#(it's not about that. it's the corrupting influence of the souls twisting her thoughts into something worse)

[layanomaly]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

You know how during the earlier episodes we still had theories of how “teen” couldve been Nicholas scratch??? well yeah despite having read the comics I didnt know much about him cuz I was mostly into “house of M�� and “children’s crusade” Volumes

And so I did a sort dive into his character 

AND I FOUND OUTT 

THAT IN THE COMICS

HIS CHARACTER HAD A REALLY DEEP CONNECTION WITH THE SALEM SEVEN 

AND HE ALSO ENDS UP BETRAYING AGATHA!!!

WHICH WAS ONE OF THE REASONS WHY I REALLY BELIEVED COULD “TEEN” BE NICHOLAS WITH ALL THE THEORIES ABOUT HOW HE MIGHT END UP BETRAYING HER AT THE END ROAD

Soooo coming back to the recent eps and what mightve happened between Agatha and rio-

AND IDK WHY I DIDNT THINK OF THIS SOONER or idk if anyone else has thought of it either 

But what I THINK might’ve happened between them is that as we know rio is BASICALLY death personified aka lady death and so I think Rio foresaw the future where Nicholas, once an innocent boy, would grow up to betray Agatha, likely influenced by the darker forces or ambitions as in the comics.(and before you ask "can lady death foresee futures???"....and honestly idk but she IS a cosmic entity and my theory is that before reaping souls she can sort of see glimpses of a persons future and when nicky died she saw his )

Knowing this, Rio, as a reaper of souls and irrevocably in love with Agatha- took a painful but calculated action—she reaped Nicholas’ soul while he was still innocent, believing that this would spare Agatha from the heartbreak of his future betrayal. Rio wanted Agatha to remember Nicholas as the sweet boy she loved, rather than the twisted figure he would become.

Which is probably why she didnt tell Agatha about this and let her hate her for not bringing Nicky backk

BUTT Agatha who was unaware of her motivations turned to the dark hold and quote on quote “hid behind all that dark magic” in an attempt to bring Nicholas back (Which is when I think the rumours about Agatha sacrificing Nicholas for the dark hold started to form since these event took place one after another)

And The Darkhold, feeding off Agatha’s grief and determination,(like it did to wanda) began corrupting her, pushing her toward dark magic and chaos.

And in her blind determination, Agatha became a threat—not only to herself but also to the balance of life and death that Rio upheld.

Which is why I think rio was out for Agatha in the first ep But the complexity of their relationship complicates matters

Which creates this tragic cycle and I just jhebfsekufhbvwev KILL ME PLEASE 

Rio acted out of love to protect Agatha from Nicholas' eventual betrayal, but in doing so, inadvertently set Agatha on a dark path that now forces Rio to stop her. Both are driven by love for Nicholas but so tragically misaligned in their goals.

[edit: alsooo im completely on board with all the theories going on about how rio is after billy on the road since he cheated death yadayada but i saw a lot of people asking as to why rio was after agatha in the first ep and i hope this outlook answers thatt......oh and when i say "after agatha" i didnt mean it in the sense that she wanted to see her hurt but more in the sense that she cared so much about agatha that she didnt want to see her get corrupted by it]

[watchnrant]

Quake: Veil of Deception #1 – Shadows of Madripoor

The neon-soaked streets of Madripoor pulse with an eerie, unnatural glow, casting long, ominous shadows over a city steeped in corruption and danger. To Daisy Johnson—perched atop a crumbling rooftop—those shadows are more than just darkness; they’re a manifestation of the doubts and fears that gnaw at her soul. Once a proud agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Daisy now stands alone, haunted by the fall of the organization that was her family. But despite the darkness within, she’s driven by a singular mission: uncover the truth behind the Power Broker, a figure whose influence is spreading through Madripoor like a cancer. For Daisy, this isn’t just about stopping a villain—it’s about proving that S.H.I.E.L.D.’s legacy still matters, even in a world that’s forgotten its heroes.

A soft chime interrupts her thoughts—a secure, encrypted message from an old ally. It’s a brief, cryptic note, but the implications are vast: advanced weapons are flooding the black market, and Madripoor is ground zero. Daisy’s objective is clear: infiltrate, investigate, and dismantle the operation before it escalates. Yet, doubt lingers. S.H.I.E.L.D. was her backbone; without it, can she truly stand against the looming darkness?

As she prepares to descend from her perch, her gaze catches a fleeting reflection in a nearby window—a flash of blonde hair, a shadow moving swiftly through the neon glow. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, but something about it unsettles her. Shaking off the unease, Daisy leaps from the rooftop, cushioning her descent with a focused pulse of vibrations that ripple through the cracked pavement. The city seems to breathe with malevolence, each shadow a potential threat. But she presses on, her senses razor-sharp, until she’s cornered by a group of mercenaries—hardened, ruthless, and eager to prove themselves.

But Daisy is not in the mood for games. With a flick of her wrist, she sends a tremor through the air, disorienting the thugs. Before they can recover, she’s on them, her voice a low growl as she demands to know who sent them. One mercenary, trembling, spills a name—a broker who deals in secrets at an exclusive club frequented by Madripoor’s elite. It’s a lead, but in a city built on deception, Daisy knows better than to take anything at face value. Still, with no other options, she heads for the club, her mind already working through the layers of lies she’ll need to peel back.

Disguised and ready, Daisy steps into the club, the air thick with the stench of wealth and vice. The patrons are a who’s who of Madripoor’s criminal underbelly, each more dangerous and unpredictable than the last. As she navigates the room, her eyes scanning for potential threats, she fails to notice the figure watching her from the shadows—Sharon Carter. Once an ally, now something far more sinister, Sharon is the Power Broker, her ambitions having twisted her into a formidable adversary. She observes Daisy with a cold, calculating gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. There’s a moment, just before Sharon approaches, where Daisy’s instincts flare—an almost imperceptible tightening of her grip on the glass in her hand. But the moment passes, and she dismisses it as nerves.

Sharon approaches with the practiced ease of a predator, offering assistance cloaked in seemingly benign intentions. Her words are laced with subtle manipulations, each sentence a carefully laid trap. But Daisy, focused on her mission, fails to pick up on the undercurrents, her desperation blinding her to the danger at hand. She accepts Sharon’s help, unaware that she’s being drawn deeper into a web of deceit.

The investigation intensifies, with Daisy chasing leads through the maze-like alleys and labyrinthine corridors of Madripoor. Each new clue seems to bring her closer to the Power Broker, but the truth remains frustratingly out of reach. The neon lights reflect her internal turmoil—flickering and distorted, much like her sense of self as she struggles to reconcile her past with the person she needs to be. Occasionally, as Daisy pushes forward, she notices the lights flickering more intensely, as if they’re echoing her growing doubt and the ever-looming threat she faces. This symbolism ties the city’s corruption to her own internal struggle, making Madripoor a living representation of Daisy’s state of mind.

Eventually, her search leads her to a dilapidated warehouse on the city’s outskirts, where the air is thick with the scent of salt and decay. Inside, rows of crates stand ominously, filled with advanced weaponry that once bore the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia. The sight of them stirs a deep ache in Daisy’s chest—a reminder of what she’s lost. As she moves through the warehouse, a sudden memory surfaces—an old S.H.I.E.L.D. project she once overheard in passing, something classified, something called “Project Quake.” The name was cryptic, but the urgency and secrecy surrounding it had always bothered her.

But before she can process the gravity of the situation, the shadows around her come alive. She’s ambushed, and a fierce battle ensues. Her opponent is skilled, a mere pawn sent to test her mettle. Each strike Daisy lands is fueled by her doubts, her fears, and her lingering grief. But she refuses to yield. Even as the fight pushes her to her limits, her resolve only hardens. The Power Broker may be elusive, but Daisy is determined to see this through.

After the battle, Daisy stood alone in the warehouse, battered but unbroken. She knew she was being played, but she was no longer the same agent she once was. The shadows might be deep, but Daisy Johnson was prepared to face them head-on. Just as she began to catch her breath, a sudden realization hit her—among the crates, there was a hidden compartment. Inside, she found an old S.H.I.E.L.D. file with her name on it. The words “Project Quake” were scrawled across the cover in a familiar handwriting, one she never thought she would see again.

Daisy paused, her heart pounding, and for a moment, she felt the weight of the world pressing down on her. The mission, the shadows, the corruption—it was all converging, forcing her to confront not just the external threats but the internal ones as well. She was changing, hardening, becoming someone who could survive in this new, darker world. The neon lights outside flickered one last time, and she knew there was no turning back.

Meanwhile, somewhere nearby, Sharon watched in silence, her confidence wavering as she realized just how dangerous Daisy truly was. The game was on, and in this deadly contest, there could only be one victor. But now, a new question lingered in the air—what exactly was “Project Quake,” and why did the Power Broker have it?

[krikeymate]

Blood Runs Thick

Readers can have a little cannibalism as a treat. As requested, hope you like it!

Often in her life, Sam’s wondered if she’s cursed. If God doesn’t have some plan for her that she keeps sidestepping and avoiding. Why else would these insane things continue to happen?

Or maybe it’s just destiny. Her fate to fall.

Billy.

Richie.

Christina.

…Tara.

Everyone around her, everyone she touches… it’s like she’s some corrupting influence, a rot spreading from her soul to theirs.

She doesn’t know.

All she knows is that Tara’s staring at her with glazed hungry eyes, blood and flesh dripping from her mouth.

And that she’s fucked.

It’s probably stupid that the first thought that goes through her mind is zombies.

Then it’s probably not what it looks like.

Tara eating her boyfriend isn’t really a thing she’d ever think – well except that one time kneeling before Danny where her mind flashed to her sister doing the same to Chad, and thoroughly ruined her evening. And Danny’s. And Tara’s. And if Chad had actually been there, you best believe she’d have ruined his evening too. Especially his evening.

From the look of things, Sam doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.

“Tara?”

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Sam stares at her sister in disbelief.

“It looks like you’re eating Chad!”

There’s a pause as Tara stares back at her, eyes wide. Sam thinks she can see the very moment the realisation of what she’s been doing hits her.

“Oh… it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“WHAT THE FUCK TARA?!”

The sorry and puppy dog eyes she sends her would have sounded more sincere if the girl hadn’t been licking blood off her fingers at the same time.

Sam closes the door.

Apparently, it starts like this:

Her mother’s in a cult. A flesh-eating cult.

She’s a god damned cannibal.

It sounds crazy to say. To think about. To even comprehend.

But crazy is just kinda how Sam’s life seems to be going so far, so why the fuck not, right?

And maybe Sam could have ignored it and left it for someone else to deal with, if the bitch hadn’t kidnapped her sister. You’d think by now that people would have learnt never to fucking touch Tara Carpenter, because she has a psycho ass sister who will cut down anyone who gets in between them.

But apparently her mother hadn’t gotten the memo.

Sam’s had a lot of regrets in her life, pretty much all of them centred around Tara. Leaving her at the mercy of their delusional mother for several days was just another one to add to the list.

Christina bends down on one knee, robes flowing around her, and strokes a hand along her daughter’s cheek. “Hello darling,” she coos, voice full of adoration. The sound of a loving mother. “I’ve missed you.” Tara jolts, pulling her head back as far as she can. The chair she’s tied to doesn’t allow much movement at all, and soft fingers turn harsh, digging into her cheek and chin, turning her head to face her captor once again. It causes her mother’s mask to slip, the visible anger so much more familiar than the façade she’d been parading. “Look at people when they’re talking to you baby, or have you lost all your manners while in your sister’s care?” Tara clenches her jaw and slips her eyes to the side. She won’t give her the satisfaction. Christina scoffs, standing up. “She always was a terrible influence. It’s all that infected blood inside her.” Tara does her best not to react, but her mother’s next words make a chill run down her spine. She doesn’t know what she means, but she knows it’s nothing good. “But don’t worry dear, we can cleanse her, together. Then we can be a family again. …Now, are you hungry?”

Sam doesn’t take her eyes off her sister as she makes her way over to the bed.

For all that Tara had seemed confident from afar, the closer she gets, the more she seems to curl into herself. Is it shame, Sam wonders? Horror? Fear?

The thought makes her stomach twist painfully.

She never wants her sister to be scared of her. Of herself.

There’s nothing Tara could do that Sam wouldn’t protect her from, that could make her stop loving her. Somehow the thought that she hadn’t made that clear already feels so much more alarming than the cooling body atop the sheets.

Standing over her, Sam can see the way her sister’s hands shake.

All she wants is to make it stop.

So she does.

Taking Tara’s head in her hands, she pulls her forward and holds her close, one arm wrapping around her shoulder and the other cradling her head to her stomach.

Sam’s lost for words, so she says the only thing she can say.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ll fix this.”

It makes her sister break, sticky hands clutching at Sam’s shirt and tears beginning to soak the cotton.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t. I was just so hungry.”

Tara doesn’t want anything from her mother – unless it’s her deciding to Let. Her. Go. – But Christina doesn’t give her much of a choice. Someone – robed and masked and entirely unidentifiable – holds her head still, while her mother leans in close and spoon feeds her. At first, Tara had resisted, refusing to open her mouth, but that only led to it being hinged open painfully as they forced it down her throat. At least this way she has some semblance of control, she can feign fullness and beg for no more. So long as she eats something, it keeps her mother happy. It makes the woman feel like she’s winning. Silently, Tara begs for Sam to hurry up, to come and find her. She’s looking, she knows she’s looking. Sam would never leave her here, no matter what poison her mother whispers in her ear. She hopes it’s soon; she’s starting to lose track of time in this endlessly lit room, and the food that had at first left her nauseous and retching, is beginning to taste… good. It lingers on her tongue and sits heavy in her stomach, but with every meal she cares less and less; she takes more and more. They’ve done something to it, she knows, if only by the way her mother’s grin widens the more she takes. But she doesn’t have a choice. Tara will do what it takes to survive.

Sam sits on the floor, leaning against the bedroom wall with Tara curled up in her lap, and runs her fingers through her hair.

Her sister is calm and content now, as cuddly as a sleepy kitten.

It feels an apt comparison; watching Tara slice skin from a boy she’d known since diapers felt a lot like watching the neighbours cat scale the tree in their childhood backyard to devour the nest of baby sparrows that had been living there.

Sam had been upset; inconsolable, and angry. She remembers the way Tara, not even a year old, had crawled into her lap then, like she is now, and babbled at her until she’d stopped crying.

It’s funny to think about, how similar the two events are, how different.

She winces as teeth scrape against her shoulder.

Yeah, nothing’s really changed. She’s still being used as a teething toy.

She’s still a big sister.

“Why are you doing this?!”

Sam would like to say that she’s not enjoying this, that it’s purely practical. A hunter killing for food out of necessity.

But that would be a lie.

She feels like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be – with a knife in her hand, and prey at her feet.

The man cowers on the floor, one leg bleeding profusely where she’d sliced along his calf. Hamstringing and hobbling him.

He’s not going anywhere; she can take her time. She can have fun.

She walks towards him slowly, enjoying the frantic way he tries to crawl away, his pitiful cries for help that he sobs out between tears are music to her ears.

It feels so good to be free, to not have to hold back anymore.

To be herself.

To be unmasked.

She slips it from her face, dropping it to the floor, feral grin liberated.

“Are you clean?” she asks softly. She knows he can’t hear her, but that’s part of the little game she likes to play.

“Wh-what?”

“Are. You. Clean?”

She creeps ever closer, kneeling down before him and rests her knife against his neck.

“Your blood, your body,” she clarifies, looking directly into his fear-filled eyes.

“M-my blood? Yes, yes! I’m clean! Please, whatever it is you think I’ve done- I haven’t- I haven’t infected anyone or- or- whatever it is you’re thinking!”

She tilts her head to the side, pretending to ponder his words.

He takes this false hope and clings to it.

“Please, you’ve clearly mistaken me for someone else. I won’t tell anyone, I promise, just please let me go.”

She grins and backs away, rising to her feet. “Good. Good,” she murmurs, holding out a hand.

The man damn near pisses himself, but takes it anyway, thanking her profusely. Up until the moment she jams the knife into the side of his neck.

“I just wanted to make sure,” she says to the gurgling body as it slumps against her. “You can never be too careful after all.”

Sam knows he’s clean, she’d read his blood test results herself.

She’d never risk Tara’s health.

Sam feels a lot like a wolf as she drags the carcass home, ready to feed her pack of one.

Their current den, an old farmhouse – in poor condition and cheap for it, but crucially, isolated – is the perfect place for them in the next chapter of their lives.

The way Tara’s eyes light up as Sam beholds her gift never fail to make her heart swell with pride and love.

Sam’s a provider, and as she moves through the house to drop her catch off in the workshop, her sister sings her praises the entire way, barely a step behind.

There’s something so undeniably addicting to being needed, to being the one person who can make another’s world keep turning.

And as history has shown, Sam is, undeniably, an addict.

She wonders what 13-year-old her would think of her now. At the time, learning that she had a killer’s blood in her veins had seemed like the worst thing in the world.

She’d been so scared she would turn out just like him.

Maybe knowing that she’d do it for Tara would have made all the difference. Maybe they could have avoided so much pain, so much shame. So much hurt.

But she can’t change the past, only embrace the future. Their future. Together.

Sam grins over at her sister as she makes herself comfortable at the other side of the table.

Tara doesn’t have the strength of the size to deal with the body, much to her irritation, so the next best thing is to watch Sam carve it up instead. Anticipation of the meal she’ll get later.

While Tara is fascinated with watching Sam’s process, Sam is fascinated with hers. Her eyes will slip from the knife to watch her sister’s hands as they run over cold dead skin. She’ll analyse her hungry eyes and the way she chews her lip, and wonder.

She’s thought a hundred times about trying it for herself, but never bought herself to ask.

Tara wouldn’t say no, she’d be thrilled even, Sam knows. To share this, to forge another chain linking them together.

But somehow, she thinks, sliding a treat across the table, it won’t ever be as satisfying as the enjoyment on her sister’s face as the flesh meets her tongue.

[mi-leena]

Undying Loyalty - Jean Grey x Scott Summers.

Word count: 2308

Triggers: Drugs, kidnapping, exilememt, ritualistic homicide, and topics alluding to depression, aggression, mania, and multiple personality disorder are in this story. Mature audiences only.

Becoming Phoenix had utterly ruined Jean Grey's life. She had went mad in her three years of solidarity, and lost her sanity little by little after she got 'rescued' by mutants from a different timeline so she could become their sick queen even though it had only been a few months. Not to mention that the people who took her and kept to her needs were variants of her own friends. The migraines she had experienced all her life had only gotten worse over time, and in some way, Jean had lost her sense of morality to the Phoenix that invaded her body when she took over. The ache of loss had long reigned heavy on Jean's heart over the years, mourning the love she lost the day her personal hell began.

  This wasn't how her life was supposed to be. She was supposed to spend these lost years with Scott, and build their life together. They could have already had their own baby by now, their own house, their own life; But instead they were seperated by too many miles, with too many dangers lying in the path of finding each other again. She hadn't even found this timeline's Scott, and it felt so cruel to Jean. So she accepted a long time ago that she wouldn't be rescued by her Scott like a damsel in distress, and had vowed to keep her promises and vows to him. Jean will not remarry. Jean will not lay in the same bed as someone else. Her heart belonged to Scott Summers, and nothing could ever change that for her.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

  My eyes darted open, the sudden noise of the knocks had startled me awake. I look to the door, sighing in realization that I was still trapped in this damn place and not in Scott's arms. As the feeling of waking up washed over, I began to realize that I could feel the beginning of a migraine starting. Perfect. "Come in," I called, queueing the door to open. Jubilee had entered the room, carrying in a steaming hot coffee with a beautiful plate of a breakfast omlete and placing it on the nightstand beside me. My eyes fell hungrily on the food and drink, before lifting my gaze to look to Jubilee with a greatful smile. She was the only one that could make me... Somewhat feel at home in this hellhouse, she was so similar to the Jubilee I used to know, though her mind was much darker than what I had known her to have. It was... Saddening, to me. Seeing such a young soul being so corrupted by influence... Something about it made me see myself in her, and it brought a overwhelming comfort. Thankfully, she wasn't really a servant to these royal assholes, she was just the kid to one of the lower downs.

  Jubilee returned the smile and took a step back, giving me a little space, she was always polite even in her recklessness. "I thought you'd want a coffee," Jubilee said, before exclaiming a quick 'oh!' in rememberance of something, before she reached into her pocket and pulled out one of my migraine pill bottles, offering it to me. "I had a feeling your head was hurting, So..." Jubilee's voice trailed off. A wider, more genuine smile spread across my lips, thanking her for the coffee and medicine.

  "You would be correct," I responded, before twisting the lid off of the pill bottle and tapping out two pills into my hand, before reaching for the coffee to take the pills before placing the pill bottle on the table as well. "Have you eaten breakfast?" I asked her, looking at the plate of breakfast that she had set down. I reached for it, taking a couple of quick bites of the food as she responded.

  "I haven't yet, no." Jubilee admitted. When I looked up from the plate, I just barely caught sight of her dipping her head in... Shame? Embarrassment? The smile I wore so happily for her had dipped into a frown, before taking one last bite before I placed the fork down on the plate, patting the empty spot on the bed next to me. Jubilee obliged, and I placed the plate into her lap.

  "I will make sure you remain fed, and you can ask the chefs for food whenever you want," I granted lovingly, placing a gentle had on her shoulder. "I won't let anyone tell you no." I promised, before standing up and reaching for my velvet red robe, then walking to the makeup table in front of a mirror that peered over the townspeople. I picked up my brush and began to run it through the thick strands of my fiery red hair, in a trance of a lost thought. I couldn't save these people that I ruled. This wasn't some sort of monarchy, this was a god damn cult, and I was forced to be the leader.

  The mutants in this timeline were all casted away to an off-the-grid island. We're illegal and considered an extreme threat. Maybe they weren't wrong on that, but had these people not been shunned, perhaps this... Insane religion would have never happened. These people are violent, just the way the media paints every mutant to be, and are practically brainwashed by these... Powers they have. These mutants kill, these mutants... Torture. All of them. Well, most of them. My eyes roam in the mirror, seeing the munching Jubilee sitting on her bed. No Jubilee, though. If I ever get out of here, I have to make sure her and her mom will be safe. In these years as 'Queen,' I grew attached to this bright young woman. I tried to be the best role model I could be, but Jubilee still got herself into seeing, and sometimes participating in these sick... Almost ritualistic activities, but when you grow up around people who uses violence as a fun past time, can you really blame the poor kid? Perhaps the X-Gene in this universe is... far more extreme than what I was used to, but at this point I wasn't entirely sure what was and wasn't true.

  After about an hour of girly talk and getting ready for the day, Jubilee and I walked out of my bedroom, and made our way down the hallway to get to the Great Hall, which is usually where I reside. "So, I have to ask," Jubilee began as I just barely caught a glimpse of the glance up she gave beside me. "Do you want to find yourself a King one day like the council has been suggesting?" With her words, I felt my heart jump into my throat, with only one word that weighed dreadfully on my brain. Scott. Forcing down the sudden rush of... yearning, I chuckled out of a nervous impulse. The sound of voices took over her head briefly.

  'I, take thee Jean...'

  'I vow to never leave your side...'

  'I promise to always love you...'

  'I do...'

  I crossed my arms behind my back as we walked,

my fingers interlocking together. "To who?" I asked jokingly, trying to lighten up my sudden mood shift. "No, I don't plan to marry. I don't even want to go through with this stupid... Blind dating thing they want me to do tomorrow night," I explained, shaking my head at the thought.

  "Even if they brought you the hottest guy in our timeline?" Jubilee teased back, her child-like smile warming my heart at the sight as she playfully nudged me to the side with her shoulder. It donned on me that I had never told her about Scott. "If I were you and I had a chance to marry rich like that, I would. I'd love to get out of here, and take Mom with me."

  I smiled down to the younger woman, nodding in approval of her aspiration. Trust in me, kid. I'm getting you out of here at some point. "Wanna hear a story?" I asked, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close as they walked together. Jubilee's arm wrapped around my waist, and I saw her nod eagerly. "Back on my original timeline, I had a love. We were high school sweethearts, and about... five or so years ago? We got married," I explained, trying my best to keep my voice from wavering. I hadn't told anyone about him yet... It felt strange telling it to someone. "We got back from our honeymoon, and then I... Took on the Phoenix."

  Jubilee's pace slowed to a halt, as she looked up to me, seemingly shellshocked by the story. "You're.. Married?" She asked, detangling herself from me and standing in front of me. It reminded me of a mother about to reprimand her child. "Have you tried to, like, go back to him?"

  I shook my head, a silent 'no' in response to her question. "Before... These people came and got me, I lived next to the sun. It was the safest place for the Phoenix to be. I can't go back to him, it's too risky to chance his death. It's selfish." I elaborated, a small sigh slipping through my lips. "Enough of that, though. You need to get to class, yes?" I mentioned, before pulling the kid into a loving hug. I just wanted Jubilee to know that I was here for her, and what was best for her. This Jubilee felt a little different in my embrace, but it still felt like... This was the Jubilee of my home world. Her reminder was anchoring, and it made me feel like I would do anything for this precious human.

We pull away from each other and go our seperate ways. I make my way to the throne, sitting down as servants and 'employees' roam around in front of her, preparing for tomorrow night's Prince blind date night ball . I was nervous at the thought of the ball, and I worried I may not have a choice in any of these decisions even if I was queen, by either the council or by Phoenix. These people seem to think that there isn't a Queen without her King, and they weren't exactly willing to hear otherwise. In an attempt for a moment of peace and quiet, I closed my eyes. My migraine had dulled significantly, thankfully, however the dull ache of what pain was there remained. I take the moment to try and sort through the loud thoughts inside my skull.

A flash of heat lapped over my body like an oncoming wave of bottled anger. My eyes flicked open, and I felt the twisted curve of a smirk pulling on the corner of my lips. I roll my head around my shoulders, the soft sound of cracks filling my ears as all the tension released from my body. I sat for a few moments, relaxed in the seat, but then I realized that something felt... Off. It was a strange feeling she had felt a dozen times, but only became a distance memory due to the rising anxiety from the feeling of neing trapped in her body. These movements weren't me, Jean Grey. This was Phoenix, and she only awakes to raise absolute hell for everyone and anyone around her.

  Sne turned her head, a devious glint resting on her eyes. She lazily lifted her hand, summoning fire and watching the flames spark up into the air. The heat of the fire warmed her cheeks, a smirk rested on her lips as she slowly let the fire die out before she stood up and wiped the soot away from her hands. She strolled away from the Great Hall and to the medical ward. This was where they did their... Tests.

  Phoenix reached for the the door knob and turned it, stepping inside the ward and closing the door behind her. Immediately, her eyes had landed on Beast. He was a crazy talented scientist who ran these tests. Her eyes glanced across the patients, rogue patients that were ridden with utter violence. "How are things coming along today?"

  "The serum seems to be working the way we expected. Only two of the seven I've tested so far needed the Seroquel sedative," Hank explained, his eyes never leaving the clipboard in front of him. The X-Gene is considered a psychotic gene instead of a physical gene, so in this lab, they tested subjects with all kinds of different medicines. It wouldn't be so illegal if their patients hadn't been kidnapped mutants that were brainwashed into thinking they were all monsters.

  The serum they were testing today is a Xanax-Steroid mixture. They were testing the psychoactive effects of aggression, so they needed a way to increase aggression. It was a low dose mixture, so the two that had reacted strongly would likely need a lower dose. The reason the Seroquel is used is because it's a anti-psychotic that has a heavy sedative side effect. This is what they use on prisoners when they act out and resist.

  "Keep up the good work, Hank," Phoenix praised, reading the clipboard over the furry beast's shoulder. "This is going to change the world one day. I know it." She assured with a wicked smile, before turning on her heel and walking away. Throughout the rest of the day, Phoenix roamed the halls and periodically checked in on the patient ward, the cafeteria, the school rooms, all of it.

  Jean Grey may not want to find her wed tomorrow night, but I will. We won't be seeing Scott again anytime soon, why hold myself to a useless promise? I want to have fun. Phoenix always gets what she wants.

[ramble-writes]

O Guardian of Mine

WARNING. CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM THE SEASON OF THE WITCH ACTIVITIES. Game: Destiny 2 Warnings: no others Character: Wolf-19 Quick drabble Also please be sure to like and reblog so my works can spread around for all to read!

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Upon arriving at the Athenaeum, he heard it. The beating heart of the egg, as it sat in its cage, rang in his servos. Wolf walked up the small path where the sound got louder till he stood in front of it, opticals staring at that salmon-colored shell with a faint shadow of the Ahamkara within. The barely visible veins pulsed in time with its heart, showing how alive it was. He wondered, like Eris, how this egg survived Taken corruption and came to be in Savathun's spire.

The Exo Hunter looked about the Throne World as if making sure no prying eyes were watching him. Other than the three orbs of The Witch's eyes floating in the sky. He's heard whispers from the Wish Dragons before, from the Ahamkara Spines and the Sealed Grasps he wears upon his arms. But that's all there was to those items: whispers. They've said things and guided his hands to sure shots, so he never missed a bullet. They have grown fond of him for what souls cling to those remains but not once invaded his thoughts to control him.

Here, within a separate dimension, it was as if those whispers died off in the presence of the egg. Wolf tilted his head as he watched the shadow move, and what seemed like hands touched the inner membrane. Carefully, with a hand, he touched the surface of the shell, a shakey breath he didn't need to leave him. A hand from the Ahamkara reacted and moved to where his hand was as if acknowledging his presence.

With his free hand, Wolf pushed down his hood to remove his helmet. Red optics blinked as the prongs on the sides of his head twitched some. Slowly, he leaned forward, letting his forehead pressed against the shell. Compared to the Taken eggs he'd destroyed, they felt dead. Each would let out a horrid screech that made his joints tremble, and his servos vibrate as an arrow from Wish Ender pierced their shells. But this one? It was alive.

He knew Riven was a horrible creature, worse upon being corrupted and having that horrid curse placed upon the Dreaming City, along with what she did to Uldren (now Crow). But maybe things can change with this one? Just like the tale of Eao, who lived happily within the Dreaming City and recited old stories before he was slain for wanting to leave. But with this pure and untouched egg, maybe under Guardian and Vanguard's influence, it'll be different and won't bring chaos like Eris and Ikora claimed.

For now, Wolf sat in silence. No thoughts or voice is needed to express his hope. For it seemed the Ahamkara within could tell due to their species' intelligence. A yawn left the Exo as he got himself comfortable on the floor of the Throne World, pulling his hood up to block out any light wanting to pierce his optics. His ghost came out from the backpack, twisting her shell some as she contemplated her guardian's actions in wanting to sleep beside the egg.

Fenik noticed how Wolf rested his hand over his chest where his spark resides, his heart. It didn't beat like a human, or Awoken's does. Maybe this action was a comforting one, a longing for the feel of something pulsing so soundly in a steady rhythm. Maybe it is a recalled memory back when Wolf was a human. Fenik gave up on trying to come up with reasons and decided to rest. She got herself comfortable within the crook of Wolf's neck in the hood; a little sigh left her before she closed her optic and drifted off.

[dollygirl808]

This is just a lil excerpt from the first chapter of a story I'm writing rn, called A Monster Ensemble. It's not out anywhere yet or anything, just wanted to share.

It's not anywhere near to being done yet, but. Yeah. I liked the kinda yandere vibes Bear (horror sans) was giving in this, so I wanted to share it. I may or may not have been influenced by a song I discovered recently that I love called the red means I love you, it's honestly so good and I love yandere vibe songs and yandere vibes in general.

(Lowkey wanna write a song fic but it's in the am's and I was supposed to go to sleep hours ago)

While the story isn't planned on being yandere, Bear will def have massive stalker/obsession vibes. But everyone else not as much, probably.

I adore yandere bois so much so it'll probably leak through more than I intend to. And Bear is super duper capable of killing ppl, and of course has, given his past.

And, do I have a size thing? Maybe.. he's only like. 10ft tall. And I only mention it like no less than 10,000 times.

Okie enjoy <3

Bear watched his tiny bunny from the other isle, his massive hulking frame easily seeing over the shelves even with his more hunched posture, his one good eyelight trained on her like, well, a predator.

That's what he was, wasn't he? A killer at his core, a vicious monster who could easily rip her flesh right from her bones, then break said bones with only two fingers. The tip of his lengthy bone tail twitched in aggravation at the thought, he didn't want to hurt anybody, especially not her.

His soulbond.

He was glad his brother wasn't here to chastise him for watching the girl from across the store like a creeper, because he really, really couldn't help it. She just looked so soft and fragile all the time.

Her little brown tail, a little heart-shaped fluff against the top of her ass, so small and cute. Above what was, of course, his favorite part of her squishy body; her rather round and thick thighs.

They squished together and against eachother as she adjusted her standing position, one leg barely lifting off the ground to tap her foot against the floor as she thought, the rapid motion making her plush thigh jiggle.

His slit-like pupil zeroed in on the movement for a moment, before his eyelight wandered the exposed length of her thighs and legs, racking over every curve of of flesh like he didn't see her in her work uniform often.

A light grey pair of denim overalls that hugged the curves of her ass and thighs perfectly, and was starting to fray in between her thick thighs.

Sometimes he wondered how her tiny fragile bones didn't collapse under her own weight.

Human bones just so small compared to his own, after all, and even though he was a twisted, corrupted version of his smaller self, even their bones were thicker and sturdier than humans.

Which of course, was an opinion he would never dare voice.

Eve was sensitive about her weight, after all. Which, he didn't really understand himself. What could be bad about having a lot to eat? It's a sentiment all of his clan had, a shared confusion at human's want to eat less and diet when they had access to all of the food.

Heh. Humans were weird like that.

One day, He thought, I'll be catching prey for you, my bonded. And Paps'll cook it, and she'll eat it, and he'll be the happiest monster on the earth, surface or otherwise.

He smiled lopsidedly, single hot-red eyelight going fuzzy and his cat-like slit of a pupil engorging until there was nothing but a ring of red on the outskirts of his love-strucken socket as he watched his little bunny fus over how many pots to buy for her future catnip plants.

Stars, she was so cute when she was trying to make a decision on something so impossibly mundane like it was the single-most important decision in her life, he could feel his cracked soul flutter happily, and call to her without meaning to.

And that's when she turned around, cute little eyebrows pinched in confusion at the tugging she felt in her chest (from her soul, but she didn't know that yet,) And her vibrant bubblegum pink eyes met his single eyelight, which immediately snapped back to its normal slit-like state.

He straightened his spine, head and shoulders rising above the top of the 7ft shelf, and her eyes followed, watching him dwarf the shelf with his massive 10ft frame with what could only be described as morbid fascinating.

She smiled warmly at him, welcomingly. And a twinkle of something more caught his attention in her expression. Something Bear easily recognized as lust.

Even if it was just a small amount of misplaced curiosity, whenever he displayed or did something to accentuate his overwhelming height and mass, she always got this look of want across her cute rounded features.

Like she was thinking about climbing him like a jungle gym, and that look pleased him greatly, so he made sure to stand tall and loom over her whenever possible.

So, maybe the bunny had a bit of a size kink? Little prey, lusting after a monster like him. It made him chuckle silently to himself.

Like a mouse watching a bear, the mouse couldn't possibly understand the danger she was in, and because a bear would never bother chasing after or catching prey as un-filling as a mouse, the mouse had no instincts to run. And the bear simply wouldn't be bothered by it just sitting there, as completely non-threatening and miniscule as it was.

Of course, this particular Bear had great interest in catching the little prey that was too caught up in his unsual and rare appearance to be fearful, and he would take great pleasure in playing a game of cat and mouse, chase her like prey, and when he caught her, he'd absolutely devour her without hesitation-

"Hey, Bear! Getting more plants for your garden of eden?" Eve asked with a teasing smile, and he blinked a few times as he processed her question.

"Yeah," Was all he managed to force out, but she didn't mind, and she just smiled bigger at him, her eyes nearly closing from the sheer intensity of it.

It made his soul flutter again, and also call out to her again, stronger this time. She made no outwardly acknowledgment of the feeling, aside from her left ear and her nose twitching at the same time.

Which, he found absolutely adorable and his pupil started to swell again with mirth, before shrinking back. "What.. ya doing?" Bear asked, as If he hadn't been stalking watching her for the past 30 minutes.

"Oh, I'm trying to decide how many pots will fit on my windowsill." She said, thumbing behind her to the brownish-tan pots on the top shelf.

Which were well out of her reach, and he thought about how he could offer to get them for her, and she'd be very thankful. His eyelight glowed momentarily with excitement at the thought.

So, he started walking to her isle, long, thick legs bent at impossibly inhuman angles making quick work to get rid of the distance.

Legs that were apparently 'digitigrade,' she had once told him when he asked if his appearance really didn't bother her.

"What? Of course not, Bear!" She had balked, tone offended, almost angrily so, as if she could ever thing something so horrible. "You look fine! I think having a super long, prehensile tail is pretty damn cool. And your legs are like, digitigrade! And your clawed feet remind me of a dragons, which are super duper cool, by the way."

That really wasn't the answer he had been expecting. "Pretty damn cool" was not an sentence he would have ever used to describe himself before that. But it made him so happy at the time.

"Heh... think so?" He had asked, tusks stretched wide in a pleased grin, eyelight trained on her so intensely it made her little bunny-heart race, and she had pouted at him and asked if he was just fishing for compliments.

He wasn't, but the angry stomp and huff she let out was too adorable to correct, so he agreed.

If he could still teleport at will, he probably wouldn't bother walking so he could be close to her sooner. But alas, he had lost that ability due to the incident, or more specifically, the massive hole in his skull.

Eve turned and contemplated the pots again, brown fluffy ears rotated fully forward in pure concentration.

Bear stopped next to her, body facing the isle, but eyelight watching her think. His tail came to wrap loosely around her boot-covered ankle, something he did often, and she didn't even spare him and ear twitch in his direction.

So, unafraid. A pleased smirk tugged at the sides of his tusked mouth, watching her be so comfortable next to him that she didn't even twitch at him wrapping her ankle up in his deceptively strong tail.

Stars, if he could be any happier his soul would probably leap from his chest and try to enter hers. He wondered if she would accept that.

"Three," Bear said simply, grufly, his deeper-than-normal voice a product of his harsh time underground. Just another corrupted deviation from the original Sans that made him so...

"You think?" Eve asked, looking up at him as her ears relaxed more to the side and her head tilted ever-so slightly to the side as well.

He only nodded, already reaching above her head to grab three of the pots and hand them off to his tail, gently curling into and around the small plant plots before setting them on the bottom shelf of her cart.

She huffed out an air of amusement from her nose, rolling her eyes, trying and failing to suppress her smile.

"Thank you, Bear," Eve said genuinely, setting a small hand on his radius, one of the two thick bones that made up his 'forearm.'

"No," He paused for longer than he ment, brain suddenly forgetting the word, but she didn't frown at him, or try to rush or finish his sentence for him, just waited and looked up at him with that gentle, patient smile is that nearly made him forget what he wanted to say.

"No, problem," Bear finished after a moment of staring at her face.

"Well, that's the last thing I needed. What are you shopping for? I could help you. Although, I dont know how helpful I could be given my apparent Black thumb," Eve rambled a little, and he couldn't help but find that adorable as well.

"Flowers," He told her, and she nodded.

"Something colorful for spring?" She offered, and he nodded, "Want me to walk with you?"

"Please," He said, and offered his arm, which she took without hesitation.

He smiled, and his tail let go of her to wave behind him happily as he grabbed the cart's handle with both of his massive hands, taking up all of the bar space.

So she was left to fiddle with the edges of her overalls pant leg while her other hand wrapped around Bear's blue jacket sleeve and they walked side-by-side, mostly silent.

Eve would occasionally make a comment about a particularly vibrant or pretty flower, and he would just nod along, or grab it and put it in his own cart, which he tugged behind him with his tail.

She tried to take her cart back a few times, but he just stood still while she tried to muscle her way, or pry his sharp claws off the bar, with zero luck.

She gave up after a few times and let him pull and push both carts, but made sure to express she could handle her own cart.

Bear bent down to grab the largest size of garden soil they had, a massive bag the size of Eve's chest. He picked it up with one hand, setting it in his cart without trouble.

The bunny tried not to gape at his strength too much, but she probably wouldn't even be able to pick up something that heavy, and he did it easily, single-handedly. It was hard not to be impressed.

"So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?" She asked, turning to face him as her free hand continued stroking the petals of a particularly soft plant.

"Looking for pretty," He said while staring down at her so intensely it made her look away.

He had to be doing that on purpose, right?! Neck bent completely so his skull was parallel to the top of her head, and he was looming over her, literally blocking out the bright lights above them and casting her face in a shadow as she tilted her own head fully back to look up at him.

It wasn't threatening in any way, but, fuck, it was really, stupidly hot. Did Bear even have the ability to think about doing something like that? Or was his habit of staring at her silently, so intensely her face flushed, because of his injury? He stared, seemingly expressionless to onlookers but she had gotten used to his subtle body language.

Most of it was with his eyelight and his tail, anyways. His tail would wave back and forth when he was happy, and sometimes even thump on the ground, bump into things or knock things onto the ground. The tip would twitch when he was mildly annoyed, and his entire tail would lash back and forth in a whip-like motion when he was pissed, which wasn't often.

His general cat-like slit in the center of his white-to-red gradient eyelight would grow rounded when he was particularly happy or content, or he saw something he really liked, like after a meal, or when she did something he found particularly cute. It would shrink to be skinnier and longer when he was angry, and it would become football shaped when he was concentrating, get shorter and rounder.

"A-are you looking for a particular color, Bear? Like blues, purples, pinks?" Eve asked, stuttering only a little at the beginning.

The monster stopped leaning over her, sitting back further and making himself a little smaller. "Pink. Pretty pink." He said simply.

"Pink is a great springtime color!" She squeaked out, and tried not to think about how he was grabbing lots of flowers with petals that matched the shade of pink in her eyes. It was just a coincidence, pink was a spring color, after all.

[autumnagain]

So I’m caught up on Critical Role and having some CONNECTING THE DOTS thoughts.

The Raven Queen ascended to godhood on an apogee solstice, supplanting the old god of death. Their names have both been erased from reality. Decades later, the archmage Vecna, creator of many powerful + destructive artifacts during the Age of Arcanum, attempts to recreate the Rite of Ascension on a celestial solstice but is interrupted and killed by an army of Pelor. The Rite of Ascension (also called the Rite of Seeding) is successfully performed by Vespin Chloras just before the next apogee solstice, instigating the Calamity.

Aeor was struck down during the Calamity when the Prime Deities and Betrayer Gods called an armistice to turn against it together, as Aeor had developed god-killing weapons. Parts of Aeor crash in Eiselcross, but at least one district of Aeor, the Cognouza Ward, plane-shifted into the Astral Sea to escape destruction either before or during the gods’ assault upon it. Cognouza encounters a psychic storm in the Astral Sea which “shatters every mind and spirit” in the city, turning the living people of the ward into a twisted hive mind, melded with the city itself.

The divine gate is consistently described as a “lattice weave”— the same kind of weave is wrapped around Ruidis. There is a city on Ruidis behind the red storm raging upon it, and potentially multiple forgotten gods locked away there. In one origin myth, Ruidis is a an alien power from another reality, and the prime deities and betrayer gods banded together to seal it away.

Delilah Briarwood was on the Cerberus Assembly as Archmage of Antiquity until an investigation by the Cobalt Soul into her use of necromancy lead to her flight from the Empire. She later resurrected Vecna, who re-attempted to ascend to godhood and was killed by VM. While serving Vecna, she was near-impossible to kill, as her soul continued to return to Thar Amphala rather than passing on. Her soul is currently riding shotgun inside of Laudna’s (I believe).

Vess de Rogna became the next Archmage of Antiquity, a position which concerns historical studies and research. De Rogna was particularly interested in pre-Calamity history and artifacts, and in her pursuits contacted the still-living hive mind Cognouza. She was marked by its eyes and compelled (either by her own ambition or its influence) to become its avatar, the Nonagon, until Lucien killed her.

Vess de Rogna and Ludinus Da’Leth were both researching the beacon which had been stolen from the Kryn Dynasty— the M9 saw her and Da’Leth in Felderwin and both Yeza and Luc mentioned that she had been the primary mage “working with” Yeza to extract dunamantic essence from the Beacon.

Da’Leth worked with Essek to steal the beacon from the Dynasty and research it, but we never learned what exactly his intentions were in this research. Essek expressed frustration at the deal, suspecting that they had certainly gained more knowledge through their research than what had been shared with him. Da’Leth’s co-conspirators in this scheme were Trent Ikithon and de Rogna, at minimum. Little is known of the true nature of the beacons, beyond their connection to an entity known as the Luxon, a being of light and possibility which pre-dates the gods of Exandria (and maybe Exandria itself).

Da’Leth is a survivor of the elven city of Molaesmyr, which was destroyed by corruption from an artifact from Aeor in 585 PD (about 260ish years before current day as of campaign 3). This artifact destroyed the city and corrupted the nearby Savalirwood. Quote “terrible fey creatures now call this city home” and the fey magics of the city and the Savalirwood have grown “twisted and dark”. Savalir means guilt in Elvish, it is believed that the curse was released in a labyrinth under the tower of Caes Mosor in the city, and the corruption of the trees was disturbingly similar to a subterranean, maybe sentient forest the M9 found while exploring the ruins of Aeor.

The Star Razor, a vestige of Divergence tied to the Wild Mother and the Moonweaver, was destroyed in a terrible battle in the ruins of Molaesmyr within the Savalirwood. The Moonweaver (Sehanine) is, of course, tied to the moon of Catha, whose cycles around Exandria are studied and recorded by elven astronomers. Sehanine often wanders the Feywild and is strongly tied to the Moontide Crown. There is also a weave-like barrier around the other, fucked-up moon.

Ira Wendagoth, the Nightmare King, is a twisted fey creature with some vested interest in Ruidis and whatever is happening with it. He stole the Moontide Crown from the telescope he used the Calloways to construct, is a member of neither the Seelie or Unseelie Court, is an inventor of dark and terrible artifacts, and (as a fun fact) shares a first name with one of the Somnovem of Cognouza. He built a telescope which is capable of seeing both leylines and the Weave surrounding the red moon, as well as something else the party did not see. An apogee solstice is about to occur, according to Hondir.

There is so much more going on (FCG is an Aeormaton! What is so threatening about the Grim Verity’s research that its members are being killed? Why did those same assassins attack the Ashari and kill Orym’s husband? Who is Otahan Thull and WHAT IS IN HER BACKPACK?) but these are the big things rattling around in my brain after last night’s episode.

Do I know what any of this means when put together?? NO. Am I saying the Nightmare King is one of the fey twisted by whatever happened to Molaesmyr?? MAYBE?? Am I feral about Da’Leth’s involvement and his still-opaque motivations?? ABSOLUTELY.

[mari-lair]

opinions and thoughts on terukane ghost hotel?

i think there concept or relationship in it is pretty interesting since akane is literally terus demon

OH BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS ON THE TERUKANE GHOST HOTEL AU

It's the only AU I have two vastly different takes that I am fond of.

The first take is that they are both a disaster but kind at their core: Akane was tricked by the clock keepers (they cursed his parents and made him sell his soul in exchange to break the curse) and became a demon.

Akane has the potential to be extremely powerful and dangerous but he promised himself to not fall to the same level as the demons that tricked him. He is so stubborn he actually managed to stick with his human morals. He never stole anyone's soul and ignored temptation like a pro, to the point he barely gets it anymore. This made him a relatively weak demon, but one that cares for others more than himself. Truly, he is a strange case, no one has ever seen a demon that is hard-working but not greedy. Akane can even be called nice when you get to know him. The hotel finds him weird but they like him. He is best friends with Aoi-chan, who is a fairy, so she doesn't fall in love or feel any attraction to anyone.

Teru is a full-time exorcist that never went to school, and was taught everything in a monastery, so he didn't have any friends. After Kou 'disappeared' Teru goes on a years long quest searching for him, he barely interacts with people in his travels, so he is atrocious at socializing and only good at rituals and killing. He traps Akane in a blood pact that makes it so Akane must obey his every order, and very quickly gets attached to him, trusting the demon so much he slowly stops using the pact's influence when giving Akane orders. When he gets a crush he falls hard and he has no idea how to flirt, his attempts are atrocious, Akane is very confused.

(I wrote a fic about this take if you are curious, it’s pretty old, but you can check it Here)

The second take is more messy and hostile because Akane takes someone's soul. He is more demoniac than human.

content warning for violence and manipulation below.

When the clock keepers trick Akane into selling his soul there is someone nearby. Akane is in terrible pain because of his demon transformation and all his senses are a mess, so when a curious stranger tries to check on him he ends up forcefully stealing the person's soul to satiate his hunger. It tastes delicious.

He regrets it when he comes to his sense and is determined to keep his human morals but his desire to taste a soul again is so strong he subconsciously twists his sense of what's 'right' to something more convenient without noticing, convinced he does the right thing by stealing the souls of criminals and other 'bad people', using his powers to help civilians and kill other demons.

The more souls he consumes, the more powerful and less human he becomes. His appearance stops changing after three souls, but his behavior constantly gets worse, until his core values become typical of a demon: greedy and selfish, even his hard work became a product of pure pride over time, with no desire to help others. He eventually hunts down Kako and Mirai, who are very powerful, and kills them to get what belongs to him back (his human soul). It doesn't work, you can't get your soul back after a monster consumes it, and the lack of rewards added with all the injures he accumulated in his battle with Kako and Mirai breaks something in him.

When Akane gets stuck in the ghost hotel, he is not a good 'person'.

Akane respects Aoi but he looks almost hungry at her, so she may had been intrigued by his arrival, but she doesn't like him, making sure they are never alone. His mood is also too volatile, he no longer has any souls to steal (monsters either don't have souls or their souls are corrupted) so he get greedy with other things: when he gets possessive with Aoi, the fairy loses her patience and poisons him, keeping her distance. The hotel doesn't like him, and he doesn't have any friends, but Hanako keeps him around cause he is the most hard-working and efficient employee.

Teru is the same in both takes, he was raised in a monastery and went on a journey to search for Kou, but this time, his blood pact with Akane is far tenser. Akane is an actual threat to him, so Teru's need to take various precautions in this pact, his orders having a strong grip on akane but they are not absolute. Even when Teru orders Akane to not hurt or kill him, he is still paranoid, well aware Akane may have trouble and even hurt himself if he tries to go against direct orders, but he have enough power and determination to try anyways.

Akane wants to eat his soul, and Teru knows, he never lowers his guard near him, his orders made to punish any of Akane's murder attempts. When Teru orders him to get him something to eat from the hotel kitchen, and Akane comes back with fruits or bread, he'll always tell Akane to "take a bite" as a test. If it's poisoned (it usually is) he'll order Akane to eat the whole thing, not taking any mercy on Akane when he gets sick from the poison, and punishing him if he fight against the order and doesn't finish the meal. It's a 'lesson' that makes Akane hate him more than anyone, but it does works: Akane eventually stops trying to kill him with poison.

Teru forces Akane to get him a room in the hotel instead of being gifted one, and he only allows himself to sleep after five days as a guest, when his room is so protected even a demon as strong as Akane won't be able to barge in.

Akane doesn't take too long to be attracted to Teru, it's not love, he still hates Teru's guts, and genuinely resents him, offended he is forced to obey the exorcist, but he finds him exceptionally beautiful in this gloomy hotel, and wants him to himself. Teru can sense it, and depending on his mood he is either completely intolerant and throws holy water on Akane's face until the demon burns or mock him for it, stabbing him and saying he'll give him a kiss if he be a good demon (he does not give him a kiss even when Akane acts good, Teru is just being a bitch).

He only ever kisses Akane when he is desperate and he can sense Akane is growing resistant to their pact, so Teru uses anything he can to tighten his leash and trick him into 'behaving'. At first, Akane is surprised but he doesn't take long to realize what his intentions are, establishing a strange exchange. They both bring out the worst in each other.

They are constantly on edge, it takes years for trust to form and when it does Akane is very possessive.

[bailey-reaper]

Could you do a drabble where Klint survives the duel and becomes somewhat of a vigilante who goes after the worst people in society?

The Reaper of London

Notes: Ooof... a trip on the old pain train, huh? Ok, first things first: I'm going to approach this from the angle that there are two sides to Klint's character – the good hearted man that he was known for being, and a pained side that feels betrayed by the world and is growing increasingly bitter and twisted. I'm not saying that Klint is psychotic or anything like that, but I do think he's a tortured soul whose inner demons have taken hold of him.

I've chosen to represent those aspects of his personality by writing thoughts / opinions in squared brackets [] and in red.

Content Warnings: violence; despair / depression; depraved behaviour

Truly... I am a man beyond redemption now.

I've spilled the blood of my dear friend, who offered me this chance to depart this world with honour –– I repaid his kindness with violence. I don't know how it happened: my intentions were to die this day, I had written my will in anticipation of my end.

Yet, when our blades crossed, I felt something come over me. A desperate feeling to survive; a savage opposition to giving up here. There's so much corruption in this world, how can I leave my family here to suffer it while I am off in the great unknown?

The idea of them having to deal with loathsome monsters, like Stronghart, is unacceptable. I know his influence all too well, and I cannot let the same fate befall Barok in the Prosecutor's Office. That is why I could not allow myself to die here...

[I have no doubt in my mind that the outcome of this duel is a sign –– that justice is on my side and that I should pursue it with my entire being.]

My friend is a swordsman of incredible skill and, in truth, I should have died by his hand this night. So either he held back or my will was stronger. I do not know which it is, but I shall not squander this chance...

I have already told my wife what I am and that I intended to die tonight. She has left, disgusted at me, for Dartmoor. I fear I shall never see her or my unborn child again but what I do next will keep them safe.

As for Barok, I could not tell him a thing: he would have wanted to help, he'd have joined me in the depths of depravity I'm sure. But he is made of stronger stuff than I, and I know this because I can see it in his eye. Even when the world is cruel to him, it never breaks his spirit... where as the world's cruelty has broken mine.

Wherever I look in London, I see cruelty and evil. I see a world that is ruled by vice and callousness. There are so many parasites at the core of this society, bleeding everything around them dry until they grow fat on their own hubris. I cannot allow that to persist, and if I must sell my soul in order to extract this canker then so be it.

Yet I know Barok would not walk this path, he is a young man of unparalleled integrity and strength. Even having beheld the ugliest parts of our society, he never once faltered or expressed a moment of weakness to me. No, Barok always chose to keep fighting where I chose to despair.

I cannot let him stoop to my level, so he cannot know the truth of what has happened –– nor what will happen.

[I have made my choice ––– from now on I'll bring about justice upon the worst of society and see them bleed for their crimes. They will pay with blood and tears for the wrongs they have committed. My path is just...]

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

Not long after the fateful evening in June, the Police concluded that Genshin Asōgi was 'The Professor' and that he was killed in a duel at the van Zieks estate where Klint van Zieks also lost his life. Distressingly for Barok, he was not permitted to see his brother's body because it had been burned; it was felt that such a sight would be too distressing for the young man to bear.

However, he was given his brother's singed prosecutor badge, which he repaired in order to wear in Klint's memories. Meanwhile, the charred remains were buried in the graveyard on the van Zieks estate.

As for Klint: he stalked the streets of the Capital in search of the members of society who believed themselves beyond reproach. He knew who they were, he knew them all, and he would quietly set about killing them one by one in brutal ways.

The curse of the Professor had been laid to rest, but this only gave rise to a new threat: The Reaper of London.

Most terrifying of all were the hysterical reports that those who died were killed by a single stab to the heart by a western sword and some witnesses reported seeing a man who bore a doppelgänger-like resemblance to the late Klint van Zieks.

As such, the capital was gripped by the sensational notion that Klint's ghost could not rest until the unjust and depraved were put in their graves...

[dent-de-leon]

Lucien >:)

First impression:

When Mollymauk is under zone of truth and admits he still gets these faint impressions of Lucien--and how much it terrifies him--I immediately knew the guy was more dangerous than any of the Nein thought. Molly doesn’t just talk about Lucien like a forgotten past, it’s more like someone feeling haunted by a restless spirit. “Whatever it was, it doesn't feel good when I--the moment when something creeps through, I don't like it. I don't want anything to do with it...I feel tinges of things on occasion. Nothing I like.”

As sweet as it is that Veth tried to insist that maybe "he" wasn't so bad before, that welcoming Lucien's memories into his life could be a comfort--I knew it was more than just a name and a troubled past Molly was running from.

Impression now:

Oh I love him. He's vicious. But I think he wasn't always that way. To me, Mollymauk seems like living proof that Lucien had a softer side once. I don’t think Lucien was ever really a particularly "good" person, or a kind person--Cree worshipped him, and she still calls him “charismatic in his cruelty.” But I think Lucien was just someone trying to get by once, a blood hunter who went rogue and then got in way over his head.

His soul splintering into pieces and the Eyes of Nine's influence makes things messy and complicated. I don’t think there’s anything much left of the original Lucien by the time we see him in Aeor. And I think there’s a reason why Cree called out for her friend Lucien instead of the Nonagon when she was at her most desperate. It’s fascinating to me that Matt said, “Molly really is the best parts of Lucien.” It makes me wonder if Cree would’ve liked Mollymauk more than the Nonagon.

Favorite moment:

The throne scene comes to mind immediately, and so does Lucien’s twisted echo of, “Long may I reign.” But I think my favorite is the tarot reading. Even though Jester is the one who really carries that scene, and Lucien stays very quiet and withdrawn, there’s just...something very genuine to him here. An earnest interest in the tarot cards, a desire to indulge in something the Nonagon ought to consider frivolous and beneath him, “Thank you. That was interesting. Always been oddly curious from a distance about such strange...hobbies. Thank you for indulging in the offer.” Remnants of the person Lucien used to be.

I love the tarot reading for the same reason I love that little moment when Yasha gives Lucien Molly’s clover. Anything that catches Lucien off guard for a moment, makes him apprehensive, more vulnerable, too keenly aware of that shard that’s Mollymauk--it always breaks my heart a bit.

Idea for a story:

I can’t get over Matt’s original plan for Lucien--following the Nein around as a spirit that keeps possessing other people’s bodies?? Chasing down Mollymauk to try to get the Eyes of Nine back?? Molly finally meeting Lucien face to face. The Nein killing someone in a big battle and then their corpse just wakes up and starts lumbering toward them, speaking in Lucien’s voice. The Nine Eyes slowly activating one by one, Molly being haunted by both the somnovum and Lucien, running from the rest of the Tombtakers, just--everything that could’ve happened if Mollymauk wasn’t gone so soon.

Unpopular opinion:

I think Lucien was the perfect final villain for the Nein. Mollymauk drew them all together, echoed in their memories for the entire adventure. And Matt said everything was always leading up to the Eyes of Nine, so to have a villain in a familiar friend that they all loved and lost, to have this fascinating mirror image of a corruption arc--getting glances of someone who’s so very eerily like Molly, but so very off-key and wrong--I loved it.

The all-seeing threat of Lucien and everyone still longing to reach for Mollymauk, to bring back the one person they couldn’t save, the party’s worst regret and too many loose ends finally tying together--there’s so much motivation to get everyone really invested in the endgame villain. And Matt just plays Lucien so well, creates this terrifying character that’s so charming and cutthroat and desperately trying to act like a god when he knows he’s still so very mortal.

Favorite relationship:

Despite how fascinated I am by the Tombtakers and the kind of dynamic they may have once had, it seemed to me like anything Lucien truly felt for them was gone by Aeor arc. Especially whatever his relationship used to be with Cree. With the Tombtakers, I’m more so interested in the past and what could’ve been. As for what we see in the present, it’s Lucien’s relationships with Jester and Caleb that really caught my attention.

I think Lucien’s interactions with all the Nein are so intriguing because I’m always curious how much of his feelings are his own, and how much is Molly’s fondness for his family bleeding through. When Lucien flirts with Caleb, is it just because he has a thing for handsome wizards too, or is that Molly’s attraction for him Lucien feels? I think a part of Lucien’s interest in Caleb is because he sees them as being a little too much alike, thinks maybe Caleb could be just as hungry for forbidden knowledge and power, just as driven and ambitious. For someone who claims to despise wizards, Lucien sure likes to behave like one.

And then there’s Jester. Whenever she talked to Lucien, it really gave me hope that maybe she could still reach some remnant of humanity inside him. If there was anything left in Lucien that could be genuine, I think Jester came the closest to drawing it out of him. They share a few moments where Lucien has this quiet sincerity to him. When Jester gives him the tarot reading and Lucien genuinely thanks her. When Jester is quick to call him dreamy, and Lucien gently reminds her that, “Not a lot of folks are eager and kind--especially in Shadycreek Run, growing up--to those of infernal blood.”

Jester asks if he trusts her, and he actually takes her hand and lets her polymorph him--loses himself in a few moments of pure playfulness and fun. Their little cat adventure is adorable, because it’s so ridiculous and simple and a kind of innocence that Lucien has long since lost. In moments like that, it’s easy to see how a part of him could’ve grown to be Mollymauk. Even if Lucien’s only interested in Jester and Caleb because he thinks they’re the easiest to manipulate--which makes Jester getting the HDYWTDT all the more gratifying--I think maybe the old Lucien would’ve felt for them.

Favorite headcanon:

I like to think Lucien was just as scared of Mollymauk as Molly was of him. When he started to twitch and feel that little fragment stir inside him, lashing out and fighting back--I hope he was absolutely terrified. I hope he realized Molly was real and that this “shattered fragment” of a soul was loved.

[gotmilk5101520]

The Onyx Shards and how the mind control works

Okay, so i’ve been doing some thinking about the Onyx Shards in Wizards and wondering how the hell does the mind control work.

Then something hit me about them.

The Onyx Shards are used by the Green Knight (King Arthur) to corrupt the victim’s heart. But it was only used on Jim and him and the others believe it would kill him. But i thought about it and came down to this.

It was suppose to kill him.

Wait, what? You heard me. The shard was suppose to kill Jim. So what happened? The answer is simple.

Jim was rejecting the shard. The Onyx Shard was a foil of the amulet. The Amulet of Daylight kept coming back when it’s rejected. The Onyx Shard would slowly kill them if they keep rejecting it. It wasn’t till Jim decided to let it in his heart that the shard transformed him. What happened was that Jim accepted the shard and it transformed him into his beast form.

But that’s just my theory on that part of the shard, let’s get back to the main topic. The mind control.

Remember how Beast Jim’s eyes and linings were red when he first transformed, then yellow, then purple, then after the Green Knight died they were normal? What was happening was the colors depend on who was controlling him.

Red: Merlin/The Amulet.

Yellow: The Green Knight/Excalibur.

Purple: Claire.

Normal: Jim.

The reason Jim was red was cause of the Eclipse Armor. If Jim was in his Daylight Armor then his eyes and linings would be blue.

Something else to keep in mind is that when Jim first transformed in episode 8 he was red. Then the Green Knight took control of him, turning him yellow.

But when we see Jim again he was back to red and started to attack the Green Knight only to turn yellow again and was fully under his control.

What happened was that Merlin and the amulet were controlling Jim and trying to keep him from falling under the Arcane Order’s control. But then the Green Knight ripped the amulet off of Jim and the Arcane Order destroyed it to bring back Morgana. With the amulet gone, Jim is gone. The Knight freed him. That’s what Jim meant, the Knight freed him from Merlin.

This is why Merlin says “There is no bringing him back!” Because he knows what’s going on through the amulet, and he sensed the amulet’s demise. That’s why he keeps telling Claire that saving Jim is hopeless.

And what does the Green Knight tell Jim? “You're nothing but Merlin's dog” Not just talking about being the Trollhunter, but because Merlin and the amulet were controlling him.

And then in episode 10 Jim would at times turn purple when Claire talks to him. The purple isn’t Jim fighting the Green Knight’s control, it’s Claire fighting the Green Knight to control Jim. That’s why Jim said things like “Get out of my head!” and “No! My soul belongs to the king!” Because Claire is starting to take control of him.

But here’s something to remember, when the Green Knight controls Jim he uses Excalibur, and for Merlin to take control it’s the amulet itself.

So how was Claire able to influence Jim?

The answer is she kissed him. Back in episode 9 when she went to the Shadow Realm to find Jim’s soul, she kissed him and that made Jim see her.

When Jim was turning into his beast form he was red for a brief while, cause his shadow form was in the armor meaning that what was left of the amulet controlled him. Then he turned yellow and was then being controlled by the Green Knight.

The Amulet is what turned Jim red, Excalibur turns Jim yellow, and Claire herself turns Jim purple.

When Morgana stripped him of his right to wield Excalibur it broke the Green Knight’s control on Jim, and now, Claire is the only one that can control him and he remains purple.

When Camelot crashed down, the first thing Jim did was protect Claire as she was the one who can control him.

But the Onyx Shard inside Jim was destroyed when the Green Knight died, thus freeing him.

But, it also killed him. The Green Knight was the one that impaled him with an Onyx Shard so when he dies, Jim dies too. If the Green Knight died before the shard got to Jim’s heart then Jim would likely not die.

Hey, they could’ve done an even more cruel twist where everyone that can control Jim (Merlin, the Green Knight, and even Claire) have to die for Jim to be free just to die shortly after. Merlin and the Green Knight are already dead, so if Claire dies then Jim is freed but then he dies with her. Kinda like Romeo and Juliet- Oh, wait.

But that’s just my theory, and i  may have an idea for an alternate death for the Green Knight that involves Beast Jim and my theory of the Onyx Shard.

[bigmeatymudcrabchitins]

A not-so-brief overview of my Skyrim Dova OCs bc i need to scream to the digital void about my ideas

Freyora Lind, more commonly known by her strange alias “Bjorne Icepick”

A Nord-eventually-turned-werewolf who orphaned during the Great War and taken in by a Dunmeri mercenary whose residence was in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. Grew up in a cramped boarding house setting among desperate mercenaries of varying backgrounds. Many of them would all come and go, but there was always some sort of a familial bond between them all.

From a young age she got in a lot of fights against people who insulted her for living in the Gray Quarter among the dark elves. Eventually she took a fight too far and was jailed for murder around 14, but was broken out shortly after by a band of masked vampires. Turns out some of her mercenary comrades unwittingly caught vampirism during a contract to clear out a vampire den and had to skip town, but not before ensuring one of their own wasn’t left to rot.

Lived in Cyrodil for about 15 years, but returned to Skyrim pursuing rumors surrounding a cure to vampirism, as her adoptive father would be nearing the end of his elven lifespan and had wished to die a normal death.

Seeing as she was literally a fugitive, and her long-belated parents were somewhat renowned for their battlefield prowess, she took on a false identity. AND an act to match it.

She’ll eat raw meat, chase prey with swords instead of using a bow like a normal person, harp about irrational conspiracy theories, and more. Everyone’s foul reactions to her outlandish act are plainly hilarious to her and only encourage her to act even stranger.

The alias “Bjorne Icepick” was simply the most ridiculous name she could think of.

Not the most morally outstanding. Besides drunken brawling, she’ll steal from anyone who angers her, even if it’s things she literally won’t ever need such as all the goblets in a household. It’s the pettiness that counts. “Try drinking your damn high-end wine now, jackass.”

Calls Dwarven Automatons “Gundams.” Including she herself, no one knows what that means.

Joins the Companions out of homesickness and a desire to fill in a gap that leaving home left.

Hasn’t bothered curing herself of lycanthropy because her whole schtick is being incredibly resourceful, and that includes using any means of power necessary. Still doesn’t fancy Hircine’s Hunting Grounds as her desired afterlife, though.

As her journey goes on, however, her lightheartedly eccentric face starts to fall off as a number of events push her to begin to question the legitimacy of her actions up until that point.

Some of which include the eventual death of her adoptive father (and how she was indirectly responsible for it even if it was what he wanted), Delphine’s ultimatum, the civil war as a collective, learning the tragic history behind the Falmer and the original Companions’ role in it, and killing of Vyrthur (no matter how much he genuinely deserved it).

She grows disgusted by herself down to the core. She takes to skooma to cope, and starts to be plagued by serious skooma-induced side effects. She ends up shutting herself away from all her responsibilities and distancing herself from her friends.

Does she get better? Maybe. I haven’t thought up anything past this point lol

Moureneris Alta

A very, VERY ancient vampiric snow elf, (though it’s notable she was born a considerable amount of time after the razing of Sarthaal)

Survived many atrocities. Stayed in isolation with a band of vampires for countless years out of sheer disgust for the nature of the sapient races. (I’ll explain her full story some other time. It’s pretty complicated)

She was abducted from her isolated lifestyle by a certain person i’ll talk about later. She managed to free herself south of Skyrim, and uh, walks right into that Imperial ambush. The rest is history.

Super ignorant to modern society as a result of centuries of isolation. Exploited for comedic relief. (“What in the name of Oblivion is a Cyrodilic Empire? Are you messing with me? And please, how does levitation magic simply get outlawed by this hypothetical Empire? What are you to do when you fall down a crevice? Just... let yourself perish? How degrading.)

She reintegrated herself into society with vengeance in mind under the belief that all humans are savage bloodlusting murderers who had to answer for their treachery. (And she was royally angry there was no Dwemer left to spite, but partially satisfied at the same time). But she grows conflicted after being shown genuine kindness, even as early as being freed from her binds in Helgen.

Subsequently has a very muddled redemption arc. Queue Dragonborn hero stuff

She has impaired vision, but she cultivated detect life magic to aid her in daily life and combat (think Hyakkimaru from Dororo ‘19 and his soul detection or Toph Beifong from ATLA and her seismic sense). At her peak, she can detect life from about a kilometer away.

She can just barely read, but only if she holds the text incredibly close to her face, not to mention her Cyrodilic lessons were left unfinished after her abduction, making reading a very taxing process. Weary travelers are often spooked at the sight of a floating, ghastly looking elven woman with her nose pressed up against crossroad signs, and it has become somewhat of an urban legend.

Isn’t as nearly as skilled with detecting the dead and tenses up in burial crypts or around other vampires for that reason. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn and all, she finds herself in a lot of crypts...

When questioned about her background due to her unique appearance: “Oh, yeah. My mother was one of those mer from the east. You know the ones. Dark elves, I think? And my father was one of those er, tall elv- no, sorry, HIGH elves. Yeah. They both died in a big fire or something though. It was horrible. I can’t get the noxious smell or the deafening screams out of my head. Good talk, but never ask me about that again.”

Queue sheltered old immortal antics: “Wow, you’re THAT old? Enlighten me on how it felt witnessing the fall of the Dwemer. Or perhaps the rise of Tiber Septim’s Empire. The Gates of Ob-“ “Oblivion if I know. I lived in someone’s basement for thousands of years. And I still don’t know what everyone means by Empire. You all are messing with me, aren’t you? That really annoys me.”

She ultimately returns to faith in Auri-El and makes it her life’s purpose to help the Betrayed find peace, as well as to seek out any remaining snow elf groups. Probably good friends with Gelebor or something.

Had a crush on Serana. We all know how THAT went. Damned temples.

Was originally gonna spiral into a much darker corruption arc (another ATLA comparison being Jet or Hama) but I just felt bad for her. Moureneris can have a little found peace. As a treat.

That’s her preliminary design made. I’ll need a mod to properly play her, because that right there was made by choosing Dunmer as her race. But I can’t do that. I’m on console, and while I got the Steam port a month ago, my PC’s stone age specs can’t handle Skyrim yet and I’ll need to wait until I can afford a better graphics card (thanks economic inflation)

Alexandre Armasi, jokingly nicknamed Alexandre the Curious

A complete and unapologetic export of my character from a dead and unfinished DND campaign. Except there are no Aasimar in Skyrim, so he’s half Altmer half Bosmer. And his initial last name was Armas but I thought Armasi suited his Skyrim counterpart more, as subtle a change it is.

He’s mainly Bosmer in appearance and constitution, save for his hair and eyes, which are more similar to that of his Altmeri father’s.

I can’t really export his original backstory though because the campaign wouldn’t translate well into TES lore at all.

He’s a writer who came wandering into Skyrim in search of inspiration. While he mainly writes dramatic fables, he wanted to divert his focus to crafting his own bestiary and herbal compendium surrounding Skyrim’s fauna and flora. The ones at home are simply too vague to him!

He’s very altruistic, wishing to spread cheer wherever he goes, through the art of song (even though he was a cleric in DND and not a bard. My bad.) However, many of his verses are just blatant self promotions of his published fables.

But he’s too naive for his own good. Dangerously so. In fact, he says what’s on his mind with little forethought, with little grasp on the consequences of his actions, which lands him in lots of trouble. “I don’t favor him myself, but you guys kill people over Talos worship? That’s not very cool. A bit scary, if you ask me.” or “A Stormcloak rebel? Didn’t your leader kill a bunch of Reachmen rebels years back, or so I’ve heard. By the divines that’s not a man I’d make a symbol of nonconformity.”

He’s also insatiably curious. The type to ACTUALLY shove alchemic ingredients in his mouth with no knowledge of their properties, experiment with dangerous rune spells, throw rocks at pressure plates, and more. Needless to say he’s very accident prone.

Doesn’t know common curse words. People exploit this for laughs. Think that episode of Spongebob.

Everyone is a little baffled that HE of all people is the prophesied Dragonborn of legend. This agonizingly imbecilic writer who has absentmindedly wandered into burial crypts, troll dens, bandit forts, and more, too busy juggling his manuscripts to pay attention to his surroundings.

His past doesn’t exactly reflect his outlook on life. His mother and father fought in the Great War aligned with the Imperials despite their elven background. Both managed to live to see the war’s conclusion, but his father vanished without a trace shortly after, and it seems his mother knows something she won’t tell him.

With plenty of exposure to bad influences, his innocence is slowly lost throughout the course of his journey, and his altruism begins to grow twisted. But nevertheless, he maintains his jovial, social persona, except this time with much darker undertones. Kinda like a creepy dentist or something.

Whoops. He winds up becoming a feared Dark Brotherhood assassin. (Haha get it “Innocence Lost”???) He somehow deluded himself into thinking that the life of an assassin was the right thing to do. But he’s a funky little guy so he gets a pass for his heinous crimes against society

[kryptsune]

Souly Damned Saturdays!~

🌼 Hello everyone! Welcome to another SD Saturday! Today is going to be another character profile, a timeline, and some info on one of the stories within the world! As always if you are interested in my original work please reach out! I love answering questions about all this work. Let’s get into it! 

~Prince Profile:~

True Name: Saketh Alias Names: Costello Nicknames: N/A (he usually rarely even uses his true name as he prefers Costello far more) Soul Flower Type: Rose in Full bloom          Color Type: Fire Gold mix with Burnt edges Infernal Hierarchy: Crowned Prince of Lust Age Order: 2nd Oldest Familiar Form: (Raven) - A large black feathered bird with eyes and talons of golden fire. True Form Appearance Description:          ~Skeletal in appearance          ~Prominent fangs (spiked teeth in true form)          ~White horns similar to an antelope (more twisted)          ~Fingers with black clawed tips          ~Golden eyes          ~Pointed gold tongue          ~ Stereotypical spaded tail with a black to white gradient          ~ Two sets of wings                          ~White to black gradient and edged with blue fire                     ~When in enraged they are fully engulfed in blue fire

Human Form Physical Description:       ~Hair Color: warm tone Platinum Blonde       ~Hair Style: Short, falls to ears, whip dip       ~Glasses or Contacts: From time to time, more Rectangular frames       ~Eye Color: Fire Gold       ~Skin Tone: Pale       ~Contract symbol mark placement: His left side, junction between neck                                                                        and shoulder.       ~Height -- 6’3”

Special Abilities or Powers --

        ~Mind reading         ~Can pull out deepest desire            ~Dream walking         ~Veritas (forces those under his influence to tell the truth)         ~Trust (will gain the trust of those touched)          ~Mental Suggestion         ~Lust Touch            ~Levitation          ~Teleportation         ~Fire/Dark element         ~Conjuration (more below cut!)

~SD Q AND A (These are all questions from you! Specifically those in my server):~

1. What was Costello like before he became an infernal?

💛 Costello used to be a Celestial of love just like Val. If you split love into two separate entities it would be the passionate romantic side and the side that is all about protection and devotion. These types also reflect in both Costello’s and Val’s Infernal sides. Costello is more about seduction and Val is about possession and obsession. As brothers they tend to work together in their celestial sides. When they fell they split a bit.

2. When he isn't busy what does he do in his spare time?

💛 Oh thats easy! During his time in the Mortal Realm he spent a fair amount of time in the 1920′s era. It is where his style comes from mainly and why the Lust kingdom appears to have that kind of influence within it. He used to be a charismatic bartender during prohibition and that has kind of stuck with him. He enjoys crafting new drinks both for mortals and Infernals (since they can’t get drunk off regular alcohol). He is also an avid reader.

3. What kind of stuff does he read?

💛 Hilariously he enjoys supernatural romance novels because they fascinate him. Why would mortals be interested in a being that could literally end their life easily? As one such being he finds it both amusing and curious. He also reading them to see what mortals are uh... "into". Other than that he likes reading anything supernatural/gothic fantasy based for “research”.

4. Does Costello share the same view on humans as Val?

💛 Val and he at one point help similar enjoyments fo mortal kind. They found that they were were entertaining and rather sweet to observe when falling in love. When they fell all they saw was darkness not just from mortals but also themselves. How lust overwhelms your thoughts and drives you to commit certain acts. Their opinions grew apart when Val was corrupted by their father, Darrius. They only were both brought back due to their brother Nas and the mortal they meet later in time, Evelyn Rodgers. Their nickname for her is Starlight.

5. Does Costello like animals?

💛 Yes he does! He has a specific affinity for the raven. 

6. Does Costello have a favorite drink? Alcoholic and non alcoholic.

💛 He enjoys most drinks but specifically a Galaxy Cocktail but with an Infernal twist. When it comes to non-alcoholic I would say that he is more of a coffee connoisseur so things like Mocha. He enjoys sweet things but not to the level that Val does. (btw that cocktail looks like this)

7. Would Costello be willing to befriend humans?

💛 Before the fall, absolutely but after the Fall and before Eve? No. Humans are just tools for his amusement and entertainment. I should mention that Costello while his father is in power goes off the rails... and is extraordinarily dangerous only when Nas pulls him back from that does he mellow out. During the 1920's he still has a superiority mindset and a master of emotional manipulation. He is however far...FAR more mellowed out at this time which is why he humors Eve the first time they meet.

8. What are Costello’s responsibilities in his kingdom? 💛 It really depends on when in the timeline you are asking about. If we're talking before Nas ascends to the throne of the realm? Then Costello's duties were much less. He assisted Nas who was High Prince of Lust at the time. He studied and learned, ready to take over for Nas if the other needed to leave or otherwise. Now that he is High Prince himself? His duties include the hefty amounts of paperwork ensuring every soul is accounted for. New souls that hold purity to fall under Nas' new ruling, getting where they need to go if they landed in his kingdom. He also handles some punishments for the wicked. He has to run the entirety of Lust kingdom. Valentine... yanno... somewhere... X’D (trust me he probably isn’t the best one to ask)

~Souly Damned Timeline~

Creation of the Realms: The Celestial, Infernal, and First Mortal Realm come into being. The Infernal realm is closed off leaving the Celestials to guide and shape humanity. There are intermittent wars with the Infernal beasts and Imps when they manage to break their gates. The garden of Paradise was also created at this time which houses those most loyal to their “gods”. It is also a fact that the Celestial blooded creatures were created at this time (unicorns are a good example, light fantasy creatures). They were placed in the Garden.  

The Celestial Civil War: Darrius and his sons rebel against the ways of the Silver City only to be stricken to the Infernal Realm. After this event the gates to the Celestial Realm are shut and mortals are forced to fend for themselves. 

The Rise of the 12 Princes: The now fallen Celestials begin to corrupt the souls of the mortals present being known as the Seven Deadly Sins. The mortals are easily swayed by their new rulers dubbing them King and Princes. Each one with its own people and territory to preside over. In this time the Princes begin to succumb more deeply to their darker sides, now shunning their once Celestial blood. 

Blood Moon: A period of time in between the rule of the Princes in the First Mortal Realm where 4 Princes began to experiment cruelly with their own corrupted blood and the mortal soul. The Infernal blooded hybrids come from this part of the timeline such as vampires, werewolves, and the fae.

The Vinculum Infernalis (Witches/Warlocks): With the Celestials gone the mortals were now forced to fend for themselves. In desperation they plead with their Fallen overlords to aid them. A blood binding contract was struck between them giving them magical abilities and a new tie to the Infernal Realm. This was also the creation of the first covens.

Maintaining the Balance (Hunters): Enraged by the tilt of the balance of the universe in Infernal favor the Celestials decide to form a similar bond with mortals creating the first Celestial blooded humans. They would eventually be called the Hunters as their “divine” task was to eradicate the First Mortal Realm of the Infernal Blooded abominations now that the Princes favored the newly created realm.

Long Live the King no more: After millenia of creating havoc and bloodshed without consequences the Princes begin to doubt the leadership of their father. They have slowly changed their mindsets about mortals all together after so much time. Instead of destroying everything in sight and soaking the earth with blood they begin to have an attachment. Their fathers' ways are despotic so in response to this Nasaros, the eldest, usurps his throne.  A second war is waged between those of Infernal and Celestial blood turning the First Mortal Realm into an almost apocalyptic wasteland filled to the brim with monsters and ruins. The Princes lose the war doing substantial damage to the Celestial Realm. It was no longer habitable and so a new balanced realm was created for the mortals to live in peace without fear of Celestial driven war or demonic influences.  

The Locking of the Gates: The gates of the three Realms are shut and locked in the beginning of the birth of the New Mortal Realm. The Princes are forced to make a new Kingdom within the Infernal Realm to which they have been banished. This forms “Hell” in which the decisions of a mortal's life determine where they go. If they revel in the original 7 sins then they are placed in the kingdom in which they over indulged in. The silver City was once again open to those of virtue but only after death. With no direct interference from either side the humans evolved and advanced on their own. This is what we know as the world today while the First Mortal Realm was now labeled as an in between realm. One that would eventually be called Purgatory, the realm of beasts, monsters, and the supernatural.

Bloodswap: A story set after the time frame of Blood Moon and the creation of the Hunters. It is about 2 brothers that become infected with a vampiric blood that is now turning their town to shambles. The gates have been sealed and those forced to live in Purgatory struggling to survive. The mortals have progressed slowly despite being an older realm. They are currently in what we would consider the middle ages with the help of Celestial technology. Once the gates are unsealed for the New Mortal Realm a new world order begins to form. (Crimson would be proud of his new vampiric race that has slowly taken over Purgatory, now more civilized as the rulers).

The New Mortal Realm and Purgatory: Purgatory remains in ruins though there are mortals that live in this apocalyptic wasteland of a world. That also includes monsters and hunters. Over the Centuries cracks within this forgotten realm have released some of its inhabitants into the New Mortal Realm (NMR). The original bloodline of the first covens also were able to make it into this new world fleeing from Purgatory with the help of their Infernal masters. The Mortal Realm is now in the modern day where many of the Infernal or Celestial blooded mortals or beasts hide in plain sight. Even some of the most vicious have adapted to this new apparently “magic-less” world.

Note: The gates are no longer locked indefinitely for either of the two main realms; this is why demons are able to make contracts with foolish mortals. The Celestials have been forbidden from interfering for fear of repeating the past but that does not mean that they do not do so. It is rumored that around the world are organizations created to combat in secret those Infernal blooded that lurk in the dark. Meanwhile the covens are more focused on their own material pursuits having been persecuted for centuries (Salem Witch Trials as an example).

Ossibus Inferni (1920’s; NMR):

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Main Plot Synopsis: During the era of the 1920’s a young lady named Evelyn Rodgers finds herself thrown into a Hellish Civil War. She is a small PI (Private Investigator) hurting for cash and jobs in a place wrought with problems. In an effort to make a better name for herself she begins to investigate the rise of crime and strange occurrences happening in her city. There are suspicious disappearances, missing persons reports, and extra violence that couldn’t be missed by human eyes, right? It just does not seem to add up. Determined and with nothing to lose she is able to put together a series of connections by using some none to savory contacts. 

She finds out that the potential epicenter of these events are tied to owners of one of the swankiest and popular clubs in town. It is suspected that it is a speakeasy but that is not what has drawn her attention. It would appear that the family running the place have been a mystery to nearly everyone even though they have been around longer than they can recall. No one knows what the owners look like due to usually having their signature fedoras on. Ones that she can place all around the city through various photographs. It could be anyone, right?

Regardless of the information that she has collected she decides to go undercover to the club, Ossibus Ignem (Fire and Bone), in order to confirm her suspicions. She decides that auditioning for one of their most prized gigs is a good way to get into their inner circle and perhaps get a glimpse of her potential employers. Eve wants the truth and nothing but the truth though this plan is incredibly risky. Even if the brothers, as she finds out later, are not the cause of these events they could still be nefarious. No one likes a spy, especially one that’s gained their trust.

As she enters she realizes that it is packed like the rumors have told her. She does not get out much due to her job but she is dressed to the 9s in a beautiful dress of the time ready to put her plan into effect. Instead of waiting around she heads to the bar where she is spotted by the seemingly charismatic bartender which she manages to strike up a conversation with. She tries to pick his brain over a drink that he generously slides her way. It would seem that the establishment is already breaking the laws of Prohibition. That much is already confirmed.

He seems like the friendly sort, platinum blonde hair and a dazzling smile. Eve being a PI calls into question how perfect he actually looks but puts the thought off. She could have sworn his eyes were far more vibrant than what was humanly possible too. When she glances at him again however they appear to be a light brown instead. Things are already strange as she continues to speak with him only to find out that he is in fact one of the brothers that work at the club. It turns out to be a family business. He introduces himself as Costello -. 

Eventually their conversation is cut short by Costello taking her to the back of the house where presumably his brother is waiting for her to do her little gig. She paces back and forth nervously in her dressing room only to not watch where she is going, running into a tall individual. His pinstripe suit, fedora, and bright red tie cause her to pause only to be greeted with a shiny golden toothed smile. The strange thing about it is that it is shaped into a fang/ canine tooth. It is a little off putting but the stranger introduces himself as the younger brother of the group, Valentine -.

This is someone that she had no doubt is in all the photographs that she had collected. Ultimately he seems nice enough telling her that if she needs anything to let him know and to take her time with her audition. He does appear to have a mischievous flirty side to him especially with her which she tries to distance herself from. He does not make that easy as she can tell he has already taken a special interest in her. 

She performs and it would seem that she has a pretty singing voice that leaves the entire crowd roaring in applause. This obviously catches the eyes of the brothers and she gets the gig. Other than a few of the accidental slip ups the boys seem fine with her being around them. She doesn’t pose any threat. After all, she is only human. 

Eve begins to enjoy her undercover position but finds herself slipping further and further away from her original objective. The - family puts her up in the loft above the club and treats her well. She learns more about them and more about the family itself. They are pretty open with what they do not even hiding the crime lord status that they are under. Being associated with the brothers is dangerous and therefore they want to make sure she understands what it means to be under the name of -. 

She is surprised by their honesty and immediately they gain her trust and vice versa. That is until she realizes why she is there in the first place. After one of her performances she manages to get into Valentine’s room, snooping around. Only to find something she wasn’t expecting of a bunch of crime mafiosos. Instead she finds arcane symbols, tomes, and various other occult items that would lead her to the conclusion that they are in fact dealing with something far beyond the mortal realm. At least that is what she thinks. 

The concern only grows when she finds a secret room with even more devilish items. One such item is a series of documents showing the various victims she had been investigating. On top of that information she finds even darker dealings then she suspected and papers scrawled with a script she has never seen before. As she turns to leave the room she freezes to hear Valentine’s voice. He is none too thrilled as he interrogates her but she can’t see his face. All she can feel are skeletal like claws at her shoulders. It’s all in her head right?

When he turns her around she is faced with him looking quite human explaining to her the predicament she now finds herself in. As her confusion grows he keeps her cornered only to be given two choices. One is that she binds her soul to him in the form of a contract and the other, death. Obviously she chooses to live. After this event she is able to see the true forms of all the Infernals in the club, having a panic moment seeing them mingling so easily with unsuspecting humans. Valentine, Luciano, and Costello are the most terrifying in form as they are skeleton looking Infernals. From then on she works in the club learning more and more about their true selves.

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[sophi-s]

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

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Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I  P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body… 

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

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It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

[staggeringsmite]

HELLO! just finished properly listening to your (amazing!) corruption arc playlist! I have many thoughts, and so I wanted to ask you about specific moments and/or characters that you associate with songs (as mentioned in your tags), as I am simply SO intrigued. (did you have certain songs that were added for certain character(s)? were any songs for specific what if's? etc.) also, please consider this a free pass to ramble about anything related to the playlist that you wish. it is SO excellent!!

AHHHH!! thank you jade (both for the compliment and the free space to yell about my thoughts here because when i get playlist brainrot i get it Bad <3) // the playlist in question

i think i'm genuinely going to do a song-by-song thoughts below the cut, but here are some overview thoughts/associations if you don't wanna read all of that or don't have the time!

overall this started with athena by nova twins! i thought the sp*der imagery and overall vibe was great for a more sinister look at the wacky (mostly) chaotic neutral party as they are, just going full lolth. i wanted the pacing to be semi-slow and then drop into the more rock-heavy reckless villain-y section before moving into a (?) bittersweet? i guess? end that feels a bit more like a question mark of if it was worth it.

i think this party is full of extremely interesting motivations to side with an evil power for their own gain/the benefit of the people they care about, and each one of them has a very complex relationship with that so things spun wildly out of control as a thought about this.

for songs i associate with specific characters here's an overview, but you'll notice there aren't a lot for fy'ra rai or orym which i get into a bit more in the song-by-song:

all: i come with knives, into the spin, steady/steady, control, bad dreams / lolth: million years, athena, diggers / dariax: diggers, plenty, hollow / dorian: athena, grenadine, dangerous / fearne: plenty, you should see me in a crown, black wave / fy'ra rai: home / opal: home, grenadine, black wave, you should see me in a crown / orym: i'm not calling you a liar, dangerous

song-by-song >:)

1. i come with knives (acoustic) - this song, zoowee, so i went with the acoustic version because i think it's a nice slow but sinister start and it very much gave me the feeling of whenever you begin as a character to question taking this kind of power, that is a Source yes that you can do whatever with but is rooted in temptation and associated with evil, is there any real justification for that which is not in some part selfish. "i come with knives and agony to love you" if that isn't the chosen ones to a T in their overall reasoning for even considering a deal with lolth. and as much as that may be rooted in care, and wanting to be strong and powerful enough to protect the people they care about, it is a painful way to love when you really choose that path once and for all.

2. into the spin - this one is based on "slow climb but quick to descend" and i love the instrumentation as a part of the overall vibe, but it's about sowing the seed here. planting even a hint of consideration in accepting the power of the circlet and lolth's words is going to need time for the person to mull it over, but once it's on it is On baby.

3. million years - this is what i mean by All In Baby, and while it isn't the playlists narrative point of anyone actually accepting the power for good, it is a glimpse intended to shake things up after an 8 minute slow start with the first two songs, and this is all about lolth who is a Chaotic Evil entity, who is a reckless and hauntingly destructive force <3

4. home - "everything you made will end up broken" i think this song to fy'ra rai is more of an omen, of everything that she cannot fix but wants to, knowing that she cannot make choices for the group and seeing the potential path they could wind up on and knowing that fundamentally if they go that way it is their decision no matter how much it will hurt her - for opal there is SOMETHING about the tone of this song that feels very much like her, and the complete lack of care it seems to have to rattle off mundane things to the intimate drama of the place, to omens, to demands/declarations i think it shows her personality well and how that pairs with a chaotic neutral entity being offered something like the power of the circlet

5. steady, steady - idk if this is necessarily everyone but the mix of you know when you're ready and i am ready to be the one, this is the song about taking the leap and grabbing for power and/or fy'ra rai and orym's feelings of diving in with them or resisting/leaving them

6. diggers - for lolth this is just the consistent "i've been waiting for you" in the bg which i found fun and disconcering but also i think this is the perfect party and perfect storm for her to convince someone to use the circlets power >:) - for dariax! it seems with what we know he doesn't really know that he is a divine soul sorcerer? unless that is a show he is putting up. still, i feel like him carrying the circlet is Very interesting as someone with a divine bloodline who is in a way being given/chosen for that type of power holding onto this artifact born from evil and perhaps being tempted by it & i think this song works as an interesting back and forth for him with the strange double-entity grab for him in a way

7. athena - truly just a banger that fit the vibes wayyyy too well and started this whole thing, it's loud and reckless and out for blood babey <3 - i think i associate it with dorian mostly because i also associate it with lolth and he is the closest to really taking that leap in canon (and also probably the first one the go if we're following this playlist like a story with everyone/most everyone going corrupt, though it can be read truly infinite ways these are just compiled songs) i think it has a certain flair and appeal that just makes me Feel like it's the song that would play the second dorian puts the circlet on (which! fun fact! decreases your charisma by 2! have fun beloved bard!) - i think it's a very intense conversation

8. i’m not calling you a liar - okayokayokay it's orym thought time bc there are sooo many worlds and routes for orym here and i truly have no idea where he would even end up in this hypothetical. do i think that orym loves these guys and wants to protect them? yes. do i think that he may genuinely take the pain of loving them and keep his morals by walking away and/or turning on them if they all go evil? maybe. do i think he also might love them enough to throw that away? maybe. in a party of all chaotic neutrals besides him without fy'ra rai he is surprisingly the wild card here. while they have each other and no one else, he has the teachings and wisdom of the voice of the tempest and a moral compass that does not align with theirs at all. so, something has to give! dorian's slide into chaotic neutral was natural, but i think orym would be giving up Much More of himself to let himself slide from neutral good to chaotic neutral. i have no answers only sad, sad hypotehtical questions and scenarios so i will just, leave you with "and i love you so much, i'm gonna let you kill me." - this song also comes here before the storm of the 3-5 because whatever way he goes i think orym sees it all happen before anyone else does.

9. grenadine - Do Not Tell Me You Couldn't Hear villainous opal and dorian say the lines "what a big heart i have, i'll be your savior now. what a real catch i am, all the more to pull you down." - i see this song as playful but more genuine for dorian in terms of Truly Really believing any action he does to protect his friends is justified and good to him in his eyes whereas this is a very playful song for a villainous opal - they both give off this vibe strongly though (could see this one for fearne as well but don't have a good a justification)

10. black wave - helloooooo my favorite druid and warlock?? going apeshit with power? more so than they already are on a day-to-day basis (esp given episode 6 combat)? that's what this song is about. "stumbling down the street i swear to god you don't wanna test me" - i also think they both have an interesting question with "what do i believe?" with fearne being of the feywild which is a place of considerably different moral standing to exandria and opal being so young that she doesn't have the world figured out at all <3 terrifying and upsetting when you get into those questions on a corruption arc <3

11. you should see me in a crown - okay i knooooow this one is on the dorian playlist BUT vibes for my brutal babes <333 something about opal’s whole personality and fearne confronting the mirror self But eventually choosing/heading down the path anyway?? impeccable i love it there’s very few other thoughts here

12. control - OKAY not only does this song Fuck but i put it as party wide because i think it transitions nicely into the end of the mix which is more of the “questioning this decision after going all in but not being able to turn back/was it all worth it in the end?” part - i mostly love the “though i like the idea of providence... i’m in love with control” repeated because! i think the circlet is very interesting in that it has been iterated many times over that though it has connections to lolth and she has some claim/twisted abilities with it, it IS just a power source. so, the idea of going all in and accepting this power is an incredibly interesting dilemma of “who’s in charge here? did you really put it on/would you have without these dreams and lolth’s influence? are you really in control?” i think this song really represents that admission/delusion of control in this situation.

13. plenty - okay this song in any context is just my Feywild/Faerie Vibe song so i think this trails back to my feelings about fearne leaning into that different set of fey morals along a corruption arc, and as for dariax i think this is about abundance! following through that mixture of divine power source and chaotic evil god origin over dariax and his chaotic history of vast and varied experiences in emon, i think this very much befits a corrupt version of him.

14. dangerous - this song makes me insane, and the first reason i put it on the mix was the “the dead are true believers. rest assured. we are all believers” really just made me think of a terrible and cinematic moment of them discovering the circlet with the dead aboard the ship ESP in the context of this playlist’s narrative where that was the point they were destined to claim its power and go through their corruption arc - “how does it feel to be your own deceiver?” is the main reason and feeling as for why i made this a dorian song as well in line with “don’t worry i would do anything for my friends.” bc i personally find dorian’s corruption arc to be disillusioned with his own intentions and takes a lot of convincing himself that taking this power for his friends is noble in the scope of this group’s collective morals and self-interest in keeping each other safe and prosperous so <3

15. hollow - woowee dariax corruption, at least in this scope, i think is very frightening to me in that i think he’s going full maximalist, abundant, greedy, impulsive chaotic evil if we’re realllly leaning into a villain arc but still many of those things if we’re just going “this group is the only thing that matters and i’ll do anything for them no matter the cost” - i also think this song has a tone of resentment towards this? apprehension a bit? recognizing that this is how the person singing is but not entirely enjoying or feeling justified in it? as impulsive as dariax is, i think he cares A Lot, and is even a character i could see pulling a reverse dorian and going chaotic good in a different story than we’re in? “so simple when i was younger” and “i’d be a dancer of a different tune” really give me angsty dariax vibes in the height of his corruption arc

16. bad dreams - “don't you worry about your bad dreams cause I'm not in them. don't you worry about what change brings cause you can't stop it.” WOOF i don’t know that this one really needs to be explained but it’s the climax and the descent all in one of the party/corrupted individual being too far gone in their decision to step back or be saved. i think the tone of the song lends itself well to a mixture of uncaring but also giving some question to if they regret it or not based on the narration of the crowd against them.

[xxanimecoolgirlxx]

Warning, pretty dark content for this one! There may be themes like mentions of depression, death, abuse (physical and other kinds), and other things that might make some viewers uncomfortable, if so, move on for this post! Things mentioned may not be for the fate of heart. I also want to make it a point that i do not condone any behaviors mentioned in this story. This whole storyline for this is pretty dark so keep that in mind.

Anais watched on with soul sapped eyes from atop her ivory throne at she watched her 2 year old daughter bounce about the room, playing with her imaginary friends no doubt. Any other mother would probably be ecstatic at the prospect of playing around with their toddler daughter, establishing a strong bond between mother and child. Not just leave them alone most of the time to their own devices.

But then again, Anais hadn’t had the strength to do much of anything. Physically or mentally. Life just seemed so dull, so grey. What would be the point of doing.. anything? She barely had the headspace to take care of herself, let alone a small child. A child she never wanted to begin with.

She tried not to resent her daughter, Magenta. She swore that she loved her, she truly did. But she just was a constant reminder of him. Her pale skin, her dark eyes that seemed so innocent yet somehow so dark at the same time. She couldn’t describe it exactly. It was just.. there.

But she knew she couldn’t blame Magenta for the transgressions her father had committed, that would’ve made her just as much a monster as him.

She remembered before him, she was a practitioner in the art of magick. A member of a fairly large community that called themselves “The Whisperers of Fate.” specifically. Some called it a cult, with strict rules that bond its members with the threat of harsh punishment and banishment for disobedience.

Back then, she ignored those rumors. She had learned so much under the Tutorage of her superiors, becoming such a promising student amongst her peers. Sure, they had rules and oaths they were sworn by, but they were to make sure everyone was in check. So that no unwanted people tried entering this community, or no current members turned corrupted.

Sure some of them were a bit more questionable. But they were understandable if they were actually apart of the community. The vows of eternal chastity were make sure that they were truly dedicated to their studies and to their craft. Earthly pleasures were mere distractions. The vows of having no partners that aren’t strictly platonic, The vows of never leaving the land one was born to make sure that their ways wouldn’t be taken and twisted into something that would disgrace the group.

In retrospect, perhaps the rumors weren’t as bias and baseless as what she had been led to believe.

When the fall and the subsequent massacre of the reapers happened, the world was put into chaos. Reapers, entities who were responsible making sure people died when it was there time and were brought to the afterlife, were supposed to be immortal and moral beings. They did not hold grudges, they didn’t hold any qualms. They only did what their duty called them to do. Whatever happened amongst their ranks, it was unknown to the rest of the realms until the aftermath was felt across everywhere.

Nobody knew exactly what happened that caused it, but suddenly every reaper was dead, gone, some may even argue that they had been erased completely from being. All that they knew is that one of them toppled them all. An reaper only known as “Death.”. It took an even shorter period of time for him to take over the realms under his tyrannical rule. Amongst the chaos of the new world order, The Whisperers of Fate were virtually untouched. They simply complied with whatever demands that would make them swear loyalty to their new lord and moved on. No period of anarchy and destruction, no take over, none of the hardships that other places around them faced.

At the time, Anais felt it was proof that the community was, indeed, the correct path to follow. She watched as everyone and everything around her outside of the community was warped and twisted into something it wasn’t. She felt as though she was safe from all outside forces, that she’d just go about her life as if none of this had even happened.

That wasn’t until HE approached her community. She didn’t know to this day why he came to the place. Her best guess was to discuss with the community’s matriarch about political matters and such. Ever since the whole takeover, the community’s influenced spread rather fast across the land, to the point where they essentially controlled the land. Either way, she finally saw HIM, Death for the first time.

It wasn’t a conversation, rather her just stopping by to pick up scriptures and runes by her superior’s orders. Death was in the form he normally took. A skeletal like creature in dark ropes decorated in jewelry and an ominous Scythe by his side. She couldn’t help but notice how he stared at her for a spilt moment. Purple dots just gleaming into her, it sent chills down her spine. Then he went on about his business. Anais thought it would be the last she’d see of him.

Oh how she wished that was the case.

Death’s stay at the community was longer than what she knew it was, and in that time, her daily life would start to.. shift. It started with the occasional feeling of being watched. It was ignorable at first, as that was an usual feeling for anyone in the presence of Death and his entourage. But it started turning more persistent as the weeks moved on. To the point where it seemed to follow her no matter where she went or what time of day it was. Even in her room with the curtains drawn and the door locked she still felt something was watching over her.

Then the interactions happened. At first it was through anonymous letters. They were rather vague at times but were generally harmless. Quizzing her on her knowledge and such. Something in her told her she shouldn’t be doing this but she blew it off. She was starting to become a rather well known for her exceptionally dutiful role in the community and how gifted and talented she was proving to be In her crafts at her age, even starting to outshine her peers in the young adult ranks. This was probably just another test amongst many to her to prove herself.

Then she began seeing him face to face. His appearance was intimidating to say the least. She would always just try and meekly answer what is was he had to say in order to just get out of there. But overtime, the conversations began getting.. odd. He spoke of wanting to bring her along with him with his entourage across the lands. He said it would be a great opportunity for her community to gain recognition across the world.

But the way he spoke. The way he looked at her. She had a feeling that it was more than just wanting to do a good deed for her community. No, it was something much more selfish.. more sinister. She reminded him of the oath that forbad her from doing such a thing, from leaving her homeland. He relented. For the moment at least.

From that point, Anais did everything and anything to make sure she stayed away from him. Studying extra hours, helping her superiors out with more chores, taking care of the elders and the younger members of the community. Anything to make sure she wasn’t in the general area that he’d come to.

But that still didn’t work. It would seem that he’d just so coincidentally manage to bump into her no matter where she went. She’d try to make the conversations short but he’d always made sure that they lasted longer than what she was comfortable with. He was still trying to convince her to come with him, that surely her matriarch would make this one exception. She’d always turn it down. Eventually it came to a point where it was apparent it was less about the Whisperers of Fate itself and more about HER in particular.

Then when she was finally able to get away, able to excuse herself from her, she’d always find gifts left at her chambers. No matter how she tried turning them down, they just kept appearing. It was only until Death began making passive aggressive comments about it on passing that hinted towards the gifts was that she felt forced to reluctantly accept them.

It finally came to a head at the final week that Death would be there before he would head off. She had finally been approved to summon in her Familiar, a high honor that was usually reserved for the older adults. She ended summoning in a raven. It’s feathers were it’s usual black with it’s undertone being shades of dark purple and blue that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. It’s eyes were a ocean blue, separating itself from its normal, less mystical brethren.

The raven followed her everywhere she went, usually from afar on a branch or from a window seal or sometimes simply flying above her or sitting on her shoulder. It almost never left her side. It didn’t help that it would chirp whenever it sensed Death around. It made avoiding him all the more easier. After all of that, it should’ve been easier to avoid what came next.

It was a dark night, she had been walking through the corridors of library she often visited. It was empty besides from her. So when the raven began chirping, she was led on alert. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Why was he here? She didn’t know where to go or where to hide, there weren’t any true hiding spaces.

That’s when the raven began leading her towards a statue the far end of the library, sensing her distress. She followed where the bird to where it flew above. The creature then began peaking at a certain area behind the statue. Confused, Anais didn’t know what it meant. The statue itself was too small to effectively hide behind. Even if she could, it was in the middle of the library. He’d only have to change his direction of moving to be able to see her from behind there.

Then she realized the place the raven was peaking at was looser than the other stone. She pressed on the loose piece of stone and below her, a staircase to a room below the floor was revealed. It didn’t surprise her too much, the library was known for having hidden rooms, but most of those were very well known and banned off or not in this section of the library. She quickly descended down the stairs when the raven nudged her, seemingly warning her to hurry before Death came.

The room was pitch dark, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Even then, it was still very difficult to see, especially when she got to the end of the room. Unlit candles surrounded them, which would’ve been useful had she brought a match. Hey, at least her raven’s bright purple eyes shine through-

Wait. Purple eyes?

Anais’s heart leapt from her chest as she stared at the raven that sat there on the ground next to her. It cawed at her before it began growing in height, it’s body began misshaping and manipulating itself to finally form a human like shape. Anais watched in horror as Death finally let up his disguise and appeared before her. The form he decided to take on was that of a young man, perhaps to try and convince her more easily? Whatever the reason, it didn’t work.

Death loomed Over her as he spoke. He declared his love for her. He spoke of how he was just so enamored by her, how he had decided that she had to be his. It was such a shame he had to go to these lengths but she simply kept fighting what was going to inevitably happen. He confessed that he had been interested in a queen before meeting her, that he had a few other candidates in mind before meeting her. But now that he had made up his mind, he declared that it had to be her. He would accept no other woman, he would accept no other answer than her giving herself over to him.

Anais begged for him to just let her leave, she once again reminded him of the several paths that wouldn’t allow her to do that. But this time, he didn’t relent. He wouldn’t let her escape. He seized her, ignoring her begs for him to just let her go and her cries for someone to help her. He knew that nobody would hear or disturb them in this hidden place. This time, she wouldn’t be able to run..

After that night, the moment she got back to her chambers, Anais shut herself in her room, locking it and curling up in her bed, shaking, and white with fear of what had just happened. She knew then, that she was doomed. She had broken.. no, he made her break her vows. She didn’t want to, but it still happened. She tried so desperately from not letting it happen, but it did. Anais broke down into tears. She couldn’t let anyone know. She just couldn’t. She broke one of the most sacred vows, there was no way there wouldn’t be any punishment for it. She took a moment to breathe. She decided that the best course of action was to just keep quiet about it. Make sure nobody knows about what happened. Make herself as scarce as possible and make sure Death couldn’t find her before he’d have to go. It was the best thing she could think of for the moment. Probably not the best plan, but it had to be better than nothing.

Though she didn’t even get the chance TO stick to a plan. Not even an hour afterwards, she found herself being dragged down to the public square by her superiors, all the while spitting venom at her, swearing at her for breaking her vows. She tried to explain what happened, that she didn’t want to do disobey the community, just to please, please spare her.

They either didn’t believe her or simply didn’t care as they threw her in the middle of the community’s public square, tying her to a pole. She never thought she’d ever been in this scenario. This was usually something she’d very occasionally heard about. A member doing something so horrid that just couldn’t be forgiven that they had to be punished in the worse way possible. It seemed almost unanimous that she would was guilty of the transgressions she had supposedly committed. Her superiors told her it was from an unquestionable source that informed her of how she seduced one of Death’s entourage members into her bed. How she had been doing so for almost the entirety of their stay here.

Anais tried to speak out, but her voice was drowned out from the crowd’s cries of disgust and anger. More venom was spat at her. Anais almost thought this was a mere nightmare, something she’d wake up from, with the reassurance that none of this ever happened. It felt surreal that the faces that look upon her with kindness, pride, admiration, gentleness a day before, now looked upon her like she was the worse sinner that had ever lived. In their eyes, she probably was.

Then, her former superiors announced to the crowd what her punishment exactly was going to be. Anais could only weep as she realized what her fate would be, words failing to be comprehensive at this point.

For days, she was beaten, for days she was starved and denied water. It became a daily spectacle, watching her be whipped 20 times a day, before being kicked around and given as much punishment as an individual would like to dish out, anything, as long as it didn’t kill her. They would use just enough magick on her to ensure that. They broke and twisted her hands beyond repair to ensure she couldn’t use any of the spells or incantations she’d learned. A poison elixir was forced down her throat that muted her from ever being able to utter a single word of any type of magick ever again. Her familiar was stoned to death in front of her eyes, with her bound and helplessly trying to struggle in her restraints to try and save her trusted companion. When the familiar died, it felt like a piece of herself died along with it. It just felt like the world just stopped for a moment. Maybe that was for the best, because she couldn’t remember the rest of the beatings and ridicule for the day.

But the worse was to come on the final day of her torment. This time, they didn’t just beat her and let it be done with, they began flaying her. Specifically a tattoo located on her lower back. It was a rite of passage in the community, something that one gains when they enter into the community as a new blooded magick user. It was a practitioners pride, particularly for Anais. And now it was stripped from her.

Afterwards, she finally was let down from her bindings and walked through town square with accompanied by two of what used to be her friends and peers. She had to endure one last round of harsh curses and swearing, of various rotten things thrown at her and insults hurled her way as they finally exited the community. Then they walked, and they walked, and they walked. Anais still tried to protest her innocence to the two people she had known since childhood. They didn’t even meet her glance besides from a disgusted glare or say anything back to her. She was already dead to them.

They eventually stopped in the middle of seemingly nowhere in this desolate wasteland, many miles from the community. By this point, the sun began to set as night came. They promptly left her there. She didn’t have the strength to call out to them as she collapsed on the ground, in nothing but the rags that barely covered her body and covered In her own blood.

She didn’t even move from the spot she was laying in, she didn’t even feel the need to. Her entire life had just crumbled into Dust in front of her. Everything she had ever held value in, anything that she ever had meaning in, no longer had any significance to her in this state. She could’ve been eaten alive by whatever critters and creatures that roamed the wastelands and she wouldn’t have stopped them. What did she even have to fight on for?

That was when she felt a presence looming over her. She didn’t even have to look up to know who was looming over her beaten and broken body. She had honestly wished that Death had just come to just get it over with and just end it all already, to just make her horrid existence forfeit. But the rational side of her knew that he wouldn’t give her such a luxury, no he didn’t come here to end her pain.

Death didn’t say a word, he crouched down to her level, a skeletal hand caressing her swollen and badly bruised face. Any earlier on in her life she would’ve screamed and tried to get away, but she just stared up at him, eyes reddened from crying, at least, the one eye she could open as the other one was swollen shut. She was just so done with fighting, she just couldn’t muster up the energy to do it anymore.

Death just carried her in his arms as they both disappeared into the wind, back to his domain, back to his castle where Anais found herself somehow the queen and yet the prisoner of the palace.

All of which brings her back to the present day. Besides from scarring, the damage sustained to her hands was permanent, muscle tremors and overall weakness didn’t allow her to do much with them anymore. It was difficult for her to hold a pen, let alone do something as delicate as writing incantations or other things that would require a steady hand. It didn’t matter anyways. It wasn’t like she could do anything with the constant supervision of the guards constantly posted around her, as well as the serpent like dragon kept around her like a guard dog.

She felt like a precious gem, guarded and protected fiercely but never meant to have any agency of her own. It was an hellish existence, never having time to herself without the overbearing of either her ‘Husband’ Death or the all seeing eyes of the guards meant to keep her safe, to do everything and anything for her, except give her any amount of freedom, of course.

She coughed a bit, resisting the urge to vomit. Maybe they were doing more harm than good. Did they really think leaving a normal human in their corrupting presence for long extended periods of time wouldn’t have any consequences? This sickness she has caught wasn’t getting any better, though she was sure Death remained willfully blind to that fact, for that would call into question if he was truly meant to have her all so completely. It didn’t matter, nothing really did anymore.

She glanced over to Magenta, who was now toying with the dragon assigned to guard them. Alright, maybe one thing did matter.

Magenta then waddled over to Anais

“Mother! The snake isn’t being nice.” Magenta said, crawling into Anais’s lap. Anais managed to form whatever she could try to pass as a smile.

“Well, I’ll just have to speak with him about his rudeness later then.” Anais said.

Magenta then snuggled up into her, her face pressed against her swollen stomach.

“When is he coming out, I wanna play with him already!” Magenta whined. Anais took in a shaky breath as she tried to form a smile once again.

“Just be patient for a bit more, it’ll take a few more months. He can’t come out right now, he’s still growing.” Anais explained softly. Magenta grumbled but let it go as she got off Anais, most likely to go harass the dragon again.

Anais sighed. She tried not to think of Death whenever she thought of the little ones, but deep down, she just couldn’t shake it. Though it didn’t really matter much to her anyone. Not much did. If things kept going like how she predicts, if her sickness gets worse, if her son’s birth weakens her even more than she already is, she most likely wouldn’t be alive long enough to truly care.