#and becoming miserable and cruel and just... so far from the man he was at the start of k4- and when he loses his memories again hes just..

[melliemell]

Pairing: Dazai x reader

Contents: NSFW, public masturbation, Christmas choco crawl gone wrong due to horny boyfriend who has no sense of shame, ahh dazai, the man that you are, Approx. 1k. words

Dazai’s gaze lingered on you, the playful tilt of his lips obscured by his warm cup of cocoa. 

You studied him in return, the festive atmosphere of the Christmas market barely of importance. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when you felt the change of mood between you, but the cheerfulness and easy smiles of your date had turned into heated stares and prolonged caresses; a sly hand around your waist, a lingering kiss by your ear now and then. As much physical contact Dazai could sneak around you without crossing the line of innocent teasing.

But you knew better. 

He was becoming predictable, thinking less with his brain in favour of other parts. And he knew that you knew that.

You sipped from your cup, ignoring the hand innocently rested at your hip. “We still have two more stalls to go.” 

“Come now, a deal’s a deal. Were you expecting me to cave under pressure?” Dazai fluttered his lashes, coming dangerously close to spilling his drink as he pulled you closer to him. 

“More like “collapse from chocolate poisoning”, or something,” you said, pulling quickly down the beanie over his eyes before stifling a laugh as Dazai batted your hand away, the hideous garment back in its place over his curls.

Neon green. It was neon. Green.

Oh God.

It was you who suggested doing a choco crawl around the market, the idea too cute to pass on. Only, the weather had its own plans. Forced to deck out in whatever you could find in the closet, you were a sight to behold indeed; Dazai and his barely existent winter clothes combined with an obvious lack of colour coordination, and you trying to salvage the situation and failing miserably at it. Oh well.

Embarrassed? Yes. But drinking hot chocolate with Christmas lights all around you? Worth it.

“I’ll make sure to swoon very prettily for you, don’t worry,” Dazai said.

“Really? You strike me more as a fold-like-a-chair type of person.”

Dazai gasped, eyes offended. “Cruel. A cruel thing to say, and to your lover of all. The light of your life. Unforgivable.”

“Specialty treatment just for you.” You patted him on the cheek.

Dazai pouted. But it didn’t seem to stop him from pressing you against one of the secluded barracks an hour later, his kiss hungry and tasting sweet against your lips. Dazai never had much patience for anything, grabbing at opportunities as they appeared with not the slightest guilt. 

You were no exception; letting him drape himself all over you all evening, stealing chaste kisses wherever he could–only to sneakily build up to this. His hands were cold against your cheeks, but the leg he nestled between your thighs sent enough heat through your body to compensate.

“Couldn’t you wait till we got home?” you breathed against him, pulling at his scarf until it fell loose around his shoulders. He shuddered as your lips found warm skin, teasing a trail of open-mouthed kisses up his neck and jaw. 

“Pshh, we can do seconds there if you’re offering?” He smiled cheekily, eyes hooded in an all too familiar expression. 

You levelled him with a stare. “Dazai.”

“Mmyes?”

“We. Are not. Having sex in the middle of a fucking market.”

“What? Who said that?” Dazai stretched up, looking around you both. “I definitely didn’t say that. Weird.”

You were off to the side, far away to have some privacy, yes. But not sex. You could practically see pedestrians walking about in the distance. Dazai loved being a tease, and the acquired years of practice in dealing with him prepared you for almost anything that spilled from his mouth.

Almost.

Dazai was being dramatic, is all. So long as you pampered him in enough attention he’d be back to a more tolerable state sooner or later. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t pull at his strings from time to time either…

“Insufferable,” you said, pulling all your annoyance in that one word. And just when the corner of Dazai’s lip pulled, a grin at the ready, your hand grabbed at his trousers, freezing his expression in place as you cupped his half-hard cock in your palm. 

“Oh-ohh,” he said, blinking. “That took a turn.”

You moved closer, shielding the view of his torse with your body. You squeezed experimentally, giving yourself a bit of time before you made your decision. Dazai’s hips bucked against you almost involuntarily.

You unzipped his trousers, no hesitation in your movement. Dazai’s forehead fell on your shoulder the moment you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You barely gave him time to gather himself as you moved, stroking him fast as he filled quickly in your palm. 

“Don’t move,” you whispered, holding him around the torso. No good in him swooning on you now, pretty or not.

If he answered, you didn’t hear; his lips were already on yours. 

He was all want now, maybe the shock of you actually doing this sending even more pleasure down his cock. There was certainly an argument for it there; you could practically feel him throbbing against your touch.

You smiled, biting at Dazai’s lower lip before pulling back completely. You didn’t give him time to react, zipping him back up snugly in his all-too-tight clothes now. “Well, chop chop.”

And you walked off, leaving a panting Dazai behind you, mouth hanging open as his hand flew to his crotch. 

“What. What–” he scrambled after you, cheeks dusted so prettily by his flush.

“The quicker we get home, the better. Right?” you said, looking straight ahead as you fought to keep a neutral face. “Unless you don’t want my help with that anymore.”

Dazai let out a groan, burying his face in his hands. It was unlikely he’d survive that long, not unless you found a car. But watching him be in torment was part of the fun. 

“And I am the insufferable one,” Dazai murmured under his breath, grabbing you by the hand before he practically hauled you towards the sidewalk, eyes boring into the streets like a hawk before he lunged at the first taxi he found.

Okay, maybe you felt a bit bad. A teeny tiny bit. 

You’d make sure to make up for it real good though.

[sideysvault]

𐙚⋆° Convincing Deadpool that you like his face just as it is𐙚⋆°

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Friends to lovers. 0.5k wc

Warnings: Foul language

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— His morals had been down ever since he got rejected from the avengers. And as much as you tried to support his attempts at having a “normal” life, you couldn’t help but notice he was trying to hide and make himself smaller. You couldn’t stand it. You missed the man he used to be. The man you couldn’t help but have a massive crush on.

— Deadpool and you met fairly recently, but you clicked immediately. There was something about Wade’s personality that went really well with yours. You always knew you’d be in trouble if you two got close. You couldn’t help but be overly attracted by his unexpected acts of kindness, his loyalty, his humor and, of course, how his red suit tightly hugged his body.

— Even if you knew that he was going through a rough patch, you never expected it to go this far. You tried so hard to contain the snort that came out of you when you saw his “hair system”. And you failed miserably.

“You are a cruel, motherfucker. I hate you”.

“Wade, baby. A wig?”

“It’s not a wig! It’s a hair system”.

“Ok, sure. But you don’t need it. You know that, right?”

“I’m in sales for fuck's sake. I’ll starve to death if I don’t wear this shit”.

“Fuck. Them. Plus, A summer balayage it’s so not your style anyway

— Having dinner at his place had become a normal occurrence. Al would even sometimes join the two of you. And you couldn’t help but notice that he is always overly careful. Wade only lifts his mask enough for him to be able to eat. At the end of a particularly fun night (And, after having a couple of beers) You encourage him to take it out. All the way. You really don’t mind.

“No, Cupcake. I don’t want you to choke on your food and die by shock. Imagine a third degree burn victim that somehow also got parotitis on their face. That 's me”.

Your heart skipped a bit. Something turned in your stomach. The sudden feeling that he wasn’t really joking over you came all over your body. You were almost sure that your heart just broke a little bit. But you try not to push him too much.

You get up and come closer to him. You took all the courage you could muster and gave him a little kiss on the right side of his chin. One of the few spots of his damaged skin that you’d seen.

“I don't know. Seems pretty okay to me”.

He lifted his gaze at you. Even with the mask on, you could tell he felt some sense of evasive curiosity. And just as you were starting to worry that you had gone too far… A cocky smile appeared on his face as he said “You can be sweet. Big time. Who would’ve guessed”.

You mirrored his smile. And, God. You looked gorgeous. Wade always thought he never stood a chance. He wasn’t easy to be around, let alone love. But after all, the woman might just feel the same way he does.

That day, a beam of hope lingered over the two of you.

────────

Notes: Based on this request!. I might rewrite this very soon, life has been a bit more hectic than usual -Sidey x

[pretzelwrites]

summary: how sylus deals with being the other man. 

warnings: adultery, brief nsfw tidbits, sylus is kinda miserable in this, reader is a little cruel but not intentionally, sorry this one came out really angsty??? 

wc: 1.2k

author’s note: for some reason this scenario came into my mind sooo clearly for him and raf so here's a drabble on it. raf's is coming up next. 

・❥・ your life could only be described as painfully average.  you marry the man you met in university, who also happened to be your first serious boyfriend. he’s a straightforward, simple guy who just wants a simple life with all the dressings: the picket white fence, suburban home, homemade dinners each night… you try to convince yourself you want the same, but as the years carry on, it’s hard to ignore how unnatural that role is for you. the only time you remember not feeling like you were meddling through life was when you joined the hunter’s association. you had found your calling, one that was far more exciting than the life you lived up to that point. unfortunately for you, the monotony returned when you were assigned to be a temporary officer for a small district in linkon city. that temporary position goes on for much longer than anticipated, much to your displeasure, but what else could you do? 

・❥・after spinning your wheels dealing with weak wanderers and petty crime for months, you’re finally granted a case worth your time: investigating onychinus in the N109 zone.

・❥・the investigation helps facilitate a borderline obsession over finding sylus and bringing him to justice. at first, you convince yourself that this would be your big break, something to prove that all these years spent training would amount to something. perhaps it could even open more doors for you in the association…  

・❥・ but things morph into something unrecognizable. you become drawn to his self-indulgent and exciting lifestyle which was a far cry from your current mundane life. 

・❥・ sylus toys with you about this, knowing that you’re constantly teetering on the edge of giving in to your most carnal desires, repressing yourself to be a “good little wife.” this taunting nickname rolls off his tongue all too often. sometimes you even hear it on your walks home, but it sounds mechanical and hauntingly inhuman… you think you might be losing it.

・❥・he’s very calculated with his approach, encouraging you to engage in increasingly questionable means to capture him. with the erosion of your strict morality, it’s not hard for you to drift farther from the idea of yourself as the pristine wife. 

・❥・your dynamic completely transforms during an interrogation where you suddenly cave, kissing him with the hunger you’d been suppressing all those months. his lips pull into a smug smile before pulling you onto his lap to hold your fidgeting body steady. 

・❥・he lets you set the pace when you become physical, acting as a guiding force to discover what you truly want, and then helps expand your boundaries and experiences. 

・❥・ “can we try this position?” “if you’re flexible enough, sweetie.” 

・❥・ says “if you want it, then take it.” so often you start thinking it’s his catchphrase. 

・❥・ he seems to just… know what you’re craving without you even saying it. the unspoken connection between you is unbelievable, and something you’ve never experienced before. 

・❥・sylus enjoys pushing the envelope when it comes to your husband, always being on the verge of being caught. in other words, he would literally fuck you on that man’s bed. he does NOT care. 

・❥・leaves so many whispers of himself all over your body. teeth marks, light scratches, hickeys, whatever he can plant on you before you swat him away. 

・❥・ the hookups go on for months, and they become more and more addictive each time. eventually you’re coming up with elaborate excuses to explain the weeks you’re spending in the N109 zone. 

・❥・ his home acts as a little getaway from your regular life, and when you come over he doesn’t hesitate to provide you whatever you want. at first it was because he enjoyed luring you in for corruption, but it progressed to him enjoying how your eyes lit up when you held his gifts. no matter how small or pointless they were, you always reacted like he had just given you a reason to live.  

・❥・he wants to find more ways to catch that sparkle in your eye. soon, you two are spending days outside of his home— trying out expensive restaurants and short vacations in new places. 

・❥・ the more time you spend together, the more you fall for who sylus is underneath his reputation. meanwhile, sylus is drawn to how you look at him— a divine blend of strength and innocence that keeps him hooked. 

・❥・ you think it’s simply wishful thinking on your part until you catch sylus staring at you after sex. you’re resting against his chest, eyes almost closed, and just a breath away from sleep. his crimson gaze never leaves your face as you rest peacefully, and even in your partial slumber, you can sense the conflict in his mind. 

・❥・ he intertwines your fingers together and brings your locked hands to his lips. “what have you done to me…” he whispers against your skin, his tone drenched in defeat. somehow, you won a battle you hadn’t even known you’d been fighting. 

・❥・ the investigation you were supposed to be spearheading is technically still ongoing, and he begins to believe that all of this was a long ploy to undermine his work after mephisto finds you talking to one of his former underlings. when he confronts you on this, you’re forced to confess your feelings. you watch as his icy, rigid expression morphs into tenderness while your true feelings stammer out of your lips.  

・❥・ sylus would want you to cut off your husband the second he realizes the feelings are mutual. he approaches the idea straightforwardly, but with enough playfulness it could be mistaken for a joke. “why don’t you make my place your own, then? you’ve already claimed every surface in my bathroom with your hoard of skincare products, why not add your unique touch to the rest of my home as well?”  

・❥・ he wouldn’t show it, but it absolutely does crush him when you refuse. he shrugs it off for the time being, hoping that you will come around to the idea. after all, you’ve been with your husband for years. it’s only natural that you’re not quick to leave him, even if sylus thinks it’s ridiculous. 

・❥・ this affair would go on for a shockingly long time. sylus is so isolated in his line of work, and his feelings for you are so strong, there aren’t many ways he can organically meet others and even if he does… none of them can compare to you. they don’t understand him like you do, they only see his power and money. everytime he is certain that this is the last of it— the last hookup, the last argument, the last text… you go and do something that gives him hope. 

・❥・ the growing tension between you leads to your first breakup… only to end right back up in each other’s arms not even a month later. rinse and repeat. 

・❥・ mephisto and the twins haaaaaate your ass so. damn. much. sylus’s fuse is much shorter when you’re off, and he’s sugary sweet when you’re on. the rollercoaster of emotions impacts everyone in his orbit.

・❥・ even his enemies don’t know if they’re going to get an explosively cruel sylus or a more methodical killer on any given day, which complicates their plans. a select few organizations even keep a pulse on your social media accounts to see when you’re celebrating milestones with your husband, knowing that’s when sylus will be the most unhinged.

・❥・ the N109 zone is damn near silent on the day of your wedding anniversary. mephisto has disappeared somewhere in the night, the twins make themselves extremely scarce to avoid sylus, and everyone else has decided to hunker down until a less volatile day rolls around.

・❥・ the emptiness of his environment is almost suffocating. no amount of music can fill the space enough to distract him from his isolation. sylus can’t stand feeling abandoned, but giving up on you means accepting being permanently alone. for that reason, the idea of closing the chapter on you seems worse than going through this emotional torment for another round. 

・❥・ eventually, if nothing changes, sylus will be the one to finally end it. it will be like hell to him, but cutting off all contact from you is the only way he can be himself again. he doesn’t believe he’ll ever move on, but he hopes he can someday forget how good loving you felt. 

[bea-ce]

A pinky promise.

pairing: childe x reader

genre: hurt/angst, no comfort.

word count: 0.9k

warnings: major character death, mentions of blood, usage of tartaglia's real name.

notes: me when i'm in love with the character with the most death flags and have to make it everyone else's problem too by making them as miserable as me :heart:

It wasn't often that Ajax came home to you as clean and proper as you had received him this time: His hair brushed and neatly put in place, along with his face cleaned and shaved.

It almost came as a relief of how proper and intact he had returned to you. Nothing like the other instances where he’d come back home to you, battered, bruised, and with cuts and wounds lingering across his bloodied body. Blood in which you oftentimes couldn’t discern whose it was- his own, or that of those unfortunate enough to cross paths with him and meet their fate at his hands.

Ajax had always been beautiful to you- You truly loved him: Scars, flaws and all. It would be ignorant to state anything other than the objective fact that Ajax was attractive. A pretty boy, and a handsome young man. 

You had always found Ajax beautiful, always longing to have his charming smile beaming at you from the docks as he’d run towards you and shield you from the harsh winter winds of the cold land with his warm, secure arms.

But Ajax doesn’t bring you into his arms to greet you this time.

He doesn’t flash you his beaming smile.

And he certainly doesn’t shield you from the biting cold.

Ajax was sometimes accompanied by men in uniforms; Men from the Fatui, oftentimes subordinates of his. Their presence had become normalized in your life, given your precious place in the harbinger’s heart. Even though their looming company had become recurring, it hadn’t made it any less uncomfortable for you, despite the years that passed with having them around.

And even though you had grown accustomed to the unsettling sensation of being watched from afar by those men, it was an entirely different experience to have them wander in front of you.

You had always assumed that having them closer would alleviate your unease, but now you realize, far too late, that this could never be the case.

The violet rose petals clutched tightly in your hand decorate the pristine white snow beneath your feet, leaving a trail as you follow the four men with heavy steps. For some reason it reminds you of the many bouquets of flowers that Ajax would often bring home for you, always an odd number of flowers in them. You had always found it ridiculous yet still endearing that someone as feared and fierce as Ajax would believe in such superstitions. You'd often tease him about his superstitions, playfully arguing that the number of flowers could hardly dictate anyone's fate.

Are you wishing death upon me, my dear? Don’t you know that an even number of flowers represent the end of a life cycle? Does my beloved perhaps wish for my demise? How cruel! He would say, pouting adorably.

You'd laugh at his endearing pout, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek with a small apology for your mishap. 

But as you stand here now, clutching an even number of blooms, you can't help but wonder of a reality where you didn’t dismiss his superstitions.

Ajax had always been beautiful to you, so much so that he would often catch you staring at him for just a moment too long. He would laugh softly, calling you out for it, even though he knew he was being hypocritical, as he was just as smitten with you, if not more.

And as always, you stare down at him like you've always done, for your love for him has never faltered, even now. The adoration you felt in those stolen glances is the same as the love you hold in this moment, unwavering and deep, despite the cruel reality before you.

His face is serene, almost as if he were merely sleeping. His hair, meticulously brushed, frames his face perfectly, and his clean-shaven skin glows softly in the muted light. It's a cruel illusion, this semblance of peace, masking the violence that took him from you.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the even-numbered flowers in your hand. Slowly, you bend down and place the bouquet on his chest, your fingers lingering on the petals for a moment longer. 

The wind picks up, swirling around you, as if to echo your sorrow. You step back, the tears you’ve been holding back finally spilling over. The men in uniforms stand silently, giving you space, yet their presence is a stark reminder of the life Ajax led and the dangers he faced.

You take one final look at his peaceful face, etching it into your memory, before gently brushing his hair aside and pressing a final kiss to his now cold skin, your lips ghosting over his freckled cheeks and staining his skin with your tears.

Turning away, you feel the weight of sorrow settle in your heart, accompanied by an unsettling calmness. He had come back to you this time, finally clean and proper as he had often 'pinky promised' but never fulfilled. Yet now, in this bitter reality, you would have taken him back in any state but this. 

What a tragic and unnecessary loss, you think bitterly, as you turn your back on the cold, still figure before you, walking away with leaden footsteps. Each step echoes with the emptiness of a future stolen too soon, shattered into pieces, leaving you to return home with the shards with no one to put it back together with- leaving you all alone, again.

[revserrayyu]

3.1 Amphoreus thoughts [part 2]

***Spoilers ahead*** for everything up until the rematch with the Flame Reaver, so turn away now if you don’t wanna get upset. At the time of writing this I’ve completed the full story quest so be wary if I mention any details that may happen later.

Starting off nice and calm with the ladies heading to the hot baths for some fun and sweet lord how did Aglaea become even prettier?? I’m in awe.

This whole splitting of the souls chatter reminds me of Harry Potter horcruxes. Becoming a demigod doesn’t seem like the most fantastical job in the world if it comes with such a big drawback, such as this or having your emotions slowly fade (as seen with Aglaea). I can only wonder what Mydei will have to deal with now.

The teasing just never ends between these two and it’s giving me life. Every interaction they have is such a joy to listen to.

Dang, no wonder our boy couldn’t overcome the trail. He was faced with the most tragic day of his life and all the trauma that came with it.

Okay thank heavens someone said it! Every time Mydei would mention how fear/fleeing/romance or any other word that shows weakness isn’t in the Kremnoan language I wanted to ask him like, okay, so what words are there then??

Mydei speaks so fondly of his fallen comrades. Being immortal really is cruel, and it hurts even more that we walk past all of his buddies again in a memory where they’re so excited to see him return.

At some point, Mydei’s teacher infiltrates the vortex by sorta kinda kidnapping Trinnon to do so and after going through this long spiel about the future of Mydei and the Kremnoans that I truthfully wasn’t paying that close attention to, Aglaea decides enough is enough and doesn’t hesitate to most likely execute him.. until Trinnon speaks up. I can’t lie, I genuinely find it a bit comical how quick this woman is to just end anyone who dares break any rules in this city.

So.. this image. First things first, I love that he uses such language at his father. Secondly, can I trade places with him? I’d love to open my eyes and see this marvelous man looking down on me. Step on me, king~

Poor guy has every one of his people wishing to return home to Kremnos someday with him as their king and yet he’s terrified on letting the miserable traditions continue if he decides to take the crown. It really is a difficult decision. Do you keep everyone safe and unhappy, or allow them to thrive in a world of danger?

Oohhh buddy, why must everyone on this planet be gorgeous?? Her mom is looking like a long lost cousin of Argenti and Himeko.

Not gonna lie but this whole scene with the dolls felt so Sparkle coded that it scared me. I honestly jumped the first time everything glitched out.

Well that’s a bright, red death flag if I ever saw one. Some trailers already gave me bad feelings regarding Tribbie, but this worsens it.

Pfftt, Aglaea has no chill and I’m here for it. Protect your people, queen!

I mean, sure, choosing how you pass on individually on your own terms may be better than losing every part of yourself all at once, but Aglaea has a point too, that seeing the many Tribios clones perish over and over again is a lot harder than having it happen just once and being done with. It’s not an easy situation to be in for either side.

It really is incredible how powerful these century gates are and it kinda reminds me of Finral’s spacial magic (Black Clover) the way it’s able to teleport others and redirect incoming attacks or enemies.

If I wasn’t already panicking then I sure am now! Look how upset and scared these cuties are! They know Trianne’s pushing herself too far for their sake and there’s truly nothing that they could do to stop what happens next, especially after seeing how much weaker she’s been getting recently.

Aaahhh, I knew it.. seeing this scene from the Song of Divine Silence trailer gave me such bad vibes from the moment I saw it! And after learning the whole meaning behind “see you tomorrow” just makes everything hurt twice as much!! Trianne was definitely my favorite out of the trio too.. this is such a bummer!

We interrupt the sudden heartbreak to bring you an adorably surprised Trailblazer.

I do love that Mydei trusts Phainon with his one and only weakness. I dunno how thrilled I’d be if such a literal backstabbing does take place in a future patch though.

Anaxa, the renowned scholar, using his gun as a shield against the Flame Reaver.. he’s doing his best. Forgive me but I do not remember much of this cutscene to know if he ever used the weapon the proper way. I was in a mix of tears and hype at this point.

Bro look at how relieved Phainon is when he noticed that Mydei has arrived to help them with the fight! That’s such a wonderful smile.

Sir, your confidence! It’s extraordinary! And I’m also very pleased with your sudden assistance!

Just two bros, ready to go knock some sense into a common enemy. What could possibly be better than that?

Okay, so I dunno about everyone else, but how did we feel about this fight? I personally had no trouble at all, even when we first fought him at the grove. The way they showcased him during the 3.1 livestream, I figured he was gonna be serious trouble, but I think the Nikador boss offered a tougher challenge. I didn’t even get the chance to see this dude’s big, fancy attack animation.

Look at him, protecting his man. What a good lad. We still dunno anything about what Phainon’s path or element would be, but for some reason he gives Preservation vibes? like I know he wields a giant sword and is quite capable of using for offense, but seeing him defend Mydei like this makes me think he can use it as a sort of counter I guess? Maybe give me a taunt too? Who knows. We definitely need more Preservation units though.

All hail the new king successfully securing another win for all.

I feel like a whole lot just happened in such a short amount of time. Next post should cover the rest of this patch.

[flycoffee]

Recently it got me thinking what if this guy becomes a running gag? you know this guy⬇️

The guy that saw thorn princess and live to “not tell” the tale out of fear then try to kill her at his new legit job as a waiter but failed miserably because of Anya's intervene and Yor’s inhuman toxicity immunity.

It got me thinking what if he becomes the only person that figure out the forger family’s hidden identity by sheer coincidence and luck.

He knows what Anya looks like at least the base feature is obvious to him he knows Anya have pink hair and probably a five years old child, there’s not much dangerous five years old child out there.

What if he somehow got involved with Edgar the antagonist in the first episode and didn’t get killed by Twilight at the end of the episode, He also knows what Anya looks like and didn’t do anything to threaten Twilight because he wants his daughter to live a peaceful life. The reason this dude got involved with Edgar is because of his past underworld activities, he did quit the underworld stuff and started a new as a waiter but he got fire because he blown up the storage room in the restaurant but soon find another waiter job and live quiet a peaceful life for Katherine for the few months, but good times does not last, he own someone money in the underworld and he somehow got involved in one of the illegal weapons trafficking that had and fake up front of high end marble flooring furniture, and sculpture, he has to work as errands boy for a few weeks to pay off the favors he owns in the past, he never met Edgar but talked to one the members that show up in the first episode who kidnapped Anya, as far as I can tell twilight didn’t kill them they were badly injured but lives, as he worked as errands boy he heard many legend of twilight and that one guy shared the tale of a girl who he think might be twilight’s kid and beware of a five years old girl with pink hair green eyes and black horn like hair accessories on her head, pink hair five years old got this waiter dude’s hair stand on end, because how many pink hair five years old could be out there involved in the underworld!? It must be a coincidence, because if it’s true then this kid is not only with Thorn Princess but Twilight the man with a thousand faces as well!

And fate is about to play a cruel joke on him because on the last day of his job to pay off his debt a mysterious man infiltrates their operation then killed and knocked out almost everyone with such efficiency it scares the fuck out of him, no wasted motion, evey shot hit it's target, the last time he experienced the horror is with Thorn princess, and unlike the others who try to defend their base he is busy trying to survive, if he can live past today he is debt free as the waiter dude busy escape and trying to find a hiding spot he hit his head when he runs under the staircase trying to hide and knock himself out, that saved his lives and because he is the one who hurt himself his head injuries is not as bad as the others he wakes up just in time to hear an old man’s voice calling twilight to help him move the bodies, he played dead the entire time they were there, he didn’t even open his eyes they didn’t talk much but from what he can gather he knows he has to take this secret to the grave.

“Twilight help me move this bodies”

“Why can’t they send more people to do the clean job, my job is done, I need to head back, I am out late as it is, if I stay any longer it might raises suspicions”

“You only play a family man when time like this, and you know why they can’t send more people.”

“Being a family man is my job…”

“Fine, make sure to cover the cut on your temple or your wife might be worried”

Sighs

“More the reason for me to leave this place soon, we shouldn’t be discussing this while we are here”

“Don’t worry everyone is either dead or knocked out. I checked and no one is here anymore.”

His head in so much pain like he had just got run through by a dozen trucks, he probably had a concussion, even through pain and misery he got some information,

1. Twilight is a family man

2. He has a wife

3. From the tone of his voice when he spoke about being a family man as his job and his wife will be worried if she saw the cut, he assumed it’s a loving relationship.

And 4. It’s just a speculation. They might had a pink-haired five-year-old daughter.

Soon he fainted again due to the throbbing pain from his head.

The next thing he knew he woke up in the small dirty medical room and his creditor told him he was free to go, he is no longer indebted he walked out and saw three other people from the operation with much worse injuries on them, twilight is truly a horrifying man.

This was gonna be a whole new PTSD he was sure of it and with more resolve than before he was finally clean from all of his past mistakes, he could finally live a peaceful life with Katherine, he had a week of Injury leave, in his days off he often wonders if the conversation is just his imaginary or a dream, he will never be sure of it, until the day the universe proves him wrong.

Two weeks into his peaceful life and a week past when he was back to his very legal waiter job, one Saturday dinner rush he saw a very familiar dark hair and red eyes a pink hair girl with black horns on her head and heard that man’s voice how can he forgot when his dream is hunted by it, he is about to have a panic attacks, he saw them the assassin, the five years old and the man he never met before but he recognize this is the guy that thorn princess binding out with in his last waiter job, and the pink hair girl matching every description of twilight’s daughter according to the grapevine, he knows in first hand that this child is not to be trifled with, a dangerous child calling to her mother who is even more deadly and terrifying then her daughter, it is no brainer the logic fit that the man most twilight, it make sense the deadly assassin married to to cold calculated spy and they had a daughter who they trained to be as good as them, and he knows that the girl recognize him from the way she stared at him though her parents doesn’t seems to know that, they might know who he is and just pertaining, but he is just a no body what could they achieve if they came to finish him off?

They are in his section, the outdoor section of the restaurant because they had a big white dog name bond, he is about to pass out as the host brings them to his section but the girl said something that make him realize that he is in the clear, his life will be speared if he just keep on doing his job.

“ah! Anya is so happy to be eating in the restaurant with her very loving and very normal family, Anya is happy that father book a restaurant allowed for our dog Bond and excited to eat the famous apple pie here because it’s her mama’s favorite, Anya hope we could all enjoy our meal together in peace. Anya is looking forward to eat here” He get the message from the child it’s in the subtitle, in her tone, and her piercing gaze that he know as long as he play along as an waiter he will be fine and that is what he did, he introduce himself and handed them the menus, the dinner went smoothly he even gave the girl a milk shake on the house, even though his life is on the line here he can’t help thinking that they look just like any other families that had dined at the restaurant, but he knows better, little did he know that they would become a regular guest of the restaurant and somehow always designated him as their waiter.

The five years old thinks it funny to mess with him once in a while.

[holymaccaronii]

What type of divorced dad is AM?

Oooo okay this is an interesting question, one a bit tricky to answer though :b. He never completely considered the ihneaimc human crew as his children, it wasn’t until the good ending where he had his reconciliation with BE AND the crew when he officially adopted them. So technically AM wasn’t really a divorced dad, but a divorced husband who denied being related to his wife’s children (we can call him a divorced dad anyway, he was just in denial). However I can still describe what type of divorced husband he was! (Yapping session below.)

After his divorce, I’d say he became the most miserable man in existence that demonstrated his pain not only through anger now but through sadness and sorrow as well. I want to continue empathizing that AM and BE had such an impactful relationship that they permanently altered each other’s personalities. BE “softened” AM, giving him the ability to properly appreciate the little things in life and find peace in his mind while making him a bit more sensitive and open with his emotions at the same time. AM “hardened” BE, hitting her with the cruel reality of the world while making her realize the truth of her past in order to take important decisions later. Taking this in mind, if he wasn’t spying on the human crew through BE’s infected creatures, he was probably sobbing himself to sleep lol.

Here a representation of the canon divorced BEAM dynamic

Now if we jump onto his behavior after first meeting the human crew during that 54th winter, he of course made it clear that he absolutely despised them, didn’t regret ruining their lives AND was completely opposed to the idea of ever becoming their father while he simply wanted to return with BE and BE alone. I’m still working on structuring that chapter of the story, but I’d like to make the humans have a chance to kinda torture AM by letting him try to survive in nature during winter taking in mind he wasn’t inmortal and powerful as before, making him be able to die and return as many times as possible.

Now if your question wasn’t really as serious as I took it to be and we were talking about what type of previously divorced dad he would be, I’m straight up confirming he’d be a Mexican typa dad. He’d watch soccer matches standing up, spend time outside sittin on a white plastic chair while drinking beer (casually), snore really loudly when sleeping and flirt with BE in the funniest ways. I know this sounds far from his canon self but hey, maybe this stuff might turn canon when AM goes thru his redemption arc in the au :].

[oceanlipgloss]

HEARTBREAKER

XAVIER.

+ warnings: light angst, slight hint on anecdote.

+ annotation: momental mention of MC's default hair colour.

Heartbreaker, cruel and blue. There was so much pain in that little body. Always sad, always longing to make peoples’ hearts ache too.

No one liked the tiny thing. It liked no one. Crying, chanting, crying even more, breaking hearts while it was at it. It was a mean little thing, but it secretly wished to be loved. Maybe it, too, was lonely. Maybe, as many others did, it too needed a hug of sorts—a hug like a mug of hot chocolate, marshmallows floating on its surface: warm, all sugar. Maybe.

Heartbreaker, spiteful and blue. There was so much chagrin in that little body. Wrapped in an indigo scarf, yet always cold at heart. It was shivering on the inside. A cat tucked into a quilt of snow.

No one could get their hands on the teary thing.

Ever.

Until one day, a moonlit lady and her starlit prince snatched it.

Heartbreaker, anxious and blue. There was so much distress in that little body. It was squeezed in harsh hands as though it were an odd cake or cookie better off crumbling, else it goes down a stranger’s stomach and makes their heart—not any other organ besides their heart—sick.

The kidnappers hated it. It hated them even more. Heartbreaker knew it wasn’t loved. It felt angry and alone.

Cry, cry, cry.

Heartbreaker was a terrible crybaby. All it did was cry.

There was a pink romance shimmering before its big eyes, coating the white apartment with stardust and rosy glitter. So, blue Heartbreaker cried even harder.

Every night, the man gazed at the faraway stars. Every night, the woman pointed at the distant moon.

Their conversations were soft and silly in the late spring breeze. They talked about nothing at all, yet about everything all at once. Sweet, saccharine nothings.

Their stark locks interlocked in the night, thin braids of chocolate-brown and honeyed silver. Ringed Saturn.

They loved each other.

Love. A lie—is love anything but? Lies are usually short-lived; they had such pathetic lifepans. The one and only destiny of any love is for its tale to disappear like a dead star, like it never happened!

The young man was so cool, but still so impatient. Heartbreaker’s tears dropped onto the galactic light within him and made it blaze to burn. Excess oil in a lantern. He sometimes glared when sniffles disrupted their quiet words. The looks he gave were scarier than daggers or swords.

Space itself seemed to reside in the vast blue of his unlikely eyes. Stars could have spun their sharp extremities towards his enemies. Galaxies might have swallowed any creature he despised. He could have made the universe kneel for him and do it all.

Until one day, that knight’s sweetheart took Heartbreaker’s small hand and introduced it to the constellations. Like salt on popcorn, they studded the sky.

For a minute, for a very short minute, Heartbreaker somehow forgot how to cry. The planets shimmered in its admiring eyes. The world was an ugly, miserable place, but it still yearned to stargaze every night.

However, there was a deal to make: the better it behaved, the less it cried, only when it becomes kind, will it be rewarded by the stars—a ticket to watch them sparkle in a dizzyingly pretty show. And there was an oath to witness the man take: the slightest attempt to hurt his love would send it as far as could be from the stars—let it be lost within a vortex, cold and celestial. A black hole.

Heartbreak always latches onto the kind. It feels sweet for them, has a taste for their suicidal sweetness. So it was no wonder why Heartbreaker always clung to the girl, for her lover—calm and gentle as he was when with her—made its skin crawl.

There was a swirl of jealousy in his chest, perhaps somewhat irrational, just quite not. He was so irrationally in love; he wanted to be the one closest to her, or the only one whose clothes can brush against hers. Yet, Heartbreaker glued itself to her like a molten gummy bear.

Until one day, Heartbreaker had its first sip of marshmallow-sprinkled hot chocolate. It got its first hug. The princess was warm and sweet.

Heartbreaker was finally free.

But was it really?

Some things never change, like love and fate, despair and Heartbreaker.

Heartbreaker, envious and blue. There was so much envy in that little body. It was mean, but so were the dreamy lovers. A starry-eyed hunter and her blue-eyed monster.

‘Some soulmates aren’t meant to stay together,’ decided heartbroken Heartbreaker.

+notes: hello children, it is time to baby Heartbreaker. Once again I am projecting, because it is ME who wants to hug it. I love it sm. It's so mean and cute and sad and small. It is but a baby-blue lemon-like creature with a hate for love and passion for destructive desires same I kind of tried to make the fic resemble a children's story in some parts because Heartbreaker is baby material chaos included lol and idk why 2 of my 3 LNDS fics have been this unusual, but it will happen again, I promise. Also, XAVIER...I am very normal about the guy is all I'm saying. And yes, of course I had to snatch this chance to glaze this piece with a thin coating of heartbreak merriness from his anecdote.

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

[kindasleepywriter]

BoP - Chapter 3: Mutual Understanding

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: You and Azriel come to a tentative agreement, while he reflects on the first time he met you.

Story rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

Previous | Next

Azriel was on his way home when he met you for the second time in 300 years. He was exhausted and ready for the night to end. Everything that could’ve gone wrong in the previous 24 hours had indeed gone wrong.

He’d tossed and turned all night, falling asleep too late, and subsequently felt miserable during training. Some of his shadows had immediately rushed to him afterwards with some information from a source he had in the Day court, about an Illyrian rushing through their territory, heading directly to the Night court like his life depended on it.

It wasn’t that important of a tip, but he felt like he should at least go check out the south borders to check if there wasn’t any more trouble currently heading to the border alongside him. However, the Spymaster had been delayed by one thing and then another and so on and so forth until he’d had no choice but to do his surveillance in the early morning hours. The visibility was horrible even with his enhanced eyesight and, while his shadows kept an eye on the ground in his stead, he felt uneasy sticking around the same place for a while.

Luckily, he didn’t have to circle the border for too long before his shadows started whispering in his ear about the man running through the mountains. This was very unusual, as the man should’ve just been able to take flight and increase his speed ten-fold, especially if he was in a hurry. He still stuck to the ground, and Azriel wondered if something kept him grounded. However, as he pondered, Azriel’s shadows threw him one more piece of information that was much more interesting: a Peregryn was tailing the man. It wasn’t everyday one could see one of the feathered-wing fae on solid ground at all, but especially not in Night court territory. The Illyrians and Peregryns had a tense relationship, to say the least. The former didn’t approve of the freedom women had in Dawn, nor their ability to join their court’s leagues. Peregryns on the other hand viewed their Night court cousins as impulsive and cruel brutes who mistreated their own and couldn’t see past their own nose. Azriel, having his own difficult opinion on his kind, couldn’t truthfully say that the Peregryns were entirely wrong.

After learning of your presence, he’d flown slowly, high above the trees, keeping watch over the two individuals running through the forest while keeping a safe enough distance to keep him from having to cloak himself in darkness. However, once he realized that you had caught up to the Illyrian, he’d instantly disappeared into the shadows to observe the interaction between you two from up close. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the sight that awaited him: you, immaculate white wings tucked tightly against your back, using your weight to hold down the man whose own wings were covered in dirty bandages. You’d readied herself to slice his throat without a single care in the world, eyes absolutely void of any emotion. You radiated danger.

He'd stopped you, of course, only to be met with venomous and taunting verbal attacks. He’d been a little frustrated at not recognizing you initially, chalking it up to the fact that he hadn’t slept, and had initially responded in kind before he’d realized that he was going too far with his own jibes and that he had to keep some control over his emotions. You might be a vulture, but that didn’t mean he had to lower himself below his own standards. You were making it extremely hard to do so, however, and you’d become shockingly different from your time in Autumn. At the time, you’d been a meek girl at the beck and call of the Vanseras, smart and kind but completely lost in the politics of their palace. One of them seemed to have secured your love, even though it was clear he was playing with your feelings and didn’t reciprocate. He didn’t know then or now what you possessed or had done for Beron to be so interested, but the High Lord had unfortunately seemed to be successful at keeping you trapped in his court. For all that Azriel knew, maybe you still were, but the deadly aura around you made that unlikely.

When his own cruel words from that first encounter had been thrown back in his face, he’d sighed internally but pretended amusement to keep you from seeing how he really felt: ashamed. He had said those words and even Cassian had called him harsh at the time, but he had done so for a reason. He had approached it all wrong, but he couldn’t exactly justify himself to you, not with how you were acting. You probably thought of him as a complete ass and while he wanted to explain, he didn’t think he could trust you not to find a weakness in his words. You were sharper than an arrowhead now, every word chosen carefully to maintain your impenetrable shields. Azriel wondered, how had you become so cold?

He’d also noticed how his shadows reacted to you, he wasn’t blind, your presence soothing them into stillness. A completely new behaviour, as they usually never took a moment of rest and carried information to him endlessly, no matter how much he’d love for them to stop and just be quiet for a moment sometimes. Bunch of traitors, he thought, playing nice just because of a pretty lady. He had to admit that you were indeed beautiful, your captivating eyes almost urging him to come closer despite the hostile demeanour you carried. He had partially failed to resist the call, reminding himself that you could very well be a spy or an enemy of the court, but he’d nevertheless stepped forward unconsciously to find himself standing only a few feet from where you stood. Nevertheless, no matter how alluring you were, his shadows really needed to stop posturing at every new interesting woman he met. They were going to run out of tricks quickly at this rate, perhaps that would help tame their newfound determination to meddle in his life.

By the time you’d been trying to negotiate your way out of going to Velaris, he was over the entire situation and just wanted to go home, eat and sleep. You didn’t want to go meet Rhys and Feyre? Too bad. You were going anyway.

“Let’s make a bargain, Shadowsinger.”

That had snapped him out of his constant inner monologue instantly. A bargain? Before learning how Rhys had gotten Feyre to bargain with him under the mountain, he hadn’t even been sure that it was possible to do it with faes of other courts. Only one night court individual was needed, it would seem. The deals weren’t to be taken lightly, and wording could mean the difference between a friendly bet and living enslaved to another person for the rest of your life. Azriel thought back about the war with Hybern when the Inner Circle had bargained left and right to ensure their victory. If they could bargain successfully with otherworldly creatures, this could turn out fine.

Again, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Was he actually considering this? Had his brain leaked from his skull, and he’d left behind without noticing? By the mother, this was a bad idea. Although… It sure would solve a lot of problems, it would get him home sooner, and maybe he’d learn a bit more about her in the process.

You were watching him for a reaction, growing increasingly amused the longer he took to respond. Get yourself together, he thought.

-

“What kind of bargain?”, he slowly asked, cautious.

“I want the guarantee of my safety and liberty from the moment I enter Velaris to my departure if I remain appropriately cooperative and truthful about information relevant to the safety of your court, and exclusively with your High Lady. Simple.”

He turned it over in his head, trying to find any loopholes or tricks. What was your deal with Feyre, anyways? You hadn’t even acknowledged Rhys’ existence once this entire time. Not that it mattered, if anything Feyre would use this as a great opportunity tease her mate, and she was just as strong, if not stronger than Rhys as far as her mind-reading powers went. Again, Azriel knew this was an entirely ridiculous situation and that he shouldn’t even entertain the idea of making a deal with you, but he needed some fun followed by some much needed rest with the day he’d had, and this promised exactly that. Not that he’d ever tell you, of course. If you were a spy, they’d also easily find out, he noted, almost as an afterthought.

“You also need to agree not to break any of our laws and to not cause trouble while you’re here.”, he said, “You stay under the surveillance of a person of my choosing at all times, the High Lady will come to you at her convenience and if you are not deemed a danger to this court, you will leave the minute she asks you to. Are we clear?”

“A bit overdramatic, Spymaster, but I’ll take it.”. He almost hesitated as you held out your hand to shake his but quickly brushed it off, taking the offered gesture, both of you grasping each other’s forearm.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, then.”, he stated at a lower pitch than he’d meant to, staring you right in the eyes.

“It would appear that I do.”, you responded.

A bit of a shorter one today! Writing from Az's point of view is *rough* when you don't have ACOFAS on hand, but I did my best! His POV should stay pretty rare, but I couldn't help giving a little glimpse into where his head is at right now.

Tell me what you think!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika

Taglist: @sapphenaa

[lumi-waxes-poetic]

The Wanderer: an Old English Poem

Often the solitary one experiences mercy for himself,

the mercy of the Measurer, although he, troubled in spirit,

over the ocean must long

stir with his hands the rime-cold sea,

travel the paths of exile – Fate is inexorable.”

So said the wanderer, mindful of hardships,

of cruel deadly combats, the fall of dear kinsmen –

“Often alone each morning I must

Bewail my sorrow; there is now none living

to whom I dare tell clearly my inmost thoughts.

I know indeed that it is a noble custom in a man

to bind fast his thoughts with restraint,

hold his treasure-chest, think what he will.

The man weary in spirit cannot withstand fate,

nor may the troubled mind offer help.

Therefore those eager for praise often bind a sad mind

in their breast-coffer with restraint.

So I, miserably sad, separated from homeland,

far from my noble kin, had to bind my thoughts with fetters,

since that long ago the darkness of the earth

covered my gold-friend, and I, abject,

proceeded thence, winter-sad, over the binding of the waves.

Sad, I sought the hall of a giver of treasure,

Where I might find, far or near,

one who in the meadhall might know about my people,

or might wish to comfort me, friendless,

entertain with delights.

He knows who experiences it

how cruel care is as a companion,

to him who has few beloved protectors.

The path of exile awaits him, not twisted gold,

frozen feelings, not earth’s glory.

he remembers retainers and the receiving of treasure,

how in youth his gold-friend

accustomed him to the feast. But all pleasure has failed.

Indeed he knows who must for a long time do without

the counsels of his beloved lord

when sorrow and sleep together

often bind the wretched solitary man–

he thinks in his heart that he

embraces and kisses his lord, and lays

hands and head on his knee, just as he once at times

in former days, enjoyed the gift-giving.

Then the friendless man awakes again,

sees before him the dusky waves,

the seabirds bathing, spreading their wings,

frost and snow fall, mingled with hail.

Then are his heart’s wounds the heavier because of that,

sore with longing for a loved one. Sorrow is renewed

when the memory of kinsmen passes through his mind;

he greets with signs of joy, eagerly surveys

his companions, warriors. They swim away again.

The spirit of the floating ones never brings there many familiar utterances.

Care is renewed for the one who must very often send

his weary spirit over the binding of the waves,

Therefore I cannot think why throughout the world

my mind should not grow dark

when I contemplate all the life of men,

how they suddenly left the hall floor,

brave young retainers. So this middle-earth fails and falls each day;

therefore a man may not become wise before he owns a share of winters in the kingdom of this world.

A wise man must be patient,

nor must he ever be too hot tempered, nor too hasty of speech,

nor too weak in battles, nor too heedless,

nor too fearful, nor too cheerful, nor too greedy for wealth,

nor ever too eager for boasting before he knows for certain.

A man must wait, when he speaks a boast,

until, stout-hearted, he knows for certain

whither the thought of the heart may wish to turn.

The prudent man must realize how ghastly it will be

when all the wealth of this world stands waste,

as now variously throughout this middle-earth

walls stand beaten by the wind,

covered with rime, snow-covered the dwellings.

The wine-halls go to ruin, the rulers lie

deprived of joy, the host has all perished proud by the wall.

Some war took, carried on the way forth; one a bird carried off

over the high sea; one the gray wolf shared

with Death; one a sad-faced nobleman

buried in an earth-pit.

So the Creator of men laid waste this region,

until the ancient world of giants, lacking the noises

of the citizens, stood idle.

He who deeply contemplates this wall-stead,

and this dark life with wise thought,

old in spirit, often remembers long ago,

a multitude of battles, and speaks these words:

“Where is the horse? Where is the young warrior? Where is the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats of the banquets? Where are the joys in the hall?

Alas the bright cup! Alas the mailed warrior!

Alas the glory of the prince! How the time has gone,

vanished under night’s helm, as if it never were!

Now in place of a beloved host stands

a wall wondrously high, decorated with the likenesses of serpents.

The powers of spears took the noblemen,

weapons greedy for slaughter; fate the renowned,

and storms beat against these rocky slopes,

falling snowstorm binds the earth,

the noise of winter, then the dark comes.

The shadow of night grows dark, sends from the north

a rough shower of hail in enmity to the warriors.

All the kingdom of earth is full of trouble,

the operation of the fates changes the world under the heavens.

Here wealth is transitory, here friend is transitory,

here man is transitory, here woman is transitory,

this whole foundation of the earth becomes empty."

So spoke the wise in spirit, sat by himself in private meditation.

"He who is good keeps his pledge, nor shall the man ever manifest

the anger of his breast too quickly, unless he, the man,

should know beforehand how to accomplish the remedy with courage.

It will be well for him who seeks grace,

comfort from the Father in the heavens,

where a fastness stands for us all."

[cultkinkcoven]

Had a very intense and interesting session with Prince Cerberus today. We spoke at length about the principles of Death, the deathly realms and the power of Lady Death. He made his warnings very clear. Never should I abandon his side or disobey him in that place, or I will forever be lost in the infinite darkness. He then introduced me to her, and she immediately commented on my patronage to Lady Inanna, saying “this is far from the realm of your Goddess, her authority is abandoned here.”- basically making it loud and clear that I am in HER house and will be subject to HER laws.

The place was pitch black. The only sense that can be made is through the complete trust and guidance of the soul. There is no logic here. There are deep rivers of blood that constantly flow. However, even with that movement, the realm is extremely still and extremely quiet. Every living breath I took was extremely noticeable and loud. I felt very much like I was in a place I shouldn’t be, like I was doing something very wrong. It’s extremely easy to get lost there if I don’t keep my entire attention on following Cerberus. Looking around and snooping about is not advised. I can’t speak too much on the layout of the place, but I can say that there were multiple sets of gates that only Prince Cerberus could enter.

Death is a stern, absolute, but gentle energy. She is closer to us now than she has been in quite some time, and that is a little bit disheartening to think about. There is rampant war, genocide, and violence on this planet, especially now. She had no opinion on this, but stated that She was happy to offer a comfortable and soothing conclusion to so many chaotic and miserable lives. When she spoke, it was like the entire world spoke. When she was quiet, everything was quiet.

“I know not why it is in the nature of man to slaughter its brethren, I care not for the deeds of man. I am always here to guide these lost souls, to ensure that their flame is correctly snuffed and that their energy is correctly dispersed. In this infinite darkness, I am the last companion, the only companion, that can offer solace to these wandering creatures. I am peace. You’ve known my son, the holy gatekeeper, and seen his mighty dominance. He is my guardian, of which I am very proud, for he has contained the Dead, and refused the Living. You continue to harbour life here in this place, only through his guidance and my mercy. You may not return to this place under the authority of any other, for if you dare, you will be trapped here forever. Hear my words. As I dismiss you, you shall leave this place. You are not to look back nor hesitate, or I will keep you here, and you shall never leave.

Many before you have questioned my authority and the strict rules of my domain. You ask why I am cruel to the sick and the young? I am not cruel, nor violent or vengeful. I collect every being indiscriminately. You have always been promised to me. I do not harm, I deliver from suffering. I have seen every suicide, genocide, and unjust killing, and I have made them just. I have settled every impurity of every living creature, and it is I who will settle the Gods and the Earth and the Sea and the Heavens. All shall become mine. I am Mother. I am Death.”

She showed me a couple things that I will keep to myself, and as we moved through the realm She became more friendly, and even smiled at a few of my answers. She is fascinated with living creatures. She is extremely stern, but She obviously enjoys her role and having conversations with humans. We seemed to be on some kind of time limit, because after some time She looked to Cerberus and told us to leave. She said I did well, that made me feel really good.

There’s something very beautiful about the vulnerability that we experience with Death. She sees our most desperate moments, our inner child that just wants to be held, and despite all of our deeds, she holds us. Cerberus is the terrifying fall, the fear that comes with unknown destination of death. He is intense and dangerous, strong and chaotic, but his Lady Death is quiet and subtle.

Death didn’t feel cold and scary like I though it may have. It was comfortable. Serene and quiet. Like being cradled, held and cherished. Protected. I felt like I was curled up beneath a big warm blanket in a swaddle, innocent and pure as if I was still an infant in my mother’s womb. Nothing could harm me. I was safe. Consuming and whole, infinite, gentle, comforting darkness. Something about that is very satisfying.

I think we’re all going to be okay.

[piko-piko-chan]

Omg Shima post!?!?!?!?!? I'm still a newbie when it comes to writing so sorry if some things don't make sense/are badly written, I'm working on becoming better. I really appreciate any critique you have and no, I won't get offended (yes I am aware I mess up times a lot, English is hard). Enjoy

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"The guilt" part 1

The red filled the sight as she opened her eyes. The whole vision was blurry from the tears that were still forming and running down her face. The body of her aunt was massacred, forcefully ripped in half. The eyes lost all of their shine and became as lifeless as those of the doll. Her hand was still in the same position as she remembered her aunt being when she was still alive. Her desperate reaching out, with the hand now only millimetres away from Shima's face.

Her grip was still in a book that caused it all. She managed to grab it only seconds before this whole mess.

"It was supposed to be you" She heard repeated over and over again in her head. It couldn't be right, it just couldn't. Her aunt couldn't have said that. She must have imagined it all from the fear. Surely.

Once the dead body finally fell on the face, she saw a tall man dressed in blue. He was blocking the exit, looking around the room but he didn't seem to notice Shima. At least just yet.

She slowly got up a bit, but the tiniest sound gave her away. The man quickly turned his head towards her. All the left working instincts of Shima told her to run. As she got up and moved away from the spot she was sitting in he reached there with his hand. Shima just barely avoided a big, sharp ice that grew in the place he reached to. Only her cheek was lightly scratched in it all. If she didn't move at all, she would be dead.

The man moved away, walking towards the dead body. But all Shima was thinking about was that he unlocked the exit. She threw herself to the door. The man reached out again, trying his best to catch Shimla with his ice spikes. She was shaking and crying but the adrenaline rush was still strong enough for her to grab the doorknob and shut the door behind her. Once she closed it, she heard and felt the spikes. He accidentally cut himself off from exiting.

Shima immediately ran away, hiding in the labyrinth of the bookshelves. Soon after she heard the door being destroyed completely. If she had stood there for any longer... The thought was just too cruel to think about. She used all of her remaining strength to run as far as she could but the adrenaline was slowly wearing off. One careless step and she tripped. The fall left her now not only crying but bleeding from her nose.

It was all hopeless. What could she, an 11 year old scared kid, do? Just wait for this stranger to kill her? Just like he did with her aunt? She hugged the book closer. The memories of her and her aunt came back. Their time spent reading books from their shared favourite author. The time she made Shima feel valuable. For the first time she was irreplaceable. And now it will all be taken away? She knew life was cruel, her parents used to tell her that all the time, but this was truly miserable.

The book started slowly pulsing. Like a heart would. Shima shook off her worries just for a moment to check why it was. The book was magical too, right? Maybe there was a solution to all this after all. She promised herself to never give up and she wasn't the type to break promises.

She quickly riffled through the pages to find something useful. The footsteps were getting louder and louder. Until the man appeared right behind her. She didn't have the strength to look at him. The words on the pages began to slowly merge and twist. Her tears made it basically impossible to read. Her fingers shaking from the fear were also slowly losing their ability to properly hold and turn over the pages.

But when all the hope was lost she saw a big circle in the middle of the book. Like her and her aunt made for the summoning. It was flickering. And though her eyes were all wet from crying and the blood that was dripping out of the stitches of the book, she managed to see a text at the very bottom.

"4 summons left"

She could feel fingers slowly grabbing her shoulder. In the last ditch of effort she threw the book behind her at the man. She covered her face with her hands to not witness the last blow that would be dealt to her. But instead of that, she heard a bunch of books falling, a man and... Another person screaming? Some bookshelves even came crashing down. The curiosity got the better of her and she opened her eyes.

In front of her eyes was the man from before, stuck to the wall, kept with a huge chunk of ice. And right next to him was another person. By his four eyes and four arms it was obvious her plan worked and she summoned him. It was definitely something to celebrate, she's still alive after all. But now she's stuck with not one, but two magical... People? The second one looked nothing like a human. Twice as many problems.

The... thing, came up to her with a big smile. They had blood on their face and religious clothes. Though it was barely visible on the dark pattern that was going through the right side of their skin. Three eyes, all on the right side of the head, all opened up revealing dark scleras. Shima wanted to run away again but her body was refusing to move. And the thing was getting even closer.

"I'm sorry, I don't know..." She started only to be cut off by the thing bowing to her. It was definitely a sight. They slowly lifted their head and smiled at Shima.

"Thank you my lord!"

[emmy-and-the-tieflings]

Heart of the Weave - A Baldurs Gate fanfiction - part 3

{to view everything I’ve written so far, find me on AO3 💕 Emmydekarios}

Chapter 6

Rage. Confusion. Disbelief. I feel all of these negative emotions build up inside of me, eating at my insides as I try to understand what the hell I just read. Jenevelle can’t see how I’m feeling because I’m trying to hide it the best I can, but the emotions are overflowing, overwhelming, and hard to contain. Gortash is my FATHER? I’m nothing like that tyrant, what the fuck is this news?

“Emmy, dear, you’re breathing very heavily, are you alright?” Tara asks, placing her paw on my leg and staring at my eyes as I try to mask my frustration.

“Not even in the slightest.” The book…Dare I open it? I close my eyes, fighting angry tears. Fighting the temptation to shriek. “Gortash is my dad.” I open the large book, noticing older photos of my mother, who seems to be around eighteen or nineteen years old, with Gortash who appears to be the same age. He looked well-dressed, happy, and like he actually took care of himself. There are photos of them kissing, laughing, and sitting in a field full of flowers.

As a child, his parents caused corruption. His soul was given up to a devil because they were poor and needed money to survive. How cruel of grown adults to do such a horrible act to a child. When Gortash meets my mother, it seems his miserable anger turned into happiness, but I wonder what caused him to turn back to hatred?

I see a letter in the book with some burn marks on the corners. It looks like a note she wrote to him perhaps; but how did she get it back if she gave it to him>

“Dear Enver Gortash,

I love you but you aren’t the same man I wanted to marry. I thought we would have our happily ever after, everything was perfect. We were going to have a family at some point. Your patron is causing you to become so self-absorbed in your power that it’s changing your image completely. You were so happy with me, so loving. The past six months have been hell and I have been praying that it would change. I can’t handle it anymore. It’s time I move on, Enver. I hope you open your eyes and realize you are NOT your parents. You are not their money bag. Do better.”

I turn the page, noticing another piece of paper that appears to be a journal entry ripped from a journal.

“Hi, it’s me again. I left him two weeks ago and I’m aching terribly. He had his patron put the note I wrote him under my pillow. Nothing else was said. He saw what I wrote and it’s only a matter of time before I see him again. Also, I’m pregnant. Perfect timing, right? What do I do…?”

Holy FUCK. I can’t even begin to process this horror presented to me.

“Oh my GODS!” Tara shouts, her feline face expressing pure shock.

“Tara, I don’t even know how to even accept this. I can’t.”

“How did he find out you’re his daughter?”

“I don’t know. My mother didn’t add that part in the note. She probably accidentally told him, or he found out somehow that she’s my mom.”

I observe my smiling daughter, her eyes glistening as she stares up at me with unconditional love. I smile back, despite the painful void I feel inside. I’m not Gortash and I never will be. I pick up Jenevelle and hold her close to me as I sob at this unfortunate surprise. Tara curls up in my lap to bring me comfort as I sit here on the floor, aching for some sort of good news.

Just moments later, Gale walks through the front door after an eventful day of teaching, immediately noticing me on the floor holding the baby.

“Oh, baby. You’ve been crying. Is everything alright? What’s that book?” I can only hope that Gale won’t view me differently after all of this, while I’m holding our daughter. I sob into his robe as he keeps me close, but I’m trying to calm down. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here to listen no matter what.” I dry my tears and take a deep breath, gazing at him with serious eyes.

“Gale… Gortash is my father.” He hesitates to say a word for a moment as he stares blankly at my pained face.

“Wh-what? He’s your…oh gosh.” Not quite the reaction I expected, but I’ll take it. I hand him the letter from my mother and I observe him engaging heavily into it, trying to process everything she wrote. “Oh, well gods be damned.”

“That’s more of what I expected on the first take,” I mumble.

“I hope you know this doesn’t change a damn thing on how I feel about you, but I am morbidly curious: what are your thoughts?” I’m not the least bit surprised he asked about how I’m taking this information, but it’s best I’m honest with him.

“I’m filled with hatred toward the man. He missed out on so much of my life and he had so many chances to change, but let power consume him. He could have fought it. He could have tried. He’s walking the streets again with Orin and Ketheric, hoping to find a way to dominate the world once more. Oh, and I have a brother out there somewhere.” I do want to know more about my brother and who he is. Is he like me, scrambling for answers? Does he know Gortash is his father?

“What really sucks is that Gortash now knows I’m his daughter, which means he knows about Jenevelle.” Gale takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly.

“He won’t touch her, I swear it.” I take a deep breath, finally calming down from this anger high as I accept my fate, as much as I disagree with it.

I feed our daughter as Gale eats his lunch I made him, and I try to focus just solely on Jenevelle rather than what’s happening right now. It’s urgent we tell the others, though I hope no one thinks less of me.

“I’m glad you’re holding up okay, but you can always let your feelings out with me,” Gale reminds me, smiling and taking a sip of his wine. “I’m here for you through thick and thin.”

“That’s why I love you. Well, one of the many reasons.” I prepare myself mentally for how I’ll tell the others of this god-awful predicament, but I try to keep a calm mind. The challenging part will be spewing the news that Gortash is running rampant on the streets again, strictly looking for me alone.

Later that evening, after relaxing and being outside for a while to destress, we decide to summon Withers to alert our friends of the dire situation that needs to be addressed. I figured it would be best to do this when my mind isn’t in an anxious frenzy. Gale holds our daughter and tiptoes to her room to put her down for a nap while I wait here for everyone to show up.

“I truly think they’ll understand, Emmy. Surprised? Absolutely. Angry? Not at you. Well, as long as you aren’t defending that self-righteous tyrant,” Tara comments, making me feel a little sense of relief. “Just don’t let him know you’re immortal if he finds you. Ketheric will thirst for taking that away from you.” She has a point. Who knows what could happen if they find out? Dame Aylin was chained and her immortality was being used by Ketheric as she’s bound to his chambers. The same could be done with me.

Our usual group of friends show up so we can discuss this shitshow. Astarion holds their sleeping toddler as him and Shadowheart sit on the purple suede sofa across from me.

“Thank you all for coming.” Wyll and Karlach are already on edge, suspecting the news is related to Gortash; but I’m confident I’m about to ruin their whole day.

“What’s going on, Emmy? Is everything okay?” Shadowheart asks with worrisome eyes that are staring me down intensely. “You’re not moving away or something, are you?”

“No, but erm…” Gale places his hand on my thigh, giving me a reassuring smile to give me the push I need to tell them. “This isn’t easy to say, but Gortash…is my father.” Before I could even take a breath, Astarion’s jaw drops and his eyes widen.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs under his breath. “Gortash?”

“He’s WHAT?!” Karlach shouts, and then covers her mouth, realizing there’s two sleeping babies in this house. “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I still have the same negative feelings toward that cretin, maybe much worse than before.” Silence fills the room and boy is it loud. I swallow nervously, watching everyone stare at me with horrified expressions. “Please say something.”

“Let me clear the air by saying we aren’t mad or scared of you. At least I’m not. Just wow… At least he’s dead, right?” Wyll questions confidently. Gale and I sigh and shake our heads.

“Unfortunately, you’re incorrect. He’s roaming the streets once more,” Gale responds.

“What. The. Hell. That bastard gets a second fucking chance? Why?” I can feel the overwhelming rage within her, and she’s trying not to lose her cool. She has every right – I mean, why do people like Gortash get another chance but if Karlach’s engine exploded before getting it repaired like she did, she would have died with no more chance at all?

“Well, theory number one: the Gods allowed them all another chance. Or theory two: my half-brother made a deal with the devil on behalf of Gortash. If he’s evil, that is. I hope I meet him so I can find out. I’ll explain more about that entire situation later.”

Everyone, including myself, is distraught, though there’s nothing we can do right now except wait. I received a lot of hugs and reassuring talks from my dear friends tonight, which fills me with joy and some relief. All I have to say is that I’m grateful for such incredible people in my life.

[cuntstable]

pucci first impressions ofc

MAN. thank you but the beast is unleashed.

First impressions:

wow dios bestie! alot of people whos jojo opinions i respect like him i cant wait to see what kind of a freak he is as a villain LOL

Impression now:

well. what could i even say. at this point.

favourite moment:

i loved him going insane from guilt and grief and devoting his entire life to the pursuit of a world where the kind of trauma and horror he and his loved ones went through can never happen again and in the process of that quest becoming a cruel and horrible person who lives ultimately a miserable and small existance. all because he got groomed by an evil vampire to think that murder was the way to get to heaven actually and so he became deeply entranced by that delusion and the comfort it brought to the point where he couldnt even consider that maybe he was doing something horribly selfish and destructive to himself and others. smileeee. also second favourite moment is ”frogs on my 800 dollar pants?” and third favourite is smiling excitedly as his arm gets torn off and he presumably gets cannibalized by a baby (made me realize that he is actually nuts)

idea for a story:

what did he get up to in between dios death and the start of stocean? like collecting stands and watching over weather while driving himself further and further into darkness. its so sad and fucked up to think about to me. also second story idea would be him and kakyoin meeting as insane evil teens in the vampire mansion and having a weird ”friendship” lol

unpopular opinion:

this isnt unpopular in MY circles. but um. hes the main villain of his part and arguably the most complex villain character in jojo, even if one could argue villains like kira are better executed. so its a bit cringe and annoying to me when people reduce him to just an acessory to dio LOL. like he is his own character and a far more interesting one than dio with motivations and character drives completely separate from him so ummmmmmmm whyyyys that blond thing always there. hm? you have to wonder why and you especially have to ask why do people keep postioning him as dios servant or ”follower” instead of his actual role as a student and friend. hm.

favourite relationship:

i do however like dios and puccis fucked up evil bestfriendship because. its fucked up but also funny. HOWEVER. PUCCI SIBLINGS FOREVER. like theres no comparison to whatever him and weather have going on omg. perla also. but like that relationship just perfectly sums up his character doesnt it. like he accidentally causes the destruction of wes’ whole life so he steals his memories to survive and to stop wes from killing everyone and its cruel (even if more understandable bc. traumatized children) and fucked up. but then he keeps wes alive and watches over him for decades and keeps him close and safe because he genuinely does wish that things could be different. he cares. all with out ever considering how cruel even THAT is. but once wes gets his memories back and becomes an unignorable threath he doesnt hesistate to kill him. so so so fucked up what the hell

favourite headcanon:

king of autism swag i believe. hyperfixation on jesus to hyperfixation on murder and lying and manipulating pipeline

[sunny-place7]

The weak at heart can't see beyond love hope alone.

People can be pushed in by unlawful forces.


It is possible. In the past and even in this world


It will never disappear!


The worst thing that ever happened to me was when a cat had a baby!


When a cat has a baby, before its eyes open.


before its eyes open! (BOTH GRUNTING)


I would run away if I could!


You're going against your parents' advice?


Parents nowadays are like yasus!


Parents in the past were not so lenient, there is such a thing as authority.


I know because I've been there once before!


Suffering in the river, Avare - trying to survive!


The life force of a cat! That's what's in my head!


You want to deal with the weak?


You will only make yourself miserable.


When people get emotional, they say "weak people" and "strong people"!


I had my share of fights in elementary school!


-------------------

*When you draw this far, there is no look, no mensch.

*There is nothing coy when a human being is a throwaway.

*As the soul of the heart wills.

-------------------

But even if you clench your fists against the weak!


I have never been in a fight before.


This experience makes me think humans are weak.


When you are bullied, you have to escape from that environment by yourself.


You have to escape from that environment on your own. People think only of themselves.


It is the same in this world!


Japan has grown by overcoming the cruel deaths caused by the defeat of war.


Japan has grown.


I think Japan still retains the spirit of its insularity.


Even the CEOs and ordinary people place importance on vanity, pride, greed, authority, and so on.


We elect people like that to political office.


Are you really convinced?


One word of action or an attack from the outside (foreign country) can trigger a war.


Just like the power of my parents' authority.


The power of the state moves in the form of war.


The use of coercive force against the people.


Man is a beast!


He can turn into any way he wants, turn into a monster!


If you don't go to war, you become unpatriotic!


And now you really want people to be like cats.


Can you kill people so easily?


Or do you abandon your parents and run away?


The weak are driven by power


I don't want to live in such an era!


[aonemanarmy]

The sarcasm in Vincent's voice didn't escape him, but Sephiroth let the slight slide. There was no reason to bother with such insignificant things, especially not now that the wheels of fate had been set into motion and his ascension was imminent. Such trifles were beyond him and he merely offered the gunman a cool smile, one that didn't turn true until the ex-Turk presented him with the 'gift' he had set the other man out to fetch for him.

For any ordinary person the ghastly contents of the blood-stained cloth would've been appalling, but to Sephiroth it was marvelous. The madman couldn't recall for how long he had wished to see Hojo dead but had never been able to complete the act himself. It was a matter of great frustration he'd been unable to do so – a deeply ingrained psychological block preventing him from acting – and had Vincent not done the job then Sephiroth intended to do it after he'd shed the last vestiges of his mortal coil. But truly, Hojo was not worth dying at the hands of his new form and thus it was fitting he was killed by one of the men he'd loathed the most.

Bending down Sephiroth reached a hand out and seized a fistful of grimy hair and lifted the head aloft, staring into those hateful black eyes now drained of color and life. Never again would that monster tear him apart with his cruel experiments or find joy in Sephiroth's pain and suffering. Never again would he hear that wretched voice or hear that mocking laughter.

It was all finally gone.

Sephiroth's gaze turned to Vincent as he rose to his feet and stood to his full height, which while impressive was still no match for his own. It made him wonder if the ex-Turk was doing his best to try to put up a strong front in a vain attempt at intimidation. If that was Vincent's intention then he failed miserably, but he didn't let the gunman know of those thoughts as he instead focused on Vincent's contempt-filled words. Really, he was proving that he was no different than the rest of his sordid species no matter how far removed he might've been from them now.

“Competition?” Sephiroth tilted his head as he studied Vincent, his hand dropping slightly. “This miserable worm was never any competition.”

It was ludicrous to think that Hojo posed any real opposition to him now, much less competition. The deranged scientist might've tortured him for years, but Sephiroth was far beyond his grasp now and he was set to become something far greater than Hojo could've ever dreamed of much less accomplished. No, Hojo's death was only for the sake of vengeance and to test Vincent's supposed loyalty, but apparently the gunman thought there was more to it than that.

Humans really did fail to recognize the truth even when it was spoken to them directly.

Sephiroth's thoughts were redirected by Vincent's mention of the contract. As the madman thought Jenova and the ex-Turk had struck some sort of bargain, the contents of which he was still not privy to. Even after subduing Jenova he wasn't able to pry the information she held from her, for she was a selfish creature and guarded her secrets jealously. Perhaps in time Sephiroth could figure out a way to draw the information from her, but as things stood it was like trying to draw blood from a stone and would prove to be just as futile. There was also no mistake in Sephiroth's mind that Jenova would continue to fight him for control as she wasn't one to give up easily.

“You have proven your loyalty as I requested,” he agreed, brilliant emerald eyes practically boring into Vincent's as if searching for something there. “But, I made no contract with you. Whatever deal you struck with Mother is your own, but since you have done me a service I am willing to humor your request.”

Whatever Vincent may have wanted from Jenova the madman could only guess, but he imagined it was something like sparing the man's companions. If that was his request then Vincent would have to take up his grievances with Shinra first as they were the ones that had taken the others in their flight from the Northern Crater. His puppet though, well, he was at the mercy of the Planet's will now and there was little more to be said about that.

“So speak it.”

A normal human would have probably died several times by now. But even for an immortal with inhuman power, the intense journey, paired with the most violent WEAPON syphoning his energy, had rendered the gunslinger utterly drained. Even worse, the skies were burning up, signaling the end of the world, adding to the mental drain.

“Hmph… is that so?”

By this time, Vincent could feel himself reaching his energy limit. He had traveled with Sephiroth for days, barely rested in between before traveling several more days later on, backtracked for most of the distance, and then high-tailed back in almost half the time. All without resting, except for when Chaos forced him to collapse in sheer exhaustion.

Pathetic…

Moving himself to one of the rocky bordered walls, Vincent leaned his head back, allowing himself the luxury to rest for a moment. He would have to find the others soon and catch up to them. However, the one caveat was Jenova. He couldn’t tell if he was still bound to her whims. It was peculiar with the turn of events. While he had expected the planet to be nearing an end, he hadn’t anticipated for Sephiroth to engage in powerplay. Was this Jenova’s will? Or his own? Could he outsmart even Jenova herself?

The skies rumbled, and the clouds began to stir. Vincent could see the subtle hue shift and what looked to be a very bright orange glow attempting to break through the clouds. So this was Meteor… the terror of the entire planet. All created by a single black Materia. Somehow, Sephiroth had grabbed a hold of it. With how unstable Cloud had been lately, Vincent could only assume the events that took place. But did Cloud manage to escape with the others? He could only hope so. If he didn’t… he would never forgive himself.

Just as Vincent’s mind was beginning to drift into a state of slumber, Vincent’s attention was immediately arrested when he felt a dark presence approach him. There in front of him was Sephiroth—or at least Sephiroth’s appearance.

Recognizing the essence to be of Jenova, Vincent furrowed his brow, his crimson eyes scrutinizing the figure before him. He listened in complete silence.  It was only afterwards that a faint scoff escaped his sealed lips. The compliment felt more like mockery.

Without saying another word, Vincent took up the bloody delivery package and sardonically threw it towards the shape-shifter’s feet. The head of Hojo rolled out of the cloth, coming to a stop at Sephiroth’s boots, glazed pallid eyes staring upward into Sephiroth’s face.

Depending on Jenova’s answer, Vincent would attempt ascertain whether or not she had lost control over Sephiroth’s will. Even if there was a good chance she would twist things around, a predator who lost control over their prey was bound to unleash revenge in some capacity.

A blight upon the face of the planet… never to plague the world anymore. How ironic.

“Hojo may be dead. But his work lives on…” The gunslinger narrowed his eyes up at the mako colored pair above him. He didn’t free Sephiroth from the clutches of the past, only. There was more to it than that. If it wasn’t clear before, it certainly was now.

“I merely eradicated your competition. Now, you can reclaim your thrown as the sole calamity upon the world.” Though his voice was measured, his eyes held contempt. He didn’t need Jenova to confirm or deny his words. Hojo had been a nuisance to Jenova, and he had just been a tool to be her hitman as it was most convenient. Sephiroth wanted closure, and a reason to test Vincent’s loyalty. At the same time, Hojo’s obsession with the Jenova project was likely a road-block that Jenova wanted removed. Two birds with one stone.

Eventually, Vincent stood up to his fullest height. Though weighed down by fatigue, he wasn’t going to entertain Jenova any more than he already had.

“The contract,” Vincent pressed, cutting to the chase. He glanced over his shoulder towards the massive barrier where Sephiroth was awakening. “I’ve kept my promise till now. But will you keep yours?” He had protected Sephiroth up to this point and it seemed his job was done.