#Dirge. Let's fuck.

[stabknives]

Astarion talking about his time with Cazador and Vykrum is like oh yes the boss. The boss you have sex with so he stops being the way he is for a few minutes. The sex he demands just to demonstrate his superiority over you or whatever. Yes. Of course I understand. And Astarion is like what. No. We never had- well certainly he wished we did, that bastard, but no. We never had sex. What are you talking about. And Vykrum is like ohhh this isn't a safe space suddenly.

[majorasnightmare]

thinking about isobel and ketheric, and my durge and ketheric, and isobel and my durge

like ketheric whos entire personality is centered around being a failed father, dirge who lives solely and exclusively for a father who does not love him, isobel being horribly violated for the sake of fatherly love in the name of a person shell never be again like excuse me this trio of people makes me go insane

ketheric and dirge like!! zealot recognizes zealot, ketheric knows what its like to be devoted wholeheartedly to a god who will discard you and thats explicitly why he has a businesslike relationship with myrkul, who KNOWSSS ketherics heart isnt in it but doesnt care, ketheric who never fully believed in the absolute plan but carried it out nonetheless, ketheric who nonsensically traded the death of the world for his daughters life, who in reality most likely traded his afterlife for isobels life, knowingly condemning himself to never see melodia again, to an eternity of torture at myrkuls hands, just so isobel can breathe again. dirge knowing with perfect clarity his own father would never do that for him. ketheric knowing that kind of hopeless devotion and willful blind ignorance leads to a kind of iron will that makes dirge genuinely dangerous but pitying the poor fool nonetheless because despite dirges clear intelligence and skill, despite his overwhelmingly obvious power, hes shackled to a self destructive idiot whod bite off his own arm just to spite the world who couldnt give a single fuck about dirges mental state or how that affects achieving bhaals OWN goals and fulfilling his OWN desires, because ketheric understands perfectly well a god will be stupid and selfish first and reasonable and measured second. dirge hating ketheric not just for being a wishywashy traitor who cant settle on something to be devoted to, but because ketheric has the shit figured out. its a zero sum game. theres no winning, only different types of losers, and embracing that truth means acknowledging his entire life has been a pointless self destructive waste that will never give him the satisfaction and actualization dirge craves, so its easier and more stable to just interpret ketheric as a coward. except hes going to kill himself for isobel. going to go through hell for her. theres a level of devotion and love and care there that dirge has only experienced once in his life and the memory of it is enough to drive him to madness, but despite it all ketheric IS competent. is level and measured and powerful and capable of looking past his own self interest to the far horizon of victory, is tactical and clever and willing to wade into the fray. so dirge hates, and admires, and envies, and pities, and reflexively seeks out and avoids ketheric in equal measure. wants to carve him up until he finally breaks, screaming for a god that wont hear him as just rewards for his insolence (because dirges loyalty will SURELY be rewarded, loyalty to his god and to his father, certainly), cant stand the idea of working alongside anyone else, hates being around him but hates doing things without him, falling into old habits of depravity just to get away from the cacophany of emotion and the introspection it tries to trigger.

and then ketheric is doing all of this for someone who doesnt really exist. the isobel he wants to revive isnt real. its a version of her thats stripped hollow of the things that make her, HER. he wants an isobel that doesnt love aylin, he wants an isobel that is content to remain in place and be protected by him, where he was the center of her world. he wants an isobel that hasnt existed for over a century. he wants an isobel like he remembers thinking of the days before melodia died. its why despite everything he gives up for her, if ketheric gets his hands on isobel he tadpoles her. the tadpoles are just a convenient tool for cutting away the unnecessary parts of a person, things they dont need and wont want afterwards. isobel mourns the father she had after her mother died, but ketheric wants the isobel she used to be when melodia was still present in their lives. the isobel after melodia died eventually left him for aylin. grew up and became a person outside of their small family and community. had interests and desires and goals that took her away from him. she doesnt need aylin, doesnt need anything besides family. thats whats important, thats whats worth ruining lives over. everything after isobel was just a failed copy, not even worth reminiscing over. everyone beyond isobel doesnt matter. desecrate the family tomb, abuse your son, drag your aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters out from the grave just to see if it works, if it sticks, because the whole world revolves around a little girl who stopped existing long before she died, because she became someone else someone new and left you floundering alone. youll get them back even if it means you burn in hell forever, those few precious moments are worth it, itll all be worth it, its already worth it. kill yourself kill the world because the only god worth dying for is the one found in between poorly scratched letters on a paper rotting from age that say "love you papa, -I T". live every day with the smoke and the rot knowing that your father loved you so much he cant even look at who you are now. live every day knowing its a gift you cant return to a man who doesnt see you, knowing that all youll ever have are ghosts that seek to hollow you out and play pretend with the shell. hes awful. hes horrible. hes a monster. hes your dad and he loves you so much its killing you. will kill you. has killed you. has killed everything you could ever want in your life. hes your dad. he read you stories when you were small. kept you from falling apart when your mother died. your rock in stormy seas. he wants to read you another story. its dark outside. its scary. this story has a happy ending. its just for you. the girl in the picture book has your name but doesnt look like you at all. its written in silver blood. theres an ache that wont leave, a rot that refuses to mend, a scar that wont close, and its all for love

thinking about dirge being the one to drag isobel from her coffin, to bring her back for the sake of sealing a pact that will end the world, going against his entire religion the whole reason for his existence just for the sake of fulfilling his own fathers dreams. children living at the behest of their parents, denied death for their fathers selfish whims. isobel autopsied and opened, layers peeled back. gortash and ketheric never exhumed a body, never prepared it for the grave, never made such an intimate study of death. gortash unwilling to bloody himself unnecessarily, ketheric unwilling to look past the deathmask to see isobels interior, so its dirge, it has to be him, the only one willing to bite down his own desires for the greater good. an unforgivable violation of autonomy, but the only one who thinks of it as such is the scion of the murder god. she cant consent. she cant choose to be apart of this, to sacrifice herself for a cause greater than herself. he has to inflict this upon her. life is suffering and madness and delusion. death is peace, and he is the holy vessel of transition from one state to the other. this? this is blasphemy. she has already fled this horrid blighted world for a better one, and here he is participating in blasphemous ritual. its for the sake of their plan, its for the sake of enacting his fathers dreams (as all children know, you are naught but a vessel to achieve the goals they could not in their time), but she cannot even take glory in the knowledge of her sacrifice, cannot even know she is a sacrifice until its too late to go back. carves open and peels back the picturesque skin, preserved by gloom and arid darkness and sealed stone to keep away the rot. peeling away the mask of Isobel Thorm to see the visceral rotting insides of a person ketheric cant stand to see.

clearing away the ruin and decay so something new can take its place. corpses are objects fled of souls, no longer a person, no longer anything and thus free to toy and play with as boredom and curiosity desires, but this is not a thing. this will again be a person, a vessel to trap someone inside of, to force them to suffer and persist and delude and live and he cant even ask if shell do it. do it to help him break the world and put an end to this madness forever. cant convince her of the rightousness of it, the necessity of it, cant help but use her for it. to gortash she is a token exchanged for power, to ketheric she is a snapshot of a better world he wants to go back to, but only here on this dirty bloodstained table with a bhaalspawn elbow deep in her organs is she a person, whos autonomy and personhood is being irrevocably violated. his nature is to free them of these shackles, to snip the cords and revel in the ensuing destruction, and here he is binding her again. the humiliation, the horror, of being set loose from this hellscape only to be brought back. to be dragged, kicking and screaming, back into living. to be subject to such awful blasphemy. here in the dark and the quiet where there is no voice to speak back to him, when there is no rushing blood or beating hearts to call forth his purpose, there and then does armageddons prophet desire forgiveness, only in this shadowed purgatory can someone truly see. when all the world lies dead at my feet, i will beg forgiveness from no one but you. lamb on the altar, holy blood, if such desecration was not necessary for the cleansing of suffering, i would never deign to subject you to it. to you alone do i tender my apologies, my blessed father may forgive this sin in light of the retribution it will call forth, but cruel fate has chosen you without your knowledge to bear this disgusting violation, and the only salve i can offer is that, gods willing, you will not suffer long. to live in a world that could give rise to something like me is a torture i would not wish upon anyone, and for the sake of my father i inflict it upon you nonetheless. when you rise, my only thoughts will be of murder, holy and pure. but here in the dark, when you are at peace and i am not, i think of you, and what youd want, and how no one would ever, COULD ever, ask for what i do to you here. here in the quiet i breathlessly whisper a prayer meant only for your ears, a second sin i cannot stop myself from committing, here where you cannot hear me but God surely can, a wish that i will surely pay for dearly, a punishment i endure willingly and without complaint, a smallest fraction of the torment i knowingly inflict upon you. i live, and soon so shall you, and for that, i will never know peace.

im so sorry. i did it for love

[lecliss]

I'll never be able to take the theory that Vincent is Sephiroth's real father seriously cuz I cannot stress enough how important I think it is to the plot that Vincent wanted to fuck Lucrecia and did not get to.

[colourmeblood]

The Squad and a meeting in the shower

[one-winged-dreams]

ADVENT CHILDREN IN THEATERS TOMORROW RIPPING APART MY COUCH CUSHIONS WITH MY TEETH IN ANTICIPATION

[entername322]

Her highness

Minji (New jeans) x Male Reader

Length: 11341 words

Previous part

“What do you mean we're not doing karaoke? It was your idea”, Things have been very fishy for you recently, at least according to Jin, “Yeah, I did plan that, but you know, life”, He glances around a little to look at Haewon who's passive aggressively staring at you. “Whatever the fuck is happening between you and Hae, you better fix it fast before this whole thing blew up”, With the frustration all over his face you didnt have the heart to tell him you're dropping off college soon. Nah just joking, “Jin, I'm dropping out soon”, Whatever you just said just send Jin to a cardiac arrest. “Are you shitting me?” You can clearly see he's boiling up, “No, dad's gonna get busy with honeymoon soon and-” The punch was quick, you can follow it with your eyes but you decided to just let him land it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you. Like what on earth did you do in the last few months? You know what? I don't care, fix it and get your shit back together”, Thankfully he still has the composure to keep his voice down, of course that doesn't mean nobody saw the punch. “Oi, what the fuck are you two doing?” Ren and the rest came to you and broke up the ‘fight’. “Ask him”, Jin glared at me, “Guys, I will have to drop out of college soon”, Of course this news silences the whole room. “You're joking”, Of course, they knew the answer, “Fuck then what about this? This whole fucking shit was your idea”, Being a leader is kinda annoying huh? You see Jin just slips away from the room.

Jin's departure slammed the door on whatever fragile camaraderie remained. Their eyes, once alight with shared dreams, glinted with cold betrayal. You felt the weight of their judgement like a physical blow, the respect you'd meticulously cultivated crumbling to dust in their vacant stares. "Can I go out first?" you asked, your voice surprisingly steady. "I have somewhere to be. Wouldn't want to make things awkward."

Awkward. A woefully inadequate word for the gaping chasm that had opened between you and your creation. Your band, cobbled together from dreams and desperation, now resembled a wreckage, each member a splintered piece of the illusion you'd woven.

Their silence screamed volumes. The air, thick with unspoken accusations, tasted bitter on your tongue. You remembered the meticulous courtship, the careful promises whispered like sweet nothings. You'd scouted them out, these talented yet directionless souls, lured them in with visions of stardom and the clinking promise of tuition fees.

Brotherhood, you'd called it. A bond forged in sweat and ambition. But it was all a lie, a gilded cage you'd built with your ill-gotten gains. You, the puppeteer orchestrating their dreams, the benefactor playing God with their futures. And now, the strings had snapped. The music, once vibrant and hopeful, had devolved into a discordant dirge. You weren't their leader anymore, just a faded mirage revealed in the harsh light of betrayal. Letting them go, scattering them back into the indifferent arms of life, wasn't a decision, it was an acceptance. This band, this fleeting experiment, was never meant to be permanent. A hobby fueled by boredom and an insatiable need for control, it had run its course. “I wish you good luck”

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The sobs ripped through her like a rogue storm, each tear a glistening shard of her fractured trust. Minji clung to you with the raw desperation of a shipwrecked sailor, her body shaking against yours like a fragile leaf in a hurricane. You felt the tremors of her pain coursing through you, a dissonance in the carefully orchestrated melody of your scheme. Yet, beneath the icy satisfaction, a twisted kind of admiration bloomed. This volcanic eruption of her emotions, this primal display of possessiveness, was the raw material you needed to forge your queen. Minji, in her shattered state, was closer to your vision than ever before.

Her questions, choked with tears and doubt, echoed in the room: "Was it all a charade? Am I not your only love? Was there… someone else?" Instead of flinching, you met her gaze head-on, your eyes pools of icy amusement. "Hush, now babe", you murmured, your voice a soothing balm against the rawness of her storm. "There's only you. You're the sun my world revolves around, the fire that ignites my soul…. That sounds so fucking cringe", Your futile attempt at humour has fail to lighten her moods.

“You know I only got you babe, now and forever. That's what we promised right? That's why you buy those books to guide you through these trying times”, Your words, laden with a seductive truthfulness, were carefully chosen arrows aimed at the target of her insecurities. You knew her weaknesses, the fault lines running deep within her heart. And you exploited them, not with malice, but with the precision of a sculptor moulding clay.

"Perhaps, it's time for me to come out in the open”, You continued, tracing comforting circles on her trembling back, "Whatever I've planned for you, it's for your own good babe. I love you, more than you love me. So the same way you want me to be the best version of myself for you, I wanted you to be the best version of yourself for me too. I'm sorry that I have to put you through this, but this, this little dance that we do, it excites me. It's all just a little trial, so that you can be the perfect girl for me. Should I stop this babe, or should I continue this, and turn you into the perfect”, You leaned closer to her ears, “Wife?” The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge veiled in promises. You saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the battle between fear and ambition raging within her. But you knew, you just knew, that the monster in her hungered for more than just affection. She craved control, a throne beside yours, a kingdom to share in the spoils of your deceit.

"But there were whispers," she whimpered, clinging to the last shred of doubt. "Haewon… she said…" You silenced her with a gentle kiss, your lips a whispered promise on hers. "Haewon is a moth drawn to q flame, babe. A jealous girl who'll never understand the dance we share. You, Minji, are the one that I only ever cared about. I want you, to turn as corrupt, as degenerate, and as starved as I am. In the end there will be no one else but us”, As her sobs subsided, replaced by a cautious, flickering hope, you knew you had won. You had steered her fear towards ambition, her jealousy towards loyalty. Minji, the tigress, was slowly shedding her kitten fur, her claws unfurling with every whispered promise, every seductive truth.

“I have you, I only have you since day one oppa, why are you doing this to me? Did I not show you my love enough?” She felt betrayed, yet again, it's not like there's anything you can do to make her leave, whether you like it or not. “Because I love you. You love claiming me, you love having me in this little world of ours and you want me to never leave. Yet I can't stay here forever, I love people, I love the crowd, the attention, the adoration, I love it when I walk into a room and have everyone bow to me in respect. So I have to break you down first baby, so I can mould you, to the perfect queen for me. I'm sorry that I hurt you this much baby, I never meant to ruin you, all I want to do is show you, that this is who I am. I'm sorry okay, I really do, but I'm doing this for our own good”

Yeah that's not very convincing is it? Yet, you both know Minji can't step out of this anymore. Entrapped, by her own ‘love’ towards you, the "why" wasn't important anymore. The elaborate justifications, the convoluted games, all dissolved in the face of your shared truth. Perhaps you'd hoped for anger, for defiance, even for rejection, something that would add more fuel to the chaos you've made. But instead, Minji's silence was a balm to the burning truth you'd laid bare. It spoke of understanding, of a recognition that mirrored your own, a whispered acknowledgment that this twisted symphony they danced to was somehow their anthem.

Her fingers tightened around yours, a silent pact replacing the unspoken accusations. This wasn't submission, not surrender. It was a meeting point, a crossroads where their paths, both paved with shadows, intertwined into a single, storm-swept road. "You're insane”, she whispered, her voice a feather-light caress against your cheek, "but so am I. And maybe, in this broken world, that's enough”, You've done it, you turn her into an emo girl. 

The statement, simple yet profound, hit you like a rogue wave. Her acceptance, so stark and unconditional, was the missing piece you hadn't known you craved. It felt like breathing after years of holding your breath, a rawness that simultaneously terrified and exhilarated you. Together, you sat in the quiet aftermath of your confessions, two sides of the same tainted coin, two halves of a whole sculpted from darkness. There would be no apologies, no promises of redemption, just the shared understanding that your dance, was theirs alone.

The silence that draped around you after your revelations wasn't heavy, but filled with future possibility. You scooped Minji up, cradling her close like a precious shard of the storm just weathered. In the hushed intimacy of the living room, bathed in the soft glow of a single lamp, you revelled in the newfound solidity of the bond forged in the crucible of truth. Her body, still trembling from the emotional storm, fit perfectly against yours, a puzzle piece clicking into place. You felt the warmth of her breath against your neck, a whisper of shared understanding. Gone were the accusations, the hurt, replaced by a quiet confidence, a dark symphony now playing in unison.

As you gently settled onto the couch, your gaze fell upon the abandoned book splayed on the floor, a silent witness to the whirlwind that had just passed. It was the one she'd thrown in a fit of anger, its pages splayed open like a dissected butterfly.

During this you noticed her book lay abandoned on the coffee table, a silent testament to the storm that had just swept through your living room. Minji, nestled against you, breathing in your comforting scent, slowly she notices a foreign smell, a sickening feeling starts to well up inside her. Minji’s playful mood slowly evaporated, suddenly the air felt thick with the cloying sweetness of cheap Jasmine perfume. It felt heavy, clinging to you like a second skin. It wasn't her scent, not by a long shot. Her nose crinkled, a storm brewing behind her bright facade. The smell of an old rival, a ghost that you've promised her to be exorcised from your heart.

"Trust and communication?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "This author must have missed the chapter where husbands spend half the night glued to their phones and come back smelling of a cheap whore’s perfume instead of cologne”, Right, you forgot that Haewon almost embraced you earlier, which is enough for Minji's nose to pick up her scent. “Oh, this?" You chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "Just catching up with an old friend, sharing some stories. Nothing to worry about, sweetheart”, Minji has grown a little more, she notices that you didn't really try to lie, you want her to dig deeper, which she did.

Minji jumped onto your lap, grabbing your face, she bared her claws, digging into your cheek, her voice turning steely. "Sharing stories, huh? And sharing something else too, it seems. Tell me, babeee, does your 'friend' always wear perfume that smells like a used cleaning cloth?" The playful facade crumbled. You saw the hurt flickering in her eyes, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Haewon's scent, a careless residue from a fleeting encounter, felt like a betrayal etched into the air. Minji, a defiant queen waiting for her answer, you smiled seeing this sight, such a beauty isn't she?

The playfulness was gone, replaced by a simmering intensity as Minji’s claws traced angry lines on your cheek. Her voice, sharp as broken glass, sliced through the tension-laden air. "Used cleaning cloth, huh? That's new”, A little smile forms on your face which you hide with your hand. “A fucking street whore throwing herself on to you at any moment possible. How is she there? You said she won't come”, Shame and remorse were strangers to you at this moment. This wasn't a confession dripping with guilt, it was a calculated provocation, a lit match tossed into the tinderbox of Minji's emotions. Every word, every flinch, was a brushstroke in the grand masterpiece you were composing.

"It wasn't like that," you began, your voice a feigned sigh of exasperation. "She was there at the performance, completely unexpected. We talked..." The air crackled with her disbelief. "Talked, you say?" Minji echoed, her eyes boring into yours like twin lasers. "And did this 'talk' involve her whispering sweet things on to you as you FUCKED HER behind my back?" The lie you'd woven about Haewon's absence evaporated in the crucible of her gaze. Denials would be futile, a flimsy curtain against the hurricane of her suspicion. So, you embraced the storm, your voice steady as you plunged into the icy waters of truth. "She said... she might be pregnant”, You admitted, your eyes carefully preyed upon her brewing madness.

The revelation hit Minji like a rogue wave. The fire in her eyes flickered momentarily, replaced by a chilling mix of shock and something akin to... fear. The claws digging into your skin relaxed, leaving behind crimson trails, a testament to the tempest that had just raged within her. Silence descended, the air thick with the weight of your confession. This wasn't just a betrayal of trust, it was a detonator, threatening to blow apart the twisted kingdom you'd built with Minji. But the tigress was no damsel in distress.

She pushed herself off your lap, her movements sharp and controlled. Her gaze, unwavering, held a cocktail of emotions - hurt, anger, and a flicker of something darker, something predatory.

Minji's claws retracted, not in defeat, but in a shift in focus. The fire in her eyes, previously aimed at you, burned brighter now, honed to a singular point – Haewon. The scent of the cheap perfume, no longer a mere annoyance, became a tangible object of her ire, a crimson flag planted in the territory of their twisted kingdom. "Pregnant, you say?" She echoed, her voice a low snarl, each word dripping with venom. "So, she saunters into your life, throws her cheap wares around, and now wants to play house with stolen goods?” You merely laughed at her oversight, “Babe, we just broke up like a month ago, maybe less, there's a chance it was from before you and me even a thing”, That's true, but in Minji's mind, you are her, regardless of the timeline.

The silence hung heavy in the air, a poison dart that had struck Minji right in the heart. That word, pregnant, rings countless times in her ears. Haewon, that vapid, spiteful creature, pregnant with what might be your child. Minji's claws, retracted a moment ago, dug back into your cheek, this time not in anger, but in a desperate attempt to anchor herself in this dizzying reality. "A month ago?" she breathed, her voice a fractured whisper. "You're mine oppa, I don't care if it's a month ago or a year ago, she stole you from me", The proclamations hung heavy, a storm brewing behind her fiery eyes. You met her gaze, a dark smile playing on your lips. "Alright, babe", you purred, your voice laced with a dangerous calm. "You and your... melodrama. But Haewon is just a little bump in our way, a fleeting distraction, a moth drawn to the flame only to get singed."

The truth, twisted and barbed, hung between you. A month ago, Haewon had been a convenient plaything, a diversion in the intoxicating madness that was Minji. But pregnant? That shifted the game in ways you hadn't anticipated, adding a delicious layer of chaos to the symphony you were composing. Minji, however, saw only one thing – threat. Haewon, not as a rival, but as a permanent stain on their twisted tapestry. The tigress within her reared its head, a guttural growl escaping her throat.

"Erase her," she hissed, her eyes blazing with a fire you found strangely beautiful. "Erase her from your life, from your thoughts, from every goddamn molecule of your body”, The possessiveness in her voice, the raw need to claim you as her own, sent a thrill down your spine. This, this was the Minji you craved, the one consumed by the flames of your twisted love, the one willing to dance on the edge of destruction for a taste of your dark symphony.

You leaned in, your breath ghosting over her ear. "That, my love”, You murmured, your voice dripping with seductive promise, "is precisely what we'll do. Together."

The pregnancy, that tangled mess of Haewon's moves, became the fuel for your shared purpose. Each whispered plan, each strategic strike against her rival, was a brushstroke in the masterpiece they were co-creating. Minji, fueled by righteous fury, became your partner-in-crime, her darkness mirroring your own in a mesmerising spectacle of shared chaos. You orchestrated a subtle but ruthless campaign, chipping away at Haewon's life until she was nothing but a hollow shell, clinging to a phantom hope. It wasn't just about erasing her, it was about painting Minji's name on your soul in bold, defiant strokes.

With each act of vengeance, Minji shed the last vestiges of the playful tigress, evolving into something darker, more primal. The pleasure you derived from it wasn't morbid, it was aesthetic. You were a sculptor, moulding her fury into a weapon, her possessiveness into a shield, her desire for you into an inferno that threatened to consume them both. In the flickering shadows of your twisted kingdom, where trust was a forgotten language and loyalty a weapon, you watched Minji blossom into the queen you always knew she could be. Her anger, once directed at you, had morphed into a shared crusade, a twisted tango where Haewon was the unwitting victim.

Exhaustion tugged at you like a riptide, pulling you under the velvet waves of sleep. You dragged Minji to bed, and in one quick sweep the fatigue almost took your consciousness away as soon as you dropped to the bed. Minji, however, remained a restless reef, sharp and jagged against your soft shore. The air still crackled with the aftershocks of Haewon's bomb, casting a long shadow of uncertainty over your twisted Eden. You tumbled into slumber, but it was a shallow haven, riddled with thoughts and plans for the final act you've set up. Minji, sensing your vulnerability, clung to you like a vine to a crumbling wall, desperate to anchor herself in the shifting landscape of your emotions.

As the night wore on, your sleep became a battlefield. Minji, a whirlwind of possessive fervour, left a trail of love bites across your skin – branding you with her claim, etching her name in the flesh you offered up as a canvas. Each mark, a crimson sigil in the flickering lamplight, whispered a silent declaration: "Mine” of course, she's very vocal about it as well. “You're mine oppa, I'm not letting any whore touch you again”, And, “That bitch won't be a problem anymore oppa, I'll make sure of it”, and some more monologue that tug you away from the warm embrace of rest. You stirred, half-awake, half-lost in the tangled web of sleep and desire. Minji's lips, hot and demanding, trailed a fiery path down your throat, her touch a desperate plea for reassurance, for ownership. You yielded, not unwillingly, but with a detached amusement. Her anxiety was your aphrodisiac, her possessiveness a twisted mirror reflecting your own desires.

The lovemaking was a dance of shadows, bodies entwined in a desperate quest for solace and control. Minji, no longer the playful tigress, was a predator defending her territory, marking her prey with the fierce beauty of her claws. And you, the ever-enigmatic maestro, conducted this dark symphony with a languid smile, your own desires veiled in a mist of shadows and calculated intent.

You closed your own eyes, the taste of her possessiveness lingering on your tongue. Sleep beckoned again, this time deeper, darker, pregnant with the promise of chaos. For in the kingdom of your twisted love, dawn was not a symbol of renewal, but a prelude to the next act, a twisted tango where trust was a weapon, passion a battlefield, and every bite, every mark, a declaration of war against the ghosts of yesterday and the uncertainties of tomorrow.

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“Yeah, so what do I do now?” You are talking with your dad, about Haewon of course. “You got someone pregnant, to be honest I'm surprised it took you this long”, You can't argue with that one, “It's not my fault okay? She refused to take the pills”, Yes, you have contacted Haewon again, under the supervision of Minji, and she has taken a pregnancy test and shows that she's pregnant. “You know what you want to do already”, His eyes pierced through your deception, “Yes”, Moral is, a flimsy concept you like to dance around with, of course this trait is something you've gotten from your dad. “Is she rich?” You shake your head, “Does Minji know about this?” You nodded which made him frown.

“It would be troublesome if she finds out about your plan wouldn't it?” You shake your head again before telling him what transpired between you and Minji. Just the main part, the fact that she is just downright insane and obsessed with you, of course you take no blame for her transformation. “I knew you were a bad influence on her”, He's your dad, he knows your mind okay? “I plead innocence”, Do you have the right to do that? “Denied, we'll talk about that later. For now, deal with your ex, do what you must”, That's all you need to hear.

“Thanks dad, you're such a great father”, He doesn't even bother acknowledging your sarcastic remark as he leaves the house. Then Minji scurry off from the next room and jump to your lap. “Does he say yes?” She has such an innocent excitement on her, “Yes babe, we will ruin Haewon's life”, Which is so fucked up since the two of you are planning to rip apart Haewon. “Great, finally”, She nuzzled up to you, “I need to talk with Mina”, She immediately raised her head hearing a girl's name. “Who is that?” The new Minji isn't scared to bare her fang anytime she needs to, “Dad's assistant, also my mentor for the internship I have”, You pulled out your phone only for her to immediately snatch it away.

"Funny”, She breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, "you never mentioned her before”, The accusation hung heavy in the air, a barb aimed at your perceived deception. You could have easily backpedalled, spun a web of lies to appease her, but something rebellious stirred within you. This wasn't the Minji of old, the one who accepted your every word as gospel. This was a new Minji, born from the ashes of Haewon's betrayal, a tigress who demanded truth, who wouldn't hesitate to tear through the shadows if you dared to hide in them.

You could almost hear the gears in her mind turning, suspicion and jealousy swirling like a storm cloud. You weren't afraid, not in the slightest. This was just another act in your twisted play, a minor inconvenience that fueled the fire of her possessiveness. "Just a colleague, babe”, You drawled, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. "Helping me out with the internship”, You tried to take your phone back but she refuses to let go, "Conveniently absent from your usual repertoire", she quipped, her eyes gleaming with challenge.

You couldn't help but chuckle, a low rumble that vibrated through your chest. "Mina's not part of the story, darling. She's only a little cameo in our story, and I need her to finish our plans, so may I have my phone back?" The truth, of course, was more complex. Mina was a pawn in your twisted game, a piece to be moved across the board to elicit a specific reaction from Minji. Now that Haewon is being removed from the picture, you need a new doll, and Mina would be perfect for that. Minji's jealousy, a predictable yet volatile element, was the accelerant you needed to feed Mister Hyde.

But the act of pretending, of downplaying Mina's significance, was its own reward. The flicker of annoyance in Minji's eyes, the subtle tightening of her jaw, was a delicious confirmation of your power, of your ability to manipulate her emotions like a puppet with strings. "Oh, really?" Minji's voice dripped with scepticism. "Then why the secrecy, maestro? Why not introduce me to this… mentor of yours?" The challenge was implicit. A dare, a test of your commitment to this twisted game. You met her gaze, a mischievous glint in your own eyes.

"Fine, if you insist", You shrugged, a feigned sigh escaping your lips. "But be warned, babe, Mina's a bit… bland. Not something you would have fun meeting with”, So rude, however Mina is a silent type that just can't get along with you. You don't mind introducing her, you knew it would pique Minji's interest, fuel the embers of her competitive spirit. Minji thrived on being the centre of your attention, the object of your desire. Introducing a rival, even a fabricated one, was simply adding fuel to the fire.

.

.

.

“Mina, meet Minji, my new sister”, You stare Mina down, her pale figure seeming to shimmer in the shadows. Her delicate features, framed by dark raven hair, held the same unnerving stillness you once found captivating in Haewon. But Mina lacked the fiery edge, the malicious spark that burned beneath Haewon's surface. This one was a blank canvas, a porcelain doll waiting to be painted in the twisted hues of your desire.

The word sister in the air, a deliberate bomb dropped into the simmering tension. Minji, mid-sip of her wine, froze, her eyes flashing emerald fire. Sister? The possessive glint in them was replaced by a flicker of suspicion, the tigress sniffing out the absurdity of your claim. But before Minji could unleash her trademark hiss, you added another twist, your lips curling into a smirk. "And of course, my girlfriend, as well.” The room descended into an icy silence. Minji's jaw clenched, the wine glass held hostage between her white-knuckled fingers. Mina, however, remained unfazed. Her porcelain face flickered not even an inch, her gaze as detached as ever.

Minji, stare at you silently, “Don't you dare play this game with me”, You met her fury with a calm smile, enjoying the spectacle of her controlled outrage. "But babe", You purred, leaning closer, "It's only the truth. We may not share any blood but our name will be united soon, twisted to a lovely yet scandalous romance story”, You smiled innocently as you kissed Minji's cheek. “Twisted indeed”, Mina didn't even blink, her glacial eyes reflecting nothing but a cold amusement. “Sister and girlfriend, huh?" she finally drawled, her voice a silken blade. "Sounds like you've upgraded your moral compass from rusty to non-existent. Quite the family reunion, you'll be having soon sir", The barb stung, but you merely chuckled. You craved Mina's bluntness, her ability to pierce through your carefully constructed facade. Her lack of filter nor decency to not curse her own boss is something you always value the most.

“Come on now Mina, we're in love, haven't you ever felt young love before?” Her silent gaze answered it, “Don't make fun of our relationship, this bond is deeper than what you will understand”, Minji scoffed at Mina. "Oh, I bet," Mina drawled, her glacial gaze flitting between you and Minji. "Deeper than a Mariana Trench trench of red flags, perhaps? Incestuous entanglements spiced with a dash of public manipulation? Should I order a book called 'Ethics for Dummies' to fill your office bookshelf so that it can comfortably be placed alongside the other books you've never read before sir?” Quite the feisty one isn't she?

“Come on Mina, we're in a dog eat dog kind of world, nobody cares about this arrangement”, You shrugged, “Dogs with a penchant for family therapy, it seems”, She eyed Minji who just glared at her. “So my kind and ever so humble sir, is this 'sister-girlfriend' arrangement the only reason why I'm here? I believe I am quite a bad therapist, however if you do insist I do have a basic common sense so I believe I can manage”, You can't help but laugh, Mina is not a firecracker, she's an ice cold equivalent of that. 

“I have some issue to deal with, I believe dad has told you the details?” She shakes her head, “Of course, I expected that as well”, She doesn't even react, why do you even bother trying to fish some kind of reaction from her? Oh right, it's not her reaction you're fishing for, “Stop being such a flirt”, It's Minji's. “First of all, I had some complications, you see my ex has been found to be pregnant”, Oh, you got a little tug on the fishing line, Mina let out a little chuckle. “How many of them sir?” You laughed as you shook your head. “So blunt, it's just one Mina. And the problem is, she doesn't want to deal with this quietly”, Finally, some reaction from Mina, she tilted her head with some ‘amusement’ in her eyes.

“And?” You don't really want to answer Mina do you? In order to see your progress you need to see Minji take the initiative and spearhead this whole operation. “I want her dead”, There she goes, they grow up so fast don't they? “So crude, but how could I judge after the brother-sister relationship you two are having?” There is one elephant in the room, a question you really want to hear Mina answer. “Does dad deal with this kind of problem too?” She has no reaction at all, yet there's sudden understanding between the two of you that you happily acknowledge.

“What was that?” Of course Minji doesn't appreciate it, she doesn't see what you see in Mina's eyes but she can definitely tell something is up just by looking at you.

“Nothing, Mina come here”, Minji grabbed your arm and stood up with you, “Baby I need some time to talk okay?” That's a pathetic attempt and you know it. “I'm coming with you”, The queens demand it, are you gonna disobey your queen? “Just wait here okay? We'll be right by the door”, Her eyes burned through your skull to send you her ultimatum. “Thank you baby”, You gave her a kiss as she sat back down, Mina followed you to the corner of the room, completely disregarding Minji's presence. “Quite the specimen you had there sir, is she as morally corrupt as you?” Mina taunted you, “Not really corrupt, just, different. Anyway she's a psycho and she wants Haewon dead due to jealousy”, Mina had this very small and almost unnoticeable gloating in her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Don't act like you're free from the crossfire, look at the way she looks at you right now”, Minji's eyes are hollow and devoid of life.

“I am completely aware sir”, Mina said without turning to Minji, “So, I need you to make Haewon disappear, but not just that. I need you to make her death to be, ambiguous at best. Is that possible?” Mina silently stare at you, this time you can't seem to grasp what's in her mind. “Making people disappear without trace is possible, however I need some more explanation on how ambiguous you want it to be”, Should you tell her why? “Just, make sure that her body is never found. Minji is paranoid and has been thinking that I might have some reluctance to this whole operation. So it would be nice if Haewon's disappearance is all clouded in mystery. No missing person report, no dead body found, no trace of her disappearances or death”, Mina just shook her head. “That's our normal procedure for this sir”, Of course it is, how could you miss this part of the orientation. “Right, well sorry Mina it's my first time doing this okay?” She still looks at you with some disappointment before walking back to the table.

You just sighed and joined back with Minji, “So? How long?” Minji said impatiently, “2 weeks, it will be finished by 2 weeks, now if there's nothing else for me I'll leave you two for your family therapy”, Did Mina just make some porn jokes? “Well, that's all for now Mina, thank you for coming here”, Mina nodded before she stood up and left the house.

“So, what did you two talk about?” Minji said, ‘calmly’. “Haewon's parents, I felt for them, they're good people”, She slapped you for that. “They raised a whore”, Can't argue with that can't you? “Don't be too anxious now baby, I'm sure they never expected her to be like this. Now, we need some shopping for our parent's marriage, I was thinking about red as our matching colour”, She looks at you with some distrust but she nod, “No, let's wear something white, it's also signify our union”, Maybe Mina is right, you need some family therapy.

.

.

.

“Sweetie, do you really have to wear some white dress?” Minji nods her head showing her determination, “You said that oppa and I can't have any official marriages so I want to at least have some resemblance to a wedding”, Your mom can only sigh in defeat dealing with this new Minji. “Here I thought you don't like being with people, this dress will put a lot of eyes on you, you know”, Yet there's still some happiness in her heart seeing jee daughter has finally broken out of her cocoon. “I don't mom, but oppa does and I will tolerate people for him”, Your mom smiled at her new daughter.

“Such a good wife”, Minji blushed a little hearing that from her own mom, “So, has that ex of his has been taken care off?” Minji frowned upon hearing that, “No, it's in one week and oppa has been keeping secrets from me again”, You can't just let Haewon die off screen can't you? “He's such a troublemaker isn't he? Sometimes I wonder if he's actually his father's son”, You are, your father has the same level of moral corruption but he causes less chaos than you. “I'm losing my mind mom, I loved him more than anything in the world and I want him to love me back as much as I do”, Despite her growth, there's still some childish innocence within Minji.

“Sweetie, life isn't a novel, sometimes all you can do is compromise. Your brother is a maniac with some split personality and you are an obsessed child who's guarding him like a dragon to its trophy. You both make compromise for each other, and sometimes that's good enough”

Minji frowned and couldn't comprehend how much you compromised for her, it's not that many to be fair. “I still don't like it, why does he have to be secretive about everything? I just want him to be open to me, is that so hard?” Minji just sinked her head into her mom's embrace. “Oh sweetie, if he's so secretive and you don't like it, maybe you should find someone else?” Minji immediately pulled away from the embrace. “Are you crazy mom?” Her mom just laughed and shrugged. “All I'm saying is, if he's not the one for you then find someone else. If you don't want to, then you need to change as well”, Minji sighed. “I want to change, I want to be able to pick apart his lies like he was a book I've read a thousand times. I need time for that mom, and until then I can only swallow my jealousy and study him”

Your mom took Minji to a hug, “Listen baby, I'm happy that you have grown like this. I would support you with all my heart, but I put your father over you from now on”, That's pretty fucking hard isn't it? “So if he breaks my heart you won't do anything?” Minji scoffed, “No, I would be furious, but I won't do anything to make my husband sad, you know how it is”, Like mother like daughter. “Fine, but I won't take this much longer, I need help in making sure that whore is dead”, Minji is making move my man, “I see, I'll see what I can do”, This does put Minji in a much more relaxed state, at least for the wedding. “Now, smile and have fun, it's your mother's wedding day”

“You're such a problematic child”, Always nice hearing your father losing his patience with you isn't it? “Thanks dad”, You smiled happily, “Whatever, hopefully that Haewon girl won't be the death of you. Mina said her family is quite influential and she is gonna need some extra time”, You frowned upon hearing that, some extra time might cause, unpredictable behaviour for Minji. “Yeah, what can you do? '' Unpredictability is just some fun in your book anyway. “If this marriage ceremony goes to shit just so you know your mom will kill you”, You don't, but it's nice of your father to tell you that.

“It won't dad, now come on it's your wedding day, smile”, He slapped your head, “Yeah thanks dad I'll be outside mingling with the guests”, You fixed your hair for a moment, “Don't cause trouble”, You shrugged without promising him anything. As you get to the venue you start mingling with your dad's business partners. Taking control of the room as you dance along to this social event. Time feels blurry for you as you keep jumping from conversation to conversation. Joining every circle like you belong there before leaving to join another one. This is your playground, you thrive in this place, yet, it feels old, meeting the same face again and again.

Then you look at Minji, coming into the venue, grabbing everyone's attention. Your gaze locked with hers and you sent her a smile. Walking towards her you can see she's imitating her mother's cold aura, although it's weak but it sends the signal that she's not talking to anyone. “You look great Min”, You smiled as you walked up to her, “Thank you oppa, you look great as well”, She smiled happily. “Now, I want to go around meeting your mother's business partners and introduce myself. Hopefully you're ready to just stand there and smile as I socialise okay?” She sighed feeling disappointed, she already expected that you wanted to do that, but she still felt disappointed.

“Okay oppa, lead the way”, Minji sighed, the sound barely audible, but her grip on your arm tightened ever so slightly. She knew the drill, the silent agreement you'd forged in this twisted love of yours. In public, you were brother and sister, an enviable pair navigating the gilded cages of high society. In private, you were something else entirely – something more, passionate and throughly fucked up.

With Minji clinging to your arm like a silent shadow, you began your calculated waltz through the traps of guests. Each introduction, each handshake, was a performance, a tune in the masterpiece you were co-creating. You revelled in the way your mother's associates fawned over you, their surprise of your confidence and eloquence while their eyes were seizing you for any possible threats. This battlefield is nothing but a source of distraction you forced upon Minji so she can take her mind off Haewon.

Minji, though quiet, was not simply a passive observer. Her icy gaze darted through the crowd, missing nothing. She noted the way women's eyes lingered on you, the envy simmering beneath their painted smiles, the subtle unease you evoked in certain men. She is your queen, even in silence, her claws hidden, her loyalty fierce. “You two look practically inseparable," one woman cooed to another, her eyes flitting between you and Minji. "Like siblings from birth”, You laughed at her comment as Minji felt tremor through her body, her grip tightened on your arm as she put on a forced smile. “Well, what do you think sis? Maybe we are separated  from birth”, You laughed, Minji internally cringed the moment you called her sis, “It wouldn't change anything would it?” Such a brazen comment, perhaps even if the two of you are blood connected she would still go after you.

After a while the ceremony finally starts, you and Minji happily sit at the front, side by side watching your parents being united. Her hand stealthily grabbed yours and intertwined your finger together. As your mother reads her vow you can hear Minji speak those vows underneath her breath, audible only to you. You can't help but laugh hearing this desperate plea from her, and as soon as your father read his vows you did the same thing. “I do”, you're not sure if you heard your mom or Minji say that, “I do”, You said as well the moment your father said it. 

Seeing your parents kissing signifying their union you can feel Minji get restless, she wants to kiss you as well. Your parents smiled at the two of you, then Minji just pulled you away from the ballroom as the crowd was cheering for your parents. “So eager already?” You laughed as you followed Minji and brought you to a secluded dressing room. The crowd noise sounds distant and muffled, Minji locked the door before jumping on to you, pressing her lips to yours. Her body is pushing you to the wall as all her desire burns out of her body. “You're my husband now oppa”, A silent declaration in this empty room, is that how your wedding goes? “Baby, I want something a little more…… well more. But okay, we can pretend I'm your fiancé now”, That would suffice for Minji.

Her hands immediately grabbed your shirt and started unbuttoning it, “I want you oppa, we haven't had sex in the last 3 days because of this stupid rehearsal”, She growled before jumping in and biting your collarbone. “So naughty, you want to walk around our parent's marriage with my cum in your stomach?” Perhaps the fact that you said ‘our parents’ is already weird, no? “Those fucking girls, looking at you with lust, those old hags trying to sell you their daughters. I HATE THEM”, She yelled before biting down your neck. “That's gonna leave a mark”, You sighed before undressing your own sister. Unlike Minji you are doing it very gently, making sure you don't ruin her dress.

“Now there babe, don't ruin my pants please, I want to keep it clean”, She scoffed at you but thankfully she pulled your pants off gently. As soon as she pulled out your cock she immediately swallowed it whole. Minji has turned into a throat god as she has been milking you everytime you want to go out. “Fuck Minji, calm down there”, You groaned feeling how eager her tongue is moving. Her gag reflex is all gone as your cock easily passed her mouth into her throat. You can see your cock bulging through her little neck which is very hot. Her eyes look at you with a demanding look asking you to use her mouth like a toy.

You put both hands on her head, “Ready?” Useless question, she was born ready. Immediately you started to fuck her face mercilessly. Wet sloppy noise can be heard as she starts to drool on your cock. Her eyes start to water, ruining her mascara, such a beautiful sight. “Fuck your throat felt so good, sis”, That sounds so wrong yet so hot. Minji grabbed on your thighs for stability as you continued rocking her head up and down. Your hand went to slap her cheek making her let out a moan as you continued pounding her face. Feeling a little bad for her neck you stop moving her head, your hand held her hair gently before you moved your hips instead. 

“Fuck you're si fucking hot when you're like this Mini”, Ruined mascara, red cheek from your slaps and eyes rolled to the back of her head, she look so helpless. Minji loves when she's being used as your doll, being a little submissive girl just to serve her oppa. That's all she ever wanted, and also cutting off any girl who tried to talk to you. Looking down you can see her pussy starts to drip some liquid on the floor, “You like this sis? Being used like a toy?” You slapped her face again making her let out a loud moan as her leg started to squirm. “Fuck you're such a slut, I'm fucking cumming”, You shove it down to her throat as you pressed her head deeper into your crotch, your cock sprays down it's sperm down her throat into her stomach. You can hear her let out a scream as her leg starts to shake from an orgasm she's having.

Once you're done you let go of her hair and pull out your cock, Minji lay down on the floor panting hard as she felt like she might pass out soon. “Hey, you're tired already”, You laughed taunting her, “No, come on oppa, just fuck me already oppa”, She whined as her finger starts to prepare her pussy for you. “Don't need to tell me twice”, You laughed before laying down on her, your cock slipped into her pussy with ease, her pussy is already moulded to accommodate for your length. Your hand rests on her hips holding it tightly as you start to rock back and forth. “Ohhhhh fuck oppaaa”, Her moans echoes through the empty room as you starts to pick up your pace.

Minji's hand grabbed on to your back as her nails started to dig into it, “You're so big oppa”, Knowing full well the best way to arouse you is by stroking your ego. Your hip continues pounding her making a rhythmic slapping noise that fills up the whole room. Soon you can see her body starting to squirm and her nails starting to carve your back. “Cum oppa, pleaseeee”, She can't take it much longer, and her whimpering noises are music to your ears. You grabbed her body, forcing her to stand up and turn her body around. She leaned to the wall for support as you started to pound her from behind. “Ahhhh, oppa”, She moaned as you slapped her ass, “You like that you perv?” You laughed as you slapped her again.

“Oppa, please cum already”, Minji whined as she tried to hold her own orgasm. Your hand grabbed her hair into a ponytail gently before pulling her roughly. “Cum for me baby, I want to hear you scream”, Your other hand wrapped around her and pinched her nipple. You pushed deeper and harder, your hips crashed into hers, making every inch of Minji’s body shake and quake in pleasure until she felt her pussy explode with a mindblowing orgasm that forced her to collapse into the wall. The pounding did not stop with her orgasm, not even in the slightest. 

“I'm gonna fill this tight pussy up", You yelled as your hand gripped her hips and buried yourself balls deep inside her pussy. "Fuck, give it to me, cum in my pussy oppa" She yelled as her orgasm is still going on. Minji felt hot sticky ball batter streaming into her womb as you gripped her throat and choked her, laying over her back with beads of sweat pouring onto her hot body. Your ball emptying everything it has deep into her as Minji felt every twitch your cock is having inside her pussy. As the ecstasy passed you let go of her hand and she slumped down on the wall and sat on the floor, looking up to you with a helpless eye. Then she moves closer to you and starts to clean your cock from any sperm that still sticks on to it.

“Good girl”, You pat her head making her smile proudly, she kissed the tip of your cock as she finished her job before standing up to hug you. “I really want more oppa”, She whined, “That would be unwise baby, we still have a party to attend”, She clicked her tongue before looking at you with fiery eyes, “Once we're home we're gonna fuck and lock ourselves in the bedroom for three days”, Sounds like a challenge, “Okay baby, now go get dressed okay?” You kissed her cheek.

Thankfully her dress isn't ruined by any means, however your shirt was absolutely stained and ruffled by her earlier. “Thank god I brought some back up outfit”, Of course this is gonna happen, you expected this already. “Then let's go sneak back to the changing room oppa, I'm not ready to follow you back to the party”, You haphazardly used your shirt and tried to hide the stains with the blazer you're wearing. Then you and Mini stealthily get back into the dressing room where you change your outfit to a turtleneck and long overcoat. “You're sure you're not cold with that dress babe? It's pretty cold right now, you know?” You said as you fix your hair.

“Hmmmm, I want your coat oppa”, She tried to pull it off of you. “Oh no way lady, if you were more gentle with my blazer earlier I would've given you this. But now that you fucked that one up with your sweat I only have this coat”, She frowned hearing your rejection. That would be perfect for her, the blazer actually isn't totally ruined. There's some little wet spot in it and that's pretty much it. Minji pridefully wore it before posing in the mirror. Thankfully for her, her face would be enough distraction to make sure people didn't realise the little wet spot on the blazer. “Thank you oppa”, She smiled brightly, it's pretty obvious, she want to wear it as a warning for everyone.

“You two are so cute together, are you sure you're just siblings?” The effect is noticeable from your first encounter, “Please, we are also business partner, isn't that right Minji?” You smiled at Minji. “Of course, as the only child for each of our parents we've been taught to take our parent's company, now that they're married we have made an agreement to make sure some inheritance drama wouldn't happen”, Even Minji felt much more confident and chatty while she's wearing your blazer. “Ahhhh, hopefully you don't learn too much from your brother, otherwise you might start to get a lot of suitors soon”, Minji getting flirted on by other guys? Wouldn't that be….. an interesting way to play around with her obsession.

After chatting around for a while you went to the bathroom to just chill around from all the socialising you've been doing. Walking back to the venue however, you find a very interesting view. Minji is talking to a guy, young, a little short, very handsome. You stay silent and just watch her as she hasn't noticed your return just yet. The word talking is very loosely used to describe their interactions. The guy seems very adamant to try and get Minji to talk, yet Minji just smiled and laughed here and there without saying anything to him. Even a blind guy can see that she's highly uncomfortable with his presence. 

Then you see him slip something into her hand before walking away. Minji tried to open it before seeing you are watching her. She immediately ran up to you, “It took you so long”, She said seemingly forgotten about the earlier interaction. “Oh I was here for a while now, but you were busy with your friend so I was just watching”, Your eyes travel to the thing he slipped earlier, it seems to be a piece of paper. She also realised she was holding something, she threw it to the ground but you're fast enough to catch it. “Ohhhh? Isn't this interesting”, Just as expected, it was a phone number, “You should keep this Min”, You smiled trying to put on an angry smile as you gave it back to her.

Her face was filled with guilt and disbelief as you handed her the paper, “No I don't want it”, She crumpled it up before throwing it to a nearby trash can, she missed by the way. “Why not? You two seem to get along very well aren't you?” Her body is shaking as her eyes get teary, dear god it's so easy to tease her. “I'm not cheat-”, You immediately closed her mouth to make sure she didn't finish screaming that sentence. “Don't make a scene, and I need to talk with dad, so wait here”, You gave her an annoyed smile before walking away. 

Minji stays silent watching the wall, her hands tightened her grip and her nail sinks into her palm. You let her marinate in her own anger as you met your mom and dad. “Did you two have a fight already?” Your dad sighed, “Oh no, I was just teasing her”, Your mom looked at you with squinted eyes. “Sweetie, don't make a scene, also next time please try to find a more secure place to fuck, some people can hear you earlier”, Do you care? Does your parents care? “We do care if our special day is gonna be remembered as the start of a nasty rumour for your little endeavours”, Your dad easily read your expression. “Come on now, nothing gonna happen, nobody will know”, The two of them gave you a synced dissatisfied glare. “Okay, we won't be doing any of that, anyway me and Minji gonna go home earlier today okay”, You smiled innocently. “You should go home now”, Your mom said, “That would be bad sweetie, people will start to talk. Go home in an hour, and just sit on the balcony with Minji”, You bow your head in an exaggerated manner to them before walking off to the balcony.

Your eyes scanned the ballroom to see Minji is standing near the corner, her eyes filled with the void as she stares at the guy from earlier. “My sister is my girlfriend, and she's a psycho”, You laughed to yourself before finding Mina. She looks at you the moment you look at her, because she's creepy like that. You gestured to her to come and she silently joined you at the balcony. “Why the fuck are you asking for more time? Don't you always say that you can work efficiently��, She raised her eyebrow for a moment, “It's entertaining to see you panicking sir”, You just laughed at her. “It's amusing isn't it? Look at her, so innocent yet so corrupted already”, You nod at Minji who's watching you now.

“She is, how nice of you to find new toys to play with sir. I'm afraid I might be put in the crossfire now, aren't I?” You nod, Mina doesn't seem to be annoyed or angry about it. “I want to talk to her, Haewon”, What the fuck is wrong with you? Mina looks at you silently before speaking up, “I would say these are easy to manage, however I have a suspicion that you want to talk to her in person and not through a call”, You nod making her sigh. “I'll see what I can do sir”, She left you immediately without saying anything. You glance at Minji who's just staring at you with anger, disdain, guilt and jealousy. 

Then she walks to her mom, your mom, you watch them talk for a while before she walks to you. “I'm gonna kill him”, You're not really sure if that quick of an ending would be fun, “Me?” She shakes her head. “The guy who gave me his number. I'm gonna kill him, for you, to prove that I'm not cheating on you”, You giggled for a second. “I was just teasing you baby, don't get so worked up”, She moves closer to you which you immediately stop. “People are watching Minji, we can't just start kissing out here”, her face frowning even deeper. The two of you stay quiet for a while, she just stares at the floor, her shaking Jody tells you she's trying not to cry. “Let's go home, let's talk to mom and dad and say our goodbye before we go home”, She nodded without looking at you.

“Mom, dad, we are going home. Minji is feeling sick”, You put your hand around your sister as she's still looking down, “Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”, Your dad sighed. “That's quite long dad”, He shake his head, “I can't deal with you anymore. That's it you're out of college from now on, you make her this way you're fixing her”, You see Minji immediately raised her head. “There's nothing to fix, right mom?” You smiled innocently, “He's right dear, my dear Minji is perfect, it's your son that's the problem here”, Your dad nodded. “You're fixing your nasty personality as well. The two of you will be going to a couple therapy”, Don't say it, don't say it, “A family therapy?” The three of them clicked their tongue and rolled their eyes. “Alright see you later mom, dad, don't look for us for the next week okay?” You winked at them before leaving.

On the way home Minji starts to kiss your neck out of anxiety, “What are you doing?” She just moans and continues biting your neck. “Hey, stop that”, She scowls and stops biting your neck, but she continues hugging you. “I will make sure nobody dares to come to me again, oppa. I'm sorry, please don't be mad”, Her apology was sincere, her anger towards that random guy is also sincere. “I was just teasing you back then so calm down. Also you should just leave him alone, his family can get cranky if something happens to him”, She frowned and nodded. This however, is a turning point for Minji, as she disregards your words and goes behind your back.

.

.

.

“Minji”, You sighed while glaring at her, *What's wrong oppa?” She smiled innocently as she kissed your cheek. “Did you kill him? After I told you to leave him alone?” She just shrugged before hugging you, “I don't know who you're talking about”, An innocent smile plastered on her face. You stare at her for a few moments as she continues kissing your neck. “I don't appreciate your disobedience Minji”, You frowned at her, “Oh don't be such a party pooper, I did it for you remember?” You sighed. Of course there's nothing you can do now, you reap what you sow after all. 

“I need to go today, I have a business meeting to follow dad so don't make any trouble”, You decide to drop the subject for now, “Okay, don't come back home late oppa. Don't flirt with any girls okay?” She kissed your cheek before happily walking back to her bed. Something is up, she's been pretty calm after the wedding yet she has never been this calm. You went to meet your dad anyway, what's the worst that could happen? “What are you distracted with?” Your father immediately sees through you. “Minji is being off again, can you tell mom to watch over her?” He shook his head, “I swear to god the two of you are gonna drive me mad. Fine, I'll make her take care of her, now go and be ready for your presentation”, You leave Minji in the back of your mind for now. However problems arise when you finish the presentation and get a call from Mina.

“She's gone”, The first thing you think is that Minji has gone somewhere, then you realise, Mina was tasked to deal with Haewon, not Minji. “Haewon is gone?” It's Minji, of course it is, “Correct, I'm afraid it's your sister-girlfriend sir”, It seems like you might have grown a little too fast. “Fuck”

Once you get home, you find Minji just chilling on the couch, acting clueless while she continues reading her book. The moment you walk in she smiles at you, “How was the meeting oppa?” You stare at her coldly, “Did you do it?” She raised her eyebrow, she's not very good at acting. Perhaps, she doesn't really try to hide it, maybe she got that one from you. “You need to be more specific oppa”, Since when is she this sassy, “Did you, clean up Haewon the same way you clean up your charming suitor”, She frowns a little hearing you call that side character a suitor. “I heard your tutor, Mina, can't seem to do her job properly. So I asked mom”, Aren't you proud? Your little girl is all grown up now.

“Mom can handle these problems better than dad?” Minji just shrugged, “Mom has her ways”, You smiled, my god you are proud of her. “Well, now all is well isn't it?” No, holy fuck no, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You've never seen any proof, but Minji definitely has her twisted tendencies from someone. Who could it be? Could it be her mysterious dad? Or is it her mom, your mom? Could her mom…….. treat your mom as her Haewon? “Oppa? What's wrong? You're happy right? Now there's no one between us anymore”, Minji smiles as she hugs you, her eyes devoid of happiness. They're just inspecting your face in case there is any disapproval.

“What a fucked up finale”, That hits pretty close to home, “Hehehehe, now you're mine oppa, fully”, Minji's hand starts to unbuttoned your shirt. Her lips touched your neck before she sank her teeth deep into it. Look at her, look at what you've made, isn't she beautiful. “Fucking he'll Minji, you're a maniac”, You grunted as your hand grabbed her tits. “Ahhhhh, you love me because of that”, Minji moaned before she continued biting her neck. Her hand finished unbuttoning your shirt and started to unzip your pants. “Should we go to the bedroom first?” Your question was answered by her body that pushes you to the wall. 

Your pants fell off to the ground, her slender hands grabbed onto your cock as she pressed her lips onto yours. She let out moans as her hands are jerking you off. For once she took control of you. It felt good, didn't it? Having her hand aggressively jerk you off as her tongue is exploring your mouth. Your hand went under her sweater and started to fondle her breast, “Pinch it oppa”, She whimpered before continuing her exploration of your mouth. 

Her mouth then starts to lower down and kiss your neck, her hand starts to stroke you faster and faster. “Fuck Minji, you've become such a slut”, She giggled and stop bitting your neck, “I did it all for you oppa”, She whispered in your ears. “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum”, The moment she heard you Minji immediately drop to her knees. She pulls your tip to her mouth as her hand strokes you even faster. “Fuck”, You let out a grunt as you cum into her mouth. “Mmmhhhmm~”, Minji let out a moan as she felt those thick warm cum starts to fill her mouth. Despite her best effort to swallow it all, some still manages to drip out of her mouth, forcing her to use her fingers to wipe it before licking them clean.

“There better be more oppa”, She looked at you using her puppy eyes as she licked her cum stained hands. “Hehehe, get on the couch baby”, Minji stood up and turned around, making sure to poke out her ass towards you. Minji gets on the couch, kneeling on it as her body leaned towards the backrest. “Come on oppa, fuck my ass please”, She wiggle her ass to invite you. You walk closer, your hand grabs her yoga pants before pulling them down, revealing her bare ass. “You're ready baby?” Your finger teases her tight entrance, “Oppa, just fuck me already, fill my ass up daddy”, Did she figure out your kink already? 

Your cock rests in between her cheeks, “You're so desperate already? Tell me first Minji, what did you do to Haewon?” You rubbed your cock between her ass making her feel frustrated. “Stop talking about her already, it's just you and me from now on. Forget about her, and just focus on me, daddy~”, Now how do you deal with her teasing? “Ahhhh, again daddy, spank me harder”, Well, spanking hasn't been a punishment for her anymore. You raised your hand and slapped her ass making her let out a moan, “I told you I got Haewon covered, but you just won't listen do you?” Minji bit her lips and nodded. 

“I can't wait any longer daddy, I hate her, I hate her so much. I want you, I want you to belong to me, forever. Fuck me already daddy, I can't wait for you any longer”, She whined as she wiggle her ass. “Bad girl”, You spank her again making her moan, “I hate it when you won't listen to me”, You spank her again. “I'm sorry daddy, but I can't let her take up a place in your mind anymore. You belong to me, now and forever”, She grunted. That's it, no more waiting, “Aggghhhh, fuck daddy”, Maybe you can penetrate her slower though. “Fucking slut”, You spanked her again making her moan, “Yeah, I'm your slut, fuck me harder daddy”

How is a gentleman supposed to say no to such a kind request? You pick up your pace and pound her even faster. Your hand grabbed on to her hair and pulled her up, “Ahhhhhh, fuck, you're so fucking big daddy, you're breaking me apart”, Minji is filled with ecstasy, and your cock. Your hips starts to live by itself, pounding her mercilessly as her ass jiggle from the impact and your spanking. “Fuck, fill me up daddy, pleaseee”, Her words sends you over the edge, you grunted and pull her hair even harder as you empty your load inside her. “Hhhmmm, that felt good daddy, hopefully you still have some more to give me because my pussy is still aching for you”, Minji moaned as you pulled out your dick, your cum started to overflow and dripped down her ass. 

You sit down on the couch next to her to catch your breath for a second, then Minji jumps on to your lap and starts stroking your cock. “I should stop drinking those pills oppa, because it's time to make you a real daddy”, She kissed you as your cock sprung back into action. “Hopefully, this time you didn't end up like the last girl I impregnate”, She smiled a little before leaning down and whispered in your ear, “Don't worry oppa, nothing will distract you ever again. It's just you, and me, now and forever”

[qvrcll]

mention of injury, unstated relationship but you love each other dearly, mention of mizu’s past

i haven’t finished the series but wanted to write for her SO BADLY, she might be slightly occ im not sure (breaking into hives because of this) but here you go mizu nation, may u be fed FOREVER ^_^

mizu’s on a formidable path for revenge, and what better pill to choke on than leaving you, her best friend and keeper of her love and devotion, behind?

Mizu, who has known you since the two of you were but little nippers. Kids with enough knowledge of the world to know that it was dense and dark, places lit stem-winding, where she was uninvited and tables filled where she was not welcome. Still, you’d asked her for her name when she’d sat caked in mud on some clammy, piddling day. Still, you’d wrapped your arms around her shivering form during the deluge, taken up on her silent promise to “Be there when you wake up. Promise,” when the Smith’s fire bayed up behind her form, lighting the room in tinges and spills, red and then genially orange.

Still, you gather your things when she leaves in a single swear for revenge, catch her up in the snow and demand an answer, or refusal or something, other than that cold look she gets in her eye more than usual now. Your hands feel cramped, threading desperately within the skin to find warmth (which was once, too, her) but you hold yourself back, enforce bite behind your words. Flit back the tears that threaten to line the edge of your eyes — threaten yourself to bide your time and let her deal her blow with you. Leave you for good.

But it’s unexpected. Cruel. Sweet and smelling of tart, when she softens under your words. Her brows twitch when some breath hitches in your throat, bogged down and she knows it’s her fault. She’s leaving, keeping a place for you in that old, warm house, with its old and warm silence and her old and warm absence. Leaving you in the snow, whilst she leaves for blood, gore and teeth.

There’s no words out of her, just a simple, longer silence than her cruelness. Her kindness knows no curbs with you — so her crumbling hands, bearing your cheeks with patience and shivered judgement — come to surprise you, just as her kiss does. It’s cold, and when you catch her lip slowly, the two of you break into a frisson. She grips you tightly in time, hands that burn against your hips as her kiss comes to tear you at the throat, rips a dirge out of it with full force, so that when she parts from you for the air she needs, she quietens you slowly. In a way you have always done with her when her lips bled or her worth shrunk past her feet.

“Just take me with you,” you snivel against her, a child again, but holding the fraying edges of her apparel like she’d hold the fort here for longer, but Mizu lets you crumple the blue fabric beneath digits of bitter flesh. Looks at you with resignation and a little bit of that old warmth, too.

“It’s dangerous.”

“I know—I know,” a pathetic moan, “But you won’t be here.”

“I can’t.”

“Take me with you,” with a voice so hoarse, you repeat. Your fingers bind with the strings and Mizu grows airy beneath you, this affinity that she’s brewed for you (long when you were kids) coming crumbling down beneath her. She imagines a world on fire, flowers that eat at their own roots. A sky full of a burst of water, your watery eyes, the brutal flesh of her wound festering past her hip, her neck.

“I don’t want to lose you — you, out of all people. Please,” she grips your neck, kissing the skin and gooseflesh that simmers with softness, “I love you. Fuck, I really do.”

You fight with a sob then, because, of course you love her. And she loves you. And she will leave you here, with the snow as a tactile reminder of her departure and the cruel winter nights to wonder if she’s fed, if she’s alive, if she’s cold like the rest of the Earth.

“I love you—too,” a choke, “Mizu—“

And perhaps it’s the way you roll it off your tongue, the way the tenderness messes with her like a faint pair of hands, kills any sense of resolve.

Maybe she remembers your face in the dark, years prior, when you’d let her latch onto you, despite the mud and grime flicking into her own clothes. Your kindness, a friendship and the love she’d borrowed from you and made it her own, with sickly hands. With healthy hands. With growing hands.

And perhaps the blood strips off her own hands, clouds your eyes red where she remembered it not being. And perhaps, she grows a little afraid of being away from you, too.

Because she’s gripping you tight, tighter than life. The cold air no longer bothers the two of you, for there’s a newer, tender heat beneath the limbs that hold onto each other like a promise. One that she spoke of — a quiet utterance of “I’ll be there” — before you depart with her, holding the two of you together as one and the snow beneath your footwear.

© 2023 qvrcll ! do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[getvalentined]

I've never done a full breakdown of everything that happened to my version of Vincent while he was under the knife (although there is a partial breakdown from like 12 years ago on Ask Vincent Valentine), but @spinejackel tagged my recent Vincent doodle gushing about autopsy scar (Vincent Has a Y-Incision headcanon supremacy!) so I figured it was probably a good time. This is also probably the best method, since I can apply the right tags and trigger warnings to hopefully keep it from hitting the people who would be disturbed.

For anyone who doesn't know, figuring out the fucked up physiology of victims of science is like my entire jam. I think this is what happens when you let a chronically ill child watch Akira and the original Bubblegum Crisis OVA and most of the works of Masamune Shirow. All that before FF7 even existed. This means that the explanation under the cut may seem excessive, and this post is very long. I've been building it over over a quarter century, I don't think there's any avoiding it at this point.

Warnings for body horror, nonconsensual body modification, medical horror and torture. Basically, if there's anything you can think of related to becoming a victim of science under the rule of an unethical sci-fantasy oligarchy, it's probably in here to some degree. It's explained plainly and simply, in clinical but not visceral detail.

My headcanons for what Hojo did to Vincent are pretty specific, albeit not precisely comprehensive; 27 years later I still don't really have a particularly solid concept for how he turned Vincent into a shapeshifter, although at least we know it's not something entirely specific to Vincent—Hojo repeated that facet of the experiment in Azul, but not in any other SOLDIER operative even in DeepGround, implying that it's only possible if very specific physiological conditions are met. The minimal concept I do have involves a twisted application of the concept of incarnate summoning as it appears in FFXIII-2, but it's very vague and also not the topic of this post. Maybe later.

Regarding the Y-incision/autopsy scar, my headcanon is that once Hojo tweaked Vincent into being able to regenerate from any injury—an enhancement that is confirmed to be entirely Hojo's work in Dirge—the professor of course felt it necessary to run various tests quantify the usefulness of his handiwork. He did this first by inflicting various surface injuries, then by causing more extreme bodily trauma, which eventually culminated in Hojo removing the majority of Vincent's internal organs in order to measure how long it took them to grow back and, assuming they did grow back, how the new ones compared to Vincent's original parts.

To be able to observe this as closely as possible, Hojo kept Vincent's torso open for the entire process—which he repeated twice more in order to check the weight, size and structure of the newly-grown organs in comparison to the originals. This study proved that most of them did grow back, but the majority of them stopped developing much earlier than was appropriate for Vincent's age and size. The difference was consistent, Hojo just never figured out why most of them grew back smaller and less-developed.

The reason this happened is based the fact that most of the organs in the human trunk are used in digestion and other related processes, and Vincent's regeneration means he doesn't need to eat or drink anymore. His body only expended as much energy as was completely necessary to develop those organs to the point of being functional rather than normal, because they're not really necessary. Vincent is glad he still has them, though, because he does still occasionally eat (usually in social situations) and also he'd be really sad if he couldn't even have coffee.

Vincent's brain activity remained normal during the entire process, although that may have something to do with Hojo driving a bunch of fluid lines into his head and flooding the inside of his skull with mako to keep him awake the whole time even while deprived of oxygen. (Rebirth spoilers, but seeing the bit in the Nibelheim Protorelic questline where Hojo does something super similar to this, after this has been my headcanon for decades, was a trip.)

Two organs didn't grow back at all: Vincent's appendix and one kidney. This was also the result of efficient energy expenditure, as the human appendix isn't necessary for survival, and only one kidney is really required. (Each time Hojo removed the new kidney, the one that grew back would be on the opposite side, which bothered Hojo to no end.)

His lungs grew back a little larger, possibly because his skeletal structure never quite recovered after his first transformation into Galian—his arms and legs are noticeably too long for his body, although not to the point of looking impossible, and likewise his ribcage settled to breadth that would allow for larger lungs. He doesn't really need these anymore either, related to his brain being exposed to so much mako during the process that it can now operate without oxygen if necessary, but switching himself over from aerobic to anaerobic respiration is really unpleasant and Vincent tries to avoid it when he can.

His heart was pretty normal by the time Hojo was done with him, although his heartrate had dropped to like 20bpm even when elevated. Again, if respiration isn't necessary, there's not much reason for the system to be active. (By the time Lucrecia was done this had dropped to around 5bpm on average, although it's completely arrhythmic and jumps all over the place when he's not either particularly active or on the verge of a transformation.)

This was the experiment that left Vincent susceptible to degradation, which Hojo didn't realize until after finally closing him back up. Upon realizing that Vincent's body wasn't responding properly to a different test (a repetition of an earlier experiment related to the regeneration of external tissues and features), Hojo just kinda threw him in a tube to be disposed of at a later date, kinda like that scene in Arrested Development where there's that dead dove in a bag in the fridge. The incision healed at some point during the period that Lucrecia was working on him, but early enough in her work that the tissue couldn't flawlessly regenerate (like it does in the present), leaving him with one more gnarly scar on top of all the rest.

Vincent is self-conscious about all the physiological changes brought on by what was done to him, often to the point of loathing. His left arm is the worst—it rotted off while he was in the throes of degradation and grew back as something that he hesitates to call his arm—but Vincent hates that Y-incision scar almost as much. Some days they tie.

(It has come up in appropriately horrified conversation with Shalua that, considering how his regeneration works, Vincent could probably get rid of all the scars on his chest if he somehow peeled the skin off his torso in a single swath. He will not be doing that. Besides, it might grow back the wrong color/texture/etc, like his left arm. Not worth the risk, much less the suffering.)

Also I gotta finish off this entry with the extremely stupid headcanon reveal that Vincent's (honestly fairly impressive) dick was cut off during the first round of bodily trauma regeneration tests—and Hojo has never felt the sort of rage he experienced upon discovering that it grew back bigger than before. This occurred early enough in the experiments that Vincent was not awake for it, and thus has no idea how the fuck this happened, and does not want to talk about it ever thank you very much. I've never mentioned it in public anywhere because it is extremely stupid, but I hope someone out there finds it as funny a concept as I do.

[buffaloborgine]

Before reading, I want to emphasize, I don't hate Sephiroth as a character, I hate how some people dismiss all of his heinous acts and cling to "He is a victim" and shove the tragedy he caused onto other characters. About that one post about Sephiroth and someone replying to it, let me be clear: I don't deny Sephiroth was a victim. Like many, he was the victim of Shinra and Hojo, that's undeniable. But to write like he is a good person and all the bad things he did were influenced by his upbringing? NO. Sephiroth is selfish, and no matter what you try to bend the narrative to fit your imagination, it is a fact. When the theme of FFVII is about "imagination/illusion", if we use the structure of protagonist vs antagonist, Cloud is the one that was affected by the illusion but he accepted help from others and got over it. Sephiroth would simply be the reversed version of that, he wasn't even illusioned, he knew for sure what he is but deciding that it was better for him if everyone else, and even himself stayed in that illusion forever. Sephiroth wasn't the only character to be affected by Shinra's evilness, but then let's take a look at those who also were affected: - Zack once learned and accepted that Shinra is evil had started running away with Cloud. - Angeal and Genesis don't share the same reaction but eventually once accepted the truth, they both rebelled against Shinra (also Lazard). - The Turks and Rufus are easy to see, I don't need to explain. - The massacred 1st SOLDIER unit mentioned in Dirge of Cerberus, fighting against the creation of inhuman Deepground facility. - Deepground themselves, they know what they are and they fought against Shinra, knowing they would even die if they do. So many would say, but Sephiroth does disobey Shinra and that he wanted to leave Shinra. Vetoing orders onto co-workers' heads doesn't seem to be a good way to protest, rather that's just push the responsibility onto others. And about "wanting to leave Shinra", as far as I remember, Sephiroth just said he would consider the idea, not that he would ever leave, and even till the event of Nibelheim, he didn't leave Shinra, not at all. So let's put this together, should we just see Sephiroth as a victim and say he isn't accounted for other tragedy happened in FFVII? Personally? Of course not. There are other victims and they fought back their abuser in different ways, maybe causing mayhem on the route but they still fought for their freedom. Sephiroth has never once given a single thought for others, and he was comfortable staying in Shinra, after all, he got the privilege for 1st Class, can veto orders and get admired by other SOLDIERs. To debunk people who claim that Sephiroth was thoughtful about Genesis' injury: Who was the one causing that mess in the first place? And even when you look at the cutscene, it was less of caring thought but more of "Why I am inadequate for this?" If he was sincere, he would have gone to check on Genesis later, but nope, he assumed Genesis was fine, like really, what kind of friend is that? No fucking friend would just assume friend is fine knowing they are hurt, no fucking friend would just condemn friends as traitor while not knowing the reason why they leave, and no fucking friend would keep their friends in the dark while knowing they are being tricked, abused. In conclusion, please stop saying Sephiroth is a good friend to anyone. If he cannot earn Zack's forgiveness, he is a prick, but if even Weiss stood against him (in DFFOO), consider he surely won't get any redemption.

[1427]

dirge

Boyd Crowder X OFC (Beatle)

Setting: in the WoOoOods (Justified Season 1, with Boyd’s militia)

Summary: Boyd is sick of being full of shit. When one of the recruits for his new flock seems to see him for who he really is, he decides it might not be so bad to let her.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, Boyd Crowder is Boyd Crowder, mentions of white nationalism, mentions of methamphetamine, religious imagery and references, mentions of militias, cults, and Boyd comparing himself to Christ (see above). NSFW WARNINGS; poooooooorly written smut, somno, rough fucking, unprotected piv, references to oral, jerking off, mentions of religion being used in sexual roleplay. mentions of other truly questionable roleplay scenarios, free-use dynamics

A/n: I started watching Justified a few days ago and Boyd Crowder really is one of the characters of all time, isn't he? Beatle is my OC who likes speed and sometimes sells it and sometimes strips but I obviously couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if Beatle had been in one of those trailers he’d held looking for people to follow his cause. Especially since she's just absolutely fucking dazzled by charm and confidence and she'd love him in a way he'd probably never been loved before. Couldn't not write it & I broke my own heart.

Inb4 I disappear for 3 months again

18+ mdni 

✞

Boyd didn't think his daddy would hang her up there with the rest of them. 

She was special, didn't he know that? Couldn't he tell? 

Her hair’s never smelled like gunpowder before. It's more a feeling than a smell, and it stings but he's grateful that it hurts. He deserves it. 

Boyd didn't think his daddy would do any of this. But he wasn't thinking, was he? He should have seen it coming, should have known. Not ‘should have’ in the way that hindsight is 20/20 and you can make wanton wishes about the past; no Boyd should have because he does know better. He's smarter than to let something like this happen.

✞

When he got out of prison he knew he was full of shit. Same shit he'd always been full of. He figures it ain't really like lyin’ so much if everyone knows you're never showing your real face. Talking is more like a game. Trying to spit the words out around the secret biting between his teeth. Secrets? He figures he's allowed to have those. Like what his intentions might have really been when he'd started recruiting junkies to be saved. Be his flock. 

Different vocabulary, same game, same moves, same outcome. 

Boyd did think that there would be a different outcome this time. Everyone always ends up dead, but how could that happen this time? He knows that putting a gun to someone's head and mocking them into sobriety ain't exactly safe and its definitely not legal but it's what works. Who could rightly question his methodologies if he was getting such socially acceptable results? 

The point (as the point of things usually is for Boyd) is that there are enough qualifiers for him to feign confusion and innocence at any question of his motivations. Like he was so damn good at. Boyd had a reply for anything. A defense for everything he'd ever done. Everything he'd ever do. Else he wouldn't be caught doing it. 

This time was easier. This time actually felt like it could be something more. That even though he was using his knowledge of the human condition, and its drive to follow a strong and confident leader, that this time he was doing it for something good at least.

How could getting rid of meth in Harlan county be bad? Boyd asks himself that a lot these days. Whenever he starts wondering how full of shit he is again. And he tells himself it doesn't matter if he's lying about every damn thing, even to himself, if he's getting people clean and following the Lord. 

He doesn't feel that guilty, though. Not enough to really do anything different. His flock is his flock, and when he talks about God he makes sure to word it just right. So they hear it and they think of him. Boyd’s teachings are their gospels, and sometimes Boyd quotes scripture so he can call on God like he's name-dropping a celebrity. It's what works. It's what always worked.

If you’re good at saying the right thing to the right person you can get just about anything you want. If you're good at finding the perfect time to say it, you can keep it. Gettin’ stuff is no good if you can't keep it. That's what all these Dixie boys always got wrong about business. Hell, what everyone got wrong about everything - getting people to just give you what you want always feels so much better than taking it. Usually ends better to.

Before prison, for most of his life, it was skin-heads. He'd already known the slurs and the on-the-surface racial epithets from growing up but it only took a few weekends at the library and a couple eavesdropped Klan meetings to understand what these men were searching for. Only took a few well timed bible verses and an encouraging nod or two to get them to listen. The hardest thing of the whole operation was keeping them from being stupid when he wasn't around.

“Can't plan for everything.” “Sometimes shit just happens.” and “It is what it is.” Are just some bullshit excuses people tell themselves. Because Boyd knows that anything can be planned for. It's just a matter of looking. It's just a matter of knowing. He knows that you don't enter a room without knowing there's an exit and that you don't open your mouth unless you know exactly what could be said back to you. 

Boyd knows how to get what he wants.

But since he's been out of prison he doesn't know what the fuck he wants. So he does what he always does but this time it's with words like shepherd, divine calling, and manifesting righteous love. It feels nice to be leading through positive affirmations instead of bigotry. If only because Boyd really resented how objectively moronic white supremacy was - anything ‘supremacy’ was a fucking joke. And those boys in the brotherhood thinking they were God's gift to the genepool? Hard not to see it when you're lookin’, how ridiculous the whole damn thing is.

That's why it didn't feel all that bad talking down to them. Manipulating them into whatever the fuck he felt like. Boyd wonders about it when he feels this tugging in his gut sometimes when he talks to his flock. It doesn't bother him enough to stop, but just enough to wonder why he hadn’t felt it before.

Maybe it's because she's watching and she knows he's full of shit. 

That doesn't usually make any difference to Boyd and his ability to believably speak lies but every time he meets her eyes he feels like she can see his soul, the things behind what he's saying, and it makes him want to stop. Like he's embarrassed. Just a little. Just barely. It's so foreign to Boyd that if he didn't know just about every physical tell a person's body could have, he wouldn't have been able to place it. 

If Boyd had to find the words to explain it he might have said it felt like he wanted her to see him. That his body and his mind have, as most humans have, the desire to be vulnerable with another human being. That he was meeting something in her that his inner self craved. These were words he'd use. But actually feeling them was harder. His list of wants in life is small and it's been the same things for as long as he's been playing snake in the grass. She's not on it. She never was before. 

✞

She isn't anymore. 

For a few weeks, Boyd let himself have something he didn't think he was allowed. Something he'd told himself he didn't deserve. 

He wonders now if he was full of shit that whole time too. If letting her hold him and kiss him and fall in love with who he really was - if he wasn't just doing it to see if he could.

Her hair never burned his nostrils before.

It's not meant to do that. 

Kissing her forehead never tasted like blood either.  Maybe it should have. Maybe if he'd tasted blood the first time he'd kissed her none of this would have happened. 

Boyd doesn't understand how his daddy couldn't tell she was special. Not when he’d seen it the second she opened her mouth down the barrel of his own gun. Boyd knows she didn't go quiet and he knows if she could open her mouth and talk right now her throat would be sore and raw and ruined. 

He tries not think about how he couldn't hear her. He’s not sure if he wishes he had. 

✞

Beatle didn't get it at first but it didn't take her long. Faster than he'd expected. And maybe if he'd met her on a college campus he wouldn't have been so impressed with her. But what was Boyd ever gonna be doing on a college campus? No, as far as he was concerned it was like lookin’ at himself. 

Almost.

She didn't want the same things, and that didn't lead her to be the same type of person Boyd was. But it didn't stop him from seeing himself in her. All her big words and sweet banter. Even with a damn gun to her head she knew how to be cool. He thought he might be in love with her. 

She'd told him later that it was because she'd seen the way he'd looked at her and knew he wasn't going to shoot her. He told her he still would have shot her if she didn't agree to quit using. She tells him she loves him for the first time. 

It had only been a few days since that had happened, them meeting, and after she’d said it she tried to explain it away. It's the first time he sees her not being so cool. It’s the first time he sees the potential for something more.

Not because she'd slipped up and been vulnerable or given him something to use against her. No, it was the feeling in his chest when she'd professed such genuine admiration for what would generally be considered something he should have kept to himself.

The quiet part he's gotten so good at not saying out loud. The secret between his teeth. She can see it.

✞

Days go by and he's certain she can see it. The way Raylan can see some of it. She starts calling him ‘the prince' around camp and she thinks he doesn't understand why. No one else does, and he supposes that's probably why he's letting her get away with it. He's amused by it. By her. Always saying something that ends up surprising him. 

Just some gaunt addict he found in a shitty trailer in children's pajamas, but she's making observations about him in comparison to Italian philosophy. She can't keep herself from pointing out when he ‘mistakenly’ attributes some quote from a book or movie to himself instead. She uses words he doesn't know.

Those aren't the things that impress Boyd. What catches his attention is that she never uses the words like manipulate or Machiavelli or cult. If she ever does call him out on some misattributed quote she won't call him a liar, and she won't do it in earshot of anyone else. And when she uses her big girl words she looks at him like she's teasing him instead of trying to impress him. She knows when he's wrong about the obscure ass Bible stories too and he has no idea how she knows this shit. 

Going out of her way to call him on being full of shit - without ever actually saying it at all.

She's good. She keeps being better at it than he'd thought someone could be. Someone like her. Someone who wasn't really anyone.

Maybe that's why Boyd felt like he could let her in on it. Just a little bit. Because she could see it and he knew she could and she never called him a liar or a bastard or a psycho or anything like that. She didn't even try to leave. If anything, she seemed charmed by it. 

He didn't think too much about how it might feel to let someone in like that. What it could be like to show your real face and still be wanted. 

✞

Their first kiss doesn't taste anything like blood. 

It tasted like tobacco and dirt and her.

She'd been trying to figure a way to sleep closer to him during the nights. Boyd figures this out after she finally ‘confesses’ that she hasn't been sleeping well,  she's ‘scared of the dark’.

He asks her how long it took her to come up with that bullshit.

She says two days.

He asks why she didn't come up with something better and can't argue when she says there really wasn't anything that didn't sound obvious.

It takes about an hour for her to be pressed up against him. They'd started with their sleeping bags a few feet away from each other, but as they talk the distance gets smaller. Boyd isn't sure if it's her or him that's moving in. Isn't he supposed to pay attention to stuff like that? Shouldn't he be at least a little aware of what she says and what she doesn't say and how she's moving and speaking and staring? 

He's in the middle of a story about one of the banks, talking at her about some really ‘cool’ shit he'd said and never gotten to tell anyone (he never thought he'd wanted to) - and without a word she unzips her sleeping bag, unzips his sleeping bag, and rearranges. Making enough room for her to fit right up against him.

And she does.

Boyd keeps talking the whole time. Finishing his story. She listens, and replies, and neither one of them comment on what she's doing. Neither one of them say anything when she's nestled up against him.

He thinks it through… what to do in this situation. What outcome did he want? His dick is hard but it's not aching. He could sleep. He figures making her wait won't hurt his chances if he decides he wants them. 

So he tells her politely goodnight and he's surprised when she doesn't protest. 

Beatle rolls over and he pulls her close. No harm in being close. Really there was no harm in fucking her either, but it didn't feel like the right moment. Everything has its right moment.

He keeps thinking about fucking her and once again he isn't sure who started moving first but he's pulling her over his cock like her body was his to move how he wanted. It was definitely her who started it, he reasons, arching her back into him and wiggling around - but he could've dealt with it. Could've told her to stop, told her no, told her anything that he knew would shut her down.  But just as he was about to say something she turned her head to look back at him. 

She didn't twist her neck and meet his gaze romantically - pressing her hips delicately into his. No, she folded her body at her hips, completely arching herself against him, looking back and up at him like he was already fucking inside of her.

Boyd knows that when he grabs her hips hard enough to bruise her that she likes it that way. Even if she didn't say all the obvious shit that made him know. 

He's not gonna fuck her. Not tonight. But he uses her body to cum and he doesn't feel bad because he's never felt bad about something human like that. And anyway, she liked it. He knows because he can smell how wet her cunt is. He knows because she was a shaking mess, moaning at just the feeling of dull pressure. He knows because she begged him to cum. 

She begged him to cum instead of begging him to fuck her and Boyd thinks he might be in love again.

She turns around and kisses him and her face has dirt on it from where he'd pressed her head into the ground but he likes the way it tastes on her. 

She kisses like an apology. A real one. One that comes from your whole fucking soul because you never felt anything more. Trying to connect. Fully. Deeply. 

Tuggin’ on heart strings is a saying he's always heard and it always made sense until now when he actually feels it for the first time. Boyd, who's so keen on behavior and mannerisms and what was gonna happen next, feels everything she has.

He's been here before with women. Some of them were different but if he was honest most of them were the same. A sigh here, a disgusted look there. Knowing how a woman feels about you might be the easiest observation a man could make.

So Boyd was expecting what he'd gotten from her when he was grinding into her. All shaking and whimpering and he'd probably either have to take the lead or stop it - either was okay by him depending on what he felt like.

But she's someone else. Again. With one leg hooked around him and her hands around the back of his neck and in his hair - she takes his mouth with hers like she's evangelizing. Pushing everything she has into him and he can feel it. More than a physical something. More than her fingers pressing into the pulse at his neck. More than his cock getting hard again and this time it settles right between them.

He finally breaks the kiss only to ask her if she knows he can feel her clit every time it quivers against him. He only asks because he wants to feel it again.

Boyd’s good at talking. Beatle loves it. 

He asks her so many filthy things. Things he'd never got away with asking someone else. Boyd knows there's not much you can't get away with saying with a whisper and a southern accent, but this… this was new even for him.

He wasn't sure what came over him. Why he needed her to know that he's been pretty sure he can tell when she's thinking about giving him head. About the glazed over look in her eye and how her mouth hangs open a little wider than she probably thinks it does when she's staring.

Or why he has to tell her that his cock was hard the whole time he had his gun on her the first night they met.

And he's not going to fuck her but he sucks on her tits like they've been eucharized. He can't stop talking because he can't get enough of every little fucking reaction.

Boyd figures out what it is when he's in the middle of telling her about how he knows her pussy is pretty and pink and the same color as her lips and how, he knows it's bad, but sometimes when she's talking to him all he can think about is what his cock would look like pressed up against her teeth -  Beatle's body seizes on him a little bit different than it had been seizing before; and it all just clicks.

Getting a reaction from her was like breathing. Nothing in his life had ever come so easy. Or so fun. 

She was letting him play with her. 

All his silly little mind games everyone else hated so much. She liked it. Not in the way he’d meant for her to like it. 

She liked him. Actually. 

He's really not sure why he told her about cumming on her pajama pants before he threw them out. He was sure he'd take that one to the grave. But he tells her about it while jerking  off onto her stomach because he wasn't going to fuck her but he needed to cum again. 

And she eats the mess from her fingers from her belly and Boyd is certain he's allowed to be in love. 

✞

Boyd had reasoned himself through a lot of things. Justifying almost anything. This? This he was having a hard time with. All he had going for him is that she'd liked it.

That she asked for it again afterwards.

Because when Boyd wakes up and the sun is peaking through the trees he can finally really see what her tits look like. Half falling out of her top. And when he reaches down to touch her there, her lips part. He thinks about how her pussy is the same color as her mouth and he thinks about how he told her that and how she reacted and he can't stop his hands even if he wanted to.

That's what he tells himself. He's reading her blind like a set of runes, it's not his fault her body is calling him this way. And she's reacting. So how could he stop? He can't. 

He's not sure if she's sleeping or pretending to sleep and he'd be lying if he said he thought that hard about it. Hard enough to care. His fingers dip between her legs and even through her underwear he can feel it. Sticky and warm and hers. 

Boyds hands seem to know what to do the same way his mouth does. Working the fabric of her panties down just slowly enough to not move her. He didn't want to fuck her he just wanted to feel it. 

She spreads her legs for him a little, laying on her belly; another miracle. Another sign he shouldn't stop himself. The Lord was working through him. 

This time he knows he's full of shit but he's rubbing his cock along her soaked lips and he can feel her clit tremble again and he doesn't feel bad when he pushes into her.

Her eyes jolt open like he'd been waiting for and the look on her face is an expression he doesn't think he's ever seen before. Something like fear and trust. Something someone like Boyd could get addicted to. 

He fucks her into the ground. He wants to look at her face again so he pulls her head back by her chin. She meets his gaze like she'd been waiting for it. This. To look at him like this while he fucked her.

She bows her head and takes his fingers into her mouth. She tries to move her head and Boyd knows exactly what the fuck she wants so he gives it to her. Fishhooking his fingers into her cheek while he backs up and off her a little. Sitting her up on her knees before pushing her shoulders back down again. 

Boyd knows how to get what he wants. He wants to go watch himself disappear inside of her. 

He'd almost forgotten where they'd started this, but when he remembers he has to stop himself from finishing then…. Just barely pushing into her again and it reminds him of that first time. 5 minutes ago when she was asleep.

Boyd can't stop thinking about how she'd woken up wanting him. This desperate. This wet.

That he could make her want it even when she couldn't know anything.

She opens her fucking mouth one fucking time and it's to tell him to fuck her pussy like he fucking owns it. And it was kind of corny and it didn't quite hit as well as he thought something she could say during sex would and he's not mad or anything but she adds “because you do.” and Boyd buckles. 

Falling on top of her body like her words hit him he holds her still as he ruts up into her. It's desperate and vulnerable and yet still completely overpowering. He tells her to say it again and she says the whole thing. He tells her no just the last part and she

Starts professing just how much he fucking owns her pussy. How it's never been for anybody else, from the second she saw him she wanted him. She felt him there, she always wanted to feel him there. Deep in her fucking cunt because it fucking belonged to him. 

He asks her whenever he wants it?

She repeats him in breathless moans as he slows his pace

He asks her even if she's sleeping.

She tells him that she’s never been more turned on in her whole life.

He asks her why

Because he took it without asking.

Because he knew it was his.

Boyd cums so fucking hard he's vaguely aware that he's hurting her. Pressing her into the ground and she can't breathe but he knows she'll be okay in a second and he knows she doesn't care. He knows she prefers it this way. Even if she hadn't said it.

✞

For the next two weeks Boyd fucks her in just about every way he can think to fuck her. All the things he's ever wanted to try. Like waking her up by stretching her out. He can't believe he's never been able to wake someone up like that before.

He can't believe how much he likes it.

Responding to her body and giving it what it wants when she can't even speak. He's sure it's is favorite thing that they do.

He does things with her that he’d never actually considered before, too.

He plays pretend with her. Not in front of the others but they'll go out to the creek and he'll baptize her and they fuck in the water or on the edge or against a tree. 

Or Beatle gets down on her knees like she's really praying and pretends to be confused when his cock head pokes at her mouth asking what he's doing and he gets to play along and say it's what the good Lord itends for her.

One time he laid her down and they pretended that as her pastor it was his holy duty to impregnate her with Christ.

Boyd didn't know he would get off on this shit. He's certain he wouldn't be if it wasn't with her. Who's mouth was so believable and reactions so pure - he doesn't have to wonder anything. 

She likes it or she doesn't and she always fucking likes it. 

✞

The sky is hazy and it looks like it might rain. Beatle asks him if he has any family and Boyd doesn't really know what to say. He doesn't want to lie but he doesn't want to talk about it.

He tells her no.

She asks if he's lying because he doesn't want them to meet her.

Boyd’s heart pangs again like it did when she'd kissed him that first time. All desperate and real and alive. He shakes his head and tells her no. She was too good for them.

He can tell she doesn't believe him. But saying nothing is better than saying more. And he knows she'll let him get away with not answering this one.

He tells her it doesn't matter anyway because he's pretty sure he loves her. And it's the first time he says it but it's not the first time he's felt it. Beatle believes him. 

Boyd is pretty sure she's never believed those words in her whole life before now. 

His heart pangs again.

✞

Bo Crowder was a scary sonofabitch. That's what Beatle said under her breath as he was walking up to their camp. Boyd’s glad she said it quiet because she didn't know how right she was.

She didn't know that was his daddy.

She knew about the meth shipment he was yelling about. Something he normally wouldn't have told her, even though it wasn't a secret necessarily. Something about wanting to protect a woman from the dangers of this world. 

But Boyd needed Beatle. He trusted her. She was part of this with him. He didn't want her the way he wanted all of the rest and he wanted all of the rest to know it too. Something about making her feel like she was someone. 

He knew he was saying and doing things at just the right times to make her feel special. But it's not like he didn't mean them. She treated each one like a fucking gift. Each public display, every private whisper. Every touch of their fingers and especially every time he buried himself inside her.

✞

It occurs to him on his walk through exile, while his people were no doubt being strung up and taken away by lawmen, that he doesn't think he can live without her. Well, at least that he doesn't want to. He reasons he shouldn't have to. 

She didn't break any laws anyway and Raylan will probably hand her over personally when her record comes back clean. He'd asked her and she said she had no charges she'd known of. She'd know. 

So, be patient. Wait it out. He runs through it again, in his head, all the stuff his daddy said. That they were gonna have them dig up the guns then tie em to a tree and call the feds.

He said a lot of other stuff too. About not being a son not being a leader not being nothing. Boyd was always sure he was nothing so none of that shit felt like anything. The first few blows his daddy makes his cousin give him don't feel like much of anything either.

Seeing Beatle’s face is what does it. He's sure he's rocked a few more times but he doesn't remember anything after seeing her look at him like that. 

✞

Boyd tries not to remember Beatle for the way she looked at him then. He tries really hard to remember the few seconds he'd gotten to touch her hand before his daddy shot that gun one last time at him to get out of there. 

He wishes he remembered it better but it's so fuzzy and barely there. He wishes his cousin would have just fucking beat him to death. He wishes that one prick ass degenerate addict piece of shit good for nothing follower who snitched out where the guns were would come back to life so he could rip apart every bit of him.

Because she'd probably still be alive. Boyd’s sure of it. If he'd died instead she'd be alive and the world wouldn't fucking feel like this. 

✞

For a while he has delusions that it’s the Real Deal out and out End O’ Times. That with her went all the light and all the good because he just couldn't seem to reason why.

Couldn't his daddy see she was special?

Couldn't he see that she was divinely made for him? 

That their love could have changed the world. 

It could have changed him.

Boyd can't reason with his daddy because he's dead too.

✞

After even longer Boyd convinces himself he was full of shit the whole time. That Beatle was just some girl he stuffed his cock into to feel good about himself while he was reintegrating back into society. 

Just some junkie, and if she was still alive she'd be back to using again. They wouldn’t have been anything because Beatle wasn't anyone.

She thought she was special, but don't they all? 

Boyd doesn't think about it much anymore. When he does he only lets himself think one thing.

She couldn't have been real. Not the way he thought she was. He must have been wrong about her and he would have figured it out eventually. 

He can't let himself think about her the way she really was.

The memories of her then are remembered by no one. Not a soul on this earth. Not even the ground they fucked on or the pond he made her piss in so he could watch. Not even in the stump that she'd carved their initials into because Boyd went back and he cut it all apart so sure that wasn't real either. 

He keeps being so sure it wasn't real.

He convinces himself that some initials carved in a tree is just something childish and stupid and that's why he destroyed it. He convinces himself that it wouldn't have broken her heart.

He’ll convince himself of just about anything to keep from thinking about what it felt like to be loved. Because that's what it was, right? Love? 

So he doesn't think about her. Or then. Or what happened and what didn't. 

✞

It's the gunpowder. Every time it starts to sting up his sinuses he can feel her hair soft against his lips. And every time he closes his eyes and he remembers her. What it felt like to realize she was up there with the rest of them.

Maybe someday Boyd will let himself remember what it felt like to love her. He worries that by the time he’ll be ready he won't remember what she looked like anymore.

What she felt like.

He already forgets most of the stuff they'd talked about. He just knows she was special. He knows no one else would get it anyway. Why he wanted to let himself be stuck there forever. In those words. Dying. How three weeks could feel so much bigger.

Boyd keeps going out there despite how much he convinces himself he's not thinking about her. Everything time he smells the gunpowder. 

He keeps finding reasons to use his gun. 

Because even though in that memory she's dead it's the realest one he's got. 

He doesn't think about her dead.

If he absolutely has to, laying down in the dirt where the camp used to be, he thinks about the way she looked when he'd told her he was pretty sure he loved her.

Sometimes he thinks about her mouth or her body or the way she always seemed to know what to do with them - but mostly he just thinks about the way she looked at him. Praying to be a better man for the next time around this life because she deserved more than God would allow him to give. The choices he had made previous to loving her had tainted his soul. Turned it rotten and poisoned her before he'd barely even gotten the chance. She'd paid for his sins. So he prays next time he meets her without any. 

Boyd wishes just one time he would lay down out here and not get up. 

He leaves the woods, convincing himself he was full of shit with her the same way he was full of shit with everyone, the memories of her die again, and he forgets about her until his subconscious finds some reason for him to fire a gun.

Any reason.

Boyd remembers enough about her to know she'd have liked that.

✞

A/n; it wasn't really proofread? (Well it was but I'm not very good at it) ALSO idk about this writing style either, i know it's kind of different? And in my opinion probably more juvenile but I had fun writing it this way. 🤷🏻‍♀️

(I'll make a different post about where I'm at with my wips~)

[dashofmonsters]

Bonds of Blood & Delight- Prologue

Male Fae x F!Reader

"A bard? They'll let anyone in here these days," the gate guard scoffs as he tosses your order badge back at you.

The badge nearly slips out of your hand but you manage to grasp it and refasten it to your cloak. You hate when people call you a bard, even if they're not exactly wrong. You're a mage of the Order of Delight. Yes, a lot of entertainers have come from it but there are serious mages who take their skills beyond just illusions and spell crafted songs.

"I've taken the aptitude test like everyone else and sent in my qualifying spells. I've been accepted because I meet the standards," you frown at the guard as he checks your name.

"Whatever makes you feel better. You'll take a left once the gate opens and go towards the west tower where all the first years go," He sniffles and opens the gate.

You collect yourself and walk forward, trying not to feel too ruffled by the bard comment any longer. You've made it this far on your own with your own brand of spells. You're the first mage in your order to invent new spells in over two hundred years as well as the first to get accepted into the High Tower of magic research and development.

Here you'll be able to make a difference, here you'll be able to learn real magic and create more spells for your order. That, and hopefully learn more about the alchemists that reside here.

You grind your teeth just thinking about them. Alchemy has earned high regards in the world of magical research as of late due to the metal refining and greedy nobles. But it's demanding and requires a lot of blood. Not just normal blood, but blood with mana. There are many black market back alley alchemists who've take to kidnapping anyone with magic in their blood. You're late twin brother perished at the hands of a noble's alchemist and you'd have been next if it wasn't for his newly hired mage. Hendrick was a mage of the Order of Delight hired to entertain but his real job was a search and rescue. Unfortunately, you were the only one left to rescue out of the dozens of orphans that were kidnapped, drained and killed.

If Hendrick hadn't saved you when he did, you'd have followed your brother into an early grave. You recall how he took you in, practically adopted you and taught you everything he knew and then some. He was loud and boisterous with a stage presence that put many seasoned performers to shame. Nobody would ever guess that he was actually a mercenary.

It's funny to think that the least suspecting mage order has the most mercenaries and assassins than any other. Or maybe it makes perfect sense, no one would suspect the killing blow to come from the pretty man playing the flute.

The Order of Delight's underground sect known as The Dirge. It's small with only thirty members and you've been tasked with infiltrating the High Tower. You've spent the last five years crafting new spells that would allow me to qualify to study here, I created a persona that would be unassuming yet stereotypical. No one will know why you're here, least of all those fucking alchemists.

Feeling a bit more resolved you set your nerves aside. This mission is incredibly important in bringing down the alchemy rings and kidnappings once and for all and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't nerve wracked.

Biting your cheek you continue on to the West Tower and up the long winding staircase. The air is heavy with magic and a strange scent of salt water and incense. A guard stops you once you reach the halfway point and asks for your name and order badge. He doesn't give you any grief about what order you're from, in fact he seems to not really care about anything at all.

You decide to start making note of the guards first then since they seem pretty relaxed.

He points to a door to his left where all first years are sorted one by one in an interview given by the head of the West Tower. You've heard very little about this mage save for the fact that they tend to favor those from their own base order. A Daybreaker mage, probably the most logical and pragmatic of anyone here.

You enter the waiting room and see several young mages sitting around a fire rune. You instantly recognize one of them, a childhood friend of yours before you and your brother were kidnapped.

"By the light of the moon!" He stands up and holds out his arms as he rushes to you.

"Luan, it's good to see you," you hug him as he picks you up off the ground.

He swings you back and forth before setting you down, "I know you said in your last letter that you were coming to the capital soon but I never imagined that you meant you'd be coming here."

"And what about you? When were you going to tell me that you got accepted to High Tower?" you playfully shove him.

"It was meant to be a surprise for when you got here," He grins.

You laugh and shake your head, "I can't believe we'll both be studying here."

Luan nods and his sweet smile slowly fades, "Yes, well and then there's that."

You raise a brow and before you can ask him what he's talking about an elderly mage calls for him for his interview.

"That'd be me, we'll talk about it later," Luan smiles and waves you goodbye.

Though it was brief, seeing Luan has eased your nerves a great deal. You two became mages around the same time. You were both rescued by Hendrick however Luan had a knack for shadow and dark magic so he joined the newly reformed Order of Night. The both of you kept in close contact when you were separated and always sent each other gifts for birthdays and holidays.

He'll probably be the only one here who won't laugh at the fact that you're from the Order of Delight.

You roll your eyes and take his place in the circle around the fire rune. The other mages there eye you with a mix of suspicion and curiosity.

"So...," one of them speaks up, a girl with a badge from the Order of Despair. "A bard? How the hell did you get accepted?"

Here we go, you sigh.

"I have a knack for illusion magic and spell song craft like most bards but I got tired of the old spells that didn't have much practical or everyday use so I invented new ones. The elders here heard about what I was doing and had me test in," you explain.

To be honest it's a half truth, the Order of Delight has a hidden book of spells that The Dirge has full access to. All the spells in it are unregistered so no one would be able to track them back to another mage. You were told to use three or four from the book for your qualifying spells but instead of taking credit you took inspiration. You invented thirty new spells but only sent in seven. Thirty would be too suspicious.

"Sounds like you should have tried for the Daybreak order, practicality is their specialty," another mage chimes in.

"I would have but my family wouldn't let me," you shrug. An easy excuse, most mage families like to stick to the same order.

"Ugh I get that," the girl from the Order of Despair groans. "My folks were the same way, I have light magic and know a few healing spells but no, I had to honor tradition learn mind speak and dream bending. Gods I hate traditionalist. My names Ruya by the way."

You introduce yourself and tell her your fabricated backstory, one that's a bit more cheerful and normal.

A couple other mages open up to you, both from the Order of Bones, Tarek and Ilta... Twins. They both wore the standard skull tattoos on their faces though it looked more menacing on Tarek. They both wanted to join the Order of Delight since they're strong in illusion magic but of course their clan refused them. You knew there was an issue with traditionalist but you had no idea that it was that bad.

"Tarek Falswith," the elderly mage calls to one of your new acquaintances.

He stands tall and stretches, his short black hair shining in the light of the fire rune making his skull tattoo all the more wicked. He glances down at you and smiles, "See ya later bard."

His sister laughs as he walks away, "Just ignore him, he's a stupid flirt. Got himself in trouble time and time again back at our Order."

"Noted," you laugh. "Not looking for love here anyways."

"Not the best place to find it honestly," Ruya adds.

"Our older sister is a third year here and oh the stories she could tell you," Ilta begins. You and Ruya listen to the tales of the twins' sister Asra and her encounters with the opposite sex.

And as she spins her tales, one by one the young male mages are called off to interview until there's only the three of you. Ruya gets called while Ilta is recounting the time her sister wore a deer skull for a month even while she slept and ate to freak out a few of her admirers.

"She sounds crazy," you laugh.

"Oh yes, most say she should have gone into the Order of Twilight with how chaotic she is. But alas-"

"Tradition," both of you say then laugh.

"Ilta Falswith," the elderly mage calls.

Ilta mimics her brother, adding in a wink and the both of you giggle.

"See ya later bard," Ilta mocks her brother again but her voice sounds just like his.

You can't help but to be amazed and amused all at once and laugh as she walks away.

And then it's just you, or so you though.

"Good evening Thaneswell," an elderly voice rumbles your last name.

From the center of the fire run circle a figure slowly appears. An elderly man seated on a simple wooden stool. He's wearing a worn greyish blue cloak with a silver badge from the Order of Daybreak. His eyes are a milky white and his boney fingers tap gently on his lap.

Realizing who he is, you quickly stand up and bow your head.

"None of that now, none of that," He waves a hand and the fire rune dissipates. Ever so slowly he stands up, circling his hand in the air until a staff appears and falls into his hand.

"There is no need to bow amongst kin," he smiles.

You thought it was odd that you and one of the highest mages of the Order of Daybreak shared the same last name, it had to be a coincidence right?

"I did my own digging, my late brother was your maternal grandfather. He was a mage of the same order you belong to, and the same sect as well," He straightens as he starts circling you.

Your nerves reignite and you feel your gut sink.

"The family Thaneswell is not traditional and has members across every order there is. You of course wouldn't know this as your mother passed before you and your late brother were of age. This was," He waves his hand to another door that slowly opens on its own.

"Then my acceptance?" you ask.

"By your own skill, I'm not apart of the qualifying department. I put young mages where they need to be. Skilled and bright mages come here all the time to break from tradition and free themselves from bonds of a family or order. You met three such mages today did you not?" He asks as he lights up the room with a flick of his wrist.

The small room is filled with light crystals and fairy bobbles that produce a soft warm glow. Nic knacks of all sorts both mundane and magical line the shelves and a fat horned cat stretches across the large oak desk.

"Have a seat wherever you can find one," he chuckles as he lowers himself into a puffy armchair.

You turn and look for a chair but you only see mounds of books, small side tables and a taxidermy deer. Small side table it is.

Grabbing a table you pull it up close to the side of the desk as the front is occupied by an old dire wolf laying on a large pillow.

"Now then, let's get down to business. First off within close quarters you may call me uncle, I'd prefer it since we're family. You are after all the only closest living relative I have now," He sighs.

"Wait but you said our family has members in every order," you recall.

"Yes and because of that most of us have become estranged. My brother and his kept close but as the years went by, they were picked off one by one. I only learned of your existence after Hendrick rescued you. I'm so sorry about your brother... had I known... Why your mother never said anything..." he pauses and you see the grief on his face.

"She kept us close to the forest border, in one of the dump villages," you tell him.

His wrinkled face crumples and cringes, "By the gods why would she do that?"

"Hendrick said that the likelihood of us getting kidnapped at a dump village would be slim since the sick and dying are rarely ever kidnapped," you shrug.

"I'm so sorry, there must be more to this... I just know it but at least you're as well as well as can be," He sighs. "Now then, you're a member of The Dirge sect. Very few high mages know of it and I'm only privy of your mission as I'm the one who hired a mage to carry it out. It must have been Hendrick who threw your name in for it."

You blink once, twice and your mouth gapes wide open, "You're the one who- Wait a moment, you know why I'm here then and-"

"The alchemist rings are more corrupt than you can imagine. Both registered and unregistered, back alley and black market. If things continue on as is our nation will have the largest human trafficking outbreak in history. The Western Empire is already calling on our king to put an end to it since citizens of the empire have gone missing in the past few years. They've been putting more and more pressure on his majesty by raising taxes on goods and banning travel between our countries," he taps the desk before slamming his hand down.

"And the laws he made banning unregistered alchemy have been nothing more than a joke, I know. The Dirge has brought down at least fifty rings in the last few years but there seems to be no end to them. What in gods name are they after?" you lean forward, hoping your uncle will have some sort of answer.

"The same foolish thing the registered alchemists are after, immortality. Or at the very least, the next best thing. Long and youthful life, like that of a fae," he waves his hand and a book flings off the shelf and flies right to you.

"The War of Iron and Blood, a history book?" you start to pry the book open but it flings itself to a page near the very end.

"The book leaves out the most important part until the end. A fae specializing in Blood magic was caught and arrested. He is immune to iron and is able to heal himself if he wishes. Since those days long long ago, he has been held here, has been studied, has been bled for research with no real end in sight. I can only imagine what little hope he has if any," the high mage looks up towards the door.

A soft knock rasps the old wooden door, "Mage Thaneswell, it's Dargan, you called for me?"

"Yes yes, come in," your uncle flicks his finger and the door opens.

A tall and lanky mage shuffles in and slowly removes his hood. His skull tattoo looks rather odd on his face with how sunken in his eyes are and how gaunt he is.

"As you'll need to be focusing on your upcoming graduation I've decided to pass off your job to this first year. As you know all fourth years are to hand off their jobs to the new students. I've already given her a history lesson, the rest is up to you Dargan. Oh and once you're done, you'll be allowed a three week respite to recover," the high mage looks to you and nods towards the other mage.

Dargan bows a few times to your uncle and thanks him over and over before he grasps your shoulders, "Of course, yes, I'll get them up to speed and have them trained before then end of the day! Leave everything to me Mage Thaneswell."

"Yes and oh, once you're done could you give my niece a tour of the grounds? I'd do it myself but these old bones don't move like they used to," he smiles.

The Bone mage looks at you and then at the high mage, "Niece? Oh uh yes, yes of course."

Your uncle smiles and waves you off, "I'll be calling you back for a visit soon but please come and see me of your own accord when you can."

Dargan shuffles you out of the office and the door closes behind the both of you. His wide eyes look down at you as he continues to rush you out of the waiting room and down the tower stairs.

"What a horrible thing to do," he shakes his head. "To his own flesh and blood."

"Wait what are you talking about?" you ask.

Dargan stops and grabs your wrist, "This way, not here."

He pulls you aside and leads you down a path that takes you to the North Tower. It hikes up the wall and into a breezeway. The Bone mage looks around and when he's sure no one is in sight he has the two of you sit on the stone cold floor.

"Tell me truly, is High Mage Thaneswell really your uncle?" he asks.

"Great uncle but I fear we're missing the point here so-"

"You're from The Dirge then?" Dargan asks.

Your eyes widen and you grit your teeth but nod.

Dargan lifts his sleeve and reveals a scythe, "The Order of Bones has a similar sect."

"Reapers, I've heard of them," you nod.

"Mage Thaneswell has been hiring from all mercenary sects to take care of the alchemist rings. Myself and four others have been slowly cleaning up the High Tower these last few years, it hasn't been easy." Dargan stars and lays his head against the wall. "I suppose I should begin with what will be expected of you."

The Bone mage details your upcoming job and schedule, the grim nature of it all unsettling you the more he speaks. You're to become the jailor to the captured blood fae. You are to feed him, check his vitals, and collect his blood. You are not to speak to him, not to listen to him if he utters a single word, and you are not allowed to let him bleed unless collecting his blood.

Fear coils in your belly as Dargan tells you all the horrid things the fae could do if he was allowed to bleed out. Slice you up with his blood, set his cell on fire, undo the runes cast upon his chains or turn his blood into weapons and massacre the entire Tower. High Mage Thaneswell doesn't want that, he just wants him to take down the alchemists.

"Your uncle believes if we can find a way to free him that he'll be in our debt and will by the laws of the fae carry out the bounty against the alchemists," Dargan sighs. "Quite the pipe dream huh?"

"Very much so, but fae are keener on magic and can track down different users way better than mage hounds. Plus, he'll have a personal vendetta against them so he might be all for it," you agree and lay your head back as well.

"Still kinda fucked up that he's making his niece take on this job though," Dargan puffs. "But he must have his reasons."

"It's probably because I'll work closely with the Tower's alchemist ring. The more eyes on them the better," you note.

"True, but I rarely spoke with them and even if I showed any interest they kept me mostly in the dark. Get the blood, hand over the blood, and leave. That was the preferred sequence of things," he shrugs.

"Well, fuck..." you groan as you sag against the wall.

Dargan laughs and fishes something out of his pocket, "Here, it's a pass to the Tower. You'll need this to get in, get to the third level and to the cell."

You take the pass and grimace as the blood red runes carved into the small black iron tablet. You could feel the magic resonating off of it, feel it draining a tiny bit of your life essence. You quickly wrap it in your cloak.

"Disgusting, isn't it? They say the pass doubles to strengthen the runes on the Blood Fae's cell. I've tried my best not to over handle it but sometime the alchemists will examine the pass and if there's not enough life in it, they'll make you hold it all day. This job is super fucked up," Dargan snarls and slowly stands then offers his hand.

"Thanks for the heads up I guess," you allow him to help you up then stretch. "Anything else that I should be worried about?"

Dargan shrugs, "Not really, well that's a lie. I'd worry about you dorm placement. Mage Thaneswell pulled some strings and had me bunking with other mercs but I'm not sure how many he's hired this time around."

You nod knowing that it costs a lot to keep up this kind mission. You don't know if he's being funded by the King or if this is his own personal project but hiring you alone costs over three thousand gold.

"I'll introduce you to the alchemists and show you where the cell is real quick before I show you the grounds. Since it's hardly midday we have some time before your sorting," he beckons you to follow and leads you back out of the breezeway.

He takes you back down the wall path and towards the Central Tower, a massive and ancient mage tower built over a thousand years ago before the great culling of the Order of Night.

You feel the magic rolling off in droves with every step you take. The different auras confusing your senses and causing your gut to roil. Dargan places a supporting hand on your shoulder and holds up a hand before chanting a spell that shields the both of you from the onslaught of magic.

"Overwhelming isn't it? Someone here will cast a longer lasting shield on you once you start working. Try not to throw up on the stairs if you feel the shield fading, not only will they make you clean it up but they'll have you manually clean to toilets too," Dargan cringes.

"Sounds like you've been through a lot of hell here," you grimace.

"Hell would be nice in comparison. There's no graces here, no mercy nor kindness to be found. The Central Tower is where mages are truly tested, young and old. Are you certain you can handle this?" Dargan takes a step back and looks at you.

There's real concern on his face, something you feel like you haven't seen in ages. His dull dark red eyes search your face for hesitance and close once he realizes that there's none.

"I have my own reasons for being here, personal and sad as they are," you shrug. "But things can't continue on like they have been."

He nods his head and continues up the stairs, "Fair enough, well then, welcome to the Central Tower." Dargan flourishes his hand and bows. Turning on his heals he points to a bulky guard leaning against the wall, "And this good fellow is Max."

Dargan exchanges introductions between the two of you and has you show the pass. Max opens the barred door to the tower where you're ushered up a series of staircases till you reach the third floor. You're introduced to another guard, Gildred, who you show your pass to. Before you're able to say farewell, Dargan leads you into the third floor lab and quickly shuts the door.

You try and catch your breath but the Bone mage drags you along and takes you down a hall that leads you to a circular room. Several mages clad in maroon cloak turn and glare at you.

"Dargan... has it really been four years?" One of them asks.

"Yes high mage Cragsith. This is my replacement, young mage Thaneswell," he introduces you.

"A Thaneswell? And of.... The Order of Delight? How... Amusing," High mage Cragsith chuckles. "Very well, I assume she's been educated?"

"Yes high mage, of course," Dargan bows his head.

"Good, then you may leave. Estan will show her to the cell, you should hurry and take your respite. I know exams will be starting next month," He waves Dargan off with a limp hand.

Dargan bows and exits with haste, leaving you alone with the High Tower's alchemists.

"You've caught us at an excellent time, we're needing a fresh batch of blood. Estan will take you down and show you the ropes," Cragsith beckons to a hunched figure.

"Follow me," Estan orders and shuffles towards the middle of the room. He places his hand on the central supporting pillar and a door appears shortly after. It opens to reveal a lift that will take you down to the Tower's prison.

Estan tells you that all vials are kept in a desk outside the fae's cell and on a normal day that you'll receive a slip with how many you are to fill.

"He's basically docile at this point. Hasn't been an incident in over two hundred years. It's an easy job, just taxing as I'm sure Dargan has mentioned," Estan says in an oddly comforting way.

Once you're down under the tower and exit the lift, Estan leads you to the fae's cell. He pulls out nine vials from a drawer in the desk and checks them for cleanliness, "Don't want anything but his blood in these."

After his inspection he has you place the pass in a slot on the wall next to the cell. You fell just the faintest bit of your life force slip as the locks turn and door opens ever so slightly.

There's a dank smell that wafts in your nose and the sudden charge in the air has every hair standing on edge.

Estan hands you eight of the vials to hold as he escorts you in. You fear that you might find a horrid and fiendish fae as Dargan lead you to believe but instead all you see is a sad one, bound in chains and leathers with living runes.

What was probably once lovely long flowing black hair is now matted and tangled in several areas. His eyes and mouth are covered with greyish leather that have ancient magic imbued in them. His skin is sickly pale and nails are curled from neglect.

The fear and nerves you felt entering this place disappear and are quickly replaced with pity and then something else. A deep need to free him settles into you and it's one that's beyond your mission or any ethical reason. You feel sicked and in pain at seeing him like this.

"It's just a quick prick right here, same spot every time," Estan interrupts your thoughts as he points to a tattoo of a circle on the fae's arm. As he goes to poke it you quickly ask if you can.

"I learn better by doing is all, that and I want to do well with this job," you say with full fake determination.

Estan chuckles and hands his vial and needle over to you, "I get it, I was the same when I was a student here. Not going to lie, but you're the first Cragsith has really acknowledged this fast, well aside from myself. Maybe he sees some promise in you."

Or maybe he's warry of me being a Thaneswell, you think.

Not wanting to drop your facade, you go and draw the fae's blood.

Bile quickly threatens your throat but you do well in holding back the vomit.

This feels so wrong that it's hard to stomach, is this a curse that the fae has in place? Why didn't Dargan tell you? Maybe you'll ask your uncle later... But first, to fill the other eight vials.

It takes all your strength and will power not to throw up while extracting the fae's blood but you somehow manage. After Estan takes you back up to the third floor and sings praises about your enthusiasm do you ask to be shown to the bathroom.

Once your stomach is empty you resolve to find and beat Dargan black and blue for leaving out the part about wanting to blow chunks when extracting blood.

You stomp your way out of the central tower and down the path to the east but quickly stop in your tracks when a notice echoes through the grounds.

"All first years to the North Tower for dorm sorting. I repeat all first years to the North Tower for dorm sorting," the voice rang.

And before you could take another step you found yourself being lifted for a moment, cold dark air rushing around you, and then you were set back down amongst a crowd right outside the North Tower.

A few others look around in confusion but for the most part people just shrug it off as typical tower magic.

"Hey, over here," you here a familiar voice.

You turn and see Ruya with Ilta, Tarek, and Luan. Quite the odd ball group but you're about to make it weirder, being a bard and all.

"I heard you got to go to central tower, how was it?" Tarek asks.

"And who'd you hear that from?" you raise a brow at him and he grins.

"From a senior of my sect, Dargan," he smiles and shows his reaper mark.

Before you can ask, Ruya, Ilta, and even Luan all flash their arms with the subsect marks on them. They all tell you how they each ran into their seniors here and took on jobs close to or in the central tower. The twins have jobs in the library near the central tower, Ruya brings meals up for the alchemists, and Luan is set to clean the equipment for the central tower.

"Dargan said there's a high chance that we'll get bunked with other subsect members as the Dorm Matron works directly with high mage Thaneswell," Tarek smiles and looks at Luan, "No weird shadowy shit."

"Then I hope you'll keep your knives and bones on your side of the dorm," Luan smiles.

Ilta smacks her brother's arm and Ruya rolls her eyes.

You can feel this group's dynamic setting in place already.

"All first years, dorm mothers will be coming around with dorm assignments. These assignments are final and we expect no complaints. Once you have you receive your dorm and room token you will be teleported there. Potions for teleportation sickness are on the stands outside the rooms if needed," another announcement rings.

Your group looks around for dorm mothers, all middle aged or elderly mages wearing light blue cloaks with yellow ribbons. You've heard many stories about the dorm mothers here and how even the highest mages offer their respects to them. They're truly a force to be reckoned with.

"Here you are... Thaneswell's bunch," A dorm mother approaches your group and looks everyone up and down before turning to Tarek and Luan. "The two of you will go to Mother Margo's dorm, you'll be bunking in room eleven. Here are your tokens."

The two of them reach out their hands with slight hesitation but once they touch the tokens, they vanish.

"I have to say, that's gotta be the second fastest I've seen my brother disappear," Ilta smiles.

"What was the fastest then?" Ruya asks.

"When he found out he broke up with the head Reaper's daughter," Ilta laughs.

"You three," the dorm mother glares at us and then at Ilta, "I expect you to be prompt, never out past curfew, and not a meal skipped. I am your dorm mother, Mother Beatrice. You'll each have your own rooms, connecting. Seven, eight, and nine."

You look at the girls but before either can say anything, Ruya reaches out for her token and vanishes. Ilta smiles at you and shrugs before taking hers. Taking a deep breath in you reach for room token nine and feel yourself being flung around.

Left and right, right then right again. You feel as if you're passing through sheets like a child running through laundry on a sunny day. Warm and cold air take turns at slapping your body before you suddenly snap to a stop and your body slams right into a door with a hard thud.

"Ow," you moan as you peel yourself off the door. Your face stings where it met the hard wood.

You look around and see Ruya doubled over holding an empty potion bottle with Ilta rubbing her back.

"Going to be alright over there?" you ask.

Ruya nods but stays down.

"She was slung into her stand and it knocked the wind out of her," Ilta winces.

"This is why I hate teleportation, too volatile and under studied. Now I know why the fae rarely use it themselves," you cringe at the thought of being teleported again anytime soon.

After the three of you check yourselves over for any wounds and sickness you part to your own rooms.

Your room is cozy and well furnished. A few wooden boxes lay on your bed with a few notes. The first note is a greeting from the towers and what to expect in the coming days. The second is from Mother Beatrice with a list of rules and a meal schedule. The third is from the central tower... A letter just for you.

"Good evening young Thaneswell,

We welcome you to the central tower and have high hopes for you. Estan spoke highly of you and your eagerness, a most welcomed delight, as Dargan was most melancholic. Estan will continue to escort you to the cell for the next ten days as he trains you. We look forward to having a mage with your enthusiasm."

You feel your stomach churn as you finish reading the letter. You quickly crumple it up and toss it in the waste bin.

Something about being on their good side this quickly unsettles you but you'll do your best to turn it around and use it to your advantage. You can't let this continue, too many innocent lives are at stake and you're not sure how much longer your great uncle can keep funding missions like this.

With that resolve you go through the boxes next, supplies and a uniform. Papers, books, ink, and pens. A first year's dark brown cloak and knee high boots with metal plates on the toes and knees. There's a map with local shops and a post office where mages who come to study can send letters and receive parcels.

Next you notice a small wooden box with a stamp from the West tower. You open the lid and see a small mirror, a pouch, a dagger, and a note. You quickly unfold the note and it has instructions on how to use the mirror.

"Use the dagger to prick your finger and sign this rune with your blood. I will be alerted that you wish to speak with me. Only use this in your room or in dire emergencies."

You have a gut feeling that he wants you to try it out know so you prick your finger and write out the rune on the mirror. Within seconds it lights up and an image of your uncle shoots up from it.

"I'm glad my gift has found you. Though I wish we could chat longer I have the head Matron of the dorms coming up to see me. I'll keep this short, get the fae to speak. Get him to talk, get him to listen, and get him on our side," your uncle orders.

You nod but feel sick as you do, "Understood, but I must ask, is there a curse on him?"

The high mage's brows knit in confusion, "Why do you ask?"

"I...I took his blood and I felt sick and there was this wrongness. Like I couldn't stand that I was hurting him, it was odd," you mention.

Your uncle's eyes widen but he says nothing for a few moments too long, "No, no curse. Keep me updated on these, odd feelings. I must go now."

The image of your uncle vanishes and instead of getting an answer to your question, you feel like you've gained a long list of inquiries that will be left in the box.

"What have I gotten myself into," you groan as you flick your wrist and move your things off the bed so you can fling yourself onto it.

At least I'm not alone, you think as you curl up and slowly pass out.

[meredoubt]

In my heart, I know Emmrich tsks gently in disapproval every time my Reaper/Slayer Dirge swears. I know this to be true. It's deeply comical. Emmrich is far too concerned with social niceties, I think, and while he let's it go when they're strangers (that's polite, after all, and beyond that, Emmrich seems very kind), by the time they are regularly working together, I think he feels compelled to try to gently correct this asshole. He knows Dirge is a good man, he's just a little rough around the edges! You know.

So this antisocial leader, this brute with a big fuck off sword, pauses in whatever he's doing to turn to the old man beside him. And even with his face obscured behind a fearsome helmet, you can tell he is staring at Emmrich. Just...staring. Baldly. At the audacity. Emmrich isn't cowed even a little, of course.

But when Dirge says something really foul, Emmrich will hit him with a, "Language, my dear!" And THAT definitely awakens something in my standoffish asshole warrior that freaks him out.

[folklauerate]

I’ll say something else while I’m here-one of my biggest issues with Bridgerton s2 was the lack of cohesiveness. Jesus Christ no one is upset with characters making unlikable decisions and if you want a wedding for the sake of drama, Shondaland, have a fucking wedding, but make it earned! And on top of that, the wedding episode had the fucking audacity to be boring as shit! Just all trodding on and operating off of the assumption the viewer would be aghast and would sit through nearly an hour of boring yawn snooze because there were “stakes” and it seemed like the main pair might not get together. Like for fuck’s sake have as much drama as you like but at least make it well written! Instead the wedding episode is a dirge and not because it’s a reflection of some character’s mental state or any seemingly deep reason, no; it’s like they decided there would be a wedding and shrugged when it came to getting the character’s there. It doesn’t count as good writing if you’ve spent the past months/years trying to wrap your head around or write fic around the reasons why x decision by y characters make sense to fill in gaps that shouldn’t be there in the first place and that’s all this fandom has done.

People’s issue with side plots taking up too much time isn’t really that they take up too much time-it’s that none of them follow a set of overarching themes of the season and feed into them or a main storyline in a significant way, giving the illusion to the viewer that they’re completely separate from the romance at the core and therefore taking away from it, as opposed to everything being harmonious.

On top of that, the characterizations are so fucking varied and there’s a large tonal shift between s1 and s2 in terms of the way the Bridgersibs interact with one another. Siblings can fight and be rude and whatever to one another but for them to turn into completely different people out of nowhere is so ??

And on the topic of characterizations-WHERE WAS KATE’S??? Anthony gets 28363938 motivations for why he is the way he is and then is honestly left floundering with all of them, until you’re honestly a bit ?? as to why he can’t marry for love, and then you get Kate who is just… There. Why can’t she marry for love? Why is she hellbent against marrying? Why is she prioritizing her family’s finances and Mary/Edwina above herself? What conversations did she have with her father before he died to make her this way or was she always like this? What were their lives like in India? I could keep going! At least in the book you get some half hearted “I’m too ugly and old to get a match” reason but in the show no one is going to fucking believe Simone Ashley is too ugly or old to get whatever lord she wants 😭✋ and THEN???? To top it all off-Kate and Anthony don’t have a single meaningful discussion around an entire eight episodes!!!!! Not one!!!!!!!!! What fucking growth happens between them fucking and the coma and then their fucking dance to have them propose? If the actors themselves had to invent all these so called secret conversations their characters had in between everything to make things make sense, I really don’t think that’s a hallmark of good writing. They rush that happy ending in there at the end and it feels like they forgot they had to end the fucking show with these two characters together and they just said “fuck it let them kiss” and that’s what we got. WHAT CONVERSATION OF SUBSTANCE DID THEY HAVE. And what fucking argument can you make that it’s okay that it didn’t happen on screen??) NONE!!! It’s TV! It’s a VISUAL FORMAT??? Oh my god.

I told myself I wouldn’t rant about this, just redirect people to walle’s thoughts on this, which is (in her own words) how she sat shiva for the fucking wreck of what Bridgerton s2 is. Walle if you don’t know wrote a thousand cuts and s2 was the nail in the coffin for her. It was so so so bad. It went against such basic principles of storytelling. The writing was so abhorrent. It was insane. And to defend it feels more insane it feels like you’ve been taken hostage by this damn show and you’re writing thinkpieces on tumblr and twitter to make it make sense!

What grates me is that it really could’ve been good. The juice was there. The actors are amazing. The production team is clearly so so dedicated and hard working. IT WAS ALL THERE. Honestly the way the show was marketed in the trailer feels completely different from how it came out and I have to think there was some fuckshit going on behind the scenes given the large tonal shift during/after ep 4 and CVD’s hasty and odd departure.

[explainslowly]

Get your transfem Dean season 10 au here!! Get yourself a girl who has so many problems!!

This started by me kicking around a little idea in a chat with @autisticandroids - what if Demon Dean just started taking estrogen? Like where would that lead...

The other idea behind these fics was to write short episode reactions, see how much stuff I could fit into something only a few hundreds words long... and to make pushing through season 10 less of a slog...

The series can be found here (I definitely want to continue through season 11 and perhaps longer, I've just been busy with other stuff):

Links to each story with excerpts under the cut:

Even animals suffer - demon Dean in her own words

The number one unpleasant discovery I have made in my time here, is how much of a bleeding sentimental heart Crowley has. It’s pathetic.

Now the guys that stare in bars, those are a different story.

They lead and I follow, behind the building or into their trucks and I bend over easy, let them take me rough, smelling the sweet smell of rotting garbage in damp hot weather. They like to lean on me hard and grab a boob harder, an endless parade of older guys whose failing livers you can smell on their breaths. The pain is sweet.

I don’t need no rising moon - Dean puts himself back together

He examines his naked chest - he wonders what happens next? It’s not like he did much research as a demon - he was just eyeballing the amounts. Maybe the fat will just… reabsorb itself or something. He grabs the small mounds of protruding flesh - the sight of his large hands engulfing them completely gives him a sense of vertigo, or like he’s looking down from a great height, so he closes his eyes and just concentrates on the sensation. They lack the heft of a larger cup, the satisfying weight, but it feels so soothing to hold them nevertheless.

About a girl - Dean has a little thought experiment

It’s kind of funny - Dean forgot how he used to look. That he shot up tall before he got broad, was lanky in a funny way, like an unfinished human. And doe-eyed and soft featured… it makes his mind go in all the wrong directions. Makes him think about possibilities, before testosterone takes hold - a body that hasn’t become yet and is sort of shapeless in a way that makes his head spin.

It’s just idle daydreams.

Lana del Rey croons on the radio and Dean indulges, really gives himself permission to think about it.

What do teen girls even look like these days? He’s out of the loop on it all… Probably something like... thick eyeliner? Lot of makeup… awkwardly applied, but that’s ok. It wouldn’t look out of place on a fifteen year old. That kind of clumsiness is all within reason at that age. You get space to find yourself, that's kind of what being a teen is about, he thinks.

Dirge - a little Drowley interlude

Crowley lays his palms on Dean’s ribcage, framing his chest.

“Hello ladies.”

The embarrassment burns Deam up - he feels his face flame red. “Fucking hell, Crowley…”

“Just getting reacquainted,” Crowley sounds amused, but he doesn’t keep his distance long, dives in, licking Dean’s breast, the beard scratching at sensitive skin, sending electricity down his spine. Crowley is thumping at the nipple not in his mouth and his other hand is unbuttoning Dean’s jeans.

[blackkatmagic]

just a heads up, but i'm pretty sure this fic: ao3 work 54295270, is your 'Dirges in the Dark' with the names replaced

Oh, what a fucking coward, they even turned off comments so no one can call them out on it. Thank you for letting me know!

[hello-galad]

For your favourite FFVII character

1. Canon you outright reject

2. A canon or headcanon hill you will die on

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

HIIII! Thank you so much for the ask!

Ohi have so many favorites but my obvious top 1 is Vincent Valentine so here we go:

Canon you outright reject.

I have picked Dirge of Cerberus apart so many times because there's so many things I disagree with, specifically I think Vincent's crush on Lucretia derived from a promise he made to his dad about protecting her before Grimoire died. Lucretia never reciprocated but had a certain obsession with Vincent because he reminded him so much of Grimoire and in her head, she was responsible for Grimoire's death.

On that note, let Lucretia be unhinged. I refuse to accept she was this submissive, shy woman. She was one of the lead scientists of the Genova project! Let her be brilliant and have a fucked up sense of morality! Let her revive Vincent out of guilt but also because she wanted to see if the research Grimoire and her spend so much time on worked, and it did! Let her experiment on Vincent for the sake of science and her need to prove Grimoire's death was not in vain. Let Vincent's fucked up mind create a strange and not quite right version of her in his head that he faces and has to admit was wrong when he decides to let go. Let Lucretia be a human with objectives and goals that made her do things by herself beyond what the men in her life told her to! AHHHHHH!

Also I hc Vincent never slept with Lucretia, but there's a chance Sephiroth, Weiss and even Nero are his biological kids because Hojo (non-consensually) took his genetic material and threw it around like confetti because Vincent was the first experiment to be successful in 1) processing Jenova cells correctly and 2) Not dying. Although he could never figure out exactly what Lucretia did to achieve that (*cough* Chaos and company *cough*).

2. A canon or headcanon hill you will die on.

Chaos doesn't return to the planet after the events of DoC, but this time they have a better relationship with their host. Same goes with the others. Maybe Vincent is immortal and stays 27 forever and maybe he can or not decide when to die...

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

I think there's a lot of fucked up shit Hojo did to Vincent that his brain blocked out to preserve his psyche. I think Hojo treated him as an object, a test subject, that was his property before he was Shinra's, specially after Lucretia's "death".

For a while he blocked a lot of the things that Lucretia did to him as a test subject, too.

Do I think he remembers those things at some point with AVALANCHE? Yes, and its terrible for him so he sorts of puts it in the "not opening this now or ever" box in the back of his brain for a while but he eventually has to face it when recovering.

I think Cid helps him a lot with that. Sometimes Vincent can't even say out loud what happened to him in that basement but Cid makes sure to reassure him nothing Hojo did to him will make Cid leave or categorize Vincent as less than a human being deserving of happiness and respect.

I think that while Vincent has an almost Eidetic memory, there's a lot of things from his past when he was just Grimoire's son and then when he was Vincent of the Turks that he forgot about because of what he went through. But then one day AVALANCHE finds an antiques shop and Vincent sees a console phonograph and he remembers his mother (I hc she was a geologist) playing her favorite song and picking Vincent up to dance around the living room.

One day Cid gifts Vincent a polaroid camera and Vincent remembers when he would use Shinra equipment to take silly pictures of the other Turks instead of using them for surveillance.

Another day, when visiting the 7th Heaven for a reunion party, he walks to the old piano no-one knows how to play but Tifa used to dream about learning to play and just...starts playing. He plays the equivalent of Beethoven's Moonlight sonata's 3rd movement out of nowhere, claw and all, because he had forgotten besides learning how to shoot, his father was adamant Vincent had to learn to play an instrument perfectly to help his memory and coordination.

How about that time Vincent suddenly remembers his family was kinda nobility and super loaded and he's like "uh I think we used to have a mansion in Junon maybe we can find weapons and amunition in there?". And that is how Vincent finds Cerberus.