#but she works in deceased resources...

[humanransome-note]

ya know, well you probably don't, I don't really have an emotional relationship with my own face... i recognize it as mine, but that's a factual recognition, not an emotional one, which is probably why i usually give my character's my features.

in Mary's case, she literally just has my face

to give you an idea of how detached I am from my own face, I only realized I had freckles when I opened up the reference photo and it filled up the program canvas, they're faint, and idk if they'd be more or less obvious with some sun. but i literally didn't know i had freckles

there's probably some psych analysis that can be done with the fact that I made a character that has the only part of my dead name i felt any real identification with, and my face.

with a lot of scaring

there's also something to be said about the fact that i have made another character missing an eye

[mythvoiced]

OPEN STARTER | Boo Yihwa

"New idea: you fuck off or I'll kill you. I hate the way you smell."

[koqabear]

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.  

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal. 

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child. 

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.  

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside. 

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together. 

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with. 

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there. 

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set. 

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves. 

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you. 

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice. 

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile. 

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning. 

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies. 

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can. 

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you. 

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods. 

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching. 

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own. 

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you. 

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly. 

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies. 

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye. 

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out. 

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully. 

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent. 

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket. 

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him. 

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with. 

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in  a feeble way to distract yourself. 

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought. 

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly. 

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion. 

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches. 

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off. 

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point. 

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger. 

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.” 

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed. 

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms. 

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look. 

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely. 

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much. 

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses. 

“I’m here to protect you.” 

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water. 

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart. 

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile. 

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him. 

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown. 

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all. 

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own. 

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long. 

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.” 

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.” 

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man. 

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps. 

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong. 

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home. 

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror. 

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots. 

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse. 

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement. 

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear. 

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them. 

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls. 

“Get out.” 

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu—  to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself. 

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard. 

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it. 

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds. 

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom. 

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face. 

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?” 

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off. 

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly. 

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body. 

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale. 

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end. 

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips— his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you. 

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage. 

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open. 

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him. 

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view. 

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct. 

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill. 

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display. 

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down. 

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you. 

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning. 

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely. 

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.” 

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you. 

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more. 

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.” 

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate. 

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?” 

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation. 

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly. 

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?” 

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight. 

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response. 

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils. 

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly. 

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest. 

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches. 

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles. 

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you. 

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit. 

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection. 

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you. 

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt. 

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations. 

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?” 

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you. 

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight. 

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp. 

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts. 

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence. 

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.” 

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.” 

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.” 

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra: 

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks. 

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.” 

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied. 

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.” 

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt. 

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want. 

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own. 

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly. 

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words. 

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation. 

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck. 

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you. 

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other. 

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough. 

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into. 

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within. 

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

[sepublic]

Odalia’s Plan?

Looking back, I remember people wondering what Odalia thought she could possibly get from helping Belos commit genocide; How can you live like royalty without a society left? I think at face value, Odalia has the snails from the many Abomatons that Belos bought from her, and was planning to revel in that wealth to rule over the survivors. She must’ve thought Belos would spare her from the draining spell for her contribution, maybe she never got a sigil as some suggested. But with the hindsight of S3…

Odalia knows that those who aren’t covenbound will be the true survivors; And that this includes her kids. I presume she thought there would be an exception for her and Alador, on account of helping Belos; Kikimora hoped the same! And speaking of, Odalia was trying to butter up Kikimora and get on her good side on the Day of Unity… But why do that?

Look at what Kikimora did; She took control of a bunch of surviving kids through a manipulated child ruler after the Day of Unity. She leveraged her position as an adult, and didn’t even need to use force despite having Roka, an Abomatron made for her on Odalia’s orders… And Odalia is someone shown to be very good at manipulating kids and even her own husband.

I think Odalia was expecting Belos to do a Kikimora (and Kiki was specifically inspired by him) after the Day of Unity; With almost all adults dead, there’s only a bunch of scared kids left. But Odalia has an army of Abomatons who are unaffected by the draining spell and will obey any order. And there will be a ton of resources and material goods left behind by the deceased for an army to claim. And there would’ve been a factory to produce more Abomatons.

I think Odalia was hinging on establishing a new era with her family right under Belos, and with Kikimora there, Odalia felt it necessary to foster a good working relationship with a fellow commander. Of course, Odalia overestimated how much Belos cared for Kikimora or honoring his own promise with either of them (karma for Escaping Expulsion), because she was devoid of the actual context and motives behind his genocide.

And even though Belos didn’t go through with that, even with the Abomatons no longer in her control or production thanks to Alador’s sabotage, Odalia and Kikimora still attempted that anyhow? The Collector was definitely a huge wrench in everything, but it was a situation Odalia could adapt to, they might actually prove more useful to these plans, rather than an obstacle; Or so she thought!

Because while she seems to have hinged on manipulating yet another child, one far more powerful than Belos ever was, who has the magic to single-handedly rule over the isles, with the puppeted adults replacing and more useful than any Abomatons… The Collector is not impressed with Odalia. She has no leverage, no physical power over them whatsoever. They’re somewhat wary after Belos lied to them, and they have King anyhow; And given King sabotaged Odalia’s plans by helping Alador rebel against her abuse, he would do the same with the Collector (And now I have to imagine Odalia seething over this connection as King casually owns up to it).

Conversely, Kikimora had a lot more success, playing by the old fascist playbook of necessitating tyrannical rule because of an outside threat people need to be strong against, and turning down any plan that would resolve said threat, and thus render her micro-reign without justification.

In short: Odalia thought Kikimora and the Blights would lead an army of Abomatons under Belos to conquer the scattered children who survived the Day of Unity, and groom a new population into their working class. When Belos disappeared and the Collector took his place, Odalia attempted to adapt by replacing Belos with the Collector as someone both stronger and a child she could control (placing herself in top, even better than the original plan!), but instead found herself under someone else’s thumb. She couldn’t even go through with the bit of conquering the isles, not in the way Odalia envisioned it, due to the Collector wanting to play Owl House; Again another sabotage by King!

It is worth noting that Adrian Graye, shortly beforehand, attempted to bind a lot of kids into the coven, including Odalia’s own children; He didn’t know about the genocide and with the coven heads always backstabbing each other, it tracks they don’t communicate with one another on their various operations.

Maybe Odalia passed off Adrian’s attempt because it ultimately failed (though he’s just the first illusionist messing with her plans), but she certainly rooted for his impending death now. And if Belos can make an exception to her, Alador, and Kikimora’s sigils, the same can be said for the kids right! Except Belos can’t make an exception to any sigil, not even his own; Maybe if he’d designed the bindings that way from the start, but of course he was adamant on no exceptions if they could be avoided, and couldn’t imagine anyone being able to place a sigil on him.

And with the Abomatons programmed to keep people from escaping, I can see how Belos had to explain it to Odalia and spin a lie, because she would’ve noticed that suspicious detail, because why would they escape. Why is there a contingency for that, why do you expect them to suddenly want to flee from ‘utopia’ once they see it…???? Alador voices a similar question just from observing and asking why there needs to be so much security in utopia. Who knows, maybe Odalia blackmailed Belos with this knowledge; Thus, the lie, which guaranteed continued shipments of Abomatons to the ritual. Appropriately, Kikimora is relegated to this, as someone in the same knowledgeable yet duped situation.

I’ll also add; In addition to everything else like payoff to Labyrinth Runners’ ending and whatnot, the Hexside subplot in For the Future could also have the benefit of giving proper context to Odalia’s motives and thought process, and thus the entire conflict in Clouds on the Horizon to begin with! And of course set up an Odalia confrontation in the Archives, with her being a much less successful Kikimora.

Again, broken record; But knowing we had a deleted scene with Odalia in the finale and apparently some manner of resolution with her (at the very least an Enemy of my Enemy situation), it really does drive me mad wondering what would’ve happened. The obvious answer is Amity capping off her arc one more time, but I wonder what else would’ve been revealed/clarified, if Odalia would’ve reflected, etc. I really need someone to ask the writers about this!!!!!!

At the very least, this theory makes Odalia seem a lot smarter, adaptable, and opportunistic, with her own agendas even Belos has to work around; Even if she’s still an idiot by the end of the day, like him. It’s a step up from being scared of his Golden Guard and helpless to the regime assimilating Odalia’s company, to Odalia taking advantage of this to guarantee her own survival, somewhat strongarming Belos for just a moment. And it technically works (in a way she didn’t expect), as giving Kikimora the Abomatron allowed her to fly off with Luz to the skull, which led to King following and working with Kikimora to stop the Day of Unity together, which saved Odalia’s life.

So her little investment in Kiki actually paid off there, and Belos using Blight Industries to guarantee the genocide goes as smoothly as possible actually screwed him over; Alador found out and helped bring the kids, particularly King, to the skull where the Collector was. Putting Odalia and Kikimora away in the same spot to prevent their interference led to both supplanting him, technically. Because in the end, Odalia is technically a victim of Belos too, as a child raised in his regime, who was at threat of being betrayed and murdered. So even the worst witches deserve their W here.

[enbycrip]

So given the Rowling stans crawling out of the woodwork to say they are still allies - or worse yet, community members - while still plastering Potter stuff all over their online presence by saying they “separate the art from the artist” after the latest acknowledgment that she is trying to swing Labour in an even more transphobic direction, a short primer on what “death of the author”, which is the origin for that less provocative phrase, actually means.

“Death of the author”, in extreme brief, is an academic construct that was developed at a time when the author as the sole arbiter of meaning in a text was very privileged in the discourse to help people understand that any interpretation of a work is valid *as long as it can be supported by textual evidence*. Your interpretation of a text, as the reader, is as valid as the author’s *if* you can produce just as much, or more, evidence from *within the text itself* that supports your interpretation.

This is particularly useful for students within an academic context.

It is *not* in any sense a reasonable justification to say that one is not *actively supporting* a living artist/author/creator, particularly one who has gained huge cultural influence and financial wealth, by buying and actively promoting their work.

Genuinely, I wouldn’t engage with work from a dead very bigoted artist without acknowledging their bigotry.

If I write about or produce a story set within the Cthulhu Mythos, you had better bet that I am acknowledging Lovecraft’s horrific and pervasive racism and misogyny and the effects of that within the Mythos.

If I write about or do some sketches that acknowledge Degas as an influence, you can bet that I am acknowledging his rampant racism and antisemitism and the fact that his familial wealth which allowed him to have the financial freedom to create the art he did was built on plantation slavery in the Caribbean.

If I write about or paint something with Klimt’s ethereal goldwork as an influence, you can bet I’m writing about his deeply abusive sexual relationships with the women he drew and painted, that he used sapphic eroticism in his work while sexually abusing working class sapphics he paid to model for him, and acknowledging that he had the freedom to produce that work because he got the women in his family to tend to his every whim and perform all his domestic labour for him.

That’s the basic acknowledgment you undertake while engaging with the work of someone deeply bigoted - *even* if they are not directly benefitting from your engagement with their work because they are deceased. The material conditions around how a work is produced and consumed are *always* relevant to that work, because otherwise we miss why, for example, privileged people have the time, resources and cachet to create art and have it be consumed *as* art, while other people never have the resources to do so or have the work they create relegated to categories like “domestic crafts” if it is acknowledged at all.

So just saying “I can separate art from the artist” while financially supporting a living bigot who continues to use your money and the cultural cache you are giving her by doing so to wreak genuine damage on the queer, especially trans, community - that’s basically both completely meaningless and incredibly disingenuous. Particularly when said bigot is *actively* attempting to parlay that financial and cultural influence into making an already very transphobic, racist and disableist political party who are, according to current polls, likely to be running the U.K. shortly, into supporting more actions that *will* materially harm trans people.

[minzart]

How are the miniboss followers doing?

By the time all bishops are revived

Leshy's diciples are all dead

Amdusias lived as the first farmer who actualy knew what he was doing

Valefar was usually a woodman

Barbatos helped around the farm mostly and prayed often, almost getting to be a diciple

Heket's are also gone

Gusion was a master cook, he knew how to make poop look delicious

Eligos was the first menssager and missionary they were efficient and payment was made by resources/food rather than coins

Zepar was the first wife of the Lamb, she had a way to organize the cult and it's buildings like no other, in harsh winters her guidance and helping hand was essencial for survivor

Kallamar's got revived (thank Baalzebub for it)

Saleos ocupayed himself with doctor work

Harborym stayed only because of hope they held to actualy rearange a cup, he was at the end a brawler and picked fights left and right, there were times his fights were more like spars, specially with Baalzebub and even Saleos, becoming akin to a performence

Baalzebub was the cult undertaker, she mostly offered comfort for those who stayed and ungracefully left the corpses of the deceased on the morgue, she never feared death and at times almost seemed devoted to the concept, but her loyalty was never here, and it was felt in her fake devotion and calm smile, for who spreed the grotesque "rumors" of the leader gutting their followers without remorse in their eyes but the one who sees it every night

And Shamura's are also dead but bc they were killed again by the Lamb as the "betrayal" gimmick Shamura pulled mid crusade, if they were to be alive they would be old.

Focalor was the cult seamstress, her knowledge barely passed down for she was a dissenter first and teacher second

Vephar stayed mostly at the bar and only left to kill the Lamb, he failed thousands of time

Hauras was the chillies among their bunch, a bartender most of her time, the fact that they tried to poison the Lamb many times is irrelevant compared to the gorgeous drinks he made

[darkdemeter]

— PREVIEW — THE CONVICT WOLF

Material is featured as a preview/loose prelude for the upcoming project and is subject to potential alterations for narrative purposes.

A/N: just as a word of warning (this will be mentioned in the reader discretion as well) that this series as a whole is intended for 18+ readers due to very strong and sensitive content that will be featured in it, as it takes a more gritty, angsty and darker approach. This preview serves a little more as an introduction to reader and a little bit of a loose prelude before the actual first and “official” column of the series.

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

Depictions of death and gore/violence (description of consumption of human flesh by werewolf) — depictions of graveyard/deceased desecration (grave digging) — dark!reader — strong narrative (adult) language — overall this preview and the series as a whole is intended for 18+ readers!

Enjoy the preview!

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟖 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤

Muddy cobbles slosh beneath the heel of your boots, scuffed from their long and working age. New York, the prize-to-be-metropolis, was no better than Boston - in your professionally critical opinion. For talk of progressive schemes, New York remained the shithole it had always been. The only thing they did only pissed you off: more law. 

But muddy puddles and a law infested nest of humans were the least of your troubles. 

Silently, amidst the shroud of fog, you slide one last bullet into the cylinder of your revolver. The fog parts as you step through it to continue tailing your target. The barking of stray dogs fills the dark and empty streets of New York, a fine indicator that you may have a moment of peace in your hunt. If there was something on this green earth to top the greater nuisance than civilian intervention whilst you worked, you were unconvinced of its existence to prove you wrong. 

Nothing made your fuse burn out faster than folk who didn’t know to not scramble into the way of your path. 

Your eyes take in the shadowed alley you pass through, a hidden filter for scum to flush out into the streets and become inconspicuous with the crowd. That was during the day, however, not at night. That trick of aversion may have worked with petty criminals and the law, but not with you. 

With you, nothing got away.

Something clatters in the distance up ahead and you turn your sights to it. Your bounty was sloppy, not very good at covering his tracks to ensure his survival. It took you no longer than three days to track him down. Of course, your handler had a knack for picking up leads fairly quickly, resources and old debts of favours went a long way when in your time of need. 

You pick up your pace, your bounty well aware they were being followed, your jacket kicked up when a winter breeze breathed down the throat of the dimly lit street. 

The bottom of your long, dark coat kicks up as you surge forward with purpose, hand bearing one of your firearms as the other pulls the second twin from its holster. You have him cornered now. 

You come to slow down at the end of the short strip next to the occupying building. Some wealthy man’s brick estate no doubt. Sheets of white obscure most of the way, hanging from the wash lines above, but you could make out his silhouette. A large, towering and muscular physique covered in coarse fur. His tail sits in the mud to only further his savage and beastly appearance, ears folded back as his maw ripped into whatever meal he found. A maid. 

Blood covered her from chin to chest. Her throat torn out but she remains on the cusp of life with shredded vocal cords whimpering in her demise. 

She is beyond saving. You’d learnt that much long ago. 

Through her lidded eyes she sees you and her blood covered hand stretches out. Your eyes move down the wet crimson fingers to her pleading, fading eyes in the dark before they land on the beast engrossed in his meal to know the danger behind him. At first.

With a final plea for help, she tries to scream for you until she grows quiet completely in his arms. He becomes still and the fur along his back and shoulders bristle, ears perked up in awareness. Now he knows. Slowly he turns his large head to stare at you with blaring, amber eyes that intend to scorn you for your intrusion. You match his stare with as much disdain as he. 

“I smell your past sins, vânător de rude.” He points at you with an accusing, claw tipped finger. “You have no jurisdiction to judge me.” 

Your shoulders move up in a shrugging motion. “If only those words actually meant something to me.”

Your arms swiftly have risen up as the hammers flick to unlock the safe fire. The barrels of your twin revolvers blink white as you take the shot. The cracking of bullets meeting muscle and flesh is enough evidence to prove you hit him, blood splatters bleeding into the murky puddles and onto the street. 

With a grunt you push yourself up from the dirt and pursue him over steel enforced fences and more white sheets left to air out. They only serve as canvases to a blood smeared trail of your quarry. 

New York had made its progression into the modern world. From landscape and brick buildings, the city excelled more than a few schematics; onward and upward they always say. To this day that same nuisance stuck with you. Civilians and a plethora of them swarmed the streets alongside the line up of traffic. Busy. 

New York is constantly busy. And it tends to make your work harder to conceal when your targets flee into the open. Finding them within the crowd is never really the problem, but it’s the excessive bodies that don’t know to stay out of your way. 

Your bounty is simple, dare you say it, cliché it feels. You’ve played this narrative time and time again. This dance of execution one they try to escape by treading on your toes and running only to have you loop them back into the waltz of the hunt. 

Countless times you’ve seen the eyes of your prey widen when they realise there is no escape. 

You don’t get yourselves involved in the sob stories of the client or intended quarry, you were after the money that keeps you in that safe spot. All you dug up on your target is that they’re an ex-Hydra agent gone down the path of righteousness and betterment. Someone who finds peace in the work they’re involved in, cares for the people around them. A real advocate for being a humble hero. 

‘Alright.’

They venture down the stairs into the subways below. Oh, this is going to be a treat, you’re sure of it. A tight spot. Many witnesses. Hands clenching at your sides as you swagger after them, people knew to avoid bumping into you. Hidden beneath the thick layer of your coat, the one you’ve worn all this time, were your holstered twins. New York is unaware for the time being. 

Give it time, they would know. Your eyes of scarlet red would be plastered all over and your visage identified as the nightmare parchment and ink always captured you to be. Give it some time and it would be all over the news: The Convict Wolf strikes again. 

“Six bodies,” you grunt with a heave of the shovel. Your handler is quick to duck out of the way, a gas lantern in her grasp illuminating you several feet in the resting place of a half eaten merchant. Not even three days cold in his grave and the fiend had taken to him like flies on shit. 

Your handler’s other hand presses a clean, bright yellow handkerchief to her nose. But the smell filtered through given the glassy fog in her eyes. The smell of death rendered her weak in the gut and in constant battle with the bile that climbed her throat for release. 

“Wh-what does th-this mean?” She coughs into her handkerchief, bile and spittle at the edge of her tongue, you were sure of it. You shake your head rigorously akin to a dog shaking off water. Dirt falls from your hair in small forms of clouds. Your eyes find your handler’s uncertain gaze as she stares down at you; unnerved by the calmness you exude whilst standing in a grave. 

Any passers-by would suspect nefarious acts against the dead. Grave robbers and worse. 

“It means, my dear handler, that he is probably desperate for food and is too shy to make a move on living humans.” You hoist yourself up with a deep grunt, your handler bows down to loop a hand around the crook in your arm to pull. “Will he…” 

You hear your handler gulp the remainder of her sentence. You raise your brows in a knowing fashion. “It’s only a matter of time. Dead flesh doesn’t satisfy the shy for long.”

“Then we must hurry,” she says with great urgency to rid the city of this parasite. You pull something from a pouch on your belt. You hold the small box up in offering to your handler who only shakes her head fervently in horror. You shrug with a huff. “Suit yourself.”

You and your handler glance down at the corpse as you raise the flame-tipped match to burn the end of your cigarette. A father of two and husband to a meek, gentle tailor. The same one who’d fixed up the patches in your coat just a day ago. 

If only he could have afforded to be buried in the mausoleum. 

The lighting is shoddy at best down below in the subway, the mechanic hissing and howl of the train fast approaching indicates that you have maybe a minute at most to locate them. With a shallow breath you inhale their scent. 

Kin. 

It seems your nature as a hunter of your own never outgrew you. 

‘Is this a nasty habit?’

You don’t let it eat away at your conscience. You have a job to do and a client to satisfy. They’re waiting on the platform, hands tucked into the pockets of their jacket and chin forced down. You knew that scent that rolled along the back of your tongue with another inhale. 

Fear. 

Their heart rate picks up as you make to move after them just as the train rolls to a stop and the doors open. Your shoulders move in tandem with the power of your strut. Focus on your target leaves little regard to the rest of the world around you. Oftentimes you have shoved others aside, stopped traffic to downright mauling interlopers who had no right to involve themselves in your affairs; but thought themselves the hero. 

How well that turned out for them, their next of kin and nosey investigators could ask the medical records or the tombstones. 

They board the train in a hurry with the crowd around them. They won’t lose you that quickly. As you head for one of the doors down the train cart to avoid giving away your position, you bump into something. 

“Watch it,” you growl lowly as your arm sweeps around her waist to catch her against you before she is knocked off balance. 

She’s smaller than you. Dressed in a baggy, tan coloured zip up jacket and dark blue skinny jeans. Her hair is brushed back and her eyes take a moment to look at you from under the black cap. 

“Sorry, I–” You’ve already let her go. You don’t give her the chance to memorise your features to use as a testimony against you when your next killing goes public. You dare to peek over your shoulder at her, catching her eyes as she stares at you. The doors close behind you just in time as you board the train. 

With a roll of your eyes, you discard the clumsy girl to the back of your mind. Your eyes wander down the narrow path of the train cart. There they were. Your target. Another wolf. You always charge extra for these bounties. 

Their nervous eyes meet yours and the corner of your lips quirk up. The scent of their fear pollutes the train, it masks over the humans. Unaware, unsuspecting humans. You reach a hand to unholster one of your revolvers, thumb caressing the hammer as you calculate the right moment. 

Mother Nature had always been just as cruel as she was kind. Even to her finest killers. It was the beauty of her, really. 

In the world your kind lives in, a chain of command exists. Even if it will further taint your already sullied name, all will know it. That clumsy girl with the bright green eyes whose smaller body you held pinned against your solid front. She will know your sullied name.

The Convict Wolf strikes again.

You think about that girl again and you see eyes once filled with fear turn to anger. They glow a bright scarlet, just as yours do. As they always do. There was no use hiding what you really were. 

Because in the world werewolves live in, there is a hierarchy; and you’ve always preferred to be on top. 

(◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

[oiblackestsheep]

MBTI Hunger Games Simulation

Gonna throwback to the 2010's (shudders) (skip to bottom of post if you just want the stats and the ending/ultimate betrayal lmao)

There are eight teams of two, all of which were chosen randomly by spinning the ✨Wheel of Fate✨ Before we see how this game goes, let's take a look at the teams determined by nothing other than DESTINY and place your bets.

District 1: ISTP x ENFJ

Opposites attract, maybe? Could compliment each other well, but there could be some infighting. I'd bet on it.

District 2: INFP x ESFP

...Not a very goal driven bunch, are they? If they win... it'll be dumb luck. With style, of course! They'll be interesting to watch, nonetheless. Bet against.

District 3: ENFP x INTP

Lmao, okay, do they even want to win? That's a lot of Ne for one team. They might have better luck actually breaking out of the arena itself, instead! Bet against.

District 4: ISFP x ENTP

Interesting take... it's not what I think of when I think "winner", but honestly? I think they could pull it together in their own way. Sure, why not! Bet on.

District 5: ESTP x INFJ

This one feels like a practical joke lmao. I'm gonna say most likely to split up and do their own things. Bet against.

District 6: ISTJ x ESTJ

I'd say they're probably the scariest team on the list, I would watch out for that. It almost feels kind of unfair that they got paired up? Kinda wanna see them meet their maker. Bet against.

District 7: INTJ x ESFJ

Now these guys seem like unlikely friends, actually. I think they'll discover that they unexpectly work well together, keeping a balanced team! Bet on.

District 8: ISFJ x ENTJ

So close to the other team, but for me, no cigar. I think there's going to be power struggles and opposing priorities. Second team to split up. Bet against.

With all of that said, let's see what happens when the game starts!

Bloodbath

ENFJ convinces ISFP to not kill him only to kill her instead.

ENTJ attacks ESFP but ESTP protects her killing ENTJ.

ESFJ stays at the cornucopia for resources.

ENTP takes a handful of throwing knives from the ground and retreats.

INTJ finds a bow and some arrows.

ENFP finds a bag full of food.

INFJ takes a handful of throwing knives from the ground and retreats.

ESTJ takes a couple explosives from near the cornucopia.

ISTJ takes a handful of throwing knives from the ground and retreats.

INFP dashes to the forest to avoid the bloodbath.

INTP grabs a sword.

ISFJ runs away with a sword and some rope.

ISTP scores a bar mace from inside the cornucopia.

Total Kills ENFJ: 1 ESTP: 1

Deceased Tally ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Day 1

ESFP in a cruel fate, asks ISFJ to kill INFJ or ESTP. She decides to kill INFJ.

INTP fishes in the water for some food.

INTJ discovers a water source.

INFP, ENTP, and ESFJ hunt for other tributes.

ISTP begs for ENFP to kill him. She refuses, keeping ISTP alive.

ISTJ thinks about his family and starts crying.

ENFJ receives a water spile from a sponsor.

ESTJ receives a water spile from a sponsor.

Total Kills ENFJ: 1 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1

Deceased Tally INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Night 1

INTP bashes ENTP's head in with a mace.

ESTJ convinces ENFJ to snuggle with her for the night.

INTJ tries to sing himself to sleep.

ESFJ and INFP hold hands and cry together.

ISFJ huddles up next to a fire and cooks the meat she hunted earlier in the day.

ESFP, ENFP, and ESTP sing songs together, hoping for the best.

ISTJ and ISTP fall asleep holding hands.

Total Kills ENFJ: 1 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 INTP: 1

Deceased Tally ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Day 2

ESTJ accidentally walks over a land mine.

ESTP hides in a bush, terrified and scared.

INTJ, ESFJ, and ENFP hunt for other tributes.

INTP, ESFP, ISTJ, and ENFJ raid INFP's camp while she is away.

ISFJ tends to ISTP's wounds.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 1 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 INTP: 1

Deceased Tally ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Night 2

ENFP is stabbed in her sleep by ENFJ.

ESFP lets INFP into her campsite.

INTJ leaves ISFJ, ESTP, and ISTP because he does not like their plan to kill more people.

INTP tries to sing herself to sleep.

ESFJ falls asleep shivering from a fever.

ISTJ begins to cry.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 INTP: 1

Deceased Tally ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Day 3

ISTP overwhelmed with anger, bashes ESTP's head against a rock several times.

ENFJ scares ESFP off into the distance.

INTJ and INFP create a fort out of sticks and leaves.

INTP chases ISFJ.

ISTJ receives healing ointment from a sponsor.

ESFJ discovers a hidden pathway.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 INTP: 1 ISTP: 1

Deceased Tally ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Night 3

INTP chases ESFJ for over a mile before making the kill.

INTJ starts a campfire with materials on the ground.

ENFJ thinks about his family.

ISTJ falls alseep to the sound of people screaming.

INFP convinces ISFJ to stand guard for the night while she sleeps.

ESFP receives a hatchet and water from an unknown sponsor.

ISTP sleeps in small increments, awaking to every little noise.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1

Deceased Tally ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Day 4

ESFP severely wounds ISTJ and leaves him to die.

ISTP sings a song while searching for a food source. He finally finds some wild berries.

INFP runs away from ISFJ.

ENFJ discovers a hidden pathway.

INTP has a mild panic attack.

INTJ makes a wooden spear from tree branches.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 ESFP: 1

Deceased Tally ISTJ (day 4) ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Night 4

ESFP sets fire to ISTP's fort, burning him alive.

ISFJ is unable to start a fire and is extremely uncomfortable.

INTP, ENFJ, and INFP sleep in shifts, each hoping the other two do not betray them.

INTJ receives an iPad from an unknown sponsor.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 ESFP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1

Deceased Tally ISTP (night 4) ISTJ (day 4) ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Day 5

After hearing footsteps, INFP catches ESFP from behind guard and kills her.

INTJ dreams about home back at his district.

INTP and ISFJ create an alliance.

ENFJ tries to sleep in order to reduce stress.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 ESFP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 INFP: 1

Deceased Tally ESFP (day 5) ISTP (night 4) ISTJ (day 4) ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Night 5

ISFJ slips on a frozen river and drowns.

INTJ, INFP, INTP, and ENFJ sleep in shifts, trying to protect each other.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 ESFP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1 INFP: 1

Deceased Tally ISFJ (night 5) ESFP (day 5) ISTP (night 4) ISTJ (day 4) ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Day 6

INTJ bleeds out from a wound left mildly treated.

After hearing footsteps, INFP catches INTP from behind guard and kills her.

ENFJ injures himself tripping over a log.

Kills Tally ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 INFP: 2 ESFP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1

Deceased Tally INTJ (day 6) INTP (day 6) ISFJ (night 5) ESFP (day 5) ISTP (night 4) ISTJ (day 4) ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

Night 6

ENFJ tends to INFP's wounds.

Day 7

INFP chucks a spiked ball into ENFJ's chest.

Kills Tally INFP: 3 ENFJ: 2 INTP: 2 ESFP: 2 ESTP: 1 ISFJ: 1

Deceased Tally ENFJ (day 7) INTJ (day 6) INTP (day 6) ISFJ (night 5) ESFP (day 5) ISTP (night 4) ISTJ (day 4) ESFJ (night 3) ESTP (day 3) ENFP (night 2) ESTJ (day 2) ENTP (night 1) INFJ (day 1) ISFP (bloodbath) ENTJ (bloodbath)

1st Place: INFP (3 kills)

2nd Place: ENFJ (2 kills)

3rd Place: INTP (2 kills)

Honorable Mention: INTJ (0 kills, lasted until day 6!)

[worldruins]

It's bib time baybee

Blessings In Bloodshed (a self-given name, though not far from the original) is a reserved but stubborn iterator. They've made easing the pains and ailments of their own kind their life's work- or rather, the work of their second.. and third.. chances at life.

Built right around the time of the Great Equalizer, she was originally made to preserve and elevate an old pilgrimage site that would have been lost to the floods and changing landscape. It's a similar situation to the True Anointed Citadel, but BIB's monks were considerably more welcoming to them, and much of the original construction as well as many sacred artifacts were successfully disassembled and relocated to a new home atop the superstructure. Blessings was regularly in contact with the mortal sick and dying, and took on the role of endorsing a freshly-deceased individual's safe and fortunate passage to the next cycle. Even when he no longer does that sort of work, Blessings remains personally spiritual. He believes in the void as a conscious force acting upon the world, a benevolent but mercurial actor in the great forces of the universe.

BIB shares a group with True Accord, Uncast Shadows, Six Stunned Silences and (unofficially) Twelve Bound Hands. They consider all their groupmates siblings; TA and US are older than them, SSS and TBH are younger. The five of them have grown closer over time, connected by circumstance, need and the desire for family. That was not the case back when the creators of the iterators left their creations behind, and Blessings found herself profoundly alone. They were distraught, and felt that they had failed in their duties to their people. They tried to focus on their work, on the Big Problem they had been created for, but found themself unable to cope with the frustration and failures that felt more humiliating every time. Their chosen path forward was bioengineering, and they did grow skilled at working with biological materials, though they hardly felt accomplished.

Blessings In Bloodshed did not tell his groupmates when he decided to turn some of his resources towards figuring out how to destroy himself. She did not think she'd be able to ascend, or even to reverse their creators' very thorough work ensuring true death would not come for iterators like her. They just had to get close enough. They made a few attempts, none of them successful, all of them leaving a different sort of damage (physical or otherwise) behind. He might have been desperate, but when the rot came as a result of their final attempt at self-elimination, it was not welcomed. The despondent BIB finally reopened communications with the group to warn them of her condition. The disease was highly aggressive, and he predicted he only had some tens of thousands of days left before her structural integrity would fail.

With help from her group, Blessings survived the illness, though not before it had claimed more than half her structure- half her body, half her mind. He was surprised by the concern he received alongside the frustration that she hadn't reached out earlier. Their siblings- the iterators they would come to consider siblings- had been concerned and were now shocked by the state of their mild-mannered neighbor. They were a reason for Blessings to keep fighting. In the end, it was her own work that proved fruitful in treating and finally curing their own case of rot. That didn't mean reversing the damage, though- only that the cysts were dead and wouldn't spread or pose an active risk. It left him covered in scars, pockmarked metal and components rendered useless. Repairing themself involved creating organisms and constructs to carve them back into their original shape and break the dead rot back down into the materials they need.

Blessings had always been interested in medicine. It was not what her creators and residents asked of her, so her attention had never been devoted to it as a younger iterator. At most, they idly considered examining and treating mortals ("mortals" being the respectful name for the people who built iterators as a whole, in comparison to their towering creations), allowing the daydream some space in the back of their mind. He considered it something of a bitter irony when he wound up caring for himself in his own severe illness. Once the rot was under control and BIB had some space to breathe, though, they couldn't help wondering how effectively an iterator could act as a physician to other iterators. With their preexisting knowledge and everything they learned trying to save their own life, they were the best equipped to address their own group's ailments, from True Accord's widespread rust to Twelve Bound Hands, an illicit construction, literally falling apart. As their skills and confidence grew, they started looking outside their local group. They know the fate of their kind is inevitable, but their hope is to minimize suffering and stop other iterators from becoming insensate or nonfunctional before they're ready to be. It's a difficult, sometimes insurmountable task and their scope is very limited. That's not stopping them from trying.

BIB would never be the same as they were before their illness, and they're not really trying to be. He's forgetful, and easily baited. They were always something of a bleeding heart- pun intended-even more so after the rot. Their chosen "job" comes as a surprise with how sensitive they can be, but their friends know them as The Doc all the same.

The cracks all across Blessings' puppet aren't from the rot and they aren't self-inflicted- not really. But that's a whole other story. Thank you for reading about my bibby <3

[theeccentricraven]

Gail Carson Levine’s Character Profile Tag Game

Hey everyone 😊😎

Lately I've been reading Gail Carson Levine's "Writing Magic" a hugely helpful resource for aspiring authors. I especially liked her character sheet template.

Rules: Copy and paste the template, fill it out for one or more of your OC's, then post your OC's and the blank template for others to copy and paste.

Name:

Nickname:

Kind of being:

Age:

Sex:

Appearance

Occupation:

Family Members:

Pets:

Best friend:

Describe his/her room:

Way of Speaking:

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): 

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse:

Hobbies:

Favorite sports:

Talents, abilities, or powers:

Relationships (how he/she is with other people):

Fears:

Faults:

Good points:

What he/she wants more than anything else:

Here's the profiles of some of my MC's:

The Blood Cleaners

Name: Justin South 4th Tunnel

Nickname: Jus

Kind of being: Human tunneler

Age: 16

Sex: Male

Appearance: Light brown skin, dark spikey hair, long jaw, short chin

Occupation: Street Cleaner, becomes a Blood Cleaner

Family Members: Elena, Miriam, the late Deirdre, his deceased birth mother and birth father

Pets: Feral orange cats Cameo and Lucky who hunt the mice

Best friend: None until Joselyn

Describe his/her room: metal frame bed, cotton and wool sheets and blankets, hand-me down wooden desk, childhood drawings, closet of work clothes, dresser of work clothes, DVD player

Way of Speaking: Standard tenor sounding voice, sarcastic, jokester 

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): stands upright, lounges when sitting or lying down, walks around with a tough attitude look, looks hostile toward others

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse: a knife

Hobbies: hanging out at public places, wrestling, reading, watching movies, lifting weights

Favorite sports: Wrestling, racing

Talents, abilities, or powers: Able to speak to objects and move them, also obtains the blood cleaner powers

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): He gets on well with his mother and sister, though they have strong disagreements. He’s nicer with Joselyn than he is with most anyone else. He feels his peers are against him and distances himself from them. 

Fears: Being poor, losing his family, losing dignity

Faults: Temper, self-centered

Good points: Selfless, motivational, compassionate

What he/she wants more than anything else: To be a blood cleaner and own a house on the Mount

Name: Joselyn East Second Quarter

Nickname: Jos

Kind of being: Human surfacer

Age: 16

Sex: Female

Appearance: Long flowing black hair, dark brown eyes, light brown skin, tall, long chin

Occupation: Farmer, Blood Cleaner

Family Members: Papá Jorge, Mamá Jennifer, Sisters Esperanza, Selena, and Alina

Pets: Pancho the Golden Retriever

Best friend: None but Justin

Describe his/her room: Colors of orange, red, and yellow; shelves of colorful rocks, desk with flowers in vases

Way of Speaking: Speaks English and Spanish, primarily Spanish, low toned voice

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): strands straight, likes to touch, fluctuates from tough girl to meek girl

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse: Her doll Gatita, spare clothes, letters from her Abuelita

Hobbies: Played with dolls as a little girl, wading in water or swimming, reading, watching movies

Favorite sports: Baseball

Talents, abilities, or powers: Talented in cooking, strong in emotions, learns blood cleaner powers

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): Avoids her parents, loving to her sisters, closest to Justin, tries to be welcoming with peers

Fears: Losing her sisters, falling victim to abuse

Faults: Lacking self-confidence, overly emotional, stubborn

Good points: Brave, kind, caring, compassionate, more competent than she realizes

What he/she wants more than anything else: Be competent and free

Sanctuary Calling

Name: Nari Choi

Nickname: none

Kind of being: human, Korean from 758th District on Mars

Age: 14

Sex: female

Appearance: She wears clothes made from the futuristic synthetic material called reponere pallio created in Marian labs; she stands 5’4’’, her clothes are blue and styles after the style of traditional Korean clothes

Occupation: Student about to graduate early 

Family Members: Her mother Gyeong and father Dae-Jung

Pets: betta fish named Po

Best friend: Soo (but they’ve grown apart)

Describe his/her room: twin sized bed neatly made, sheets with patterns of shapes, blankets with Korean art, a desk with a reponere pallio chair, a nightstand with her smart watch, a computer on her desk, lights on the ceiling, Korean art decorating her room, white carpet

Way of Speaking: not too fast, not too slow, pronounces cleanly, medium tone, speaks Korean and English 

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): She keeps upright while spending time on her work, but is loose and relaxed when she’s free, she uses many Korean gestures such as the thank you symbol by snapping fingers

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse: Backpack contains booklet on handcraft airplane building and operating, her studentware - a computer for everything that students need including thousands of textbooks, her apron for when she's in the shop, backup clothes

Hobbies: Making handcrafted airplanes, fixing things, carpentry, solving math equations 

Favorite sports: soccer

Talents, abilities, or powers: High IQ

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): Nari loves her mother and father, but they constantly pressure her to follow the path they believe is best for her, Soo was her best friend until Soo didn’t like the things that Nari liked and they grew too different

Fears: She will be forced to follow the path her parents want, she will lose her future

Faults: Too much of a perfectionist, overconfident, too dependent on tech

Good points: humble, kind, always wants to improve

What he/she wants more than anything else: Work fulltime building things and fixing things

Name: Abraham Miller

Nickname: Abe

Kind of being: Human, Amish from Ohio

Age: 15

Sex: Male

Appearance: 5’5’’, has blue eyes, short brown hair, long chin, long nose, wears big straw hat, blue shirt, trousers and suspenders

Occupation: farmboy

Family Members: Father Obadiah, Mother Anna, sister Rebecca, sister Rachel, brother Ezekial, brother Jeremiah, sister Ruth

Pets: horses, dogs, cats, cattle

Best friend: John Schumaker 

Describe his/her room: two beds for him and his brothers, chamber pot in a corner, bowl and vase for cleaning on one desk, closet with clothes for a farmboy

Way of Speaking: Has a lisp, he speaks Amish, slow with words, sweet tenor voice

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): gentle, meek, passive, a little clumsy with his long legs and growing hands

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse: coins for buying candy

Hobbies: ride horses, play softball, do things with best friend, hunt in the woods

Favorite sports: Softball

Talents, abilities, or powers: calms animals 

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): gets along well with his parents and sisters, but tension arises when he wants a different life than them, his friend John is his comrade

Fears: Dying young from disease or animals, losing family, never fulfilling dreams 

Faults: He can be too emotional and insecure

Good points: He is kind to everyone

What he/she wants more than anything else: Live an adventure

Tagging (no pressure): @kaylinalexanderbooks @buffythevampirelover @willtheweaver @poethill @tilldeathdousart @rickie-the-storyteller @somethingclevermahogony @selenekallanwriter @winterandwords @happypup-kitcat24 and open!

[miqojak]

B A S I C S

(Much of this - and more - can be found on her carrd!)

Name: J'kesri Denma - Goes by Jak, her tribal name is known to maybe a total of 3 people? And only one of them is allowed use of it in private.

Nicknames: 'The Dragon', Jackal (the name she went by as a thief on the streets of Ul'dah), Ember (former), Empress Ember (former), Little Robin

Age: 27ish, give or take a year - she's not sure exactly. I've been aging her...once each real life year since 2019 (when I said she was 22ish, give or take some), but she's always just had a sort of estimate on her age.

Nameday: She has no idea!

( I do like to think that she's a Scorpio in our real world Western Zodiac - which I don't know how to translate to Eorzean dates - and a Dragon, like me, in the Eastern zodiac.)

Race: Miqo'te, Seeker of the Sun

Gender: Female

Orientation: I'd say she's over all Graysexual, maybe some degree of Demi or Sapiosexual? The perfect storm has to happen for her to want any sort of intimate relationship... even friendship is hard to manage (she very genuinely seeks out intelligent/clever people to have around her), but a true relationship that's 'romantic' or sexual? Well, the perfect combination of events accidentally happened once. But gender has never really entered into it? She just so happens to have attracted and ended up with men in RP! She was/is poly as well, but has agreed to be monosexual with her current partner!

Profession: Restaurant Manager/Owner, Jazz Club Owner/Manager, Tattoo Artist (by appointment, not widely known)

Not publicly known: Criminal (it's a broad umbrella, but her activities outside of the Yakuza are often no less devious than within), Yakuza leadership (Wakagashira/second in command, current acting head of the family while the Oyabun is on indefinite hiatus), Cat burglar! She's very Selena Kyle - her goal is to do more burglary around Ul'dah to screw over the wealthy elite...and maybe actually do some good for people like her, barely scraping by in the gutters, forgotten by society.

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Black/Orange - most often slicked back and partially braided, partially tied into a tight ponytail. When relaxed/at home she may opt not to do all the work to tame her hair to look more 'coiffed' as she does in public, and it is about shoulder length, and quite curly!

Eyes: Gold/Green

Skin: Olive/light brown, gold undertones

Tattoos/scars:

-Scars: One small slash at each cheek, one across the bridge of her nose. Levin/lightning scarring in bursts at both shoulders and biceps. A long, ragged scar spanning the length of her back, from the inside of the left side of her neck, to the top of her right buttock.

-Tattoos: Black dragon that winds up the right half of her body. Jackal on her left forearm. 3 Phoenix down feathers on her right wrist. A watercolor robin tattooed just under her left breast, along her ribs.

F A M I L Y

Parents: Deceased, slain by Garlemald in Gyr Abania

Siblings: The only one left alive is her twin brother, J'vynia/Vynnie, @miqo-vynnie, who no longer plays...and she kinda wrote Vynnie out of her life after some things she saw as huge betrayals. She talks shit, but she's been off-kilter ever since he left her life! They had a very Yin/Yang dynamic... where Jak was actually more of the Yang/masculine side of things that's very active... and now missing that more passive and down to earth aspect of Yin? She's been really out of control for a long time. Luckily, the lover she never expected to have has done a good job of grounding her.

Grandparents: Unknown.

In-laws and Other: None.

Pets: She doesn't do pets. As much as I like animals... Jak grew up tribal and sees animals as food, and find the concept of a beast in her home dirty and a waste of resources and time. (And one more thing she could get attached to and lose!) Fun fact: She doesn't like any sort of large bird, and they're one of the few things that actively frighten her! This includes things like Griffons, and Chocobos... those big, yellow birds have murder in their eyes... better to eat them, before they eat you.

S K I L L S

Abilities: Keen eyesight and incredibly sensitive hearing; can play piano by ear; martial arts; prefers (non-lethal) poisoned throwing knives/staying at range; when equipped with her DRK soul crystal, her skillset vastly expands - altering her fighting style entirely, and emboldening her with the knowledge that she can now both inflict - and sustain - more damage in close combat.

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Diligent/honest - often too honest. She takes even her positive qualities to extremes, and works out too hard, spends too much time trying to excel as a Wakagashira in the Yakuza who is a woman... and she sets extremely high goals for herself and others...which leads into her negative traits.

Most Negative Trait: Judgemental/applies high standards to others. She has a twisted set of standards that makes sense to her, and likely not to many others, most of these rooted in years of trauma - but her high goals were intended to be a good thing. Even for others...she simply pushes both herself, and others (especially if she LIKES you) too hard, more often than not. She believes in constantly bettering oneself, and... she's a creature of extremes. It's hard for her to know when it's too much/she's asking too much...of anyone, to include herself.

L I K E S

Colors: Gold/white, red/black

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Moko only, these days, to relax now and then.

Drugs: Former somnus addict - she's worked hard to beat this addiction...and continues to, because addiction is a lifelong curse even once you're clean! But she doesn't like anyone or anything having control over her - and an addiction controls your life more than any other person could! (Plus it's a way that other people COULD control you, in her mind. All the more reason to have dropped the habit.)

Alcohol: She used to be a bit of an alcoholic, on top of a drug addict - she's had a lot of impetus and encouragement to get her shit together...and has! She drinks recreationally/to relax, but takes it easier these days... you're easier to take advantage of, and more likely to say or do things you shouldn't, when drunk...and she likes to be in control!

Been Arrested: Not yet! She's run from the Blades in Ul'dah more than once...but it's not a crime if you don't get caught, right??

Tagged by: @chadhunkler ! Sorry it took me a bit to find the spoons, but thank you for thinking of me! I do love to do little things like this...and should do this for my Male Miqo and my kitsune to better flesh them out, honestly...

Tagging - some people in my notifs, and anyone who hasn't done it/wants to! @uldahstreetrat, @lightyouarelikes (for whoever you want to do it for), @wpip-raham, @xmimiteh, @twelvesblades (if you want to do it!), @briar-ffxiv , @shieldandarrow , @captainqster

(I'm trying to fight the uphill battle against my depressive apathy/malaise... I know deep down I want to be active and meet people and RP and take part in things!! So thanks for tagging me and interacting, folks!)

[the-unknown-void]

Murder Drones? Half-Life? More likely than you think. (MDxHL2 AU)

So I don't kill my brain trying to come up with summary to this AU. I'm just going to tell you about the characters here, note that nothing is solid yet but I am going crazy for this AU, I'll most definitely change things. So consider this a bit of a W.I.P.

A while ago I had thought, I was originally thinking about Portal/MD AUs because well funni robot go brrr. But there's about a million ways you could do that and there's likely plenty out there already.

But.. how many would realize how fitting Murder Drones is with Half-Life 2!?

I mean..

Inter-dimensional fascist alien military government that takes over worlds in order to siphon its resources and kill off all the native fauna in the process?

with all the biomechanical stuff going on, you could easily shove disassembly drones in their place!

and that's where it began.

this ended up a bit longer than expected and may still be edited many times lol.

Welcome, welcome to City 9, one of our finest urban centers on Copper 17!

~ Citizens ~

Any worker drone that is not part of the resistance, and is not conscripted into the Combine. Live openly in the city under the harsh rule of the Combine, disassembly drones watching their every step, scanning for even the slightest sign of disobedience.

~ The Combine ~

Disassembly drones, basically. Except for metropolice who are worker drones who choose to work for them.

They still have most of the canonical built-in weapons like claws, SMGs, blades, missiles, and B E A M. All drones converted into DDs have their memories wiped entirely. Special exceptions to this are J, V, and N, who still have their memories but they are suppressed.

Serial Designation J - puppet Leader - Role: Dr. Breen Taking orders from Cyn, she acts like a sergeant. But she isn't really designed for fighting as much, she mostly spends time in the Citadel unless something (such as a massive uprising) is threatening the Citadel and Combine control, in which she will come down and strike down anyone who opposes them in nearly an instant.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly Drone Stuff (Some listed weapons may be built-in) - Revolver - Grenades - Tau Cannon - Laser tripmines

Serial Designation N - Elite of Combine Air Defense He follows/leads hunter choppers or he can pilot hunter choppers. He is specifically designed for long flights and in-flight combat.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly Drone Stuff (Some listed weapons may be built-in) - Pulse Rifle - Can deploy manhacks

Serial Designation V - Soldier of Combine Land Defense She guards the borders of Combine territories, making sure no unwelcome creatures from the outlands get inside. Also sometimes deployed to guard places like Nova Prospekt. She is still able to fly but not for as long as N, as she's mainly designed for being able to traverse various terrain. She can also drive APCs, set up mounted guns and turrets.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly Drone Stuff (Some listed weapons may be built-in) - Shotgun - Crossbow - Grenades - Hoppers - Can deploy roller mines

~ The Resistance ~

Worker drones who have decided to rebel against the Combine, refusing to submit to their abuse. However, since the death of their previous leader, Nori Doorman, their movement has been dormant. As Khan decided that everyone should go into hiding in the bunker for the sake of their daughter(him and Nori's).

Yeva - Deceased Was almost just as important to the resistance as Nori, playing a large role in getting them out of the city. Unfortunately she was killed by V along with her husband not long after the uprising fell.

Weapons/Tools: - Absolute Solver powers - Revolver - Pulse Rifle - Can hack roller mines

Nori Doorman - Former Leader(dead?) - Role: Gordon Freeman? The initial starter of the resistance movement, which actually got pretty far. But all her ruckus alerted J to the scene, killing Nori and many of those by her side just before they could make their final push against the Combine. At least she's dead to everyone's knowledge..

Weapons/Tools: - Absolute Solver powers - SMG (an uzi lol) - Crowbar - S.L.A.Ms

Khan Doorman - Current Leader - Role: Eli Vance After Nori's death, he decided it was best to go into hiding with his daughter, fearing the Combine would begin hunting for them even more aggressively than they did before.

Weapons/Tools: - Wrench - Pistol - Shotgun

Uzi Doorman - Role: Alyx Vance + Gordon Freeman? Infuriated by her father’s cowardice for stalling the resistance movement, believing it nullifies everything her mother worked for. She decides to take it upon herself to finish the job her mother started, sneaking out of the bunker and eventually leading the next uprising. Can drive the airboat.

Weapons/Tools: - Crowbar (same one as Nori’s) - Railgun (The one from the show) - Alyx’s gun (Modified Pistol) - RPG (Rocket Launcher) - Gravity Gun - S.L.A.Ms - EMP Tool - Absolute Solver powers (acquired much later)

Thad - Metrocop - Role: Barney Calhoun He’s another metrocop but he’s not in on Doll’s scheme. He’s just a metrocop for spying and it’s useful to have rebel drones who can use Combine tech. But no one's seen him in a while..

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly drone headband (A headband with the 5 small extra eyes that disassembly drones have. Unlike actual DDs tho, the headband is only wired into the head instead of welded) - Fingerless gloves with retractable blades (Wolverine hands basically, when the user makes a fist, 3 blades protrude from their knuckles) - Booster Boots (Increase user’s agility and jump height, also protect the user from fall-related injury) - Arm & Leg armor (To look more like the disassembly drones and protect those limbs as they will NOT regenerate) - Stun Baton - Pistol - SMG - Baseball Bat

~ Ambiguous Alliance ~

Who these drones are allied with or what they stand for isn't quite known.

Alice - Role: Father Grigori ??????

Doll - Double agent, Spy on the Resistance - Role: Dr. Mossman (Mitchell HDTF) Lives in the bunker with the resistance, has some kind of deal with J to provide information about inner rebel activity. It’s unknown what her bigger plan is. (Aka I don’t know yet)

Weapons/Tools: - Absolute Solver powers - Metal Pipe - Revolver

Lizzy - Triple agent, Metrocop Works with Doll, doesn’t know her entire scheme but she goes along with whatever Doll tells her anyways. Like joining the metropolice under the guise of being a spy on the Combine, but to the Combine she claims to be a spy on the resistance and giving them information to back it up. Can set up turrets and mounted guns.

Weapons/Tools: - Disassembly drone headband (A headband with the 5 small extra eyes that disassembly drones have. Unlike actual DDs tho, the headband is only wired into the head instead of welded) - Fingerless gloves with retractable blades (Wolverine hands basically, when the user makes a fist, 3 blades protrude from their knuckles) - Booster Boots (Increase user’s agility and jump height, also protect the user from fall-related injury) - Arm & Leg armor (To look more like the disassembly drones and protect those limbs as they will NOT regenerate) - Stun baton - Pistol - SMG

Cyn - True leader of the Combine - Role: G-Man + Overwatch No one knows there’s anyone above J since Cyn only gives orders to her. She is the one who made the Combine and put J in command. She let J, V, and N keep their memories, however.. They may be wiped if any of them begin deviating.

Weapons/Tools:

- Absolute Solver - Sword - Revolver

Tessa - ??????

~ Outland Creatures ~

Eldritchs - Disassembly drones who’ve been damaged beyond what their regeneration is capable of fixing, requiring material from outside sources. Sometimes this is viable, but usually it is advised to just destroy eldritchs immediately as they will violently massacre and destroy anything that contains the material it needs, even other disassembly drones. These beings take on many forms and can create very convincing holograms of those they kill to lure prey, so one should never approach random figures in the outlands.

Note: because of this, disassembly drones have a fail-safe trigger that disables regeneration if it detects a certain amount of weight lost. (indicating severe damage that could lead to becoming eldritch.) Of course this fail-safe can fail to trigger or trigger unnecessarily(falsely detecting significant weight loss) sometimes.

Heartcrabs - The cores of disassembly drones and solver-afflicted drones that can no longer return to their bodies(likely entirely destroyed). Similar to the eldritchs, they may start looking for a new body by attacking living drones; this doesn’t work well and creates aggressive zombie-like drones. (Might be scrapped Idk)

Anti-Drone Sentinels - Quick, aggressive robotic raptors that emit bright flashes of light to boot-loop any drone who looks at it, rendering them immobile until a reboot can be done. They move in packs in the outlands, it’s rumored a few drones have learned how to tame them.

FEEL FREE TO SEND ME ASKS ABOUT THE AU, PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS. IT CAN ALSO HELP ME FLESH THINGS OUT SO PLEASE 🥺🥺🙏

[cosmerelists]

AITA Posts on Roshar: Part 1

“AITA” is a reddit forum and stands for “Am I The Asshole?” It’s a way for people to get a crowd-sourced view on whether their behavior is acceptable or not. So here are some posts we might see if that forum existed on Roshar!

This ended up getting long, so please look forward to Part 2 later! (or more if people like this)

1. AITA for trying to save my old friend’s legacy?

[per reddit policy details are changed to protect identities!!]

I (LE/M/50) used to be very good friends with a man, let’s call him Danny (LE/M/51). Unfortunately, we’ve grown distant over the years due to his weakness, poor life choices, and growing insanity, but I still care about the man he used to be. Danny and I worked hard to build a “business” together with our other friend, Gavvy (deceased). When Gavvy died, it became very hard to keep the business going, especially since I wanted the business to remain strong, and Danny wanted to destroy it with his terrible ideas, weakness, poor life choices, and growing insanity. Unfortunately, Danny is very popular with the “CEO” Elky, and I could never make Elky see the truth of how Danny was going to destroy everything we had worked so hard to build.

Obviously it was time for Danny to go, but I didn’t want his legacy to be destroyed in the process--I wanted him to go out in a heroic blaze of glory so that he would be remembered well. But here is where I might have been TA: I left him and his son to die. BUT it would have been a glorious death and also the way I set it up was extremely clever and fully in line with Alethi values. Even so, Danny unfortunately survived and now he’s mad and going around and telling everyone that I am TA. 

I don’t think it’s wrong to want to protect an old friend’s legacy. AITA?

2. AITA for throwing the man who saved my sons’ lives into prison?

I know how it sounds. I will not mince words.

A situation arose in which my two sons were liable to be badly maimed if not outright killed. No one would help except for one dark-eyed guard (M/19) who intervened. Nearly at the cost of his own life, he saved both of my sons.

Unfortunately, almost immediately afterwards the DE guard greatly angered the king who ordered him executed. I managed to talk the king into throwing him into prison instead. I thought that in so doing I was both obeying the king I am sworn to obey while also saving the man who saved my sons.

But now the man glowers at me from his prison cell with his dark, pain-filled eyes, and he seems very angry about being in prison. 

Was I wrong? AITA?

3. AITA for wanting dry feet?

This occurred during one of the worst weeks of my (LE/F/17) life--not counting the week where my mom died and the week where my dad died. I had been literally shipwrecked, all my companions and my mentor were dead, and I was trying to make my way to the city where my fiancé lived by any means possible. 

I fell in with this conwoman who mistakenly thought that I was also a conwoman (long story). In order to prevent her from, you know, murdering me in my sleep, I decided to play along until I arrived at my destination. Perhaps not the most ethical, but again, it was my life at stake and I had no allies and no resources.

Another thing that was happening during that time was that my feet were killing me. I was shipwrecked, remember, and I also had to walk a long way with no shoes. I had blisters. My feet were infected for a while. I was literally collecting antiseptic sap from plants to try to keep my feet from rotting off. What I really REALLY needed were good, sturdy boots.

To make a long story short, me and the conwoman lady (who, remember, thought that I was also a conwoman) ran into this DE guard and the conwoman without consulting me pretended that I was a Horneater princess. I had to play along or else she would have known I was tricking her, so I did. And I got kinda caught up in the moment and I ended up demanding that the DE guard give me his boots. Which he did.

Obviously he can just go and get new boots whereas I really needed them. But I kind of feel a little bit guilty because he seemed pretty upset. AITA? 

4. AITA for wanting to date my husband’s brother?

I (LE/F/60) am a widow--my husband has been deceased for a long time now. He was not the best man or the greatest husband. Perhaps that is neither here nor there, but I want it on record that while we were married, I never strayed and I supported him as best I could, even though it was not always mutual.

Now that he is dead, everyone acts as though my life is over, like I am nothing but a widow who should be put on a shelf and left to rot. I do not believe that my life is over. There is another man that I have feelings for...but he happens to be my deceased husband’s brother. This man is a widower himself, and his wife, whom he loved dearly, has also been dead for a long time. I believe that he has feelings for me as well.

Should the two of us be denied happiness simply due to convention, simply because he happens to be the brother of my long-dead husband? He and I are a good match, his sons love me, and I believe that we both deserve happiness.

AITA for wanting this?

5. AITA for forgetting one small detail?

It had been a busy night. I had been ordered to assassinate a king while wearing white. But I also had to be loud so that everyone knew that the king had been assassinated. This meant I killed more people and not just the king.  Also the king disguised himself so I didn’t even know I was fighting the king for a while. I was very stressed. It was hard to kill him. I finally had to collapse a balcony to kill him. And this was during a party and there was a peace treaty and I kept getting my oathstone passed around and I was truthless. Anyway he made a dying wish and of course dying wishes must be honored. I wrote a whole message in his blood (that’s what he wanted me to do. possibly not the blood thing. but the message certainly). he also gave me this weird rock which was also part of the dying wish thing so i did it. even when i abandoned all of my clothes and was basically naked in the rain i kept it. there was a lot going on. but i forgot i had it. there were other more important rocks to worry about than the weird black glowing rock. but now it’s a long time later and i am in prison and the queen seems really mad that i never told her about this one glowing rock that i got from her husband (her husband was the king that i killed). that’s weird right. it was just the one detail that i forgot to mention. but she seems mad about it. aita

6. AITA for saving humanity?

Surely we can all agree that it is better for humanity to be saved than for it to be destroyed completely.

Even if only a small portion of humanity can be saved, that is better than all of humanity dying.

I (LE/M/78) even gained a boon from Cultivation herself so that I would have the capacity to save humanity.

Saving humanity has required me to take actions that others may deem as evil. I accept this--it is the duty of a king to bear the evil so that others may be blameless. 

Yes, I have ordered the deaths of many. Yes, I traded 99% of humanity to an evil god to save 1%. Yes, the 1% happened to be my own city and family. 

But I think we can all agree that I am hardly the asshole to have done all this to save humanity.

Right?

[violnces]

—       blasting  self esteem  by  the offspring  down  main  street  we’ve  spotted  VERITY MOREAU  sporting  their  gold chained ruby necklace engraved with her family insignia .  the  twenty five  year  old  DHAMPIR HYBRID  who’s  been  in  town  for  twenty years  often  can  be  seen  sketching new designs in the park on a summer day, sneaking through the woods at night to clear her mind, singing loudly at the top of her lungs at the shop while bored,  or  working  as  a  TATTOO ARTIST at  NEON INK.  people  say  they  display  imaginative  and  vindictive  traits,  but  we  rather  trust  their  vibes:  feeling the weight of ancient family values on your shoulder, being born into a legacy that bears the weight of the world, pink skirts and a dazzling smile with a tattoo gun in your hand, wanting to scream into oblivion without fear of being heard, the distinct feeling of wanting to go home - but not knowing where home is.  also,  we’ve  heard  they  love  COLLECTING ROCKS !   aren’t  they  fascinating ?

full name:  verity adeline moreau

nicknames: v, ver, little vamp,

gender:  cis woman

pronouns:  she + her

sexuality:  bisexual

age:  twenty five

date of birth:  april 10th

zodiac sign:  aries

occupation:  tattoo artist at neon ink !

FAMILY

parents:  lucinda matthews ( mother, deceased ), andreas moreau (dad, sort of estranged but still in contact )

siblings:  twin brother ( possible wc i dont know yet!!), two older half siblings (also.. possible wcs... think of a somewhat close but not really set of dhampir half-sibs.. running amuck in portum.... )

APPEARANCE

eyes:  sea blue

hair:  constantly dyeing her hair between dark brown and blonde... she's going through a crisis ok

piercings:  ears are littered with piercings, has a septum nose piercing as well.

tattoos:  a tattoo of four doves on her left wrist; one for each representation of her siblings, her zodiac constellation on her right shoulder, an alien pointing the finger on her ankle, a ghost on her other ankle & the phases of the moon only to piss her father off because he's a vamp <3 .

other distinguishing features:  a distinguished air around her that she's better than everyone else, always wearing her family necklace engraved with rubies, a sarcastic smile on her face 24/7.

style:  always wearing a splash of color unless her father's in town because he seems to suck the fun out of everything, loves skirts & dresses just as much as jeans and shorts. an avid fan of multiple bracelets and rings adorned on each arm & hands, always has her hair down unless, again her father is in town & she has to pretend to be the perfect moreau she knows she is not.

PERSONALITY

positive traits:  creative, resourceful, independent

negative traits: vindictive, cruel, self-destructive

health:  has dealt with depression her whole life, also has undiagnosed adhd

likes:  collecting rocks, painting, photography, can play piano however hasn't touched one in years, avid history lover, gardening, baking, secretly loves to read comic books, tattooing herself in her spare time, also loves a bit of chaos every now and then

dislikes  sitting down for too long, silent spaces, crowded rooms & mushrooms, fires, the familial pressure to live up to the moreau expectations and always falling short every time, got bitten by a deer once and now its on sight any time she sees one , also does not like moths.

HEAD CANONS/BIO. - TW: parental death !

turns out i cannot fully form a bio anymore so here are a bunch of headcanons and slight family history!! anyways, enjoy my ramblings <3

Verity is a girl who deep down tries her best to please everyone, even her estranged father & siblings, especially her twin brother. It doesn’t seem like it ; she is definitely one to march to the beat of her own drum, but she still shows up to the weekly moreau family dinners once a week, verity still answers her twin’s phone calls even if its two am and she hasn’t slept a wink. Just because she says she hates her family, doesn’t mean she doesn’t love them. After all she is a moreau in blood & defiance, nothing will break the invisible bond they share with each other. 

To those who don’t know her she comes across as rude and obnoxious, but those who do know her see the vulnerable & childlike side to her that she hides, because to be a moreau is to be strong. But the weight of her familial expectations is crumbling the very foundations of herself, but verity still maintains an air of sophistication and being better than everyone else to keep others at bay. She has enough friends thank you. 

She and the rest of her siblings are dhampirs, half-human & half-vampire; but verity has always seemed more human than the rest, especially her twin brother. She is the black sheep of the family due to her natural human instincts ; though she does have a liking to blood more than others, and verity for a fact is stronger than her brother, though he is faster than her. 

Never had any interest in her father’s family real estate business in the human world ; though it seemed like her siblings were in a constant competition to be the best in front of their father, andreas, as they all wanted to take over once he decided it was time. While she wasn’t competitive with her siblings, in school she had always been ruthless and callous - needing to be the best was apparently a moreau trait, and she was almost always top of her class. She’d hide behind her intelligence like a shield ; verity moreau seemed as untouchable as she was charming and elegant. 

Has been living in Portum since she was five ! [ tw ] when her and her twin brother were born, andreas collected them from the hospital as their mother had passed during birth, compelling anyone who worked that night to forget about the inhumanly intelligent new born babies who already had the strength of a three year old. [ end tw ] They spent a few years traveling with them while he built his growing empire in real estate, before returning back to portum and reuniting the twins with their half-siblings ( andreas had a problem okay, he cant resist the human ladies ), so they could grow up in a place where they didn’t have to hide who they were. 

Verity loves being a dhampir; having most of the perks a vampire has while being able to walk in the sun without being bothered, she’s fast, strong but her hypnosis is weak. She doesn’t care to hypnotise people, verity would rather charm them naturally. Constantly flirting with everyone just because she can. Her fangs pop out of her mouth whenever she smiles, though they aren’t as sharp as full-vampires, they’re unnaturally longer than an average human. Growing up verity realised she had some influence over human emotions ( much like… jasper in twilight ok…. Dont @ me ) though as she’s only a half vampire, she doesn’t have much influence over the supernatural, but she also hasn’t tried. It kind of scares her, being able to manipulate the emotions of others, and refuses to learn more about how to - a constant thought and worry is someone accusing her of influencing the way they feel about her. Her father says he doesn’t care, but she can feel the disappointment radiating off of him sometimes, so verity gives him a wide berth because of it. 

Verity hates moths & bugs, as much of a careless girl she tries to be if she sees one she will scream ! 

Loves to gossip !! verity is a gossip queen and loves to learn the intimate details of her clients at neon ink. Will usually yap their ear off while verity works, and has no problem showing them her cool little rock collection. 

Will usually only leave Portum to collect said rocks and always comes back with a new obsession ; last time it was candle making, the time before that it was soaps and perfume making. Verity is obsessed with trying new hobbies and her little apartment is jam packed with forgotten hobbies - knitting, flax weaving, cooking, body lotions…. She just loves to learn things okay 

Verity is a force of nature and she knows it, her smile always has an edge to it and her eyes will always twinkle with i can get away with anything. Is at her most peace when she has the tattoo gun in her hand and she’s humming a little tune.

CONNECTIONS -

these are just some lil ideas i got while writing... whatever that bio was shdjdkd but i am also up for plotting our own thing !

Best friend/s: she’s been in portum since she was five and i’d imagine y/m has adopted verity as one of their friends !! verity would have come off as a quiet, shy girl at first until getting to know all of her, but they love each other anyway!! Verity is loud and opinionated but she means well. They’re essentially ride or dies, bonus points if they have matching tattoos!! 

Mentor/parental figure: as her father hadn’t been around for her important milestones, i just think it would be cute if she got close to someone older than her that seemed to be a better parent than her dad is dhefkkdd and would cheer her on from the sidelines, and possibly helped her strengthen her vamp abilities ! 

Bad influence: verity’s the “black sheep” of the family due to different interests in life, but this is the person who would have influenced her to make bad decisions over the years, and verity always goes to this person when her dads coming to town and she needs to relieve some stress by being a nuisance to society <3

Enemies: verity is hard to like sometimes and that’s okay ! she’s blunt, cutthroat when she wants something & will tear someone down to get what she wants because that’s all she knows. Maybe they’ve beefed since school and as adults they just dont mesh well! Bonus points for catty arguments that end in free tattoos <3

[duncneydivorce]

The upcoming Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver series includes a promising bit in the preview that I have a lot of thoughts about:

“Above all, they are twins who look out for each other. So when Wanda receives a letter from the recently deceased Magneto that would upset Pietro, she burns the letter before her brother can read it.

But her choice drives them apart at the worst possible time”

It seems this series is going to take a more unconventional route where Wanda creates conflict between the two. Not that I think this is OOC, on the contrary, I think it’s a very interesting and often overlooked part of their relationship.

Pietro was always more imposing and vocal about it, but Wanda is equally as protective of her brother as he is of her. And she has made mistakes for this too just as he has.

But before I can go any further into that we need context.

After surviving a childhood of extreme racism and their saviour’s indoctrination (who also turned them into highly profiled criminals), the twins find themselves at the mercy of public opinion. Cap’s Kooky Quartet may have saved them from being convicted, but it’s not enough for them to simply do superhero work, they must earn the mantle of superhero (the idea of what makes someone a superhero and who get the be the verdict is already a very loaded notion that I won’t expand on but it’s worth being conscious of this here). In order to be accepted the twins are essentially marketed as the ‘American Dream’; a couple of impoverished immigrants who worked their way up to success, a pair of misguided misfits who needed the guidance of the all American Captain America. Their relationship with Steve IS meaningful and important to their ability to become heroes but it’s not because he ‘turned them around’, rather by simply giving them accommodation, resources and opportunities they’ve never had access to in their lives. But that’s not what the majority see, to them the Maximoff’s are a rehabilitation project that’s a testament to their society’s benevolence. It's a similar kind of rancid vibe as those mission trips in Africa. They are tokenized and tolerated only when the narrative forced on them feeds the white superamcist ego.

And most importantly, this tolerance is completely conditional.

While the two do have genuine fondness for their time on the team, their livelihood as Avengers cannot be divorced from this groundwork. In fact, multiple Avengers stories from their early days delve into the complicated relationship they have with this fact (and no this is not an ‘Avengers are cops’ rhetoric, joining the Avengers literally saved them from a more punitive judgement from the criminal justice system).

When Pietro voices very real concerns about this we see Wanda undermine him. When he learns of his wife’s infidelity her first reaction is to convince him to forgive her and move on. There’s another moment and for the life of me I can’t find the panel but after some brief reflection Wanda admits she may have been rash to dismiss Pietro as fanatic.

All of this does come from her love and protectiveness for her brother but it also comes from a very real trauma and fear.

Before I go on let me clarify, Wanda has never been a self hating minority. I mean the whole reason she called herself Scarlet Witch is because she was reclaiming a stereotype her persecutors used against her. Nor has she ever been an obedient damsel without independence. Since her very debut she has been a character with agency, while Pietro can be chauvinistic at times her relationship with her brother has always been the one of equals, and fighting for her autonomy (usually against literal demons) is one of the major recurring themes in her evolution.

That being said, it’s worth examining the conflicting self-repression that’s followed Wanda since the very beginning. She and pietro both understandably reacted in extremes and where he grew abrasive and restless, she could show a tendency to something akin to a model minority complex at times (remember her livelihood literally depended on advertising her as one at a certain point). There is room for a longer and more thorough analysis on this but to keep it brief and to the point I want to highlight specifically the way she has projected this onto Pietro. Again, the both of them have made their own mistakes, hurt themselves, each other and others for this, but while we have seen stories allow growth for pietro’s mistreatment towards Wanda over this, the inverse has been mostly forgotten. Until now it seems.

Wanda and Pietro have come a very long way and I trust Orlando to treat Wanda as a character who has made mistakes and who’s flaws lie in her compassion. His run was heavily dedicated to acknowledging the harm her actions have done to others in the past without letting it hold her back and acknowledging how she was victimised in those situations. What I’m more sceptical of is his understanding of where that trauma comes from, because there was no meaningful examination of this so far. Wanda is a displaced refugee with violent experiences of racism and poverty. The Avengers was more than a team to her, it was a sanctuary. An extremely precarious one. She was also like.. a teenager when this was thrusted on her. It’s completely reasonable that as she grew into herself she would struggle with respectability politics and would project this onto her brother who’s indignation often isolated himself.

I’m not expecting Orlando to write critical race theory or anything but since it seems an important part of the story will lie in addressing this particular contention between the twins then personally I feel what will make or break this series will be whether Orlando can communicate this. We know he’s AWARE of their heritage and origin and is consciously trying to include it in how they are represented in his work so I’m choosing to be optimistic but I guess only time will tell.

[chaosrealm]

Perses Introduction

Basics

Name: Perses | Origin: Greek | Meaning: Destroyer

Nicknames: Carnage Incarnate (given by his enemies), Trusted Advisor (given by Havik & other rebels) Age: Unknown

MBTI: INFJ-T (Advocate)

Sex: Male Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Straight

Species: Human / Half-?????

Realm of Origin: Orderrealm

Physical Appearance

Skin: Warm Tan

Height: 6’5” Weight: 170lbs

Eye Color: Yellow Hair Color: Dark Brown Hair Texture: Thick and smooth 

Body Type: Average muscular

Prominent Features: 

Burn scar on his right shoulder

A scar stretching from his upper lip over to the middle of his cheek

Glowing yellow eyes

Clothing Style: Perses’ hair is slicked back, and his forehead down to his eyes is painted black. He wears a tattered brown leather jacket with a sweater underneath, jeans, and combat boots; all black. 

Personality 

Positive Traits: Wise, Diplomatic, Observant, Organized, Resourceful, 

Negative Traits/Flaws: Resentful, Morbid, Temperamental, Paranoid

Hobbies: Aiding, and Advising the rebellion, Writing, Gardening, Making jewelry,

Likes: Seidan Rebellion, Havik, Free will, 

Dislikes: Seidan Government, Necromancy, Those who hoard wealth, 

Goals: Seeing that all of Seido lives free of tyranny, keeping Eunomia’s memory alive. 

Fears: The rebellion failing, forgetting Eunomia. 

Health

Physical Health: Perses has an average but muscular build. He’s been a servant his entire life, but the scraps his higher-ups gave him were just enough to keep him alive and working, but they were not sufficient, so he’s underweight.  

Mental Health: Perses has witnessed a lot of traumatic things during his life, so it’s no surprise he has PTSD, even if he doesn’t know that’s what it’s called.

Phobias: Atychiphobia — Fear of failure 

Professional Life

Perses spent most of his life as a servant to one of Seido’s top government officials. During that time, he learned a lot about the inner workings of Seidan politics, and who controls what. 

When the time came for him to make his escape, he knew that the rebels would benefit the most from all of his insider knowledge. 

Fighting Attributes 

Abilities/Powers: 

Blood Magic — Unbeknownst to him, Perses was born with the power of blood magic. At first, it was limited to use only on others in his vicinity, until he met Quan Chi. Now, his power has enhanced exponentially, and it can be used on anyone (even himself) within a much larger radius. 

Self-Healing —  Blood magic also gives him the ability to heal himself quickly when injured. 

Skills: 

Tactician —  In the midst of kombat, he can call upon other Seidan rebels to help defend or attack alongside him. Sometimes even Havik will join the fray. 

Diplomat —  Perses’ time as a servant has also made him a master of negotiation. He is often at the forefront of negotiations between both the rebels and Seido’s government. 

Web of Spies —  Perses collects information from his network of spies who work as servants for higher castes or government officials. 

Strengths: 

Chaotic breakout brawls

Settings where he can negotiate and/or bargain with others

Weaknesses: 

His family

Netherrealm magic

Weapons: 

Blood traps/spells

Blood absorption

Blood daggers

Relationships

Biological Mother & Father —  deceased

Eunomia (Wife) — deceased

Allies:

Havik

Darrius

Quan Chi (briefly)

Rain (briefly)

Seidan servant spies

Enemies:

Hotaru

Seidan Government

Love Interest: 

Eunomia

Backstory

Perses is a Seidan, amongst those in the lower castes, born into a family of servants. When he's old enough to work, he's subject to working long hours, serving one of Seido's top government officials.

His only moments of solace are with Eunomia, another servant who serves the same official. She believes that one day all Seidan’s will be able to live freely, while Perses much more pessimistic, and believes that it will probably never come to fruition. As they grow into adults, they watch their families wither away in service of order. 

They both continue to faithfully serve and their bond blossoms into devotion to one another. For a time, she is the only light in his ‘sea-of-darkness’ life, and he proposes to her. They are married in secrecy. Or so they thought. 

Those they served somehow found out about the union, and they are both brought before them in shackles. They demand they renounce their unlawful marriage or be punished. Perses and Eunomia refuse. 

Eunomia pleads that they are in love, and promises that more servants will be born if it pleases them. But the officials hear none of it. And since she spoke up in their defense, she’s the one who’s punished. 

Perses is made to watch as the guards torture her, ripping out fingernails, whipping her until she bleeds, burning her skin. He begs them to stop, that it was his fault they were together. But it was too late. Eunomia was gone. When all is said and done, Perses' trembling body is taken back to his chambers and shackled to the bed. As the adrenaline wears off and the anger sets in, he begins to plan his escape.

Months pass of him going about his duties as if nothing happened. When he learned there was to be a ball thrown in honor of the Seidan military, he knew it was his chance. When no one is around, Perses poisons the wine they would be serving. The poison was concocted when he briefly had access to the kitchens, using a recipe his mother left behind when she died. 

Alongside the other unknowing servants, he serves the wine to all those who attend and sits back as the carnage unfolds.

The patrons clutch at their throats as they spew up blood, skin fading into a shade of purple. Soldiers and noblemen alike reach out for their own servants to help them, but it's futile. Perses couldn't help but grin as he watched the man who ordered the torture of his wife choke on his own blood. It's only when his clenched fists tingle that he realizes he is the reason he hasn't spit up any. He clenches his fists tighter, savoring the moment as the man chokes in agony as he tries to expel it. Perses is emotionless when he falls face-first into his plate of food. 

But he couldn't revel in it for long, as he had to make his escape. Quickly. 

And escape he does, but not without swinging by the bedroom of the man he served, rummaging through his drawers and closet. He finds what he's looking for in the man's closet, stashed away in a shoebox. The makeshift ring he had given his wife when he proposed, made of wire he had stolen from one of the lamps in the foyer, and a polished red rock he had chipped out of the bathroom walls. 

It was the last piece of Eunomia he had left. 

It's too small for him to slip on any of his fingers, so he stashes it away in his pockets. He hears heavy boots rushing down the hall as he shoves the box back into its place. He then stuffs a fresh pair of clothes into a pillowcase before making his way into the extravagant bathroom.

There he finds a bottle of black paint. Without thinking, he uses the mirror to lather it on his forehead and around his eyes, before he stuffs the container into the pillowcase as well. Then he walks to the window, slides it open, and climbs out. 

He makes for the slums, the one place no one would dare look for him. It was too dirty for even the Seidan government. There, he hears a man with an intense voice preaching to the passersby about how they should take their freedom back from their oppressors. When the rest of the crowd around the man dispersed, Perses remained. He asked the man his name. 

He says his name is Dairou, but he could call him Havik.