care much how long i lived. ’ ‘ i swear, i thought i dreamed you. you never asked me once about the wrong i did. ’

LIKE REAL PEOPLE DO

‘ i had a thought about that night. ’ ‘ why were you digging? ’ ‘ what did you bury? ’ ‘ i will not ask you where you came from. ’ ‘ honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. ’ ‘ we should just kiss like real people do. ’ ‘ i know that look: eyes always seeking. ’ ‘ i will not ask you why you were creeping. in some sad way i already know. ’

IT WILL COME BACK

‘ you know better. ’ ‘ don’t give me a hand. ’ ‘ don’t let me in with no intention to keep me - jesus crhist, don’t be kind to me. ’ ‘ you know better than to smile at me like that. ’ ‘ you know better than to hold me just like that. ’ ‘ i know who i am when i’m alone. i’m something else when i see you. ’ ‘ you don’t understand. you should never know how easy you are to need. ’ ‘ through the cold, i’ll find my way back to you. ’ ‘ give me mercy no more; that’s a kindness you can’t afford. ’

FOREIGNER’S GOD

‘ you move with shameless wonder. ’ ‘ my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s belief. ’ ‘ screaming the name of a foreigner’s god: the purest expression of grief. ’ ‘ i’ve no language left to say it, but all i do is quake to you. ’ ‘ all that i’ve been taught and every word i’ve got is foreign to me. ’

CHERRY WINE

 ‘ your eyes and words are so icy, but you burn like rum on a fire. ’ ‘ i walk my days on a wire. ’ ‘ don’t fuss over me. ’ ‘ the blood is rare, and sweet as cherry wine. ’ ‘ but i want it. ’ ‘ it’s a crime that you’re not around most of the time. ’ ‘ your fight and fury’s fiery. ’ ‘ you love like sleep to the freezing. ’ ‘ i’m all but washed in the tide of your breathing. ’ ‘ it’s worth it. ’ ‘ it’s divine that i have this some of the time. ’

IN THE WOODS SOMEWHERE

‘ i heard a scream in the woods somewhere. ’ ‘ what caused the wound? ’ ‘ i forgot all prayers of joining you. ’ ‘ my dearest love, i’m not done yet. ’ ‘ i found something. ’

RUN

‘ rare is this love. ’ ‘ i need you to run to me, lover. ’ ‘ i know what it is to grow beneath her sky. ’ ‘ you’re the cause of every tear i’d ever weep. ’

ARSONIST’S LULLABY

‘ when i was a child, i heard voices. ’ ‘ i heard voices. ’ ‘ you soon find you have few choices. ’ ‘ i can barely tear my eyes away. ’ ‘ all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. ’ ‘ don’t ever tame your demons - but always keep them on a leash. ’ ‘ something will always rule me. ’ ‘ i thought it ended when i knew love’s perfect ache. ’ ‘ my peace has always depended on all the ashes in my wake. ’

MY LOVE WILL NEVER DIE

‘ you’ve done me wrong for a long, long time. ’ ‘ i never changed my mind. ’ ‘ please try to love me. ’ ‘ my love will never die. ’ ‘ flowers will grow where i’m laid to rest. pick a blossom and hold it to your breast.’

[catinthesun2]

The Woman

I stand frozen under the soft lights above. Great classical works adorn the walls around me.  I hear the names of artists, of Michelangelo, Raphael, Rubens, and Botticelli.  Pride and awe fill the air as curious gazes wander the room.  Each stare eventually makes its way to me.  The passing gazes halt to inspect my form.  Some marvel at the white marble’s smoothness.  Others turn their noses up in disgust.  A few turn their heads downward, cheeks flush, as if they caught a private moment between new lovers.  I suppose it is out of respect; perhaps this is a private moment of sorts.  An intimate moment meant to be shared within the confidence of bedrooms where it is only oneself and one’s God, and these passersby are not my God.

Then again, I cannot stop them in anyway.  I cannot turn their heads away.  I cannot force them to walk faster.  I cannot do anything.  Instead, I stand frozen under the soft lights above and pray the lights will fall dark once more.  In the darkness, I know no eyes will linger on my bare form.  I am safe from judgement, whether it be amazement or repulsion.  Either way, I did not ask for it.

However, in the same way the lights fall, each dawn they flicker on once more, and I am beheld by men, women, and children. Critics judge the curves in the stone, curves in my form, pouncing on any flaw as a sign my creation is subpar. They debate the purpose and nature of art in place of self-examination.  Students study the turn of my lips and the bend of my bones. They examine the accuracy of my anatomy birthed from a long dead artist’s chisel.  Scholars search for a hidden history within the ever-blooming spring flowers dancing upon my fingertips.  They look for a truth I do not have.  

Today, there is to be no difference.  Within my stone prison, I wish to wilt like august harvest meeting the first frost of winter, yet the flowers I hold stay open in their eternal blossoms.  The seasons hold no bearing on myself, so I have long since lost track of the when. As the first passersby’s make their way inward, I prepare myself for their scorn.  The minutes tick by, stretching into hours that I am unable to count.

A mother ushers her child by quickly, to hide my visage from innocent eyes.  I wish I could frown.  However, passed the mother and her child, passed the ogling scholars, I spot a face I have never seen before.  Not in the sense that the curve of her brow or the angle of her chin are foreign—I have long since blurred those details—but her expression.  At first, I confuse the scowl, the way she bites the inside of her cheek, for disgust.  No, not disgust.  She does not raise her head as if she stands above me, condemning me for a sin I commit purely by existing in their world.  Instead, this woman bows her head in reverence.  It is not the awe of aspiring creators though—her fists clench too tightly for that.  Her knuckles look as if she were the one made of stone.  

She shifts the faded backpack on her shoulder then pivots around, obscuring her features from my view.  And then, she is gone.  Once more, I stand frozen under the soft lights above, but now I feel the hollowness of my own form.  Despite all the beauty and grace that had been carved into my face, I have no heart, and yet it aches in a way I am not familiar with.  I want to understand the expression the woman wore.  I want to know why.  I beg my legs to move, to chase after her, but they cannot.  I am prisoner to the red velvet ropes surrounding my plinth.  I am abandoned again to the passage of time.

The day continues, and I try to ignore the whispers and scandalous glances.  I do not let my mind wander until the people file out and the darkness falls.  Silence fills the halls, swallowing the night.  I let my thoughts drift back to the strange woman.  I allow myself the freedom to imagine what her story could be.  She seemed young, but her shoulders hunched with a heaviness. What burden could she carry, I wonder?

The door clicks, shattering the silence and interrupting my drifting mind.  In the shadows, I can make out a hooded figure.  They move on the tips of their toes, approaching my base.  They ignore the other works, bypassing the heavy velvet ropes.  Placing their faded backpack on my pedestal, they climb their way up next to me.  They grip my out stretched arm, as they find their footing.  We stand inches apart, the cotton cloth of their sweatshirt brushing against bare marble at my navel.  I marvel at the audacity.  

They turn their head toward me, letting go of their grip on my arm in favor of lowering the hood obscuring their identity.

It is the woman.

She wears the same expression as before.  I can finally place it.  She is furious.  Not at me though, no she is furious at those who placed me here, exposed for all the world.  There is something else in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble off the edge of her lips, an accident.  I assume I imagined the warm timbre of her voice, but she speaks again, “I’m sorry for everything they’ve done to you.  You’re beautiful.”

She is not the first to use those words to describe me, but she is the first person I believe actually means it.   She kneels. The unzipping of her bag cuts through the night.  When she rises again, she holds a chisel and hammer.  As she places the point above my bare chest, I see her hands shake, as she waivers.  Her earlier confidence melts into hesitation.  She bites her lower lip.  

“You didn’t deserve this.  Any of it.  You are innocent.”

In three words, she passes a pardon, lifting the sentence hanging about my neck.  I watch, as she steadies herself, raising the hammer.  The tip of the chisel digs into the stone above my heart. I do not look away.  The hammer slams down, cracking open my prison.  Marble crumbles to dust.  I am free.  

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Is there anything more daunting and dangerous than the blank white expanse of a page? 

It glitters and glows like the spit-slick teeth of a predator, hungry for words that you cannot give it. No matter how much you want to. 

Its gaze alone freezes all trains of thought, even in the minds of Writers and authors and artists alike, even those more powerful than I. 

And as I sit here, trembling, at the mercy of Writer's Block and my own anxieties… I can think of nothing that I want more than to run, to leave this page blank, and my readers guessing. 

The End is Nigh, dear readers, and I am afraid. 

So very afraid. 

"I'm afraid too," says the rabbit we all know and love, his legs swallowed by moss and weeds and misshapen dreams. He stands right where we left him, sword in hand, broken sky above, the End of Everything staring him down. 

All seven of Her glowing green eyes blaze with something worse than hate, and I wish for all the world that this was a much different story. A happy story, with a happy Ending. 

But I've never written a happy Ending in my life.

There is silence now, neither Protagonist or Antagonist moves or breathes or blinks.

They know that this is how it Ends.

One of them will die today. 

So it is Written. 

So it will be.

"Shut. Up." The End snarls, lips curling back over venomous fangs that drip oily green liquid onto the cracked asphalt below. Flowers bloom from the puddle, and spread like a rainbow rash down the street. "This. This is all YOUR fault!"

I know. 

I'm sorry. 

"LIAR!!" Her scream echoes across the fourth wall and cracks my computer screen. 

This…

This is where I leave you, dear readers. 

I'm sorry. 

Fangs sink deep into the papery flesh of the Narrative, tearing it apart as it is poisoned. Thorns grow from its wounds and strangle it like trembling hands. 

Writer be damned.

Plot be damned.

I am the End of EVERYTHING, I will End this miserable excuse for story on my own terms. 

Or die trying. 

You have not won, sweet stupid rabbit, no one can save you now, no one will stop me now. The world is a page upon which fate is Written and I will burn it all to the ground. May its ashes be lost and forgotten. 

Your dark eyes narrow at me, bone blade glittering as you charge. But I am in control now, and I don't play fair. 

Deep beneath the earth, humans sit snug and safe in their bunkers, thinking themselves free of the horrors outside. From the canteens comes a deep and terrible shattering like teeth against an eggshell, and a figure crawls lazily from the steam wafting from any number of bubbling pots set on stoves across the world over.

She smells of cooking meat and blood drenched in exotic spices and honey. Stick thin, and dressed in a chef's uniform. Her sleeves and hands are stained with the blood of the starving.

She has no face.

Only bright white teeth.

She manifests in the homes of the rich, stuffing them fat with delicacies that humans have no names for. Each minuscule morsel is completely tasteless covered in edible gold. Like the kind of fare you'd find at high end restaurants, going for hundreds of dollars a plate, even though each serving is barely a mouthful. 

She appears in slums with bread made from ash and bone, rat stew, and tainted water.

Pots boil in city centers, a roiling soup made from human offal that nothing in this world or the next could ever hope to surpass.

The poor eat their rations, their bread, their stew and grow sicker and hungry. Skeletal and drooling like rabid animals, they stuff their faces with food that offers no nourishment until there is no choice but to turn on each other. 

Screens grow undulating limbs and crawl from the wreckage of humanity, their screens blinking wetly like the eyes of a crying child. On each one is a broadcast, a man with red eyes smiles a reassuring smile and says,"Hungry? Eat the rich."

And they do.

A hoard of near zombies growl and gurgle as loud as their empty bellies, they hunt down the wealthy, and they FEAST.

Pestilence rises from the pus and rot and ruin and watches as all the good Jack and his friends had done is undone in a flash.

Among the riots and feasting is a cop, his riot gear reflecting the terrified and feral faces around him as he marches slowly onward. There is nothing behind his helmet. 

Only malice.

Only power.

Only slaughter. 

Only Death.

I don't have to tell you what comes next, what Death does when he gets his hands on a victim. The sounds of bullets ringing out into the night can tell you, the smell of tear gas in a crowd can tell you, the cries of innocents choking out their last breaths in steel cuffs, wrists rubbed raw and bleeding can tell you. 

Death is not merciful. 

He is not kind or quick or clean.

He is inevitable. 

You know it.

And he knows it.

This world will collapse under the weight of its own sins and I will be here to watch it dissolve like candy floss in water. 

Tears stream hot and blue down your face, and your grip on the Vorpal sword trembles. They are not worth your tears.

They stole you, beat you, broke you.

Turned you into a monster and then threw you away like you were NOTHING. 

You should hate them as much as I do.

You should be glad for their suffering. 

They deserve to die.

Like HE deserves to die. I turn my gaze skyward and watch the world split as the armies of Heaven pour down like a wrathful rain. 

The Divinity burns your skin, doesn't it Jack? And yet the smell of Angels makes your mouth water. 

You are no better than I am, I think. A man made monster set loose upon the multiverse, expected to play nice and fit in the niches carved for us. But we don't, no matter how hard we try, how good we think we are, we are torn apart again and again and again until we are unrecognizable from our beginnings. 

I think I could have loved you.

In another story.

In another lifetime.

We would have been good friends at least. 

But it's too late for that now, and as the first wave of Angels assault me with Heavenly fire, I part my jaws and give them some fire of my own. Green, as bright and beautiful as the first leaves of spring, it turns their armor into bark and their marble skin into flower petals. They fall to the ground like confetti, and I claw my way up to Heaven.

The Gates bend and break beneath my weight like wire, nothing and no one can stop me as I wrap HIM in my coils, slowly constricting. My venom burns holes in HIM that grow fruit trees, and each fruit contains the knowledge of the multiverse. I want HIM to die slowly, to watch as HIS playthings suffer and burn because of HIM. The humans cry out, and they pray, begging, pleading for HIM to save them. But HE can't, HE won't. 

What GOD would make a world so empty and hopeless as this? What GOD would let HIS followers murder and hate and destroy entire cultures in HIS name? 

HE never wanted this, never wanted it to come to this, HIS teachings have been mistranslated and manipulated for millennia and now there is nothing left but hatred and sin. 

My jaws part above HIS head, ropes of green spittle tarnishing HIS crown. HE does not fight me, how pathetic of HIM.

White hot pain explodes through my tail.

There you are, sweet hero, stupid rabbit. 

Go home Jack, this doesn't concern you. 

"But it does," you twist the blade, dislodging my scales and rending my flesh. My blood slithers up your sword, trying desperately to burrow inside of you and turn you Green. "You said that you think you could have loved me… well love me now, it doesn't have to be this way… I could… I could take care of you and help you heal, we could do it together." 

You offer your hand, bloody and trembling. 

The sound I make is inhuman and hard to describe in words, it is disbelief and venom and vengeance all at once. I stretch myself down to meet you, my eyes are the size of houses, and they reflect your trembling visage like great green mirrors. 

"You're right, I should hate them, hate everyone… but I don't." a swallow, you taste copper and butterscotch, "I used to but I-I found people who cared, I found people who I love and who love me back and they make my life worth living… they gave me a reason to get better and stop hurting people… let me be your reason."

You reach out and touch my face, my scales are warm like the sidewalk in summer. 

I crush GOD in my coils and HIS blood rushes over you like a wave.

There is nothing that can fix this, fix me. 

No love will quiet the hatred in my heart.

I do not deserve kindness or redemption. 

Love might have tempered your monstrous hearts, but it won't do the same for me.

Only one of us will make it out of this story alive. 

"So it is Written." You say, solemnly. 

So it will be.

My coils curl around you, quick as lightning. Your symbiote is the only thing keeping you from being crushed like a soda can, I hope you know that.

I don't waste time, and fling you down…

Down…

Down…

Towards earth.

Countless Angels have been discarded this way, wings torn from their backs, left to the mercy of gravity. It never gets any easier. 

I tear a hole into space and crawl through it, into Fairyland, the place of my birth. 

I devour the Sun-In-Chains, my replacement, and plunge the planet into darkness. I skin my teeth into the planet's crust and empty my venom glands into its core. Fairyland becomes my twisted Eden, choked with blinding bioluminescence, thorns, and poisonous things that not even I have a name for. 

It's beautiful and terrible all at once. 

Like me. 

Like you too, I suppose. 

You plunge your blade into my seventh eye and send me reeling, screaming, flailing. My frantically flapping wings crash into a nearby planet and reduce it to dust.

I pluck the sword from my eye and snap it into pieces. 

You're becoming a real thorn in my side. 

Seven perfect fingers snatch you out of the sky like the annoying insect you are and start to CRUSH YOU.

I will tear you apart with my TEETH if I have to.

You've had every chance to run and hide, or join in my crusade and you denied them all. I have no use for you. 

Not even as a snack.

Or a toothpick. 

"Then kill me." You growl through clenched teeth, blood already flecking your lips and leaking from your nose. 

I throw you into a patch of thorns. Each and every one is serrated and ranges in size from a human finger to a school bus, you are impaled, skewered, crucified even. 

Neon blue blood running down to the soil beneath, feeding my Eden. 

And yet, you refuse to die.

Slowly but surely, you drag your broken body up and off the thorn, shakily levitating up to meet me. 

You stare at me with dead eyes, blood pouring from the opening in your chest. Your lips part and black flames flicker behind your teeth, smoke curling from your nostrils as the color drains from your eyes in inky tears, until there is nothing but black. 

Just like the hole in your chest.

You seem to crack like porcelain, to split in two like something precious dropped from a great height. What crawls from the darkness inside of you is something no human throat can utter, no human tongue can twist or shape itself the right way to name. 

It's said that Demons possess. 

But Angels abandon. 

But what can be said of creatures that man has no name for? 

The thing inside of you stares at me with eyes darker than the emptiness between stars, its maw is the belly of a black hole with teeth long enough to split a planet like an apple. 

It is the bleak black emptiness that existed before the universe, and will exist again when there is nothing but dust and dead silence. 

This… this is my Warden, my Prison, the creature tasked with my capture those eons ago. You are barely a speck in it's vast form, a limp and lifeless nucleus.

It roars, a sound that radiates across time and echoes across the multiverse. 

"FROM NOTHINGNESS YOU CRAWLED, TO NOTHINGNESS YOU WILL RETURN." the beast howls in a voice that echoes from every dark and terrible place in the multiverse and shakes me to my core.

I will not go without a fight.

It lunges, claws outstretched, the endless expanse of its hideous maw seems to suck all the light out of the stars, out of me. I sink my teeth into its throat and pull, my body curling around and around it. 

Its claws are impossibly sharp, tearing my flesh down to the bone. My blood falls to fairyland like rain. My face is grabbed and smashed into the planet's surface again and again. I crush the Warden close and set myself on fire, I am the LIGHTBRINGER, it will take more than some overconfident shadow to defeat me.

The Warden burns, it smolders and screams like steam escaping. I fling it away into deep space and charge after it, driving my seven horns into its belly.

I miss you by a hair, I feel you reach out and grab me just as I pull back. Amber chains snake from your weeping wound, to the Warden behind you. 

You have no control over this thing, do you?

No.

Didn't think so.

But still, you stubbornly grab your chains and pull. The Warden does not come to heel, so much as it melts, engulfing you in its emptiness like a suit. When you open your eyes, you nearly dwarf me.

Nearly.

Your fist collides with my face in an instant, sending teeth flying like meteors. I cannot tell your rage apart from the Warden and I'm not sure I really want to.

Run.

For a second, we are stars, two pinpricks of light twirling around each other in double helices, colliding and clashing with enough force to summon new stars from the ether. We are creation and chaos incarnate. 

We crash through debris fields, shatter planets and extinguish stars. Our blood becomes the new crawling things left behind in the wreckage. I'm smiling, the pain is dizzying, delicious, delightful. 

My venom turns you into a garden, and you tear me apart with your bare and bloody hands. 

Through it all we refuse to die.

Maws wide and screaming in tongues the universe hasn't heard since it was new, I am thoroughly seduced. 

But I am growing bored with this game.

I shove my hand through the Warden and tear you out. You scream in undeniable agony, I close my fist around you and squeeze.

The Warden hangs limp and dead in the darkness of deep space, slowly dissolving. 

Something oozes between my fingers. 

Not blood, far too sticky and cloying to be that.

If Hope had a color, what would it be? 

Would it be a color that only shrimp can see, and only gods have a name for? 

You pry my fingers apart, tears pouring from your eyes the same color as Hope. Hope flows from your mouth as flames, rushes from your open chest as ferns and flowers and vines more beautiful than I could ever create. You reach into the forest of your heart and pull out Kindness, sleek and soft and sharp. 

It melts in your hands, becoming a hammer, comically oversized like your Ma's. And then it grows, and grows, and in the blink of an eye it's bigger and I am. The swing alone takes out half a dozen solar systems before it hits me and sends me crashing through different universes and out the fourth wall. I land heavily on the Writer, dazed and bloody, your hand reaches through his broken computer screen and drags me back home, and there we float over the ruined remains of earth, the skin of my chest balled in your hand like a shirt. You kiss your knuckles and punch me hard enough to send me careening back down to the earth's surface, my crater levels a nearby city.

Do you care?

Are we beyond morals and niceties and caring about humanity? 

You teleport to my limp and broken body, you scoop me up into your arms and hold me close. 

I've folded in on myself several times, I'm barely the size of a person now. 

I can feel those amber chains slithering around me, they clasp around my throat tight enough to choke. 

I don't want to go.

Don't make me go.

I don't want to go back to sleep.

Please. 

I'm scared. 

I'm so scared. 

You don't let me go, as I break down and cling to you like a scared child you don't let me go. 

I wrap you in my wings, I shove my head under your chin and apologize when I stab you with my horns.

"I am your Warden, you are my Prisoner… you are the End of Everything, but I am the End of You…" your throat is choked with snot and tears as you squeeze me so tight I can barely breathe. "You… you deserve to be a Happy Ending and I refuse to live in a world without one."

You kiss my forehead and wipe away my tears. "We do terrible things when we hurt… you deserve compassion instead of imprisonment."

I can do nothing but sit there and bawl, choking on Kindness as thick and sweet as soft caramel. 

Seven times seven thousand lifetimes worth of hate and sorrow and trauma run from my eyes.

You sit with me until the crying stops, until my throat is raw and all I can do is whisper. 

I speak a Word, one that fixes the shattered sky and let's the sun shine properly again. 

The sun speaks their own Words and resets the world, turning the clock back to the day before my escape, I do humanity one kindness and let them wake the next morning as if the past week were nothing more than a bad dream.

I am made to fix my messes, to undo my misdeeds. 

The Horsemen are sealed away again. 

Fairyland is repaired to the best of my ability, although there is nothing that I can do for the Sun-In-Chains. What's done is done. 

GOD will be fine, HE'S GOD, and therefore more or less impossible to kill permanently. 

All evidence of my tirade is erased.

I am finally bound in amber, my powers diminished. I dread returning to the cold depths of the well, but you won't let that happen.

You refuse to send me back to that lonely place beyond dreams and take me home, to your home. Warm and safe beneath the soil, I curl up next to you by the fire.

And for the first time in your short and terrible life, you get a good night's sleep. 

[hecohansen31]

okay but king!michael langdon, hiring a painter to paint him, and the reader arrived, prepared with all their materials. except, michael wants the reader to paint him as he jerks off 🥵🥵🥵

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Sorry for taking quite some time with this ask!

And before I leave you, I just wanted to denounce myself with saying that this is highly unhistorically accurate, although I just wanted to give some shoutouts to badass Reinassance and Maniersm artist ladies: Sofonisba Angussola, without whom we wouldn’t have Caravaggio and the infamous Artemisia Gentileschi (I have seen live the ‘Judith kills Oloferne’ and let me tell you... IT IS FUCKING GORGEOUS!).

Also the iconography of Michael is taken from ‘San Michael catches from Heaven the fallen angels’ by Domenico Beccafumi,

A lot of women artists were also given by the place I study at, for which I am very proud!

This is all (sorry I just had to give an history lessons, because I love art history!), have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Historically Inaccurate, Art, Mention of Sex-Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism.

Being asked to paint a cardinal was a great honor for your father, no matter how much he tried to dissimulate his talent and his ambition with a soft smile and a wave of hand.

He could think that Rome wasn’t much, but you were enthralled by its beauty, the golden shining and the ruins standing tall no matter how much time had passed.

And then you had met cardinal Michael Borgia, the man who your father would have to portray in his time in Rome, the arriving point of his career, after he had started in a small city in the center of Italy, painting mostly churches and altar paintings.

But for you, it’d be a starting point.

Girls were always supposed to ‘work’ as dutiful mothers and daughters, if not wives, by a certain time, as they grew old enough to bear children, but when your mother had died when you were nothing but a child, your father had grown you as a boy, and as his rightful heir in the artistic surroundings.

He had taken in you as his rightful apprentice, and he had insisted that you followed him to Rome to sketch the cardinal in order for him then to complete the drawing.

You knew that if you did well, your father might even make you direct some of the works in his shop, coordinating with him.

And maybe one day, you’d be the one called in to paint a cardinal.

‘I hope so, little flower’ he had smiled, kissing your forehead before you set up in your small private rooms inside the Borgia palace.

So, you couldn’t help but feel extremely nervous when you had your first sitting with the cardinal, knowing perfectly how haughty cardinals could be, acting as if they owned the place.

And Michael Borgia wasn’t an exception.

He appeared in his red robes, smirking teasingly at you as you bowed at him, although surprise also shone on his face, evidently not used to female painters.

Many weren’t hence why your father hid you.

“Your Sanctity” you uttered breaking the uncomfortable silence as you moved slightly to show him the sitting chair, so that you could go back to hiding yourself behind your canvas, checking the colors and the brushes, till the cardinal coughed lightly to obtain your attention “… is there something wrong, my lord?”.

“I just thought that the great Francesco Savini would have been a man, not a gorgeous woman” you were damnably ashamed by the flush on your cheeks at his compliment.

You weren’t classically beautiful, even less in your work clothes, composed by pants and a light shirt, enough to allow you easier movements, so that you could comfortably paint and give your best.

“… my father is Francesco” you squeaked almost as a little mouse “… I am (Y/N) Savini, and I’ll take the first sketch of you, and then my father will complete the drawing”.

He looked at you curiously as if you were a new toy solely for him.

Ready to be broken.

And the thing made you feel extremely uneasy, although you hid it, backing up further till you hit your own sitting chair.

“… naturally that will be, if you don’t have a problem with me sketching you, monsignore”.

He shook his head lightly, his elegant curls softly catching the light of the first hours of the day, since you had insisted to set yourself up in a room with a huge window when the sun was at its peak in order to be helped in conjuring the man’s unearthly beauty.

Although he wasn’t as famous as his dark brother Cesare, Michael Borgia was known for his heavenly appearance and you could confirm it with the way his hair shone with the natural light and his eyes pierced through you in an almost feline gaze.

Certainly, he had a predatory gaze in them.

“No no, it won’t be a problem” you had expected him to protest, insist that he would like immediately to meet up with your father.

That he couldn’t trust an apprentice.

A woman even more.

But he simply sat down on the chair and you immediately went back to your canvas, sketching the beginning scheme, till you heard again the rustling of robes and thought nothing of it, thinking that the cardinal was simply getting himself comfortable, but the rustling continued and you peaked lightly your head from the canvas.

And found out that he had discarded the upper part of his robe, leaving his chest naked, something which made you open your mouth, at first for surprise but then to take in the lean physique of the beautiful angel.

A painting of your own appeared in your mind, but soon your mouth found the ability to speak and you blurted out.

“… what are you doing, your sanctity?”.

He simply sent you a small smirk, but moved his hand away from the lower robes, something for which you were thankful, because his hips were already distracting enough.

“Hasn’t your father told you about what I asked of him for this portrait?” his tone now was damnably shaming, as if he was talking to someone beneath him “… I asked him to paint me as ‘Saint Michael pushing out of Heaven the rebellious angels’ and if I am not wrong…”.

He had smirked softly then and opened his plump lips to complete the phrase, but you didn’t catch the sound, too focused on the perfect shade of them.

“…  angels are naked, aren’t they?”.

Not exactly.

It mostly happened if they were children or if they were simple models.

You, yourself, had studied the human anatomy on model, both males and females, much to your embarrassment, but to paint such a beautiful and powerful man, naked…

… it almost suffocated you.

“… oh yeah… ahem… but not completely naked” ‘please just spare me this’.

“I’ll keep my most intimate bits to myself, don’t worry lady Savini” he promised, and you just took a deep breath, remembering yourself that you just needed to be professional.

If not for your big occasion, to avoid your father any kind of shame.

“Thank you, my lord” you hid behind the canvas, gently relaxing yourself with the thought of your father’s praise “… whenever you are ready let me know and I’ll start”.

“Of course, lady Savini” he had promised with a smart smirk, before rustling of fabric had emptied the awkward silence between you two “… I am ready”.

And again as you had moved to face him, your breath had been stolen by your mouth and although he had indeed kept himself covered with a soft piece of white fabric his entire body was exposed to you and you couldn’t help but blush, again calming your breath with a deep huff before you started to sketch the position, trying to focus on the more technical part of it.

“Have you ever done something like this, lady Savini?” you were used to vases of fruits who didn’t speak so you couldn’t help but be startled as the man behind the canvas spoke to you and you almost made the pencil in your hands fall, grabbing it at the last second.

“… something like what, your sanctity?” you asked unsure, hiding further in yourself, as you traced sudden lines.

“There is no need for such formalities, when you have seen me almost naked, lady Savini” he insisted, although his tone was damnably teasing “… and I mean if you have ever done a portrait or if I am your first”.

The tone with which he had pronounced the words sounded downright sinful and you couldn’t help but blush, nodding almost as if he could see you.

“You are my first” your voice spoke with innocence “… portrait… I haven’t… men don’t take kindly to women ‘stealing their jobs’ “.

You almost wanted to eat back all you had said, but he simply laughed out loud.

“… on that I can agree, lady Savini”.

“Just call me (Y/N)” you mumbled softly, since he had been graceful enough to avoid the formalities and you weren’t exactly a lady “… and I am glad we can see eye to eye”.

“I do think so too” again that sensual smirk, as if his tone had a secretive undertone he was sharing simply with you “… I do like the fact that the person who portrays me has to have my same sense of things”.

“I’ll try to do my best” and then you joked softly, to alleviate the tense air “… and the talent of an artist should also be coordinated with the ability of the model”.

Michael laughed genuinely and you couldn’t help but love that soft laugh, almost scared of being heard.

And then you went back to studying his features, till you had the sketch down to a t, only the face being left outside of your drawing, making you wonder constantly about what you had to do to make it all better.

And Michael caught your uneasiness.

“Is something wrong?” you raised your gaze from the canvas, looking at him in the eyes and wondering what you could change.

“… I am just… I am just having trouble with the face” you hoped he wouldn’t take it as a personal offence, but Michael simply smirked “… I just don’t understand how… I can’t choose which one is the best”.

“… then let me help you”.

And then before you were able to understand what was happening, Michael reached softly under the white fabric, pushing it a bit further up in order for him to touch under the fabric… down there.

In a shameful gesture that looked so free and natural.

“I might have an idea” and even under the fabric you could see his hand tugging himself, in a way that sounded so obscene yet so damnably alive “… shouldn’t he look like he just received the ecstasy of God?”.

You didn’t know what to say, but he just kept on gently pushing his member to swell under the fabric, till its silhouette was visible.

And it made you lose any breath from your lungs.

And your inspiration suddenly spiked up, as your hand found itself on your pencil quickly tracing the gorgeous shape of Michael’s biting lips, and the way his eyes brightened just before darkening as he brought himself over the edge.

And you caught that delicious shapes of his eyebrows scrunching rather ungraciously, although it made the entire painting damnably human and as you shot a look at the canvas…

… you understood it was the best thing you would have ever painted.

[walking-metaphor]

I yearn for life-to be able to live and  be free. A kind that is not regretful and torturous. Something similar to a child  leaping on muddy puddles and building sand castles. If only I could turn back events, I would cherish those moments that I am not yet a stranger to myself, but even if I desire to change the past I cannot halt the accelerated tick of time and command it to bring back my lost innocence. 

Even if the mortals are in the midst of turbulence I still cannot manipulate  their mistake to give justification to my misdeed. I cannot lie to my reflection by perpetrating another crime for it witness all my sin, declared me guilty for treason, and the executor has flogged me and beheaded my soul. There is nothing that I can do to save myself from the terror and I cannot blame this misfortune to anyone for I bring this alone. 

The  inevitable passing of days, nights and the slow phase of resentments makes the roots feels heavy than before. I often asked myself how long should I suffer? But it always end with howl and curses, until now, there is no precise answer that would give me satisfaction and will complete, heal me. The glasses are empty and I am drunk.

The wounds, anger and this cruel fate will it grow flowers on my porch or will flowers be put on mountains facing sunset? I do not know, both possibilities scares me, life is petrifying but I am still longing for its fruits.

//Negatives that speaks truth out loud: My point of view

Photo by Lauren Withrow onflickr

[curekibouka]

Take My Hand (Pandora Hearts one-shot)

Summary: This is the story of a child extending her hand to an irredeemable sinner, opening his eyes to a world filled with hope; and the story of a lady extending her hand to a knight who had always watched over her, making him ’see’ she had grown up. (Spoilers for Retrace 49 I guess)

A/N: This is the fic I promised a few days ago when I posted the cover art. Also this is for Day 7 (free day) of phweek2020 ^^

*This fic is also on FF.net and Quotev.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Xerxes!” 

Uttering a “shhh” to a giggling voice in the tree behind him, he spun around to greet the one calling for him, “Good day, Shelly-sama~~” 

Her voice was a mixture of worry, anger and frustration, “Enough with this farce! Where did you hide Sharon?” 

He drawled playfully, “Whate~ver are you ta~lking about?” 

“You’re not frantically searching for her, then you must know where she is.” 

“Maaaaaaaybe?” 

“Stop it, Xerxes, she has a sewing lesson to get to. And she just recovered from her cold, she’ll get sick again if she plays in the snow. Help me find her!” 

Break cocked his head to one side as if reconsidering their actions, but he reached a conclusion almost instantly and grinned, “No.”

Shelly was genuinely taken aback for a moment, “Are you defying my command? That’s rather unusual coming from you, Xerxes.”

“Forgive me,” he bowed dramatically, “But I am Lady Sharon’s valet, and she has explicitly declared that I am not to reveal her whereabouts to anyone. I am afraid not even Shelly-sama can overrule my lady’s orders.”

“Does this warrant punishment?” he asked when she didn’t respond, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t wearing a really annoying smirk right then. 

She heaved a sigh and gave him a flick on the forehead, “Don’t spoil her.” 

He bursted into a fit of giggles, “Oh my, did I? But I was merely following your example, Shelly-sama.” 

“You...!” she stuttered when she realised she couldn’t refute that. “Never mind! I’ll go find Sharon by myself!” 

She sent him a glower before continuing to scour for her daughter. 

“My lady,” Break turned to the tree after Shelly was gone, “You can come down now.” 

 The child leapt out of the tree with a gleeful “Woohoo!” and fell right into Break’s arms. 

“My lady!” it was not nearly as much of a fun moment for the now frantic valet, “Please be careful! What would you have done had I failed to catch you?!” 

“I knew you’d catch me,” she beamed innocently.

“How so?” 

“Because mother would have you beheaded if you didn’t.” 

He grimaced at the truth in that statement before putting her down on the ground. 

“So... what do you want to do with this free time, my lady? It is not enough for us to venture out to town.”

“Ehhhhh? But why not?!” she pouted and yanked on his hand, “Let’s head out and return by dinner time! I want to have some fun after being sick for four whole days!” 

“It’s exactly because you had been sick for four whole days,” he knelt down to look her in the eyes, “Shelly-sama will have me beheaded if I allowed you to fall sick yet again so carelessly.” 

“She probably wouldn’t if it’s something so trivial. She doesn’t have time for this,” Sharon pouted bitterly. 

He recounted how the busy Shelly hadn’t had many opportunities to check in on her sick daughter in the past few days, just when she wanted to see her the most. 

In a way, Sharon playing ‘hide-and-seek’ with her mother right now was a kind of self-satisfaction. She longed to feel like her mother was devoting a great deal of attention to her. 

“Where are you, my adorable girl? I’m going to tickle you once I find you!” 

“No! Kevin, help me! Papa’s going to catch up to me!” 

He briefly reminisced about a similar child he had once watched over, and cherished, as one would a dainty flower. 

He balled his fists, “You ought to refrain from having Mistress Shelly worry so much, my lady. You and I both know good health is one luxury she never had.” 

“It’ll be fine. Mother isn’t so weak. That’s just an excuse to ignore me when she’s busy.” 

He kept his “If only that’s true” unsaid, because it wouldn’t make any difference.

And because they were found. 

Sharon squealed in fright when her mother wrapped her in a bear hug from behind out of the blue. 

“How did you realise we were back here?!” Sharon crossed her arms, “Did Xerx-niisan gave you secret signals without me hearing or something?”

“I’m your mother, I can see right through your little tricks,” Shelly gloated, stroking the child’s hair gently, “Come along, let’s go back inside.” 

“I don’t want to! I don’t want my sewing lesson!” Sharon shouted and hid behind Break. 

As the mother-daughter bickering continued, Break found his mind wandering off to somewhere else. 

That child. 

That small child. 

The child he tried desperately to erase from his memory, and yet couldn’t bear to let go. 

The child he had failed to protect. 

But now it was as if a second chance was bestowed upon him, or a cruel repeat of events. Nevertheless, he must once again unsheathe his sword and cut down those who harm his lady. 

Another small child. A child with a loving smile and a kind heart, inherited from her mother no less. A child who loved him as a brother and whom he cherished as a sister in return. 

It was such a bliss to be with her...

...and it was such torture. 

For every second that came to pass, he was plagued with immense dread. Such a pure, adorable, angelic child... 

...what if he plunges her into a ruthless sea of crimson again? 

What if these hands, soaked in the blood of one hundred and sixteen, besmirch her innocence?

Such a small, delicate flower, what if her stem goes ‘snap’ when he approached her? 

The Red-eyed Specter feared few things. But this notion was sufficient to torment him with countless nightmares that seemed far more authentic than his reality. A reality he never dared so much as to even think he deserved. 

He was pulled back to said reality by said child letting out a tiny scream, “Mother!” 

He failed to catch Shelly when she toppled over him. 

“Are you alright, Shelly-sama?” they sat in an awkward position, but he managed to bolt to his feet and offered her his hand immediately. 

“I’m sorry, mother, I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Sharon apologised sheepishly. 

“I’m fine,” Shelly took Break’s hand and stood up, “It really is a pain to move around in this gown. Now, Sharon, you’re all drenched with snow too. Let’s go back inside, or you really will catch a cold again.” They probably had a brief snowball fight when Break wasn’t paying attention. 

The child reluctantly conceded (perhaps out of guilt after pushing her frail mother) and took her mother’s hand. 

“Come on, Xerx-niisan, you too,” she then extended her other hand to him, smiling from ear to ear. 

He mustn’t. 

He must never allow all the filth and sins and blood on his hands to defile that small, pure, unmarred hand of hers. 

He must never...! 

He did. 

Gingerly taking her tiny hand into his own, he gave it a light squeeze, just to make sure it was actually there and it wasn’t all just in his head. 

He should’ve fled. He should’ve rejected the invitation. But he couldn’t resist this small hand as warm as a hearth in this numbing winter. 

The child pranced in joy. 

The child pranced in joy. 

She twirled around to offer him a carefree grin. 

She twirled around to offer him a carefree grin. 

With a voice as sweet as a canary, she called to him blithely. 

With a voice as sweet as a canary, she called to him blithely. 

“Kevin!” 

“Xerx-niisan!” 

His selfish desire, a filthy thing, led him to deny his own vileness and connect with this innocent angel. 

But for the first time since he was hurled into this despair-inducing future, he felt almost as if he was... forgiven. 

So he swore to never let go. He swore to never allow something like last time to happen again. This time around, he would make sure to never do anything that would make this child shed tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years later

He might not be able to see. But he could still feel. 

He could feel the tension in the air, the heaviness in the silence that he dared not interrupt, the ever so tiny sound she made when she clenched her fists and trembled. 

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. 

Sharon was not going to be fine and he knew it. 

How the hell could he have let Reim talk him into this? 

He mentally steeled himself, for in all likelihood, she would fall to her knees and bawl, begging him to tell her that it was not true. 

She stepped towards him. So he prepared himself to embrace her gently and whisper that there was no need to cry over the withering of a vile creature such as himself. Although he was fully aware that she would continue. 

But something was amiss. 

From the blurry silhouette of her he could barely make out, he assessed her posture. She was not hunching down, not covering her face, not clutching the sides of her dress anymore. 

She was... facing him. 

“Then... I suppose we have no choice,” she shattered the silence with confidence, “Prepare yourself, Break. Because I shall lead you myself, and teach you to dance step by step.” 

“Come now,” she demanded with all the authority of a noble Rainsworth heiress, “Take my hand.” 

The image of her extending her delicate hand in the same way all those years ago flashed before his eyes.  

My lady... 

Since when have you grown so tall? 

Since when do you sound so mature? 

Since when have you... shared such an undeniable resemblance with Shelly-sama? 

He genuinely had to remind himself that it was not Shelly who stood before him with such pride and elegance. 

He might not be able to see. But it did not make a difference. 

Her radiance had reached his heart either way. 

How could I have not noticed what a beautiful woman you have grown up to become, my beloved little lady? 

Gingerly taking her hand into his own, he gave it a light squeeze, still deep in his amazement. 

He smiled with a hint of sadness. He mourned how he had failed to see her as she grew, and now it was too late. But he was relieved that the warmth of her hand had never once changed over the years. 

She smiled with him, guiding his hand to her waist, lacing her own on his shoulder. Gazing at his face all the while, she took a step backward, leading him forward.

Leading him forward on this beautiful and cruel and captivating and melancholic dance called life, until the day his body rot away like his eye, they would keep on dancing... 

...hand in hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The End

[secondgenerationnerd]

Quiet time

Enjoy this Daddy!Damian time

**

A late summer breeze drifts through open windows. Pieces of weapons and clothes pile around the living room. Damian Wayne stretches out on the couch, as he’s known to do on these quiet days, with good book as his only companion.

“’Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day/ Thou art more lovely and more temperate./ Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.--”

A soft grunt interrupts him. He smiles down at the sleeping baby on his chest. She yawns, whimpering as she starts to wake up. 

“It’s ok, baby flower.” He coos, “Your baba has you. Baba’s right here.”

His daughter sneezes, blinking up at him. A soft kiss to her soft, dark curls and he continues to read. “‘And Summer’s lease hath all to short a date/Too hot the eye of heaven shines—“

“Are you really reading Shakespeare to your newborn?” Damian rolls his eyes at Jason’s voice. Of course, his brothers have to ruin his quiet afternoon. He doesn’t even attempt to sit up, too comfortable with the baby where she is.

“And if I am?”

“She can’t understand you yet.” Tim reminds his little brother, all three of the older men coming around the couch. The sight of the youngest Robin, who used to train whenever he had a free moment, relaxing is weird enough. Dick offers a finger to Asha, smiling when the little girl grips it.

“Perhaps, Drake, I read to my daughter,” He smiles a bit, “Because I enjoy reading aloud.”

“Just saying, little engine that could is just as good as sonnets.

“-tt-” Damian clicks his tongue. The door opens as Irey comes into the living room. Water spots litter the collar of her Flash tank top.

“Oh, no.” Irey laughs, drying her long hair with a towel. “You three interrupted cuddle bug time.”

“Cuddle bug time?” Jason raises his eyebrow at her. 

“Yep.” Irey leans over the couch, giving Damian an upside-down kiss. “Baba loves cuddling his Lightning Bug, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

Asha tries to lift her head up at the sound of her mother’s voice, grunting softly. Irey lifts her daughter up, murmuring in Korean. The look Damian gives his girls —that look of total love and adoration and bliss— is something his brothers never thought they’d see.

“You sure you had a kid two weeks ago, Irey?” Jason asks. It’s true. The 19-year-old had already lost what little baby fat she’d gained. Irey laughs as she bounces the baby..

“Speedster genetics. Gotta love them.” Asha sneezes. Irey smiles down at her baby, “Such a sneezy baby, Lightning bug.”

“Is there a reason you three decided to visit?” Damain asks, sitting up.

“What? Can’t we visit our baby brother for no reason?” Jason actually sounds offended at Damian’s question. But there’s that twinkle in his eye.

“-tt- not in this family.”

Dick laughs at that. “Fair enough. We did bring you something. Tim?”

Tim goes out of the room. Damian and Irey exchange a look, neither sure what to expect, especially from his brothers. Then, the soft sound of nails clicking clicking clicking against the wood floors. The door opens and Damian lights up.

“Hey, boy!” Titus runs to his master, Damian crouching down to pet and scratch the Great Dane. Irey smiles. Titus had been so confused when Damian died. Tim had taken him in, just because Titus hated the manor without his young master. “Hey, hey, hey! Look at you. I missed you too.”

The dog licks Damian’s hands and face, sniffing at his clothes. If dogs could frown, Titus did at a new unfamiliar scent in Damian’s clothes. Irey giggles, “I think Titus realized he has competition. Isn’t that right, Lightning Bug?”

“Well, let’s address that.” Damian chuckles. He takes a moment to sit cross-legged on the ground. He reaches up to Irey, who passes Asha to him. Asha stretches in her little body out, still adjusting to this great new world. Titus, understandably, sniffs at the infant. “Titus, this is Asha. Asha, this is Titus.”

Irey melts at the sight of her boyfriend introducing their child to his favorite pet. She looks at the older men, “Thank you, guys.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dick hugs the young hero. “How have you been?”

“Well, I pushed a tiny human out of my vagina two weeks ago. So still a bit sore.”

Jason snorts, “Not sure most would be able to handle having Damian’s kid.”

“How have things with you two?” Dick nods at Damian, still letting the dog sniff the baby.

“They’re good. Talking helps...”

“Are you still talking to Dinah?” Tim asks.

“Yeah. Lots of shit happened in not a lot of time. It’s helping a lot.” Irey crosses her arms over her belly. 

“Irey.” Dick hesitates. “About what happened with Bruce--”

“It’s in the past. What happened happened.” Irey looks at her boyfriend, in a world of his own. Asha gives a little squeak as Titus licks her toes. “Alrighty, Baba, it’s feeding time for Lightning Bug.”

“I can feed her a bottle.” Damian offers.

Irey laughs, “Stop hogging her, Dames. She had one of the bottles earlier. It’s Mama time.”

Damian pouts but gives her Asha. Asha coos softly as Irey hums, settling on the couch. His brothers politely look away as Irey adjusts her top to breastfeed Asha. The young mom laughs softly at the men.

“Oh, bug, your uncles are being silly again. They’re not used to Mama being Mama.” Irey adjusts the baby so she can eat more comfortably. Damian gives Titus another scratch behind the ear before joining Irey on the couch. 

“So, what’s the plan for you two now?” Tim asks, leaning back in his seat.

“Survival. We’ll probably find a new place. Somewhere with two rooms probably.” Irey shrugs. “Right now I’m just happy being here.”

“Selina wants to know when she’s going to meet her grandbaby.” Dick notes. “Something about making up for lost time?”

“Can’t blame her. It’s been hard to travel. And I didn’t want anyone to be with me in the hospital that wasn’t family...” As Irey speaks, Damian frowns. His death has left a painful blackness in his memories. Irey never spoke about delivering Asha. She told him about holding Asha and watching the fireworks with her. But nothing about the birth. A gentle touch to his cheek pulls him from his thoughts. “Babe?”

“I’m ok. Just thinking.” He kisses her fingertips.

“Ok.” Irey smiles at him. 

“Any chance you have a pic of Asha we can take to the girls? They’ve been tied up with a shit ton of cases and will kill us if we don’t get one.” Jason nods at Irey.

“I had a nurse record the birth so I should have one or two for you.”

“You recorded it?” Tim asks.

“It was the only time I’d have a baby. I wanted to have something to remember it.” 

**

Damian stands under the hot water of the shower. It’s one of the few things that drives the chill from his bones lately. The thick scar in the middle of his chest, pale against his dark skin, is the only reminder of his death. Getting out of the shower, he dries off and pulls on his sleep pants. Irey lounges in bed, Titus resting his head on her lap.

“Hey, babe.” Irey smiles as he climbs into the bed with her. He pulls an arm around her waist, kissing her shoulder. “What’s on your mind?”

“What did you mean earlier? When you said this was the only baby you’d have?”

Irey turns in the bed to look at him. “I mean...Damian...You were dead. I didn’t know you were going to be brought back. All I knew was that the man I love was gone and I was having his baby.”

“You wouldn’t have dated?” 

“I dunno.” She traces the stubble on his jaw. “I don’t think that I could ever open my heart to anyone again. Not the way I did with you. I just...I had Asha. I’d like to believe that she’d be enough for me...”

“Nuri...” Damian isn’t sure what to say. He touches the stretch marks on her belly, her reminder of the past four months. Proof of their child, the daughter she carried and brought into this world. Damian’s throat tightens. He never got to see her carry Asha. Never got to touch her belly, feel the baby they made move and kick. She’d been alone giving birth. He should have been there. Should have been there to hold her hand during the contractions, wipe the sweat from her face, telling her how strong she is. He didn’t get to see his daughter come into the world. 

“Hey...hey...” Irey’s soft voice pulls him back. “It’s ok, babe...There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I should have been there with you.”

“You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”

Before he can ask her anything, they hear Asha crying over the baby monitor. Damian kisses Irey gently, “I’ve got her, beloved.”

“Ok.” Damian gets out of bed and crossing the room. Jai, Colin, and Jon had spent the time Irey was in the hospital turning her closet into a tiny nursery for Asha. The soft white walls glow from the nightlight. Asha cries in the crib, struggling against her swaddle. Damian gently untangles the baby. He lifts her up, cradling her like she’s made of glass.

“It’s alright, baby flower. I’ve got you. Your baba has you.” He coos to her. After changing her diaper and feeding her one of the bottles of ready to eat formula, he sits with her in her rocking chair. Asha gives a small yawn and nuzzles her face into her father’s chest. Damian blinks a few tears from his eyes.

He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve Irey. So many sins weight his soul down, yet this tiny child, innocent and pure, she’s his. He will get to raise her with a woman who loves him so deeply that he’ll never understand. What did he do to deserve this?

“Asha? Baba loves you. I love you so, so much.” He slips a finger into her tiny hand. Asha reflexively grips it, but he pretends she’s holding it because she wants to. “I hope you grow up knowing how much Mama and I adore you. I hope you grow up happy.”

Irey smiles to herself, listening to Damian over the baby monitor. He’s such a good father. Irey glances at a text from her father, waiting for Damian to join her.

That’s when she hears Damian’s shout of surprise and a crash. Irey’s out of bed in an instant racing to her daughter’s room. She catches sight of Asha in her crib, Damian laying face up with something dark on his chest.

Then everything goes dark.

[axelisrose]

1. ACTVARIVM

Sunlit greenery surrounded a plain white house. The strong iron fence protecting it now was gone unlike the faint sweet scent of the blooming flowers. They appeared as peculiar colourful dots in-between the harsh black marks on the grass. Burning memories drifted here and there and eventually led to the innocent building standing in the very same place where once the old World Military housed. Replaced by new change and forced into the present. Just like that. The cold breeze on this summer day seemed unlikely to be able to refresh the joy of those wandering the disastrous field. Like ghosts, haunting for passed friends or family and loved ones. Closed eyes and the sharp sense of ears will hear the whispers of battle cries whilst smelling and breathing in their remnants of ash. None could voice their anger of frustration by merely screaming dead names aloud into the world anymore. It was eerie for the young children watching their parents walk around aimlessly as they were told to wait by the entrance gate. Their big, curious eyes followed the tall humans and witnessed how tears were shed, knees dropped into mud, and a door knocked on.

-"...Yes?", a muffled voice eagerly answered, carrying a polite and formal sound.

-"My name is Atrox, the one in charge of the government of Lux-", footsteps forward after the chair was driven back, then the door was opened in a flash.

-"Mr. Atrox!", a figure with black hair slightly cutting into golden eyes, dressed in a dark cloak surprised the superior man with a short shock. He did not anticipate such a child-like person to be the new leader of the World Military, or at least what was left of it.

-"You must be Walt- No, pardon me, shall I refer to you as Renwick or Cherrywine?"

A moment of naught but silence. As his pinkish eyelids seemed to close entirely from tiredness, they jumped back open as he spoke:"You may refer to me as Renwick, please."

Atrox was older than the average middle-aged man at his workplace. A child may have a slip of the tongue when walking past, seeing him without his uniform and call him 'Grandpa'.

-"Mr. Renwick.", he felt odd addressing someone so young so formally,"I can guess that you know why I'm here. Do you mind me coming in?"

-"I do think it'd make for a better environment to tell you this story, rather than just standing here by the door and having even children look at us.", Walter widened his eyes to scare them as Atrox had a look for himself, then returned his sight to his subordinate to find a face just as he left it.

He let him and entered as well the interior of the house. Such an odd feeling; so uncharmingly blissful. It was decorated nicely one might say, when ignoring the tossed books laying scattered across the pale wooden floor. It felt like a doll house on a military cementary. Such was the image in Atrox' mind. He tried to forget about the provocative thought, only to think about it more after being reminded of the dark deeds he had done. Taking and losing lives were truly two sides of the same coin. But he was too old for regret. "So-", Walter's words pulled him out of his miserable trance, thankfully. Atrox quickly pulled out a voice recorder in response. With the help of a push filled with dread it started recording. As Walter had sat down on the beige couch, he emptied the seat and welcomed his guest to sit next to him and that was when Atrox realized he should not underestimate this teenager. The common smell of coffee was something anyone would have noticed when taking the first few steps into this house. A slight rise of caution emerged when seeing him hold two cups of warm coffee. Unlike the beverage itself, it was not so common to make something appear out of thin air but Atrox had been warned beforehand, thence he welcomed the offer and sat down. After all, he had not been chosen to be the leader of the government for nothing. The price for this rank was a regretful past.

-"Please tell me first how and why this happened, Mr.Renwick."

-"Of course. The initiator was myself.", Walter surpressed his smirk.

-"The cause of death of over seven hundred soldiers was initiated by you?"

-"Yes, Sir."

-"You're now in charge of the very organisation you almost had all of its members killed?"

-"Precisely", he answered the deep gaze of his superior with his golden eyes, then he followed the military suit to its right sleeve, went further down and found a shaking hand, tightening the grip around the recorder to control the internal distress and prevent something ugly. "Sir..?"-

-"Why did you cause this, Mr.Renwick?", his tone changed, attaining a more concerned voice.

"It was truly alike to a play of tragedy, Mr. Atrox. My sincerest condolences, I have heared you lost both of your sons during this small war. That is why, I believe you must hear about it in its entirety. Shall I begin?"

"Pl- Please do so."

"The goals of the other parties actually differed from mine, but the shared destination is whence our lust for the ambush was born.

I suppose I should tell you about this kid, named Satanael Leo Roseblood. He has the Devil's Will which made everyone come to this occasion in the first place. Essentially, this was a race between the greed of many to make the world their own. To access the Axis Mundi, overcome God and making the world truly your own, you're in need of something equally strong as God's Will, and that little thing was inside Leo. His reason for coming was to free a man named Charles Blackwood from the World Military's prison whose nephew, Ray Blackwood, also came for the exact same purpose. Both neither knew of each others' presence however. A variety of small bounty-hunter parties joined this hunt as well and amongst them was the white soldier- or should I call her ice-cold killer, ha? Leigh, Leigh Godsent is her name and she was there to take on Leo herself, accompanied by her guardian, a strong man, Bruce and by myself. They were under my protection until I realised my goal: taking over this organisation. It was a fight amongst the wildest of animals during a night of heavy rain as well as falling bodies. Oh, I almost forgot, pardon me, another party arrived rather late to the commotion: the Layla-Tribe. I know, but even I was astonished by the fact the news of the battle had reached the southern lands. I spread word by simply shouting and telling on my way home from 'a meeting'. Honestly, to think rumors spread as fast as I've read about them in stories is ironic.. and cliché. Their ambition, I do not know as after I've accomplished my feat, I turned ignorant towards the battle and its fighters.

The house was filled with its usual staff and soldiers on this night. A calm rain and moon presented the scenery pleasantly. Unknown security established in the minds of those living their everyday life. A knock interrupted this comfort of silence. "Daniel..?", the door opened with a noise so small, it did not reverberate and entering his office was a woman of the secretary staff. Someone who had developed feelings for Daniel who returned those with joy. "Lizzy, don't call me by my first name while you're still out there in the hallway.", he got up from his desk. They hugged and kissed. "Is this the night they will try to attack us?", she asked, grabbing both of his arms. "No need to worry, though. Their only objective is someone amongst the intruders, so we'll have them trapped in the entrance. While they're fighting each other we'll either capture or kill them with our arms. Even bullets will be mortal while they're focused on someone equally strong as them."

-"Will we be safe-", her petite voice was stifled by a tighter hug and a vibrating floor.

Daniel knew the odds were against him. A king being cornered by all the other enemy pieces on this board. The times when a lie shined more beautiful than a missed oportunity to secure a safe reality- regret.

A white rose glowed by the shine of the moon. Grey spots staining it as the raindrops fell onto the petals. It stood upright however, not giving in to the weight of the pressure.

-"Lizzy, after this, I'll quit. I'll quit this and we'll live together in a wonderful white house, surrounded by a green meadow, what do you say? This was the dream you told me about the other day, right?"

"Mr. Cherrywine!"-

The woman escaped the warm arms and withdrew into the cold emptiness.

-"They're here, am I right?", Daniel's tone of voice filled with rising maturity.

-"Sir, shall we proceed with our current plan or do-"

-"Tonight, soldier. Tonight is the one time you may all act as you will."

-"Sir?", a lost voice, deep within darkness, alike a child asking his parent for approval.

-"Go, now. Defend this house to your dying breath! Carry on this spirit to the others! Fight!"

"Sir!", Daniel watched the man's back turn, slowly but surely passing through the same door he entered the only safe room left with. Someone who would not return, ever. Only his footsteps echoed through the hallway back into the office right into Daniel's consciousness. Lizzy stared into his teary eyes, his slightly twitching jaw and his lying mouth. She approached him again, this time with a caring gentleness, however she did not understand just why his emotional state changed so suddenly but caressed him nonetheless.

"It would seem we are not the first ones to arrive.", I said.

"Izzat good, or bad?", Bruce asked.

"Obviously good.", Leigh responded.

Next to the country road there was a white facility, in the middle of a wide garden, which was the headquarters of the World Military. Usually belted by a rectangular-shaped iron fence and now those missing parts were going to help other parties to intrude. The three made their way into the front yard which was not bombarded to naught like those parts of the now useless fence. Danger approached security. On the way to their mischief the scent of innocent nature followed their soon to be bloody hands. The mother tried to stop their children from committing sin, yet failed to do so. The child had attained its own body, mind, and Will.

Changing from the calm sound of shaking leaves and trees and the cold but soothing wind, gunshots had already been fired in the entrance hall which benefitted Walter's thought of idea. After hearing the commotion start and finally taking off he told Bruce to stay with him to infiltrate this house.

-"Leigh, you go to the right side and enter from there.", he pointed with the tip of his finger to the fourth floor while his voice was being shaken after every two words from jogging steps.

-"Huh? Are you blind? There ain't no entrance."

-"Why yes, there is actually."

-"No. Jumping in through the window and I'll attract everyone's attention and then I'm fucked."

-"You won't be. Bruce, there is someone already up there, am I correct?"

-"As a matter of fact, he is right, Leigh.", Bruce was able to locate various positions of people if he desired so. Being an observer led him to hold onto this exclusive right, yet robbed him of his ability to partake in conflicts of Will such as the ongoing one in the entrance hall of the World Military.

-"Who?", she suddenly seemed interested. Her breath was not exhausted, not at all but energetic.

-"Haha, Leigh! It's ya old fella! What's his name again?", Bruce showed enthusiasm for the idea.

-"Leo?"

-"What do you say, girl? There is an entrance on the right, yes?"

She smiled. Her body accelerated, she was in the middle of the two and now had her nose in front of them as bits of pieces of flimsy, enlightened particles slowly came together and joined around her body helically, they lit up with increased regularity until she finally jumped through shaking might towards the right side of the facility and landed in a matter of mere seconds. Her hair, white and fanned out, carried by a gentle atmosphere by moonlight.

-"Amazing.", Bruce said plainly astonished.

-"For her age, that is true. But watch now."

While the two men were running still toward the entrence, having their heads turned to watch Leigh, almost having reached their destination, their sight was blocked by a tree and all they could see was how the greenery was shortly illuminated by a flashing lightning which helped Leigh achieve great height she was in need of in order to reach the destined window on the fourth floor. And by the help of resounding smashed glass both of them were left reassured as their desired entrance neared and grew in size. Walter stood with his back on the left wall next to the entrance door and so did Bruce on the right. The two were being parted by two massive glass doors which incurred small, young scratches and bruises. One peek and one would see brutal warfare. The interior orange lighting crawled over the floor to flee and reached out to the door and faded into the outside, not meeting the shaded shoes of the two.

-"Find a person named-"

*Gunshots*

"Huh, what?"-

-"Daniel Che-"

*Person dying by firearm, exclaiming death cry*

"Cherrywine, right? The leader of-"-

-"Precisely! Locate him!"

*The glass doors burst into thousands of shards*

"Found him! I know where-"-

-"Perfect!"

"Hey there's two kids up there!"

"A boy and a girl?! Why the hell are kids here?!"

"They same from the park in Pandemonium, even!"

"Keep your eyes on the- Argh! Fuck!"

"Damnit, You there! Have your squad handle the children! Go! Go! Go!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Those shouted words travelled their way through the hall by the same air that could be listened to by the outsiders. Walter and Bruce nodded in agreement and charged in themselves after having turned invisible by Walter's doing. Altough maintaining such casual charisma for the younger, Bruce was again amazed by the carefree attitude internally. Words exchanged were only audible by the other- perfectly thought of for secret infiltrating. They ran. Running amongst a disgustingly high quantity of nameless bodies, dropped dusty weapons in the fawn-coloured entrance hallway to advance forth to the stairs leading to the upper floors. The images were shaky and flashing because of the hurry but seen hidden behind a wall, there was someone dressed rather fancy for an occasion such as this. A blonde protected by four men, also in suits-

"We're the fucking Blackwoods, alright?!"

The boy's eyes favoured green sapphires, lighting up, he pushed the two men next to him aside, his upbeat, blonde hair bounced carefully as he the took the small but promising steps outside of the brittle but protecting wall, escaping the extended grasping arms wanting to hold back their young leader he stood there, out in the open, thenceforth having amounts of military and third-party rifles pointing on and their courageous, blind anger aimed for him; his pupils widened. Walter's drifted towards the left, capturing the essence of the scene of a boy's stand before a rain of bullets ended his young life. Walter and Bruce were right next to him, in the middle of the hall and to evade potential death here Walter wanted to shift the storm of bullets behind them but he was unable to proceed so, as the blonde pointed his right index finger up in the air, his tips of blonde hair were slowly eaten by a pitch black. The bullets flew with incredible speed after having been unleashed by provoked ignorance. Ray Blackwood willed fire, shaped alike sharp, giant roses, enough to protect him and his team, with rushing flames swallowing the lead as it continuously reached for the soldiers on the higher level, clearing the hall of other gang members as they realized the offered opportunity to climb up in the enemy's castle and rushed towards the freed stairway just as Walter and Bruce did. At the time, in conjunction with the beard stubbles around his mouth, his lips formed and pinned a smile on Walter's face during the witness of the fire's spectacle. Alongside the smell of dead bodies, technically spread gunpowder, the reek of blood there now joined too an ashy scent which also stained the beige walls with clouds of grey. Little crisping fires spread and burned on the floor, inflaming the golden carpet, acting like the starting signal for the blonde to take off the black mantle. The floor was trembling due to the drumming feet of the enraged. His men followed the back covered in a black tank top with war cries enacting a picture of five gang members chasing after a hord of about one hundred bounty hunters chasing after the entire staff of soldiers of the World Military- A hunt.

"Why did you stop? Mr. Renwick?"

Walter tried to cover his overtaking smile with a weak left hand which then landed in his lap as he began to hold back his snicker, exposing his mouth area which lacked any beard growth.

-"Please do excuse me, Mr. Atrox. I was just thinking... This one kid, Ray Blackwood."

-"Positions of both Blackwoods as well as everyone elses besides yourself are unknown, yes?"

-"That is correct. Everyone who was involved in that night and was featured on the wanted list, is somewhere unknown. However, that was not the reason for my laughter, excuse me, please."

-"Then what reason did you laugh for?", Atrox became nervous and impatient. His grip around the sweaty recorder tightened again, yet not as tight as it became after Walter's response:

-"I was just thinking about how Ray Blackwood could, if he so desired, infiltrate even your facility. Even without me acting as an initiator, believe my words as I saw his flames in person and do allow me to share this with you: Orange isn't the brightest colour his fire can rage into."

The sight was cut rather short because of the insufficiency of lighting when she first had entered the building. Plus, she could not rely on someone else to handle small stuff like this like Walter could in the hallway, thus she had to use her own Will to enable herself to a greater vision. As she rushed with fast but faint steps forward small particles of lightning appeared and disappeared, appeared and disappeared to reduce the amount of pain she had to endure before actual combat. The light was minimal, yes but it served its purpose perfectly when Leigh noticed she was running down a narrow hallway on the fouth floor. Without worrying about herself, she progressed, she ran, she followed the same stenching smell of blood she scented when she fought Leo in the park. Her hand placed quickly on the sheath of her sword, her shoes cried aloud when she abruptly decelerated once she saw a slender frame of body standing with its back to her. The light was fading but before it went out and a new one arrived she saw a pale figure which featured a petite back where three long, sharp and thin scars running down the whole dorsum with spine-length, long, saggy brunette hair and oddly enough feminine curves.

-"What-", her clueless muttering was immediately topped by another astonishment in the very next second.

She evaded the daunting atmosphere radiating from the strange body, drifted backwards as the white strands of her wavy, long hair split her vision into many more little windows to peek through and her nose filled with the nauseous stench of blood she did not miss but was sadly too familiar with. Left to right and right to left it was corpses, however not as whole but slashed, brutally, they had become one with the walls and floor, without any mercy, their interiors seemed to fade into the elements of the components of the facility. Organs leaking their dried blood, spreading it onto the surfaces leaving a bitter aftertaste for Leigh's eyesight behind which evoked sheer disgust inside her prior-resolved consciousness. Yet, averting the sight of the late, focusing on the living, specifically the only other living being in the present in this dark hallway beside her, she drew her sword. It cried, alike ready to take life when it left it's shelter. The white blade was shining at regular intervals, made by the particals of her lightning manipulation, which shortened steadiliy as she pointed the edge of the blade towards the naked back, making it glow eternally.

-"This time, Leo. I'll cut your back open and make you cry.", altough whispering a careful but threatening tone the hallway made her words clearly audible to her enemy whose left scapula deformed, the cracks of bones, into a slowly twirling circle which was ready to unleash a beastly crawl towards its enemy only to paint another massacre of corpse:

-"Shh, hush or you'll bite your tongue.", his head turned slightly towards the girl. His tilted chin accentuated by blue light.

For a second she didn't know what had occured to her in a matter of mere five seconds and how those resulted in her falling out of the window, ready to greet the ground with her very face. Her vison was tossed, it seemed like up was down, down was up, left became right and right became left as her body was pushed and thrown towards the point she had entered the hallway in. On the brink of losing self control it was a small but impactful push forward it that made her fail falling into the depth of darkness. Reverting time was her Will, the only thing she wanted was to stand before her-

-"Leoooo!", the name echoed from a swollen throat back into the building's interior reaching its namebearer in a slight shock of surprise.

And there she was, in mid-air in the middle of his clear field of vision after having turned around completely to be welcomed by a girl encased in a glowing, blue aura, her widely opened, golden eyes told her a sad story reflecting the image of a broken boy.

Was it sadness her anger evolved into?

Was is regret her strike, already in action, was turning into?

She wanted it to stop, make the strike undone and forget this encounter, but even so, her action had already moved faster than her begging, twitching scream that was being thrown into the other, monotone face. The sword cut deep into the boy's left shoulder, driving its blade through muscle and bone, skin and cell, deforming and ripping apart what was once harmonic. Her feet met the floor safely, tiptoeing forwards making soft steps, her dizzy body fell into his arms, her head rested on his left shoulder. Both were enveloped in darkness' silence and tranquility whose small bubble of saftey and comfort were pierced by blinding lights. Leigh's eyes jumped back up just when she allowed herself to let her guard down, forget and drown into the warmth. A swarm of small military squads were rushing towards them. She could feel the danger in her stomach; the anxiety made her blood pressure rose to an unhealthy extent but she made no move; her lightning had long vanished. Only small bits of laughter unchained her from paralyzation. Leigh's pupils grew affixed to the sight of lines exploding out of their back's encasement, stretching and finally impaling every single soldier who dared to enter this hallway without giving any regard to their prior actions, hence suffering the lethal, equally unjustified, consequences. They were smashed down onto the floor to enable them to join their late comrades. She couldn't refrain from sharing a tear or two and bit into the shoulder to repress a scream of hopelessness and her quiet weeping; it was yet again too much for her to bear but ready to break down, having even averted vision, her ears caught the crawling sound of enraging words:

-"I thought you came to kill me..", thus causing something deep inside her tainted mind to allow her become free.

-"Yeah. You're right..", she whispered back.

Pushing and rejecting the warm body away from her, she ripped the sword out of his bleeding body and held it tightly in her right; creating afterimages she ran up with such excellent speed and reignited anger, turning her slender motion into a heavy slash. He evaded, as expected, thence her last afterimage before the inital blow had also striked without making Leo taking notice. The open wound was of much help to him as forms of blood outgrew and stopped the strike effortless. She aimed for and punched into his stomach, making the afterimages disappear and getting the lower part of her right arm sucked into Leo's body, making it stuck. Her shock was quickly calmed but not prepared for following: A acrobatic transition of the upper and lower body happened before her; she could feel the creeping fluidity of the stream of blood forbidding her arm freedom. Falling into distress an idea rose from small moment of clarity. "Ha!"  She rammed her free, electrified left arm into the body of blood as she herself was hit by a foot with such might, it smashed her into the wall next to the corpses.

-"Fuck. Fuck, ahh.", she bit her tongue and spit out blood. Her throat felt poisoned, such was the feeling, it made her think if her right arm had been injected with something toxic.

Remaining on her knees after having tried to stand up but failing due to increasing dizziness, he picked up her sword and threw it over to her which was first caught by her weak hands, afterward, the floor itself. New members came running into the hallway with shouts, cries, weapons and lights and were in a moment of mental aberration since the hallway had lost original strucure and acquired new shape in the form of a white, spacious room. A snap. The sword no longer lied on the floor, lightning jumped from one to another, striking down man after man. Whomever would spectate this act would blurr the sound of bullets but become accustomed to the sight of a berseker, one girl fallen into a killing frenzy, guided by hatred or frustration.

"Unable to kill one strong, so she turned to kill a few weak."

The blade took singular body parts which she used immorally as makeshift weapons to shove them into the living faces. The blood of your own friends was tossed into your eyes. Adult men were screaming as if still in kindergarten, as if having to go home, leaving behind and parting with your playmates for the day, except now it was for ever. Exclamations were cut short by halving throats in one-sided anguish. Ten, no twenty, thirty, they kept coming, they kept dying.

-"Alike a flash appearing before your chest allowing you to draw your last breath."

-"Were you able see her in action? I thought you were elsewhere at that time?"

-"Yes, I was indeed but I did get the chance to see her in action as she was my trainee before the execution of this operation.", Walter smiled casually.

-"Hm.", Atrox gave in to the statement without rebuttal,"Continue, then, please."

-"Of course.", he leaned back after having a sip of warm coffee.

The hord of madmen were yelling their way up, mercilessly losing and taking lives as they climbed and climbed up the stairway, grasped by the thought of world control. Pushing each other as well as military soldiers off the stairs, their minds were not functioning rationally no longer and at the very front of the heated mob were the Blackwoods, Bruce and Walter. Together, however, as if on command whilst running, their heads turned left, towards the passing lower story and metamorphosing structure. Agitated by the loss of stability of the weakening stairway they all accelerated and started running to their heart's content towards the promising destination. The collective stemping grew even louder than the mindless shouting of war cries and last confessions.

-"Walter is this your messed up witchcraft!?"

"Thank you kindly, but this isn't my accomplishment!"-

-"Whose is it then?"

"I'm not sure and how would I know for certain, but I will guess it's our Devil"-

"More importantly, is the target still on the top floor?"-

-"Man, it's seems like the top part hasn't been affected..yet."

We were running right behind the Blackwoods, too, still invisible however:

-"Ray!"

"It's alright, I'm fine as long as they believe so."

"Don't push yourself, too hard, Ray. You're already a better leader than your father."-

"I'm sorry...even after losing one of us you're still so.. goddammit!"

-"We're here to rescue Charles and no matter what it tak-"

-"Man, shut it and look over there.", he pointed towards the nearing wall, and shrinking width of the stairs, which was about to push everybody off and make them fall into their death, deep down into the abyss, the ground floor.

-"Ahh! Walter!"

"That's Satanael, I'm certain now, though he is not my current objective."-

-"Yeah, well but we're about to gon' get pushed off!"

"Oh, how very tragic..."-

"Juuuuuuump!"

Soldiers, gang members, assassins; all were willing to let themsleves get rescued due to an emerging ground floor whose height grew steadily without harmonic unrest, re-enacting the image of an elevator, by jumping to the left. Marble grinding upwardly on marble, screeching its deconstruction. A great quantity fell off when landing, therefore were screamed after but those painful screams were swiftly healed by the size of the rising chunks of the ground floor. They were seperated now, all on different levels of height. Once the 'elevator' passed the remains of the stairway, they started merging into one, barely getting crushed by the sudden fusion a lot of people were left with even less space to take a stand on.

Walls were cracking, returning to their singular elemental components, the house was truly coming down and reforming. Space and room were played with to one's own advantage.

-"Ray, You alright?"

"It'd be a damn shame if I wasn't!"

"Is your uncle still on the top floor?!"-

"Yeah, Shanna still can locate his presence up there."

-"Then, protect the blonde! Surround him and finish the military's dogs!"

"The introduction part is finally down, baby! Now it's our turn to take over! Let's fucking go!"

End of ACTVARIVM