#marriage of state au character designs

[minecraftbookshelf]

Marriage of State AU Character Designs: The Ocean Queen

Lizzie has two primary character designs for this au, which I currently refer to as Pre-Plot Event and Post-Plot Event, or Tall Lizzie and Taller Lizzie.

Pre-Plot Event/Tall Lizzie is already very clearly The Blue Axolotl, but other than being blue and a bit on the larger side there really isn't anything to distinguish her from the average axolotl hybrid.

In this form she is just barely over seven and a half feet tall, [Relevant Height Chart] so she is still the tallest of the emperors, though if Xornoth thinks tall thoughts and you count their antlers then the two of them are about the same height.

(side note that axolotls are bottom-dwellers, in that in the wild irl they live in the mud at the bottom of their native lake in Mexico. Minecraft axolotls have a wider range, but they still live primarily deep underwater or in caves. All of this is to say, Axolotls do not have great eyesight and primarily navigate by smell. Lizzie, not being only an axolotl, isn't blind but she is definitely near-sighted. She refuses any kind of corrective lenses.)

Lizzie does have three frills on each side of her head, the lowest just at the hinge of her jaw and the others going up behind her ears, these are her gills. (Axolotls have both gills and lungs, but most if not all aquatic hybrids have both gills and lungs, regardless of the nature of their non-hybrid counterparts, with the obvious exceptions of dolphin hybrids and other similar species where they don't have gills at all) The "stalk" part of each frill is blue and the frilly parts are more brown in color.

She has claws and some minimal webbing on her toes and fingers (axolotls don't have a whole lot of that) And also lots of very, very sharp teeth. She does also have a tail.

Post-Plot Lizzie/Taller Lizzie is Ten Foot Tall Lizzie, the blue outline on the height chart. She gets a growth spurt and is just a little bit less humanoid and a little bit more axolotl-oid. Her eyes are completely black after this (and her eyesight has gotten just a little bit worse and her sense of smell better) Her proportions are just the slightest bit...off now too (operating from a humanoid baseline). Her mouth opens just a bit too wide, she has just a few too many teeth, her limbs aren't set quite right and aren't quite the right length. Her tail is much more prominent in this form as well, having gone from basically a steering (in the water) aide to capable of propelling her through the water with a single stroke.

This is also where the fact that The Blue Axolotl is a divine title and not just a description becomes much more obvious.

Costuming!

We have two "oceanic" skins from canon to look at.

The wedding dress and The Blue Axolotl look.

My general take away from these is "high-low hemlines" and "off the shoulder" with a side of *squinting in 'empire waist???'*

When considering what visual effects I wanted for Lizzie in particular the primary consideration was what would underwater royalty look like and why?

And I came away with a combination of "threat display" and "ecosystem"

All of which boiled down comes to a concept of oceanic royal style is made up of easily removable layers.

On the outside you are going to have something thin and billowy, probably with lightly weighted hems so it swirls well. Something that will flow around the individual in question and give them a shifting, flaring silhouette.

Something like these designs from Hassidriss Coture collections

(pls note this isn't "this exactly" this is about the vibes)

This one from the ss19 collection

and then this piece called Lucid Dream from the ss20 collection.

Very high fantasy vibes specifically of the thin, translucent layers variety.

The key to these thin, translucent layers is that they can be shed in an instant. Because there are going to be lots of situations in which the royal in question has to move quickly, and lots of fabric creates lots of drag. So the long flowy skirts and capes and arm-pieces can be shucked off in seconds and left behind, leaving a much more fitted under-layer.

A lot of these outfits also wouldn't transition well from underwater to over-water, at least without a lot of very specific enchantments (which are a possibility) so its highly likely that for a lot of occasions Lizzie would actually have two outfits made to be very similar, one for underwater and one to change into once she is on land and needs to make a grand entrance without looking like a bedraggled piece of seaweed.

There is also a lot of jewelry and sleeves and accessories made out of lightweight beadwork crafted from shells and such that floats just enough to look cool, as well as heavier pieces more similar to dryland accessories. Beads and shells and strings in hair are also common, usually styled in a way to help keep it out of the face, even when underwater. (Lizzie's space buns are part of this sort of hairstyle.)

EDIT: I completely forgot to mention that Lizzie usually is carrying a trident, both as a ceremonial thing and also as her weapon of choice. It is decorated with bits of prismarine, both charm-style and as inlay, with the glactic enchantment runes engraved in lapis and mother of pearl.

EDIT 2: Lizzie has lightweight netherite plate armor inlaid with prismarine

-

Official Art!

Jimmy || Joel ||

AU Masterpost

[stringsbasement]

Your art of peri and your Villain AU of him? perfection. I read your twt thread and I'm greedy for more, im so serious like If there was a 100k word fanfic of your au I would read it in a heartbeat!! THATS how much im obsessed with the concept

thank you so much! i didn't expect there to be so much interest in my thoughtless doodles and rambles. luckily, i already have a draft for a rant i formulated about this version of peri's possible motivations, and now i have an excuse to share it!!

also, as a bonus, have this silly doodle :)

[his hairstyle is his attempt to separate himself from his parents, but no matter what he does with it, he can never get it to sit without that stray tuft and curl at the very end.

also, his bowtie is in reference to chloe and my initial art of irep before his design was revealed. the latter almost makes it seem like they "swapped roles."]

the thing is, it's hard to imagine peri as someone purposefully wanting to harm others for his own pleasure. for a "bad" au of peri to occur, he'd have to take after timmy, and seek chaos the same way he did

now, timmy is a good person at heart. his fairies love him, and he loved them in turn. that's undeniable. however, timmy was so stressful he affected cosmo and wandas marriage, and they had to retire right after him to rekindle their love and stop being so awful towards each other. timmy was simultaneously one of the best and worst things to ever happen to them

so it's not that much of a stretch to think he'd affected peri during his development, to the point he unknowingly influenced peri's core beliefs, which he'll carry over later in life

timmy used his fairies to escape from his regular life. he was incredibly reckless, and shirked responsibilities till the consequences got him back tenfold. a dangerous, but fulfilling way of living. he might've mellowed out in the later years, but considering he chose to keep vicky around to purposefully make himself miserable and keep his fairies instead of facing reality, maturity wouldn't be a straight or easy path

peri, adopting this way of thinking, believes the best way to live life is taking risks. ignoring your present problems in favor of escapism. he would insist this upon his godchild, and be blind to the complex nuance of dev's situation

dev's parental neglect differs from timmy's, and thus requires different treatment. but peri doesn't realize that, and dev is a child who cannot comprehend how awful he really has it, let alone communicate it in a way that isn't just lashing out and throwing tantrums

for classic peri, this is an annoyance. for this peri though? he'll enable it, because he thinks dev needs to get it out of his system. like timmy. which is in some way correct, but it's a flawed, only temporary solution

and it's in this way a path of deeper exploration opens up about characters similar to cookie, highlighting how flawed the godparent system can be when a child is assigned a godparent who cannot fulfill what they truly need

starting a ghost apocalypse is nothing compared to the wishes that has been granted before. and, honestly, dev taking viozalia's staff to use against her is a clever move. this peri wouldn't be downtrodden like he was in the original scene, but impressed. he would say as such, and dev, being the emotionally starved 10 year old he is, will soak those words up like a dry sponge

(slightly off topic: i like to think a little quirk this peri would have is, instead of looking to da book of rules for guidance, (cosmo, wanda, and his classic self do this multiple times in the show when in unique situations,) he'd be searching for anything that states what can't he do. "what to do when your god kid tries to start a ghost apocalypse... nothing? sweet!")

this would naturally allow him and dev to bond a little more. even if it's just shit talking other people and how they're totally better than everyone else

it doesn't mean they get along splendidly. dev is still pissed that he can't make the wishes he wants, and peri overcompensates by allowing him to throw himself into situations that just narrowly avoids sanction. because, oh yeah, peri would not appreciate being forced to follow the rules which includes wiping the godchild's memories after the godparent's term has passed

(if anything, he'll find a loophole out of it. he learned from the best, after all)

this is also where peri's spoiled nature would shine through. being offered everything just because he was a baby would make anyone entitled

he and dev are too similar for their own good. they have have access to anything they could ask for, but are unable to get love from one person they want it from. it's almost pitiful

to keep those thoughts out of dev's (and his own) mind, peri resorts to pushing dev out of his comfort zone, which would ordinarily be a good thing, only, he goes way too far to the point of regression

you know, it really doesn't help that dev looks a lot like timmy. i mean, look at them...

that's timmy with slicked back hair and a white jacket. c'mon

but even with all of this, peri doesn't really become a villain. he's antagonistic at most, with his strained relationship with his parents and his help in making things harder for hazel. luckily, the latest episode has given me a few ideas

when peri inevitably comes to care for dev, he'll obviously has to do something about his constant unhappiness. dev has a point in complaining about the fact hazel has two godparents and he only has one, even when his life is "worse" (another unhealthy way of thinking,)

hmmmm. so how can dev have two fairy godparents, and how can peri break da rules without putting himself at risk?

who other than a mirror of peri's own self?

a shift inevitably took place, one where peri became more intense and irep more soft. it's so subtle it goes unnoticed until thousands of years have passed

irep has become timid, soft, and well-meaning. if peri either quits his position or gives way for another slot and puts dev under a sort of split-custody, dev will be able to use anti-fairy magic, which can completely bypass any of the rules regular fairy magic is withholden to

irep will get what he wants as well. in this post, i answered an ask in which i speculate that irep genuinely does want a godchild, and the love and appreciation that comes with it. that much would stay the same for this au

and, well, unlike irep, peri has always been willing to share

this would make way for a bunch of whacky hijinks, potential plots, and new threats. consequences piling up until they become too huge to ignore. not to mention the full implications of a fairy and anti-fairy switching roles. of course, this is just a fun idea i came up with on the spot, and i haven't thought it out too much, so pointing out any plot holes that would come from this is appreciated!

i have more to say, mainly about peri and his parents' initial separation, as well as the parallels that can be found with this version of peri and hazel, but i feel it would be best to end it here :)

thank you for making me write all of this!

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader Style: gn!reader Character: Ace, Marco, Thatch Vibe: SFW Yandere AU: Government Mandated Marriage Prompt: Soft/Comfort Gift Giver: (⌐■_■) Anonymous!

Summary: The government match program matched you with Portgas D Ace, and as a bonus, his two brothers have taken it upon themselves to help the new young couple adjust.

Content Notes: sfw but as it is Yandere, there are yandere themes, so tread carefully.

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

The Match Program had paired you up with a similarly aged young man with freckles and a bright smile. You were excited to meet Ace, and had been delighted to meet his father and brothers all in the same go. They were all so sweet, and understanding.

His father had spoken with your parents at length, and you and Ace had been supervised by his older brothers, Thatch and Marco. Both were older enough that they’d effectively aged-out of the match program, but since not everyone was matched, it wasn’t too surprising.

Ace’s family was well off and his father had put you both up in a very nice apartment while you had the chance to get to know one another. Marco and Thatch helped the two of you with the wedding planning, and had taken a lot of stress off your shoulders so you could spend more time with Ace.

It had been like a fairy tale.

In a way, it still was. Fairy Tales often had princes and princesses trapped in a tower, protected by beasts and monsters as they waited for deliverance.

As you looked out the back window of your post-marriage house, watching the soft breeze shift the flowers in the intricate and delicate flower bed design, you knew no one was coming to save you. Your parents believed you were still in your honeymoon phase with Ace, who was currently laying beside you, head on your lap, as your fingers combed idly through his hair.

He wanted to give you everything, and keep you safe. Ace and his brothers knew a side of this world you had no familiarity with, and insisted that it was important to protect you from it. When Ace was at work Marco would come over and keep you company, until Thatch showed up and Marco had to leave.

Everyone would have dinner together, and then Marco and Thatch would leave the two “love birds” alone for the evening.

You were safe.

You were cared for.

You were loved, you were sure.

But in six months since the wedding, with the exception of a trip for the honeymoon, you hadn’t left the house. At first Ace had excuses about being tired from work and wanting to just nap with you, like he was now.

The more insistent you got the more apologetic he became, but he wouldn’t budge.

When you left on your own, after he’d fallen asleep after dinner, it had become quite the fiasco. You’d only left to run a few errands, things you would’ve done during the day, but you’d wanted Ace to have the chance to go with you and keep you company. He was always worried about the risks to you outside, so it seemed only fair.

You’d been halfway through your list when Marco found you. You’d gotten into a bit of a heated argument in the store, as he’d wanted to return with you to your home immediately, and you wanted to finish your shopping. Marco had caved, but by the time you were done talking with Ace after you got home you felt like you’d done something terribly wrong.

It had taken a couple days for tensions to ease, and after that Thatch and Marco had started to visit more often.

Until eventually they were just here whenever Ace wasn’t.

It was just a sign of how much you were loved, and cared for. It shouldn’t bother you. Ace treated you so sweetly, never doing anything to you unless you said yes, never coercing you into agreeing. He was so warm and tender behind closed doors, so soft and loving.

He was only worried because of all that he’d already lost. Pops’ wasn’t his biological father, like all of the man’s sons, Ace was adopted. His own family had died, he’d lost much and more beyond that, convinced that he was undeserving of peace. Of love.

“If the world took you away too, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

The words echo in your mind as he shifts a bit, looking up at you with that sweet soft smile.

“Hey sunshine.” He murmurs, kissing your knuckles before turning toward you, warming his arms against your back and pulling you into a lazy snuggle. “Let’s go see a movie tomorrow.”

Your eyes widen and you smile. “At the theater?”

Ace grins, nodding against your belly. “Yeah, at the theater. We’ll get popcorn and everything.”

“Alright,” you murmur, running your fingers through his hair again. The warmth was everything you needed, sweet and soothing. It would be nice to get out of the house tomorrow, hand in hand with your husband. Even if his brothers came with you it would still be fun.

You weren’t sure what brought on the change, but maybe time had been enough for him to realize that there was less to fear than he believed. In a way it was flattering, to be so desperately important to someone like this. It was, at least, a way to help you accept all of it.

One flaw, in an otherwise perfect union, and it was nothing more than love a little too strong.

There were certainly far worse things to contend with.

[barrenclan]

i REALLY like how you made rainhaze seem so desperate and rambly in the way his issue was written. love it when characters povs are just Like That.

when he realized that pinepaw got noticed by defiance and when "oh no my nephew" it made me feel so awful and sad!!! this POOR LITTLE FAMILY !!!!

i also have a music suggestion for the poor wet man — still life by sitcom for rainhaze? i feel like the song itself and the lyrics captures the feeling of rainhaze's situation right now

Rainhaze is in quite a state right now and I was hoping his POV would contribute to that, so I'm glad it came across. As this series is primarily written, I really wanted it to feel different with each character's POV that I wrote from.

That is a very fitting song for him currently!

"As if, as if staring at a gravesite 'Til I become a gravesite Would it make me a still life?"

"How 'bout that I'll walk into the landscape I won't come back"

"Time doesn't respect what doesn't respect it And kind isn't a word I would use for man If everyone's made in "His" image and "He" couldn't perfect it Then what the hell makes anyone think we can?"

Oh yeah, you know it.

"We'll help you pull the trigger, we'll tell you what to say Just leave it all up to us and we'll help you make 'em pay"

"It doesn't matter if you disagree We're making it hand over fist on tragedy The revolution will be televised But just the part that we can monetize"

Oh man, I've never heard of this song but it's TOTALLY perfect for them.

"All my life in the dark, I've been waiting for, One sweet day, not alone, never anymore, All my life, I was blind now we're two of a crime"

"Horror story Now you've come along It was a horror story Now you've come along"

I think I could classify this as a Deepdark song.

"Welcome to your fate End of the line It's just a little explanation of your desperate situation You're a slave to my design"

"You are so dead Dancing with the enemy And you are so dead Fighting with the melody"

LMAO this is such a funny suggestion, but I think I could see it.

Thrasher, I'd say. The lyrics about trying to escape someone but being dragged back in is much more Thrasher, who covets through violence rather than persuasion.

In the human AU, Deepdark would have a lot less kids - maybe 3 or 4. But I think they would all be from different marriages, so let's say - Julian and Henry (Juniper and Hyssop) from their mother Rose (Wild Rose), Winter from his mother Hosannah (Hosta), and Christopher (Chrysanthemum) from his mother Ophelia (Oak). Four sons, three ex-wives.

"You know I'll never disappear Now get me out of here Just trust in me, my dear No cure is coming"

"Hello, my name is Mr. Fear I wish I had a faster therapy I've come to mind control your needs Tonight I'm gonna star all of your leads"

[wangxianficfinder]

Identity Shenanigans

~*~

Tele-Romeo by chapter_61 (T, 55k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, hidden identity, Fluff, Email Correspondence, falling in love with the same person twice, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity, a good wwx/jc sibling dynamic, Light Angst)

🧡 Hello, IT. Have You Tried Turning It Off and On Again? By overmountainandmeadow (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern AU, Office, Modern office AU, IT Director! LWJ, Graphic Designer! WWX, Father!LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Juniors as interns, Light Angst, Mistaken Identity, Identity Porn, Rabbits, Cloud Recesses as a company, Happy Ending, Single Parent LWJ)

we'll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, WangXian, Modern AU, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty WWX online that's it that's the fic, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

[restoration exercise - no talking] by spookykingdomstarlight (M, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, United States, Model WWX, Artist LWJ, ASMR Artist LWJ, Strangers to Lovers, Meet-Cute, Long-Distance Relationship, Identity Porn, Fluff, Light Angst, Loneliness, Yearning)

The Distance Between Fondness and Something Akin to Love by countingcr0ws (M, 20k, wangxian, arranged marriage au, not canon compliant, war, romance, mistaken identity, impersonation, awkward flirting, wedding planning, Chinese tradition)

Maybe You’re the Reason by Clearpearls (E, 67k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Phone  Sex, slight D/s, Secret Identity, Praise Kink, Phone Sex Operator WWX, he’s part-time though, slight internalized sexual repression, Fluff, Light Angst, Dirty Talk Orgasm Delay/Denial, Slow Burn, Sub LWJ, Bottom LWJ, Vibrators, Aftercare, Introspection)

Words from the heart by MusicMe_tc (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Secret Identity, Love Letters, Epistolary (kind of), Fluff, First Love, First Kiss, Asexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ, Love Confessions, Getting Together, Happy Ending)

💖 Paths of Light and Darkness Converge by ataratah (E, 30k, wangxian, fox WWX, dragon LWJ, secret identity, non-human genitelia, crack treated seriously, fluff, angst w/ happy   ending)

the cow says moo, the chicken says squawk, and the demon beast of yiling says by Dragonskye (T, 57k, wangxian, animal transformation, angst w/ happy ending, beauty and the beast fusion, falling in love, hurt/comfort, secret identity, pining)

cloudy autumn heaps the sky by anatheme (T, 23k, WangXian, Fantasy, Secret Identity, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Timeline What Timeline, wwx is a little older here, wwx piling gifts on lwj and encouraging hoarding tendencies, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Arranged Marriage, of sorts)

💙不忘 | Don’t Forget by dragongirlG (E, 50k, wangxian, time travel, reincarnation, fix-it of sorts, social media, identity porn, reunion, pining, angst w/ happy ending, modern era, artist WWX)

chasing you by jaws_3 (T, 10k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX isn’t found au, shapeshifting, pining, identity porn)

By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 31k, Wangxian, Canon Divergence, Crossdressing, Misunderstandings, Identity Porn, Identity reveal)

Imperfect Memory by xantissa (E, 62k, wangxian, dark fantasy, au, double identity porn, sub LWJ, angst, drama, smut, dub con, magic, trust, happy ending, falling in love again, hurt/comfort)

safe in your arms by YunmengLotus (E, 34k, wangxian, modern, single dad LWJ, mild self harm, anxiety, identity porn, hurt/comfort, slow burn, learning disabilities, canonical character death, car accidents, smut, switching)

rare the man who’ll hold to faith by Fahye (M, 13k, WangXian, Canon, Identity Porn, With Apologies To The Chivalric Romantic Tradition)

all the problems we could solve by Stratisphyre (T, 20k, wangxian, modern, getting together, somewhat non-linear, fluff, humor, violence, meet-cute, identity porn, thieves au)

This Tornado Loves You by FeelsForBreakfast (M, 8k, WangXian, Horror, modern cultivation au, Pizza Hut, Humor, Mistaken Identity, Modern with Magic)

travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 60k, wangxian, royalty au, mistaken identity, emperor WWX, poor LWJ, forced marriage, (by LWJ himself), confused WWX, parenthood, misunderstandings, empress LWJ, fluff & humor, married life, angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

Once Upon a Midnight Dreary by Vamillepudding (G, 15k, wangxian, canon divergence, YLLZ WWX, fairy tale elements, mistaken identity, curses, angst w/ happy ending)

silhouettes to steal this night by moonsteps (T, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, Assassins & Hitmen, Roommates, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Identity Porn, Violence, Blood and Injury, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Secret Identity)

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau (E, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Glory Hole, Compulsory Heterosexuality, Internalized Homophobia, Humiliation, Slut Shaming, Identity Porn, Objectification Kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mild Feminization)

pitiful destiny, point your finger at me by sassybluee (E, 66k, WangXian, Royalty, Yílíng Wèi Sect, Arranged Marriage, Pining while fucking, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Secret Identity, Under-negotiated Kink, Donghua YLLZ, CQL LWJ, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Identity Porn, Porn With Plot, Resentacles, YL WWX, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

new york, i love you by Yuisaki (T, 7k, WangXian, Modern AU, Identity Porn, Making Out, Underage Drinking, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Gossip Girl Fusion, Childhood Friends)

i hear your name in the wind by meanderingroad (T, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, POV Alternating, Social Media, vlogger!WWX, Pining, Misunderstandings, Texting, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Yunmeng trio bonding, Identity Porn)

🧡 a paper friend by soft_wanning (G, 4k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Paperman!WWX, Identity Porn, Meet-Cute, Different First Meeting)

seeds by antebunny (G, 3k, WangXian, SS & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Identity Porn, Dramatic Irony, identity theft, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, the Inherent Romance of Being Known, BAMF WWX, protective boyfriend!wwx, simp!lwj)

A Flourishing Kind of Love by masked (E, 12k, WangXian, Concubine LWJ, Gardener WWX, Court Intrigue Adjacent, Historical Inaccuracy, Identity Porn, Romance, Canon Elements)

it's you, it's you, it's always you by Fleetling (T, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, No Smut, Identity Porn, Secret Identity, Roommates/Housemates, College/University, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Video Game World, Slow Burn, kind of, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers)

Man on My Mind by brooklinegirl (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern AU, Sex Cam Worker WWX, Identity Porn)

points for style by isabilightwood (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Identity Porn, (Accidental), Mistaken Identity, the lightest of angst, Gratuitous Costume Descriptions, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Miscommunication, Scientist WWX, Kindergarten Teacher LWJ, Semi-Public Sex, Bottom LWJ, Wall Sex, Getting Together, Fluff and Smut)

a mouth so sharp and cruel by bavariansugarcookie (E, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Cupid & Psyche Fusion, Arranged Marriage, YL WWX, War Prize LWJ, Identity Porn, Sharing a Bed, Friends to Lovers, Identity Reveal, First Kiss, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Love Confessions, Dragon WWX, Everybody Lives)

Lan Wangji and the Love(s) of his Life by baobeibaobae (T, 3k, WangXian, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Kissing, First Kiss, Marriage Proposal, Love Confessions, Happy Ending, Oblivious WWX, Flirty WWX, Jealous LWJ, Courting Rituals, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining)

finally found you by huaisand (liebenmin) (G, 738, WangXian, Modern AU, Insomnia, Identity Porn, Radio)

forget to play my role by herecomesaspecialboy (hamburglar) (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern with Magic, Sexting, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Identity Porn, LWJ fingers himself and talks about bottoming)

I'm Talking Skin on Skin by julomaiboulomai (E, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Get Together, Author LWJ, Identity Porn, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Dirty Talk, Masturbation, handjobs, Oral Sex, Grinding, Misunderstandings, mild miscommunication)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, memory loss, slow burn, mystery, secret identity, wishes, magic, JYL & JZX lives au, JGY redemption, canon-typical violence, character death, implied/referenced sexual assault)

only the dead (have seen the end of war) by comforting_monachopsis (T, 42k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, temporary amnesia, BAMF WWX, sad LWJ, grief/mourning, loneliness, mild gore, secret identity, loss of identity, identity porn, angst, humor, crossdressing)

Wei Wuxian, Who's That? by bumbledees (T, 48k, wangxian, crossdressing, pining, sibling feels)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

Who is holding your hand? by danegen (E, 99k, WangXian, Canon Era, POV LWJ, Identity Shenanigans, Messing with Timelines and ages, courting, Switching, wwx's A+ planning, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Happy Ending, Minor Original Character(s), Betrayal, angst in fluff sandwich)

wing bones touching by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 8k, WIP, WangXian, Identity Porn, Female MXY, Good Person MY, good person is probably pushing it but he's not evil)

~*~

[thegirlwthedragontattoo]

blow a kiss, fire a gun

Rebelde AU Second Gen

Characters: Ella Yang

y soy rebelde

Did you do it? 

Ella Yang rolled eyes at the notification popping on the screen of her new phone. A myriad of question marks followed the message, causing the state-of-the-art device to buzz repeatedly. If she had briefly considered telling her cousin about her upcoming plans, his streak of panicked messages entirely ruled the option out. The sweet Oliver Lee-Choi was just too mindful of the rules and way too kind to understand her motivations.

She let out a deep, probably long-contained, sigh and stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes darted about for a few seconds before landing on her long shiny dark hair. She had flashbacks to her father trying to style her hair in a long braid with a pink ribbon tied at the bottom. Those days were long gone. She wasn’t daddy’s little girl anymore and until just a few days ago, she hadn’t seen Mark Yang — pop star, internationally renowned musician and her dad — for months.

The tall blonde woman walking up to her interrupted the increasingly crushing thoughts. “You’re ready sweetheart?” She asked with a smile as her fingers grazed the tips of her hair. 

Ella looked into her own eyes trying to ignore the way they were filling with tears. For a split second, she felt the urge to storm out of this place. Then, she reached to grab her newly acquired bag and suddenly everything clicked in her mind. 

She stopped in her tracks, making a double take to fully understand. From head to toe, Ella was decked out in luxurious items most teenagers her age could only dream of. A pair of Alaïa ballet flats, one-of-a-kind Bottega leather denim pants, a Miu Miu knit set, a Santos Cartier watch, a Van Cleef bracelet, a pair of diamond earrings, a set of Tiffany & Co. jewelry, a Kelly bag… the list went on. All the designer items and ridiculously expensive accessories all had one thing in common — and no, it wasn’t the price tag. They all were gifts from her dad trying to overcompensate for the months he was gone on yet another tour, for the way he pushed Ella and her mother out of his life, for not fighting for his marriage and eventually agreeing on a divorce. They all were ridiculous attempts to substitute for his absence and mistakes.

If he thought he could get away with buying her forgiveness and affection, then Mark Yang was in for a lesson. 

Ella gulped and nodded her head. “Yes,” she said as she ignored her phone chirping and shoved it onto the stylist station in front of her. “I'll go with the platinum blonde bob” she concluded with determination.

Mark Yang be damned.

...

[fandomlovingfreak]

Sejanus Plinth x Coriolanus Snow

Wattpad I AO3

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1137

Disclaimer: I do not own The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, Bridgerton or any of the characters. This work is not created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

General AU Notes at the End of the Chapter

Summary:

"Besides, your attendance is far more important than mine." Coriolanus purses his lips at that comment. Ah, yes, the true reason he must attend these blasted soirees.

Marriage.

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

Enjoy

Before he makes his introduction, Coriolanus bumps into the hostess of the night's festivities, Lady Satyria Click.

"Lady Click," he nods to the older woman, "You look lovely tonight."

Satyria, one of the late Vicountess's lifelong friends, had always adored Coriolanus, even treating him as her own when the opportunity arose. He was quite certain she'd be happy to conduct an introduction between the newcomers, Clemensia, and him. If they were here, it meant they had at least been introduced to Satyria and made a... decent impression on the woman.

The Lady smiles, undoubtedly dazzled by the Viscount's compliment, "Oh, Coriolanus, you spoil me with your words." She extends her hand to him.

"I am merely speaking the truth, my Lady," he takes her gloved hand, kissing her knuckles briefly.

"Lady Heavensbee," Satyria says after a beat, nodding toward Coriolanus's companion, "You look quite well."

Clemensia smiles, "Thank you, Lady Click. As do you."

With the mandatory pleasantries out of the way, Coriolanus jumps into what he really wants from the Lady: "Lady Click, I was wondering if you had a spare moment for an introduction to your foreign guests." His eyes dart to the dark-haired man and his parents. He is happy to see the man still stealing glances in his direction.

"Oh!" Satyria looks towards the three, "Of course, Coriolanus. Let me lead the way."

The older Lady walks them toward the young man and his parents. Coriolanus notices how the mother seems to touch her son's back, instructing him without words to stand up straighter. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Plinth," Satyria says, stopping before them, "How are you this evening?"

The older two smile affably at their host. The younger Plinth lets his eyes fall on Coriolanus once again, now close enough to truly look.

The older man speaks first, "We are wonderful." His eyes dart to Coriolanus and then briefly to his son.

"Excellent; I hope you are enjoying yourself so far," Satyria smiles, playing the hostess flawlessly.

"We are quite comfortable, Lady Click," the woman smiles, nodding, "Your home is very lovely."

"Thank you, Mrs. Plinth," Satyria beams, "My late husband had quite exquisite taste. He designed this entire home himself."

"Oh?" Mrs. Plinth looks genuinely interested, much to Coriolanus's surprise. 

"Yes, he was quite the visionary... We can continue to speak about it after I've made my introductions," Satyria smiles, gesturing towards Coriolanus, "This is my dear friend, Viscount Coriolanus Snow," she gestures less magnificently toward Clemensia, "And this is Lady Clemensia Heavensbee."

"Strabo Plinth," the elder man nods, then motions towards his companions, "My wife and my son."

The woman smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling softly as she looks at Coriolanus, "It is a pleasure to meet all of you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Coriolanus says, taking Mrs. Plinth's hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss against her gloved knuckles, "That is an extraordinary dress, madame. You truly have an eye for fashion."

He wondered which modiste pointed this woman in the direction of this fabric. The poor woman was certainly swindled.

Indeed, it was nothing less than stunning in its design and flow—but it hardly could be the woman's personal taste, he was certain.

Mrs. Plinth flushes lightly, "Thank you, Viscount."

The younger man doesn't hesitate to hold his hand toward Coriolanus when his mother finishes speaking.

Coriolanus glances at the hand held out, slightly appalled by the gesture. Was there no etiquette in the Americas? Nonetheless, he accepts the handshake even if it repulses him to stoop to such a common greeting.

"Sejanus," the man informs. It's another offense—much too informal for a man he's just meeting. Yet Coriolanus forgives the blunder, nodding in return.

"Viscount Snow," he replies. Just because Sejanus was improper hardly meant he had to be.

The small smile that jumps at the corner of Sejanus's lips irritates Coriolanus only slightly, as if Coriolanus's formal introduction amuses him.

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Viscount Snow," Sejanus plays along as if this is some sort of joke and not his actual proper title.

Still, he really needs to make this introduction matter, "The pleasure is all mine." The words drip off his lips with ease as he gives the American a charming smile. He's happy to note the smile causes a momentary pause in Sejanus's own, the barest of flushes staining his cheeks. 

Coriolanus notes that Clemensia and Satyria seem content speaking with Mrs. Plinth, so he feels no guilt in continuing this... private conversation with Sejanus.

"So," Sejanus clears his throat, his eyes darting to the dancers on the floor, "Is there something one must do to get a dance at one of these parties?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Coriolanus frowns slightly, confused by the question. Was he asking him to dance, or was he asking how to ask?

"Am I too forward by asking you for a dance so soon after an introduction, or is it quite acceptable?" Sejanus says, brown meeting blue a bit more confidently this time.

Coriolanus's stomach twists, not from disgust but interest in this blunt newcomer who wasted no time. He wonders briefly if he's being made fun of.

"You wish to dance with me?" Coriolanus asks, needing clarification. He refuses to be made a fool by this man, and the best way to avoid that is to force the man to be painfully transparent with him.

"You're not with someone, right? The Lady... Heavensbee is Hilarius's wife, correct?" Sejanus asks, making sure he's not made a mistake asking an accompanied man to dance.

"She is," Coriolanus nods, "You know Hilarius?"

"Briefly. No more than an-- introduction for business," Sejanus responds frankly, "But, does that mean you are here... alone?"

There's a hint in those words, an inquiry into his status at the party and, more importantly, his marital status.

"I am," Coriolanus responds, "I suppose I can... fit you in for a dance."

Sejanus tilts his head, that irritatingly amused smile on his face again, "Oh, is there a queue already in place?"

The Viscount bites his tongue briefly, "Are you teasing me?"

His eyes crinkle, and his smile only broadens: "I wouldn't dream of teasing you, Viscount."

After a beat of silence, Coriolanus unable to think of a response, the brunet holds out his gloved hand with a warm smile, "So, may I have this dance?"

"You may," Coriolanus finally agrees, placing his hand in Sejanus's outstretched one.

Sejanus grins, allowing the sight of his dimpled cheeks to show to the Viscount. The authenticity of the smile, so warm and unpretentious, brings a flush to Coriolanus's cheeks. He's furious that this practical stranger has forced such a reaction from him. There's never been a time in his life when he's been reduced to-- such ridiculous responses, such as blushing.

He wasn't sure he liked it one bit.

General AU Notes:

1. There's no homophobia in this Regency Era AU. Marrying someone of the same gender isn't uncommon or discouraged. It's normal for these people. 2. Coriolanus is bisexual. I think it's important to point out because it's often hinted at. But, again, it's not uncommon or odd for a man to marry a man or a woman to marry a woman in this AU. BUT, it's also important to note that Coriolanus would marry ANYONE if it meant he'd gain a fortune. 3. Coriolanus is British, Sejanus is American. This is Regency England. There is no Panem in this AU. 4. The one big thing I kept from Canon is that the Snow's are poor but act wealthy (in this AU it's because they hold a title in society).

I'll add more if needed!

[norabrice1701]

Shadow

 A dark!hypnotist Brühl x Fem!Reader AU

Summary: His phantom still lingers. His shadow is always with you.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including heavy dub-con/non-con sexual intercourse); explicit language; social anxiety; manipulative character; morally irredeemable use of hypnosis; reader trauma & distress afterwards; seriously, this is dark

A/N: Before my Sam Neill character spiral continues, wanted to get this one finished! Please heed the warnings on this one - there is very little redeeming about this one.

"Just one more look at you, my heart has been hypnotized"  - "Hypnotized", Years & Years

His voice still haunts you. 

Despite the doctor's reassurances. Despite the mind-numbing medication. Despite your husband's insistence.

His phantom still lingers. His shadow is always with you.

“You’ll never get me out. You’ll never let me go.” 

A shudder courses through you even though you’re safe under the covers of your bed. Cold rain sluices in sluggish waves against the window, and grey light paints your bedroom in shrouded colors. The warmth of your bed covers does little for the pallor of your cheeks, though.

How could it when his fingers still whisper against your skin? When the hellfire of his touch still sears and brands you? 

“Oh, my angel. When the devil wants to dance, do you think you can refuse him?” 

You close your eyes against the persistence of memory. 

The party dragged on for hours now. Even before marriage to your society-pages husband, you found the endless parade of formal events in stuffy mansions tedious. Fortunately, your husband didn’t insist that you stay on his arm all evening, and you could escape to find quiet moments of reprieve. Moments where you could breathe and try to reign in the anxious nerves that always made you uneasy during large social gatherings. 

You’d never been able to explain why crowds made your skin crawl and your heart race. But your parents had heard none of it, and your husband wasn’t willing to listen, either. So instead, you found your own refuge. The heavy mahogany doors of the host’s library were open when you found them, but you closed them swiftly behind you. Mercifully, the din of the party beyond faded, and you reveled in the silence around you. 

The gentle crackle of a dying fire along the opposite wall soothed you as you took deep, calming breaths. For the first time in hours, you felt like you could breathe. Taking steps into the cozy, shadowed room, you scanned the imposing collection of leather-bound volumes, stately bookcases, and plush furniture designed for hours of mental pursuits. A smile tugged at your lips - your first genuine one of the evening. If you could spend all of your evenings tucked away in such a room, you would want for little else. 

You walked up to a bookcase opposite the fireplace, running your fingers along the textured spines. The warmth of the fire danced along your skin as you breathed the comforting scents of old leather and musty paper. All of it soothed your unease, bringing a sense of calm peace that you hadn’t known since arriving on your husband’s arm. 

The heavy door whispered open on a silent hinge, but dark movement caught in your peripheral. You withdrew your hand from the books, ready to make your fearful apologies to the host. You weren’t a thief, and you weren’t snooping - hopefully the host would understand. Except… the man half-veiled in shadow wasn’t the host. 

Honestly, you didn’t recognize him, and you couldn’t discern too much about him. He wore a dark, formal suit as befitting the party, and well-coiffed brown hair crowned his head. The flickering firelight cast handsome, intriguing shadows across his visage, but his glittering brown eyes were worlds unto themselves.

A fearful shiver raced down your spine as you forgot how to breathe, how to move. “I-I’m sorry - please, I wasn’t prying.” 

He shook his head dismissively. “You needn’t apologize to me. This is not my home.” 

You fought the urge to wring your hands under his unnerving stare. “I know, but I… I-.”

“You also needn’t be so nervous.” He walked further into the room, the dark fabric of his suit melting into the surroundings. “In fact, you look positively stricken, and - if I’m being honest - you have all evening.” His voice carried a mellifluous cadence with a lush, deep rasp, and it wrapped around you like velvet. “I would love to help you, if I may.” 

His sharp gaze held yours with focused intensity, and your mouth went dry. You wet your top lip, fumbling for words against a growing fog in your mind. “How did you even know that I was here?” 

The illuminated corner of his mouth lifted, and you instinctively recognized its sinister edge but your body continued to relax as he spoke. “Any man would notice an angel of your beauty taking her leave.” 

Heat flared on your skin despite the weight of your wedding ring that suddenly felt like lead. “I-I’m a married woman.” 

“Then, it is most telling that I found you here while your husband did not.” 

Your head swam and you knew you should leave, but your feet refused to move. You drew another deep breath, unable to look away from him. “If you knew him, then that wouldn’t surprise you.” 

He hummed, the sound low and enticing. “I do know him, and this does not surprise me.” 

His mesmerizing gaze continued to bore through you, and the creepy severity of it flickered in your mind before evaporating just as quick. “Well… I-I don’t know you.” You said, taking a breath of the unnervingly thick and cloying air. “W-who are you?” 

His mouth upturned in fleeting dismissal as he waved an elegant hand, the motion spidery in the dancing firelight. “I am no one of consequence, and my name is… irrelevant.” He took a step forward, staying half-concealed in the shadows and backlit against the fire. “Especially when there are far more interesting pursuits for the course of our conversation.” 

Fear crawled up your spine but you were powerless to heed its warning. You gasped for breath, heart pounding and impossibly dizzy as the fire’s heat burned your skin. What was wrong with you? Had you fallen ill? 

Another discomforting shiver raced through you.

He shook his head gently, the shadows playing over his pale skin. “But this simply won’t do.” He beckoned you forward with a gentle wave of his hand. “Come closer, my angel.” 

Your feet moved without your permission as your eyes saw only him. You shouldn't - you knew that you should run for the door as the scent of his intoxicating cologne filled your nose - but with each passing second, that knowledge faded into oblivion. And the weight of your wedding ring vanished. 

Up close, glints of amber sparkled in his dark eyes. Golden shards that flayed you open and stripped you bare. The force of the thought floored you, warring with a different heat growing on your skin and burning between your legs. 

His mouth curled with an insufferably pleased edge as he continued to look at you. “And now, my angel.” His voice dropped to a low octave, thick and enticing with poisoned honey. “Tell me why this evening has you so unsettled.” 

A drunken haze clouded your thoughts, and you couldn’t summon the will to resist. “I’ve… never liked being around so many people.” 

“And why is that?” His words purred so close to your ear, and his cologne suffocated you. 

“I-I never know what to say. Afraid that I’ll say the wrong thing, afraid that I’ll….”

His fingers brushed your arm, the touch scorching and electrifying and… wrong. "You may be able to hide from everyone else, but not from me." His breath burned the shell of your ear as he spoke. “Tell me.” 

“... A-afraid that I’ll say too much, and… people will judge me for who I am.” You cringed at your admission and the unrelenting, dizzying presence of him. Your body continued to betray the dying protests of your mind, heating under his touch with the ache of arousal. 

Disgust rippled through you but you couldn’t break free. Revulsion flared in your gut as his hand continued to trail up your arm even though your core smoldered with liquid heat. Words formed in your mind to call out for help, but they choked in your throat. 

His lips danced against your ear, his rumbling voice bypassing the last vestiges of your sanity. “The divine does not fear the judgment of mortals, my angel.” A strong hand fell to your waist, drawing you closer, and you inhaled sharply as his words continued to pour into your ear. “Flowers bloom with no regret. Flowers bloom with no fear. And, so should you.” 

The world spun, and you lost your feet. Your back pressed against the plush cushions of the couch under his enveloping weight as the breath knocked from your chest. His touch felt too hot, his skin too soft, his lips too rough. His kiss consumed you, and you struggled to respond. Feebly, you raised a hand to his shoulder, pawing at the fine fabric of his suit. He groaned, the sound captivating and numbing. 

A tear stung your eye as you tried to push him away with deadened movements. Your tongue felt impossibly thick in your mouth as you whimpered. “Please… d-don-.” 

“Oh, my angel,” he rasped with smug satisfaction as the heavy weight of his hand settled to your thigh and crept under your dress. “When the devil wants to dance, do you think you can refuse him?” 

Another whimper passed your lips as his fingers branded your inner-thigh on his journey upward. His groan washed over you in a wave of delirium, and his voice fueled the haze in your mind. “How have you bloomed for me, my angel?” 

You whimpered, shame flaring in your chest as he teased through your dripping folds. He stroked you several times, coating his fingers and letting you feel how thoroughly your body had betrayed you. When he started to stroke with maddening, circling pressure, your hips rocked unbidden into his touch. 

The corner of his mouth lifted, dark and predatory. “No regret, no fear - remember?” 

Another tear stung your eye as his fingers found a delicious rhythm, sending sparks of dark promise up your spine. With each pass, your core ached for satisfaction, drunk on his touch and lost to his words. You didn’t recognize your voice as you moaned for him and clutched his broad shoulders. 

The pressure mounted inside you with alarming speed, but his fingers disappeared all too soon. You gasped for breath, whimpering as you bit back the urge to beg him for more. You didn’t want this - you didn’t want him - you didn’t want his pleasure pulsing through you.  

… Right? 

“Open your eyes, my angel.” His words commanded your obedience, and you squinted against the sharp firelight. 

His beautiful eyes shone black with hunger, his face dark with wicked sin. The flickering golden light caught on his fingers that glistened with your aroused slick. Shame washed over you at the evidence of your unforgivable desire. As if in a dream, you watched his eyes fall to his wet fingers and draw them to his lips. He moaned, savoring your taste for a long moment before he purred with deep-seated satisfaction. “Ripe with such sweet nectar. Divine as I knew you would be.” 

His damp hand moved to yours, bringing it between his legs to press against his straining erection. You gasped as revulsion crawled down your spine. Sluggishly, with arms that didn’t feel like yours, you tried to pull back, but he pressed your hand tighter against him to draw a low moan from his chest before he spoke. “But I am not so callous as to satisfy my own thirst at the expense of my angel’s.” 

Your hand fell limp back to the sofa and the distant shuffling of clothing sounded over the dull buzz in your ears. After all, without his voice, what else was there to hear? He braced himself, pressing against you, and the thick, imposing weight of his cock settled against your soaked entrance. 

He swallowed your cry as he pushed inside, the stretch of him stinging and burning with pained pleasure. Your world reduced to the thick pulse of him inside you, touching the deepest parts of your being. You drew a shaking breath, trembling against his lips. “Oh, God….” 

“Yes,” he breathed. “Call me God - for surely, being inside you must be heaven.” 

His hips rocked back before he surged forward, searing you from the inside out. Your mind splintered and your soul fractured as your body reached new heights with each thrust. Numbly, you clutched at him, and helplessly, you listened to him. “You’ll never get me out.” He growled, filling your body and clouding your mind. “You’ll never let me go.” 

And blindly, you surrendered to him - shattering around the deep press of him in devastating rapture. 

Even now, almost two weeks later, you don’t know how long you had stayed on the sofa afterwards until your husband found you. He said you were stunned and slurring your words, babbling as if drugged. He said you were assaulted, and pressed you for any information about your attacker. He said you were in shock from trauma, and with time, you would find yourself right as rain again. 

But how can that possibly be true? When every time you close your eyes, you see those glittering drops of amber in dark brown seas? When all you hear is his enthralling voice in your mind? His sickening words that roil your stomach and churn shameful arousal in your core? 

You can’t explain it. Perhaps you never will be able to. It’s impossible to understand how one man has so effortlessly taken you apart and rebuilt you in the memory of his shadow. His shadow that lurks at the foot of your bed, beside you, inside you as the medication takes hold.   

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Eubouleus (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The Swine God by the people of Olympius

The Divine Oinker by Hermes

Honey by Barbie

Father by Karme

Pop by Karmanor

Grandpa by his grandkids

Age- 66 (immortal)

Location- Crete, Olympius

Personality- A true blooded cowboy, he embodies traits such as rugged individualism, self-reliance, integrity, courage, loyalty, connection to nature, & stoicism. Much like his symbolic divine animal, he takes pride in his inner strength and perseverance. He's married.

He's the most respected and beloved agricultural deity in the pantheon.

He has the standard abilities of a god. As god of the swine & ploughing his other powers/abilities include edafoskinesis (soil manipulation), being able to telekinetically control farming tools and equipment, fertility manipulation, being able to adopt swine physiology to his physical form, as well as being able to communicate with/shapeshift into all species of suidae- hogs, pigs, swine...

Much like his symbolic divine animal, Eubouleus has poor eyesight. He compensates for this by generally wearing glasses.

He's on his third marriage with his wife- a dryad named Baubo who everyone calls Barbie. Other members of Eubouleus' immediate family includes his son Karmanor (demi-god of the harvest), his daughter Karme (demi-goddess of the harvest), his grandson (and namesake) E.B, & his granddaughters Britomartis (goddess of mountains, hunting, & fishing nets) and Krysothemis (Kristy).

Eubouleus & his wife live in the state of Crete on their MASSIVE farmland estate- measuring several thousand acres! There are several hundreds of employees and farmhands. There's also many farm animals- primarily cattle, swine, & horses.

He and his wife reside in their gorgeous ranch style mansion. The interior design combines both country charm & rustic beauty. Barbie decorated the entire place. There's stone and marble tiled walls, wood ceilings with beams, a stone lined pool & hot tub, decorative animal heads and antlers mounted on the walls, ceramic countertops in the kitchen with light cedarwood cabinets, grand fireplaces, linen, leather, & suede furniture, wood, ceramic, and stone furniture pieces, as well as country themed artwork, framed oil paintings, landscape artwork, abstract artwork, & textured canvas art found throughtout the mansion. Most of the flooring is white oak while the color scheme is cream, beige, khaki, coffee, dusty rose, and olive green.

Eubouleus is fluent in Minoan.

He'll start off his day by riding his horse, a male horse named Ranger through his farmland. He also uses that time to greet all of his employees.

Eubouleus has a laid back sense of style. He doesn't mind wearing a suit, but more often than not, he's most comfortable wearing a pair of boots, jeans, a flannel shirt, & a cowboy hat. There's never a shortage of denim, leather, fringe, belts, hats, and boots in his closet.

He likes the espresso & cafe au laits his wife makes for him with their state-of-the-art coffee machine. He also likes Barbie's homemade sweet tea, water, homemade lemonade, orange juice, his homemade green apple-ginger smoothies, beer, old fashioned cocktails, mint juleps, bourbon punch, apple cider, champagne, good farmer cocktails, and classic martinis.

One of his bad habits is chewing tobacco. He's also fond of smoking cigars.

Throughout Eubouleus' immortal life, he's always held on to the idea of love, in spite of the grief life dealt him. His first wife (his son's father) was a mortal sheep herder who tragically died during childbirth. His second wife (his daughter's mother) was a dryad who died of weeping sickness towards the end of the Titanomachy.

He met Barbie a decade ago at a comedy club in Naxos & the two really hit it off! Their first date was at a square dancing club in Crete and they had their first kiss a couple weeks later at a late night picnic he invited her to on his farm. Eubouleus fondly remembers how Barbie's lips tasted of fig jam.

Bacon is a major part of Eubouleus' diet. A typical breakfast is two packs of crispy bacon with buttermilk biscuits, scrambled eggs (added with peppers & onions), and garlic toast. For lunch, he'll usually make himself a giant BLT sandwich with double the sriracha mayo, double the bacon, and double the pickle chips. A dinner dish can be his famous smoky black bean-bacon chili.

He loves everything about his wife. Her confidence, her full figure, her infectious smile & laugh, her gorgeous hazel green eyes, and her gut bursting sense of humor.

They were married a year or so later in Achaea on the farm of his best friend Cyamites (god of beans). His son's children (who were toddlers) served as the flower girl & ringbearer. Karmanor was Eubouleus' koumbaro or best man while Karme was Barbie's koumbara or maid of honor. Zeuxo (goddess of marriage) was the officiant during the ceremony as well as the wedding planner. Other guests in attendance included Hera (goddess of women & marriage), Naeus (god of weddings), as well as other agricultural deities like Demeter (goddess of the harvest & agriculture), Triptolemus (god of farming), Pherusa (goddess of substance & farm estates), Eunostos (goddess of the flour mill), Trochilus (god of the mill wheel), and Promylaia.

The reception was a wild ride! There was a mechanical bull for the guests to ride with the menu having banana pudding parfaits, various jarred fruit pies, bacon wrapped crispy green beans, a chicken & waffles station, mini shrimp and grits, as well as a main entree of fried chicken, garlic & thyme mashed potatoes, baked mac n' cheese, and moussaka. The wedding cake was a seven tiered hummingbird cake covered in pear flavored fondant & decorated with frosted marigolds.

A guilty pleasure for him is the olympian burger from Olympic Chef with extra bacon.

Eubouleus has a great relationship with his kids. Everytime he and Barbie travels to New Olympus, they'll stay with Karmanor & his kids. He's proud of the initiative Karme displayed when handling the business of his company The Swinery- the largest meat and cold cut producer in Olympius. The business (valued at almost 1.5 billion drachmas) is an agricultural powerhouse that also has interests in farming, ranching & cattle production, food processing, and phosphate mining.

He enjoys the time he gets to spend with Britomartis at her houseboat- like fishing, hunting, & roasting marshmallows to make s'mores.

Eubouleus has been nothing but supportive with his wife's foray into becoming a stand up comedienne!

His favorite frozen treat is the homemade hummingbird ice cream he makes. Eubouleus adds crushed waffle cone pieces to it.

The pork tenderlion salad with extra teriyaki dressing is his favorite thing to get at The Bread Box.

Eubouleus' friendship with Cyamites is more like a brotherhood. They talk on the phone daily and he's always visiting him in Eleusis. He finds Cyamites' flavorful white bean dip to be addictive! He's been helping his best friend get back into the dating scene.

He's a HUGE fan of the Olympic Derby, the most premier & popular horse/hippocampus racing event in Olympius and the Underwater realm.

In the pantheon Eubouleus is also good friends with Hecaterus (Titan god of manual labor), Anchiale (Titaness of fire), & Logos (god of stories).

Some of his favorite desserts include his daughter's peach bourbon upside-down bundt cake, his son's pecan pie, as well as his wife's hummingbird cake and buttermilk pie.

Eubouleus often treats his employees on the farm by inviting them to the weekly barbeque he hosts & by taking a few of them out to eat to a well known and popular Minoan restaurant- known for their dishes like grilled cuttleflish with asparagus, pork posole, sopes, red rice, & elote.

He, Barbie, Cyamites, Anchiale, and Hecaterus once competed in an apple bobbing contest during the Raki Distillery Festival in Naxos.

Eubouleus loves tuning in to Spíti & Estía, the home improvement TV show hosted by Ktesios (god of the household) and Hestia (goddess of the hearth).

His all time favorite meal is his thick & hearty stifado with cornbread and roasted potatoes.

In his free time Eubouleus enjoys gardening, swimming, football (soccer), bull riding, hiking, surfing, golf, reading, cooking, baseball, poker, baking, and playing pool.

"You can't fatten the pig on market day."

[minecraftbookshelf]

Marriage of State: The King of Rivendell

Xornoth only really has one look throughout the AU, with a few minor variations and, of course, The Armor Edition TM.

Once again the primary sources for inspiration are the skin for the character in question and the architectural style of their home empire, in this case, Rivendell. Rivendell also draws (canonically) on Tolkein's elves, though only incidentally. I've opted to take that and run with it so the original Rivendell, and other elements of Lord of the Rings, both elvish and mortal, are incorporated. The other major contributors are viking-era Scandinavia, and Rohan, also from lotr.

The Elf Xornoth skin is a recolored version of Scott's base Rivendell skin with a few other minor changes (one shoulder cape, long pants)

Technically speaking the Demon Xornoth skin isn't super relevant to their design for the AU, but I wanted to throw it on here anyway, as something to keep in mind.

So the easiest way of doing this is going to be top to toe I think so we'll start with the antlers!

There are three main points (no pun intended) regarding Xornoth's antlers.

They are probably not as big as you think they are, because Xornoth has only had two or three sheds. They are adult antlers, but young adult antlers.

For antler design I've based them off of Scottish Red Deer.

They are made of obsidian and have been ever since Xornoth first allowed Exor into their head.

Under the antlers, Xornoth has magenta hair (just past shoulder length with the slightest bit of curl) and eyes, though the eyes tend to be a bit pinker when they are having A MomentTM

They do wear jewelry but its usually fairly simple. Earrings, an antler ring or two. They only wear their crown when they absolutely have to.

Their wings are Snowy Owl wings

specifically, snowy owl wings with a higher proportion of black on them, as in the images above, especially the one on the right.

-

Xornoth tends to dress relatively utilitarian as well, in dark colors that stand out among the blues most common in Rivendell, they usually wear black and autumn colors.

As far as style goes, the heaviest inspiration is the lord of the rings films, specifically simpler elvish styles, such as those worn by Legolas, especially in Rivendell or Lothlorien. (The main thing coming from the actual Xornoth skin is the single conclusion of "knee high boots") But with embroidery more akin to what you see in Rohan where it contrasts rather than blends in

Like so.

Rivendell has a lot of embroidery and knotwork incorporated into their clothes, a lot of it with gold-thread as well. Especially for royalty.

Xornoth does wear a cloak, it is designed to be fairly easy to remove for flying reasons, but is a sturdy and warm piece of clothing regardless, due to Xornoth being cold all the time.

Their armor is netherite, in style its basically just this

When Xornoth is older and starts wearing longer robes more often (currently only when they absolutely have to at extremely formal occasions) they will basically just be dressing like Elrond. Color pallet and style and all.

They also usually have at least one sword on them, often two.

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Lizzie || Jimmy || Joel ||

-

Art

Lizzie || Jimmy || Jimmy Eeveelution

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Halloween AU Oneshot – Bloodthirst.

Read on AO3 / Tumblr / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“How did a bat get in here?” / "I told you I would die for you and the children without a second’s hesitation, didn’t I?"

Spending the afternoon yachting out on Lake Tahoe with your family should have gone as blissful as it always has, only to result in the worst nightmare of your life. In the midst of a freak accident with your lives in danger, you and Michael fight to ensure the safety of your children but cannot do the same for one another. The ultimate sacrifice made for family has been prompted by a single bat who has marked Michael as its next host, raising your husband from the dead as a bloodthirsty monster far beyond the reach of humanity.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy angst / Mentions & themes of smut / Alcohol use / Major traumatic accident / Graphic themes & depictions of injury and blood / Themes & depictions of death / Major character death / Vampirism / Graphic mention of trauma & grief / Blood sucking.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Happy Halloween!! 👻🎃 What else says "horror" and "terror" like the most agonizingly angsty oneshot of Moth to Flame of all time? 😏 Playing on the themes of "what if Michael Corleone was a vampire?" 🩸 this Halloween AU takes a heartwrenching twist. I'm not joking when I say bring your tissues, this AU oneshot is designed to cause heartache. 👀

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

“Boooooat! Boat, boat!” James points at the luxury yacht by the docks excitedly, thrilled just by the sight of it. “Boat, mama!”

“Yes, that’s right!” You beam, holding little James in your arms and gesturing back to the yacht. “It’s a very big boat, isn’t it? That’s called a yacht.

“Ya? Ya, ya. Boooooat. Yaaaaa…” Two years old and beginning to learn most of his words, James’ pronunciation of yacht makes you giggle.

“Funny word, right? Yacht!” Niccolo’s voice rings out as he steps out of the boathouse behind the two of you with Verona next to him, both with their lifejackets properly worn and strapped onto them. 

“Ooh, there you two are at last.” You turn back to face your children, noticing their life jackets on. “All ready to go?”

“Ready, ready!” Verona nods happily.

“Perfect.” You move over, patting both of their lifejackets to ensure nothing’s out of place. “Better safe than anything else. Remember what daddy and I said about safety on the yacht, right guys?”

“Yes, mama.” Both twins say back at the same time.

“Always keep your lifejacket on right up until we’re done with our trip and off the docks, okay?” You remind them gently. “Best to be completely away from the water when we do so, just in case. We don’t want to have any accidents and we want to keep each other safe.”

“Jaaaaaa!” James shrieks, making a squeezing gesture with his hand toward the twins’ life jackets. 

“I think he wants to come too!” Verona lets her little brother squish her life jacket with his tiny, chubby hands. 

“When can Vincent and James join us, mama?” Niccolo asks, holding his baby brother’s hand. “They can have some fun too!”

“Oh, without a doubt, but they’re just a little too young right now.” You tell them, ruffling James’ soft hair. “When both of them turn five years old which was the same for the two of you, then they can join us. No moving boats for the little guys for now.”

“Yeah, he’s just a little baby!” Verona exclaims, kissing her baby brother’s forehead. “A little baby.” 

Niccolo grins playfully, looking back over at the yacht by the docks. “Then me and Verona will help them with their lifejackets and how to spot the best fish in the water.”

“That sounds like a plan,” you laugh softly. “But for now…” You give James a kiss on both of his chubby cheeks. “It’s time for this little one to take his afternoon nap before he gets cranky.”

“Maaaaaa…” James coos, resting his head over your shoulder.

“Oh, perfect timing.” You giggle, rubbing James’ back. “He’s a tired little guy. Alright,” you glance back at the twins, pointing to the yacht. “You two can go to the docks and see Mr. Neri and Tom, okay? They’ll help you both get on and your daddy’s already on board. I’m just gonna head inside and get James ready for his nap with Esther, then double-check on Vincent.”

“Okay, mama!” The twins beam.

“We’ll go see daddy!” Verona decides, nodding at Niccolo before the two begin to rush off excitedly toward the docks.

“Be safe!” You call back out, noting the distance of the docks to how fast the twins are running off. “And remember, no running near the docks!”

“Yes, mama!” You notice the twins beginning to slow down as they approach the docks, returning to a walking pace as you begin to walk off toward the central family estate. 

The last thing you notice by the docks before you turn your attention back to the family estate is Michael’s men and security preparing the yacht to sail, marking another monthly trip of going boating with the children around the lake today.

Every now and then, Tom and Sonny join you, Michael, and the children as well to do some fishing and teach the twins some new tricks as you all enjoy the waters and weather of Lake Tahoe and have lunch as a family on deck.

The monthly yacht trips have always been a perfect way to spend time together as a family, not to mention just how much the twins have been anticipating it since they were five years old—now nine, with their little brother Vincent three years old and James having just turned two years old.

On the deck of the yacht, Michael’s dressed in a wine-red dress shirt and grey dress trousers—no tie or suit jacket, hair very lightly gelled and combed back; rather casual and relaxed for this afternoon’s boating trip on his day off.

Michael walks into the maintenance room with Sonny, keeping both hands in the pockets of his trousers as he oversees the maintenance of the yacht being prepped for the day; fuel being checked and machinery working before the yacht can depart from the docks.

“You won’t believe this, Mike,” Sonny grumbles out of annoyance, leading his brother into the maintenance room. “I’m telling you, why the hell do we even hire these guys? I swear I’m going to get Tom to look into this tonight, I’m fucking tired. I want new guys—experts, professionals—whatever the fuck you call it on this damn yacht. And here I thought something actually happened, but instead, they call me in like, ‘oh, there’s a bat in the maintenance room!’. These assholes aren’t afraid to shoot another man between the eyes but shit themselves over a bat. A fucking bat!”

“A bat?” Michael furrows his brows, stepping inside the maintenance room to see two of the yacht’s workers awkwardly standing by the wall, as far away as they can be from the corner of the room. 

“How did a bat get in here?” Michael follows where Sonny points up to the corner of the room, seeing a little bat huddled in the corner and hanging upside down a stack of loose rope. 

“The fuck would I know?” Sonny sighs, crossing his arms. “They say it’s been here for a few days and won’t get out. They threw stuff at it or whatever even tried to shoo it away with a broom but nothing. A bat. A fucking bat.” Sonny turns to scowl at the two workers.

“Right.” Michael murmurs, “and we’re delayed because of this?” 

It’s Michael’s comment alone that his employees look utterly embarrassed, not any of Sonny’s dirty looks.

“You might want to let Tom know, then.” Michael hints at getting new hires to Sonny, preferably ones not afraid of getting a bat out of the maintenance room for the past three days. “I don’t care how the creature ended up in here but it’s clearly due to neglect and improper care. This door should be sealed shut at all times with only authorized personnel inside. Why was it left open for any reason, and enough for an animal to come in?”

“There’s no damage done, sir.” One of the maintenance workers says, absolutely wrong. “The animal’s just been very defensive and refusing to move at all.”

“It’s territorial.” Michael clarifies, “assuming this is its new home and it may as well be because of how much time he’s spent in here.” Instant annoyance befalls Michael’s expression. 

While there’s no apparent issue causing wires to rip, or anything dented or out of the place, the bat has most definitely tampered with some pipes and wires for the past few days—gnawing and scratching on them behind the machinery that one would have to push aside to see. 

Seemingly harmless, the bat has actually done enough damage to the yacht’s machinery that is unbeknownst to everyone else.

“Please,” Michael rolls his eyes and takes a step forward towards the bat.

The bat immediately makes eye contact with Michael, hissing loudly out of defense but Michael is neither phased nor does he care.

“SHOO!” Michael swats his hand toward the bat, causing it to fly around and the maintenance worker employees to stumble back into each other out of fear as the bat begins to fly around.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sonny ducks his head to avoid the bat.

Michael remains still, continuing to wave off the bat that flies behind his head and without Michael noticing or feeling a thing, nips the back of his head before flying out of the maintenance room. 

“Afraid of a bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as he notices the bat fly off the yacht entirely, now facing his employees. “I expect everything to be perfect and ready to go now, understood? My family is about to board and we will be sailing out soon.”

“No more bullshit and fuckin’ around.” Sonny narrows his eyes at the workers. 

“Uh, yes, sir.” The men agree sheepishly, appearing utterly embarrassed.

“Good.” Michael brushes off his hands, stepping out of the maintenance room with Sonny following behind as he sees the twins approaching the docks now.

“Daddy!” Verona and Niccolo chime together as Tom and Al Neri help them board the yacht.

“Hello you two,” Michael gives his children a small smile, rubbing both of their shoulders as they rush up to their father to hug him. “Both of you look ready, lifejackets on. Good. We all want to keep each other safe.”

“Will you and mama wear one too?” Niccolo asks. 

“Of course, we will,” Michael nods back, “let’s wait for your mother to get here with us so we can get ready and sail out.” 

“Mama is putting James to sleep.” Verona happily peeks over to the family estate in the distance. “And mama says when Vincent and James turn five, they can join us!”

“She’s right.” Michael agrees, “because for now, they’re too little to be on the yacht…” Michael’s words trail off as he spots you stepping out of the family estate, beginning to make your way toward the docks. “No running on the yacht, please, alright?”

“Okay, daddy.” The twins agree, exchanging excited glances with one another before heading inside the yacht’s living room to play.  

Michael slips his hands back into his pockets, taking a few steps towards the docks to approach you arriving at the yacht. 

As Tom has already boarded, Al Neri is the only one left by the docks who takes a polite step back as Michael extends his hand down the steps to you to help you up. 

“Hi, baby.” You blush, taking Michael’s hand and coming up.

“Hi, love.” Michael carefully pulls you onto the yacht before giving the back of your hand a kiss. “How are my boys?”

“Both fast asleep in the best possible afternoon naps they can have.” You chuckle. “Do I even need to ask how the twins are?” 

You and Michael can both hear faint giggles coming inside the yacht.

“No, I don’t think so.” You notice a faint, amused smile on Michael’s lips. “They’re excited as always.”

“Perfect.” You let out a sigh of relief, smiling as you look around the yacht’s deck. “We’ll take a tour around the lake and then have lunch in an hour or two?”

“Mhmm, just as we planned.” Michael agrees, holding your hand. “Unlike last month, the weather’s behaving today. No need to have our meal inside like the last time.”

“I agree.” You blush, letting your eyes greedily dart up and down Michael’s outfit for today.

“Alright,” Michael turns towards the back of the yacht, making eye contact with one of his men before nodding. “We’re ready to get moving.” Michael faces you again, squeezing your hand. “Come inside with me, baby. We’re about to set sail.”

Michael and you enter the spacious, living area of the yacht where Sonny’s already seated on one of the couches, grinning at the twins playing with miniature figures of the yacht.

Niccolo and Verona run in circles around each other, pretending to set sail with their figures and dolls. “Wheeee, wheee!”

“Last call to board The Banana!” Niccolo exclaims, holding up his yacht figure. 

“The Banana?” Michael raises a brow, taking a seat next to you on the velvet loveseat. “The boat’s name is The Banana?”

“Yep, mine is!” Niccolo giggles, “we only offer round trips to Banana Island.”

“Banana Island,” you laugh, shaking your head. “How nice. I should visit sometime.” 

“You could, mama!” Niccolo proudly holds up his yacht figure. “It’s for very special guests.”

“Mine too!” Verona claims, picking up her little boat figure. “Except mine goes to Cannoli Island, so I call this one the Cannoli Boat.”

“There you go, we have a lot of options.” Michael jokes.

“You bet.” Sonny chuckles, relaxing against the couch. “Finally taking off, eh?”

“Mhmm.” Michael’s aware Sonny’s hinting at the bat-in-the-maintenance-room fiasco earlier, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you all feel the yacht begin to move.

You exhale deeply, feeling completely calm and relaxed as you snuggle up to Michael’s arm—smiling and watching your children play with their toys. 

“Okay, lovebirds.” Sonny claps his hand, sitting up. “I don’t know about the two of you all cuddled up there but I’m fixing myself a drink. Anyone in?”

“Not going to wait until we’re fully off?” Michael asks as Sonny rises from his seat, walking towards the minibar at the end of the room.

“I don’t get seasick for starters.” Sonny points out. “And second, I need a drink.”

“Hmm, I don’t think I get seasick either.” You peek up at Michael.

“If you do, you’re sure it’s not something else?” Michael teases, placing a hand over your stomach.

You flush red, giggling and avoiding Michael’s eyes out of embarrassment. “Maybe. It’s a little too soon, don’t you think?” 

You know all too well Michael would love yet another child even though you had James about two years ago now, being your fourth but nobody said anything against a fifth after all.

“Up to you, darling.” Michael pecks a sweet kiss over your lips.

“Just in case anyone changes their mind,” Sonny returns, setting a bottle of chilled white wine on the table with three wine glasses.

“Ooh, white wine for today, huh?” You know Sonny’s choice of alcohol has always been beyond any kind of wine.

“Let’s just say I also acquired different tastes besides rum and whiskey,” Sonny smirks, moving his wine glass over to him on the coffee table and pouring himself half a glass. “Now I’m just wondering if this damn thing will move.”

“What do you mean?” Your curiosity is raised as you glance back and forth at Michael and Sonny. 

“The yacht needs new administration.” Michael clarifies, placing his hand over your thigh. “Seems the current one isn’t competent enough.”

“Yeah,” Sonny rolls his eyes, taking a gulp of his wine. “Can you believe they had a goddamn bat camping out in the maintenance room? Grown men were shitting their pants over it.”

“A bat?” You raise your brows, giggling. “Must have been a hell of a bat if it caused that much trouble.”

“I was going to say, but…” Sonny sets his wine glass down, “when I walked in and saw this tiny little bat, I just got more pissed off. From the way the guys were talkin’, I thought I’d see this freakish thing covered in blood or whatever. Then fine, I get it, but this bat was in there for three days.”

“Hmm.” You purse your lips, peeking up at Michael. “Whatever you think is best, baby. I’m with you.”

“I look further into it after this trip.” Michael nods, “although yes, I can feel the yacht is moving much slower than usual.”

“God.” Sonny groans, taking another swig of his wine. “You know what… No.” He’s quick to set his glass back down again, almost spilling some wine. “No, this is annoying me. I’m going to go check it out because now we’re on the goddamn water.”

“Might as well.” Michael shrugs, watching his older brother practically storm out to the deck. 

“Is everything okay, baby?” You place your hand over top of Michael’s on your thigh. 

“Everything’s fine, baby.” Michael kisses your cheek. “Just fine. It’s just that this administration change is a must.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the best in Nevada to fill any vacant positions, hmm?” You giggle, kissing Michael’s shoulder before resting your head on it.

“That I can,” Michael agrees, “and they’ll have to be only the best.” He moves his hand to brush back a curtain of your hair behind your ear. 

Your cheeks flush a shade of scarlet as you notice Michael’s eyes still over yours, gazing lovingly at you. 

You feel the same rush of butterflies racing in the pit of your stomach as you always have for the past nine years married to this man—nothing’s ever changed, keeping the honeymoon phase in your marriage eternal.

Even sharing little moments of love and affection like this, feels blissful and euphoric to you in more ways than one—reveling in this sense of trust and love.

“You, me, the twins…” You sigh softly, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “Trip out on the lake… It’s perfect, you know? It’s my favorite pastime.”

“Anything for you, darling.” Michael tilts your chin up gently, kissing your lips but keeping it appropriate due to the children being nearby.

The twins look over before giggling quietly amongst one another, quite aware of just how much their parents love one another.

“And I have you all to myself today, hmm? Not many can say that, like your business partners.” You tease. “Because if I remember correctly, you had a business meeting in place today, right?”

“Does it matter?” Michael asks back.

“Doesn’t it?” You blink, raising your brows.

“Not at all. I make time for my wife and children as much as I need and as much as I want.” Michael takes both of your hands in his, kissing each.

“And I love you for that,” you tell him back.

“And once we get back…” Michael refers to going back home, “we’ll have to finish what we started.”

“Right.” You bite down on your lip, holding back your eagerness as you remember how the two of you almost ended up late for breakfast while making love first thing n the morning for almost half an hour. “Finish or continue?”

“We’ll see.” Michael chuckles, a small silence following after his words—simply lost while gazing into each other’s eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You feel your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Just as Michael leans over to give you another kiss, Sonny practically barges back inside, calling out for Michael. “Hey, Mike!”

Michael rolls his eyes, appearing instantly annoyed as he pulls away from you and looks back. “Yes?”

Instead of a look of amusement or excitement on Sonny’s face, it’s bewilderment and shock. “You’re gonna wanna see. This isn’t good.”

A look of concern and alarm crosses your expression, but Michael’s quick to shake his head back at you for reassurance. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll go see what’s going on, alright?”

“Okay.” You reply back, a little nervous but Michael’s coolness reassures you nonetheless.

“What is it this time?” Michael whispers to Sonny before both of them exit the yacht.

You can’t hear Sonny’s reply as he doesn’t speak to Michael until both are out of your sight, but you do hear a faint “the yacht is absolutely fucked” just a few seconds before the door closes which lights anxiety inside you.

You glance back over at the twins nervously, attempting to distract yourself by watching them play together—feeling the warmth of Michael fading off your hands already.

~

“What the hell is this?” Michael hisses, unable to push down his irritancy any longer as he walks into the maintenance room.

Both of his yacht employees frantically rush around, trying to stop sparking wires and puffs of dark smoke coming from the yacht’s machinery.

“It’s the fucking bat, huh?” Sonny scowls, gesturing around at the mechanical mess. “Something tore all of this up and nothing’s responding. We need to manually turn the yacht back. We’re far enough.”

“Great.” Michael’s eyes quickly dart over the malfunctioning machinery, proving imminent danger. “Only there’s no time for that now.” 

Michael’s eyes find only one lifejacket by the door, seeing another one torn to shreds by an animal beside it.

Immediately with intentions of giving you and only you the remaining, intact lifejacket, Michael grabs it. “We need to evacuate immediately. Call SOS back to the boathouse and Sonny, and get the life rafts out with Tom. We’re getting off the yacht.” 

Before Michael nor Sonny can react, they both hear a loud clunk of machinery coming from the top of the yacht—enough to startle both you and the twins inside.

“Mama, what’s going on?” Niccolo looks up at the ceiling in worry as he and Verona drop their toys. 

“Is the boat okay?” Verona furrows her brows in confusion. 

“I’m not sure, sweetheart.” You get off the loveseat, moving closer to the twins to comfort them. “Daddy’s checking on it right now with Uncle Sonny.”

Without wasting a moment further of time, Sonny sprints off from the maintenance room to do as Michael said—finding Tom on the other end of the yacht first.

Michael steps out after Sonny only to see more electrical wires beginning to burst from the sides and top of the maintenance room—feeling the yacht heat up in danger of a potential electrical fire.

Now completely alert for danger but calm instead of panicked, Michael runs back into the yacht carrying the life jacket in his hands as both you and the twins huddled in your arms stare up at him with terrified anticipation.

“Michael?” You feel your voice shake from fear, “what’s going on out there?”

“There’s an—” Michael lunges away from the door, bracing himself as a small explosion can be heard not far from the maintenance room, causing a fire to start. “Electrical fire. Something’s not right in the maintenance room and we’re getting out of here immediately.” 

Michael doesn’t bother to just hand you the lifejacket, he puts it over you securely and straps it on quickly, taking both of the twins’ hands to lead them out. “Come on, we’re going right now. We’re getting off the yacht.”

“We have to go?” Niccolo asks, panicked.

“Yes, yes, honey, we do.” You attempt to keep your voice steady, smoothening out your life jacket and following Michael and the children out to the deck. “Don’t worry, we’re all going to get off safe and sound right away—Michael? Your lifejacket?” Your eyes widen as you just notice now Michael isn’t wearing one.

“Forget about it,” Michael shakes his head, “there was only one. Come on—quickly! There’s no time to waste.”

“Mike! Victoria!” You both hear Tom call out from the side of the yacht. “Over here! We’ve got the life rafts out and we’re evacuating now!”

“Go, go, go,” Michael coaxes and gently nudges the twins over to the sound of Tom’s voice. “Listen to both of your uncles, do you understand? They’re going to keep you safe and help you off—stay near them at all costs.”

“Over here, you two! Come on now!” Sonny reaches and hops back up onto the yacht, extending his hands out to the twins as he’ll lower them down onto the life raft Tom is on. 

“What about you and mama?” Verona’s eyes tear up.

“We’ll be fine, honey! We’re going on the next life raft, okay?” You smile weakly at your daughter, watching Sonny help Niccolo get down on the life raft as Verona’s next. “Be good and just please listen to your uncles! They know best.” 

Your eyes sting with tears as you watch both of the twins get safely lowered onto the life raft with Tom and Sonny as the yacht begins to shake and the deck grows more unstable by the minute.

Michael adjusts your lifejacket to ensure it’s on you properly; his eyes widen to see even more wires and pipes beginning to burst loose from the top of the yacht—just above the living room, you were all in which signals another explosion to come.

The twins’ life raft moving steadily away from the yacht is the last thing you see before you hear Michael yell out, “VICTORIA!”

Snatching you in his arms, Michael uses every ounce of strength in his body to forcefully pull you to his side just before a massive chunk of shrapnel coming off the yacht bursts in the direction you were just standing in.

“M-Michael!” You cry out, clinging onto your husband for life, “what’s going on!? Oh my God!”

“Another raft is coming, baby.” Michael puts both of his hands on your shoulders firmly, “and you will get on it, do you understand me?!”

“I—” Your eyes widen in horror to see water beginning to flood the deck of the yacht now, seeping into every room and door around instantly.

The yacht’s in the middle of Lake Tahoe but still at a distance where you and Michael can see the compound—unfortunately much too far to swim back to without the risk of drowning or fatigue in the water.

“Victoria,” Michael grabs your attention again, looking into your eyes. “Do as I say, baby. We’re getting off this yacht now and we need to act fast.”

“Okay, okay!” You nod at Michael frantically, “but you’re coming with—”

“I’m the last one getting off this thing—you and the twins are going first!” Michael demands.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” You shriek back, bursting into tears. “The yacht’s coming apart as we speak—” 

You scream, seeing the railing off the top of the yacht begins to melt from the flames of the electrical fire and move downward—one ton of hot melted metal threatening to hit both of you.

There’s not nearly enough space to safely hold you back from the yacht bursting and coming apart from all sides due to the spreading of fire and electrical malfunctions from one machine to the next.

Michael pushes you to the other side of the yacht to separate himself from you, preventing the hot metal pieces of the railing from hitting both of you.

As soon as the scorching piece of metal hits the deck, it splits the wood into two as water begins to sprout up from the inside out.

Separated from Michael and on opposite sides of the yacht from the destruction in the middle, fire alarms ring within the yacht, and sprinklers go off, coupled with steam and black smoke now riddling the air from all sides.

You cough, barely regaining your balance and holding onto the only intact side railing of the yacht left as cold water begins to rush over you from the lake violently rocking the unstable yacht. 

“VICTORIA! Hold on!” Michael jumps forward over the pile of melted metal, grabbing your hand just as you’re about to slip and possibly be thrown back to the other end of the sinking yacht.

You cough, sputtering out the cold water you got a face full of as you hold onto Michael for dear life—seeing your husband soaked from head to toe as well.

“Don’t let g-go,” you whimper, shuddering and barely able to hold onto Michael’s hand yourself.

“I’m not, baby.” Michael pants, “I’m never letting go.” 

Michael’s eyes trail up to see the last chunk of the top of the yacht coming apart, even bigger than the last and threatening to tip down. 

“Listen to me, baby,” Michael’s voice is filled with urgency, “another life raft is coming from the side there with Tom and Sonny. Get on it as soon as possible and get off this damned yacht no matter what. Get back to the compound with the twins and—”

“No, you have to come with me!” You sob, shaking your head. “Come with me on the raft—”

“There’s no more left, baby.” Michael shakes his head, “don’t worry about me, I’m not staying on here a moment longer than I have to.”

“Michael!” Another wave of water coming from the other end of the yacht rushes over you; a powerful current threatening to violently throw you back off your feet with your dress fully soaked and your heels long gone off your feet by now.

Michael grunts, holding onto both of your hands to keep you steady as he senses another explosion nearby beginning to spark up. “Listen to me, baby. There isn’t much time now—this fucking thing is going to blow and—” Michael breathes heavily, clamping his free hand onto the solid railing next to you for support. “Hold on and get down to the raft. Just trust me, okay?! I have to let your hand go to do this, just save yourself and—”

BOOM! Another loud explosion occurs from the top middle of the yacht, tipping over ten tons of metal right towards the both of you in the middle.

“Take care of yourself and the twins, baby.” Michael looks into your teary eyes and although in a state of shock and denial, you see the acceptance of fate in your husband’s gaze. “I love you, Victoria.”

Michael lets go of your hand and move back as you clutch onto the railing, screaming at the top of your lungs as the ten tons of hot metal lands between the two of you with a horrific thud.

Had Michael not let go of you, your arm would have been torn and severed off from the metal or crushed Michael’s body entirely if he didn’t move back. 

The impact of the explosion’s burst and the metal racking the yacht send both you and Michael flying to the opposite ends of the yacht.

Your screams are muffled by a rushing wave of water engulfing you, sinking you towards the end of the yacht as your body gives into exhaustion from the force.

Michael’s body skids over the deck washed away from the powerful current of the water but towards the worst impact of the explosion over the yacht.

The fabric of Michael’s dress shirt misses getting caught on the side railing of the yacht by half an inch which would have stopped Michael from sliding down any further.

Within the blink of an eye as Michael grunts, sliding over the other end of the yacht submerged under water before holding his breath and pulling his head out of the water, Michael hits the side of his neck over a chunk of the yacht’s shrapnel sticking out—instantly breaking his neck and killing him.

Everything’s faded to black for both of you.

~

The only thing you can see, feel, taste, and remember are the waters of Lake Tahoe; the very glistening, gorgeous waters you learned how to fish in, swam in and explored dozens and dozens of times on the yacht.

The very view of Lake Tahoe accompanied your morning and night from all sides of the compound no matter where you were, beautiful in so many ways but now it is the very reason why you’re fighting for your life.

The waters of the lake hit you back and forth, rocking your body like a ragdoll in the current—rendering you completely helpless.

Water also strongly rushes over each side of the yacht that struggles to make it back towards the compound but nonetheless is about to malfunction and break down completely. 

Finally, with all wires burst and electrical fires put out by the water, the yacht comes to a creaking halt only a few hundred yards from the docks where Michael’s men, security, and anyone with helping hands frantically rushes to help—hollering for lifejackets, rafts, ropes, and concern but you and Michael are unable to hear nor react to them.

Water gave you enough of a beating within seconds, going down your throat and causing your mouth to burn bitterly. 

You were unable to breathe properly half of the time, constantly gasping for air in your weakened lungs.

Your body was constantly being slammed back against the railings of the yacht and other various pieces of loose, hanging metal causing several, deep bruises to scatter over your body.

Once the yacht finally came to a halt, half destroyed and only a health hazard, you hit your back with a thud against the outer wall of the maintenance room and sat there slumped—half submerged in water.

You would have otherwise passed out right then and there, but the impact was just enough to wake you and slam water out of your chest by force.

You cough hoarsely, attempting to open your stinging eyes as you vomit and sputter out water all over yourself.

Whimpering, you rub your eyes with shaky, balled-up fists before trying to force the open and let out a weak scream.

You wince, opening your eyes to see your index finger’s nail almost completely broken off, bleeding and throbbing in pain.

Around you, you can see there’s about a knee-length worth of water around the yacht if you stood, but your legs refuse to obey you—feeling dragged down. 

You vomit up more water, hunch over to the side, and are almost about to fall face-first into the water but your shaky hands manage to pull you up on your feet.

You breathe in and out, focused on getting all the water out of your system before moving or doing anything else first.

Once you feel there isn’t another drop of water to cough out and clear out of your chest and throat, you give your eyes another rub and blink to see clearly around you.

Although your eardrums throb from the impact of the water, you can still hear just fine and can’t mistake the blaring alarms from the compound for anything else—seeing Michael’s men at a distance from the compound.

“M-Michael,” you croak out, beginning to crawl through the water as if your legs were held down by concrete. “Michael?” You call out louder, surprised you still have a voice. “N-Niccolo? Verona?”

Whimpering from pain, you look around you on the yacht and can’t see or hear anyone else surrounding you.

Looking down at your body, you notice fresh cuts on your upper arm, and your dress skirt was torn in half revealing fresh forming bruises riddled over your thighs.

It’s as if life was beaten out of you, but the strength and perseverance inside of you push you to keep moving over the yacht.

“My… My babies… My…” Your eyes widen in horror as you spot Michael’s body on the other end of the yacht—lying face-first in the water. “MICHAEL!” You scream, feeling every bit of strength you didn’t know you had instantly returned to you at the sight of your husband.

You assume Michael must have passed out just like you, but the fact he has his face submerged under water panic you knowing he’s in the process of drowning. 

You get up from your knees, running through the water and splashing your way over to Michael. “MICHAEL! Michael!” You collapse yet again in the water next to him.

“VICTORIA!? Victoria?!” You hear Tom’s voice hollering from a distance, moving to the yacht with another life raft next to Sonny. “Is that you?! We got help! We’re here!”

“Y-yes, it’s me! It’s me!” You shriek back, waving your arms up in the air. “Please, I’m here with Michael!”

“We’re coming!” Sonny calls back, “just hold on tight!”

“Michael, please!” You quickly flip your husband over, seeing his soaked body. 

“Oh my G-God, my baby!” Your hands tremble as you cup Michael’s wet face out of the water, giving it a few lights slaps to wake him. “Come on baby, it’s okay. I’m here! Come on! Michael, wake up!” 

You pat Michael’s cheeks, beginning to grow all the more anxious and nervous as you shake his body. “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Where’s Michael?!” Tom shouts, getting closer to the yacht as Sonny throws a rope over the railings. 

“Here’s here with me but—but Tom, he’s not responding!” You sob, shaking Michael’s shoulders frantically. “Michael, baby!” You hold Michael’s body out of the water, pulling him onto your lap. “Come on!”

Tom and Sonny hop over the railing, holding on tightly to the ropes but instantly freeze—stunned at the sight of Michael’s limp body in your arms.

Tom and Sonny exchange equally horrified glances with one another, feeling their hearts sink to the pits of their stomach knowing that Michael is dead from the angle they stand in, seeing his neck snapped.

“Baby, please!” You try to pry Michael’s eyes open, holding him tightly to your body. “I’m here! I’m okay! I need you! I need you to be okay!” You can barely even see Michael from the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Victoria…” Tom takes a careful step towards you.

“NO!” You scream back at him. “He’s going to be okay! He’s alright!” You’re just about to put Michael down on the docks again to administer CPR when you gasp, seeing how limp his head hangs about in your arms.

“My God…” Sonny turns away, covering his eyes. “My fucking God.”

“Victoria.” Tom puts his hand over your shoulder but you see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing now.

Agony and bitterness swallow you whole, hitting you with absolute dread. You look down to see Michael’s neck is bruised—completely broken.

You feel as if your hands have a mind of their own, shakily trailing down your husband’s face to check for a pulse on his neck but feel nothing.

Your hands then begin to shake violently but you still feel nothing except a sense of shocking numbness shaking you to your core.

Michael’s dead and his body’s beginning to grow cold. He won’t respond to you or anyone now, and life has already faded out of Michael’s body.

To you in your arms, Michael seems as if he’s blissfully asleep like he always has been next to you in bed. He doesn’t look or appear dead but it’s the truth—Michael is dead.

“N-no…” You whimper out. “No, no…”

“Victoria, God, I’m so sorry.” Tom sniffles, “come here—” Tom tries to pull you away from Michael’s body gently, but you harshly shove him away from you.

“NO, NO, NO!” You scream-cry, “HE’S NOT DEAD! HE CAN’T BE! MICHAEL!” You give Michael’s motionless body another shake. “MICHAEL! PLEASE, BABY, I’M BEGGING YOU! Wake up! I’m here! I’M HERE!” Your sobs and screams can easily be heard all the way back to the compound. 

Sonny whistles, signaling for the rest of his men to get on board knowing nobody—including him or Tom—can console you now.

Feeling helpless and utterly defeated, Tom watches you experience the worst mental breakdown in your life, unable to do anything about it.

“NO, DON’T TOUCH HIM!” You scowl, clutching Michael in your arms protectively and away from his men who scramble onto the yacht and stare at you. “Don’t touch him! He’s okay, he will be! He has to be!” You cup Michael’s face again, staring down at your dead husband.

You know all too well in the bottom of your heart that Michael isn’t going to be okay nor will he ever be.

“My Michael… Michael… Michael…” You hiccup.

The only thing you’re unaware of at this point is that the twins were safely taken to the compound immediately, receiving a medical checkup just in case thankfully from the distance of where they are, they can’t hear their mother’s screams but they also don’t know that their father died—still hopeful both of you are okay and coming home together.

“Daddy’s really brave!” Niccolo exclaims, snuggled up in a warm blanket by the fireplace and next to Verona.

“Yeah!” Verona beams at Dr. Katherine. “He and mama are heroes. They’re coming here too?”

“Yes, they will.” Dr. Katherine smiles at the twins. “Don’t you worry. The yacht has state-of-the-art safety features after all. Both of them are coming off as we speak.”

With Michael’s corpse in your arms, your mind can only now think of what he told you moments before the two of you were split apart. 

“Take care of yourself and the twins, baby. I love you, Victoria.”

‘He knew he would die.’ Michael said goodbye to you, and it all registers now to you at once—sparking up deep nausea inside the pit of your stomach.

“MICHAELLLLLLLLLLLLL!” You let out a blood-curdling scream, more than enough for the twins to hear something and turn their heads to face the windows, watching the birds on the branches within the compound all fly off from the sound.

With the last bit of energy and strength leaving your body entirely, your eyes roll back and you give in to the harrowing weakness surrounding you.

Your body grows limp and your eyes roll back, fluttering shut as you and Michael’s lifeless bodies both land back into the water as you faint.

This period of unconsciousness you experience now is the only time for the next few years you’ll ever know peace because it’s also the only time you were blacked out completely cold—seeing and remembering nothing but darkness and being deeply asleep.

After this, nightmares, heartache, and tears are bound to haunt your nights for years to come only this time the experience will also be shared with your children.

It’s the thought of the twins, Vincent and James alone that stirs you back into consciousness slowly.

What happened after you passed out was that Tom, Sonny, and the rest of Michael’s guards took you and Michael off the yacht safely. 

The men who worked in the maintenance room died instantly due to the explosions and their corpses were also fished out.

Tom had the burden of calling Carmela and Vito from New York as well as your father to tell them about the yacht accident which garnered terrified reactions alone, but Michael’s death was the most harrowing and unexpected news yet.

Tom could only stall for so long making these calls because he and Sonny both knew your real heartache and pain were about to start when you woke. 

While you were unconscious, Dr. Katherine re-dressed you, cleaned your wounds, and kept your body warm by the fireplace the entire time under her watch as she monitored your state.

The family nanny—Esther—was in the next room comforting the twins, softly asking them questions about what happened, what they saw, and if they needed anything.

The twins were under the belief you were unconscious due to being hurt, but they still didn’t know where their father was or what happened to Michael. Esther told them that you would explain the rest once you were okay.

Esther knows the truth however that Michael is dead and she barely kept it together herself. She only left herself to her tears once she had some time alone in her room; her heart aching for the twins, Vincent and James knowing these young children are left fatherless because of a freak accident on the yacht is just a nightmare come to life. 

Once you finally stir awake, you find yourself murmuring your children’s names. “N-Niccolo… Verona… Where… Where a-are… My babies? Are they…” You take a deep breath in, feeling pain riddle your lungs. “Babies…”

“Victoria,” Dr. Katherine gently tries to wake you by shaking your shoulders but it only resembles the way the water and yacht rocked your body.

You cry out, thrashing and gasping before you awaken only to find yourself in the guest room on the bed before the fireplace with Dr. Katherine sitting next to you—deeply worried.

“Where…” You begin to break down into sobs yet again, now in fear of losing the twins and your sons too. “Where are my babies? MY BABIES?!”

“They’re okay, they’re alright, Mrs. Corleone!” Dr. Katherine attempts to calm you down. “Niccolo and Verona are okay, and so are little Vincent and James. Please rest assured!”

“I want to see my children!” You sniffle, hiccupping through your cries as you try to get out of bed only to see the guest room door open as Esther glumly stands behind the twins.

“Mama!” The twins pout, looking at you sadly.

“They’re here, Mrs. Corleone.” Esther reassures you, “please don’t worry. Vincent and James are still fast asleep. Everything’s okay.”

“Please,” Dr. Katherine gestures for the twins to approach you as both she and Esther quietly make their way out of the guest room to give you and the children some privacy.

“My babies. Oh… Thank God,” you blink back tears, hugging the twins who rush into your arms.

“Mama, mama!” Verona hugs you tightly.

“You’re awake!” Niccolo peeks up at you. “Are you alright, mama?”

The sense of motherhood hits you immediately, calming your nerves and senses as in the moment, you can only focus on nothing but the happiness and safety of your children.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief especially since no harm has come to the twins, only that they look up at you now with deep concern. 

“Oh, you two. Come here.” You sniffle, kissing both the top of Niccolo's and Verona’s heads as you embrace them tightly. “God… I’m so glad—so happy the two of you are both safe.” You glance up and down at the two of them.

“Don’t worry, mama!” Verona smiles at you, “I’m okay.”

“Me too, mama.” Niccolo nods at you. “Uncle Tom and Sonny got us back home and then we were with Dr. Katherine.”

“Super brave!” Verona exclaims.

“Yes, yes.” You smooch both of the twins’ cheeks, holding their hands in yours. “Both of you were very courageous and brave. We all had a very bad accident.”

“But mama’s hurt.” Niccolo pouts, pointing at your bandages and the bruising littering your arms.

“Mama…” Verona herself is on the verge of tears at the very sight of you injured.

“No, no, this is nothing.” You gesture to the bandage, moving your arm around fine. “I just got a little hurt from the boat moving.”

“The yacht exploded...” Niccolo frowns, “we heard the big boom.”

“But you and daddy are safe.” Verona gives out a little sigh of relief, hugging you again. “And we can take care of you and daddy!”

“Yes…” You hiccup tears swelling in your eyes once more about the mention of Michael. “Your father…”

“Where’s daddy, mama?” Niccolo asks curiously. “Can we go see him too?”

“Is daddy hurt too?” Verona asks nervously. 

“Your daddy was very hurt,” you hold your sobs back, knowing you must tell your children the truth no matter what but as best as you can in a way that isn’t harsh, but believable. “He was the most hurt out of all of us.”

“Oh no…” Verona pouts. “Daddy got scratched and bruised?”

“Very…” You nod glumly, “your father got very, very hurt. The yacht… exploded and we got separated from the impact. I was on one side of the yacht, and your father on the other. Then, I was trying to find your father when the boat finally stopped moving.”

“You found daddy?” Niccolo asks.

“Yes, I did.” Tears stream down your splotchy, reddened cheeks as the twins’ eyes widen, seeing how suddenly devastated you’ve gotten. “I found your father right away and like I said, he was very, very hurt. Please, promise me one thing…” You squeeze both of the twins’ hands. “That you will let me tell James and Vincent this alone, okay? I’ll tell them about the accident on the boat when the time comes, but only I can talk to them about what happened today.”

“Okay, mama.” Verona nods.

“I promise not to tell.” Niccolo agrees.

“Good.” You smile weakly at the two through your tears. “Your daddy loves you so much and we all love him too but… Your father didn’t make it. It was an accident, and he got to hurt.”

“He didn’t…? Make it?” Niccolo’s voice breaks. “What?”

“Daddy is…?” A single tear slides down Verona’s cheek.

“Y-yes.” You hiccup, crying. “I’m so sorry, babies. Daddy’s gone. He isn’t with us anymore.”

The twins instantly burst out into tears; Niccolo shaking his head and in complete disbelief. “No, n-no! Daddy is here, he has to be, mama!”

“Niccolo, please.” You sniffle, seeing the pain in your son’s eyes. “I know, I thought so too but it’s the truth. Your father passed, he’s in a b-better place now.” 

“Where…?” Verona hiccups, her bottom lip is quivering as she hugs your arm.

“Daddy’s in heaven.” You breathe out, embracing both of the crying twins again. “H-he’s in heaven now, he’s safe. He’s not hurt anymore.”

The sound of the twins crying in your arms is enough to make you hysterical already from sorrow but there’s nothing you can do anymore.

You hold your sobbing children in your arms, staring at the door with deadened eyes as silent tears run down your cheeks. 

There’s still little Vincent and James awaiting to see their father again after their naps, barely able to understand the concept of life let alone death. ‘How will they react knowing their father is gone?’ 

Your heart feels torn out of your chest, smashed and empty forever. Instead, all you feel in your chest is a dull ache—the warmth gone from all the pain and suffering you continue to feel as your heartbroken children cry in your arms over the loss of their father.

‘Michael’s gone…’

“I w-want daddy back… Want to see daddy.” Niccolo hiccups, barely able to catch his breath.

“I know, honey. I know.” You cup Niccolo’s teary face with trembling hands, trying to reassure him. “Believe me…”

Defeated and broken by this loss, you feel helpless to see the sadness in your children’s eyes which could stop your heart alone. You’re surprised it even continues to beat at this point. 

~

‘Michael… My love. Light of my life… My soulmate. Michael Corleone…’ Your mind, heart, and soul think of nothing but Michael and Michael only, desperately yearning and aching through your everlasting love for your husband.

You can think of nothing else now; not the funeral preparations for tomorrow, not of Vito and Carmela flying in from New York with your family, and you’ve already ignored the numerous phone calls incoming to your estate while making sure to strictly avoid going near your bedroom or Michael’s office.

Both rooms are barred to you, too painful to even think about entering knowing you’ll break down at the thought or expectation of Michael being in there, let alone picking up on the scent of his cologne. 

Instead, as you no longer grieve alone, you and the children remain in the central family estate together—still taking in everything that’s happened but your mental state and physical exhaustion only worsen.

You sit in the living room just outside the guest room the children are fast asleep in; your eyes are bloodshot, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably, your hands shaky and your heart aching so deeply in your chest you can feel it in your bones. 

Every bruise and gash on your body throbs, every cut on your skin stings and you feel like a human wound, not a person—injured inside and out.

Somehow you surprise yourself by still living and breathing, dressed now in entirely black to mark your grieving period you know will never end. 

You know all too well know that you’ll be surrounded by black fabrics for the rest of your life for as long as your heart beats because it will ache and only ache from the loss of your husband forever. That pain is eternal.

Tom steps into the living room quietly, sadly looking at you as you remain still. Instead, you continue to stare at the wall across from you, only able to think that you’ll never be able to sleep in your bed again now that Michael won’t be snuggled p by your side.

“Victoria,” Tom speaks softly out to you to grab your attention and for the first time in twenty minutes, your eyes move to focus on Tom instead of the wall.

Tom frowns, only feeling worse by sensing the pain you must be in. “You can see him now.”

Your body moves on Tom’s words alone; a wish to see Michael for what will be the last time before he’s laid in a coffin and the funeral preparations officially take place tomorrow. 

Your body feels light and your mind is aware you’re moving, but you also feel as if you can’t control your own movements.

Your mind is astray and in a different kind of pain of its own as you follow Tom out of the estate and across the compound towards what can be called a makeshift morgue of sorts; a controlled cold environment for game that’s remained empty since Fredo’s body was kept there when he “drowned”. 

Tom doesn’t even step inside as you two approach the makeshift morgue Instead, he opens the door for you to enter and closes it behind you once you enter.

From the moment you take a step inside, your skin immediately feels cold to the touch from the low temperatures in the small room.

Right in front of you remains Michael’s body laid out on a table, no longer dressed in the outfit he wore for the yacht trip today but a plain white dress shirt and black dress trousers. 

“M-Michael,” you croak, instantly bursting into sobs at the sight of your dead husband’s corpse. “Michael!” You rush over to the table Michael’s laid out on, clutching onto it and staring at Michael’s lifeless body.

You clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle out your cries, noticing how Michael’s hair is still half damp and messy but from the lack of gashes, cuts, or any major wounds on him as well as his new, dry clothing, Michael still doesn’t appear dead to you.

When you came in to pay your respects to Fredo years ago, you noticed the mottled bruising and blood pooling in the pit of his body before you even noticed the gunshot wound to the back of his head; you knew your brother-in-law was indeed dead, but this doesn’t look at all the same for Michael.

You can barely even reach your hands out to Michael from how violently they shake, but the disbelief and state of denial your mind is in tries to convince you Michael is asleep instead of dead.

Indeed Michael appears like he’s sleeping peacefully and soundly, but the worst is only confirmed for you again once you place your hand over Michael’s cold chest to feel no heartbeat. 

Just last night, you were snuggled up in Michael’s arms listening to his heart rate as he kissed your forehead, stroking your hair, and making light conversation over tomorrow’s yacht trip.

Not even a full twenty-four hours later, you can no longer feel nor hear your husband’s heartbeat like you did before.

“O-Oh my God, oh my G-God,” you hiccup throughout your sobs. “Michael… Michael…” You shake your head, feeling how cold Michael’s body is to the touch. 

You can’t push aside the memories of leaning over Michael in bed at night while bringing his diabetic medication, leaning down and kissing his warm lips then watching your husband slowly stir out of sleep to look up at you.

You look at Michael’s closed eyelids, expecting him to wake up and greet you like he did all those nights, but it doesn’t happen.

“My baby… My love.” You run your hand down Michael’s chest, looking between the fabric of his dress shirt to see no bruising on his chest.

You check Michael’s limp hands, noticing nothing there or on his arms either.

Confused and mostly distraught, you slowly move to the other side of the table and gasp to spot deep, violet bruising on Michael’s neck from where he broke it.

You hold back vomit down your throat, unable to accept the cause of Michael’s death, to begin with.

Hiccupping again, you sob uncontrollably over Michael’s chest—refusing to let go of him. 

 “W-why, baby? Why did you…? Please, please come back to me, Michael.” You beg, “please, please, PLEASE!” You clasp Michael’s cold, lifeless hand in your warm ones; your wedding band tinkling against his. “No… I just can’t—I can’t believe this. You’re not gone… N-No, you’re not! You can’t be!” 

Your tears soak into Michael’s suit as you run your free hand shakily through his silky, dark hair, mewling throughout your sobs. “T-take me with you, at least…! Should have… Should have been me. I can’t—I can’t…” You struggle to breathe through your sobs, panting as you stare at Michael’s face. “I can’t live without you, Michael. I can’t. I l-love you so much. I love you, I love, I love you!” You shriek throughout your sobs, “I can’t live or breathe without you! You’re my everything! You’re my life and—and our babies… Oh God, Michael… Our children—” You sob even harder, coughing between your words. “We lost you and now nothing matters. N-nothing… Nothing—I’ll never, never…” You clasp a gentle hand over Michael’s cheek to caress his still angelic face, squeezing your eyes shut as tears continue to stream down your cheeks. “I will never, never, never love again, baby. Never, never again. No, it’s only you for me. I can’t… I can’t do this, I can’t accept you’re gone forever.” 

You raise Michael’s hand up to your mouth, crying before kissing the back of it. “I died. I died…” You hear Tom opening up the door to the makeshift morgue but you ignore him completely. “I died with you there—I’m not even here anymore. I don’t have anything left. N-nothing makes sense without you!”

Tom bites down on his lip, forcing his tears back as he’s been on the verge of losing it himself. 

“Victoria, please.” Tom places his hand gently on your shoulder but you remain unphased, looking down at Michael instead.

“I can’t go, I can’t take a single s-step away from you. I don’t want to say goodbye! Please, Michael, please—” You stare down at Michael’s face in your hand. “I have to… Have to be strong for our babies but without you, I just—” You squeeze your eyes shut, “my pillar, my s-soulmate gone… I don’t want to be in this world if it isn’t with you and our b-babies.”

Tom swallows hard, knowing now more than ever he needs to take you out of here before you have another mental breakdown let alone do something to hurt yourself out of your immense grief. 

“I love you so much.” You confess to Michael through your sobs, “I love you, I love you! I’ve a-always loved you, my love! My baby!” You lean down, pressing your forehead against Michael’s.

“Victoria, please, come with me,” Tom murmurs, trying to pull you away from Michael’s body.

“I’m not saying goodbye! I’M NOT!’ You thrash in Tom’s arms as he begins to forcefully pull you out of the makeshift morgue. “T-this isn’t goodbye! It’s not! I’m not—” You stumble outside of the morgue with Tom but you’re quick to shove him off of you, clinging onto the side of the building to hold your balance. “T-this isn’t goodbye—”

“Victoria!” Tom quickly holds onto you from behind, pulling you up as you’re just about to collapse to the ground, vomiting over the cobblestone ground from crying uncontrollably. 

~

Michael Corleone is dead and although he remains alone, lying on a cold, metal table in the makeshift morgue away from the sight of the estates, he’s heard everything you’ve said to him.

The first voice Michael’s heard since his death on the yacht is yours and yours only.

Michael himself isn’t aware he’s dead but believes he may be in a coma or sleeping deeply at the very least. 

Michael’s own motion of events is that he thought he had a nightmare, experiencing some sort of freak incident, and is still within his dream experiencing sleep paralysis at best with you trying to wake him up because he ultimately feels just fine.

Michael doesn’t know he’s completely undead now; he can’t feel fear either but he does feel and understand the warmth of your love and touch.

Michael also senses something else but can’t entirely register it to himself; your life force and blood surging through your body that he’ll soon come to understand.

Hours pass into the night as Michael lays there and the yacht is finally brought back to the docks, being pulled apart as police have arrived on the scene to get notes and investigate with Michael’s men quietly.

You feel as if you’ve lived through and died in many different lives tonight alone, spending the rest of your miserable evening back inside the family compound with your sleeping children. 

You’ve felt nauseous since Tom brought you back inside but you brushed it off due to vomiting earlier and nothing else, trying to stay warm by the fireplace as the twins and Vincent snuggle up on the king-sized bed behind you—James’ spare crib brought to the side to stay close.

Your children are the only thing distracting you now from breaking down into sobs again, and even Vito and Carmela who arrived in the dead of night have yet to approach you personally because they’ve heard just how utterly inconsolable you are. 

But at the makeshift morgue, Michael feels no different than when waking from a deep sleep. Feeling perfectly fine, Michael’s eyes slowly blink open; no longer their usual hazel color, but dark like onyx.

Michael gazes up at the ceiling, feeling the coldness of the building he’s in. Slowly, he sits up but is greeted by a constricting pain in his chest. 

Michael grunts, placing a hand over his heart only to feel and sense no heartbeat, but rather pain spreading through his muscles with every passing moment.

Michael’s head begins pounding next as if he’s been suffering from a migraine for days, and just as he rubs his temples gingerly, the pain only worsens and trails down to his mouth.

A stinging and aching pain rang out in Michael’s body all over; his mouth felt sore his gums burning as if all of his teeth are bound to fall out at any given minute.

Letting out a wheeze of air, Michael’s lungs burn as if he’s trying to breathe under a pool of acid.

No longer able to cope with the various stages of pain rushing through his body, Michael grabs onto his cold face with both hands and gasps—his mouth opening as his teeth quiver and begin to sharpen into a set of fans.

Michael’s eyes water and begin to sting, but nothing compares to the agonizing pain he feels in his neck as if he’s reliving the impact of breaking it over and over again.

Just as Michael’s about to cry out from the pain, all of it suddenly ceases to exist—leaving his body entirely. 

Catching his breath, Michael squeezes his eyes shut expecting the unexplainable swarm of pain to return to him, but nothing happens. 

Instead, a horrific, ungodly thirst settles inside of Michael, demanding him to drink, drink, drink. He feels as if his thirst will only be settled if he drinks the entire sea and more, guaranteeing no satisfaction.

Staring around him at the slightly familiar building he’s in, Michael isn’t aware of how exactly he ended up in the makeshift morgue or the transformation he’s going through. All he knows is the thirst—only the thirst.

As Michael sits up, the cross on the wall of the makeshift morgue behind him slowly turns upside down—combusting into blue flames.

Michael doesn’t notice anything, simply glancing at the door in front of him and taking in a deep breath as his feet hit the ground and off the table he was placed on.

All the way from the makeshift morgue which is purposefully placed further away than most buildings and areas on the compound for obvious reasons, Michael can smell you, or more specifically, Michael can smell your blood.

While Michael isn’t entirely aware of what he’s thirsting for or sensing, the last shred of humanity inside of him tells you that he needs to get you and the rest will make sense.

Instead of being curled up in bed with your children, you remain on the sofa in front of the fireplace within the guest room—only comforted by the fact all of your babies are still in here sound asleep and safe.

You know for the sake of your own sanity you can’t spend the rest of tomorrow or every day after that explaining just what happened to the children, but your motherly instincts kick in and you know your babies are your only priority. 

The children are concerned for you just as you are for them, especially since they know their mother was hurt in an accident. They want to be with you and in your presence just as much as you want to do the same for them.

Aside from the sounds of the crackling fire coming from the fireplace, crickets chirp outside with the guest bedroom window slightly open.

Stars are scattered throughout the sky, adorning a full moon but there’s nothing left in the world for you to admire now that you know you’ll have to do it alone.

You lay on the sofa miserably with a faux fur throw over you, snuggled up and trying to enjoy the warmth the fireplace provides, comforting you into sleep.

All of your sobbing and crying has physically exhausted you as much as it has mentally, and your sore eyes beg to be closed and let your body relax.

Before you’re even fully aware of it, you’ve drifted off into deep sleep right then and there. 

The environment you see around you is completely clear, and you suddenly find yourself in Corleone, Sicily within your dream.

You glance around you, feeling the hot Sicilian sun and warm weather over your skin. You can see you’re in your own fruit garden just behind you and Michael’s villa in Corleone. 

Your garden is blossoming with fruits and plants alike, painting a lively picture and you notice that you’re not hurt or injured in any kind of way, but rather healthy and sound, wearing your favorite summer swing dress.

As you look up, you notice Michael just ahead in the midst of your garden. 

He’s dressed casually, his hair fluffy and combed back rather than heavily slicked and Michael keeps both of his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he looks at the ripe fruit surrounding him with curiosity. 

“Michael?” You call out, finding strength in your voice.

Your dream tricks you into believing you may just be experiencing reality because the ache in your heart is too real to ignore at the sight of your husband living and healthy.

Michael turns to face you, having heard you call his name. His eyes warm up to spot you running up to his arms as you embrace Michael tightly—wrapping your arms around your husband’s shoulders.

“Michael, o-oh, Michael!” You burst into sobs immediately, clutching onto his chest. “You’re here!”

“Baby, baby—come here. Yes, I’m here, darling.” Michael gazes down at you with sad confusion in his eyes. “Where else would I be?”

You can’t stop the tears from streaming down your face as you stare up at your husband; his heart beating, his skin warm to the touch.

‘He’s real. He’s right here in front of me, he has to be.’ This is far too good to be a dream as nothing appears to be off or unusual.

“With me.” You cup Michael’s face with trembling hands, “you’re here with me. My God…”

“I’m in Sicily now, darling,” Michael tells you. “I’m here, but you’re not.”

“I’m… I’m not?” Your eyes begin to widen.

“No.” Michael wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “I don’t want you to be either but… I don’t want to let go of you either because I’m afraid I won’t see you again.”

“You will, you will!” You protest, shaking your head. “I’ll stay here with you, I will.”

“But you can’t.” Michael frowns at you, refusing. “It’s not right. You can’t come here right now. It’ll be much longer before you do.”

“Why?” You hiccup throughout your sobs, “t-this is our home. Our paradise. We live here.”

“I know, baby.” Michael pushes a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “I know, but I’m still here.”

“I don’t k-know what this is!” You sob hysterically, refusing to let go of Michael. “You’ve… You’ve come to visit me in my dream? This isn’t real, is it?”

Michael’s eyes fill with sadness as he hugs you tighter. “You’ll be here with me someday, but not now. It’s not your time.”

“My time…” You breathe, your heart breaking over and over again. “Y-you’re gone, Michael. You’re g-gone. It hasn’t even been a full day! S-so… So then you must know about everything.”

“Yes.” Michael nods glumly at you. “I wish I could control it all, but all I know is what I know.”

“Can you see me?” You sniffle.

“Of course, I can, baby.” Michael rubs up and down your back. “Not there, but only here. I’m not a part of that world anymore.”

“But that was our world,” you sob back, “i-it has no meaning now that you’re not in it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. Our children are there with you.” Michael tells you.

“I know, I know—” You attempt to catch your breath, “and our babies miss you so much. So much, Michael. Oh God, the twins can’t take it.”

Michael’s eyes begin to sting with tears for what you believe is the first time you’ve ever seen so. “I know, darling. It’s not going to be easy for them, but in time they’ll have to understand.”

“And Vincent?” You whimper. “He doesn’t understand, and neither does little James. Vincent thinks you’re away on business, he’s waiting for you to come home.”

“I love both my boys, you tell them that, baby.” Michael squeezes your hand reassuringly, “the twins know better whereas their younger siblings don’t. Keep on it. Tell Vincent and James I’m on business and when they’re old enough to know the truth, you and the twins will tell them. You’ll have to. That’s all you can do for now, darling and you’ve already done so well.”

“I have?” You blink back tears pooling in your eyes. 

“Yes, I can hear you, Victoria.” Michael plants a kiss on your forehead. “You’re crying so much but please—”

“I can’t!” You clutch onto Michael’s hands tightly. “I can’t s-stop, I miss you too much. You’re gone and now nothing matters. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, Michael! I wanted to die with you!”

“Either it was you or it was me.” Michael looks you in the eyes. “Either you would get crushed to death by that metal falling off the yacht or it would be me and what did I tell you? I told you I would die for you and the children without a second’s hesitation, didn’t I? And I did.”

“You died…” Your bottom lip quivers uncontrollably. “You died for me…for our babies…”

“They need you.” Michael cups your face with both hands, “they need their mother. You’re a strong woman, you’re my wife. We didn’t have a choice back there did we, Victoria?”

“No.” You admit, swallowing hard. “B-but it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“I know, baby, but I can help.” Michael gently caresses your face.

“How?”

“You can come to visit me in your dreams like this.” Michael offers, “you know I’m in Sicily now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“A-are you happy?” You ask, smiling weakly at your husband.

“Yes,” Michael tells you truthfully. “This is our home after all, isn’t it? I’ll be here forever.”

“How can I come to see you again then?” You hiccup.

“Just the way you did tonight,” Michael replies, placing his hand over your heart. “Think of me. Think of me, and you’ll come here. I can’t promise it’ll work every time but I’ll keep you close to me forever.”

“I love you so much, Michael Corleone.” You sob even harder, holding onto Michael’s arms. “You’re my soulmate, my forever, my always. You’re the love of my life!”

“I love you so much more than you can ever know, Victoria,” Michael tells you back. “In this world and in the next, I’ll continue to love you and only you. I’ll wait for you here forever if I have to. Don’t forget me, okay?” Michael leans in to press a kiss over your lips that ache all over for more.

‘No, don’t go! Don’t go, DON’T GO, DON’T GO! MICHAEL!’ Unable to cope, all you can feel and remember is kissing Michael back deeply right up until you stir awake—almost falling off the sofa.

You stare at the flames flickering in the fireplace before you, fresh tears streaming down your face and reminding you that you’re here—bruised, battered, with fatherless children as a widow.

‘Michael.’ Your heart aches in your chest as if it’s bleeding from the inside out—no different from the feeling that you felt when embracing Michael in your dream.

You push off the faux fur throw off you, rising up to your feet slowly from the sofa and stumbling quietly out of the guest room.

All you want is to feel Michael’s presence once more and no harm can be done by just entering his office to smell his cologne again and remember the places he was in.

Just this one time, your heart can take it and you know Michael’s office is the only place his presence has always lingered in the longest.

You make your way down the hallway and past the study room, pushing open Michael’s office door and taking a step inside.

The office smells faintly of cigarettes, but the scent of Michael’s cologne and body wash are more overpowering in the best way possible.

You feel your hand alongside the wall by the doorway and turn on the lights to Michael’s office, dimming it before you continue to walk inside.

Sniffling, you approach Michael’s office desk and carefully rotate a framed photograph on the corner of his desk to face you.

You gaze at the family photograph you all took just a month ago; Michael by your side with Verona by your arm, Niccolo by Michael’s, and little baby Vincent held in your arms while Michael held James. 

“God…” You whimper, touching Michael on the photograph and admiring the photograph as a whole, taking a moment to yourself.

Michael himself was neither seen nor suspected of moving around on the compound, but then again he didn’t make any noise nor was he staggering around to be caught as unusual by anybody outside.

Michael stuck to the shadows where the security lights didn’t shine and easily got into the central family estate; nobody removed the keys that were securely tucked in the bottom of Michael’s pockets after all.

Continuing to pick up on your scent, Michael stands by the doorway of his office ominously and he would have continued to linger by silently if the floorboards underneath him didn’t creak.

Taken by surprise, you flinch and turn your head immediately to the doorway, expecting one of Michael’s men or even Tom but all you can see is Michael.

Out of shock, your muscles freeze and you drop the photograph to the ground—glass shattering into dozens of tiny pieces everywhere.

Michael doesn’t flinch or react to it, but rather keeps his gaze on you and you only. He appears completely normal, fine, and healthy—dressed the same way he was in the makeshift morgue.

“Michael?” You feel all the breath knocked out of your lungs, unable to react properly. “You…”

‘Something’s wrong.’ Perhaps still disillusioned by your dream and wondering if you’re sleepwalking or still dreaming somehow, you stumble backward.

“Michael, are you…?” You begin to panic as Michael neither responds nor moves forward but then he begins to take a step toward you.

“Victoria,” Michael says, his voice clear and soothing.

“O-oh,” a sense of relief hits you as you swallow hard, staring at Michael—still trying to figure out if any of this is real.

Michael can hear the way your heart beats in your chest, thundering from fear, confusion, and shock. He can make out the sound of your blood surging through your veins so loudly that it's enough to make Michael’s eyes ring if he listens too keenly any longer.

The sounds of your lively, warm body filled with blood are bad enough to remind Michael of the thirst that he can no longer hold back—corroding the last bits of his humanity and being only focused and fueled by bloodthirst. 

Michael can no longer see you as his wife, the love of his life, but as something to feed on. 

Now approaching you, Michael reaches out his hand and touches your cheek—hungered by how warm your skin feels.

Unable to move an inch from sheer terror, you can’t do anything but stare back at Michael and watch his movements.

Michael’s brows furrow as he moves his hand off your cheek, instead trailing it down to your stomach before he places a hand over it. 

Michael can hear a very tiny heartbeat, a newly formed heart at that. Whether Michael could somehow cause you to hear it too as a result is seen to be unknown, but your eyes widen and you let out a shaky gasp to hear the heartbeat as well.

Michael senses growing life inside of you, what would be your fifth child with him and your second daughter whom you would have named Emilia. 

You’re completely unaware you’ve just conceived weeks ago, under the impression you’re not pregnant at all until now.

Before you can even react to your surprise pregnancy let alone Michael sensing life inside of you, Michael uses your confused state to his advantage.

Michael grabs you harshly and you let out a scream as he immediately lunges towards your neck—letting his new grown, sharp fangs pierce through the supple skin of your neck to feed on you.

Shrieking and panicking, you’re unable to move out of Michael’s grasp—a crushing hold that could easily break your bones if Michael wanted to, much stronger than anything human.

Your blood rushes into Michael’s mouth and begins to satisfy his thirst, but from where the light hits your body at an angle, the only thing that causes Michael to pull back and stop is when he spots the mottled, violet bruises over your arms.

Blood smears over Michael’s mouth as his humanity kicks in and suddenly his memory reminds him of the explosion on the yacht.

Michael immediately lets go of you and you drop to his office floor with a thud, shaking with fear and sobbing. 

Weakened, you clutch onto your bloody neck and whimper, begging for Michael not to hurt you or come closer. “N-no, Michael, no! Please, p-please, what are you doing? This isn’t you!” 

You try to crawl away to no avail—Michael’s much faster and stronger than you, and his thirst hasn’t even come close to being satisfied yet.

Michael picks you off the ground like a ragdoll, forcing you to face him.

Sobbing and crying out, you flail in his arms and are forced to watch Michael drag the tip of his fangs over his wrist, slitting it.

“O-Oh my God!” You panic, watching as Michael takes a mouthful of his own blood before taking his free hand and forcefully prying your mouth open before spitting his blood back down your throat.

You cough, choking but ultimately swallowing down Michael’s blood without a choice. 

In just a few seconds, you feel all of the energy deplete out of your body and throw your head back—gasping deeply for air.

Fresh blood glistens over your neck and Michael’s blood oozes out of your mouth and drips down your neck. 

Your vision begins to fade and grow red as if you were staring at a glowing light and couldn’t pull away. “M-Michael… Michael?”

“I’m here, darling.” You hear Michael’s voice echoing in your head, soft and convincing just like it was in your dream. “Just come with me. I’ll take you with me now.”

Distracted, dazed, and with nothing left inside of you to protest or fight back, the last thing you see before your vision goes entirely black are Michael’s fangs covered in your blood as he growls at you and leans into your neck again.

As Michael tears through your jugular, the last thing heard on the Lake Tahoe compound are your blood-curdling screams echoing throughout. 

[vodid]

Hii i'm new to your art and I wanna know how you came up with all the obsidian king stuff (i think it's called an AU? Don't know what that means nsndnsj) but yeah I love what you do and I wonder if you can give some kind of guide to understand your universe, if it's not so much to ask?

Love you!

P.D.: looking at your art is so relaxing, everything is very soft! 🥺💝

hi there! thank you so much! :)

au means alternate universe — aka a different timeline from canon. it can be the same but human or something way different like royalty or mers!

i came up with this au purely because a) i wanted to give prowl really cool wings, inspired by mecha wing designs! and b) a lot of royalty aus tend to be dark and have arranged marriage, especially making prowl the one used as a political piece. it's not my cup of tea but a more fairytale royalty au sounded fun so i created this au in hopes to make a happy royalty au for once

(this didn't particularly last long as i included more characters and city-states but i still greatly adore this au and the direction its taken)

as for a guide, i have a very long informational google doc about the whole au i created some months ago. i do not have it open to the public at the moment (still a wip and i just made a lot of changes that aren't finished 😭) but i can give you a hopefully quick history lesson summary:

nearly half a century ago (yes i'm using human time here i don't feel like converting), ruby king aries and his "queen" (referred to in this au as:) praxine barricade began a war with polyhex and simfur in hopes to gain more land as praxus is a small kingdom. also tyranny! but soon, vos jumped in and attacked a vulnerable praxus. they were now at war with three kingdoms.

a few years in, aries died in battle and barricade was left to lead as the new ruby king with an heir on the way (coincidence? 👀) during this time, he advanced the wars beyond reparation and had his only son, selenite prince smokescreen, who he locked away in the palace for safety (he was barricade's only heir and was terminally ill)

more years passed, smokescreen grew into a young teen (like 15–17 here) and was introduced to the world outside the quiet palace. upon seeing the death, destruction and lack of attention for their own people, smokescreen set out to usurp barricade and prepared for a few years until a successful assassination killed the ruby king.

after taking the throne, smokescreen worked tirelessly to end the wars, but failed many times over and was left to defend praxus from three different militaries over the course of the next 15 years. during this time, he was raising his only heir, obsidian prince prowl, and shaping him into a strong and pacifistic leader. when prowl grew older, he became the commander and strategist for the praxian military and helped end the wars once and for all. vos took longer to placate but eventually backed off and war on this part of cybertron ended.

unfortunately, smokescreen was only able to enjoy this peace for a little while before he succumbed to his terminal illness, passing away from spark failure, and left a new praxus to prowl.

obsidian king prowl was young, and as such, did not look for a mate despite the norm on cybertron being that every sovereign should be bonded. he did not care for this and focused on running a kingdom for a good two years before he meets a young musician, recently taking over his creators' positions as the praxian palace's court musician. prowl immediately takes interest and requests jazz to play music for him late at night when they are able to meet

they begin to fall in love with each other and eventually want to bond :) this isn't without protests from prowl's cabinet and even some of the populace. jazz isn't praxian or royalty/noble. he was just some musician from polyhex (which might i mention, tensions were still high here) but prowl didn't care. his father gave him a kingdom to rule in the way he wanted to, and you're damn right prowl's gonna take advantage of that freedom.

so they bond, melding relations between them and polyhex (simfur by extension) and have their own little heir, covellite prince bluestreak, and live happily ever after

(until the autobot-decepticon war starts and praxus is destroyed for remaining strictly neutral)

:)

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Fic Rec Fridays

So I’ve wanted to do this for awhile now to share the wonderful stories I’ve read through the week, and wouldn’t you know it the first time I actually get around to it, I do it for Nandermo and not Bagginshield. 😅

Anyways! Please enjoy my recommendation for Nandermo I have read this week!

The Festival by AshaDev- Multi-chapter 9/9, 14K+, Rating: E

Summary: Guillermo goes to a Renaissance Faire with the Mosquito Collectors of the Tri-State Area and unfortunately, the group tags along. Nandor doesn't approve of Guillermo's friends or how they hang all over him.

Why I Recommend: I actually love the Mosquito Collectors and enjoyed some content where we got to see more of this little troop of vampire hunters. However, jealous Nandor was a great addition in a really fun setting.

Of Friendships, Reunions, and Wooden Knitting Needles by readandwritesilver- One-shot, 8K+, Rating: T

Summary:  Guillermo follows Nadja into most of her higher-level meetings, and accompanies her most times she leaves the house, but he stays out in the waiting area in a comfy green chair that he’s more or less designated as his own for everything else. Meetings with lower-level individuals, like the one Nadja’s currently in, aren’t enough of a threat for her to need protection, and he’s also often sent out when she’s trying to get work done on her own, because she “finds the rattling of his heart in his chest distracting.” (“I like that I can hear you coming, Guillermo,” Nandor once said, a few years ago, with his hand pressed to Guillermo’s chest in a moment of drug-blood-induced lucidity. Guillermo doesn’t want to think about that.) --- Four months in London, England.

Why I Recommend: The season 4 fix-it we are all secretly hoping for but know we are probably not going to get (or at least right away).🙃 I really like the friendship between Guillermo and Nadja that develops in this one, and SPOILER for the happy ending between our bodyguard and vampire master. 🥰

A broken heart, a broken soul, a broken everything by MrSpockify- One-shot, 3K+, Rating: T

Summary:  Guillermo and Nandor discover a side-effect of having Van Helsing blood running through your veins, and it puts a damper on the whole "turning you into a vampire under the moonlight along the banks of the river Tigris" plan.

Why I Recommend: So I’m quickly becoming a sucker for the “Guillermo lays broken and bleeding and Nandor turns him” trope. But I never considered what would be a twist to this trope and without giving too much away, I am quickly becoming enamored with this alternative! 

Scenes from an Alliance by Interrobam- Multi-chapter *Still in Progress* 56/?, 110K+, Rating: M

Summary:  " Guillermo met his eyes across the courtyard, and for a moment the human was grave and resolute as a warrior in battle, resigned to his fate yet defiant to its circumstances. For a moment Nandor imagined this meeting as the start of a war rather than a courtship, and for that moment he felt as if he'd found his footing again. 

But then the human had done something outrageous. 

Then the human had smiled. 

"In the end, when all was said and done, the marriage of Nandor the Relentless and Guillermo de la Cruz would be remembered as a pivotal and defining moment in the history of human and vampiric society alike. 

In the beginning, however, it was mostly just a mess.

Why I Recommend: This is an amazing AU set in a world where the vampires have built an empire, and Guillermo comes from a nearby city-state of vampire hunters who are accepting an alliance between their people that hinges on Guillermo and Nandor’s arranged marriage. 12/10 Slow burn built on pain...ful misunderstandings and Guillermo and Nandor being idiots, and I can’t even complain because it’s so in character for both of them. 😭 😓 Awaiting the next chapter eagerly!

the age of iron, steam, and speed by ghostoftonantzin- Two-shot, 10K+, Rating: E

Summary: Guillermo did not mean to burn the moment War Machine walked into the New York Department of Powered Beings offices into his mind, but it was kind of hard not to. War Machine wasn’t officially known as War Machine, the nickname was considered kind of rude, but “The Swordsman” didn’t quite capture the raw terror he inspired in the general population.

Nandor is a superhero of questionable morals, age, and ability to limit collateral damage, and Guillermo is a bureaucrat who really likes his job.

Why I Recommend: I love this AU. I want to write, for this AU. I’m more disappointed that I only got two chapters to this AU. I have re-read this particular fic 3 times at this point, and the little hints towards what I could only assume would be revealed in a longer fic open a plethora of possibilities.  😍 😍

***

If you haven’t read these yet, I strongly encourage it! I’ll try to make this a series and be back next week with more fic recs. Happy reading!

[escailyyy]

The real Sansa and Tyrion, additional notes:

Some practical backgrounds on the characters of my Reality show au that you guys didn't ask for but would still be cool to know if you're into character backstories Families: Starks: Owners of a Billionaire Textile business specializing in synthetic fur and other luxury fabrics, their founder was born in the North of England and their biggest factory/home base is also there. Lannisters: Old money, made their fortune in the oil business. Famous for their capitalist business practices Targaryen: very polemic superstar musician family dating back to the Industrial revolution era of music. Their hall of Fame is made up of mostly Rockstars and pop singers. Characters: Sansa: Fur empire heiress. Socialite with her own designer label. Famous for winning King's Landing Project runnaway. She won because the public either loved her intensely or hated her intensely. Nicknamed 'queen b(ch) of the North' by viewers of KL.Project Runnaway Tyrion: founder of a fortune 500 Publicity firm. Famous for handling all of Deanerys Targaryen's PR. He's the black sheep of the Lannister family who refused to go into the oil business. Jamie: Tyrion's brother B List Netflix Actor who's already tried modeling, starting a music career, writing a book (check out 'My life as Jamie Lannister' in a bookstore near you) and is basically always trying to find himself. He's also got a law degree he never uses. But yeah he's technically allowed to practice law if he wanted Brienne: Olympic swimmer from an little known island in the states. Was a finalist in 'dancing with the stars' along with famous ballroom dancer 'Goodwin Tzarcowsky', went to a elite college on a sports scholarship and ended up in the same sorority as Sansa and Margaery. Currently she works with the Starks (Catelyn) as personal trainer. Arya: Rebel heiress to the Stark empire. Kickboxing champion and women's rights advocate. Currently studying to be a public defender. Went to a private boarding school rumored to be a front for spy operatives. And is actually banned from entering Portugal, Istanbul and Bahamas, tho nobody knows why. Gendry: Totally normal guy. Struggling artist who makes art that looks like weapons but is actually art (maybe?) But probably could kill a man. Used to be a waiter in Arya's favorite restaurant until Davos Seaworth headhunted him and now he's Davos assistant. (His hiring had nothing to do with Doctor Stannis Baratheon seeing Gendry on TV and ordering his boyfriend to give Gendry a decent job, Davos is simply one of the judges for Star Chef, he doesn't believe in bureocracy) Jon: Sansa's cousin, went to the same college as Sansa, Brienne and Margaery. He is currently signed with North Models, which is a modeling Agency under the Stark umbrella. Famous for being the hot shirtless guy of Night's guard Security commercials, and occasionally playing the northern guy in flannel in a few Hallmark movies,  he's also done a lot of ads for Stark Furs and will occasionally appear in Danny's music videos. Jon is currently the face of SansaDesigns menswear clothing line. Daenerys Targaryen: Jon's girlfriend, Her family is super famous and scandalous. She's always at the top of the music charts with songs inspired by people she knows or simply roasting haters with some sick tunes. She's still friends with ex husband Action Starlet Drogo 'the Khal' Dothraki, she has an asshole brother who will never be as good as her #BeatThatViserys. And her feud with Sansa started when SansaDesigns started putting a shirtless Jon in all sort of suggestive poses to sell more of Sansa's fur cloaks. Cersei: Tyrion's sister, old time movie star, currently the mean judge in 'Casterly's Got Talent' and 'So you think you can Act'. Her fans love to hate her. Her Hollywood marriage to film director Robert Baratheon has outlasted almost every other marriage of her generation despite his affairs. And produced  3 children. Robert: Cersei's husband, movie director and casting couch king. Friends with Sansa's dad, for who knows what reason and Also Gendry's deadbeat biological father. Robb: Sansa's 1st brother, business man, family pocketbook, doesn't like to be filmed. Ladies man, in the process of divorcing wife #2 Talisa Maegyr, soon to marry wife #3 Roslin Frey, aka: the one who got away (yes, wife #1 was Jeyne Westerling, but we don't talk about her)

Margaery: Rom Com Actress and Sansa's best friend #2 after Brienne. Went to to the same sorority as those two. Her family is old money and she's the only female Heiress to Tyrell perfumes. Homegirl has been known to date co-stars just for publicity and is the queen of product placement

Ned: Sansa's father, who was booted as the head of his own company thanks to some shady business between Cersei and Tywin that the Starks can't prove yet. He now lives the relaxed life of a retired househusband in the Stark estate in Winterfell England while Robb and Caitlyn handle the company. Ned mostly spends his time playing golf with Jon Arryn and Arthur Dayne. Occasionally annoying Tywin and dropping by unannounced in the lives of his children 

Catelyn: Sansa's mother, CEO of Winterfell industries, starred in her own season of Undercover Boss and is currently being scouted by Westeros Productions to man up the revival of 'Boss Apprentice'. She used to be Ned's ornamental housewife until he abdicated his position in the company and now she's basically living her best life

Bran: Teenage influencer, recently graduated from highschool. Ages ago during a celebrity wedding he was forced to attend, he stumbled on Jamie and Cersei having a fight over who Joffrey's real father was. It had been raining, the ground was wet, Jamie and Cersei scared him and he slipped down a flight of stairs leaving him severely impaired in the legs for a year. It was an accident, Bran forgave Jamie, but Caitlyn did not.. Ever since then he decided life is too short so he posts everything he hears and sees in social media. And starts shit up just because he can. 

Bronn: Tyrion's bodyguard. he has a million side hustles on the side and the camera crew likes to spend at least 10 min of each TRS&T episode following him around in his quest to make easy money and buy his dream mansion

Stannis: Supreme Court Judge, Gendry's uncle, who is embarrassed to admit he shares blood ties with Robert. Will appear on TV every once in a while on criminal justice programs as a guest speaker. His daughter Shireen is an influencer.

Tywin: Tyrion’s father, Oil magnate and terrible parent, has a habit of appearing on the news everytime he dodges a lawsuit for bad business practices and capitalist exploitations. His lawyers are very good. Owns his own film company and is constantly trying to bribe Jamie into working for him. Tyrion unionized all his actors some years ago and now he’s not allowed near LannisFilm 

Currently known (to me) members of my TRS&T Production team: Varys Enoch: Co-Director from hell #1 ( I know I said he was a producer, sorry, that was a typo) Petyr Baelish: Co-Director from hell #2 Tycho Nestoris (that guy we never liked from the Iron Bank): Producer From hell Sandor Clegane: Filming crew director / favorite cameraman from hell Ros Harlow: head of hair and Makeup Olyvar: Makeup artist #1 Marei : Makeup artist #2 Daisy: Makeup artist #3

if you’re interested in seeing the rest of my The real Sansa and Tyrion series, just look for the #trs&t tag in my blog

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Dungeons and Dragons AU of my dreams (inspired by the TAD AMA and Joey apparently being an amazing dm):

-"Why do you hate fun," Eskel complains - for the fifth time that day - after Geralt refused his invitation to a new DnD campaign - for the fifth time that day. Geralt doesn't hate fun. He hates play-acting and games, especially if they rely on luck and are overly complicated, he hates big groups of people, and he hates being told stories. Dungeons and Dragons encompasses all of those aspects and that is why Geralt avoids it like the plague. "It's not for me," he mutters and hands Eskel the sandwiches he made for him to take to work. - "But this Jaskier guy is legendary, like I heard he's the best Dungeonmaster in the state." - "Likely an exaggeration...." - "Pleeaaaase. I had to bribe the hell out of Aiden to have him give up the two spots he had." That piques Geralt's interest. "What'd you bribe him with?" Eskel scratches his head sheepishly. "I may have sold our brother's hand in marriage." - "That's ballsy for you... does Lambert know of his luck yet?" Eskel shakes his head and Geralt huffs a laugh. His brothers are unbelievable, one so nerdy it makes up for Geralt's complete lack of interest in pop culture, the other an oblivious prick that tends to get arrested for being offensive. Ciri is their only hope. "So are you coming?" - "Absolutely no way."

-Geralt doesn't want to go and until half an hour before the game is supposed to start, he keeps his resolve. But then Eskel bursts into their shared living room - their flat is still attached to their father's house, but separate enough that it feels like their own; Lambert has a type penthouse suite to himself and Ciri still lives with Vesemir in the main house - with an excited blush and wearing a WoW shirt and the biggest, brightest puppy eyes, and begs Geralt on hands and knees to come with him. "Why though?" Geralt asks. "Would be more fun if I stayed away..." - "But I'm awkward and your pretty face may distract from that." - "Esk, we have the same face." Which is true, save for... oh. The scars. Of course, Geralt wants to smack himself. Eskel always tends to be more self-conscious in groups of new people because of his marred face, an accident in the zoo when they were young. He believes having Geralt with him shows other people how he is supposed to look like. Geralt doesn't believe it's a great coping mechanism, but he can never deny his twin anything. "Fuck," he grumbles and a triumphant grin blooms over Eskel's features.

-That first session is to go over the basics for anyone who needs a refresher and to talk about what each player expects from the campaign bla bla bla; Geralt doesn't contribute more than the odd grunt and is soon distracted by Jaskier's bright eyes, his pretty mouth, his whole energetic demeanor... he develops a little fixation over the course of the evening and gives up on trying to understand the game

-Jaskier approaches him after, while everyone else is exchanging notes on their characters, excited and electric and Geralt hasn't the first clue on what to do. A light hand on his shoulder, a welcoming smile. "Geralt, right?" Geralt nods curtly and Jaskier pulls up a chair and sits. Way too close for Geralt's comfort. He doesn't... mind? Fuck are those butterflies? Already? "If you have trouble figuring out your character, we could always do a private session to get you going. What do you say?" - "Saturday," Geralt grunts in reply. Jaskier claps delightedly, then is distracted by one of the women, Calanthe Geralt recalls, asking if she can play a lioness shapeshifter. He lets Eskel collect him, endures his brother's constant prattle on the ride back. He dares to give the whole thing a shot.

-Their private session starts out with Jaskier explaining different classes of characters, a few bottles of Geralt's favourite Redanian Lager on the side. He tries to listen, at least at first. But then Jaskier keeps licking froth from his lips and some of the perspiration from the cold bottles runs down his exposed neck and fuck, Geralt just can't stop himself. Eskel said over and over that Jaskier was basically a magician, but Geralt thought that would be restricted to the game. Nope. His dick definitely twitches when Jaskier leans over him to grab the dice Geralt brought upon Eskel's recommendation. Geralt catches a whiff of his shampoo - vanilla? - and Jaskier's arm brushes Geralt and well. He lets out a low whine. Jaskier hums a question mark, but when he sees the look on Geralt face his encouraging smile turns devilish, knowing. "Good," he breathes, drops the dice and climbs onto Geralt's lap. "I thought it was only me." Geralt catches Jaskier's hips and they kiss. No classes are studied that day, no alignments picked, no attributes determined. Instead, Geralt learns all the beautiful noises Jaskier can make, learns some of his own anew. They will need another private session to make up for lost time

-"Perhaps I should just design a character for you," Jaskier pants into Geralt's neck as he slow-fucks him on their couch, Eskel being out with Lambert to clear up the whole Aiden thing. It's the third time they're meeting to figure out Geralt's character. Geralt grunts and accelerates just enough to keep them both on the edge. His skin is burning and Jaskier writhes, his shoulders littered with bite marks. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, please." Later, Geralt agrees to Jaskier's suggestion. He makes him pancakes for breakfast.

-When the first session is well underway, everyone quickly realizes that this game really isn't for Geralt. He tries, he does. Jaskier was kind, gave him a stoic half-orc warrior that communicates mostly with grunts, but he still doesn't get all the rules and Calanthe is getting impatient with him, her boyfriend Eist amused by this, and Eskel keeps throwing the dice for Geralt, and these girls, Téa and Véa, stare daggers at him. Jaskier's watches it all with amusement, gently steering the group back towards their adventure - not that Geralt has the first clue what their objective is. But Geralt wants to keep playing if only because Jaskier is so fucking beautiful in his element, imitating voices, using the most ridiculous vocabulary, glowing with pure joy. It's a privilege to see, Geralt understands that now. And he has to thank Eskel for taking him despite his reservations

-"Won't you go on a normal date with me?" Geralt asks one night when they are wrapped up in Jaskier's bed, contented and tired from their earlier activities. "I could take you hunting or whatever." - "That's what you call a normal date?" Jaskier laughs and kisses him lightly. They haven't defined whatever it is they're doing, but Geralt is in no rush. Especially because he hasn't yet dared to breach the topic with Eskel who quickly befriended Jaskier (and everyone else of course, at the end of the day Eskel is a social butterfly, no matter what scars he bears). "Just... go out with me." - "You know, usually I have a strict policy for dating players, but... well that's already way out the window so, yeah, okay. I'll go out with you. But we're absolutely not going hunting, I'm a vegetarian." Alas, there had to be some catch.

-Geralt keeps playing and his permanent confusion becomes part of his character as well. It isn't ideal, but the others - and Jaskier's forgiving storytelling - drag him through to the end of it. By then, Geralt almost gets it. "Well," Jaskier concludes. "That was a bit of a different campaign. Hope you all liked it." The bastard acts abashed. Hah. Geralt and Eskel are the last ones to leave after they all toasted and talked about playing again some time. "You coming?" Eskel asks, hovering near the door. He's long past his initial anxiety, his fangirling, his self-consciousness. That too has been a glorious part of this, seeing Eskel unfold, gain confidence, be at ease. He likes that he could give his brother the safety he needed. "I, uhm," Geralt starts, but Jaskier interrupts by threading his arm through Geralt's. "We are! What's for dinner?" And he drags Geralt past Eskel who raises a brow. Geralt tries to communicate with his eyes all he neglected to tell Eskel. It's only because they're so close that Eskel at least understands that they are something like boyfriends now. He laughs.

-"My baby brother," Eskel lulls later when Jaskier is already passed out from too much wine and Geralt and him stand outside, sharing a rare cigarette. He ruffles Geralt head. "I'd wondered why you stuck around so long." - "Fuck off," Geralt says.

-The next time Eskel invites him to a campaign, Geralt tags along. Not because he particularly wants to, but because now there are two pairs of puppy eyes, begging him, and he can't say no to either of them, let alone both (maybe someday he will actually enjoy the game for its own merits)

[tiesthatbind-tf]

I have two new questions: Wouldn't Onyx Prime be African because of Eukaris more closely related to African traditions? And what would your version of Cyclonus look like and what ethnicity he would be?

Nope! Because I'm not using the extremely convoluted history IDW has for the characters/world before the main story. Onyx here is not Shockwave in disguise, he's much closer to the Aligned/Fun Publications version of the character. Eukaris exists but it's sort of a central homeland state created specifically for Beast Men where all variants of them would receive equal treatment (This is due to the fact that even in places where some of them were well-accepted, others were not, as an example Bird-style beast men being revered in Japan as 'Tengu', while fox-style beastmen were always pegged as tricksters and bear-style Beastmen were outright demonised outside of Ainu culture).

Beast Men in Ties That Bind are also not associated with a single culture or people.

There's actually a whole page dedicated to the explanation for Beast Men and Eukaris in this AU, I'll include it under a cut since it's long (TW for mentions of Human Trafficking and general dehumanization).

I haven't as of yet decided anything on Cyclonus!

BEAST MEN

A new subset of humanity which occurred during the Quintesson Invasion, Beast Men (Homo Bestia) were the product of genetic experimentations on humans and animals alike by Quintesson scientists in the early days of the invasion.

The exact nature or reason behind these grotesque experiments have yet to be fully understood but from what little has been translated from salvaged texts, it is believed that they were conducted to better understand the strengths and weaknesses of earth’s indigenous lifeforms and to create a robust ‘working animal’ for strip-mining and slave labour purposes by combining traits between them.However much of the early experimentation yielded less than satisfactory results; The Beast Men despite their enhanced strength were often wilder in nature and even more defiant than standard humans, with some unable to adapt to their heightened senses causing them to lash out at all stimuli.

Many were terminated as failed experiments while others were kept incarcerated as stock to continue Quintesson research to fine-tune the process.However, many still managed to escape through concerted combined efforts between themselves or were liberated by rebels later on between 1930 and 1945. They took part in the Second Quintesson War under the leadership of Owais Naseem, one of the thirteen heroes of the war and a Horse-Man (Centaur).

The most populous subset of Beast Men comprises of Canids, which make up 20% of their entire demographic due to their purported usefulness as huntsmen, guardsmen and even ‘pets’ to the Quintessons.This is followed by felid (15%), ruminant (15%), avian (10%), rodentia (10%), oceanic (10%)  and others (17%).The rarest type of Beast Men are Insectoid (3%). They usually feel a strong affinity for nature and most commonly reside in South America, Africa, Asia and their established ‘homeland’ of Eukaris.  They are least found (outside of government-commissioned Cold Constructs)  in the USA, France and the UK.

CLASSIFICATIONS OF BEAST MEN

Beast Men are classified into three categories according to a worldwide government census, mostly based on the level of visible mutation.

Class A (‘Humanoid’) Accounts  for 15% of Beast Men.

Mutations are recessive/subtle, mostly centered around eyes, ears. Occasionally will sport claws.

Due to their mostly human appearance, they are better accepted by society with some reaching fame due to their perceived safe but ‘exotic’ looks.

Little to no limitations on personal rights. Mixed marriages with standard humans are allowed but heavily frowned upon due to presiding fear that, as they are still carriers of the animal gene, their mutations will pass down and could become more dominant in their children.

Little to no animal instincts.

Class B (‘Mix’) The most common class accounting for 50% of all Beast Men.

General public perception tends to vary from mild distaste to full on disdain.

Their physiology tends to be animal-like wrapped around a human frame. Anatomy remains mostly human (eg: Having paws or claws, but relegated to human-size and shaped hands or feet).

Allowances made for public transport/spaces with conditions.

Mixed marriages with standard humans banned in most countries.

Overlaps can occur with Class C.

Mild animal instincts.

Class C (‘Feral’) Accounts for 30% of Beast Men.

The class facing heaviest persecution due to their completely non-human appearance. Human traffickers have been documented selling them to hunting parties and reserves.

Full animal traits, including major to full coverage of fur/feathers/scales, tails, teeth, digitigrade legs, etc. Will occasionally sport ‘distorted’ anatomy (like elongated arms for flight or running on all fours) or missing anatomy altogether (legs for snake-men) to better support animal physiology.

Not allowed in public transport and spaces unless clearly designated.

Mixed marriages with standard humans banned in most countries.

Strong animal instincts, however level of intelligence/emotional empathy remains the same as standard humans.

Class D (‘Shifters’) The rarest class, accounts for 5% of Beast Men

Are an offshoot of Class B and C individuals who have the ability to fully shapeshift into animals.

The phenomenon is still being studied.

BEAST MEN IN SOCIETY

Despite their role in helping to win the war, the relationship between Beast Men and modern society is shaky, with a majority of them suffering some form of discrimination from governments and people unwilling to make concessions for them in modern living and personal engagements.

Like Cold Constructs, many of them are seen as second-class citizens who find it hard to rent property due to landlords who insist on a ‘no animals’ rule being applied to them (thus pushing most of them into redlined districts and neighborhoods). Most forms of public transport also bar them entry due to the ‘hassle’ that accommodating all subsets of them would invoke.

More so, the ‘non-domestic’ variants of them are often seen as dangerous or unpredictable due to their enhanced sensitivity to stimuli which would otherwise not affect a ‘normal’ person (and there have been cases of people deliberately overloading their senses to force them to react in a violent manner), and this limits the job market for them as well.

Metropolitan cities, particularly in western countries, place heavy restrictions on their movements in public; Establishments and businesses are allowed to refuse them service or bar them entry if they are seen to be a threat or if the facilities are (often deliberately) not built to accommodate them.

Violence against them is a regular occurrence despite laws being passed to combat the issue and most Beast-Men will only go out in public with a chaperone or in groups for protection from harassment.

Worse yet are the cases of illegal hunting of Beast Men, whether for game or their body parts, which sees a steady demand in the black market.

However, the case isn’t the same in all countries; In many areas of Africa and Asia, certain subsets of Beast Men are mostly accepted as members of modern society.

Snake-Men are a welcomed group in Thailand due to their resemblance to mythical Naga, while Tiger-Men are seen as protectors and a symbol of courage in Malaysia.

Bird-Men receive adulation in most South and South-East Asian countries due to their resemblance to the Garuda, while the same can be said for Japan which sees them as Tengu.

Lion, Leopard and Panther-Men find similar acceptance in African nations, which sees Lion-Men in particular to have been royalty in a past life.

Scotland stands out among western nations due to its granting of full-class citizen status to Wolf-men, affectionately known as ‘Wulvers’, particularly in the Shetland Islands which in turn sees a high population of them compared to other European nations.

That said, as not all Beast Men subsets are accepted to the same level even in countries that accept certain types, a Beast Men-centric state that levies the same rights and acceptance for all subsets, Eukaris, was established in 2004 via extensive terraforming on Queen Maud Land in Antartica.